#i remember i uploaded this one a long time ago when i first got a tablet

[redloftwingfeathers]

Worthy hero, unforgettable companion

[godhasforsnakenme]

BOOK REVIEW 📖

This is the one for February – I was reminded of this book half way through the month and decided to reread it again because I couldn't remember how it ended; plus a short mystery is always nice to read (side note: this ended up as an ebook read bc I couldn't remember where in my storage boxes I have my copy – it's in storage because it's a paperback edition and old and I don't want it to die on me yet lol)

[seokgyuu]

Running a little witch store in a small town, recently the only exciting thing has been Jake visiting your store every other day. While he doesn’t buy anything, his looks are enough to make your days a little less boring. And when he comes in one day, mixing up his offered tea with a very, very powerful aphrodisiac… it is about to get a lot more than just a little less boring. 

Pairing: Neighbor!Jake x Witch!Reader Genre: Porn with almost no plot, Supernatural (as reader is a witch, duh) Warnings: Jake is a bit of an idiot but hot, reader is very sarcastic… are those even warnings? Reader has female anatomy and is described as a woman, pure filth basically, MINORS DNI!!! Smut tags under the cut Word Count: 6k  A/N: Well hello! Happy Halloween everyone! My little last minute Halloween Project is done! First up, thanks to @aaagustd for the AMAZING banner!!! And my lovely @heechwe for betaing! This  work was very, highly, extremely inspired by a clears throat spicy audio that was uploaded literally last night. Could not stop imagining it to be Jake who this happens to… so here we are. The creator’s name is AugustInTheWinter, check out his Patreon or Reddit, I swear it is SO worth it if you’re into audios!! Anyway, thanks August for this inspo and thank you guys for reading! tagging my beloved @yvnempire because she's so excited about this hehe. Please leave comments and/or reblog, it would mean the absolute world! Wanna support me? Here's my Ko-Fi!

Smut Tags: Big dick!Jake, Jake starts nervous and a bit subby, but turns into a beast, handjob, blowjob, face-fucking, facial, p in v sex, unprotected sex (stay safe kids!!), multiple orgasms, loads of cum (like really… so much), dirty talk, degradation (words used: whore, slut, hole, fucktoy etc.) cumplay, cum eating, tell me if i missed anything!

Everything about this town was boring. 

The scenery was boring. The activities were boring. The people were boring.

Just… everything. 

Your coven had sent you here because of the apparent magical aura you so, as they said, “desperately needed to achieve your full potential”. Bullshit, for all you cared. The magical aura might have been strong, but it was so deeply rooted into the earth, you had trouble reaching it even after hours of channeling your own powers. Of course, you didn’t tell them that. All they knew was that you were having a blast in this shithole of a town and had already made tons of friends. 

So far no one had questioned your answers and so you just lived your life, hoping you would soon succeed in attaining the magical power of this place and go back to your normal life. 

Recently, though, you at least had something a little less boring gracing you every other day. Jake Sim - the neighbor from across the street. He was handsome and a little shy and very obviously did not believe magic existed. Not that you cared much about that, no, you had been exposed to many people who didn’t believe in you and your kind, not to mention all the other supernatural beings walking on the face of earth. 

Jake was a non-believer and wonderful to look at and you were fine with that. Content. More than happy. 

As you were brewing some potions a few of the older women around town had ordered (while they also didn’t exactly believe in magic, they at least believed in your ability to brew things that were extremely efficient in their gardens), you found yourself thinking about the pretty man again. About his laugh and his eyes, about the way his shirt would rise up and show a bit of his happy trail leading down to something you could only wish to see fully exposed one day. 

Truthfully, the last time you got laid had been ages ago. So long that you couldn’t even really remember who it was with and where. It was a curse, this town, and seeing a young attractive man stalking into your store a few weeks back had suddenly brought back the desire you had managed to suppress for who knows how long. 

Just then, as you were deep in thought, cutting up some lavender, the door opened and the little bell above it rang, bringing you back to the present. 

“Hi Y/N!” 

Jake had his puppy smile on, hair blown out of his face and a thick coat hanging off his shoulders. He walked over to the counter and you smiled up at him, catching yourself finding his flushed cheeks extremely endearing.

“Jake, welcome. Anything I can do for you today or are just here for another chat about how magic can’t be real?” You tilted your head and gave him a playful smile that he answered with a little laugh.

“Actually, I did come for something today. Mrs. Bloodstean said you have some great tonics for flowers?”

Ah, yes, Mrs, Bloodstean, the woman three houses down who had trouble with her roses. You had helped her and now her roses bloomed all year round. 

“I do indeed, Mr. Sim. What can I get for you?”

“Well, I’ve been having some troubles with my Mandevillas… they don’t seem to wanna bloom as much as, uh, I would like them to.”

His sheepish grin would have made your knees weak if you’d been standing. You nodded and got up, checking the shelves behind you for the potion he’d need to get his flowers to grow and bloom as much as he liked. Eyes roaming over the different bottles, you soon came to the realization you were out and clicked your tongue.

“Seems like I’ll have to brew one. That’s gonna take a couple minutes, do you want some tea while you wait?”

Jake nodded yes and smiled, turning around to do this usual routine through the rows of shelves in your store. From a safe distance, he began to watch you do your thing, cutting up ingredients and throwing them into a miniature cauldron Jake couldn’t help but be amused by. A witch store in the middle of this small town, run by one of the most attractive women Jake had ever laid his eyes on. 

When he had first stumbled in here, he had mistaken it for an alternative medicine shop. While he wasn’t totally wrong, he also wasn’t fully correct. You did offer some remedies and lotions, some potions and tonics, but you also had crystals and salts and books in your many high rising wooden shelves. The first day, he had spent hours just browsing through the books, not thinking of actually buying anything, but somehow being immersed into this world of magic he was so sure could only exist in fiction. 

He hadn’t even noticed someone working at the front behind the counter until he turned to leave, almost stumbling over his feet when he spotted you. You concentrated on a page in an old looking book, biting down onto your tongue that was slightly sticking out of your mouth. You with the prettiest face he had ever seen, that made it so hard to look away. 

After that, he came back every other day, hoping to talk to you, get to know you and maybe ask you out on a date. Of course, he never did because if Jake was anything it was a coward. It didn’t matter that he somehow happened to be handsome, his charisma was in the trenches. 

It was obvious he didn’t see the effect he had on you, which made it even more fun to have him around in your store. You could sense that this man did not have one indecent thought about you while in the store, even when you wore low cut shirts or skirts with slits almost as high as your hip. No, he was a good boy, a sweet boy. The contrast of the two of you was almost comical - you thinking about what it would be like to feel him, to taste him, to push him against a bookshelf and have your way with him and Jake just wanting to man up to ask you out. 

Circling back to the front, Jake saw you hard at work and decided to fill his tea cup by himself, the steaming blue teapot on the right side of the counter. Smiling, he brought the cup to his lips and took a sip, his eyes widening at the sweet taste. 

God, that’s delicious!

The hotness of the drink seemed to fade into the background as the taste spread on his tongue, so sweet and wonderful his eyes almost rolled back, the liquid making his whole body feel warm and fuzzy, and without even noticing he finished the whole cup in one go. 

“Wow, that tea is amazing! What kind is it? I don’t think I’ve ever had it before.” Jake put the cup back down and beamed at you. 

Blinking, you looked up at the brown-haired man, your mind a little slow at catching up with what Jake said. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, brows furrowing slightly.

“The tea you made me, what kind is it?” He repeated, pointing at the teapot next to him. 

Your eyes widened for a brief moment, then you slowly got up.

“How much did you drink of that?” You asked calmly. 

“A whole cup, it’s like so, so good, how-,”

“A whole cup?!” The volume of your voice surprised both of you and Jake’s eyes widened in surprise, his mouth dropping open a little.

“Was that- was I not supposed to? I- I’m sorry, you seemed busy, so I just helped myself.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds. Watching Jake’s confused face, trying to read his thoughts. He had absolutely no idea what he just drank. But you did. 

A grin found its way onto your lips, a grin so diabolical it made Jake’s stomach turn. 

“That’s not your tea, Jakey,” you said, pointing at the teapot he drank from, “your tea is over here.”

Jake followed where your finger pointed next, a small black teapot standing to your left, all done with a cute little pink cup next to it. He blinked a few times.

“Then- then what is this?” He asked, nervousness beginning to spread through his body. Your grin deepened.

“Oh, that? That’s just the very, very powerful aphrodisiac for Mrs. Brown’s husband. See, he can’t really get it up anymore.”

Silence. Jake felt like the whole world had suddenly gone silent at your words. But then he remembered where he was, who you were and how incredibly unlikely it was that this really worked. So, he snorted.

“Right. An aphrodisiac in the form of tea, I’m sure that’s gonna work wonders with Mr. Brown.”

“Not just him, but you too, you know,” you began to walk around the counter, stopping when you reached the other side, leaning against it with crossed arms, “and you’re only supposed to drink one sip of it. You, dear Jakey, drank a whole fucking cup.”

Honestly, Jake still didn’t believe you. Or at least he thought he didn’t. But something about the way you looked at him almost made him falter. He laughed and shook his head.

“Come on, Y/N, I’m not an idiot. This obviously isn’t going to work, it’s a hoax, we all know it’s a hoax.”

“Is it though, Jake? Is it really a hoax?”

“What? Of course it is! Magic isn’t real, can’t be real, this tea surely won’t help Mr. Brown get an erection and I, my friend, more than anything, will not get aroused by some fake viag-,”

Oh shit. Jake couldn’t help the deep moan escaping his throat when he suddenly felt the hardest wave of pleasure hit his body. He almost dropped to his knees, his cock growing harder by the second, pressing against the seam of his jeans, making them uncomfortably tight. 

“You won’t get aroused, Jake? Yes? Is that right?” You were having the time of your life. This was better than anything you could have ever predicted. By Mystra, how could you have forgotten about the tea for Mrs. Brown? And how lucky were you for Jake to mistake it as his own? You couldn’t believe your luck. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Jake groaned now, his chest heaving and you tilted your head again, watching sweat form on the handsome man’s forehead. His pupils were blown and his face flushed and, fuck, did he look good. 

“I would say the potion is kicking in. How does it feel?” You bit your lip, watching Jake struggle to find words for what was happening inside… and outside of him.

“I- well, oh fuck, it, uhm, it feels… it feels like, like I’ve never- like it’s so.. it’s so h-hard, you know?”

“Hm, I don’t think I do. Perhaps you can show me, just so I can check if it all looks normal?”

Jake’s cock twitched at that. You wanted to see? Check if it looked normal? Another moan made its way through his lips and it sounded so utterly pathetic you felt yourself drip into your panties.

“Wh- what do you mean “normal”? C-Could it look, like, n-not normal?” He was sweating. A part of him really wanted you to see, to check, to maybe even touch him, but another felt shy, didn’t want this to happen before taking you out to a nice dinner, maybe even a movie and- 

Fuck, who was he kidding? 

“I don’t know, that’s why I wanna check. Will you show me, Jakey?” 

“F-fine, b-but only to check!” His cheeks were on fire at this point. His cheeks on fire and his cock hard as a rock, aching and throbbing and probably aggressively red at the tip. 

That last prediction proved to be correct when he pulled down his pants and briefs at once, his cock springing free, standing harder and prouder than he had ever seen it. He whimpered at the sight. 

And you? You almost fell to your knees, itching to touch him, to lick over the tip that was already leaking so, so miserably. Oh good lord. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip again and you swallowed hard, eyes glued to the huge cock Jake had been hiding from you.

“Is it- is it always this big?” You asked, not even looking into Jake’s face anymore.

“Well, n-not when it’s not, uhm, you know… h-hard.”

“So it’s this size even when no potion is involved?” You wanted to know.

“Y-yeah, that didn’t change.”

“Holy fuck,” you mumbled, your hand wanting to grab around him so badly, but you contained yourself. 

“What- what can we do? Like is there an antidote? Can I- can I drink another potion? Or maybe there is, uhm, fuck, a spell or something?”

You chuckled.

“Now you believe in spells, Jakey? Funny timing,” finally, you raised your head to look at him again, “but no, there is no antidote. Like I said, it’s made to help get it up and given in a specific dose. But you, my dear, drank probably thrice as much as necessary.”

“So what does that mean? I- I can’t just go home like this!”

He was right about that. Everyone would see him sporting the largest boner known to mankind. And right now, you decided, this was only for your eyes. 

“I think the best way to deal with it is to, frankly speaking, empty it.”

Stars seemed to dance around Jake’s head when you spoke, the image of you rubbing his cock, sucking on it or even bouncing on it to empty him of all his cum… he twitched aggressively. 

“S-so, wh-what are you sug-suggesting?” His heart was speeding in chest and he was trying his hardest not to jump to conclusions. 

