#and i am in no way trying to pose myself as an authority on this topic

[side-sidecast]

the thing about queer exclusionism besides being blatantly hypocrytic is that it treats being opressed and discriminated as something meriting authority within the community. "youre not opressed so you cant be part of our community" who are you to decide what counts as opression? how can you judge an experience you havent lived? queerness has so many levels and intersections with other factors that you will never be able to completely santise it to your liking. there will always be people and labels that you dont understand and distinctions you think are futile in the grand scheme of things, but you have to learn to be civil towards them, you have to learn about intersectionality. you cant decide who is "opressed enough" opression doesnt have levels, its not something you can rate, its something you fight against and thats it. if you want to defeat opression, you cant use it as a unit of measurement.

[leafostuff]

Blind sexDate[Ft. StayC's Isa & Fromis_9's Chaeyoung]

Tags: none, its a threesome

Word count: 6.5K

Author's: that...took a while, started to write this in 26th of August so i did take a very long time to finally have this out but here it is: my October upload

I really want to thank @prael @capslocked @octoberautumnbox and many others from the discord for helping me with stuff I wasn't sure about, i am really proud of that fic and i hope everyone else will enjoy reading it as much as i had fun writing it.

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She sounds pretty.

It's the lilt of her voice, how it does a cute thing where she almost, but not quite rolls her r's and chews on her consonants. A voice that sounds like it belongs to someone small. Someone, you know - conventionally attractive. 

Four minutes, fifty-five seconds. And that's pretty much all she has going for her.

"Let me tell you about my friend's vacation," she starts again, and you've lost track of if this is the same friend, same vacation - or a new one. They're all blending together.

you always thought the ‘blind’ was a figure of speech. it's fucking pitch black, you wonder if compared to the other guys you were underdressed,, you did see one guy with a blazer and jeans your paycheck couldn't even pay a quarter of it.

But back to the girl, her non stop ramble is now a background noise in your ears, not even sure you can recall who is the ex of who and which boyfriend cheated on her best friend with her sister. Your brain can't keep up.

but regardless, the first round is thankfully over, say your goodbyes to the first girl and stay in your chair.

you consider leaving right now to try and not get disappointed even more, however…

“Hey” The next girl is already here, it will be rude of you to leave just like that.

“Hi I am Jake” you respond

“Nice to meet you, my name is Chaeyoung, but you can just call me Isa” she responds. The first impression you gather is her voice, Airy and sweet like honey

“Huh, it's a pretty name, First time I ever heard a name like that ” you can hear a quiet giggle to your compliment.

“Thank you, I am actually from South Korea, I came here to LA for summer vacation”.

“That's cool, I actually live in LA myself” You lean back in your chair, getting comfortable around the mysterious girl.

“Oh wow” you could hear the excitement in her voice. “Do you have any places you can recommend to me?” she asked.

“Uhh…well, Here in Santa Monica Pier it's always fun for tourists too walk around here, I assume you have already been at the walk of fame in Hollywood and Universal studios” you answer. 

“I have to say though: this whole dating in the darkness is very fun, isn't it?” Fun is certainly one way to describe this, the other way is a gamble but for the sake of keeping the conversation fun you agree with her.

“Its like all of my other senses are much stronger, like some superhero…” Isa giggles, it's addictive that you can't help but join, with the sound of small shifts on her chair you can imagine how she is doing some battle poses.

“Hehe thats truuu-” quickly shut your mouth, that voice crack was the last thing you needed on a date but fortunately for you, Chaeyoung sounds a short laugh.

“Nervous?”

“hehe…Yeah, been a while since i was on a date” you explain, recalling your experiences with your failed relationships, it still stings a bit.

"Let's play a game then." There's some faint sounds of movement—a ruffling of clothes and the creak of a chair. She sounds clearer now, her voice doesn't have to carry as far and she's far more pronounced. 

"Help you relax a bit: What do you think I look like?” she asks, her tone is playful and happy as if she is the host of a game show, This second date goes better than you expected.

“Hmm…let me think…I am gonna guess that you have…black hair…is it long?” Your first answer is hesitant.

“Not telling~” she responds with a playful note. “How about my clothes?”

There is curiosity in her voice, excited to see how you will respond, you could hear her fingers tapping on the table, remembering to not waste time. “Well, you sound like a sweet girl, like the simple things in life, so…” you pause, trying to imagine her in many different styles and clothes that could fit her in the 5 or so minutes that you got to know her. 

Remember who is wasting who’s time so better lock in your answer now and say.

“My guess is… a summer dress?” quite the answer you give out, and the way you say it like you are one answer away from receiving the grand prize of Chaeyoung's game show, but back to her answer…

“You think it's something I will wear?” Isa questions, her tone sounds like she is also imagining herself wearing one.

“Yeah, it looks cute,” you respond. “And its not too crazy to wear on a first date” you add, hearing a small giggle after.

“Ok, i will keep it mind next time we meet”

“Will there be a next time?”

“I don't see why not”

You're happy, a bit surprised it didn't take you that much time to find someone in this speed blind dating thing, expecting more or less what happened the prior date but here you are.

“It's your turn to guess now?” You ask, already feeling comfortable around her.

“Ok ok, so i-”

But sadly as if life has decided to cockblock you, the time is over as an alarm can be heard as a signal to switch, you can only look at the general direction of where Chaeyoung could be and sigh, showing your disappointment.

“We can always meet later if you want” you can feel her wanting to continue her date with you but every good thing must come to an end

“Of course, it was very fun talking with you”

“Same to you as well” you can hear Isa lift herself from the chair. “See ya” she added in a happy tone before leaving you at the lone table. You can't help yourself but smile.

“Maybe it won't be as bad as i thought” 

=================================

Time goes on and other girls come and go, however, you can't help but wonder more about Isa, what makes her laugh? What does she like to do on the weekends? what are her dreams, aspirations and everything in between, the curiosity killed you inside.

more importantly: you wonder what she looks like, outside of the darkness you were both in. If it wasn't clear enough: you are interested in her, they all say love at first sight doesn't exist but here you are, letting your mind fill with the idea of her.

You are set in stone of your choice, and there is no chance you will change yo-.

“uhm Hello? Are you there?”

Zoom out of your thoughts, focus on the husky, feminine voice coming from what seems to be in front of you. How long has she been sitting there? How long have you been daydreaming?? Thank god it's dark so quickly compose yourself before it can get awkward and start talking.

“Oh hi, im jake. Nice to meet you”

“Uhh, nice to meet you too,” she responds, it's not hard to hear the shakiness and in her voice showing her nervousness to you, the small shifting sounds in her chair. “I am Chaeyoung”.

You're caught off guard, the world is smaller than it seems with you meeting two girls Sharing the same name, “isn't that a Korean name?”

“Uh, yeah, how…how did you know?”.

“I actually met another girl named Chaeyoung before in here” you say, it would be funny if they actually knew each other but the chances are slim. It's not like you know every Jake either.

“Oh, that's cool…” she mumbled, sounding as if she was disappointed to hear it

The silence is now getting awkward, you both wait for the other one to start breaking more of the ice and it seems that she was the patient one between both of you since you are the first to give up and get the conversation going.

“So what do you do? For a living I mean” you are met with unintelligible mumbles as an answer, a bit unsure you ask her again to clarify.

“I…model, it's not super serious though” Chaeyoung quietly answered, you could hear light, quick taps beneath the table.

“Oh wow, I bet you are like, really pretty if you do modeling” you dont know how much confidence you got to say such a thing but you are already mentally face-palming yourself. You could feel yourself gaining some creep points in her mind over this comment.

“Oh, uhh Thank…thank you very much” Chaeyoung stutters, her tone jumps an Octave, sounding a small giggle. You can only sigh in relief that you didn't weird Chaeyoung out.

“I'm in LA for a photoshoot, since we finished earlier than expected i got a couple of days free to hang out around the city” she explains, still sounding nervous but much more at ease than before. “So what do you do for work, Jake?” She returns your question to you.

“Ah, I just work as a barista in a small café, nothing much.” you manage to say in a montone, unpleasant tone. You are a bit embarrassed that you have the chance to blind date a model while you are the equivalent of nothing compared to her

“It’s-It’s okay, i'm honestly not some super popular model” her words quickly come out of her mouth. “Besides, I can imagine being a barista is much more relaxing of a job, not trying to get every deal possible just not to lose money.”

“I mean, it doesn't pay much but it is less stressful,” you respond. You can hear two glasses of water placed on the wooden table with one of them handed to you, together with a straw since you could imagine how drinking from the cup would end like.

“So, what does a model like you” you stop, taking a small sip of the water to refresh yourself. -doing in blind speed dating?”

“It's just easier for me, usually when i go on dates I get nervous, and my eyes travel too much, and I kind of panic…” Chaeyoung explains, lightly giggling at her own experience before taking a sip from her water glass as well .“So I thought doing something like this could help me feel uhh you know… less stressed.”

“Hey, you do you, as long as you are comfortable.”

“Yeah, that's true,” Chaeyoung replied. Her voice turns less shaky and more clear than at the start of your date, it was clear that both of you had fun on that date.

So much so that in fact, you both were caught off guard by the timer for your date finishes and the lights suddenly turn up again, revealing the girl in front of you for the first time.

Right off the bat; you understand why Chaeyoung is a model.

A heart-shaped face and a delicate, soft jawline paired with brown, expressive eyes and Black shoulder-length silky hair that is enough to make every man look at her in awe, including you. Even her clothing is model-like with a Chic, stylish black off shoulder shirt and Denim jeans that show her features exceptionally well. By the way, you should say something before you will sound weird

“Oh, nice to meet you” stand up from your chair and raise your hand to a handshake.

“Nice to meet you too, i gotta say that i didn't see that coming at all” Chaeyoung cheerfully responded while shaking your hand, sounding a sincere chuckle while her eyes joined her wide smile.

“Same, i almost had a heart attack” you jokingly say while you get your jacket off your chair. “Say, wanna go outside? Maybe get to know each other more” she only nods, taking her jacket from her chair as you both head out from your table toward the exit of the bar.

=================================

“Oh, here you are” you recognize this airy voice, taken aback as you look at where the voice comes from.

Though you were right about the black hair, you did miss the mark on Isa's outfit. Short crop top and tight jeans, that cute summer dress was nowhere to be found.

Her cat-like eyes lock onto yours, she flashes a sweet yet devilish grin before heading toward the two of you.

“Gotta say Jake: i had a feeling you were good looking, but i didn't expect you to be this good looking” Isa compliments you, giving a small wink then her gaze turns to Chaeyoung with curious eyes.

“Your friend?” She asks you,

“Hi, I'm Chaeyoung, nice to meet you” She says, reaching her hand forward as Isa is suddenly taken by surprise.

“Um, I am Chaeyoung”

“That's my name”

“That's… also my name"

“What's your family name?” Chaeyoung asks, now intrigued by the other girl.

“Its Lee” Isa responds, now it's Chaeyoung’s turn to be surprised.

“that's also…my family name”

During this, you are just looking at what's happening in front of you. As much as you are curious, you are also worried since it seems like both were interested in dating you after this.

However, one quick look at each other, another one to look at you and then looking back at each other, the two girls started laughing, both covering their mouths to muffle the volume. You can only sigh in relief that it turned for the better.

Eventually they both let their laughs out as Chaeyoung speaks. “It's quite a surprise to meet another Korean here in LA”.

“Please, call me Isa, and same, nice to meet you too Chaeyoung” she replies, chuckling lightly as the other girl can't help but start chuckling as well before they reach their hand for a small handshake

“Well that went better than expected” you manage to slip in the conversation reminding them that you are still here.

“You also met him on Speed dating?”

Chaeyoung nods. “We were the last round before the lights turned on, you two met earlier?” 

“Yeah, the other guys were kind of boring but he was a breath of fresh air” Isa explains, turning her gaze to you and winking at you. You could swear your heart skipped a beat.

At this moment one question rose in your mind and as you looked at the two girls with an awkward look, they both realized what you were as they sounded a small ‘oh’ before looking at each other again. As much as you didn't want you, you had to choose one of the girls to be your date.

“You can go out with Jake” Chaeyoung quickly says, smiling sweetly and lightly pushing Isa toward you, both you and the cat-like girl are surprised.

“Chaeyoung? Are you sure?” you question, why was she suddenly

“Yeah yeah, I'm sure, You two met before I met you, so she should have you” she explains, her eyes joining her smile. You did feel bad about leaving Chaeyoung out however an idea was about to be suggested that would fix that problem.

Then again, you aren't sure if this was an actual fix…

“I dont mind you dating us both”

What

“What?” Chaeyoung raises her eyebrow in surprise at Isa, the one who suggested that idea out of the blue, you were not far behind Chaeyoung in your reaction as well, being completely confusement.

“I mean dont see why not, I like you, you like me, she likes you, You like her. I am bad at math but it doesn’t seem too hard to solve this problem” Isa explains looking at you, You and Chaeyoung swap looks, you can feel your cheek heating up and changing to a pink shade.

“I mean uh…as long as Jake doesn't mind, it's okay by me” Chaeyoung stutters, Isa likes this response as she smiles at her new friend, her arm goes around Chaeyoung’s shoulder.

“Im sure it will be great, So what do you say Jake?~” Isa’s voice is sweet when she looks at you with her warm smile, Chaeyoung’s smile is also there but is much more timid.

The choice was now in your field, you didn't expect there to be a third option in the first place and all in honesty: That idea seemed like trouble. But when Isa looks at you with her cheerful smile, standing like that next to Chaeyoung with a smile that makes them look together like the next cover page for a magazine, it's hard to say no to them.

And deep inside: you don't want to.

“Sure, if that's what you two want” you respond, it seems they are both satisfied with your choice as they look at each other with warm smiles. 

you honestly didn't mind this idea as long as they were both happy, besides, what's the worst that could happen?.

=================================

“Dang it!” Isa yelled, almost managing to block your hit of the air puck but it ended up inside the goal because of the unusual angle you shot it. “So…a model, that sounds like a cool job to have, no?” She directed her question to Chaeyoung, giving her the mallet she was holding.

“Huh? Oh yeah, it's fine, I'm not getting many offers compared to the average model” Chaeyoung answers, half focused on aiming the first shot before quickly shooting it at your goal. “but it's good money”

You reflect the puck. “I mean, if it's something you like to D-” Stop what you are saying and block the surprise attack Chaeyoung does, look at her cheeky smile as you know she almost scored“-Do, you can do almost everything you want” you continue what you were saying as you send the puck toward her direction.

“Yeah that's true” Chaeyoung smiled toward you, then quickly smacking the puck directly into your goal, getting herself a point. “So, what do you two work at?”.

“A Gaming cafe, Came to LA as a summer trip with my friends after exams” Isa replied, taking your mallet and shooting the puck from her side.

“Damn, compared to you two my job sounds boring as fuck, You are a model, you work at a gaming cafe, and i am just a barista at a cafe” you jokingly roast yourself, eyes moving from side to side with each side the puck goes to.

“Huh, not my first thought when it comes to your job,” Isa says, a bit surprised. “But…i imagine you look quite handsome in barista clothes” And there she goes again, with that flirty smile and curious eyes that you swear you fall in love deeper than you were.

Now look at Chaeyoung, not as flirty as the other girl but it seems that, unlike the first time you met her, she is much less tense, more at ease around the two of you, genuinely enjoying her time.

After the air hockey game is over and a quick stop to get some of LA’s finest street food (which the two seemed to really enjoy for their first time), the three of you are now sitting on the boardwalk, the sound of the waves going back and forth is singing in your ears, however now they topic of the conversation seems to get more…laid-back.

“So let me get this straight: your best friend is Korean, right?” You ask, Isa responds with a small nod

“And she has a British accent?” Chaeyoung continues your question, getting Isa to laugh again.

“Yes-” she stops talking to take a sip from the water bottle in her. “Fully Korean, with a British accent, one time my friends and I were listening to a song called ‘Run 2 U’ by some random group, and she said the name of the song as” she suddenly released a small chuckle unable to keep her cool.

“As what? Just tell us” Chaeyoung comments, half smiling as if she already knows the answer, Isa meanwhile slowly downed the water so she wouldn't choke before finally saying after a deep breath.

“Raeun tew yew…” The mock accent that Isa adds gives the punch line more of an oomph as you all start laughing, small tears of joy leave your eyes as you slam the wooden deck, meanwhile, Chaeyoung covers her mouth to hide the amount of blush she has on her cheeks from how hard she is laughing.

“Oh that was good, I didn't expect to laugh this hard” You exclaim, taking a deep breath as you now go back to staring at the waves. “Honestly…this date has been really fun, with both of you,”.

“Like-wise, we both enjoyed your company as well” Chaeyoung replies, sweetly giggling while her left fingers go to her hair, pushing it aside with the side effect of getting your cheeks slightly pink, luckily the weak lighting make it hard to see for the two girls.

“Same for me” Isa chimed in with a smile. “Say, want to continue it somewhere else? It's getting late” she prompts as a soft yawn escapes her mouth.

“Huh? Okay, if you want my place is close” you say, standing up from the deck as you lend your hand to help her stand up.

“That's great” She says as her gaze turns to the other girl. “You're coming as well Chae?”.

Chaeyoung suddenly tensed up in surprise. “Chae?” she asks, to which Isa just giggles at her rather cute reaction.

“Yeah, it's a cute nickname, you don't mind it, right?” Her tone is sweet when she asks her friend with a warm smile, that way when Chaeyoung smiles, she mirrors the same warmth with her own smile.

“Of course i don't” she responds, standing up and lightly stretching to gain some sense of her body, “So? Lets go”

“Great” Isa comments before turning her gaze to you. “Jake, mind leading the way?”

=================================

The ride home is quieter than usual.

Not that there were not any talks inside the cab you decided to take to your place, but most of the talking was done by the two girls, sitting on each side of you, only speaking in a language you can only assume is korean.

It’s a simple loop: Isa says something, they look at you (which you could only smile awkwardly at their happy gazes), Chaeyoung answers with something else and they start giggling, sneaking another look at you and then it goes back again.

Eventually the taxi stops, leaving you right in front of your apartment complex. “Hmm, it really is close to the pier” Isa commented, easy for her to say when the entire bus ride has been ten minutes but for you it felt like an eternity.

As you scale the stairs up to your floor and walk to your apartment, you manage to fish the keys to your apartment out of your jeans pockets and open the door.

“Well here we are,” you say, getting inside and turning the lights on, revealing the living room, a couple boxes of instant-noodles on the table, the tv is on with a random news channel. “As you can see, it's not that big but its co-”

As you turn around to look at the two girls, your mouth opens wide in shock.

In front of you is Isa, head tilted slightly to the side as her lips close the distance with Chaeyoung’s. Her hands are not left idle as they both smoothly travel across the older’s back, feeling every inch of her partner’s body.

Meanwhile Chaeyoung's eyes are wide open and her body froze, surprised by the sudden act of Isa. It's not long until she as well eases up into the kiss, gently closing her eyes and putting her hands on the younger’s hips, you can hear how tongues slowly starts getting into the mix as the two girls vocalise small hums and whimpers. Eventually the torture comes to an end as their lips part from eachother but not their hands

“That… was your plan in the…end?” Chaeyoung asks in between pants, trying to collect air to aid surprise

“Of course, and besides…” Isa answers, turning her head enough to get her eyes on you, more specifically a bit down from your eyes. “It seems like he enjoys the show”.

Look down at the visible tent that is forming inside your pants and your hand that is slowly stroking itself to the beautiful yet unholy sight in front of you, another look into their eyes and you can see the arousement both girls share at your own prize.

“Come behind her jake, she feels divine” Isa elongates the last word-just the right way to get you Following her prompt, walking toward the two girls and getting behind Chaeyoung, your hands wrap around her midriff and your lips find themselves on the back of her neck causing her to quietly gasp.

With each second that your threeway makeout session was passing you could feel your pants getting tighter and your lust growing larger, enough that in a very bold move you let your palm find Isa’s right buttcock, giving it a gentle squeeze that makes her release a soft moan and take a look at you with a slutty smirk.

“You sneaky motherfucker” she playfully said, getting one of her hands off Chaeyoung's hips and wrapping it around your length. “You're hard already” she exclaims, leaving the two of you standing in front of her, wanting more from her, and from each other.

“I cant wait any longer~” Isa breathily says, giving you two a playful wink before disappearing into your bedroom. As lust quickly takes over your body you grab Chaeyoung by the hips and pull her into a kiss, and by how Chaeyoung quickly reciprocates the kiss and doesn't pull away, you can tell she wants it too.

You don't have time to process the texture of Chaeyoung lips, or how her long, soft legs are wrapped around your waist. Your only goal is to get the two of you into the bedroom, where Isa sits on your king sized bed with hungry eyes, licking her lips in anticipation. 

You let Chaeyoung get on your bed as you quickly join the two girls while tossing your shirt off to the side of the bed letting the two girls marvel at your naked chest.

“Fuck” Chaeyoung mouthed.

“Told you he was hot” Isa adds, scooting herself in front of you to get a hold of your chest before leaning in for a quick peck on your lips. “You don't mind undressing yourself, do you? me and Chae here have a show we need to give you” No answer was needed besides a nod as you went to the edge of your bed, letting the two girls begin.

It starts with kissing, slow yet sensual with Isa taking the lead by Straddling Chaeyoung's lap while one of her hands begins to glide across Chaeyoung's curves, ending at her left breast. “Fuck unnie, the things i will do to have a body like yours”.

Chaeyoung elicits a muffled moan to the soft grope Isa gives her, eyes completely shut and her and head looking up to let the pleasure take over. Soon Isa begins moving her hands all around her body, giving every inch of skin attention until eventually she stops one hand on the hem of Chaeyoung's shirt, the other supporting her from behind.

“You don't mind letting me take it off, right?” A quick nod of approval from the older one and Isa begins to slowly pull it up, moving to the right to let you see how slowly but surely more skin is revealed until finally the shirt is completely above her head giving you a clear view of Chaeyoung's black, lacy bra.

During all of this you are hard as a rock, can't take your eyes off from the two girls in front of you, even while you attempt to zip your jeans and rid them off your legs leaving you only in your briefs. You could swear you saw Isa lick her lips at the first sights of your briefs.

“Can I take yours too?” Chaeyoung's question is needy, eyes showing every sign of want to her Partner, hands are not left idle either with both of them resting on the upper part of Isa’s midriff, slightly below her two mounds.

“Of course, Unnie” she responds, leaning her body back and relaxing herself to let the older begin a strip tease of her own, every second that passes raises the sexual tension between them to a new level.