Yet another devilish grin spread on your lips as you raised your hand and snapped your fingers, closing the blinds of the storefront window and locking the door all at once. In any other situation, Jake would have been freaked out, but right now all he could concentrate on was the way you pushed yourself off the counter and looked at him from head to, well, problem.

“I am suggesting, Jake, that it would only be right of me to help you out.”

Jake swallowed hard, glued to where he was standing, his cock still so unbelievably hard, still aching and throbbing and in desperate need of attention. 

As you lowered yourself, knees soon hitting the wooden floor, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“Do you want me to help you out?”

“God, yes, please.”

And there it was. All that you needed to finally bring your hand to his cock. He immediately moaned, head falling back as his hips moved forward, thrusting into your grip. You chuckled as you slowly began to move, bringing your thumb to his tip, gathering all of the already leaking precum to use as lubricant. 

It already brought you immense pleasure, jerking him off. Staring up at him, seeing nothing but pure lust and desperation on his face. You were throbbing between your legs, wetness building up more every passing moment. 

“Fuuuuuck, yeah, j-just like that, oh wow.” 

Jake felt like he had never been touched like this before. Every bit of friction against his skin was like the first time. Every inch you touched with your hand was burning, sparkling with something he could only describe as magic. He couldn’t stop the desperate moans even if he tried, couldn’t stop his hips chasing your hand, thrusting into it like a mad man. 

“Faster, please!” He cried out and you obeyed, speeding up your hand. Your eyes were glued to his cockhead then, watching how precum kept leaking, drips landing on your floor or the briefs that were hanging around his ankles with his jeans. 

You worked your hand faster, having trouble closing it around his big shaft and finally adding the second, working him at double speed with his cockhead still peaking out. 

God, how would he feel inside you? 

Two hands around his cock and Jake could sense a first orgasm approaching. He thrusted his hips, fucking both of your hands, eyes rolled back into his skull, the pleasure completely taking over.

“Yeah, yeah, just like that, fuck, fuck, I am fucking your hands so good, shit!” He didn’t know where to put his energy, switching between moaning and whining and saying his incoherent thoughts out loud, feeling himself leak onto your hands. He wondered what you’d do when he came, if you’d just let him come right onto you or if you’d point it elsewhere. 

“Feel good, Jakey? You look so hot, so, so good for me.” You stared up at him, batting your eyelashes and finally Jake looked down at you, his spit catching in his throat. You looked insane with his cock in your hands, your face wild and determined, a small grin on your lips that made his cock twitch once more. The whimper escaping him must have been the single most arousing thing you had ever heard. 

“I’m gonna come, I’m s-so close,” he cried and you nodded, licking over your lips.

“Yeah, come for me, wanna see you come, Jakey.”

When he had said yes to you helping him out, he sure as hell had not expected dirty talk to be involved and, shit, was he happy it was. His mouth fell open wider, eyes glossy and focused on your face. He knew it was going to be a lot, knew he’s going to shoot the biggest load of his life onto you in a few heartbeats.

“C-Coming, oh- shit!” 

When he came, he came. Cum spurted out his cock, and you didn’t even think about letting a drop go to waste. The first load landed on your neck and collarbones, dripped down your cleavage and over your breasts, the second you managed to catch with your tongue slurping it down like a five-star meal. The third landed on your cheeks and chin, some on your neck, joining his already left mark. 

Jake truly couldn’t believe his eyes. You, the woman he had been thinking about asking out for weeks now, covered in and eating his cum. Another little bit of cum dribbled out his cock and you caught it perfectly with the tip of your tongue, causing Jake to groan desperately. 

He was still so fucking hard. Still desperate for more.

“I need more, I’m still so hard, please.” His pleasing eyes and slightly trembling lips made the picture in front of you perfect. Jake, big cock full on display, still hard from the potion he had drank by pure accident, his first orgasm so powerful he had shot three loads onto you, was now begging you for more. 

And you were more than eager to make every wish of his come true. 

“Since you said please…,” you grinned, leaning forward, not giving a damn about the seed currently drying on your skin, and flicking your tongue against his tip, his hand almost immediately moving to grip the back of your head.  “God, yes, yes, please take it into your mouth, fuck, please!”

His wish was your command. 

Your lips closed around his tip, sucking on it just slightly, tongue gliding over his sensitive slit, tasting his bittersweet taste, wondering if maybe the potion had altered something about it. Next, you moved your head forward, taking more of him into your mouth, feeling the veins of his cock press against your tongue. A moan erupted through you, the arousal almost too much to bear at this point. 

“Ohhhh, god, yes, take it, take it deeper, shit.” His hips moved, pushing more of him into your mouth. He seemed to vibrate, seemed to fit perfectly into your wet heat, tip hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag, spit dripping from his shaft down to the floor. Your hands grabbed the back of his thighs, steading yourself as he began to thrust down your throat. 

“Holy fuck, that’s right, gag on my cock, gag on it, fuck.”

It must have been the potion speaking because he wasn’t usually this vocal. But then again, he had never had anyone take his cock down their throat as well as you were doing right now. Gagging and spitting and tearing up, but nothing in your face showed discomfort. No, you were thriving on this and Jake felt your arousal in the air, felt it mixing with his and he sped up his hips, both hands now holding your head in place as he let out the most beautiful moan you had ever heard. 

He shoved you down his cock completely now, his balls hitting your chin as he fucked your mouth like it was the last thing he’d ever do. Drool mixed with his precum dribbled down your chin, tears began to stream down your face, your eyes rapidly blinking as you watched him lose all of his composure. You wished to keep this memory engraved into your brain for all of your life.

Jake was in a rush, in a complete trance, fucking down your throat, feeling your tongue against his shaft, your throat restricting around him, your gags and chokes turning him on even more. Somehow, with every thrust closer to his release, he felt the tension rise up more. 

What the fuck even was in that potion? 

It hit him then, his second orgasm, thrusts becoming sloppier, quicker, accompanied by desperate moans, whimpers and groans. 

You managed to swallow it all, the load just as huge as during his first orgasm, shot after shot down your throat, your eyes growing wide while you sucked him dry, or at least attempted to.

“Swallow it all, yes, yes, fuck, come on, come on! Take it all, I know you want to, fuck!” 

There was no control left in his body, the potions effect taking over completely. 

He emptied his cock into your mouth and pulled out when he at least thought it was over, only for another wave to hit him and land on your skin again. He felt like an artist painting an already perfect canvas with his own visions. 

“S-sorry, fuck,” He breathed hard, watching you slowly get up, your face wild and stained with his seed as well as your own tears. Your eyes were red, pupils blown and with every gaze you shared, he knew you wanted him as much as he wanted you. He swallowed and looked down, seeing his cock still hard, still throbbing and aching. Would this ever end?

“I need more, need more,” he mumbled, stumbling forward and grabbing your hips roughly. You moaned at his touch, your fingers gliding over your chest to pick up some of his cum and shove it into your mouth, sucking them clean. He swore under his breath.

“Do you want to fuck me, Jakey?” You asked then, voice sweet like honey, but body looking so breathtakingly filthy. 

“Want to, need to, have to,” he replied, moving to lick some of his own cum off your neck. You moaned at that surprising action, pussy throbbing and dripping. Without another thought, you dipped forward, pressing your lips against his. He kissed you back right away, tongue shoving into your mouth and he could taste himself even more on your tongue. His hands ripped open the corset-dress you were wearing, freeing your tits from their prison and immediately moving to grab them.

You hopped onto the counter then, pulling him closer, legs hooking around his waist. He kissed you hungrily, tongue and teeth and spit and hotness all mixed together. You shoved his coat off his shoulders and opened the buttons of his shirt, but he stopped you.

“No time, need to be inside you now.” He basically growled, fingers simultaneously finding your panties and ripping them off of you just like he had your dress. You spread your legs further, ready for him, more ready than you had ever been. 

Jake knew he had reached heaven right then. Grabbing his cock and bringing it to your drenched pussy, pushing into your awaiting entrance and feeling you grip him, pulling him closer. He cried out, whimpered into your ear and continued to suck on your skin, cleaning you off of his seed all while working to bottom out.

And when he was finally buried to the hilt, he only paused for a second to take it all in, before beginning to fuck into you at a brutal pace. Your fingers clawed into his shoulders, mouth dropping open as your head tipped back and high pitched moans crawled out of your throat over and over. 

“So fucking tight, taking me so fucking well, such a dirty fucking slut.” Jake bit your neck and you cried out once more, your whole body shaking with pleasure as he continued to fuck you. There was nothing you could compare to what was happening right now. No one had ever fucked you as good, as hard and as fulfilling as Jake. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any better than this, Jake pulled out of you and grabbed your waist, heaving you off the counter only to spin your around and push you down onto it, your ass up in the air.

“Sorry, need to fuck you like this.”

Back in he went - full speed, full force. The counter shook under you and you gasped when he began to thrust. His cock dragged against your walls, split you open so beautifully it felt like you were going to burst. You threw your ass back at him, clawing at the edge of the counter, eyes falling shut as you let yourself enjoy the way he drilled into you.

There was a high chance Jake was going to grow addicted to this feeling. Never had he ever had sex as good as this and perhaps this was courtesy of the potion - or maybe it was just you. You with the perfect pussy, the perfect mouth, the perfect hands. Everything about you seemed to heighten his arousal, seemed to get him closer from the edge all while pushing him even further away from it. 

He could do this for hours, fuck you until he came, spill his seed in you over and over, watch how it spilled out. God, he wanted to see your pussy stuffed with his cum so bad. Watching his cock slip in and out of you, hearing the noises you made, it was almost too much.

“You’re my perfect little hole, aren’t you? Just made to be fucked like this,” he couldn’t help himself, grabbing your hips even rougher and spitting down to make it even wetter. Not that that was really necessary. You were dripping down his cock as well as your own thighs and Jake swore he would never recover. 

“Fuck, Jake!” You cried out, hip trying desperately to move while he held you, eyes opening only to roll back as your orgasm hit you like a brutal wave.

“Shit, are you gonna come on my cock, slut?” Jake saw red as he felt your pussy spasm around him, pulling him even deeper, squeezing him for all he had, wanting to milk him dry of his load. 

And who was he to deny such a request?

“Come inside me, Jake, please, please, please!”

You had sensed his orgasm and he let out a growl, finally filling your pussy with his load just as you hit your second high right after the first. Once again, it didn’t stop, it just kept on coming, his cum landing inside you and already dripping out as he fucked both of you through your orgasms, filthy sounds filling the air next to both of your moans and groans and pleads for more. 

Jake had expected to be done after three, but no, he was still hard, and so he grabbed your wrists and held them behind your back, standing up straighter as he picked up the speed once more.

“Need another one, baby, just one more, fuck, m-maybe two, I just- fuck, I am so hard, I need to fuck you more, wanna fuck you all night, need to fuck your pussy.”

There was nothing left in his brain except for the need to come, for the need to fuck you. He was like an animal during heat, felt like he was going to explode. His cock was so incredibly sensitive, hurting even at this point, but it was addictive, you were addictive. Just the thought of not being inside of you anymore filled him with something close to agony. 

“Y-yes, fu-fuck me Jake, your cock feels so good, s-so big!”

At this point you could have taken the potion yourself judging by how you were feeling and talking. Normally, you were the one in charge, the one on top. But with Jake? You enjoyed being in his hands like this, enjoyed being used by him for his pleasure. You wanted him to fill you up, to split you open, to do with you whatever the hell he wanted. 

“God, yes, like my big cock fucking you open like that? Such a good behaved little whore, isn’t that right?” He found himself slapping your ass, and judging by your reaction that had been the exactly right thing to do. He groaned when he felt you squeeze him again, both hands back to holding your hands in place.

He lost himself in you. Lost himself in the pleasure. And you lost yourself in him and the need to have him fill you up again and again. 

His fourth orgasm made his cock soften a little. He filled you to the brim, watched the majority drip down your legs, forming a little puddle to your feet and he licked his lips, letting go of your hands and pulling out of you, turning you back around and placing you back on top of the counter. 

“Lean back,” he ordered and you did as wanted, eyes wide and pussy throbbing from the last orgasm a few seconds ago. 

You leaned back on your elbows, watching him position himself between your legs. He grabbed his cock and placed it in between your lips - to thrust in between them, cockhead repeatedly hitting your clit. You gasped, body jerking forward.

“Wanna paint your whole body with my cum, stay still.” His big hands grabbed your hips, pinning you to the counter as he began to thrust his cock over your pussy, the friction already enough to almost make him come again. 

“Mhmm, y-yes, f-feels good!” You cried and he grinned, continuing his spiel like a madman. 

“You’re so sexy, so fucking sexy, baby.” He breathed out, his brain slowly but surely coming back to him. And when he heard that little noise you apparently always made before you came (if he could trust the two orgasms from earlier), he felt himself reach the edge as well. 