Unlike Chaeyoung, Isa’s crop top is not as loose compared to her black shirt, revealing the younger's breasts, covered with a crimson colored undergarments of her own with nipples taut from the arousal.

“Much better” Isa sighs in relief, feeling lighter without her crop top that is now thrown somewhere to the floor as once again she looks at you with a soft gaze however her mouth is anything but, painted with a sultry smile that can only speak trouble, finally with a breathy voice she playfully asks

“You're coming, Jake?”

The way Isa says your name, it's enough to let your primal instincts take over you, every red light is now turned green as you quickly pull Isa from behind into your lap, feeling her naked skin in your palms, right hand rests on her breast while the left hand goes to her thigh, rubbing and squeezing it to your heart's content.

“Oh god, yessss” Isa hisses the last word, it was clear that she enjoys every second of this, enough so that she doesnt pull away but instead leans in, meeting you in a torrid, messy makeout session, you two don't notice how Chaeyoung has already got rid of her whole bottom, only with her bra on with fingers already inside her pussy, definitely enjoying the view.

“Don't just stand there Chae, join us” This might be the most confident thing you have said this entire evening but it sure works on her since Chaeyoung now sits in front of Isa, palms massaging her clothed thighs, giving you a free hand to grope Isa’s other breast.

Those are not the same girls you met a couple of hours ago during that blind date, any semblance of innocence and fluff was left outside the door, now replaced with Lust and it's oh so clear with how Chaeyoung's eyes get aroused with each button she pops out of Isa jeans until eventually she finds her undergarment, same color as her bra with a wet spot in the middle.

Knowing what Chaeyoung was doing, Isa takes her hands into her denim jeans, lowering both the jeans and her own panties before throwing them away, leaving her creamy, thick thighs for both of you to revel in.

With the excitement in your body. You don't notice how Isa left your grasp, crawling away with a sway of her hips from side to side, now near her Chaeyoung they both look at you with an inviting smile, now giving you a chance to see both of them in their full glory.

With a devilish smirk Isa now moves behind the older girl, her eyes looking directly at you in an attempt to lure you in. Then a click can be heard as Chaeyoung’s bra now falls onto the mattress, Isa quickly joins her as now in front of you, two naked, gorgeous ladies sit in front of you.

And finally, knowing what the last piece is missing from the puzzle, you finally grab the hem of your boxers, pulling it down to let your Hardened cock stand strong and proud.

“Told you he was big” Isa exclaims, giving a small nudge to Chaeyoung with a small giggle, her friend quickly joins her.

“Yeah…so big” she mumbles quietly, her finger inside her mouth, lightly chewing on it to hold in the excitement of seeing your size. 

However, you didn't come this far with them just to watch each other naked, and they are not either as without saying a word, the two of them playfully shove you down into the mattress and get into their positions.

It starts off with Isa finding her place on your legs once again, looking directly at you with her thighs wrapped around your cock, only the tip is exposed to the air as after a flirty wink, she starts rubbing her thigh on you.

“Oh shit, Isa…” 

You groan, the rest of your voice comes out as a moan that gets her excited, you could have witnessed the obscene act of her thigh job until the end of time, however it is quickly obstructed by Chaeyoung's ass planted on your chest, her rear side all for you to view how it moves, you are not surprised why she is a model with a body as divine as hers.

“Jake…i can feel you twitching ” Isa whines, feeling your tip slightly touch her entrance is enough to let some precum leak out of your tip with you releasing another moan.

“Hey, let me have some too” Chaeyoung interrupts, taking her thumb and brushing it over your tip and grabbing some of it as you could hear how she gives it a small lick before humming cheerfully at your taste.

“Ooo, he taste good~” how the fuck did you even think this girl was innocent again?

“Can I have some unnie?”

“Sure” as if Chaeyoung’s timing was perfect, your first shot of cums leaks out of your member as she quickly gets some on her fingers. 

“Say ahhh” Chaeyoung prompts as Isa happily obliges, letting her fingers get inside her mouth, tasting . Its down right torture how you are not allowed to see what might as well be a scene from an adult film but regardless you can only enjoy the sounds, its not like you didnt do it before.

As your libido starts growing, so does your confidence as your palms firmly hold each buttcock of Chaeyoung, feeling its texture by softly squishing it, kneading it like dough causing Chaeyoung to utter a moan while arching her body back to give you all of the signals that she is enjoying it.

“Okay, this is enough teasing, we want the real thing now” Isa exclaims, Freeing your cock from the confines of her thighs giving it a breath of fresh air as now she squats over your face, giving you a clear view of her shaven pussy. Chaeyoung meanwhile heads over to sit next to your cock, still standing, waiting for the next storm to hit.

“I assume I am still not gonna get a look aren't i?” You ask, trying to sound cocky however Isa didn't say anything as she was slowly lowering her body, obstructing your view once again. With her thighs around your body and her pussy so close to your face, you let your tongue out giving her lips the first lick, just to test the waters.

“Oh fuck, yess” You hear Isa muffled moans from pleasure, feeling her ass gyrating on your tounge, enjoying every moment as you could feel the friction of her thighs on your face.

“You should join us Chaeyoung-AH, i can see him waiting just for you~” you could feel yourself getting even harder than before by the way Isa playfully invites her friend, all the while she is overtaken by pleasure. you are excited to see how Chaeyoung goes off with you, however your thoughts are stopped with a loud groan, not expecting your cock to feel the tightness of her pussy wrapped around you.

After the first contact Chaeyoung starts slowly moving up and down, each dip takes your cock deeper inside her, you could feel how each time you were inside her fluids were coating you more and more. “Oh my god Isaaaaa-” she stops her sentence, quickly releasing a sultry, husky moan. “His f-feels so good…”.

“His tongue too unnie, he is eating me out so well” Isa adds. It's nice to hear the compliment, so much that you get the confidence to start moving at your own pace, pushing your tongue inside. Meanwhile your hands grope Isa’s ass, giving you the grip to start pushing your hips in a matching pace to chaeyoung’s downward movement, Causing the two girls to scream from pleasure, holding each other in order to not collapse on the spot.

You could only Imagine how the girl’s lewd expressions were, just from the ungodly sounds, the scent of lust and cum, and the feeling of their curves on your body you could guess the fun they were having, but it would not be over until you all finally relieved yourself.

“Are you close Jake?” Isa manages to form a question while looking down, you could only respond with a muffled ‘yes’ and a nod of approval.

“I'm close too guys, i have to cum” Chaeyoung replies, releasing another moan in between bohnces it seems like you were all in on the same train of thought as you could feel yourself getting closer to your climax, even without Isa’s Ass directly on your face your view was getting hazy from ecstacy.

“Shit girls, i am going to-” you couldn't even finish the sentence before finally releasing your cum, thank god you pulled out of Chaeyoung just in time.

Your thick load goes all over their bodies, on Chaeyoung thighs, on Isa’s midriff, some even spills on your own abs, you are also not alone as they both get their own orgasm which goes all around your body, Chaeyoung coating your cock and Isa spilling around your face and abs

It takes a while but eventually you are all drained, both girls fall into each of your side, finally giving you a chance to see the two girls laid on the mattress, their bodies painted with cum from the three of you, their faces happy and satisfied.

For a couple of minutes it's quiet, the only way you communicate is with your eyes, looking at each other not with lust but instead with a warm, peaceful gaze.

Eventually Chaeyoung finally breaks the silence. “Fuck, im not a virgin but i gotta say; that is the best sex i had in my life”

“Same for me, i don't know if i want a round 2 or to stop” Isa joins between heavy pants, her hands wrap around your body as she looks at you with the same warm smile she had back when you first saw her.

“I don't know about you two, but i need a good rest after this” you manage to say as you once again lay down on the bed, eyes looking at the ceiling with each hand goes behind the girls’s back, pulling them closee to you.

“Okay then, we will start cleaning and then join you” Isa replies, letting you close your eyes and get some rest. However not before you can hear faint sounds of slurping as you open eye and see Chaeyoung's lips wrapped around the tip of your cock, isa behind holding her hair and tying it to makeshift ponytail.

“Hmm, it seems you two wanted another” you say, smiling at the two girls.

“Hey, you're still hard and we are still horny, you complain?” Isa asks, her eyes locking into yours paired with a flirty grin and a cute wink.

Something tells you that you wont get a good rest from those two girls.

[rebelliousneferut]

finding you | lando norris x model!reader

summary; in the midst of social media pressure you find your soul mate

genre; smau, fluff? i'm not really sure

face claim; angelina michelle

note; english is not my first language

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

f1wags

liked by f1gossip, y/nfans, norris.updates and others

f1wags rumors have been circulating since the beginning of this year about formula 1 driver lando norris and model y/n l/n being in a relationship.

there had been some photos of them being together with friends and they were also captured by some paparazzi but neither of them had confirmed these rumors until today.

this is the photo that lando shared through his Instagram stories.

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username oh... this is weird

username how weird?

username do not misunderstand. i love her and i think she is a very good model, but she looks a little... cold? to be with him

username this is how you perceive her on the internet, but you don't know her and you don't know her true personality. so don't assume those things.

username am i the only one thinking that this is like marketing or smt?

y/nxlando i actually think they are a very good couple ❤️

username how the hell you might already have an account dedicated to them

y/nsource as long as my girl is happy i will be happy too

y/nl/nuser

liked by landonorris, f1gossip, y/nsource and others

y/nl/nuser ✨

view comments

f1gossip lando doesn't miss any post of her

username just like all of us

y/nsource you are always so stunning 😍

❤️ liked by the author

y/nsource she liked my comment!!!!!

y/nxlando mommy slayyyy!!!

username i can't imagine lando dating her, he's so outgoing and she looks so cold

username you assume that just because of a photo. you do not know her so leave her alone

username yes but still

landonorris cute

❤️ liked by the author

username cute??? seriously??? there's no way you could have gotten his attention like that.

f1gossip 🤭🤭🤭

f1wags we need you in the paddock!

username i think she and lando are dating for pr, they don't seem in love

username i agree, they are trying to give her a lovely image

username i genuinely think she is too much for him.

username can you fight lando?

the camera flash is my constant companion, a blinding beacon in the manufactured world i inhabit. every smile, every pose, is a carefully constructed facade. i am a mannequin, a living, breathing doll, expected to embody perfection. the weight of this expectation is crushing my spirit.

behind the scenes, the laughter is forced, the conversations shallow. i am a ghost in my own life, a character trapped in a script I didn't write. the world sees me as a flawless goddess, but the truth is a stark contrast. i am lonely, insecure, and desperately yearning for authenticity.

then, there's lando. amidst the chaos of the fashion world, he is a breath of fresh air. a world away from the superficiality, he is grounded, genuine, and possesses an infectious laughter that makes my heart skip a beat. our paths crossed at a normal day, a chance encounter that ignited a spark.

in his company, i feel seen, truly seen. his eyes hold a depth that mirrors my own longing for something real. there is an understanding between us, a silent acknowledgment of the masks we both wear. in his arms, i find a sanctuary, a place where i can be myself without fear of judgment. lando is my escape, my reality check in a world of illusion.

"what are you thinking about?" lando asked, noticing my distant gaze.

i sighed, my phone still clutched in my hand. "people are saying we're incompatible. that i'm only with you for the image." disappointment laced my voice.

he squeezed my hand reassuringly. "don't let the online noise get to you, love. they don't know us. i love you for who you are, even the cold parts."

i couldn't help but chuckle. "i'm not always cold."

"i know," he replied with a tender smile. "and i love you for that too."

we shared a long, comfortable silence, filled with unspoken understanding.

the following weekend, we walked into the miami gp paddock, hand in hand, ready to face the world together.

f1wags

liked by norrislando.fans, y/nsource, username and others

f1wags lando and his girlfriend y/n arriving at the paddock together today. it is their first public appearance as a couple and also the first time y/n attends a race.

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y/nxlando i love them sm

username of course she was going to be there

y/nsource my girl is so beautiful ofc

username he seems tired of being with her 😂

username for god's sake, get a life

f1 and mclaren

liked by y/nl/nuser, username, norrislandofans and others

f1 LANDO NORRIS WINS HIS FIRST GRAND PRIX 🤩

#f1 #formula1 #miamigp

view comments

y/nsource that was y/n's influence

norrislandofans he won his first race with his girlfriend being there for the first time 🥺🥺

y/nxlando she is his lucky charm for sure

lando.fans my boy did it!!!

username our*

landonorris posted a story;

[caption; my lucky charm ❤️]

y/nl/nuser

liked by landonorris, y/nxlando, franciscacgomes and others

y/nl/nuser miami you will always be so special ❤️

view comments

landonorris i love you

❤️ liked by the author

norrislandofans please don't miss you any race 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

y/nxlando what a beauty moment you two shared after the podium

username fr! for everyone that was saying that they weren't in love

y/nsource i love you!!

we emerged from the storm stronger than before, choosing authenticity over the perfect facade. the world saw us as a couple, but we knew we were soulmates.

standing on the balcony of our secluded retreat, hand in hand, we watched the sunrise. the outside world faded into a distant hum. all that mattered was this moment, us, and the promise of a future filled with love, laughter, and unwavering support.

it was a world away from the superficial life I once knew. now, i was living my truth, a story written by my heart, not by the demands of the industry. and by my side was lando, the man who showed me the beauty of being real.

together, we were a masterpiece, an unfiltered portrait of love.

[zeltqz]

I CAN WAIT

ex-classmates!gojo & geto x fem!reader word count. 3.1k content. threesome, spitroasting, fuckboy!gojo, pining geto suguru, established relationship wtih gojo, slight angst

author's note: JJK MANGA SPOILERS -> wondering if geto didn't die if gojo's personality would've stayed the same from hidden inventory....hm. 🤔🤔🤔anyway, so I made the decision for myself. FUCKBOY ADULT GOJO FTW 🗣🗣

“ Suguru .”

“Hm?”

“Do you remember her?” Satoru has been smiling down at his phone for the last ten minutes, scouring your Instagram feed, double tapping each and every photo that has you in a skimpy outfit, suggestive pose, or both. 

Distracted, Suguru makes a faint noise of agreement, clearly not caring enough to give Gojo his full attention, rather focusing on digging through his desk drawers to find the paperwork Yaga was asking for.

Satoru picks up on his best friend's lack of interest in the topic, clicks his tongue and holds his phone out. “Suguru. Look. ”

With a hefty sigh (or groan? No. Most definetly a grunt), Suguru shoots his head up from his drawer, frustrated, sending Gojo a bored look. It doesn’t phase him, instead he just wiggles his phone playfully, a smug grin rising to his cheeks. Suguru sighs, peeved and weary, squinting his eyes to get a better look at the screen from across the room.

“Just— fuck , just  wear your goddamn glasses, Suguru—”

“Hell no . Just pass me the phone.”

Satoru obliges, standing from Suguru’s office couch to hand his phone over. “I stumbled across one of our clients Instagram and she was hot , so I stalked her pag—”

“Weirdo,” Suguru snickers, too used to his best friend’s antics by now. He looks back down at the phone, trying to figure out what he was supposed to be looking at because there’s five girls on the screen, and he doesn’t recognise any of them.

“—Anyway .” Satoru trails off, his long legs striding over to the other side of the desk, leaning in extra close to Suguru (because Gojo has never understood the concept of personal space , like ever). Using his long index finger, he draws circles in the air before tapping it over your body, posing provocatively in the bathroom mirror with your friends.

Out of the group of five, you stand out the most to Suguru, having been eyeing you before he even knew who you were. He still doesn’t know, to be frank. Satoru has been doing everything and beyond but give him your name, or the reason why he’s supposed to know you. 

“Am I supposed to know who she is?” He asks with a tick of his brow, looking over at Satoru, irked at the way his icy blue eyes full of lust are scanning over your body. 

Suguru nudges him aggressively with his elbow, repeating his question. 

Gojo frowns, rubbing his side with a pout. “You don’t remember her? From Jujutsu High? She sat in front of Shoko and they were friends?” 

“Oh! Her? Really ?” Suguru takes another look at the photo, zooming in nonsensically, completely enthralled with how well you turned out to be. “Damn.”

“Right ?” Satoru sports a cheesy grin, flopping back onto Suguru’s office chair, hands behind his head, digging his fingers into the candy bowl on the edge of Suguru’s desk. “Already DM’d her.” 

Geto scoffs. “For what? To fuck ?”

Satoru pulls his glasses downwards, looking at him as if the answer was obvious. “ Duh ? She looks hot now.” 

“You haven’t seen the girl in—” He thinks back to how long it’d been since he’d graduated. “Eight years . You really think she’s gonna want to talk—”

A notification dings from Satoru’s phone. They both look down at his phone on the table, your username popping up on his screen with a dm saying omg satoru? hi! it’s been so long :) how are you?

Suguru swallows his tongue. “I take back what I said.”

Satoru smiles, grabbing his phone, long fingers already typing out another message to you. He lounges on Suguru’s office couch, legs kicked obnoxiously over the arm. Every time Suguru hears the notification noise from Satoru’s phone, something inside him itches, like a vein just waiting to pop. Instead of Satoru doing his fucking job, like everybody else in this agency, he’s texting some ex-schoolgirl who he’s never said more than 6 words to. The only reason you’re so excited to talk to him, was because he’s Satoru Gojo, and every girl back at Jujutsu High liked Satoru Gojo at one point. 

Suguru wants no part in Satoru’s little scavenger hunt for you. He’s got better things to do. In all honesty, it’s dehumanising. Satoru was never interested in you, back when you were an average school girl with nothing to offer him. Now you’ve grown up, got a body on you, one that turns him on, one that he thinks is worthy of his attention, he’s showering you with attention.

It’s embarrassing.

Weeks went by and by now, you were most likely publicly with Gojo, letting him spoil you with gifts, dates, sex… Suguru knows this because Satoru tells him everything. It’s not an exaggeration either. He can probably name everything about your body, everything that turns you on, everything that you like, just the right way you like Gojo’s fingers curled inside you. 

The list goes on…and on . 

Satoru is shameless. His hands wander everywhere, grabbing onto your ass with a smack, indifferent to the fact that he’s in public. He even went as far as to send Suguru your own naughty pics ;), he’d call them, spamming Geto’s phone—without a care—of pics and videos of you bent over, back in a perfect arch, squealing into the pillow as Gojo’s thick cock thrusts inside you, angling his dick to hit that spot that makes your fingers dig into the sheets, scrunching them into a ball. 

Geto feels guilty .

Guilty of the fact he can have regular conversations with you that seem innocent at first, until he’s picturing your naked body underneath your clothes. Guilty of the fact at night he’s picturing you in those positions. Guilty of the fact he wishes you were with him , not Satoru. He could treat you better, he would not send your pictures out to his friends, rather save them in a photo album called my eyes only. He’d treat you well, not slap your ass in public at any given moment.

His first mistake was saving the photos and videos. It’s disgusting how many times he’s rewatched them, stroked his cock at night to the pictures of you kneeling in front of a mirror, shirt lifted up and over your tits, flashing them to the camera for Gojo’s eyes, not his. 

His second mistake was spending the night at Satoru’s, taking the offer simply because he mentioned that you’d be there. Sneaking glances over at you curled over by Gojo’s side, hiding your face into his chest when the movie scene is a little too scary for your liking, didn’t help his soothe his feelings for you, only strengthening them, wishing you were by his side right now, giving him warmth as you wrap your arms around his sides, snuggling into him. 

His third mistake was letting you flirt with him when Gojo went upstairs. He didn’t stop your wandering fingers trail over his stomach, tickling the flat plane of his stomach as you whisper in his ear how much you want him . 

Suguru should have told you off, told you Satoru is right upstairs, and if you hurt him, he’d never forgive you. But instead, he let you press your lips to his, let you cup his cheeks to deepen the kiss, licking, and moaning into his mouth. He kisses you like he’s touch starved, strong hands gripping your hips, tugging you onto his lap, grinding his hips up into the feeling of yours.

Satoru climbs back down the stairs, humming a stupid tune before stopping in his tracks at the sight. Suguru pulls you off him, lips parted in shock, wondering how he’s going to explain this.

“ What ? You started without me?” Gojo dedicates the question towards you who giggles and dips your face into Suguru’s neck, peeking past the curve of Geto’s throat over at your boyfriend.

“I couldn’t help myself, Satoru.”

Wait, what? Excuse me—what the fuck. 

Suguru can’t voice his opinion, looking dumbfounded at Satoru. He’s tugging his shirt off, losing it to the kitchen and hops on the couch next to you, dragging you by the hips off his lap, onto all fours in front of him. 

What the actual fuck ?

You make heated eye contact with Suguru, enjoying the way his eyes widen marginally at the sight of you. “You want me to suck your dick?”

“ Huh ?” He’s finally able to speak, only muttering those words as you and Gojo laugh at each other. “What’s so funny ? Is this some kind of—of— porno , or something?!”

“Do you want it to be?” You perk up with an idea. “I can get my phone out if you like.”

Gojo grins again, looking down at your body, hand clapping down on your left cheek, still sore from earlier today. “ Good idea, baby.” He smacks you again, satisfied with the squeak you let out.

The way you two are acting like this is just a regular Saturday and not the most confusing day of Suguru’s life has him baffled. 

“What? No—no ? Why’re you so comfortable with recording—”

“It’s not like anything you haven’t seen before, Suguru.” You’re tugging your shirt off, reaching behind you to remove your bra.

Geto feels like his world stops turning at that moment. Time stood still for a second, his heart beating erratically. “You—you knew ?”

Gojo wraps a hand around your throat, and you’re biting your lip as he lifts you upwards till your back is against his chest. “Yeah, she knew. It was her idea, after all. Ain’t she a freak?” As if to prove a point, he tightens his grip on your throat a little, making a show of his veiny hands. 

You let out a little moan that goes straight to Suguru’s cock. The twitch was obvious in those grey sweatpants of his. Having noticed it, you’re reaching forward to run your finger along the length of it. The feeling is ticklish, and it makes Suguru’s stomach clench a little.

He’s still a little (a lot?) confused, but decided to think later. This was a once in a lifetime moment. Who’s he to not seize the opportunity? 

“So she wanted me to see all those nudes?”

Gojo skims a hand down your back, and it arches involuntarily, trying to chase the tickle of his fingers. “Answer him, baby.”

“Y—yeah, Suguru—” Your voice comes out in a soft, choked off moan when Gojo’s fingers play with your clit. 

His cock does another twitch in his pants.

“Satoru wanted— oh—” It’s hard to speak when Gojo’s toying with your body like this, dipping his fingers in and out momentarily everytime you open your mouth to speak. 

He lets go of your throat, and begins pushing you downwards, your arms landing by Geto’s thighs. You make eye contact with him and watch those brown eyes of his drop down to your lips. 

“Baby. Wanna show him how good you are at sucking cock?”

You blink over at Suguru, not bothering to ask with your lips, but your eyes, batting your lashes at him in a way he can’t resist. With a faint nod of his head, you’re leaning down to fiddle with his drawstrings, pulling his sweats down to his knees. 

Satoru trails a line of hot, wet kisses along your back, down to your cunt, kissing sloppily at your clit. You moan into Geto’s mouth at the feeling, slowly grinding your hips back against Satoru’s tongue. Geto’s cock sits thick, and heavy in your hands, stroking lazily as you suck the length of his tongue.

“Alright, stop teasin’ him, baby. Show him.” Gojo winks at Suguru who’s busy focusing on the feel of your hand on his dick. 

So warm, so soft; he briefly wonders how your mouth would feel. 

As if reading his thoughts, you slip away in favour of bending downwards, kitten licking the tip of his cock. Suguru has to bite down on his lip to stop himself from moaning, head throwing itself back when you begin sucking slowly , cheeks hollowing out as you bob your head up and down, engulfing his cock in the warmth of your mouth. 

“Holy— fuck , shit—” Geto spits out every curse he can think of, fingers twitching at his side to stop himself from pushing your head down.

Gojo—being the obnoxious man he is— places his huge hand on the back of your head, pushing you down, down , till you were choking on Suguru’s cock, nose brushing the skin of his pelvis. The sound of gargling filled the room, and Suguru groans, loud and long , chin dropping to his chest to pay close attention to your lips as they’re wrapped around his cock. 

“Yeah? How’s that feel, Suguru?”

“It’s—dude, fuck . Amazing.” The sight is obscene, and his cock twitches in your mouth again. Your hips wriggle from side to side, craving Gojo’s touch down there. 

Taking the hint, Satoru lets go of your head, moving them to your hips and angling them upwards. Suguru expects you to lift yourself off and take a breath. He doesn’t expect you to grab his limp hand from his side, putting it on the back of your head, looking at him suggestively with a slight nod of your head that has your throat tickling his cock.

Your giggle trails off into a moan when Gojo thrusts his cock inside you without fanfare, enjoying the way your back arches even more into the feeling, loving the way Geto hisses when your throat tightens around his length. He cums down your throat involuntarily, hand moving your head up and down to chase the feeling of your mouth as his cum spills in your mouth.

He pulls you off and you begin screaming when Gojo presses you further into the couch, holding you by your hips as his cock thrusts into you, uncaring of the way your body wasn’t fully prepped. Geto watches with wide eyes as you scratch at the couch cushions, trying to lift your back up, just a little, only to get pushed back down by Satoru’s hand. 

“Gojo, dude, she’s—”

“She’s fine,” Gojo grits out, squeezing the fat of your hips, fucking into you deeper just to prove a point.

The position makes you feel every inch of his cock, crying out his name as tingles race through your body, face heating up profoundly as he jackhammers into you till your body is nothing but mush .

You grab the only thing you can reach, Suguru’s hand, squeezing, digging your nails into his palm and he can only watch the part where your bodies connect, pay close attention to the sight of his cock fucking your wetness back into your tight hole.

“I’m gonna cum—” Gojo’s hips stutter, the rhythm he’d set falling off exceedingly. “You want me to fill you, huh, baby?” When you don’t respond, brain is too mushy to comprehend he’s even talking to you, he spanks you, hard and fast , till your body jerks, walls spasming around his cock that’s overstimulating your pussy to the highest degree.

“Satoru—I’m !” The words barely leave your lips before you cum on his cock, nails digging painfully into Suguru’s hands, making him wince, but squeezes you back for reassurance.

“I’m close. Fuck .” His hips still with one final thrust before there’s a wet squlech, his cum filling your pussy to  the brim. He rolls into you a few times, ensuring it stays there, before pulling out, with another wet squelch.

The sound is music to Suguru’s ears.

Almost instantly, you flop onto the couch, laying limp and boneless, as Satoru climbs off it, stretching his long legs. Times like this are where Suguru wishes his friend had some common decency; watching him stroll over to the bathroom to wash his hands and clean up.

“Hey, you good?” Suguru pokes at your side to see if you’re even alive.

Your laugh is muffled by the cushions, but you’re using the little energy you have left in you to swat his hand away. “Yeah, ‘m good.”

Everything feels sore, your jaw, your thighs, your legs. Everything hurts, but you manage to flip yourself over so you’re laying on your back. You stare up at Suguru with a smile; his heartbeat practically pounding against his chest now. 

“C’mere,” you say, gesturing for him to come closer. 

He leans down and your hand flys to the back of his head, holding him there as you kiss him, slowly. The taste of him is faint, but there, the salty after taste almost makes him sick before he melts into it, licking into your mouth with fervour. 

You let his hand roam downwards, cupping your tit, toying with it in his palm as Satoru enters the room again, stretching his long limbs. “Ah, that was fun.”

Suguru mumbles, “Yeah” into your mouth, thumbs rolling against your nipples.

“Oi. You wanna fuck her next?”

He pulls off, watching the line of spit break mid air, dripping onto the side of your mouth. His thumb catches it, swiping the flat of his thumb against it, shoving it back into your mouth. “Is she even—” He can’t speak properly, not when you’re sucking his thumb like that, looking up at him like that . 

You’re so beautiful, it’s unfair . It’s unfair you’re with someone like Gojo who’d probably leave you in a month from now. He looks over at his friend, then looks back down at you, waiting for his answer. The relationship won’t last,  he knows it. He knows something will come up, causing your downfall, (he definitely isn’t praying on it), and when it does, he’ll be there to pick up the pieces, put you back together, make you his. 

“Nah. It’s cool.” He runs his thumb back at the middle of your lip, focused on the way the soft, tender flesh flattenns beneath his touch. “I’ll wait.”

spoiler alert : you and gojo don't break up

.

.

.

.

.

time for geto to convince gojo to turn poly 👻

[starlightrosa]

Fizzarolli's Nerves

Summary: Fizzarolli is preparing for Mammon's yearly clown contest, and he's getting nervous, as he just has to be perfect. But all this practicing is disrupting Asmodeus's plan of relaxing with his beloved. That won't do at all.

Pairing: Fizz/Asmodeus

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Tickling, Swearing, Mind-Rotting Fluff. (Author regrets nothing.)

(My very first fic! Please be nice <3)

“You’ll do it, Fizz. You’ll be fine. You need to be perfect for Mammon. Always perfect.” the imp mumbled, practicing everything he felt he needed to practice in order to win Mammon’s clown contest for the tenth time in a row. Fizz knew the elements of the contest off by heart, having won it so many times. So everything running through that little imp’s head was covered.

Balloon animals. Pie gags. Comedy section. Singing, dancing, acrobatics. You name it, Fizz practiced it. There was certainly no shortage on what Fizzarolli could do, and he had to win. He had to be perfect.

That was how Asmodeus, King of Lust and Fizz’s loving partner- er, BUSINESS partner, found him.

“What’s the difference between a snowman and a snow-woman? The snowballs! Wait, no. More energy, I need to have lots more energy. Like, twenty seven coffees kinda energy. Okay. You got this, Fizz. You got this. Try again. What’s the difference between a snow man and a snow woman? The snowballs! Hmm, still missing something. What could I do? Maybe I could juggle? Do a pose? Maybe I could hit myself in the face with a snowball? Um… ah, think, Fizz!” the jester rambled.

Ozzie yawned as he came into the living room where Fizz was, the rooster rubbing at his eyes.

“Froggie, it’s eight in the morning. Are you seriously practicing this early in the morning? Come back to bed, babe. You’re gonna be exhausted…” Asmodeus murmured, the grand lord rubbing at his eyes.

Alas, the imp did not heed Ozzie’s warning.

“Ozzie, I have to be perfect for Mammon. If I’m not perfect, then I’ll lose! And I don’t wanna lose, that just-! Ugh. It just can’t happen, okay? I need to be perfect. I need to be better than perfect! I-!”

And that was when Ozzie got on his knees and scooped Fizz off the ground, pulling his beloved into a hug. Despite initially struggling to get out, Fizz soon relaxed and sunk his head into his lover’s chest.

“Fizzie~” Ozzie coaxed, using that voice that Fizz liked to hear. Honey rich and sweet, it always comforted Fizzarolli enough to talk about what was bothering him, and it brought Ozzie some peace of mind to be able to know what was distressing his beloved imp partner.

“Ugh. Ozz, what if I’m not good enough this year? What if I don’t win?” Fizz asked. Ozzie just chuckled.

“Fizz, you’ve won for nine times straight. Ten times this year, guaranteed. And you wanna know why you win so much? Cause you got some talent about you. Plus, Mammon says he wants the best, and we all know you’re the best he’s got. And besides, if that fat Christmas tree wants something better, he just isn’t gonna find it. Plus he won’t give the others a chance, he’ll pull the strings so you win anyway, and I’ll put money on that bullshit.”

“I need to win, Oz! And I need to practice if I want to win. Can you let me go?” Fizz asked, trying to gently pry himself out of Asmodeus’s arms. The King of Lust, however, did not budge a single bit.

“Well, I would on any other day, but I am not having my Fizzie Frog being anxious as fuck. So here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna go back to bed, watch a stupid rom-com, and laugh at it, spending time with each other along the way.”

“Nice thought. But maybe later, Ozzie.” Fizz murmured. And that was when Asmodeus’s grip tightened slightly.

“I don’t think I phrased it as a question, Froggie~” Asmodeus responded, the Lord of Lust’s fingers moving slightly towards Fizz’s stomach. Fizz squirmed a little in Ozzie’s arms, already knowing where this was going.

“Ozzie, don’t you fucking dare!” Fizz yelped, biting back a smile.

“Oh, but I do fucking dare, baby~ give Ozzie that tum-tum, and I’ll tickle those worries right outta ya!” he declared, his fingers finally landing as he snuck them up Fizzarolli’s jester shirt, softly poking and scratching along Fizz’s belly.

Poor Fizzarolli had no chance to resist.

“Pffffhahahaha! O-Ozziehehehe!” Fizz giggled, gently squirming side to side in his lover’s arms, trying to gently slap Asmodeus’s tickly fingers off.

“Hands to yourself, Froggie. Don’t make me get them out of the way~” Asmodeus teased.

Fizz pouted playfully even as he struggled a bit. Rough tickles made him laugh a lot, but these soft and gentle tickles were much worse sometimes if Ozzie was the one tickling Fizz.

ESPECIALLY if Ozzie was the one tickling Fizz.

Ozzie saw the playful pout and he tutted. His Fizzy, pouting at tickles? Oh, that just would not do, no sir.

Asmodeus migrated his gentle scratches down to Fizzarolli’s hips, enjoying the squeaky laughter that slipped out of his beloved’s mouth. “Aww, someone’s squeaky. Squeaky Fizzie.”

“Hahahaha!!! A-Asmodeus, it tickles! Q-Quihihit it!” Fizzarolli managed to press out, a dark black blush adorning his cheeks. Asmodeus had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop audibly cooing at how goddamn cute his boyfriend was being.

“Not until you agree to come relax with me, Froggie. Just say that you’re done practicing for the day and these tickles will stop. How ‘bout that, huh? Seems a fair deal to me.”

“B-But I can’t stop!”

“If you can’t stop, then neither do these tickles, Froggie.” Asmodeus cooed, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers slipped up to Fizz’s torso to prove a point, beginning to gently count his beloved’s ribs. “Two. Four. Six. Eight…”

Fizzarolli was lost in snorting laughter as he felt Asmodeus’s fingers lightly working his ribs.

“Ahahahaha, hehehehe! N-Not fahahahair, Ozzie! Hahahahaha!” Fizzarolli cackled, the odd snort leaving him. For Lucifer’s sake, how could one imp be this cute? Asmodeus felt his heart squeeze in adoration with every snort that came from Fizzarolli’s mouth.

“All is fair in love and laughter, Froggie.” Asmodeus shot back.

Fizzarolli threw his head back, his jester’s hat jangling as he did so. Satan’s beard, it tickled so much!

“Aah! Ah, ah! Nohohohohahaha! Ozzie, not there! Not there, plehehehease!!” Fizzarolli begged, feeling his lover’s fingers tracing at that one spot at the crook of his neck.

Ozzie only chuckled, not stopping the traces. “I’ve not even done anything yet, Fizzie Frog. You can’t be that ticklish here, surely?” he asked, though Ozzie knew much, much differently. It was one of his little rituals he did. Before they both went to bed, Ozzie would give a gentle kiss on Fizz’s neck each night. The imp was rather ticklish on his neck though, and the feeling of Fizz slamming his face into Ozzie’s chest, trying to muffle his ticklish giggles never failed to bring a smile to the Sin’s face.

“N-No, I’m nohohohot!” Fizz lied, immediately going for the defensive move. But Asmodeus was no fool when it came to his beloved partner. Ozzie knew Fizz’s tells, just as Fizzarolli knew his.

“Is that so, Froggie? Funny, I seem to remember that you can barely handle my goodnight kisses on that neck of yours. Like, all I do is this…” he explains, landing a kiss on Fizzarolli’s neck, right into the crook of his neck with an overexaggerated “MWAH!” noise, grinning wickedly. “…And you just fall about laughing!”

Fizz, as expected, burst into hysterical giggles as he kicked his robotic legs every which way, trying desperately to not kick his beloved in the face.

“O-Ozzie! Stop it, hahaha! Stop it, that tickles, Ozzie!” Fizz cried out, a wide smile betraying his true feelings.

Then Asmodeus decided to get a little bit mean. He gently held Fizz against his chest and nuzzled the crook of his imp partner’s neck… before blowing a soft raspberry into the crook. Fizz absolutely squealed.

“EEEEEEEEK! HAHAHA, AAAH HAHAHA! SHIT, HAHA! OKAY, OZZIE, OKAY!” the ticklish little imp shrieked, going limp in Asmodeus’s arms. And that was when Ozzie knew he’d had enough.

“Thought as much, babe.” Asmodeus smirked, finally switching the mood from playful to cuddly as he stopped the tickles, his fingers softly scratching the top of Fizzarolli’s head. The imp melted under his touch as Ozzie walked back to their shared bedroom, the doors closing behind them.

Asmodeus settled Fizz under the covers with him. And soon the pair drifted off, smiles on both of their faces as the sounds of that dumb rom-com in question, Pretty Woman, played in the background forgotten by them both.

Finito! Hope you enjoyed this one :)

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Could you talk about the designs Viv makes? I don't see many posts talking about this and I wanted some design tips, I intend to post my own cartoon designs (I just don't know when) and I wanted some tips <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

Hey hey!! Id love to talk about designs!

I actually answered this entire question and then uh…. Tumblr deleted my draft so let me try to redo all this lmao

Vivzie has a problem with bodytypes I’ve noticed. Almost all of her cast is insanely skinny and the only two “plus-size” characters I can think of are Millie and Mimzy. Meanwhile, Angel Dust, Vox, Stolas, & Alastor are a few very skinny characters I can think of off the top of my head.

For the best example, I’m going to be using Vox for now. Here is my Vox design next to his canon appearance

They don’t look too different right? This is still easily identifiable as Vox because his main characteristics are there; stupid little hat, tv head, thats about it.

My design also keeps elements of his suit with the stripes and shoulder pads, though in my design his body is a bit wider and his shoulders + waist make him look more commanding and intimidating while still maintaining a sense of professionalism. As for his canon design, he definitely looks sketchy, but he doesn’t really give me that commanding sense of popularity or authority that I feel an overlord should have, especially one with such a wide range of influence as Vox. His canon design looks top heavy and a little pathetic in that “he was born in a wet cardboard box all alone” way. Don’t get me wrong, a small waist can do wonders for a design, but when your designs start to look like… this

I think you might have a problem.

Now, I know I am nowhere near the best character designer in the world, but I have designed my fair share and I think I have enough experience to flatter myself a little.

This is a very simple design choice to make. Body types are probably some of the most intricate and interesting parts of a person in my opinion, and with a lineup like this where everyone looks more or lest the same from the torso down, it’s kind of a dead and sad looking cast, and not in the intended way.

I’m aware my designs are very detailed and wouldn’t be easy to animate with my style, but it’s very easy to draw extra body types with a style fit for TV.

Gravity Falls is a great example of stylised bodies and also using them to build personality. By looking at these characters you can generally tell what their base personality is probably like right? You can do the same thing to an extent with the Hazbin Cast, but all of their designs get muddled into the other. Can you even tell where half of these people are positioned in this screenshot

It’s so pink and red im going to start seeing green when I look away. There are so many colours, use them!!!! You can still slap a red overlay over it and make it “look like hell” or whatever, but you’re still gonna have more variety.

Here’s my body/fur references for Angel and Husk. They are almost entirely opposite to eachother but you can probably get an idea for how they are based on colour and shape. I recommend studying other TV shows and things like anime or movies to see how body types and colours impact character design, but general things I always think of are, like I’ve said, body type, personality, colour, and silhouette. Silhouette is a bit harder to pin since a character can have a very recognizable silhouette and still not be a good design, but honestly to me as long as you can tell which character is which from silhouette you’re good to go on that front.

- Generally just don’t reuse the same colour palette over and over (heres some of my hazbin colours)

- Give diversity in shapes when you can and when it benefits the design

- Try to show their personality through their clothes and pose

- Don’t be afraid to add little physical or personality details that other people might not notice, a good design should keep you interested in tiny details like that or surprise you later on

- Pay attention to what would and wouldn’t make sense (ex. A character that doesn’t like modern fashion wearing modern fashion)

Im not the best at explaining all of this but I hope you could grasp even just a tiny bit of an idea from this! At the end of the day as long as you’re having fun and not actively harming people with the designs then you should be good to go

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: hello! thank you for running this blog. i hope your vacation was well-spent!

i am an enfp in the third year of my engineering degree. i had initially wanted to do literature and become an author. however, due to the job security associated with this field, my parents got me to do computer science, specialising in artificial intelligence. i did think it was the end of my life at the time, but eventually convinced myself otherwise. after all, i could still continue reading and writing as hobbies.

now, three years in, i am having the same thoughts again. i've been feeling disillusioned from the whole gen-ai thing due to art theft issues and people using it to bypass - dare i say, outsource - creative work. also, the environmental impact of this technology is astounding. yet, every instructor tells us to use ai to get information that could easily be looked up in textbooks or google. what makes it worse is that i recently lost an essay competition to a guy who i know for a fact used chatgpt.

i can't help feeling that by working in this industry, i am becoming a part of the problem. at the same time, i feel like a conservative old person who is rejecting modern technology and griping about 'the good old days'.

another thing is that college work is just so all-consuming and tiring that i've barely read or written anything non-academic in the past few years. quitting my job and becoming a writer a few years down the road is seeming more and more like a doomed possibility.

i've been trying to do what i can at my level. i write articles about ethical considerations in ai for the college newsletter. i am in a technical events club, and am planning out an artificial intelligence introductory workshop for juniors where i will include these topics, if approved by the superiors.

from what i've read on your blog, it doesn't seem like you have a very high opinion of ai, either, but i've only seen you address it in terms of writing. i'd like to know, are there any ai applications that you find beneficial? i think that now that i am here, i could try to make a difference by working on projects that actually help people, rather than use some chatgpt api to do the same things, repackaged. i just felt like i need the perspective of someone who thinks differently than all those around me. not in a 'feed my tunnel-vision' way, but in a 'tell me i'm not stupid' way.

----------------------

It's kind of interesting (in the "isn't life whacky?" sort of way) you chose the one field that has the potential to decimate the field that you actually wanted to be in. I certainly understand your inner conflict and I'll give you my personal views, but I don't know how much they will help your decision making.

I'm of course concerned about the ramifications on writing not just because I'm a writer but because, from the perspective of education and personal growth, I understand the enormous value of writing skills. Learning to write analytically is challenging. I've witnessed many people meet that challenge bravely, and in the process, they became much more intelligent and thoughtful human beings, better able to contribute positively to society. So, it pains me to see the attitude of "don't have to learn it cuz the machine does it". However, writing doesn't encompass my full view on AI.

I wouldn't necessarily stereotype people who are against new technology as "old and conservative", though some of them are. My parents taught me to be an early adopter of new tech, but it doesn't mean I don't have reservations about it. I think, psychologically, the main reason people resist is because of the real threat it poses. Historically, we like to gloss over the real human suffering that results from technological advancement. But it is a reasonable and legitimate response to resist something that threatens your livelihood and even your very existence.

For example, it is already difficult enough to make a living in the arts, and AI just might make it impossible. Even if you do come up with something genuinely creative and valuable, how are you going to make a living with it? As soon as creative products are digitized, they just get scraped up, regurgitated, and disseminated to the masses with no credit or compensation given to the original creator. It's cannibalism. Cannibalism isn't sustainable.

I wonder if people can seriously imagine a society where human creativity in the arts has been made obsolete and people only have exposure to AI creation. There are plenty of people who don't fully grasp the value of human creativity, so they wouldn't mind it, but I would personally consider it to be a kind of hell.

I occasionally mention that my true passion is researching "meaning" and how people come to imbue their life with a sense of meaning. Creativity has a major role to play in 1) almost everything that makes life/living feel worthwhile, 2) generating a culture that is worth honoring and preserving, and 3) building a society that is worthy of devoting our efforts to.

Living in a capitalist society that treats people as mere tools of productivity and treats education as a mere means to a paycheck already robs us of so much meaning. In many ways, AI is a logical result of that mindset, of trying to "extract" whatever value humans have left to offer, until we are nothing but empty shells.

I don't think it's a coincidence that AI comes out of a society that devalues humanity to the point where a troubling portion of the population suffers marginalization, mental disorder, and/or feels existentially empty. Many of the arguments I've heard from AI proponents about how it can improve life sound to me like they're actually going to accelerate spiritual starvation.

Existential concerns are serious enough, before we even get to the environmental concerns. For me, environment is the biggest reason to be suspicious of AI and its true cost. I think too many people are unaware of the environmental impact of computing and networking in general, let alone running AI systems. I recently read about how much energy it takes to store all the forgotten chats, memes, and posts on social media. AI ramps up carbon emissions dramatically and wastes an already dwindling supply of fresh water.