Your head fell back when you felt the next orgasm hit and your pussy ached for more when his next load landed all over your stomach, even reaching as far as your tits, painting you just like he had wanted. 

The canvas was finished.

But Jake wasn’t.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, so sorry, I need to-,” his head was fuming red, and he moved back a little, just to dip his cock back into your spent pussy and you fell flat onto your back, your head hanging over the counter. 

He fucked you like a ragdoll, like a toy, like he didn’t even really acknowledge you were still there. He pressed down onto your stomach and sped up, tried to fuck you deeper. He imagined he could feel his cock through your skin, imagined he could see himself fucking you just like that. 

“S-so deep!” You cried out and he looked at you, at your body, and nodded, watching now how your tits jumped at every thrust. They were stained with his cum as well and he hoped he would never forget this image. 

“One more, promise, just one more, my perfect little fucktoy, yeah?”

His words were so filthy, so desperate and full of need, they made your pussy spasm again, made you grip him hard over and over again. 

“That’s it, fuck! Gonna come, gonna come, shit, sh-shit! Take my cum, take it, yes, yes!” He was in a spiral downwards, then back up and back down - his last orgasm hitting him like a fucking brick, yet another load landing inside your pussy - one, two, three. His cock twitched and twitched and finally began to soften. 

When he pulled out, he fell backwards, landing on the floor, his eyes wide and his ass hurting. 

The potion slowly lost its grip on him, his normal, coherent thoughts coming back all while he was getting down from his many, many highs. 

You pulled yourself up in exhaustion, your chest heaving. When you sat up straight again, you couldn’t help but chuckle at Jake on the floor. 

“Need a hand?” You asked, carefully jumping off the counter and finding that your legs were nothing but mere jelly. Quickly, you grabbed onto the edges of the surface and found your balance again.

“I- I-,” Jake began to stutter, his eyes probably the size of saucers by now. You grinned.

“You?” You raised a brow. Jake’s face turned crimson.

“I- I’m sorry, I-,”

“You’re apologizing? For what? The best sex I’ve ever had?” You snorted, “No, Jakey, no need to apologize.” 

Jake bit the inside of his cheeks. Best sex you’ve ever had? While he wanted to feel proud, he wasn’t so sure if that really had been him having sex with you or if the potion had a mind of its own. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” you moved forward now, stretching your hand out for Jake to take, “the potion only strengthens what’s already there. It doesn’t change your personality, it just makes you give less fucks.”

Had you read his mind? Jake cleared his throat and nodded slowly, before taking your hand and letting you help him up. 

Only then, when he was standing so close to you again, did he realize you were still covered in his seed. He turned even redder.

“Oh, right.” You giggled, closing your eyes and once again snapping your fingers. 

Immediately, you were clean of his cum and back in your dress - which had also magically repaired itself. Jake also found himself back in his briefs and jeans, his coat safely hanging over the counter. His mouth dropped.

“You-,”

“Are an actual witch, correct, Sherlock.” You winked at him and walked back to the other side of the counter, “Now, do you still need that potion?”

Jake stared at you for a second.

“Y-yes,” he mumbled, watching as you quickly finished the preparations. He didn’t dare say anything, his heart beating at triple speed and his brain working overtime. He had just fucked you. For like… a good while. And he didn’t even have your phone number.

“There you go,” you smiled and carefully shoved the bottle with the potion over the counter, “just pour a few drops over your flowers tonight. You should already see some results in the morning.”

“Th-thanks. How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, Jakey. You already paid me enough.” You said cheekily and Jake found himself choking on his own spit.

When he walked out he regretted not asking you for your number. Or if you wanted to go on a date. 

But that night, when he got ready to put the potion to its use, he saw a little note stuck to the label he hadn’t seen before.

Tomorrow, 8 o’clock at your place. I promise I’ll bring wine that won’t make you wanna fuck me for hours. It’s a date! Also here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxx. See you tomorrow, loverboy!

Jake found himself laughing out loud. 

And while he did his work in the garden, he thought that just because the wine wouldn’t be the reason, he sure as hell would not mind fucking you for hours at least twice every day for the rest of his life.

[miviaceleste]

A Blackrock Story: A Boy with Turquoise Eyes

Happy 12th Anniversary to Blackrock Chronicle!

This comic ended up being 47 pages long (when I first sketched it, it was only 20 pages long). Since I can only upload 30 images in a post, I had to combine 2 pages into 1 image so hopefully it's still visually fine and not annoying to scroll through!

I wrote this mini-story more than 10 years ago, so I figured it was time to finally make it into a comic (after editing the writing a lot because I became a much better writer since lol).

Be aware of the TWs, and I hope you enjoy this comic!

TW: Violence || Blood || Injuries/Scars/Burn Marks || Kidnapping || (Temporary) Death || Loss of Limb / Amputation

Thank you all for reading one of my most insane projects ever!

Now, here’s another long story:

About 8 years ago, my life became so busy that to stay on top of my studies and activities, I stopped watching a lot of YouTubers, including the Yogscast.

I’ve grown up throughout the years. I had to stop acting like a kid to figure out what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I’m still an artist today, but I haven’t drawn in this way for about 3 years to pursue my real passion. I love to draw, but I didn’t have the time or inspiration to make something grand.

About 3 months ago, I suddenly got curious about how all those YouTubers I stopped watching were doing, so I checked out their channels and watched a video or two before moving on. When I got to the Yogscast channel, on the other hand, I quickly fell in love with the new content and with everyone again.

It was insane to see how immediately my love for them came back. In 3 months, I’ve watched so many videos and streams/VODs. It’s all so comforting, funny, and uplifting. Clearly, I missed so much content in the past 8 years, but at least I don’t have to worry about running out of things to watch for a while.

What made me most happy was that despite changing a lot, I never stopped being that kid who laughed at the Yogscast’s shenanigans. It just goes to show that no matter how much the world tries to push you around, you never lose that sense of joy you had as a child.

Now, about Rythian:

Since I started watching the Yogscast in 2011, Rythian has always been my favorite. I loved his series so much, especially with how he got into character to give us an immersive experience. It was an escape for me as a kid. When difficult moments were thrown at me, I watched Rythian’s series to find a sense of comfort.

So when I started watching his and Zoey’s Blackrock series, my mind was blown. The storytelling, acting, humor, and drama of the series were so immersive and touching that my creativity exploded.

I mainly use art to express myself and my interests because I struggle to talk about it. But funny enough, Blackrock was the only interest of mine that got me to not draw, but to write. I wrote a lot of short stories about the series—even how I envisioned the series would end. I was so inspired to create all the time from this series.

And what’s crazy is that at the beginning of this summer, I found all of those written drafts and notes from when I was a kid. I kept them all for 10+ years and found a very loose (and not that good) draft of this comic and I felt really inspired to finish it.

It was roughly when I was first watching Blackrock too when I realized that I can be creative in the future. The Yogscast helped me understand that I can do whatever I want for the rest of my life. If they could do it, then why can’t I?

What’s also wonderful is that even after so many years, Rythian never stopped being my favorite. When I started watching the main channel again a few months ago, I immediately found myself rooting for him whenever he was in the group videos. I just remembered how much happiness he brought me when I was younger and it makes me so happy that I still get so much joy whenever I hear his voice.

While working on this comic, I watched all of Kirbycraft and caught up on Kirby Farm. I can’t help but smile the whole time Rythian, Briony, and Kirsty interact with one another. The dynamic of these three brings me so much laughter and comfort. A part of me is upset that I didn’t get back to watching everyone when Kirbycraft was still live, but better late than never, right?

I also originally started this comic without the intention of posting it. But then I figured, Hey, it’d be great to share it with everyone who’s also been impacted by this series and the Yogscast in general, so I made this blog to post it here. Honestly, I’m not sure when the next time I’ll be able to draw is (who knew building a career takes away a lot of your energy and time?). But I think that’s what’s so wonderful about my love for Yogscast and particularly Blackrock: I didn’t make this comic for the likes or views. It was just because I wanted to, and I’m so happy to see there are so many people on here who feel the same love for them as I do.

This series and the people who made it, along with the people who supported it and loved it and continued to love it, impacted me for the better. I learned so many years ago that I can be creative for a living, and have been working hard towards doing that since.

Happy 12th Anniversary to the Blackrock Chronicle. To Rythian and Zoey who put a smile on this kid’s face even during the toughest of times.

And to the Yogscast, thank you for being there for me when I needed you all the most and for still being here when I came back. Your ability to inspire me and make me laugh never disappeared throughout the years I was gone, and I’m ready to laugh some more.

[nyx-is-missing]

hello! Can you write a Clarisse La Rue x reader where they met before Clarisse got sent to camp halfblood when they were little and were best friends then Clarisse left for camp with no explanation then years later reader goes to camp and sees Clarisse for the first time in years and it’s kinda awkward but cute

thanks :)

This is kinda long sooorrry, to help, the part where she gets to camp (kinda) will be in green

Girls on film 📷

Clarrise la rue x fem!reader

Warnings and explanations: bad words (take the kids out of the living room she swears) gender is specified cause it was written as wlw, but it doenst actually makes a diference, fluff, like two sentences, there is a kiss in the picture but they dont actually kiss sorry.

Unspecified parent gender for both sides so yall can pick wichever

Trying not to kill myself.

That was what i was doing 15 hours ago, just as any normal teenagers living (or as i prefer saying fighting for the soul to stay on the body) during finals week.

In my room there was nothing but piles and piles of normal work, piles for extra credit, piles of old quizzes to try to get me prepared for the new ones and a dumb incomplete project for photography class that was due tomorrow.

Okay ill admit, i had a month to make that, and all i needed to do was shoot pictures, but that was the problem, i prefer taking pictures of people, their emotions, whatever they might be, just never ceases to amaze me.

And my dumb project made take pictures of....landscapes.

Not too bad, if i had any actual real talent for that type of photography, but i dont, every picture gets ruined somehow, its the lightning, the lack of it, my camera falls, gets full of dirt and i get so mad that i just give up.

That whole speach was necessary for me to explain what i was doing 14 hours ago, and that would explain what i was doing 5 minutes ago.

14 hours ago i decided to shoot the photos, i could try many times before it got dark, and if o was lucky enough i wouldnt go insane before the golden hour, and could actually get some nice pictures.

I grabbed my totte bag taking with me only the necessary, camera stuff, the camera, some snacks and my notebook to upload the pictures before i went mad.

13 hours ago i was running to save my life.

And do you know that moment went you go through so much your mind decides to erase it?

That happened, now, what i do remember, i was sitting in a bench by a calm road not too far from the town, i had got some actually good pictures, some of me, some of the trees, some of a butterfly, maybe three cars had passed by since i was there, driving slowly, always saying hi and doing a thumbs up, normal, friendly people from the town.

And then i heard a noise that shook the trees.

I remember seeing something, but never what, i remember running to home as fast as i could, feeling my heartbeats in my neck, i remember the noise, but the people in the streets looked at me like there was nothing behind me and i went crazy

I remember getting home, having a desperate talk with my parent while they got my suiticase ready, and i dont remember a single word.

I remember a funny looking guy my age that got to my house, with goat legs and a more desperate look, and i remember one last hug before i left.

And thats all, aside from a hell of a lot of running nobody cares.

Aparently i passed out from shock or exaustion because i woke up in a unknown place, at night, in a hospital bed, with no actual doctors other than 15 year olds teenagers.

And a horseman standing in the corner, with quite a intelectual look actually.

And let me tell you guys that after the talk we had, if somebody told me i would marry queen Elizabeth within 4 days, i would just belived it.

Because nothing ever in my life would ACTUALLY beat up the level of crazyness of finding out i DO have another parent, they are just, A FUCKING GOD. GREEK. GODS. AH.

Then, after telling me my whole life was in fact, a big fat lie, the horseman... left.

Telling me i should sleep in the infirmary this night for precaution and that he was going to get me to a cabin tomorrow.

Like that was the most normal thing to ever happen to a human, he said goodnight and left.

While i sat there just trying to...basically form a sentence that wasnt "for fucks sake what the fuck was that"

I would have loved to say that i did slept that night, dreaming about glory and greek myths but that did not happened, at all.

I walked around the infirmary for hours, opening every cabinet and trying to make my mind to something, i searched for my stuff, and thankfully found my camera, with some pictures i hadnt noticed i had taken, one specific had a blurred thing in the forest.

When the first rays of sunlight appeared i got dressed, and decided that, in order to prove to myself (and probably to the mental hospital afterwards) i was not insane, i needed proof that i was actually living, actually there, being a demigodess, thats what they called.

Very few people were up already, and i did received some weird looks, it was clear nobody knew me, that was fine, i didnt knew anybody either.

I walked around taking some pictures, sometimes getting lost, but everything amazed me, the forest, the cabins, the stables, i found the entrance to a beach too, and then i got to the training area, aparently, i stayed far away, god forbid i woke up from this nightmare with a spear in my head, oh no, that would be bad.

Openning my camera i zoomed in the people, my speciality, it was sweet, seeing them trully smile, and not pretend for the picture, it was a genuine feeling the camera would keep forever, i zoomed around other peoples faces, but my camera focused on a face i could never forget, and she looked back at me, and realized i was there, but not that i was me, because she came towards me with a angry look.

Ill admit, the look scared me as hell, so much i tried to pretend i was never taking pictures of her, i slightly changed the angle and kept my face hidden behind the camera.

Do i need to say that did not fucking worked? No? Thank you.

"Who the fuck do you think you are taking random pictures of pe-"

She yanked my camera off of me mid sentence and stopped completely, looking like she had seen a ghost for some seconds.

"(Y/n)?"

"Clari?"

"How- what are you doing here!?"

She asked, with a worried look, still kind of confused, she did this look since we were little girls, and for a moment i had a big deja vu.

Two little girls running around, playing all day, telling each other secrets and stories, running to hug each other eveytime they were close, i still saw that girl in her eyes, but by her previous look, she did not.

"What am i doing here? What are YOU doing here? One day you dissapear without a trace, and your family said you went to a new school even though it was the summer, and now i find you sparring with a spear? You are that too? A demigoddes, i mean?"

I spoke fast, nervous, as if my time in the world with her would end just as it did once.

Instead of responding me right away, clarisse did something that maybe would scare every single soul she knew in the past years.

She hugged me. Hard.

Breathing me in, and not letting me go exactly as you would expect of someone who hasnt seen me in years.

"I couldnt tell you anything... it wouldnt be safe...im sorry, i missed my friend... i missed you."

I just looked at her for some seconds, and then hugged her again, this time i was the one making it extra tight, i was the one going insane by the reconforting smell of her shampoo, praying that she couldnt feel my heartbeats against her chest, and how strong they were.

"Just.. dont leave me again okay? And ill forgive you, i promisse"

[inbloomwriting]

Everything to me - Chapter 2

Chapter two - Blueberry & Kidney Bean

Chapter 1

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.6k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. I tagged everyone who asked me to do it when I posted part 1. Please let me know if you want to be taken off or added to the taglist. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

The store smells like dust and cardboard and old carpet. It's not necessarily a bad smell, it just doesn't live up to her memories.

She remembers the perpetual scent of menthol cigarettes and some kind of cheap men's perfume wafting through the air. The store used to smell like her dad and now it doesn't. And that just makes it all even more real.

Boxes upon boxes litter the room, filled with records. Some older, some newer. Guitars adorn one wall while the others are covered in posters from tours that happened long ago, some even before she was born.

There is something comforting about being here. It’s like stepping back into the past. Long nights watching Dad and his friends play their guitars after store-closing. Discovering new bands whenever a new shipment of records came in. And yes - she is the first to admit that in her younger years, she mostly chose the records by how cool the cover looked. 

It’s also memories of Dad getting caught up in the after-hours jam sessions and forgetting about her dance recital and that one time he threw a guitar at the window out of anger that a shipment of records got lost. It took him months to get the window replaced. She could probably still trace exactly where the crack used to be. 

Being here is very reminiscent in all the good and bad ways. But it’s a warped version of the past. One that’s laced with all the knowledge she has now. Like a movie that you’ve seen a million times.

“I don’t think pregnant women are supposed to be doing that!” 

Jamie’s voice cuts through the nostalgia-induced fog like a sunbeam through the clouds. And it also gives her a little heart attack as the only sound filling the room up until now had been her moving around and the soft tunes of an Eric Clapton record playing in the background.

“Jesus fuck! You scared me. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to startle pregnant women either and give them heart attacks.” 

He looks at her with those big expressive eyes of his and a comically overdone pout on his lips. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But seriously give me that.” 

He’s so quick to take the box of records from her hands (Y/N) hardly has time to process what’s going on. 

Quite honestly, his worry is a bit misplaced here but she appreciates the sentiment even if he might be a little overly cautious at that moment. It feels nice to be cared for. 

“You know I’m pregnant, not sick, right? I can carry stuff.” 

“Yeah but why would you if you got me carrying it for you?” 

He has a point, she has to give him that. 

“Fair enough. Those go over there in the corner please.” 

Jamie follows her order without hesitation and, after setting the box down in its designated place, his eyes dart across the room and light up with childlike wonder and curiosity.

“This used to be your dad’s place, yeah? It looks really neat with all them posters and shit. Like stepping into an old person’s mind but like a cool old person that buys you alcohol when you’re 15 and lets you watch horror movies when your mum said no.” 

Of all the adjectives in the world, (Y/N) wouldn’t ever think of using the word “cool” to describe her dad. He was creative and fun and eccentric and stubborn — but cool? 

Then again he was her dad and no one ever likes to think of their own parents as cool. Oh god, will their kid think she’s uncool?! 

“Uh yeah, the shop and the apartment right above us. He owned it, now I do. I’m trying to get it all fixed up and ready to be sold.”

“What? Why?” 

There is something to be said about Jamie’s face and his absolute inability to mask his emotions. Everything he thinks and feels is mirrored twice as vividly on his face. He’s all furrowed brows and pouty lips. 

“I mean — it’s a record store. People don’t really buy records anymore. Be honest, when was the last time you bought one instead of just streaming the music?” 

“Like two weeks ago.” 

“Fuck off, no you didn’t!” 

“Uh — yeah, I did. Olivia Rodrigo if you must know.” 

A soft giggle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. How fitting for Jamie to buy an album full of teenage angst. 

“Well, you’re one of very few people though. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to sell. I’d keep it open. Instead of selling instruments, it’d turn that part of the shop into a little stage with a coffee counter or a bar. Host open mic nights and shine a spotlight on undiscovered artists. But the world isn’t perfect and there is no way I can afford to turn that vision into reality so really there’s no use in letting myself get too caught up in it.” 

There is pity in his eyes and she hates it. She doesn’t want pity, not his or anyone else’s. Has seen enough of it, especially lately. If she had received just one more “Sorry for your loss” card in the mail from relatives she hadn’t seen in decades, she probably would’ve stabbed a fork in her own eye. Pity does no good to no one. 

“Anyway, Jamie. Not that I don’t enjoy hanging out with you, it’s kind of necessary if we want to get this whole beings-friends-thing right, but uh — what are you doing here?” 

“Jesus, can’t a guy just come around to say hi to his baby? “ 

She thinks the way he says the word “Baby” in his thick accent is surprisingly and undeniably adorable. As if it ends in an “eh” instead of a “y”.

“By the way, they’re as big as a blueberry now.” 

And the way he’s keeping track of the baby's growth gets her right in the heart. For some reason, this seems to come so naturally to him when it all still feels weird and foreign and surreal to her. As if it were happening to someone else and she’s just a mere spectator. The idea that something as small as a blueberry will one day turn into a proper baby, a child, a teenager … a whole ass adult - is so wild to her. Almost incomprehensible. A person with their own feelings and dreams and personality. (Y/N) wonders if at any point in this pregnancy, she'll wake up and it'll all just make sense or if that only comes once she's holding the baby in her arms.

“That's cute. Doesn't answer my question though. What brings you here?”

A shadow of something flickers across Jamie’s face. Something unreadable and unfamiliar. Something that makes (Y/N) feel a sense of dread bubbling up in her stomach.

“I uh — I can’t do this.”

And there it is. That unfamiliar shadow is now a metaphorical atom bomb, a mushroom cloud of all that could have been and won’t be.

“Oh okay. I mean no, not okay. This sucks actually. You said you wanted to be part of the baby’s life and now you’re bailing? That’s a shit move, Jamie. You’re a right prick for pulling that crap.” 

“What? Oh no!” his eyes widen as the realization sets in. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Well then what did you mean? Cause you’re truly giving me a heart attack right now. Second one for today. You really need to start working on your conversation starters.” 

She had given him the chance to opt out of being a dad, to not be a part of the baby’s life. It seemed like the right thing to do and, foolishly, (Y/N) had believed that she’d be okay with him doing just that. In this very moment though, she feels everything but okay. The idea of Jamie changing his mind is terrifying. 

Sometimes you don’t realize just how much you need something — or someone until you’re faced with the possibility of losing them.

“I mean, I can’t do this alone. I need to tell someone. All I keep thinking about is the baby and I feel like I am going to explode any second now. I know we can’t tell everyone yet ‘cause of — well you know, things going wrong and stuff. But I need to tell someone. You got to tell Rebecca and your mum, I think it’s only fair I get to tell two people as well, yeah?”

A sense of relief floods her. Starts in her toes and fills her all the way to the top of her head. He wants this — wants the baby. It’s not just her in this. It’s nice to know you have someone in your corner. It’s also scary. Because he deserves to know just whose team he’s on. And being vulnerable fucking sucks. 

“Jamie, that’s fine. Absolutely you can tell your mum.” 

“And Simon? You got two people so — “

“I didn’t though.” 

“Uh yes, you did. I know you told Rebecca.” 

“That’s right.”

“And your mum too”.

The silence that follows his words is deafening. Being vulnerable means also admitting guilt. It means owning up to all of your mistakes. Though we are not the sum of our mistakes, they are what help shape the person we become. And (Y/N) really doesn’t think they make her a very good one.

“And your mum too?” 

More silence.

“You didn’t tell your mum? Why not? “

To his credit, Jamie looks truly surprised and confused. There is no judgment there, just absolute bewilderment and that signature softness that rounds out his features and settles in his eyes whenever Jamie talks to her about something serious. Granted they’ve not had that many conversations but she hopes that softness stays. She hopes that maybe their baby can have those soft, gentle eyes too.

“I’m not sure. I think I’m scared. My mum and I have a — complicated relationship. I disappoint her, she judges me. You know, the usual.” 

“You think she’ll be disappointed because we're having a baby? Is it because of me?”

(Y/N) shrugs, breaking eye contact and fixing her gaze on the old grey carpet with the ugly 90s pattern. What if those soft eyes can look straight through her, see all the ugly parts and the insecurities? That’s too scary for now. Too much too soon.

“No, it has nothing to do with you. Think she’ll just be disappointed I didn’t get pregnant according to the timeline she dreamed up for my life when I was like 2 years old. Had it all planned out for me and I never stuck to it.” 

Jamie is quiet for a moment but (Y/N) doesn’t dare to look back up at him. She can’t deal with any more pity.

“Well if you want to practice telling a mum, we can start with mine.”

“Huh?” 

“You can come to Manchester with me if you want. To tell my mum. We’ll have one mum down then, makes it easier to do it a second time. It’s science.” 

Jamie has the fascinating quality of making you believe in his words just by being so undeniably charming and because he believes in them himself. He makes it look easy when it is everything but.

“And if things don’t go well with your mum at least you’ll know you have at least one mum you can rely on, even if it’s not your own. She raised me pretty much by herself so she knows a thing or two about babies and parenting and stuff.” 

The mocking raise of (Y/N)’s right eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by Jamie who opens his lips to a silent gasp and clutches his chest with an overly dramatic gesture. 

“What? You saying I didn’t turn out perfectly?”

“No,” she laughs, a lightness festering in her chest. Like the first rays of sunshine after a cold winter that never seemed to end. Like a glass of wine after a long day at work. Like your favorite song on the radio at the exact moment you need it most. “I think you turned out exactly the way you were supposed to.” 

“Thanks,” Jamie says with that cheeky smile playing on his lips that makes him look a little younger than he actually is. Then he dares to wink at her and it’s a little annoying but also insanely charming. “Not sure you meant it as a compliment but I am taking it. Now when are you free for a trip up to Manchester?” 

(Y/N)’s been on a lot of road trips around the country when she was younger. She’s even spent a whole summer traveling Europe, partially by train but most of the time was spent stuffed in a Fiat Punto with 3 of her friends and all their luggage. It was stuffy, it was chaotic and it was immensely fun. None of those road trips ever involved a shiny black Aston Martin Rapide though. 

Or a famous footballer dressed in the ugliest lime green sweater (Y/N) has ever seen. 

“That’s all the luggage you got?” Jamie questions as he moves the black shades off of his eyes and sets them on the top of his head, holding back some of his hair. It shouldn’t work so well but it does. 

“I mean, we’re only staying for a night right? Why? Should I have brought more? How much did you pack?” 

He glances at her, then towards the car, and back at her. A sheepish look crosses his face before being replaced by his childlike cheekiness. “That’s confidential. Don’t worry about it, yeah?” 

“I got my ginger lollies, that’s all that matters really.” 

“You feeling alright?” 

“Mh, I’m good. Just pregnant.” 