Can we really afford a mass experiment with AI at a time when we are already hurtling toward climate catastrophe? When you think about how much AI is used for trivial entertainment or pointless busywork, it doesn't seem worth the environmental cost. I care about this enough that I try to reduce my digital footprint. But I'm just one person and most of the population is trending the other way.

With respect to integrating AI into personal life or everyday living, I struggle to see the value, often because those who might benefit the most are the ones who don't have access. Yes, I've seen some people have success with using AI to plan and organize, but I also always secretly wonder at how their life got to the point of needing that much outside help. Sure, AI may help with certain disadvantages such as learning or physical disabilities, but this segment of the population is usually the last to reap the benefits of technology.

More often than not, I see people using AI to lie, cheat, steal, and protect their own privilege. It's particularly sad for me to see people lying to themselves, e.g., believing that they're smart for using AI when they're actually making themselves stupider, or thinking that an AI companion can replace real human relationship.

I continue to believe that releasing AI into the wild, without developing proper safeguards, was the biggest mistake made so far. The revolts at OpenAI prove, once again, that companies cannot be trusted to regulate themselves. Tech companies need a constant stream of data to feed the beast and they're willing to sacrifice our well-being to do it. It seems the only thing we can do as individuals is stop offering up our data, but that's not going to happen en masse.

Even though you're aware of these issues, I want to mention them for those who aren't, and for the sake of emphasizing just how important it is to regulate AI and limit its use to the things that are most likely to produce a benefit to humanity, in terms of actually improving quality of human life in concrete terms.

In my opinion, the most worthwhile place to use AI is medicine and medical research. For example, aggregating and analyzing information for doctors, assisting surgeons with difficult procedures, and coming up with new possibilities for vaccines, treatments, and cures is where I'd like to see AI shine. I'd also love to see AI applied to:

scientific research, to help scientists sort, manage, and process huge amounts of information

educational resources, to help learners find quality information more efficiently, rather than feeding them misinformation

engineering and design, to build more sustainable infrastructure

space exploration, to find better ways of traveling through space or surviving on other planets

statistical analysis, to help policymakers take a more objective look at whether solutions are actually working as intended, as opposed to being blinded by wishful thinking, bias, hubris, or ideology (I recognize this point is controversial since AI can be biased as well)

Even though you work in the field, you're still only one person, so you don't have that much more power than anyone else to change its direction. There's no putting the worms back in the can at this point. I agree with you that, for the sake of your well-being, staying in the field means choosing your work carefully. However, if you want to work for an organization that doesn't sacrifice people at the altar of profit, it might be slim pickings and the pay might not be great. Staying true to your values can be costly too.

[echobx]

Timeloop - JJ Maybank × fem!reader part 2

summary: y/n meets JJ for the first time and she doesn't know that it will turn her whole life upside down, literally

warnings: none

word count: 1k

author's note: this is so short but I promise I have a vision. pls be patient with me 😭

masterlist part 1

There's a certain type of person in this world who only thinks of themselves, only wishes the best for their own good, not caring about anyone else, ever. And no matter how much I pride myself to not be this person, my actions have made me into a person like that. Selfish. Egotistical. Narcissistic, maybe.

It starts on a Tuesday, perfect sunshine, warm, bearable 72 °F with a light breeze that is blowing through the trees next to our new house. My room is filled with boxes, most of which contain stuff that I won't even need here. Too warm for that. But I spend my day unpacking, anyway. It's a fresh start, and my parents could have picked a way worse place to live than the Outer Banks.

“Y/n, we're going out for dinner. Come on down!” My mom yells from the foot of the stairs, and I quickly grab my phone and my headphones before running downstairs to meet her. It's just my dad, my mom and my little sister. We left the rest of the family behind, not that I am looking forward to seeing them again at Thanksgiving…

“Can you take the headphones off, honey? We're trying to have dinner,” my dad complains after we sat down and a girl around my age hands us each a menu.

“Hi, I'm Kiara, I'll be your waitress for the night. Welcome to the Wreck,” she says, with a forced smile. “Just call me over when you're ready to order.” And as quickly as she appeared, she's gone again. My eyes follow her inside the establishment, where she starts to talk to a group of boys. One of them turns his head to look at me. Tall, blonde, muscly but not scary looking. And as quickly as his gaze was on me, it's gone again.

After dinner, we make our way out of the restaurant, and while my dad pays, I turn to look back at the boys. They are still just hanging out in a corner, joking around and not paying any mind to the people around them. I like how careless they are, how free.

“Honey?” my mom speaks up and rips me out of my thoughts, pulling me with her towards the door and away from the boys.

The next day, I wake up with a headache. My diary is lying on my face and I have ink stains on my fingers.

A shower helps with the stains and lifts my headache just enough to let me survive breakfast, so I think. But my mother has different ideas.

All morning, she keeps asking me why I was so interested in those boys the night prior, and I really don't have a good answer for her. Maybe because they didn't have parents around them all the time. Maybe the fact that they seemed somewhat mysterious still. Maybe, just maybe, I had, for the first time, actually found someone interesting with a single look, and not because I had to dissect their personality to find the bits that complimented my own.

“I don't know, mom. I don't even know who they are. Can you please let it go,” I huff after she posed another question.

“Fine. Did you finish with your room?” she asks instead, and I sigh in relief.

“Yes. Well… I only need a few poster strips and stuff to decorate, but I'll go buy something later.”

“Sounds lovely,” my dad notes, his eyes solely fixed on his tablet while reading the paper.

“Anything new in the world?” I ask and take another bite of my toast.

“Nothing too important. You can read it yourself if you'd download the app,” he replies.

“Oh no, she can't. Y/n has too many pictures of ugly men on her phone. No storage for news,” my little sister laughs loudly, and I wish to sink down into the core of our planet earth. As if having a five year younger sister isn't already punishment enough. That's also not true. I love my sister, but she also drives me crazy with her 11-year-old brain.

“I'll read it later on my laptop,” I say and my dad just nods.

Getting out of the house feels like finally being able to breathe again. I have learned to take my diary with me everywhere I go, not wanting to have last year's incident repeated where my sister took my diary to school and read it aloud to all of her friends and word had gotten around and soon after every teenager in my area had known my secrets. And not even the funny ones. No, my sister had decided to only share the most embarrassing part of my life. For example the fact that I follow a strict protocol when talking to anyone, even my closest friends at the time. And they all had made fun of me, or mocked me or just called me all kinds of vile things because of it.

But that doesn't matter now because this is a new start. I'll find better friends. Preferably ones who I don't have to pretend for. Ones that don't make me feel the need to script out conversations long before they happen.

“Woah, easy there, princess,” a voice rips me out of my thoughts, firm hands grasping my shoulders. “You good? You nearly ran into that shelf.”

“I'm fine, thank you,” I mumble before picking up my head, blinking twice, and a third time. He's even prettier from up close. Disheveled blonde hair falling into his face that is adorned by the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Perfectly matched to his pointy nose and the pink lips.

His eyebrows furrow and I look away, hearing him clear his throat and feeling him drop his hands.

“Thank you for that,” I mumble and smile while looking down, too scared that I might get lost if I look at him for too long.

“Yeah, it's no problem, at all,” he drags out his words and takes a step back. “Just be careful next time.”

I nod, and he's gone, but I'm still nodding. Fate isn't something in my area of expertise. I have never had any luck of any sort whatsoever. But running into him the day after seeing him for the first time- Maybe there truly is something out there that plays our cards, and it played mine just right.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @ijustwantttoread @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimocarz @m2m2m2 @th3eternalersi @chiaraanatra @yourmumstoy

[familyabolisher]

Sorry to ask something somewhat related to the recent discourse, but do you have any advice to someone trying to teach themselves lit analysis or lit theory? Seems like most online advice ends at "get an English degree lol"

first of all sorry for leaving this for so long, between work and various other Demands in my life i didn’t really have the time/energy to sit down and write up a proper answer for a while. anyway: imo, what’s more important than working your way through a long list of critical theory is honing an ability to respond to a text yourself; being able to take notice of your emotional responses, being able to ask questions about what the text does and what it responds to and whether you think it succeeds or fails. questions like ‘what is the text about?’ are often too vague, and assume that critical practice is a task limited to investigating the ‘correct’ metaphysical properties of a text that we have to uncover, as well as presenting literature as wholly utilitarian (under this framework, a text becomes a vehicle for a ‘theme,’ and nothing more.) in the list below, i’ve tried to be a little more precise about the kinds of questions that can help you become a more confident + critical reader.

[disclaimer: i am not any kind of expert, i have studied english lit at degree level and i do read a lot / make a habit of talking about what i read, but i would not consider myself especially ‘qualified’ and nor should you. i’m explaining a process that works for me, not providing a one-size-fits-all solution to the question of analytical methodology.]

the essence of literary practice is that a text has a terrain where it has to be met with, and where it will be accountable to forces that are often beyond its control or beyond its immediate borders, and a terrain where it asks to be met with, and towards which it will attempt to navigate the reader; the reader’s job is to meet with it on both terrains, synthesise them, and respond to them. so, some of the questions you should be asking about a text include:

what is its context? this can mean a lot of things: when and where was it written, and how might the conditions contemporary to its creation be informing the inner working of the text? is it considered part of a particular literary movement; how does it interact with the core characteristics of that movement? does it invoke other works; if so, how does it respond to them? what biographical information about the author might be relevant to the piece? some books will come with an introduction which, if written well, would cover at least the outstanding details on this list; you can also have a look on wikipedia or other such websites to get a feel for the conditions under which the text was created.

how does it respond to this context? rather than assuming a text to be a passive body onto which its external conditions are exerting their unilateral force, we should always understand a text as being in active dialogue with the context that shaped it. what are the questions typically posed within the movement or genre to which it belongs; how does it answer these questions? does it build on its predecessors in any way? if it’s a responsive text (ie. consistently invoking an earlier text), what does it have to say about the text to which it responds; how does it develop or contravene the template from which it was building? how might it be responding to the questions of its time; which paradigms are challenged? which are endorsed, actively or tacitly? what goes unmentioned? i emphasise critical engagement with context so heavily because it’s often where the meat of the text can be found. 

what are the conditions which made this text possible? this is a little different to questions about context, which have a far broader scope; this is a question which seeks to treat a text not as a thing that came into existence of its own accord, but as a thing that emerged as a result of a process of material production that depends upon particular conditions. is it a mainstream publishing house, or an indie press, or self-published? how does this affect its authority, or the standard to which we hold it? how does this affect its relationship to narratives of cultural hegemony? what can that tell us about what hegemony can and cannot absorb? this is me being a big marxist about it but i think this question is woefully neglected in literary studies lol

why did the author make the choices that they made? one of the most important things to remember when it comes to literary analysis is that every choice made in a text is deliberate; every choice about what happens, what a character says and does, what a character looks like, how particular characters interact, how scenes and objects and settings are described, what prose style is employed, what word is used in a sentence, etc., is a deliberate choice being made by an external agent (ie. the author, sometimes/arguably also the editor, also the translator if a text is in translation), and those choices are accountable both to the deliberations of the author and the external cultural narratives with which they necessarily enter into a dialogue. ‘why does a character behave in a particular way’ is not a question that invites you to treat the story like a riddle for which you can find an ‘answer,’ but a question that engenders the following: what does their behaviour reveal about the character, and how might this be situated within the discourse of the wider text? does this behaviour reveal any biases on the part of the author? what sort of expectations does this behaviour establish, and are those expectations met or neglected or subverted? the same process can be applied to themes, settings, plot beats - anything, really. why is this particular adjective used - does it have other connotations that the author might want to draw attention to in relation to the object being described? why does this chapter end here and not here? nobody in a novel has agency that extends beyond the boundaries of the novel itself; part of the practice of analysis means discerning which choices were made and why, and whether those choices were good or bad. 

what is your response? analysis is a misleading term for this practice; it’s less about dispassionately picking at a text in search of an ‘answer’ and more about evaluation - assessing the text’s successes and failures and cultivating your personal response to it, which means paying attention to your responses as you go along. some people would argue that ‘did you like/dislike this’ is a juvenile question, but i would disagree - knowing whether you liked or disliked something and being able to describe why it evoked that reaction in you is crucial to an evaluative practice. a text can be conceptually excellent, but falter if its prose is clunky or uninspired or unimaginative; being able to notice when a text isn’t engaging you and asking why that is is an important part of this evaluative process. similarly, what do you make of the themes and developments present in the text; does it dissect its themes with precision, or does it make broad gestures towards concepts without ever articulating them fully? is it original? does it have sufficient depth to it? do you agree with it? are you compelled by it? if you were asked the questions that the novel tries to respond to, what would you say; do you think that the novel misses anything out? has it challenged your own perspective? what are its limitations?

literary analysis is a learned skill, but by its nature of being a skill it gets a lot easier over time, and some of these questions will become intuitive. a good way to hone the skill and develop a greater intimacy with a text is through close reading; this refers to the practice of selecting a passage (or even just a sentence) and picking it apart line by line (word by word, even) to describe in intimate detail exactly how the sentence(s) came to be formed in the way that it/they did. i’ll use the first few sentences of daphne du maurier’s rebecca as an example.

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me. There was a padlock and chain upon the gate. I called in my dream to the lodge-keeper, and had no answer, and peering closer through the rusted spokes of the gate I saw that the lodge was uninhabited.

so a close reading of these sentences might identify:

‘last night i dreamt i went to manderley again’ is in iambic hexameter; this rhythmically satisfying invocation makes for a smooth opening sentence, and contrasts with the longer, more complex sentences that follow on. the change in rhythm through such a contrast helps to maintain momentum throughout the paragraph.

the first sentence also introduces a few key pieces of information - that this story is being told from the first person, that we are opening with a dream (and that the narrative places stock in the significance of dreams), and that the speaker is going to manderley ‘again’ - ie. that this is opening after an event in which manderley was significant. that the speaker going to manderley ‘again’ in a dream holds importance implies an exile from manderley in the ‘real’ world; this already gives us hints at the broader shape of the narrative. 

the speaker’s intimacy with manderley and disregard for ‘telling’ the reader what it is (we do not get, like, ‘manderley is a house’ or something - the passage continues as though we know what manderley is already) helps to develop our sense of immersion in the dreamscape. it also sets manderley up as a place of immense significance.

both ‘it seemed to me’ and the later ‘i called’ have a matter-of-factness to them, a certain dry reporting of the events of the dream which, rather than situating the reader within the texture of the dream itself, refortify us as outside of it, listening to it be explained after the fact.

‘for a while i could not enter, for the way was barred to me’ continues the theme of implied exile that the first sentence gestured towards. the iambic trimeter on ‘the way was barred to me’ creates a lilting cadence which, along with the use of the passive voice, detaches the speaker from an emotive response to this being ‘barred’; it is a reported dream that will not consciously acknowledge the speaker’s feelings about being exiled from manderley at this time. (we instead infer these feelings through how the chapter develops.)

‘there was a padlock and chain upon the gate,’ as a short sentence, falls into the same matter-of-fact register as that which i alluded to above, partly through the use of the passive voice, and - as i explained earlier - varies the length of sentences such that the paragraph retains a particular buoyancy. 

the development from the speaker calling to the lodge-keeper to not getting an answer to seeing that the lodge is uninhabited tells a story wherein the speaker at first has authority such that a lodge-keeper would respond to her and let her in; this authority is negated by the lack of response; the lodge-keeper is found to be absent in a development that took place whilst she was herself away, presumably in the state of exile that we have inferred her to be in. ‘uninhabited’ is the kind of word you would expect to be used for an area of land, often with a colonial connotation; this introduces a theme that this chapter (& the book as a whole) goes on to develop, of manderley being a site of colonial decay; as reinforced by the ‘rusted spokes.’

in my experience, close reading is a technique best practiced on poetry, but it’s a very helpful skill to develop in general, and implementing it with prose can elucidate the nuances of a text far more clearly than you might initially realise. in a well-written novel, language is very deliberate and precise!

i think the best thing you can do to develop your skills as a critical reader is to read carefully, and to keep track of your responses to a text as best as possible. keeping a note of what you think a text achieves and how you respond to it each time you read one can be a good way of sorting your thoughts into something coherent and developing your ability to articulate a response. anyway, hopefully this has provided something resembling a guide for how to develop the thought processes that go behind critical practice!

[xmarchwarden-of-lothlorienx]

Bad Moon Rising

Boromir x male!reader

Requested: Anonymous

Summary:

heyyy so idk if you still take requests for LOTR but if you do i have one! its been rlly difficult to find male readers and as a trans guy i cant stand to read the fem readers so i decided to specifically request one instead. I was wondering if you could do headcanons or a short story about the fellowship having the male reader who is secretly a werewolf in their company. I think maybe he transforms during a fight or smth and it freaks people out a bit. Platonic relationships are good except for maybe theres some slight crushing with Boromir. Thanks so much!

Author’s Note: Sorry to keep you waiting. I really enjoyed writing this, so I hope you see this! I have been in my Boromir and Faramir era, so I am loving finally writing for them

There were few skin-changers left. There were fewer still that continued to shift forms - lest others became aware of their ability. Decades upon decades of being hunted for the entertainment of orcs caused your people to live in fear.

You kept your identity as one of the wolf-changing folk under wraps, choosing to walk under the sun and posing as the race of man. Only a few non-skin-changer individuals had learned of your secret, yet none of them were within your present company.

A rather odd company, or fellowship as Elrond had termed it, it was. A wizard, an elf, a dwarf, four halflings, two men, and a skin-changer (or was it simply three men? After all, everyone believed you to be a man, but you weren't really. Were you? This would be added to the list of things to mull over while trying, and failing, to get a fitful nights sleep).

Despite your secret and the initial distance you tried to keep with the others at first, you found yourself easily brought into the fold. Trying to quietly hold in your laughter with Aragorn as Legolas and Gimli started bickering for what must have been the hundredth time. Helping Sam collect firewood and wild berries to make dinner. Eagerly listening to Gandalf's accounts of his previous adventures, and sharing quite a few of your own high spirited ones that he delighted in. Discovering your and Frodo's similar taste for literature, resulting in many discussions on the hobbit's favorite books - your way of lightening his mood while undertaking such a heavy burden.

Of course, your favorite moments were often with Merry and Pippin. Boromir undertook the task of training them for combat, something he roped you into. You feigned hesitance, but really you did not mind doing something to make the Captain of Gondor happy. It was only an added benefit that the hobbits seemed delighted for you to join them.

Admittedly, you had grown rather fond of Boromir. Something fleeting you would surely get over once the fellowship was over. The experienced and generational fear and trauma of being hunted made you hesitant to open up to anyone about being a skin-changer. Boromir, along with the other members of the fellowship, seemed kind, yet would they understand why you kept such a major part of yourself secret? You cherished the connections that were taking root, but as the weeks wore on confiding in them seemed to grow ever more impossible than if you told them from the beginning of the fellowship.

--

"humph," you let out a small grunt as you stumbled over Merry and Pippin. Once again, you were too busy warring with your thoughts to notice the group had been called to a halt. "Forgive me, my mind was elsewhere, I did not mean to run over you two," you apologized, hoping the hobbits wouldn't be upset thinking you had overlooked them.

"Oh, it's quite alright," Pippin answered and shot a look towards Merry.

"Yes, we'll get you back when you practice sparring with us," Merry teased.

"Ah, I see, you two aren't going to take it easy on a poor son of man like myself? Tsk tsk I shall be too ashamed to show my face in society ever again," you started to break into a laugh at the end of this sentence, which was only made worse when the pair adopted stiff postures and what they called 'elegant, knightly airs'. As your laughter drew to a close, a warmth brushed against your shoulder.

"I take it then we are ready to begin tonight's training, little ones?" Boromir smiled at the two, but not without taking a moment to shift his glance towards you.

"We were born ready!" Pippin asserted and darted off to lead the way to a clear area next to the night's campsite.

"Pip, wait for me," Merry called after him.

"I admire how cheerful they've managed to stay," You reflected aloud while Boromir chuckled at their antics.

"Agreed, perhaps they should be the ones teaching us instead," Boromir mused whilst the two of you walked over to join the hobbits.

You hummed in response, reaching the hobbits and drawing your swords. Merry entered one of the opening stances Boromir had shown him and engaged in a round of sparring with you.

"Very good, Merry, remember to keep your weight centered. You never want to let your opponent find you unbalanced," You instructed as the sparring continued. You had to admit, he (and Pippin) improved very quickly under your and Boromir's tutelage. They had learned to use their small size and speed to their advantage - something causing you to focus more on Merry's swift parries and thrusts. One misstep, and you found the hobbit sweeping your feet out from underneath you.

"It seems I should have heeded my own advice," you laughed. Merry offered his hand to help pull you up, more of a gesture than a reality, yet you still took it as you regained your feet. "Very well done," you ruffled his hair, a satisfied grin growing on his face.

"Are we ready to go again?" he asked eagerly. Glancing towards Boromir, who was still sparring with Pippin, you returned your gaze to Merry and nodded. The second round had only just begun when the voice of Legolas shouting something in elvish made everyone in the encampment pause.

"Orcs!" Aragorn shouted in the common tongue. Quickly, you and Boromir closed ranks to better protect Merry and Pippin. In a fraction of a second, the previously peaceful hillside was suddenly swarming with orcs. No matter how many you cut down, more continued to flood around you. It wasn't until you were faced with a particularly large and foul smelling orc that you realized you were cut off from Boromir and the two hobbits.

At first, you were fine holding your own against the orc - until others started to draw nearer. The orc was not so skillful with a sword, but was able to utilize his brute strength to disarm you. The force from his disarming blow sent a shock of pain through your arm and to your shoulder. A quick look at your surroundings, and you were surrounded. Several yards away, you could see the orcs were closing in on Boromir, Merry, and Pippin as well.

You could hear your heartbeat pounding in your head as the world seemed to slow down. Your eyes fluttered closed and a chill ran up your spine. You would do what you must.

Skin-changing wasn't painful, but it wasn't comfortable either. It felt like a rather intense itch as your bones reformed a fur sprouted from your skin. Time and events felt different as a wolf - as though they were slightly fuzzy and happening very fast. It was almost an out-of-body experience: you could hear yourself growling and snapping at the orcs that left a foul taste in your mouth. You could see yourself, pouncing on them and clearing a way to your companions. You could feel the intense itching return as the last of the orcs were slain, your bones shifting and the fur retreating.

You quickly grabbed your cloak from where it had fallen to the ground and wrapped it around yourself. Shooting a look around to ensure no one was watching you at that moment, you picked up your pack and slipped into a change of clothing before rejoining the group.