His eyes drop down to her stomach for just a second before he nods his head in what (Y/N) can only describe as a mix of pride and satisfaction. “Yeah, you are.” 

That’s new. Well not new-new but it hasn’t happened since the day of the funeral. That tingly feeling in her stomach that has fuck all to do with the baby and everything with how the baby got there. Yes, Jamie is hot and (Y/N) is the first to admit as much but there has been so much stress and chaos and she hardly had time to think about anything but surviving and making sure not to completely lose herself in bad visions of what-ifs that her brain has had no time to process any feelings of arousal or lust. That look he just gave her though, that one made her remember it for just a second.

“You sure you’re alright?” 

Jamie’s voice shakes her from her daydream and brings her back to the real world, her eyes focusing back on the obscene car parked in front of her tiny apartment building looking so insanely out of place.

“Uh yes, I’m fine. I just — sometimes I forget that you’re famous.” 

Jamie regards her for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and grabbing the bag from her hands. “I don’t. It’s fun. Now come on, let’s goooooo.” 

His voice is dipped in excitement and there’s a bounce in his step. If this is how the prospect of seeing his mother makes him feel and behave, she must be one lovely woman. Whenever (Y/N) thinks of her own mother her chest fills with tiny metaphorical icicles. Sharp and rough and painful. It’s all regret and judgment and disapproval. It’s “You gained weight”, “you look tired”, and “You should really look into getting a new job”. Daggers disguised as roses. Stabs right to the heart in the name of being honest. “I just care about you, because I love you, because I am your mother!” 

If there is one thing (Y/N) knows for sure, it’s that she will never ever find the need to resort to criticism and thinly veiled malice in order to show her child that she cares. They will know. Every single day. Because she’ll make sure to show them. Every single day in all the big and tiny ways a person can show their love. 

“Kidney Bean?”

“Kidney Bean. And apparently, the baby is sprouting webbed fingers and toes right now. Oh, and it’s starting to move!” 

“Can you feel that?” 

“No, not yet.” 

“It’s mental. Last week she was the size of a blueberry and now she’s a kidney bean. Kid’s growing up too fast.” 

It’s true. There is so much happening all at once and it’s almost impossible to really process it all. Suddenly there is a tiny spark of a human inside her. Not really a baby yet but a baby to her. And it's moving and developing and changing every second of every day. Fucking insane.

“Wait … you said she. You think it’s a girl?”

Maybe it’s the sunlight casting a glow through the windshield but (Y/N) is almost certain she can just about make out a blush dusting Jamie’s cheeks. 

“Dunno.”

“Jamie Tartt, do you want to be a girl dad?” 

He glances at (Y/N) through the corner of his eyes for just a moment but it’s enough for her to see the sincerity in him. This is something he’s thought about before. Learning new things about Jamie is fascinating.

“Ah,  it’s stupid, really. It’s — It’s dumb or whatever.” 

“No, come on, don't go shy on me now. Tell me.” 

He takes a deep breath. A moment passes then another. There is no rush. Sometimes silly thoughts are the result of harsh truths. 

“Told you my dad was a prick. Like the biggest piece of shit walking this earth, yeah? And I knew that all my life. Thing is I still tried to impress him. I just — I wanted him to like me so badly. Just felt wrong that me own dad didn’t care about me and that made me angry. And I kept that anger inside me for so long. Sometimes when I think about the baby and the future I am scared that if I have a son that anger will jump over to him. Like maybe all Tartt men are cursed or some shit like that. But if I had a little girl maybe that would make it easier for me to be a good dad. I don’t mind either way, obviously, but the idea of having a son scares me.” 

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been with her so far and by the way he clenches his jaw and grabs onto the steering wheel just a little tighter, (Y/N) can tell this isn’t easy on him. It means a lot that he shares this part of him with her anyway. It feels like they are actually becoming friends. So opening up to him in return is only half as horrifying. 

“When I was a kid, maybe 11 or 12, I wrote a short story for school and I won an award. They did this big ceremony thing where the 3 finalists got to read their stories out loud for an audience and then receive their prizes. My mum didn’t show up, not sure if it was because she stayed longer at the office and didn’t care enough to leave on time or if she just didn’t feel like getting out of the house. Point is, she wasn’t there. When I came home that night I was sad, obviously, and I was also pissed. Because why the fuck couldn’t she take one night off to come see me succeed at something even if it wasn’t something she deemed worthy of praise. 

So I yelled at her and I’m sure I said some hurtful things. But I was so devastated and angry and I needed an outlet for once. She called me ungrateful but I was used to that, she always called me ungrateful. Then she looked at me with that look of absolute resignation and malice and she said that she hopes I have a daughter like me one day and that she makes me realize how hard it is to love me. 

When I think of the baby, sometimes I see a little girl too. One that I will love so much she never has to doubt it for a single second. And I will also prove my mother wrong. Because it will be so easy to love my little girl and it would’ve been so easy to love me, her little girl.” 

It’s the first time she’s ever said those words out loud. Truly, (Y/N) had not expected for them to come out in an Aston Martin, on the way to meet her baby’s father’s mother but life doesn’t seem to care for plans very much these days.

Softly, as if to not startle her, Jamie places his hand on hers, squeezing gently.

“I think your mum is a right bitch.” 

“Thanks. I think your dad is a huge asshole.” 

“We’re gonna be better than them, right?” 

It’s not really a question. It’s more of a promise.

“We will. I know it.”

His hand doesn’t leave hers for a good long while. 

The nerves don’t hit her until they pull up to the quaint little house with the white front. There’s a rose bush to the side and some kids playing football just across the way. The nerves don’t hit her until Jamie puts the car in park but when they do, they hit her like a freight train.

“Woah, you alright?” 

“Huh?” 

“You look all pale and like you’ve seen a ghost or something. Do you have to puke?”

A chuckle falls from her lips at the absurdity of it all. In all honesty, she’s not met a lot of parents yet but the few she did meet were parents of actual partners. People she had been dating for a while. It was a natural progression of steps. This is all wrong and sideways and topsy-turvy. You’re supposed to meet the mum first and then get pregnant. 

Again with the life and the plans. 

“I’m fucking nervous.” 

“Hah,” Jamie laughs. The audacity of this guy. “You’re nervous to meet my mum? Why? She’s an angel.”

“Do you not know how intimidating that is? Like, if she was shit I wouldn’t care but she sounds wonderful and I want her to like me. No, I need her to like me. Desperately. And I can only imagine what she thinks of me already. Some floozy who gets knocked up and really just wants your money.” 

Before she even fully realizes what’s happening, (Y/N) feels Jamie’s hands on her cheeks, framing her face in warmth.

“Calm down, please. I promise it’ll be alright. My mum will love you, I know it. Probably more than she loves me. Actually no that’s a lie, but she will love you and she will love our baby. Promise.”

“She’s not gonna judge me for — you know. Getting pregnant even though we’re not dating or anything.” 

“My mum was married to my dad, worst person on planet Earth. Don’t think she’s in any position to judge you. It’ll be alright, trust me.” 

She hardly knows this man and yet she can’t help but do just that. Trust him.

The first thing (Y/N) notices about Georgie is her smile. A smile that is so familiar because it looks exactly like Jamie’s smile. Warm and radiant and true. A part of (Y/N) hopes that their baby inherits that same smile. Partially because it’s a really good smile and partially because maybe that could help Jamie realize that he is more than the sum of his father’s problems and mistakes. He is all his mother’s boy.

“Oh, I missed you, my baby.” 

Georgie wraps her arms around Jamie’s middle, getting swallowed by his frame for a moment. There’s no denying that part of (Y/N)’s heart breaks a little seeing how loving of a relationship these two have and wondering where she and her own mother went wrong.

And as it so happens with so many kids that have never been loved quite the way they deserved, (Y/N) can’t help but search for the problem in herself. 

“Yeah sorry for not visiting earlier. You know how it is with training and stuff.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I know my boy is busy being a star.” 

The words hold a slight mocking, never mean but in the way that only people who are close can tease each other. You know every word comes laced with deep affection, with pride, with love.

“And it’s so nice to meet you too. I’m Georgie.” 

It takes a second for (Y/N) to realize that Jamie’s mum is now talking to her directly.

“I uh — oh thank you. Nice to meet you too, I’m (Y/N).” 

Georgie smells like mint chewing gum and floral perfume as she pulls (Y/N) into a hug. She’s soft and gentle and it’s been the first hug from a mother (Y/N) has received in quite some time.

“Sorry, didn’t even ask if you’re a hugger.”

“Oh that’s alright, don’t worry about it.” 

She’s not a hugger, never really was, but there is something about Georgie granting her some affection that isn’t all that bad. Maybe their kid can have at least one grandmother who cares and who isn’t completely disgusted by the idea of showing any kind of positive emotions.

“Jamie never brings girlfriends around so I’m a bit out of my element here if I’m being honest.” 

“Mum we’re not — she’s not.” Jamie takes a big breath before starting again “(Y/N) and I are friends, yeah? Told you about it on the phone.” 

“Right, right. Well, you don’t bring around a lot of friends either so same difference, really. Now come inside will you, I’m sure we got a lot to catch up on.”

Oh if only she knew how true that sentiment really is.

There are pictures of Jamie staring back at (Y/N) from every corner of the house and Georgie leads them through the hallway and towards the kitchen. Every wall and every shelf holds a memory of him at one point in his life. Gap toothed with a football in hand smiling, surrounded by a field of tulips arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulder, his teenage self smoldering at the camera with an even more questionable haircut than the one he is sporting right now. Oh to be loved in a way that every past version of you is being remembered.

As they reach the kitchen a sweet scent fills the room when a man clad in an apron turns around and faces them with a huge smile playing on his face. He has a dorky kind of charm to him that immediately puts you at ease. Maybe it’s just the frilly apron, maybe it’s the big oven gloves, maybe it’s the smile. Either way, (Y/N) thinks that if they take the news well, her kid might have truly lucked out on one side of the grandparents department. 

“Jamie, welcome home.” 

“Hi Simon, thanks, mate. Glad to be back. This is (Y/N).” 

“The friend, right.” Simon says and shoots Georgie a look that neither of them misses. Subtlety doesn’t seem to be one of his best qualities. “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you too. It smells amazing in here.” 

“I found this new recipe for honey blondies. Not sure if they'll be any good but I guess we'll find out. If you guys want to go have a seat, I'll come bring them over.”

“Actually,” Jamie speaks up while nervously fiddling with his hands. “I was hoping we could have a talk before we do anything else. There’s something I need to tell you both.” 

Imagining the hypothetical scenario of telling your mum you’re having a baby and actually doing it really are two completely different things it seems. Gone is all of Jamie’s confidence and replaced with a whole lot of anxiety. 

“You're worrying me, Jamie. What has you acting so serious? Did you get someone pregnant or something?”

Georgie's words are followed by a thick awkward silence. It's heavy and suffocating and it makes (Y/N) feel uneasy in both her heart and her head.

It doesn't take long for Jamie’s parents to realize what his silence means. Everything communicated by not saying a single word.

“Oh, fuck.”

And there's nothing to add to Georgie's reaction. It's the exact same one (Y/N) had when she first saw those faint blue lines.

Of all the possible outcomes and ways this day could’ve gone, (Y/N) had not expected to find herself staring at not only a curly-haired Roy Kent but also come face to face with two very persuasive arguments belonging to no other than Keeley fucking Jones. 

“This is surreal.” 

The posters stare back at her all crinkled paper and bleached ink, as if to mock her silently. 

“Ah, well I told them to redecorate when I moved out, think they just haven’t gotten around to it yet.” 

A light dusting of pink settles on the apples of Jamie’s cheeks as well as the tips of his ears. This man can’t hide his emotions for the life of him. It’s quite adorable really. 

“Do they know?” 

“Does who know?” 

“Roy and Keeley. Do they know you have their pictures up in your room?”

“Well no and It’s not my room anymore, is it? ‘S not like I have ‘em hanging at home. Put these up ages ago.” 

A giggle slips through (Y/N)’s lips at his desperate attempt to talk himself out of this situation. 

“It’s okay, Jamie. I won’t tell.” 

“There’s nothing to tell, alright?” he responds in mock offense before sitting down on his childhood bed next to (Y/N). “Just liked boobs and football and those two were the best those fields had to offer, yeah? Can’t really blame me.” 

“Not much has changed has it?”

He shrugs his shoulders in response “Nah. Still like boobs and football but no way I’d put up a poster of granddad’s ugly mug nowadays.”

From the few times they talked about his job, including his teammates and coaches, (Y/N) was able to gather that Jamie’s relationship with Roy is something special. Odd, but special. Maybe that’s what happens when you end up working with your childhood idol. Either way, no matter how much shit he likes to talk about him, it’s clear that Jamie respects and admires Roy a great deal still.

“And uh — and Keeley?” 

“What about her?” 

“Is she — are you — how are things?” 

She still remembers that crestfallen look on his face on the day of the funeral. That infinite sadness in his eyes. She hadn’t put two and two together at that moment but later that night it all clicked. Keeley was the woman he was in love with, the woman who did not love him back. And while (Y/N) knows that she and Jamie are only bound together by happenstance and fate — if one chooses to believe in that, and that there is nothing romantic about their situation, it does sting a little to know that the man you’re having a baby with is in love with someone else.

“We’re good. We’re friends, think that’s all we’ll ever be. Her and Roy, they’re happy and I don’t want to ruin it for either of them. Keeley and I just were not right together.” 

“And you’re okay with that?” 

He nods his head, a small smile playing on his lips “Yeah, I’m alright with it. If I hadn’t made a fool of myself at the funeral then you and I wouldn’t have — you know, and then we wouldn’t be having a baby. Little Kidney Bean.” 

“That’s true. Your mum seemed excited.” 

“Hah, sorry about her. She can be intense.” 

Intense might be the understatement of the century. It took her approximately 2.3 seconds to get over the initial shock of the announcement and really process it before Georgie let out a scream of pure excitement and joy and wrapped both Jamie and (Y/N) up in her arms. She didn’t fully let go for a good 20 minutes. It was intense. It was also phenomenal.

“Don’t apologize. I am so glad she took it so well, Simon too. At least now I’ll have the certainty that my baby will have one set of loving grandparents at least.” 

“Hey,” Jamie says and nudges her shoulder with his “We’ll sort out telling your mum next, okay. I’m sure it’ll go better than you think. And if not we can always call up my mum for some more hugs and a pep talk. Whatever happens, you won’t have to do it alone. I promise.” 

For what is probably the first time in her life (Y/N) lets herself believe that there truly is someone else having her back, undisputedly and all the way. It’s unfamiliar. It’s a little scary. It’s also wonderful.

“Thanks, Jamie. I appreciate it, I really do. Think so far we’re doing alright, huh?” 

“I’d say so. Two sexy parents and a little Kidney Bean.” 

Their laughter echoes through Jamie’s childhood bedroom for quite a while longer until at some point it stills and gives room to soft breathing and quiet snores. The bed isn’t meant for two grown adults and really Jamie truly meant to sleep on the couch but somewhere between talks of baby clothes and childhood memories, eyes grew heavy and tired, and soon enough both of them are fast asleep.

Just them and their little Kidney Bean 

— and a curly-haired Roy Kent 

— and Keeley’s boobs.

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[lazywitchling]

[This is a fictionalized account of something that was communicated between myself and J, my familiar spirit. For storytelling / convenience / communication's sake, I will write it out as a conversation with words as if he were a person standing next to me, but the reality of it was less tangible and more... woo-woo. While dialog is fictional, the message that was communicated is accurate.]

--

I had my recently purchased copper pendulum in the pocket of my work jacket, and was fiddling with it in stolen moments in between stocking the walk-in cooler. I wasn't divining with it, just playing with it like a fidget toy. I had a theory about the conductivity of copper being good for communication with spirits, and judging by how apparent J was making himself, the theory was pretty sound.

"Some materials are easier for me to touch than others," he said. "Metal, stones, sticks, feathers, seeds..."

"Natural materials," I summarized.

"Sort of, but not always." It didn't exactly explain much, and my confusion was evident. So J continued with an explanation. "Show me what's in your pockets."

I pulled out two of my pocket trinkets, knowing which ones he meant. In one pocket, a small potato that had fallen onto the deli floor. A good thing to have on me to absorb unwanted 'bad vibes', of which there were many in retail. In the other pocket, a plastic d20. Not a nice one, just the generic blue one from the starter kit, so that I wouldn't be sad if it fell out of my pocket.

J 'pinged' the potato first. A nice spiritual reverberation, a sharp crack like a heeled shoe hitting a marble floor. Then he pinged the d20. A dull thud, more like a boot in mud.

"So... natural materials," I repeated.

Head shake. He indicated a wooden crate on the shelf I was stocking, then gave me an image of one of the plastic action figures on my bookshelf at home. "The action figure is easier to touch than the crate."

He'd lost me now. I was trying to figure out what the copper pendulum had to do with an action figure.

"It isn't necessarily the materials," he explained. "Natural material is one factor, yes. But narrative is also a material."

"So... my Caduceus Clay figure isn't magically resonant because he's made of plastic, but is beause he's also made of story?"

Somewhere in woo-woo land, I got the sensation of the little bell and woosh sound of a character level up in an RPG, and approval from J. The idea started clicking into place less like a slow conversation now and more like a file upload.

I had a plastic Yoda figurine that I found in my basement. He had long ago lost his robe and walking stick. The painted details on him had started to fade a long time ago. But I decided he was my Lucky Yoda, and I carried him in my pocket for every theatrical production I was part of all throughout college. When one of my cast mates was nervous about their role, I would pass Lucky Yoda off to them. 'Here, take Lucky Yoda. He'll help.' Soon enough, people would ask for him for comfort, or start asking about him during tech week to make sure I was going to remember to bring him. On days when I forgot him, the production was worse, even when I didn't mention to anyone that I hadn't brought him.

Was Lucky Yoda more or less powerful than a four leaf clover would have been? Common advice I had seen from other witchy sources said that the closer an item is to its natural state, the more powerful it will be. A tree has more power than a log which has more power than lumber which has more power than a picnic table. By this logic, Lucky Yoda should have been far removed from any sort of magic. But there was no denying that he had an effect on myself and my cast mates. (Whether or not this effect was magical or psychological is not something I'm here to debate. Believe me or don't. I'm not your priest.) A clover would have had more 'nature' magic to it, sure. But Yoda had story, and that story gave him power. J might not have been able to 'ping' Lucky Yoda as well as a clover just by nature of its materials, but the narrative of him was something that J could ping.

The ethereal concept of 'story' seemed to have a more concrete physical substance in the world of spirits. And I am reminded of the folklore that angels or fairies cannot be creative, and that the ability to create is uniquely human, a little spark of the divine in us. And in the world of spirits where everything is intangible, why wouldn't the intangible nature of a story be just as concrete as everything else in their world?

"Now you're getting it."

I found myself standing stock-still in the cooler at work, staring blankly at a half-unloaded cardboard box of packaged soup while the vaguely blob-like form of a spirit bounced happily at his student's understanding.

I shook my head off and got back to unloading. "So... story: good conductor. Copper: good conductor. Plastic: bad conductor."

"Plastic without care and creativity, yes." J gave me the image of a flimsy, shitty, plain dollar store pencil box. One of those ones where the plastic didn't form correctly, so there's little bits of sharp plastic that you can break off of the edges. "If there's anything you don't want me to touch, you can put it in one of these. But don't put stickers on it, otherwise it starts to get easier."

"I think I get it. Thanks! Here, would you like some soup?" I place a plain plastic container of soup up on the shelf.

"Ha ha."

[eekitseve]

Chapter one of my charpim fanfic below the cut :) just in time for Christmas in July! will upload to ao3 in a few days once I get my account

Charlie was definitely more of a New Year’s guy.

The “new year, new me” leaves a length of time between Christmas and the beginning of the following year to act out, to be someone else, and to do stupid shit. It’s right between needing to be good for Santa and having the slate cleaned for the new year.

New Year’s Eve was a blast for Charlie (almost) every time. Charlie, for one thing, knew how to have a good time. He knew enough people who hosted annual parties. He knew enough people who knew how to get into the big ones, the exclusive ones, the absolutely nuts ones. He never had to worry about New Year’s Eve plans— it was a reliable holiday where he could lose his shit and be forgiven the next morning by the world. Alongside Saint Patty’s day, he could get black out drunk and not be seen as a loser for a day. He could be a blunt, wreckless version of himself that night and have no repercussions from it save for a monumental hangover the following day.

Of course, none of this logic was true. You get false confidence to send a few stupid texts, fight a few people, maybe kiss a stranger or two-- but once the night’s over, you’re the same person who did all those things. It was you the whole time, and it never changed. You might say you’ll be better the next day (or next year), but it being a new year doesn’t change you. Once that year long timer comes back to the last few hours, you do it all again.

Pim was more favorable of Christmas.

Instead of living in the moment, he thought of his future. He reminisced on his past to what might be an unhealthy amount. He was a Romantic; he felt nostalgic for a time he remembers differently than how it happened, and he daydreams for a life he will likely only partially succeed in achieving. His goals are always slightly askew; trying to relive a past that didn’t actually happen a certain way, or trying to work towards something that he’s only seen in several tacky romance movies.

That might be why he likes Christmas so much; every Christmas was recorded on awful home video VHS’s, and sure, there would be arguing, but he’d be right there on camera, smiling and enjoying Christmas like he should. He would watch them sometimes when he came home. Who cared if his dad was cursing out his mom in the back of the video? He’d just skip those parts and reminisce on how cool he thought the nerf gun set he got that year was. He’d skip past the part where he shot his older brother in the eye and they started brawling on the floor. He’d skip past the parts on the tape where it was him in highschool, despondent, confused, and scared with the added touch of his new baby sister screaming the whole tape. He would usually go until he hit the Christmas before he moved out. He always stopped the fast forward when he recognized the scene-- blue tinsel on the tree, their old house in Adelaide, Australia, and probably the last time he was as close with his family as he was. For a while after that, the tapes weren’t as charming. First off, he wouldn’t be there until a few years later when his family moved to the US. Not to mention, he could remember the rest of them vaguely.

Maybe Pim and Charlie’s preferred holidays showed some deep facet of their personalities, maybe not.

Regardless of what holiday they liked better for whatever unspoken reason, both critters were excited to leave the office once their clocks struck 5. They didn’t have a timeclock, no, but Mr. Boss remained on company grounds until the shift officially ended; he was dedicated, and he ensured his workers were, too. This meant skipping out early was unlikely. Very unlikely.

Especially on the last shift right before their holiday vacation started.

Of course, the concept of holiday vacation was something new. Since a certain OSHA non-compliant fatal workplace incident two years ago, Mister Boss began rolling the ball on mandatory holiday PTO. He made an effort to prioritize the health of his workers over a few smiles made during the holidays. Charlie wasn’t gonna deny free PTO, but he did question the logistics of having no one working during the roughest time of the year. He was reassured that they as workers were to be prioritized; if the people making others smile are dead, then how can people smile? It seemed like kind of a half-baked response for the trouble he’d have had to go through to support such a decision, but again, Charlie didn’t want to argue against free PTO.

Allan, Glep, Pim and Charlie all are relaxing in the breakroom now. The hum of the lights are louder and it seems like even the heater is ready for a vacation as it runs colder than it has the past month. Charlie and Pim only had two clients today; one old man who wanted to visit the moon before he died (he was on his deathbed and they staged a quirky performance dressed as aliens to convince him he was there, which only worked because he was high out of his mind on various medications-- he died immediately afterwards), and a super rich guy that needed help picking out a gift for his family that would make them smile and, by association, him too. They went through a classic montage styled time of trying out different gifts, but ultimately giving them each 3.8 million dollars in cheque worked. He gave Charlie and Pim each a lonesome penny to fund their Christmas’s. Pim was endeared. Charlie was not.

They got back with an hour to spare and have hung out since.

Allan squeaks the break room sink faucet on and off a few times. He grumbles.

“The hot wat-err is off againn.” He begins futilely washing his used coffee mug with cold water and a firm sponge.

“Awww, what?! I thought we just got that fixed!” Pim whines.

Glep tunes in and adds context— “aekajjsxhcah ptotuckcakc jvvjwalc cakscjs wjejrw cjcjde totij fusj xockd fjfjs.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Pim responds, surrendering his frustration.

“Yea-hh. I guess Mister Boss is already on it.” Allan replies and continues washing the dish; Pim watches inattentively.

Glep is on his iPad doing important work. “Scouting for frowning faces online” was his excuse on his last self evaluation once it was brought up a third time by Allan.

Charlie was on his computer playing Rust.

Pim sat there, waiting.

Pim was extra excited for the holidays this year. He rarely got to spend time with his family. He felt very lucky that he could spend upwards of a week with them now, even if it was at the expense of Charlie’s life (sort of).

Pim looks over at Charlie. He seems very in his element; he’s a self proclaimed pro-gamer, why wouldn’t he be? Pim wonders if he’s gonna play Rust for the entirety of their break. Charlie mutters a quiet “shit,” and spams his mouse. It’s not enough, apparently, and he groans, releasing himself from the clutches of the computer and leaning back in the chair. Pim looks away.

It’s about seven minutes now until they’re free.

The door opens and Mr. Boss walks in. He sees Charlie gaming and watches for a second silently, only saying “oh, nice” when he gets a good item. Mr. Boss looks up at everyone. “Before you guys go, I’ve got a little somethin’ for ya.”