Upon your re-entrance, you could feel many pairs of eyes burning into you. You joined them in putting things back in order after the skirmish, but it seemed no one dared to speak. By the time you and the others were finished, the sun had set and dinner was ready but you had no appetite.

You took a seat a couple yards away from the rest of the group, facing away from them as they ate and engaged in sparse, whispered conversations.

"Care if I join you?" You looked up and gave a weary smile to the speaker, Boromir. He was holding two bowls of the stew Sam must have managed to pull together.

"Sure," you sighed. "You may be the only one here that cares to keep my company now." He lowered himself to the ground beside you and offered you one of the bowls, which you hesitantly accepted.

"I'd rather you not say such things. Everyone is merely... surprised is all," Boromir reassured.

"Thank you, but I'm sure seeing one of their companions go through a skin-change may have been too horrifying, even for those such as Gandalf." A silence pervaded after you made this statement. The lack of a response brought tears to your eyes - it must have been true then...

"I cannot speak for the others," Boromir finally broke the silence. "I found your transformation, or skin-change, to be-" he paused, searching for the right word. "-beautiful."

"I - what? Really?" Of all things you had been expecting, it wasn't this.

"Yes. I have only ever heard of you, your kind, in stories from legend. I never thought I should see a skin-changer in my lifetime, but I have now, and I have never seen a more stunning sight." This brought a flush of heat to your face

"If I knew, I would have shared this part of me with you, all of you, sooner. I hope you may understand, but I was afraid." Boromir shifted his own bowl of stew to one hand, freeing his arm to wrap it around you. Feeling his warmth and the soft strength he seemed to always carry brought a wave of comfort.

"Well, you shall have nothing to fear, so long as I stand by your side."

[briar-rolfes-research-oubliette]

your writing is phenomenal. i write a little bit, but i think one of the biggest struggles i have is with pacing and structuring for anything longer than a couple thousand words. gonna hit you with a ton of questions, no pressure to answer all of them: how do you structure your longer-form writing? what considerations do you keep in mind as you do? are you more of a pantser or do you start with a solid outline and story beats first? what is your 'process' - and how do you approach editing as well?

Okay, I’m ready! Took me a bit.

Thank you, first of all! This is humbling, since in industry terms I’m a debut author. (Or not even. My book isn’t even out yet. It takes ages to make a graphic novel if you have to hold down a day job at true same time. Fingers crossed 2026?) And, since structure has been the hardest thing for me to learn, it’s rewarding to know that it’s paying off!

I’m in the middle of a few planning-stage projects right now, so I’ve been asking these questions myself. Because each story is different (in length, in genre, in terms of what I want it to achieve, and also, because I’m a cartoonist as well as a writer, also in format!) I have to reinvent at least part of the wheel with each project. I’ve learned some constants, though. I’ll try to outline some of them, and rather than just tell you what I do I’ll try to explain what purpose it serves when I do it.

I do think starting small and working up is the right way of learning, because that’s what worked for me, a chronic not-finisher. I sat down and said “okay, what is the shortest thing I can make that I am guaranteed to finish?” and once I had finished that, said “okay, what’s the next longest thing?” and worked my way up. It’s easier to structure a zine than a graphic novel, it’s easier to structure a short story than something with multiple chapters, etc etc… but this isn’t because a longer story has more structure in it so much as that each structural element has to work harder.

HOWEVER, I don’t look at structure until I know what I’m building my structure on. This was the missing piece in my structure learning! So, the things I have in mind when I’m starting a new project are:

What is my genre?

What are my themes?

What is my tone?

Genre is where I get the payoff that I’m working towards. Why do people pick up this kind of story? What’s the most basic appeal of it? I try to keep this as simple as I can, eg:

In romance, the couple have to get together by the end.

In sci-fi, a new discovery poses a new question, which is then resolved

In mystery, the detective has to figure out who committed the crime so that they don’t do it again.

In erotica, the protagonist is liberated from a social norm by a new sexual encounter

In horror, an outside force threatens irrevocable change to everyone who encounters it.

This narrative payoff is (in my opinion) the bumpers on the bowling lane of fiction. If you read a romance where they never got together, an erotica where nobody fucked, a detective story where justice wasn’t done, a horror story where it was no biggie and everyone just walked it off… you’d feel ripped off, right? You’ll see that I’m not saying “in horror there is always a jumpscare” or “in a mystery there is always a red herring,” because I never actually notice if those were missing. Many stories are worse because the author has said to themself “a story like this always has this element.” RIP to all those minor characters who die in fantasy novels during the fight scene at the end of the second act just because Boromir did.

Sticking the landing on that genre promise is what makes a story “feel” complete, and the success of the buildup to that promise is what makes a story feel satisfying in that worth-a-reread way. The overall genre payoff helps me keep my eye on the prize as I’m writing. If I get writer’s block, 99% of the time it’s because I’ve written something that conflicts with it. That’s helpful to keep in mind for editing (awkward scenes/characters/sentences etc are usually also conflicting with the payoff, or at least not helping me get there) and is also helpful to know when I’m doing back of mind narrative debugging while zoning out over the dishes. If I have a character and I want them to end up at that final point in a way that feels natural, what do I have to do to them to make it happen? If they feel stagnant, what beliefs do they have to have at the start that will jar against that end point?

(I believe the Literary phrase for the narrative payoff is the climax, or the catharsis. Catharsis is usually the concept used for horror or for tragedies. But I’m a cartoonist, so it’s easier for me to think of everything as setup for the final payoff of the punchline.)

Also—and this is more my individual philosophy rather than actual advice, but: delivering the payoff matters because it develops my readers’ trust. I’m not owed anyone’s time or attention. In a big world full of competing demands, it’s important to me that my readers know that I appreciate them choosing my work over putting the recycling bin out. And the great thing about reader trust is: it stacks. Trust means a reader is willing to go a bit further out of their comfort zone with me. When someone says “I don’t usually read stories like this, but I gave this a shot because you wrote it,” that’s what I’m talking about. I’m a trans writer who tells silly jokes and tackles weird topics, so I really do appreciate the readers who invest time and attention in me. They’re my 30 sickos, you know, from the tweet?

Anyway. If genre tells me where I’m landing the plane, theme tells me what the jet fuel is. The reason a particular concept is making me insane, aka, my motivation to tell the story at all, is my theme. It’s the question I’m trying to answer. It doesn’t have to be pithy or well articulated—I just have to know the general gist of it. It might just be “it pisses me off when authors do X, so I am going to prove it’s not actually hard to write Y.” What matters is that it’s something I won’t become bored of. My graphic novel, which has been the longest and most involved project of my life, hasn’t bored me once. That’s pretty spectacular seeing as I have ADHD out my ears! I’ve been frustrated, tired, had bad wrists and general creative ennui at points, but “can you have a happy ending if your family doesn’t accept you?” Is a question that hasn’t run out of juice, even though I’ve been answering it for six years now. The theme is often the most powerful if it’s something you don’t know the answer to. When we were talking about whether or not to tackle the marriage equality debate in Australia in my book, my agent told me “you’ll know it’s a good story if writing about it feels like pressing on a bruise.” I think this is what keeps your themes honest. It stops them being preachy and stops them from becoming The Moral Of The Story.

Terry Pratchett said that the first draft is him telling the story to himself, and the subsequent drafts are him figuring out how to tell it to other people. That’s been very helpful to me. Each successive edit will make the themes clearer until I can say “oh, so this is what the story is about.” What I said before about longer stories doing more with each structural element is because of this. Longer stories tend to accrue more themes, usually one per subplot and/or per character relationship. Shorter stories usually address just one. Themes are handy to think about here because if a story looks like it might get too bloated (“no way I can explore this AND this AND this and still stay under 20k words”) you can cut em out and address them somewhere else.

The themes in your fiction are the bit that makes it uniquely yours, like fingerprints in a clay pot. They stop the structure feeling formulaic and make it feel personal. A thousand authors could (and do) write the same premise over and over again, but in their hands each story means something different. If you’ve ever read a story that rings hollow even though it hits all the same notes as other stories you like, I’d say that it’s by an author who hasn’t figured out what interests them in the story they’re telling. Like… there’s a reason Twilight was successful and its many copycats were not. It’s because Meyer had this theme of insane repressed Mormon horniness running through her work, and everyone else just said “ah, so readers like boys who are barely restraining their murder instinct.” No! The murder instinct was juicy because it was thematically complex.

Genre and theme give me an idea of what the tone is, aka what mood I am building. I guess if genre is my destination and theme is my fuel, then tone is my plane. It’s about how the journey feels. Taking a first class flight from A to B is different from taking the same trip in a crop duster. The people on each plane will observe different things throughout the journey. The same events could happen on both flights, but a reader will feel way more anxious about the crop duster encountering turbulence.

Outside my increasingly elaborate metaphor, this is questions like… Is this setting fun and friendly? Are the characters mistrustful of each other? Is the world fundamentally evil? Can anyone die? Am I using colloquial language? Are swears allowed? How hard should the protagonist’s failures hit them, and how sharp should the consequences for their actions be? Is it realistic, or a bit surreal? Is my narrator (or narrative perspective if I’m in second or third person) sincere? Cynical? Trustworthy? Biased? Can they crack jokes?

Once I have an idea of these things, structure usually slots in pretty easily. As I’m in the thinking stage, if I have an idea for a scene (or a joke, more often than not) that I want to include, I’ll put it in a dot point list. Later on, I will look at these dot points and the structure and say “what goes where?” or “what needs to happen before this thing I want to include to make it make sense?”

Short things I use a three act structure, aka Beginning Middle End, where “middle” is whatever events need to happen to shift my character from their opening position to their concluding one. For longer things, I just whack on a seven act structure for whatever genre I’m working in. I often come back to Jami Gold’s romance structure because I write romances a lot, but also because it’s the only structure I’ve ever really seen that maps internal character arcs along with external events—one of the things I found absolutely the hardest to get my head around when I was structuring my graphic novel. If it’s a genre I know less about, I’ll find a structure that specifies examples for the pinch points, because those are ones I usually have trouble brainstorming. The mystery outline I used for my Disco Elysium fanfiction gave me the suggestions that a suspect should escape, which got me out of a huge block.

So: before I write, I’ve thought very hard about genre and tone and theme, and how my characters need to get from their starting positions to one where if bondage doesn’t happen the story will feel narratively incomplete. I’ve pondered my place in the world, I have developed beef with a handful of authors who I’ve decided have Done It Wrong, and I have image searched “mystery structure seven act”. I have probably gone on four or five research sprees where I learn a bunch about medieval demonology and insect genitalia and radio antennae or whatever.

(I should say a lot of that is just what do for fun anyway. I do think writers tend to forget that we do this because it’s fun. If you’re not having fun doing this stuff, then your reader is probably not having fun either. It’s important to figure out what is fun to you and to find a way to make your process mostly the fun stuff.)

Materially, what I have is a maybe a couple of test scenes I’ve written while working out character dynamics and refining my idea of tone, and a list of dot points that reads like:

Wrap up the subplot with that other guy

Heart to heart

Protagonist gets a boner

Exposition about early printing press

Fight scene (to show they care about each other)

Phone call from side character 12

MIDPOINT: Guy goes missing (or is killed with weapon from earlier? Suspected killed, but actually just escaped?)

JOKE

Bring back printing press thing

Bondage obviously

Catch the bad guy

Resolution (come back to this).

The trap for structure for me for YEARS has been assuming that I should be able to sit down and write out the perfect plan. “I’ll be able to write well so long as I know exactly what I’m doing every step of the way.” But… most of the fun of writing for me is figuring out how to address those missing plot elements as I go. I don’t think I’ve ever said this, but I never intended for my Disco Elysium fanfic to end with an explosion. I figured it out once I wrote the interview scene with Felicity, and then I said “okay, so that’s the resolution. Now, what do I need to do to blow this building up?“

The groundwork I’ve laid is helpful because I know what I can’t compromise on. As I’m heading towards my payoff and hitting these beats along the way, I have the wriggle room for flashes of discovery where I go “wait, fuck, you know what’d be cool as?”

Editing is where I get to make sure that everything lines up without contradictions. I’m very irresponsible; I don’t have the patience to wait until the story is finished before I start editing it, so I often go back and make tweaks on a sentence level. This is often how I get myself out of writer’s block. “What did I say back here, and why does it make me feel like I can’t get to the next point on my structure?”

I also tend to write on my phone in notes app documents or in Scrivener, so I can actually make use of the dead times in my day. I pick up my phone all the time to keep my hands busy, but I rarely sit down at a computer without something more important coming up. Only once the document gets long enough to be unwieldy, or once it’s actually finished, will I sit down with the text on a bigger screen. This really helps me stop myself getting overwhelmed by the idea of The Blank Page, too. I can’t see how much I’ve written or look at much text at a time when I’m writing on my phone.

Other favourite structural things, which I add on in successive edits:

Bookending! For when you have a scene displaying the relationship between your protagonist and a secondary character at the start, then bring ‘em back together at the end to show how things have changed. My graphic novel has something like two… wait no now I’m counting it’s more like four bookend scenes, whoops. I guess I really like these! They’re good for when someone reads your draft and says “I don’t know why this character showed up, they didn’t seem that important.” If the character really IS important, they need to come back. This is handy for me specifically because I love big world with lots of secondary characters.

Callbacks: jokes strike again! But you can use this to achieve other moods. In my Silent Hill fic the words “Empty, bleeding, and different in every way” get used first to describe the town, and then again at the end to describe the protagonist. It’s unsettling both times, but the second time I feel as though it is a little bit reassuring, too. Maybe sometimes it’s good to be reinvented.

Foreshadowing: Lay the breadcrumbs! Make that one character stare at the table in the scene where everyone is speculating on the identity of the traitor, draw our attention to the ceramic statue on the mantelpiece. I love to use the rule of three for this, often describing the significant thing last—or to describe two significant things and diffuse any audience suspicion with a joke as the third thing 😈🙏

Well, this has been a very long post! I wonder what my rules for writing are. UM. I know I have them. I’m nothing if not wildly opinionated!

1. Don’t hang out with writers who think that they’re better than their readers. Storytelling is about sharing humanity, not transcending it. Writing is not a divine gift. There is no muse! Not only hang out with people who do not write, but hang out with people who do not read. It keeps you humble.

2. Don’t break format just for the helluvit, but—if you have an idea about how to pull something off and say, scandalised, “oh my god, but is that allowed?” you have to do it.

3. If you’re having fun, your reader is having fun. If you’re bored, your reader is EXTRA bored. So… don’t write the boring bits. If you don’t know what to say in the scene where the character gets the bus between two locations, just cut it and start the next scene with “When she got off the bus.” Christopher Paolini is an example of someone who has never learned this. On one hand he has a lot more money than I do, but on the other hand, I’ve had a lot more gay sex.

4. Hot take: bad books are just as educational as good ones. I love a formulaic or poorly told story because they give me a chance to engage my structure brain. I like to figure out what went wrong and how. It’s never cinema sins bullshit like “WOW! GAPING PLOT HOLE!!!” but more like “weird, the tone of the climax is jarring compared to the rest of the story” or “well that’s the obligatory breakup at the end of the second act, but why did it happen?” I’ve also learned a whole lot about how to write sex scenes by reading ones that made me say “well, certainly not like that.”

5. Learn to recognise ways you make your own writing noncommittal. “He felt,” “she realised,” “they discovered,” “she thought.” Almost, very, really, nearly. These are all things I do way too much. Don’t say he felt it was, say it was.

☀️🌱☀️

Lastly: If you’re hitting a brick wall, if you’re blocked, if writing isn’t fun… stop.

Read something outside your genre. Dig up weeds in the garden. Watch a friend play a game that is too scary for you. Put a weird doll in the corner of your bathroom, go look through second hand shops for cheap treasures, get an outlandish food on your grocery run. Have a nice chat with a guy who is eighty something, make faces at a baby when mum isn’t looking. Learn to tie a useful knot. Badly paint some furniture. Sit out under the stars with a cuppa, listen to the night sounds, enjoy the feeling of being small. What I’m saying is, you should actively distract yourself with the interesting parts of Being Alive. Whatever feels like a waste of time is worth your time. Internet does NOT count! Do not watch a video, do not read a post! Do things that engage your senses. Do things where you use your hands. Make yourself laugh! Be clumsy, be silly, be messy on purpose. Writing is never more important than being alive, and your brain is never more important than your body. You need to fall in love with being alive. You need to be in the world. One day the gears will click into place and you’ll need to start writing again, furiously, like there’s a fire lit inside of you—but you can’t rush it. You need to take the time to be an animal, and animals play.

Here is a photo of Flea, who is a sixteen year old cat. She has no teeth. Here she is having a great time rolling around in the sun.

Sometimes my zine friends and I joke about things that are zines. Can my tomato plants be a zine? Poets joke about what is a poem. Is my cat rolling on the lawn a poem? Well, in that line of thinking… being an animal isn’t not a kind of writing. You’re making a mark on the world either way.

[problemswithbooks]

BNHA Ch. 429

So, I guess Toga is dead, and people are losing it.

I get why people liked her--she was actually queer, being pan/bisexual. She was representation for them and that's rare in shonen manga. But here's the thing--she was bad representation at best and insulting at worst. Nor do I think she was made queer because Hori really wanted to represent a queer girl. Himiko was always the author's poorly hidden fetish--she just was. She liked girls as much as boys because Hori wanted to draw a girl touching sexually on another girl. You can see this in how he draws her and Ochako in solo pics together.

I mean, people seem to understand this when it comes to Momo and her outfit being overly sexual or that both Himiko and Hagakure's Quirks either leave them naked or they have to be naked to use them. These are excuses to draw girls in a sexual manner. Himiko being into other girls is the same thing and that's the kindest interpretation.

Given how Himiko acts and her Quirk being heavily coded sexual desire, and therefore her use of it against someone unwilling being sexual assault, it could just being playing into harmful stereotypes of predatory gays.

As a queer person myself I just found Toga insulting. She was designed to be overly sexual and give the male author a female character that he could draw being suggestive with his other female characters. When he did flesh out her character, her backstory was eventually the trope/fear of straight people, that gay people will be so overcome with their lust that they end up sexually assaulting them.

In the end Ochako accepts this part of Toga and says she'll giver her blood forever, but as much as a lot of readers took that that as some deep lesbian confession, for me it really fell flat. Hori never really gave any of the main kids time to actually learn about their villain or show how that changed their minds toward them. Shoto only works because Touya is his brother (even though he admits he barely remembers him). But Ochako goes from not thinking of Toga at all pre-first war, to one thought about her during her speech, to suddenly caring about her so much she--given how Toga's quirk is coded, is willing to essentially fulfill Toga's kink for the rest of their lives.

It's weird and it comes out of nowhere. It's made even stranger because Toga doesn't actually change or show remorse for anything she did, which included personally hunting and murdering people before she joined the LOV. None of the death and destruction she is also partially responsible for is brought up either, something that Ochako was rightfully upset about during the first war when less people and property had been destroyed. Ochako just accepts everything about her suddenly and her past serious crimes are forgotten so they can cuddle and cry.

Am I shocked Toga died--a little. I didn't think Hori would have the guts to kill off a young girl character, especially one that he clearly got a lot of joy drawing in sexy poses. But at the same time, once he killed off Shigaraki and ended Touya's story with his slow death, I'm not surprised he went the same route with Toga.

This isn't Naruto--Hori isn't really kind to characters that do something wrong, especially if they don't try and change. Enji, Bakugo, Hawks, and Aoyama all sort of got punished for what they did. Enji is the worst off, being permanently crippled, missing an arm and burned everywhere. Bakugo's hand is damaged, his heart weaker, plus he feels bad that Izuku lost his Quirk so they can't compete the same way he wanted them to. Aoyama, despite doing way less wrong and even helping his class during the forest raid, still leaves school because he doesn't feel he earned being there yet. Hawks lost his Quirk and even though him running the HPSC could be seen as good for him, Hawks always wanted a break, but now he has one of the most time consuming and stressful jobs out there.

So, if this is what characters who actively did good things and even changed and fought to be better get, what would characters who never changed and never did anything positive for anyone but their friends/themselves get?

Before the last Arc started, when so many people said the LoV were 100% going to be redeemed I had doubts and always thought it wouldn't make sense with how the story presented redemption or treated other non-LoV villains in the past. That if the main LoV did get some happy ending where they were bffs with the main cast it would clash with how other characters had been treated.

That doesn't mean that I think how Shigaraki, Toga, and Touya ended up in the manga was well done. I think their endings fit far better then a last minute redemption would have, but at the same time you can feel how rushed everything has been since the end of the first war arc. Hori was done with this story months if not years ago, yet he was contractually obligated to finish it. Because of that I think he left out as much as possible. As much as I think he's written some pretty obsessive stuff, particularly towards women, I can't really fully blame him cutting corners or the story being shit at the end.

We know Manga authors, particularly those that work with Jump are treated like shit. That they suffer incredibly long hours at times not even getting to go home for days. We've gotten messages for Hori saying he's sick quite a few times. On top of that, weekly story telling is not a great way to tell a cohesive narrative. Ideas probably change week to week or at least month to month and you can't go back and change the last chapter no matter how much you need or want to. Then you remember he also gave a lot of ideas to the people who made the movies, which would also change his plans for how he wanted the main story to go.

The story is bad--it has been for a while, but I think a lot of people put their hopes on their favorite characters getting a happy ending, even when there were signs that probably wasn't going to be the case. I know how much it sucks when a character you love gets a shitty ending (Stain was my fav, but he got an absolute dogshit ending) but at least, knowing what I know about the industry I can't really blame Hori the way I see some other people doing. Criticize it, sure, but saying Hori hates his readers or is horrible writer isn't true. BNHA was popular for a reason--he's great with characters and the beginning of the story had some great pacing. We'll never know, but I wouldn't be surprised if BNHA could have been amazing if Hori had been treated better and the story hadn't needed a chapter every week.

If anything BNHA has taught me how much a story suffers when authors/artists are treated like crap and forced to work past burnout.

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds: Chapter Thirteen

Din Djarin x F!Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Summary: The happiness you feel in response to a question Din posed to you is somewhat clouded by lingering doubts. Yet your affection for each other helps you to push those emotions down, until a weekend spent at his cottage changes everything...