Mr. Boss pulls out a manilla folder and slaps it down on the breakroom table.

“What is that?” Charlie asks cautiously.

“Oh, just some homework for your vacation!”

They collectively groan.

“Don’t worry, guys!” Mr. Boss pulls thin packets out of the folder and passes them out. “I just want to make sure we get in the holiday spirit! I want everyone to make one person smile before the year ends, heehee!”

Charlie looks at the packet and thumbs through the pages.

“This is like, 7 pages dude. Double sided. This is more than we do for regular clients.”

“Yeeerrrp. It’s actually a paper version of our remote position client completion form.”

“There’s a remote position?” Allan asks— the dish is no longer important.

“Oh, yeah, sillies! We have 372 smiling friends workers working remote around the clock to make people smile! They get to work from wherever they want, choose their own hours, and they even make more than you guys do!”

There’s a moment of silence before everyone seemingly opens their mouth to speak. Mr. Boss is quicker, though.

“Aaaaanyway, I hope you guys have a good vacation! And make sure to fill out the entire packet! Remember, you only have to make one person smile, but you do have to fill out the registration form on the back of page 4 and the release form on page 3 and also the customer satisfaction form on the back for them confirming that they smiled. It’s really not that much!”

Mr. Boss was in the doorway about to leave.

“Wait wait wait wait, Mr. Boss,” Charlie is desperate, “about the remote position--”

“Byeeee guys! Merry Christmas!”

He closes the door.

“And happy new year!” He yells to them, muffled through the door.

Charlie groans and melts into his chair a little.

“I never knew there was a remote position,” Allan confesses.

“Me neither,” Pim mutters a little despondent.

“I… how much more do you think they make?” Allan asks, setting his dish down to dry.

“I dunno. I mean… probably… a good bit more.” Pim answers.

“Well,” Charlie closes his laptop and stands up, “I’m heading out. We have nothing else going on and I haven’t eaten anything all day. Anyone want to go to Spaghetti Disco?”

“That’s fancy,” Pim comments as he scratches at some crud on the table with his finger.

Charlie starts packing his laptop away in its case. “I’m just craving spaghetti, man. Are you in?”

“Yeah, I guess. What about you, Allan and Glep?”

“I guess, sure-uh.”

“jwkewjekjwefsdjkfskdhe.”

“Oh, that’s right, Glep, we were going to go on that movie double date. How could I forget-uh?”

“Oh! What movie?”

“Bimblar Seven. Kickolas Nagé is in it.” Allan rubs at a water droplet mark on his tie.

“Oh, wow! The pro footy player slash pro swimmer slash pro actor?”

“Yeah. I would invite you but I think the tickets are sold out-uh. And it’s a double date.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Pim’s definitely a little bummed out-- “I’ll be getting spaghetti with Charlie, anyway.”

“Okay, well,” Charlie claps, “you ready to go, Pim?”

“Yep!”

“Cool. Uhhhh, see you guys next year then?”

“See ya.”

“Jwejwejkwesdfj.”

“Aight. C’mon, Pim.”

///

Of course spaghetti disco had a bar— and of course the main course Charlie aimed for was some special holiday drink he saw them posting about on social media. He took a seat at the bar before Pim could suggest a booth or maybe a table somewhere.

It’s fine, Pim thinks. Really not the end of the world.

Pim struggles to work his way up on top of the bar stool. When he finally makes it, he’s just a little bit out of breath. Charlie looks over just in time to say, “oh, dude, I could have helped you.”

Pim waves it off with a smile. His shirt is wrestled out from so tightly tucked in his pants. It’s fine, he’s gonna be eating (and presumably drinking the way Charlie wants to take this night) so he may as well leave himself a smidge disheveled.

“You know, Charlie,” Pim tries three or four times to perch his chin on his balled fist comfortably, “I didn’t ask what you’re doing for Christmas. You celebrate, right?”

Their spaghetti arrives and they thank the waitress. It’s in the same cup they use for their drinks; a trademark of Spaghetti Disco. It almost looks like worms, and Pim scrunches his face at it a little.

“Well yeah, I’m Catholic,” Charlie adds pointedly. The bartender slides an Iron City to each of their spots in addtion to Charlie’s Christmas themed drink. They both thank him subtly.

“Well— I wasn’t sure, I mean.. I know a lot of people that are Catholic that don’t practice.”

Charlie throws back a hefty swig of the beer. He grimaces and sets it down. Some of it dribbles down his lip. He steals a sip of the Christmas drink and cringes worse.

“Yeah, but like— here’s the thing, Pim. Christmas is like, not even a holiday anymore dude. It’s like…” Charlie takes off his hat, runs his hand through his hair, and replaces the hat, “it’s just a thing to get people to buy shit now. You know? Like-like I haven’t had, like, a magical—or whatever— Christmas since I was a kid.”

“Oh, Charlie! That’s not fair,” Pim frowns. “You deserve to have a good Christmas again. That’s so sad!”

“No no, Pim, you’re missing the point. I’m saying no one has them anymore once you’re older. Like it’s all just fuckin… matching Christmas pjs at Walmart that you wear like, once… and stuff that kinda just goes on sale and-and they throw away after Christmas because no one fuckin-“ he burps— “Excuse me. No one fuckin wants, like… a fuckin “Ho Ho Ho I’m- there’s a baby on the way!” shirt after, like, Christmas morning. Like it all just gets thrown away.”

He takes a big sip of his drink and a heaping bite of spaghetti, commenting under his breath that it’s hitting the spot. Pim takes the minute to really hear what he has to say.

“Hmm.” Is all he has to reply with at first. Charlie is still chewing, so Pim articulates a better response as he winds up a fork of spaghetti. “You know, I think-I think it’s situational. I think it’s really wonderful in the right situation. Like, the-“

“Like the… Pj’s? And shit?”

“The- yeah. Like, if it’s with the right people.”

Charlie shoots him a suspicious look as he says this.

“What, are you talking about your family? Because-“

And they both talk at once,

“Yeah! I mean, they’re not perfect, but— oh.“

“Because they seemed horrible last time— oh.”

A quiet moment passes. Charlie looks away awkwardly.

“Sorry, Pim.”

“You thought they were horrible?”

“I mean, yeah, man. They were like… fully fucking shooting at each other. With guns. Like that’s…. That’s abnormal. I’d honestly avoid people like that. And try to get the, um, kids out of that situation.”

“Well, yeah, they shouldn’t— I mean I’m not disagreeing with you, but they’re still my family, and it’s not that bad if you just go away when they do it.”

“Pim. That’s not normal. Like- like genuinely, I’d avoid them. That sounds awful. You get to go away, they don’t.”

“But, I still love them, you know? Like, I can’t just… and you know, the kids, too. Like they need to talk to someone, um, normal. Like I think coming by is good for them.”

“Just call, like, CPS.”

“Oh, um- Mister Frog actually got rid of CPS a few months ago.”

“What?” Charlie stops mid bite. “Like- like really?”

“Yeah, he- it was kind of sudden. Um. I think I told you when it happened, like at the office, I guess you didn’t hear me…”

“Yeah, no, I definitely didn’t. That’s awful. I hope those kids’ll be alright.”

With the conversation becoming a bit heavier, they both take a minute to eat. Pim looks at Charlie a lot. At some point, Pim opens his mouth to talk, then closes it. Then,

“So, you’ve got no plans then?” Pim asks.

“I’m gonna get wasted and I’m gonna play some Rust. The patch they just put out should make these idiots running the server I’m on lose everything. It’s gonna be great.”

“Oh. Well, anything else?”

Charlie finishes his beer and it’s replaced with a new one when the bartender passes by. The Christmas drink is being ignored.

“That’s pretty much it.”

“No holiday stuff? At all?”

“Probably gonna find a new years party.”

“Nothing for Christmas. then?”

“Nah, I guess not.”

They both take long gulps of their drink.

“So.” Pim says. He doesn’t make eye contact. “Charlie…”

“Yeah?” Charlie has spaghetti taking up his entire mouth and face. He suffers from late stage spaghetti kid syndrome, evidently.

“Would… so, you don’t have to, and I know you just kind of made your stance clear, but I thought I’d ask…” Pim takes a big breath. “I’m supposed to stay a little over a week at my family’s house for Christmas and I can do it alone, I do every year, but I thought I’d ask because-”

“Pim. No.”

“Oh please, Charlie! Come with me! I promise we can make it fun, it will be a grand adventureee!” He throws his arms up for emphasis.

Charlie crosses his arms.

“No, dude. I’m firm about this. There are a million other things I’d rather do. I’d have to, like, lose my apartment or something.”

Pim frowns and leaves it.

If it’s not meant to be, it’s not meant to be, Pim thinks. No use forcing it.

“Alright. But if you feel super sad and lonely and in need of Christmas cheer text me-“ “I won’t.“ “-because I’m leaving around lunchtime.” “Okay, man.”

They eat the rest of their spaghetti, have a few more drinks, and talk about remote work. They talk a lot about remote work. They both leave for their separate apartments by the end of the night.

//

Charlie, cranky,sits in Pim’s car the next morning, his overnight bag in the back and his snarkiness in full swing. Pim is practically bubbling over in excitement at the wheel.

“I just can’t believe both your power and electricity went out as soon as you got home,” Pim can’t hold back his excitement in his voice. “What are the odds?!”

It was true-- Charlie was only home for a few minutes before everything fizzled out. He’d got a call a few minutes later that the power to his apartment building went out (duh) due to the generator being crushed by a wrecking ball used in nearby construction, so there would be no heating or electricity at his place for at least a week. They didn’t even say sorry-- it was an automated call.

His first move would be to couch surf until then, but his options seemed exhausted before he even began looking. Zoey was in California for a highschool friend’s wedding and Christmas with her family, and her roommates definitely wouldn’t want him staying there alone. His uncle lived all the way over past Pittsburgh, so that was a no. Tyler moved to Pittsburgh too a few months ago after getting let off. He claimed the music scene there was “just better”. Fuck Pittsburgh, Charlie thought more than a few times after getting the news. Everyone’s moving to fuckin’ Pittsburgh.

He could get a motel or hotel or Airbnb or Vrbo or whatever, but with the cost of that he might as well go to Brazil and back all over again. He called Pim and he came to pick him up. He crashed at his place and got hardly any sleep.

Pim’s excitement alongside all of this rubbed him the wrong way.

“Pim, can you not treat this as some awesome thing? For one thing, I had to throw out my groceries this week ‘cause of all this. I had, like, really good leftovers I was looking forward to eating.”

“Oh, Charlie, don’t be like that… we can go to the place it’s from when we get back if that’ll make you feel better. My family’s probably gonna cook food all week for us, too, and maybe you can take home some leftovers if you’d like!”

Charlie groans.

“That’s not the point though, man. I just wanted to go home and relax. This year has been nothing but chaos and I think I deserve to just do what I want for a little.”

Especially when the only reason we have this break is because I literally died, he nearly adds, but he bites his tongue.

Pim is quiet. He would hardly call playing Rust relaxing the way he’s seen Charlie react to it, but to each their own he supposes. He tries to think of solutions.

“Well, I mean, you could just take whatever time we have left outside of activities to play video games, or watch your shows or whatever it is you do to relax.”

“Yeah but Pim, that’s the thing, I want to do that and only that. Not that and- and activities, I just wanna relax man.”

“Oh, it will be fun, Charlie!” Pim nudges Charlie with his elbow. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“I would and I am.”

//

They drive for about an hour, stopping for coffee at Wawa on the way. It helps, but the annoyance of the whole situation still grates on Charlie, and the looping track of “Dooty Da” on the radio doesn’t help. Charlie decides that it has lost its charm and he turns down the dial.

“If I’m forced to go along with all this, then I’m choosing the music. ‘Kay?”

“Yeah, sure, I can listen to whatever.”

Charlie pulls out the filthy old phone adapter cord for the company car (the end where it plugs into the phone is bent and worn so bad the wire is exposed) and he sloppily plugs his phone into the AUX.

“Alright, uhhhhhh… how much longer do we have on the drive?”

“Hmm? Oh, um… another half hour, I’d say.”

“Okay, Pim, you gotta listen to this. Like really listen. It’s like a yearly tradition for me to listen to this album.”

Pim’s interested now.

“And you haven’t shown me this before?” He fiddles with the seam of the leather steering wheel.

“Nah, it’s like- you gotta listen to the whole thing if you’re gonna listen...”

“Yeah, alright! Put it on, yeah.”

Charlie sits through around 12 seconds of two different Youtube ads, skipping as soon as he could.

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas…”

“Oh, it’s Christmas music! This sounds pleasant!”

“This is the most recent one that came out last year. Every year he writes a new one and adds it to the album. I’m waiting on this year’s.”