Word Count: 13.1k ❁ Rating: Mature ❁ Content Warnings: 18+MDNI for smut (oral sex, M and F receiving), mild child sickness, angst... lots of angst... ❁ Author's Note: Thank you @decembermidnight for being my beta! This was a monster chapter so I really appreciate it. Cannot believe it had been almost a month since my last update for this fic!! I am really keen to get this one finished soon but I could also see myself writing another 100k so... we'll see how it goes haha. Sorry in advance, it hurt to write... but I do hope you enjoyed it...

13. The Storm [Reader's POV]

Being away from Din was agonising. It felt as though every second you were not in his presence only widened the chasm in your chest which had opened the minute you parted from him. 

Still, you had the comfort of basking in his memory and the warmth that spread across your skin whenever you thought of him.

Every time he crossed your mind or you saw something that reminded you of him, you were unable to prevent a grin from spreading across your features. Knowing that he was all yours, that you had taken the step of actually calling him your boyfriend made you feel positively giddy.

Each memory you had with Din was precious, something to be treasured.

Well, almost all. 

There was one irritating little moment which did not provoke a pleasant reaction. A moment that kept replaying over and over in your mind. The doubt and insecurity it provoked kept gnawing away in the pit of your stomach. Try as you might, you were unable to banish it from your thoughts. 

That one particular moment seemed to play on an endless loop in your mind in the days following your excursion to the park. 

No matter how much you tried to banish it from your thoughts, you could not stop thinking about the way Din had shifted all of his weight onto one leg, folded his arms and sighed when you had suggested hiring the rowboat. For some reason, that particular mannerism triggered something in your brain. A reminder of sorts; a flicker of recognition, a memory of a man that you had never even met.

It was like the strangest sense of de ja vu, except you had never crossed paths with the man who Din bore a striking resemblance to at that precise moment… because he wasn’t real. 

Nevertheless, for one brief moment as you stood begging Din to acquiesce and hire a boat with you, the way he moved was so scarily like Mando that you had almost opened your mouth to question it. 

However, as you thought about it over the next few days, you were relieved you hadn’t made a fool out of yourself and questioned him. You would have looked beyond ridiculous.

There was simply no way that your Din could be The Mandalorian. 

You were certain that it was just your overactive imagination playing a trick on you, especially since Mando had been on your mind recently. 

When Din had called to apologetically inform you that he would be unable to join you on that Friday night, you had not hesitated to dive back underneath the comfort blanket that was your favourite show.

You had slipped back into your old ways and used the show you once watched religiously to soothe your soul during a time of crisis. Watching The Mandalorian in your luxurious hotel room on an enormous television that made you feel like you were at the cinema had calmed your anguished heart after Din had informed you of his delayed arrival.

It had also clearly brought Mando back to the forefront of your mind in a way that the character had not been for several weeks. 

Until then, any spare time was devoted to seeing Din, rather than watching the same episodes you had seen countless times. Mando had slipped down in your list of priorities. Still, it was the first thing you turned to during a time of crisis. 

Since you had started dating Din, you had found yourself so busy that your frequent watch throughs of Mando had dwindled in frequency. You had a lot less time to yourself, after work you were usually either physically with Din or texting him. Somehow, the thought of watching your fictional crush when you were speaking to your very real boyfriend, even via text, seemed strange.

You had always believed that you would never find anyone in real life who could come close to holding your affection in the same way that Mando did. You knew now, of course, that you were dead wrong about that. 

Din was everything you had ever been searching for. Since the moment you had first crossed paths at the museum, you had felt an immediate connection and spark which had only intensified over the months that you had known him. With Din, you were unafraid to be yourself. You were so authentically yourself when you were around him. 

Din saw you entirely. And he loved you completely in return. In your relationship, there was nothing to run from, nothing to hide. Merely two people who loved each other very much and had felt every part of themselves touched by that affection and made all the better for it. 

Before Din, you had always been afraid of love, afraid of allowing someone to know you so deeply. With him, you had never felt fear. Never felt that he could hurt you or hide anything from you. Even though his particular line of employment kept him away from you and was evidently well-paid, and even though he lived suspiciously close to The Volume… There was no way the kind-hearted man who was such an attentive father and made you feel so safe whenever you were in his presence could be hiding such a thing from you. 

So, those feelings of certainty and security that you drew from your relationship with Din were precisely why you were able to dismiss the peculiar moment at the park which had caused such a strong sense of deja vu within you. You knew Din Djarin was a good man at heart, who would never willingly hurt you or hide things from you. 

Happily, despite the uncanny resemblance to Mando that Din had momentarily shown, your fledgling relationship was going from strength to strength. 

Din was doing everything to spend more time with you. He would meet you after work when his schedule permitted, even if it was just for a quick dinner before the two of you went your separate ways. 

Weekends were usually spent at Din’s cottage, unless he treated you and booked a hotel room for the two of you. The second suite was usually for Kuiil and Grogu now. Din, in his own way, was learning to open up more to you and let Grogu out of his sight for a few hours so he could enjoy your company. He had even discussed renting a flat in central London to give him and Grogu more of a base in the city that would make seeing you easier. It was a sign that the future was on Din’s mind. A future he seemingly wanted to share with you. 

You couldn’t help but notice that the increasing amount of free time Din had coincided with the rumours that had appeared online that The Mandalorian was wrapping up filming season three.

Still, you had no concrete proof that Din worked at The Volume. Despite how much your friends teased you, you refused to let your mind wander in that direction. You had settled on the fact that Din would tell you something if he could and that was that. Better to keep your life as a Mando-obsessed fangirl far separate from the woman who Din was dating. 

As you spent more and more time in each other’s company, there was a comforting familiarity that grew between the two of you when you spent time together. Things were becoming more natural. Dates for the two of you were rarely such an event anymore, it was more just spending time with each other whenever the stars aligned for you to sneak some precious time with each other.

Of course, your heart still fluttered when you thought about Din, texted him or were near to him. That certainly hadn’t changed. 

Spending time with him and having him take you on dates still felt exhilarating. Now with the added bonus that you were beginning to feel more comfortable and relaxed in his presence. Things felt so natural with Din. You did not fear letting him in to see all of you. That included telling the occasional jokes about Mando and trying to persuade him to watch your favourite show. 

In a way, even since your first meeting, you had always known that Din would accept you as you were. Your long, tangential rants at the museum during the tour had not put him off, nor had the time when you were honest with him about much preferring a low-key date rather than taking advantage of the reservation at the fancy restaurant he had made for you. Din accepted you as you were. 

Every time you were around him, you felt butterflies in your stomach and a warmth which spread in your chest at the knowledge that you had let him in completely, and he still loved you anyway. It was exhilarating.

Yes, Din Djarin was certainly getting to know you. All of you. 

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Those butterflies were certainly present once again tonight as the two of you took an after-dinner stroll through Notting Hill, where you had just enjoyed dinner together at a cosy Italian restaurant one of your colleagues had recommended. Your fingers were interlaced with Din’s and you could not resist stealing glances at him every few steps. 

Din had really made an effort for the occasion. He looked so handsome in his white button down shirt, dark blue blazer and matching pants to complete the outfit. You had barely been able to form words when you had first laid eyes upon him outside work earlier in the evening. Any words you had been trying to form had soon been kissed from your lips as Din brought you into a passionate embrace. 

When you saw Din, you were glad that you had stashed some clothes at your workplace for spontaneous date nights. Indeed, your work locker was playing host to an increasing number of outfits for your dates, much to the amusement of your colleagues. 

Tom in particular liked to point out when you were going on a date, causing your cheeks to burn each time. From the way he looked at you and teased you, you almost felt as though he had a crush on you. You wondered why he had never acted upon it before you had started dating Din, if that was indeed the case. 

Before you had met Din, it wasn’t exactly as though you were inundated with proposals. Perhaps it was knowing that you were desirable or the efforts you were making to dress nicely that had caused Tom’s mind to wander. Regardless, you didn’t give it too much thought. For you, it was always Din. Only Din.

As you and Din strolled through the upmarket area of London, with all of its distinctively coloured houses, you couldn’t help but feel the autumnal chill to the air that had not been there a few weeks previously. It made sense, seeing as September was drawing to a close.

But with Din’s large hand in yours and the heat which radiated within you whenever you were with him, you did not feel cold in the slightest. As you walked through a quiet residential area, in the vague direction of a tube station that would take you home, it could have been the depths of winter for all you cared. With Din by your side, you did not feel a single shiver traverse your body. 

Until, Din spoke, and his words sent a chill down your spine.

“I like this area. I could see myself living here,” Din said thoughtfully as the two of you paused on the street. 

There was a row of tall houses with small gardens out front, neat houses with beautiful brickwork and ornate windows. You swallowed thickly. Somewhere like this would be so far out of your price range. It was yet another devastating reminder of the different worlds you came from.

“Maybe it’s somewhere we could look for a flat?” Din questioned, softly smiling at you as he made the suggestion.

You stopped in your tracks and glanced around at him questioningly. It wasn’t the first time Din had brought up the idea of renting a flat in central London, but it was the first time he had used such inclusive language.

He could have been referring to himself and Grogu, of course, but you knew from the way he had said it and looked at you that you were the other he was referring to. You were stunned at his words. The sentiment that he wanted to share a life with you deeply moved you. You had hoped that Din was taking things as seriously as you were, but to hear him express a desire to live with you… you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy.

“We?” you questioned, looking up and smiling shyly.

“Well… much as I love the hotel with the spa and the room service, it would be nice to have a place just for us. Now my hours at work are going to be reduced, it makes more sense to move closer to you. I would like a flat, with two rooms, one for Grogu and one for,” Din leaned in and pressed the gentlest of kisses to your lips “…. us,” Din whispered against your lips, smiling at you in such a way you felt almost embarrassed by the love you saw in his eyes.

For a brief moment, you were not standing in the street with Din. You were transported through time, venturing inside one of the houses you were loitering in front of to a scene so vivid that you could almost reach out and grasp it with both hands. 

You could see lazy weekend mornings where the sun streamed in through the windows and turned everything it touched to gold. You’d wake up in your large bed, head on Din’s warm, firm chest as his arms encircled your waist, holding you tightly. You’d spend a few precious moments cuddling Din close while he slept after a pleasurable night the two of you had enjoyed. 

Sighing contentedly in the tranquillity until you heard the unmistakable pitter patter of small feet outside, belonging to the child who had featured so prominently in your love story so far. Grogu would run in and jump on the pair of you before the three of you headed into the kitchen to make breakfast.

You stood there, trying to figure out which house was the one from the vision. 

Any one of these beautiful buildings could be it, a well-furnished space that still felt intimate and cosy. That felt like a home that the three of you were carving out together. A light space filled with lots of love and laughter. It was so achingly realistic that you felt a chasm opening in your chest, causing tears to sting the corners of your eyes…

“Sorry, it’s too much, too soon…” Din said, brown eyes looking down at the ground.

He had taken your silence as you daydreamed about a future together as an indication that you weren’t interested, that you didn’t want it. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Never, Din,” you whispered, the hope that you saw in those soulful eyes as he glanced at you almost took your breath away. “I want to build a future with you,” you nodded, desperately blinking back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks.

Din merely smiled at you, caressing your chin with his fingers lightly before he leant in to kiss you softly. It was so tender, so sweet. A deliberate movement that showed you how much he appreciated your words and how deeply he felt them, too. 

“I’m so glad you said that,” Din admitted softly.

You stayed like that, staring at each other for a few more moments, each too emotional to truly put your feelings for each other into words. You felt something other than love settle in your stomach. A fire had been lit in your belly, a steely determination to see the vision you had come to fruition. No matter how long it took, it was the life you wanted for yourself. You were absolutely certain of that fact. 

Unfortunately, however, you could not stand in this moment forever. 

There was the life you had to lead now which took precedence. Plus the fact that the residents might find your continued loitering outside their houses unnerving. 

As you began walking down the street once more, you felt a sense of overwhelming serenity wash over you. There was no doubt in your mind that it would one day be the life you and Din shared.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

It was approaching midnight and the streets were mostly deserted. You had work the following morning and you knew Din had to get back to his cottage for Grogu. Still, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t at least try to get him to come home with you. 

“Wouldn’t you at least come back to my flat with me?” you asked, flashing your best puppy dog eyes at him to try to get him to change his mind.

“Nice try, Sunflower,” Din chuckled, shaking his head at you affectionately, “I really can’t.”

“Please?” you asked again, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “I have a nice, comfortable bed in the flat I rent all by myself.” 

You were probably being a bit desperate and pathetic and you knew it, but the way a frown suddenly flickered across Din’s features at the mention of your bed and flat caused a pang of insecurity to flood through you. 

Din had not been back to your flat since that night he had bolted once the two of you made it to your bedroom. You had never brought it up again, you knew for certain now – even if you had doubted it at the time – that Din was physically attracted to you. He had shown you that plenty of times. 

The pain of his rejection that had floored you back then was mostly a distant memory now. Still, the frown which had unmistakably crossed your face made you wonder why Din was so averse to coming back to your flat. Before you could ruminate any further on his reasoning, Din’s deep voice soothed you. 

“Don’t make this any harder,” Din murmured as he closed his eyes and sighed, “I have to get back for Grogu, I was away from him all day. If I wasn’t there when he woke up, it would unsettle him. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy myself knowing that. Plus, you have work tomorrow… let’s wait until the weekend. We’ll have all the time in the world then, Sunflower.”

“Okay, Din,” you conceded.

“Believe me, I want to… it’s just…” Din stopped and looked down, sighing deeply, “Hard, with all the responsibilities we have.”

“I know, Din,” you nodded, leaning into him and placing your head on his shoulder to reassure him, “I shouldn’t have asked when I know that you can’t. It wasn’t fair of me. I just really like spending time with you.”

“I know, darling,” Din murmured, dropping your hand to bring his arm around your shoulder, as your arm encircled his waist, “I wish we could just see each other whenever we wanted, but work is winding down for me now so I will have more free time. Then, we can begin looking for a place for both of us, and Grogu.”

“I can’t wait,” you smiled, burying your face into Din’s warm, broad chest. 

The scent of his cologne sent a pulse of desire coursing through your veins. It was unfair that he was here, looking so gorgeous and there was nothing you would be able to do to show him just how attracted to him you were. It certainly wasn’t for lack of desire, though.

The two of you stood there in a tight embrace for a few moments, before you stepped back and took Din’s hand again. It was getting late and you knew you needed to head for home, much as you didn’t want to leave him. 

The Tube station was just around the corner and before you knew it, you were standing before the distinctive illuminated red and blue sign, so ubiquitous with the London Underground network. 

With a lump in your throat, you realised that it was time to say goodbye to each other. Your heart ached, but you knew you would see Din again in only a couple more days.

“I’ll see you this weekend, then?” Din questioned, leaning down to drop a lazy kiss onto your lips as you stood outside the station.

“Yes, I can’t wait,” you replied.

“Text me when you’re home,” Din asked as he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. 

“I will, Din,” you nodded. Caring about the welfare of his loved ones was absolutely Din’s love language.

Din stole one last kiss from your lips before you turned to walk away into the Tube station. Not without a lingering look back at him, appreciating one more time how handsome he looked in his outfit. 

After passing through the ticket barrier and descending far beneath London and onto the platform, you finally allowed Din’s words from earlier to sink in. 

The fact that this incredible man who you loved so much, not only loved you in return but wanted to settle down and carve out a future for you was nothing short of electrifying. You thought back to the timid, awkward version of yourself who had first laid eyes upon him in the museum on that fateful day. You were so in awe of him, yet so certain that you would never catch his eye. 

Look at you now. 

It was almost unbelievable where you were now and how close the two of you had grown. You never would have believed someone like you could capture the heart of Din, that he would be your boyfriend. But he was. And he wanted to build a life with you.

Yet, as you got on the tube and began your journey home, your mind was once again racing with unanswered questions and lingering doubts. You felt bitter thinking about how Din could have been joining you. 

You knew it was because of Grogu, of course. Their bond was so strong and the way that Din cared for his adopted son was just one of the many reasons that you were infatuated with him.

Still, you could not quite shake the feeling that you were missing something. That perhaps you should not be so keen to put down roots with a man that you still felt you hardly knew. 

Then you thought of all the happy times with Din and all of those anxieties faded away, only to be replaced by new doubts when you thought of moments such as the one by the boathouse.

It was exhausting.

So, you reached for your earphones and went straight to the playlist of your favourite pieces from the Mandalorian’s soundtrack to quieten your racing thoughts. For a few moments as the train hurtled far beneath the quiet streets of London, you were somewhere far away, soaring through the stars with Mando.

A galaxy away from your anguish over Din…

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Those uncomfortable thoughts continued over the next few days until you could see Din again. The Mandalorian soundtrack could only stave them off for so long. The sheer contrasting emotions were difficult to stomach. The simultaneous sheer joy you felt at knowing Din wanted the two of you to live together and the lingering questions you had about him that remained unanswered.

Through it all, of course, Ria had been there for you, a shoulder to cry on and a friend to squeal with about Din when things were going well. Like today, as you pulled out your phone to text her on the way to Din’s cottage from the back of the car he had sent to collect you.

[mandoismine] 13:18 morning ria. hope you have a good weekend!!

[thisistheslay] 13:17 Thanks bestie! Not much planned for me, just recovering from work lmao. But what about you, when are you next seeing Din?

[mandoismine] 13:18 im on my way to his house now. he sent me a car to pick me up :)

[thisistheslay] 13:20 OOH!! A SUGAR DADDY!!

You looked out of the window and rolled your eyes, tutting at her antics.

[thisistheslay] 13:22 - I’m only joking. But I still think he’s Mando ;)

[mandoismine] 13:25 - i know haha dw. he isnt!! but i might ask him today if he works at the volume today… surely he could just TELL me that

[thisistheslay] 13:27 - DEWIT!! Hope he can tell you some secrets. Maybe he met Mando?!?!

[mandoismine] 13:30 - haha maybe. almost here now, ill text u later :)

[thisistheslay] 13:32 - Okiiiiii! Have fun with your mob boss boyfriend ;)

You couldn’t help but scoff at Ria’s antics once again. It was a running joke between the two of you that Din was either part of the mafia – hence the wealth he apparently had access to – or was The Mandalorian, given the fact he lived in Nevarro. 

You thought both scenarios were equally unlikely, despite how much some of your other internet friends had teased you about the possibility of your boyfriend being The Mandalorian.

Still, it was nice that you could joke about it with Ria. It somehow made the preposterousness of the situation feel far less intense and daunting. It calmed your pounding heart as you pulled up outside Din’s cottage. 

Once you headed up the familiar garden path, there was no more anxiety or tension. You were happy to soon be back in the arms of the man you loved. Which you were, barely having time to breathe for, as soon as Din opened the door, he pulled you straight into his arms.

Din often greeted you enthusiastically after spending some time apart. This time, however, was nothing short of desperation on his part as he pinned you against the door, securing his leg between your thighs as he thoroughly kissed you. His kisses were relentless as he searched your mouth with his tongue, desperate for his fill.

“Din,” you panted when he finally pulled away, “What about Grogu?”

“Grogu is out for the day with Kuiil,” Din rasped into your ear as he took your earlobe between his teeth, “It’s just the two of us, Sunflower.”

You did not dare to reply with words and waste a single second of the precious alone time you and Din had by talking. Instead, you dived back into his lips. Wasting no time in communicating with words what you could convey with your lips and tongue.

The two of you didn’t even make it upstairs to Din’s bedroom. He dragged you through the cottage, giggling breathlessly as he went before he sat down on the sofa and pulled you onto his lap. Din secured his strong arms around your waist, his hands splayed out across your back underneath your T-shirt, causing you to break out in goosebumps wherever his fingers roamed.

“So beautiful, missed you so much,” Din rasped, before your mouths collided once again. 

“Missed you too,” you replied when you finally parted.

You continued hungrily making out for a few more moments, before it became impossible to ignore Din’s aching hardness underneath your lap. You moaned as you ground down on him, desperate to feel him. Din bit his lip and groaned in response. The sight was so erotic that you were pretty certain you would climax if he simply allowed you to continue riding his muscular thigh. 

However, Din clearly had other plans. You barely had time to react, before Din switched positions and you were sitting on the couch. You certainly did not have a chance to speak. 

Especially since the sight before you was so erotic, that all breath was stolen from your lungs.

Din sank to his knees before you, looking up at you with darkened eyes as pulled your pants and underwear down. He trailed featherlight kisses back up your legs, paying particular attention to the inside of your thighs. You groaned, wordlessly begging with your actions for him to give you the release you were aching for as you arched your back towards his waiting mouth. To put his lips where you wanted them most.

“All for me?” Din questioned, raising a brow flirtatiously as he looked at your glistening core.

“Din, please,” you whined, desperate for his touch.

Fortunately, Din was equally as desperate as you. He dove in without further delay, moving his skilled tongue as your legs trembled in ecstasy. You were desperate for more of him, eager to have him worshipping you on his knees forever. You knew he would, if only you asked.

Din did not seem to care when your thighs clamped around his skull. In fact, it spurred him on to caress parts of you with his tongue which made you see stars. You moved your hands to his hair, tangling your fingers in his soft curls and encouraging his movements. 

When he finally added his thick fingers, you felt the burning in your belly transform into an inferno. Chanting the single syllable of his name as you reached ecstasy. 

Afterwards, you sat there for a few moments, unable to speak, barely able to breathe. Utterly blissed out from the pleasure he had brought you. Your legs twitched uncontrollably.

Finally, when you had composed yourself enough to raise your head from where it had slumped against the back of the sofa, you sat up to look at the man who had just driven you to such heights of pleasure.  

Din was still between your legs, leaning a stubbled cheek against the top of your thigh with a thoroughly satisfied smirk on his face. His warm brown eyes were full of love. You wished you could live in that moment forever. He looked so handsome, it was almost offensive to your lust-addled mind. You would have been content to spend the rest of your life in that moment.

That was until you looked down at Din’s dark grey jeans and noticed the sizable bulge that was visible. There was no way it could be comfortable. You were more than eager to offer Din some relief. It had been too long since you had the opportunity to wrap your lips around his impressive length.

“Allow me to return the favour,” you breathlessly offered, nodding towards Din’s crotch.

Din raised his head from your thigh instantly, the warmth of love and affection that had been evident in his eyes was replaced with something darker. He did not stop you as you stood from the couch on trembling legs and offered him a hand. 

Din took it and when he was at his full height, you wrapped your arms around his neck and clashed your lips together with his. The heat that had disappeared down to a gentle simmer as you basked in the afterglow of your orgasm had been replaced by something far more desperate, now. 

Din groaned into your lips, a sound which you heard once more when you attacked the buttons of his shirt. With the troublesome material out of the way, you placed your hand on his chest and pushed lightly until he flopped down on the couch.

Din sat there, transfixed by the sight of you with his mouth open in lust as he watched you sink to your knees between his legs. Eager to pay back the debt. 

There was no point in delaying the inevitable any further and teasing him. You both knew what you wanted.

Without hesitation, you removed his throbbing length from its confines, noticing in awe how flushed the skin was there. Your mouth watered at the sight of it. It had been far too long and nothing made you feel more powerful and attractive than rendering this mountain of a man into a trembling wreck as you took him in your mouth.

You took his head in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip a few times as Din groaned your name, unable to help himself from thrusting up into your mouth. He wanted more. And you were more than happy to give it to him. 

You opened your mouth and took him as far as you could, head enthusiastically bobbing up and down along his length. As always, you struggled to fit all of him in your mouth.

Still, you were determined and Din encouraged you with his fingers in your hair. When you made it far enough down, he choked your name out in ecstasy. You moved your head back with an obscene pop, catching your breath and looking up at him in adoration through your eyelashes. You were determined to provoke such a reaction in him again.

As your head bobbed up and down Din’s length with renewed urgency and determination, his moans and gasps picked up in pace and volume. You sensed he was getting close but you did not draw back, thoroughly enjoying rendering him so desperate and breathless with  your mouth.

Din came with a cry of your name, fingers on the back of your head as he gasped and panted through his orgasm. You made sure you collected every last drop of him, a sight which you could tell pleased him. He groaned as you withdrew. In response, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand as you glanced up at him, satisfied with your handiwork.

Much like you a few minutes previously, Din was unable to form words. He flopped back against the couch, muscular chest heaving as his eyes stayed closed in bliss. You took his large hands in yours and pressed kisses to each one of his calloused fingers and palms. Worshipping a part of him that you loved so much. 

When Din had finally regained his composure, his deep voice finally cut through the silence.

“I’m sorry, I wish I could have lasted longer,” Din apologetically murmured, “It had been too long.”

“It’s fine, Din,” you smiled, “We have plenty of time to make up for that later.”

Din nodded with a tired smirk and pulled you back onto his lap on the couch. You curled up into his neck as he grabbed the blanket which was slung over the arm of the sofa. He threw it over your bodies, a warm layer that you were pleased to be snuggled underneath. Especially since the sheen of sweat which had appeared across your bodies during the heated passion of earlier was now cooling and shivers traversed your body.

You felt your eyelids growing heavy. You put up a valiant effort to fight against sleep, but curling against Din’s side while he held you tightly was too tempting to resist…

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The sound of a toddler crying caused your eyelids to flutter open. To your surprise, you were lying down on the couch, a pillow underneath your head rather than Din’s shoulder. 

As you came to your senses and discovered how gravelly your mouth was thanks to sleep, you were momentarily disoriented, forgetting where you were. Then, with a shy smile ghosting across your lips, you remembered what you and Din had been up to before you nodded. You must have really needed the sleep, which made sense considering how exhausted you had been by a hectic week at work. 

You couldn’t dwell on your impromptu nap for too long. The sound of Grogu’s wails tugged on your heartstrings. You pushed yourself up from the couch, rubbing your groggy eyes as you padded towards the kitchen.

“Is everything okay?” you murmured as you stood at the doorway.

Din was standing in the kitchen, holding Grogu who was swaddled in a blanket to his chest. 

“Kuiil told me that Grogu was fussing and thinks he’s coming down with a cold,” Din sighed, his brown eyes weary, “I’m trying to give him some medicine, but he won’t take it.”

You nodded solemnly before approaching Din and Grogu, aching to see the little boy so distressed. 

“Are you feeling a little poorly, buddy?” you sympathetically asked Grogu, reaching out your hand to touch his forehead with the back of your hand. 

You winced as you felt that Grogu’s skin was hot to the touch. You cast your eyes towards Din, feeling awful at the way worry was etched across his features.

“Will you be good and let your dad give you some medicine?” you asked in the hope that Grogu would acquiesce, “I know it tastes yucky, but it will make you feel much better.”

Grogu looked at you with a frown, clearly not wanting to have the vile liquid pass through his lips. You stroked his cheek affectionately, pleading wordlessly with the look in your eyes. Grogu had still not said his first word, but you knew he understood the world on a deeper level than perhaps anyone else you knew. 

After a few moments, Grogu nodded slowly. You smiled at him appreciatively and grabbed the bottle from Din’s hand. Luckily, Grogu accepted the medication without much fuss.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

You frowned at the footsteps from the hallway outside which indicated that Din  had returned from Grogu’s room yet again. This time, you did not bother to turn over to question him on the boy’s condition. You did not want Din to think you were smothering him, so you laid there quietly and tried to fall asleep.

You had been hoping that taking the medicine would help Grogu to settle. Unfortunately, the little boy continued fussing for the entire evening. Din had anxiously chewed his lip throughout, refusing to allow Grogu out of his sight. 

The man would not bat an eyelid if there was something seriously wrong with him, but when it came to someone he loved, Din was frantic with worry. His protectiveness towards the people he loved was one of the things you loved most about your boyfriend. 

You had been hoping for Din’s sake, as much as Grogu’s, that his condition would improve. But that was not to be. Grogu had been listless in Din’s arms. You wished that there was something that you could do to help make the vibrant little boy well again. All you could do was stand by Din’s side as he sat on Grogu’s bed, cuddling his son and giving them some privacy when Din finally tucked him in.

Din’s anxious vigil over Grogu continued well into the night, even after Grogu had finally fallen asleep, as his latest excursion across the hallway indicated.

Despite setting up the baby monitor and cuddling up to you in bed, Din could not settle, no no matter how many times he checked the device.

Making up for before was definitely off the cards. It was one of those things you had to be prepared for and expect when dating an older man with a child. You knew that Din’s priority was Grogu, he had never attempted to hide that fact from you. 

So, when the sheets rustled and Din got out of bed yet again, you did not fuss or make him feel guilty for checking on his boy. You understood that he would not be able to rest until Grogu was well again.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

When you blinked awake early the next morning, the pale light of a new day streaming in through the windows, you did not feel the familiar soft snores which indicated Din Djarin was asleep by your side.

You were a little concerned when you rolled over to discover Din’s side of the bed empty. Your immediate fear was that Grogu’s condition had taken a turn for the worse, and Din had hurried out with him to hospital without having time to inform you.

Without hesitation, you pushed yourself from the bed and padded towards Grogu’s room, anxious for what you would discover in his tastefully furnished room. 

Fortunately, you had no reason to fear.

You breathed a sigh of relief at the sight before you. Grogu was sleeping peacefully in his bed, while Din was on the floor at his side. Hulking physique barely hidden beneath a comically small blanket as he dozed.

The light streaming in through the curtains and colouring everything golden was so much like the vision you had outside the house in Notting Hill a few days ago, that it almost took your breath away. Perhaps the future you had been imagining was right here before you already. Without you even realising it.

Your heart ached at the sight. It was so touching that you contemplated grabbing your phone and snapping a picture of the perfect moment. Before you could, Din stirred, face immediately breaking into a smile once he laid eyes upon you. 

“Morning, Sunflower,” Din groggily whispered.

“Morning, handsome,” you smiled, “Sleep well?”

“I did when I eventually got to sleep,” Din replied softly, careful not to wake Grogu.

“Why don’t I go and fix us some breakfast?” you questioned, eager to make yourself useful.

Din nodded gratefully, “That would be perfect.”

You blew a kiss to him before you left, deciding that pancakes would be the perfect pick-me-up for both Din and eventually Grogu, whenever he finally arose. You were relieved that Din had managed to get some sleep and that Grogu seemed to have settled.

After mixing the pancake batter and allowing it to sit for a few minutes, you were so engrossed in the task of making the sweet treats that you did not hear Din’s footsteps approaching. The first indication you had of his presence was a muscular pair of arms snaking around your waist.

“Din,” you warned, as he began kissing a path up your neck.

You refused to have the guilt of burning Din’s beautiful cottage to a crisp, too distracted by his attempt to seduce you.

“Wanna make up for last night?” he rasped into your ear, hot breath ghosting across the sensitive skin which caused a jolt of desire between your thighs.

“After I’ve finished the pancakes,” you murmured, “I worked hard on them.”

Tempting though the offer was, you were determined to treat Din to one of his favourite breakfast items. So, albeit reluctantly and not before stealing a kiss from your lips, Din retreated and patiently sat at the table, waiting for you to finish.

With the last pancake plated up, you turned to face Din. Who you discovered had stood up from the table to stand before you. Without wasting another second, he leaned in for a kiss. You groaned as he deepened it, tongue exploring yours. He tasted of minty toothpaste, indicating that his plan had not been entirely spontaneous. 

“I love you,” Din whispered as he momentarily drew back, eyes overcome with an emotion you could not quite place as he cradled your chin with his hand, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, “Thank you for being so patient with Grogu last night.”

“Of course, Din,” you smiled, giving his lips a quick peck.

When your lips met again, the frenzied desperation of moments ago was a distant memory. Din was taking his time, savouring the moment as he pinned you up against the kitchen counter. His lips descended lower and lower down your skin, trailing a hot path down the column of your neck before he pulled back your shirt, desperate to expose more skin as he nipped and sucked at your collarbone…

“Patu!”

Din instantly stopped his ministrations, drawing back from you as his chest heaved. You desperately hoped it wasn’t what you thought it was. But you would recognise that sound anywhere. 

“Buir!” 

There was no avoiding it now. The babbling from the baby monitor had interrupted the moment once again. Din flashed you an apologetic look and immediately dashed off to check on his son. 

You sighed as you watched him go. You felt greedy to want Din all to yourself. After all, you had been equally concerned for Grogu’s welfare and loved him as much as Din did. Still, it had been so long that you had a moment together. You were frustrated that fate had conspired to keep you stressed and apart, even when together…

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Grogu rallied throughout the afternoon, so much so that Din felt confident enough to call Kuiil to hire his services for a couple of hours, so the two of you could round off your weekend in your favourite way; taking a pleasant evening stroll together around the lush countryside near his house, before stopping for a pint in The Nevarro Arms.

The decision to visit here for the first time had been rather spontaneous, after the day you had entered the lake in Hyde Park. It seemed odd, the first time you had got in and met the landlord, a man called Greef Karga, that he had never met Din before. The Nevarro Arms appeared to be the centre of the little village in which Din lived. You shouldn’t have been surprised at the solitude you knew Din preferred, but you thought it was sad that he was so many miles from home and it hadn’t been until he met you that he had finally ventured out and about and shown his face in places.

Happily, it was now somewhere that you looked forward to visiting. Din had enthusiastically taken to pub culture. He had even come to enjoy the friendly conversations with Greef as he pulled two pints of your usual.

You loved your evenings at The Nevarro Arms. The atmosphere was cosy and homely, reminding you of home somehow in the feelings it provoked in you. You had come to learn that home was a feeling rather than a place.

This particular Sunday, though, was not like the others. 

The first indication that something was different was the number of people that were gathered on the front step of the pub, next to the rose bushes that were underneath the old windows. You loathed busy pubs. A sinking feeling already began somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach.

You and Din flashed each other a curious glance, but proceeded to enter anyway. 

An action that you regretted as soon as you stepped into the old pub and heard the relentless hum of people. 

Your fears had been realised. The Nevarro Arms was far busier than the usual quiet Sunday evenings you had grown accustomed to. Once you took a closer look at your surroundings, you noticed that your usual table by the windows had been occupied. It only added to the chasm which was opening up in your chest. Greef always tried to save it for you, but there were many more people in here than usual.

You considered leaving, but you knew how much Din enjoyed his pints. So, you grabbed his hand and made your way over to the bar. Your favourite pub landlord enthusiastically greeted you, his entire face illuminating at the sight of you and Din.

“Nice to see you two! What can I get you, the usual?” Greef boomed.

“Yes please,” you smiled brightly, “Thank you, Greef.”

“Anything for two of my most valued customers! Sorry it’s a little bit busier here than normal tonight,” Greef said as he commenced pulling your pints. 

“Oh it’s alright!” you lied,  “Is there some kind of party?” you asked, inquisitively.

Greef nodded and leaned in towards you and Din, as though he were about to divulge state secrets. 

“Apparently, one of the shows that films at the studios near here has just wrapped and a lot of the crew are having an unofficial wrap party before a bigger event in London next week.” Greef explained in hushed tones with a chuckle, “But don’t ask them for any details, they won’t tell me a thing!”

You threw your head back in laughter, but Din did not move a muscle. He suddenly looked incredibly anxious. You were concerned for him, but Greef handing your pint to you momentarily distracted you. 

When Din paid for your drinks, you finally took a moment to observe him, noticing how his brown eyes roved across the pub. It was as though he was searching for a familiar face. 

You were too distracted to let your mind wander that you were probably in a pub filled with people who had worked on your favourite TV show. Instead, you were preoccupied with the way Din’s fist had tensed, where he was resting it on the bar, at the mention of the TV show. 

It was noticeable how his entire body suddenly went stiff. He looked around the pub apprehensively, shoulders slumping as though he was trying to hide. There he was again, giving the theories that Ria had more credence. Still, you knew Din didn’t like big groups of people. Especially strangers.

So you tried your best to push those doubts to the back of your mind, even if it was part of a larger pattern that had caused you to question certain things over the course of your relationship. 

Din’s behaviour after you left the bar and found a table however, gave you increasing cause for concern. As you sat there, sipping your usual pint of cider, he was quiet, withdrawn. Chewing his lip nervously as his brown eyes stared so intently at the pint of cider on the table like it was the only thing in the world. It was almost as if he had physically shrunk in stature, broad shoulders hunched over, as though he was trying to make himself as small as possible. 

Suddenly, it was as though the transcripts of conversations you had had late at night with your friends in the groupchat came flooding back. Their reactions when you had told them about the proximity of your boyfriend’s place to the studios where your collective favourite TV show was filmed, how they had been so keen to get the gossip about it from a local and begged you to bring it up. 

Half of them were convinced Din worked on The Mandalorian but was sworn to secrecy, it had started in jest at first, but the more you told them about Din, the more crazy theories they were making. It had been fun at first, but they needed to remember it was your actual life! It was far from the playful way that Ria kept ribbing you that he was actually playing Mando, they were veering into conspiracy theory territory. 

Perhaps  they had been onto something after all. Din’s entire demeanour had completely shifted since Greef had told you what the party was in honour of.

You looked up from the table where you were sitting and noticed what you were sitting in front of. It was a spot in the pub you had always gazed at as you walked past, but never had the chance to sit and admire. Din was always eager to quickly move past this particular section of the pub. 

With it being the only available table tonight, it seemed that you would finally have your chance to bring up something you had been dying to for weeks. It wasn’t as though your boyfriend was particularly forthcoming with conversation, either. 

So you sat there, glancing up at the pictures and art that was a sort of shrine to the sci-fi franchise that was, in your mind, the most iconic of all time. A franchise that you had grown up with, but never truly loved until you watched Mando, the show that had comforted you at your worst moments. 

The fact that Din might be linked to that piqued your curiosity as much as it concerned you, given his current bizarre behaviour.

So, you decided to finally bring it up. You were tired of all the uncertainty:

“It’s pretty cool that they have all this memorabilia from the productions filmed here,” you observed, as you gazed around at all of the signed photos and posters that had been donated by various cast members, including by the big three from the original Star Wars trilogy.

“It is,” Din nodded, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with you.

His brown eyes were fixated on a menu in a way that was unusual, considering you were so known for ordering the same thing every weekend that Greef knew precisely what you were going to order when you walked up to the bar to place it.

“I do think it’s kind of a crazy coincidence, though, how my favourite show shoots only a mile away from here. A mile from where you live,” you shrugged, sipping your cider thoughtfully, “Have you ever seen any of the cast around?” 

“No, I haven’t,” Din replied sharply.

“It’s just a weird coincidence, that’s all. You say work brought you here to Nevarro and yet, apart from those studios, there is nothing else here.”

“Yep. Weird coincidence,” Din confirmed, still not making eye contact with you. Staring at the menu for so long that you knew he could have read it ten times over.

“Wait, why are you being so defensive? It’s not like you’re actually The Mandalorian,” you questioned teasingly, laughing at what you thought was clearly a joke.

Your laughs soon died on your lips, as you noticed Din’s reaction to the joke. He tensed up completely, flinching as you had said that name. 

You were sure you had seen him visibly recoil. 

There was something there, you knew it. 

Still, at that moment your chief concern was for him. The playful banter and flirting that had been present on the walk you had enjoyed before you had stopped here for your usual pint were gone, replaced by a tension and unease in the air that made you feel sick to the pit of your stomach.

“Wait, Din… I was only joking,” you clarified, fearing that despite everything, you had upset him. 

“Finish your drink. Then let’s go,” Din said, slamming down the menu on the table and draining his pint with the astonishing quickness of a seasoned cider drinker that you knew he was not. Perhaps he needed some Dutch courage.

“We can just leave, Din,” you reassured him. Suddenly the rest of your pint did not appeal to you, despite how much you enjoyed it and could taste the freshness of the apples that were farmed only a few miles away from here, “I don’t want you to be upset.”

Din nodded and stood to his feet, offering you his hand. He was being astonishingly quiet and your heart ached, seeing him retreat into his shell like this. The cosy Sunday evening that you had been so looking forward to all week – The Nevarro Arms really had the best cider offerings – would not be on the menu today. Instead, just a lot of tension and unease. It was the worst possible way to end your weekend.

It almost broke your heart.

You had almost made it out of the pub without further incident. You could see the pale blue sky after the sunset through the glass of the door, you could almost taste the sweet air of the warm summer night.

Then, it happened. 

The moment which caused your jaw to drop in disbelief. 

The moment which proved to you beyond all doubt that your suspicions had not been unfounded delusions. 

As, at the same moment that you went to push on the heavy door that led to the quiet street outside the pub, it opened from the other side. You almost stumbled forward as the door you were expecting to be there had already been opened, but fortunately you caught yourself in time. 

At first you were slightly disoriented, but then you noticed that you had almost crashed into someone else. He was a portly man who was taller than you. You had not yet looked at his face, just saw his chest area and the bright blue polo shirt he was wearing. 

As you trailed your eyes upwards, your mouth opened in shock. Staring right back at you, from behind a pair of black glasses, was a man that you would recognise anywhere. 

A man who had created the character that you loved more than anything else in the world.

A man whose scripts you had poured over for hours and hours, both by yourself and with your friends.

The man standing before you was Jim Freeman, creator of The Mandalorian. 

But he wasn’t even looking at you. It was like you were invisible, despite the fact you had almost bumped into each other. 

No, his brown eyes were looking straight over your shoulder. 

Jim Freeman was staring at Din. The flicker of recognition across his face was unmistakable.

Somehow, the writer and creator of The Mandalorian knew your boyfriend. 

Your boyfriend who had, just minutes ago, frozen up completely when you had jokingly accused him of being The Mandalorian. Your head was spinning. 

You turned to look back at Din, a question on your lips. A question that was never asked. Din placed his hand on the small of your back and practically shoved you through the door, apologising to Jim on the way out. 

Somehow you had made it out of the pub, but you were now standing there on the pavement, frozen. Your brain was struggling to catch up, to piece together everything that had happened. 

You were brought back by the sounds of Din’s footsteps as he walked away at a brisk pace. Should you follow him? Should you stay here and confront him? 

No, that would cause a scene. You were reeling from what had just happened, but you knew you had to follow him. There was no avoiding the conversation that needed to take place now. You couldn’t comprehend it, if you were right, if what your gut was telling you was correct, Din had more than a little explaining to do.

How could this even be possible? This kind of thing just did not happen to people like you.

You realised, with a sickening clarity that felt like a punch to your gut, that Din had been hiding something huge from you. There was no other explanation for his behaviour. 

As you followed his silhouette down the country lanes, your mind was replaying all the little memories, the moments that had caused you to question who he was. 

The first time you met, the comment he had made to Grogu about the Sutton Hoo helmet, the way that Din had mentioned being at the convention, how uncomfortable he seemed when you passed that child in the Mando shirt at the zoo.

The pieces were all falling together for you. But it couldn’t be true… how could it? This was surely the universe’s idea of a sick joke. There was no way that this man who had once been so shy and reserved, who was such a devoted father could be the same man behind the most fearsome bounty hunter in the galaxy. Who, onscreen, could snap a platoon of Stomtrooper’s necks like it was nothing. 

You knew Mando wasn’t real, that whoever was behind him was just an actor, but the contrast…. It was too much for you to comprehend that he could be the same person.

Din continued marching ahead of you. You had noticed that he did not take your hand like he usually did, indeed as he had done when you set out on your walk before stopping at the pub. Instead, he walked several paces ahead of you, eager to get home. You were about to tell him to slow down, to wait up, but he looked back over his shoulder and called out to you.

“Please, let’s just get home,” Din said desperately, out of breath on a walk that did not usually exert someone of his fitness level.

You were stunned, he had never treated you like this.

Suddenly, whatever he was hiding from you seemed unimportant compared to this new side of him that you were being exposed to. Din had always been so careful, so caring, so attentive around you. This behaviour was unlike anything you had ever seen from him before. It made your blood run cold, sent a shiver down your spine that was unrelated to the rapidly cooling countryside air after the sun had finally set and the shorts you were dressed in.

Luckily, Din’s cottage was not too far from the pub and before too long you were walking across the uneven slabs in the front garden which led to the door.

However, Din was so anxious that he was fumbling with the stiff, old lock. It almost took him longer to open the door than it took to walk back from the pub. You felt your worry increase as you noticed the way Din’s hands were trembling. He never seemed fazed by anything, until your little joke.

Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside. 

Din did not even look back at you. He kicked his shoes off and removed his coat, as if he was some kind of robot. He was about to ascend the stairs up to Grogu’s room, but you called after him, enraged about the way he was ignoring you. Especially after the events which had transpired in The Nevarro Arms.

“Din, please tell me what on Earth is going on?” you almost shouted, near hysterical at this point.

“Please, keep it down!” Din pleaded as he paused on the stairs, “Grogu is probably sleeping and Kuiil is still here. Let me get rid of him, and then we need to talk,” Din whispered.

“Alright,” you breathed, your arms folded across your body in a self-soothing gesture, shaking your head as you glared at him.

You were spiralling. What had he been hiding from you, all this time?

Clearly, your body language unnerved Din. He addressed you once again, brown eyes wide with worry. 

“Please, Sunflower… I promise we will talk. Why don’t you go and start a fire outside in the pit? I'll just say goodnight to Kuiil and set up the baby monitor. Then I’ll be out to join you,” Din begged, his eyes glinting despite the darkness of the cottage.

If you weren’t so unbelievably annoyed at him, you were certain that you would be marvelling at how absurdly handsome he looked even with the lack of light as he  ascended the stairs opposite the door. 

The brown shirt and dark blue jeans that he had worn for your walk was one of your favourite outfits. Din had allowed his brown hair to grow slightly longer over the past few weeks and you marvelled once more at how much it suited him. 

And his eyes…

Those deep brown eyes had made your heart ache for all the right reasons over the past few weeks, but now they were breaking you for a very different reason. 

Your mind was racing as you made your way to the outside to light a fire in the fire pit. Simultaneously eager to have and dreading the difficult conversation you were certain was heading your way. Your hands shook uncontrollably as you gathered the kindling and placed the logs in the fire pit. 

Din found you out there a few minutes later in the darkness, still struggling with the matches. He had silently crept outside and shocked you with his presence. Much like how he had snuck up on you earlier that morning as you made him pancakes. Except this time, there was no kissing. This time, there was no laughter. 

Din gently took the box from you and struck the matches with alarming ease, despite how nervous he looked. You weren’t sure if it was just the chilly air, or the fact that what he was about to tell you was something that was making him incredibly nervous.

With the flames finally leaping into the darkness and finally providing some much needed warmth, Din took a seat on one of the logs by the fire pit. You remained on your feet, pacing around anxiously while he watched. 

“Din, please explain to me your bizarre reaction to that question and why the guy who I know for a fact created The Mandalorian looked at you like that,” your voice trembled, struggling to get the words out that you knew could make or break everything.

Din could not make eye contact with you, fiddling with his thumbs as he stared into the flames. 

“Please, don’t lie to me. I need to know the truth,” you implored him.

Din sighed deeply, clearly gathering himself together. You braced yourself for whatever it was.

When he finally spoke, you were scarcely able to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. 

“There’s… there’s something I’ve been hiding from you since we first met,” Din finally speaks, his ordinarily measured, steady voice cracking and uncertain. “I just… There were so many times when I should have told you, when I could have spared you any pain. I didn’t want it to come out like this, I didn’t want you to connect the dots without me…” Din was about to continue, but you couldn’t help your reaction.

“Oh my god… it’s true…” you whispered, hand coming up to clamp over your mouth in surprise. It felt like your stomach had just fallen out of your body. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth as your knees threatened to buckle underneath you. You could not comprehend what you were sure he was about to tell you.

“I’m so sorry,” Din breathed.

“I need to hear you say it,” you demanded, shaking your head at him.

“I’m… I am The Mandalorian…” Din whispered. His voice trembled and his shoulders hunched forward as he said those words that confirmed your suspicions, “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner…”

“Did you… know?” you whispered, feeling the hot sting of tears beginning to burn your eyes and cheeks harshly, “I mean, did you know how much I love the show when you started dating me?”

“Sunflower, listen. I…” Din stuttered.

“Don’t call me that!” you shouted, voice far louder than you intended. You were not prepared to give him a second to justify his actions, instantly following up with another question, “Is that why you targeted me, Din? Oh she loves Mando, she’ll be easy to use for a quick fuck!”

“No, I would never do that,” Din shook his head emphatically, but you were not satisfied. 

“All these months, I’ve been so honest with you,” you choked, struggling to hold back the tears now, “Look where it got me!”

“Please, listen to me. I can explain, I…” Din pleaded.

“How many other girls have you used like this, Din Djarin? How many other girls have you held your title, your role over them to get them into bed!” you were hysterical now. Fortunately, the fire pit was away from the house so there was no danger of waking Grogu.

“I never used my role to influence you, to get you into bed. How could I, when you had no idea?” Din added calmly, “The way I felt about you was real. Everything about us… it’s always been real. I regret keeping that from you, but I promise, I have never lied to you when I told you I loved you.”

“How many others?” you gritted out, certain that if Din had lied to you about one thing, there must be more secrets he was keeping.

All those insecurities came flooding back to you. How could someone like Din ever have fallen for you, a lowly museum worker?

“You are the only one, baby, please. I love you,” Din whispered, his eyes filling with tears as he stood up and approached you.

“No, shut the fuck up, Din! You do not do something like this and then tell me that you love me! Our entire relationship, built on a lie. The worst  lie you could have ever told me,” you were powerless, now, to stop the trembling, nor the tears that streaked down your cheeks, “My friends, they suspected something, tried to tell me that it was suspicious how rich you were and how close you lived to the studios. They knew! I told them they were delusional, turns out I was the delusional one for ever trusting you!”

“I know. I regret not telling you, more than you could know. But I just…” Din could hardly get a word in, your hysterical ramblings continued:

“Oh my god, that night in the suite. When I got the bottle of champagne delivered and it was for Jim Freeman, it wasn’t a mistake or a coincidence. Fuck!” you yelled, sobbing now, “It was him! The Jim Freeman, you knew back then and you didn’t tell me. We slept together, Din! We told each other we loved each other! I got close to your son! How could you lie like this?!”

“Look. I know how angry you are…” Din began.

“ANGRY?! Din, I’m devastated!” you bellowed.

Din took a step back from you. 

You took a second to compose yourself, and added in a quieter voice, “I feel used, lied to.”

“Please don’t–”

“I feel like a fool. I feel humiliated. I just, I can’t do this anymore,” you admitted.

“Please don’t leave me, don’t leave me and Grogu,” Din pleaded as he took a step towards you and tried to reach his hand out to you.

“Don’t you dare use Grogu against me, Din!” you exclaimed as you stepped backwards, away from him. “I love that little boy and he is innocent in all of this! It’s not his fault his father is a fucking liar!”

“I know, I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean it like that,” Din  instantly apologised.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” you said, from behind gritted teeth, “Or were you just going to lie to me forever?”

“Baby, I tried my hardest never to lie to you. I just… I couldn’t tell you the truth, my identity has to stay secret…” Din explained, the term of endearment he used boiling your blood further.

“Oh don’t start with that, Din!” you exclaimed. “I don’t care what legal agreements you have. You should have told me! We were talking about moving in together, about making a life together. How could you do that when you knew you were keeping such a secret from me?”

“I… I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m sorry. I just wanted to protect you. I was going to tell you so many times, but I’ve been a coward,” Din said, staring down at the ground below as his broad shoulders drooped. He looked so forlorn, so broken that your heart ached despite your anger.

“Yes, you are!” you exclaimed, “You’re a complete coward, and a liar!”

There was silence for a few moments as the two of you stood there. You were breathing deeply, you could hear your pulse throbbing in your ears. Your jaw was clenched so tightly that you feared it would hurt tomorrow.

You looked over towards the fire, focusing on the way it leapt into the air and the sounds of the wood crackling to ground yourself. The rage you had felt slowly dissipated, replaced with something on an entirely different spectrum of emotions: sadness and defeat.

“Please, let’s talk about this…” Din begged.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Din,” you said quietly, the anger in your voice had been replaced with sorrow. You were defeated, broken, “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Well let me just tell you over, and over, how sorry I am,” Din begged, his deep voice strained.

“You can, but I won’t accept it,” you sighed, folding your arms against the chill that you suddenly felt. The fire had lost its effectiveness with the strong emotions that coursed through your veins.

“At least let me call you a ride home and let me wait with you while it arrives?” Din offered.

“Call me that cab but I’m waiting outside. I can’t do this,” you said, shaking your head as you walked away from him.

You had thought that you had got all of your anger and aggression out of your system, but as you entered the back door of the cottage and walked through the kitchen, you felt something stirring inside of you. 

You stopped by the fridge which had a collection of Grogu’s drawings – drawings of you and Din, drawings that you had helped Grogu with – pinned to it with magnets. Din had not only ruined the relationship between the two of you, he had robbed you of all the love and affection you held for Grogu, affection that Grogu clearly held for you. There were drawings of sunflowers, childish scribbles in crayon of yellow, black and green that were unmistakably the flower which Din had associated with you after your very first meeting you. 

As you stood there, seething, you felt the rage bubbling up inside of you again. 

When Din finally entered the cottage behind you after calling the cab, you bolted. You headed straight for the front door. 

Before you left completely, you turned over your shoulder and threw three words at him that you regretted the second they were out, that you could never take back: “I HATE YOU!”

Din was standing there in your wake as you made your way outside. You refused to look back, fearing that if you did, you would see how upset he was. Your heart would break at the sight of his devastation. If you saw him so broken, you feared that you would never leave. 

But you had to. There was no way you could ever trust him again.

The anger dissipated as you stood there, shivering in the cold. Replaced with deep sadness. The tears had returned, now streaming down your cheeks silently. You did take one last look back at the cottage, though, as you looked up to the window of the room that you knew belonged to Grogu.

“Goodbye Grogu,” you whispered, whimpering slightly as you uttered the words.

The little boy that you loved so much was completely innocent in all of this. He had been through so much and deserved everything, it wasn’t his fault that his father was a despicable coward.

Mercifully, the taxi arrived quickly and you did not have to stand there for too long. You clambered in without hesitation. 

There was no dramatic scene like something straight out of a rom-com where Din came bounding down the path, making an apology that you accepted instantly. Before he declared his love for you and scooped you up into his arms and took you inside. No, you just got into the cab when it arrived and sat there in absolute silence until the driver confirmed your address and that your journey had already been paid for. Then, you moved off.

Before the secluded little cottage that you had spent so many days making such happy memories with Din faded away into the distance, you had already descended into full body sobs in the back of the cab, with only a bemused cabbie for company. 

Despite everything, you yearned to feel Din at your side, his comforting soothing presence as he wrapped you up in his arms and made you feel safe. It was a cottage that you had created so many memories of with the man that you had unquestionably fallen in love with. 

It hurt that those memories were now with the very man who had lied to you. A man who had abused your trust in the worst way possible. The gravity of his lie was too great to even entertain his excuses, that he loved you, that he wanted to protect you. It was all just empty words to make him feel better.

As the cottage faded out of sight, you knew with absolute certainty that it was the last time you would ever lay eyes upon it. You would never see Din again. He had broken your heart, shattered it entirely. 

Getting involved with an older man with far much more money than you could ever hope to earn had always been a risk, you had known that. 

Still, most younger women got their heart broken for completely different reasons in these situations. Yours was a unique situation that may have been comical, were it not so utterly devastating.

How could you even begin to comprehend that the very same man who had been with you for months had been behind the character that you had fallen with? 

All the times that you had marvelled at how quickly you had bonded with Din, how you felt as though you had known him for a while… you realised with a sickening twist in your stomach that you had. 

That the very man you had been falling in love with for the past few months was the person from your favourite TV show, a show that had gotten you through your worst days and darkest hours, now you wouldn’t even have Mando there for you.

Your spiralling, rapid thoughts were interrupted by the taxi pulling up outside your building.

Din had already paid for your taxi, so mercifully the human interaction was kept to a bare minimum as you exited, grateful that the darkness hid your puffy, tear-stained cheeks. You ascended the stairs up to your poxy flat, fumbling with the keys on shaking hands just as Din had done before you finally unlocked the door. 

It was past midnight now, you should have been cuddled up with Din in his idyllic cottage, not returning to your flat alone, brokenhearted. But life was cruel and here you were, entering your cold, dark flat alone.

Before you even grasped your intentions, you marched to your bedroom. You tore your beloved Mando poster off the wall, ripping it to shreds with your bare hands before the destructive act even sunk in. You wanted nothing more to do with that show, you never wanted to even think about it again. 

The Mando figures on your bookshelves were snatched up too, thrown in the bin without even a second thought. Some of them were collectibles worth a considerable sum, but you didn’t even care. 

You fantasised about melting their stupid fucking helmets off.

With your destruction complete and your bedroom entirely Mando-free, you pulled your phone out to type the message to Ria with the words that you could scarcely believe were true. You briefly contemplated that you were probably violating several dozen Disney NDAs by doing so. But you didn’t care, quite frankly. Din deserved it. You typed, with shaking fingers:

[mandoismine] 00:07 - you were right. din djarin is the mandalorian.

Then you pulled the covers tight around yourself, and cried yourself to sleep.

Taglist: @survivingandenduring @readingiskeepingmegoing

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[mabelpodcast]

some (non-Mabel-related) news

I went to a bookstore.

It’s a beautiful bookstore, maybe one of the world’s perfect bookstores. It sells used and new books, and there are comfortable seats and beautifully-curated collections created by the people who work there, people who obviously love books, and there are nooks and crannies and secret rooms and areas for children and art and bathrooms and no one will bother you if you want to wander and read first chapters for three hours, which we did. I bought a signed copy of a Caitlín R Kieran book for four dollars. I loved being there.

I also hated being there. This bookstore is Instagram famous. A solid fifty percent of the customers were influencers. They blocked aisles to stage photos. They pretended to read in the most aesthetic poses, with books whose covers complimented their outfits. There was an entire section of the store dedicated to “Book-Tok faves”. I tried to read some of these books, and found them unilaterally depressing - not because of their subject matter, or even because of their shocking lack of copyediting, but because of the clear and heartbreaking hoops each and every author so obviously had to jump through in order to sell their work. The game, as my wife put it, they all had to play. Social media. Followers and likes. The cultural capitol of diversity points. The apologism for lack thereof.

For the past year I have been writing romance novels. I’m going to be painfully honest about the three reasons I’ve been doing so: first, because I’m good at it (I’m a fast, skilled writer); second, because I like romance novels; and third, because I wanted money. I believe in the sanctity of art but also in the bills I have to pay. I wrote these books in a way that meant I would not be ashamed of them, nor of my attachment to them. They are not deeply, religiously personal, like HETTIE AND THE GHOST, but they are about flawed and damaged people trying as hard as they can to find one another, and that is a story-arc I will always stand behind. Also? They are funny. And I write good sex scenes. They are good books.

For the past three months I have been working towards publishing them. It’s been going well. I have had some meetings. Of the twelve literary agents I queried, three have offered representation. I have enough familiarity with the publishing industry to understand what this means: my work is considered marketable enough that I could, with a lot of work but with definite feasibility, make a career from these novels.

Here’s the problem. It’s come to my attention that I hate this industry. I hate the pandering, the reduction of story down to audiences and trends. I hate the “elevator pitch”, I hate the lack of ethics and environmental consideration in printing mass quantities of books, I hate advertising and marketing myself and making sure that I am palatable - just queer enough, just marginalized enough - to sell rather than put off. I hate participating in a system that I fundamentally despise; I came up with Cantrap Press’s barter system because I hate it. On a long journey home at night, surrounded by suburban sprawl, I realised that I couldn’t make this my career. It would drive me insane. These stories will not change the world but all stories are alive and to pinch and snip them into shapes palatable enough so a Big Publishing Company can successfully pimp them to a world of Book-Tok influencers sounds, to me, like a living nightmare. I won’t do it.

But: I have another problem. I do believe with all my heart that art should be accessible. At the same time, I also believe with all my heart that artists should be fairly compensated for their work. Running a small press is a wonderful and worthwhile endeavor, but it is a labour of love, like putting out a podcast entirely for free. It’s also a labour of money, and the rising costs involved mean that I wouldn’t break close to even if I were to print these books myself.

So what’s the solution? Here’s mine. I’m giving them away. I’ve done this before, and it felt like the purest form of myself. The books will be, always, entirely free to whoever wants them, under the domain of a Creative Commons License. There will be a donation button. You can pay what you like for them, pay what you think they’re worth, pay what you can afford, or pay nothing at all. No pressure. No judgement. My barter policy will apply to these, too, if you want to compensate me but don’t have the funds. I’ve come to terms with the fact that refusing to play the game means I’ll never make a lot of money from these books. I may not make any at all. But these are my beliefs. I have to abide by them. I’ll be able to look myself in the eye; you’ll get fun fiction for free.

In a post-apocalyptic society maybe I’d be riding a donkey around the countryside telling stories, and you’d repay me for my skills by making sure I had enough turnips and deer jerky and tinder and donkey medicine. Instead I’m a person who lives in a house with electricity and gas bills. The farmers I buy my vegetables from at the market deserve to be repaid for those vegetables and the weight of labour, capitol and resources they represent. I don’t resent anyone for their participation in the system. I resent the ever-tightening ropes around us all. The ways we are tracked and compelled and sold to, the advertisements masquerading as entertainment, and worse, as art, how it seems we are being moved increasingly towards a model of consumption as definition, but only under very specific umbrellas - four companies own all stories, now what will you buy to define yourself by their characters and worlds? If I choose not to participate, no company can own my stories. And now, neither can you.

Introducing Anarchic Candy.

And my first book to be released, COMEBACK.

PS: in a twist of fate that, as my wife put it, would be completely unbelievable if it appeared in a story, one of the agents who enthusiastically offered representation also represents the author of one of those Book-Tok-famous books I saw at the used bookstore. This didn’t make up my mind (I’d already made up my mind before that agent even contacted me) but it’s an ironic coincidence I really can’t ignore.

[i-got-da-rubes]

I am very, very interested in Leo’s dynamic with his brothers in TMNT: Mutant Mayhem. Specifically, that first scene with the watermelon. In previous versions, Leo has fit in easily with his brothers, and with the exception of Rise, was always the most responsible and serious of the turtles. This hasn’t usually been an issue, and though it’s caused tensions in the 2012 show, he’s always had fun with them.

He’s in the background, drawn into himself. He seems like he wants to join in the fun but doesn’t know how. He feels isolated, he’s lonely. Keep in mind that this is how I’m reading his body language based on past experience.

Look at this scene as Raph throws the star at Miley. His shoulders are hunched up, and he’s sitting on his hands. He’s trying to hide, to make himself as small as possible. This is a pose I struck many times when I was in elementary school, the worst time of my life. I sat on my hands, that I remember vividly. I wanted to disappear into myself, to curl up until I was so small I stopped existing and didn’t have to exist anymore. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but I do feel that he is anxious and trying to hide.

And he IS anxious. He’s very quickly demonstrated to worry more than he has in past iterations. He seems to struggle to place authority over the others, to make them care about things as much as he does. This reminds me of Raph is Rise, his struggle in the movie to keep Leo responsible and under control. It’s interesting.

And let’s look at that isolation aspect again. In this frame, Donnie and Mikey are looking at the video of Raph slicing a watermelon in half. Leo is several paces behind them, his head upturned like he’s trying to see the video. He’s hesitant, demonstrating something akin to social anxiety. A desperation to fit in, have fun, and interact with others, but unsure of how to.

Then at the next frame, it’s clear several second have passed. Leo isn’t standing on Donnie’s left side like he looked like he wanted to. Instead, Raph is there. Donnie and Mikey don’t seem to have noticed. Then, on the next frame, he’s leaning against a wall behind Donnie looking frustrated. His arms are crossed and he’s looking around like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. I see this having occurred in one of two ways:

One: Raph doesn’t notice how bad Leo wanted to join them, because he simply doesn’t care to notice. Leo isn’t exactly part of the group, so it feels natural for the other three to huddle around a phone and not notice that there’s no space for Leo

Two: Raph did it on purpose. He sees that Leo wants to join Don and Mikey, and he takes the spot to purposefully isolate Leo. Maybe he even smirks back at Leo before suggesting the ninja stars, effectively distracting Don and Mikey and severing Leo from the activity. I don’t have an exact reason for why he would do this, but considering past versions of Raph, it seems possible.

Please be aware that these are my personal observations and predictions. Nothing in the movie is quite solid yet, and I think that’s a good thing. Please give me any counter arguments or theories you have.

Cannot wait for this movie!!! Have a wonderful day.

[soporificlily]

Marika, beckoning embrace, decapitated.

I want to talk about my thoughts on this. My thoughts might be based on wrong assumptions and misunderstanding, so I'm open to and want to be corrected (if I'm wrong). Ramble below the cut:

These statues contrast the ones found in the Lands Between. Back there, her statues are showing her in her crucified pose. Usually with head drooping and arms stretched out above her head, crucified.

Here in the Land of Shadow, her statues (so far) are showing her with open arms, as if beckoning an embrace.

I would assume, then, that these statues pre-date the ones in the Lands Between. I think these must have had the purpose of presenting the unbelievers of the Land of Shadow, whatever it was called before that happened, with the new Goddess and with her Golden Order. To spread the influence of the Erdtree, and to present it with a pure image of salvation.

The natives of these lands, I think, were the Hornsent. They follow the Crucible, whatever that is (I'm not sure yet) , so to the Erdtree and the Greater Will, the Fingers, the Golden Order, and Marika they must be heretics who have to be converted.

I guess when amicable and passive conversion doesn't wield fruit, it must be done by force: an inquisition, a holy war.

If the Erdtree could allow interaction with demi-humans, why not extend this grace, or mercy, to the Hornsent? Unless Marika, with her newfound power and probably fervent disdain, wanted to avenge her people and punish the Hornsent for all the misery they caused.

I grew up in a Catholic culture, and I know some of Catholicism's history. I do often find similarities in fiction to the story of Jesus and the Bible and so on. Like, for example, certain plots in the world of the Lord of the Rings (don't wanna go into specifics just for the sake of avoiding spoilers, especially of the Rings of Power show).

So, with that in mind, seeing Marika in this welcoming pose reminds me of a lot of depictions of Jesus. He is supposed to be this kind of merciful and loving character, who answers to this higher power which is out of sight and unreachable by physical means.

So I've been making a lot of connections by the mention of "holy war" by certain people, and some ghosts. A crusade against the unbelievers. Those who refused to give up their old ways for the new.

Marika might have tried to be a good god. She, I think, shows a lot of human traits. She is not perfect by any means and has made many mistakes.

I would think she started by trying to convert the Hornsent, but they wouldn't have it. The decapitation of her statues shows great frustration to me. To be moved so much by the image of a person, that it drives you to violence. Well, this person was now a figure of authority. An authority unwanted by the Hornsent. Marika and the Golden Order didn't ask if they could assume power, they just imposed their Will on the world by force.

I don't know. I didn't think this through before typing. I am actively processing this as I write. My thoughts are going straight from my mind, down to my fingers as I type.

I might be completely wrong about all this. My timeline of events might be totally out of order. I'm just talking from all that I've gathered myself.

The Lands Between and the Land of Shadow, all its people and history have turned me into a madwoman.

A rambling and crazed Tarnished.

Call me Sera the Some-Knowing, All-Wondering.