“Who is this?”

“Uhh, Mac Demarco. His stuff is amazing, man. Seriously, he’s like, an idol of mine.”

Pim’s happy to see Charlie a little happier. The next song comes on and Pim subtly bops his head to it.

“This one’s a little creepy, haha.”

Charlie takes a big sip of his coffee. “Yea, he’s got range.”

They listen to the music some more and comment on a dog they see in a passing car. Some flurries start up as they take the exit off the highway and ease into the suburbs. House after house is decorated in elaborate Christmas decorations that Pim excitedly gawks at and points to, to which Charlie feels his blood pressure heighten. The further they go outbound, the less fancy the light displays are. There are more of those silly inflatable yard decorations, now. Then, it eases into maybe a few strings on a hedge, or maybe a partially driven over blow mold decoration arrangement, glowing Santas beaming at Charlie and Pim as they drive by.

The album lasts them the rest of the car ride. They talk over some songs and Charlie shushes him for others. When they reach the familiar apartment complex, Charlie seems to be in a better mood overall. Pim makes a mental note to let Charlie DJ in the future.

They pull into the back and see Pim’s mother smoking on the back porch. The flurries have calmed entirely to a flake here and there and there’s a thin layer of snow over everything, replenishing what melted the previous day.

The two get out of the car and she sees them.

“PIMOTHY!”

Pim’s mother snubs her cigarette quickly and rushes over in her pink slippers. She wraps Pim in a big hug, swaying him a little. Charlie goes to grab their bags, and when he comes back, they’re talking about so many different things so quickly Charlie has trouble keeping up. He accidentally makes eye contact with Pim’s mom, who, almost as if she were waiting for a cue, swoops Charlie into a hug.

“Oh, uh,” Charlie doesn’t hug back. He’s visibly uncomfortable.

“How are you, sweetheart? Are you keeping Pim under control?”

Charlie pauses. He realizes he has an opportunity to be very funny and also get revenge on Pim.

“Oh, you know. He’s all mixed up in trouble at the office,” he deadpans.

“What?!”

“Oh he didn’t tell you? Yeah, Pim’s been really into getting up to unprofessional scandalous stuff at work. He brings women in all the time--”

Pim’s contented expression watching the family bonding unfold quickly morphs into one of confusion, then horror.

“HAH! Charlie’s joking,” and he pushes at Charlie’s belly to separate the two. He looks at Charlie desperately. “Right, Charlie?”

“Yeah, I’m joking,” he cheeses and looks back at Pim. Mischief lingers in his voice. “Except the last part. He’s one hundred percent a total ladies man. He picks up chicks on the job all the time, honest.”

“PIM! Is this true?! I thought this job was going to keep you honest!” When the pressure was on Pim, Charlie didn’t mind it at all.

“Agh- Charlie! No, it’s not true, mum…” He facepalms.

“What about Jennifer, man?”

“Who?”

“Jennifer, with all the- from the Shrimp adventure.”

Pim looks away quickly, his face heating up. His hands fidget with each other.

“Well…that was different.”

“I thought you would have grown out of that, Pim.” She sighs, and starts walking back to the duplex. “Come inside, get out of this cold. Your siblings have been talking about you all day.”

Pim turns to the car to start carrying bags, and Charlie already has them all in his hands as he shuts the door.

“Oh-- do you want help? That looks heavy…”

“I’m good, man. Just get the door. And do the talking.”

“Okay, sure.”

They follow a little distance behind his mom. Charlie leans a little towards Pim and asks, “so, what’d you grow out of?”

Pim can hear the smile in his voice and he hides his face in his hands. He blushes in embarrassment.

“Argh. I didn’t think she would bring that up…” Pim sighs, “Alright. I dated a ton of girls in highschool-- that’s it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she kind of focuses on it a lot, I don’t know why, maybe its a mum thing--”

“Nah, not that. I’m shocked that you- that you had game in highschool.”

“What? Oh, well. I didn’t really know what I was doing,” he confesses. “I was definitely… doing it wrong, looking back.”

“Clearly not, man. You said it, I mean, you dated a ton of girls. And your parents are still mad about it, that’s gotta count for something.”

Pim laughs a little as they get to the patio door.

“You’re funny, Charlie.”

They go inside, wipe their shoes, and are greeted with chaos. If the kids had the capabilities to bounce off the walls, they would be. When Pim walks in, they swarm him. They dogpile him with a hug and before Charlie can get a firm count of how many there are, they’re off again, crawling through the walls and running up the stairs and chasing each other from room to room to room. Pim looks overjoyed and very frazzled down on the floor. Charlie wordlessly helps him up.

“Let’s go set our stuff down upstairs, Charlie.”

They pass through the front room (the holiday tinsel is up and Pim cups his hands to his cheek in adoration) and Charlie hears the TV on in the living room as he follows Pim up the stairs. His dad must be watching something. The occasional shout or laugh from the kids running around keeps Charlie a little on edge.

As they ascend the dark, carpeted staircase, Charlie squints at all the photos, trying to scrape up any blackmail against Pim. At some point, he sets down a bag on the stairs awkwardly and he puts his hand on Pim’s shoulder to stop him.

“Hm? Yes Charlie?”

“Looking pretty dapper here, buddy.”

He points to a photo of Pim wearing a tux, bow tie, and corsage— not to mention the girl on his arm. His smile is massive and his glasses are apparent. The girl looks a little uncomfortable.

Pim laughs-- “Oh no, I thought mum took this down a while ago,” and he reaches for it, only for Charlie to grab it off the wall first.

“Charlie! What are you doing?”

“I need a picture of this, man.”

“NO! What do you need that for? That’s horrible!” He tries unsuccessfully to grab it from Charlie’s hand. Charlie just holds it higher.

“You owe me for dragging me along. This totally counts as part of it.”

“No way. Charlie!” He tries to reach it again, and he accidentally encroaches on Charlie’s personal space. He bumps into Charlie’s stomach and puts a hand on his belly to brace himself. He looks up at him.

“It’s this or something worse.” Charlie threatens casually.

Pim goes quiet.

“Like what?”

“I ‘unno, I’ll think of something.”

They look at each other.

Charlie knows Pim will accept the conditions just looking at his expression, so he sets the other bags down precariously and grabs his phone from his pocket.

“Ugh, fine.” Pim resigns as Charlie takes the photo. He then takes a selfie with it with a fake horrified expression in reaction to it. “Why that one?!”

“I dunno,” he laughs, “thought it might be funny.”

Charlie grabs the stuff again and they continue upstairs.

“Alright. I better not see these in the work Slack, though.”

“No, no, of course not,” Charlie replies, having already sent it to the work Slack.

The rest of the photos on the walls are all pretty innocuous; it all is very domestic. Charlie feels like he shouldn’t be allowed here in this bubble of domesticity before the storm of reality that is Pim’s family hits. He kind of wishes that something will just ruin the moment already so he doesn’t have to look around the corner for something horrible, metaphorically.

Non-metaphorically, Amy pokes her head out from around the corner at the top of the stairs.

“Ew— Pim? I thought you weren’t coming to Christmas this year.”

“What? Who said that?”

“Oh. No one, I made it up. But I was still excited for you to not show up.”

Pim laughs nervously.

“Well, here we are! I brought my coworker Charlie to stay with us. You remember Charlie, right?”

Charlie does a peace sign. “Yo.”

Amy stares blankly at them.

“Anyway, Brad’s over, soooo… don’t bother us.”

She goes back to her room and slams the door.

“She was nicer to me that time, I think.”

They make it to the once-Pim’s-room-now-game-room-slash-guest-room and drop their stuff inside. There’s one kid idling in there and playing Roblox on his Kindle. Pim shoos him out of the room and closes the door behind Charlie and himself.

“Here we are!” Pim says whimsically. “Oh, so many wonderful memories in here…”

Charlie looks around— it’s a mess of toys, AC units, and other child memorabilia that wasn’t deemed important enough to have out. Crazy messy.

“So we’re staying in your family’s storage room? Why don’t they just get like, a storage unit somewhere?”

“I don’t think it’s enough to warrant a storage unit, do you?”

“Maybe, man. You might get cockroaches or something if you leave it all on the floor like this.”

“Hmm. Maybe you’re right.” Pim thinks to every other issue in this house that he’d like to resolve first and shakes away the tidiness mission for later. “Anyway, there’s an air mattress around here, I just have to find it,” Pim starts looking under stacks of various clutter.

“Yeah. I was gonna say...”

They both eye the single twin bed.

“I’ll find that as soon as possible if you want to start unpacking…” Pim starts checking the closet. “Agh. It’s just board games in here, and… oh wait! Yes! Epic!” He pulls out a crumpled air mattress with an air pump still plugged into it. He starts clearing out an area for it on the floor. “I’ll take the air mattress since I’m not sure how reliable it is. Would you mind taking my old bed? It’ll be much comfier than this.”

“Yeah man, I don’t care.” Charlie starts grabbing handfuls of toys and cramming them into the already crammed space under the bed. There’s some semblance of bedding, but years of crumbs, dust and dead bugs have accumulated. “Uhhh… got any different bedding?”

“Oh, sorry, yeah. I’ll get that for you now.”

While Pim’s gone, Charlie goes on his phone. He has a few missed snaps— two from Zoey, one from Tyler. Zoey’s is at the beach. She’s smiling and having fun with her friends— they’re all drinking zany colored drinks. Charlie wishes he was too. Tyler’s snap is of a house party where he’s made it behind the DJ’s stand, absolutely destroying the crowd with his stuff. It’s short, but Charlie can tell he’s having a blast. He replies to each of them with a photo of a dead spider on the bed. He captions it, “me rn”. Pim gets back and he puts his phone away.

“Oh, geez man, you got all that?”

Pim holds a tower of bedding— two sets of comforters, pillowcases, blankets, and sheets. “Can you take the bedding off your bed really quickly?” There’s a frantic element to his request and Charlie does as told. He tosses it by the door and Pim drops the bedding on the bed with an exaggerated exhale. He starts on making the mattress.

They spend maybe twenty minutes setting everything up. Charlie settles for a sheet and a blanket, but Pim insists on making it for him if he wouldn’t. The air mattress is only a foot away parallel to Charlie’s bed.

“Alright, it’s 6:30. What do you want to do next, Charlie? I think my family wanted to go out for dinner.”

“You know, I’d really like to but I’m feeling pretty tired, man. I might sit that one out and catch up on some sleep here.”

“Aww, alright. Did you want me to get you anything?”

“Uhhhh, yeah. You know what I like,” and Charlie kicks his shoes off as he sits on the side of his bed. Pim heads over to the doorway. “Lights off?” He asks, to which Charlie politely says, “yes please.”

“Okay, well… sleep well.” Pim smiles sweetly at Charlie and closes the door behind him.

Now it’s time for Charlie to do what he wanted to do from the start.

Rust time.

The second Pim’s footsteps hit the stairs, Charlie speeds over and locks the door. Going back to his bed, he sits down and roots through his bag. He pulls out his laptop, mouse, charger, and headphones, and sets everything up. He’s all ready until he realizes he needs wifi.

He checks everywhere. It’s nowhere he’d expect it to be. He considers texting Pim for a minute, but his cover would be blown. Out of options, he returns to his bed and lies down. He groans and sets his stuff on the floor.

He’s pissed— the only thing he wanted to do was check this update. He’ll ask Pim as soon as he gets back. Maybe he can squeeze in an hour or two tonight when they get back. He hopes Pim won’t have an issue with him staying up late to play.

He drifts off, missing his apartment and what he could have had for the next week. He doesn’t expect himself to actually fall asleep.

//

Charlie wakes up to Pim opening the door. The excess light that comes through the door behind Pim’s silhouette is enough to make Charlie squint.

“Agh.”

“Oh! Charlie! Sorry— I didn’t know you were awake!”

Pim takes a step in. He isn’t wearing what he had on before— it’s some navy blue crew neck and sweats.

“How long was I out?” Charlie asks as he sniffles hard and rubs his eyes.

“Well, it’s 11 something…”

“What?” Charlie sits up incredulously. “Why didn’t you wake me up when you got back?!”

“You looked so cozy, I couldn’t! Plus, the dinner was, uh… weird. I assumed you’d want to sleep through the aftermath of that, so.”

Charlie checks his phone and doesn’t respond to Pim. He didn’t have any new texts. Maybe the notifications didn’t register— he opens Snapchat and checks it anyway.

“So…” Pim continues, “I mean, I just got ready for bed, I was gonna go to sleep now.” His sentence fizzles out. Then he throws on, “I don’t know if you want to go back to sleep, or…?”

He eases back down. “I guess,” he says with no confidence in his voice. Pim closes the door behind him and it goes dark. Charlie only now notices the glow in the dark stars that littered the ceiling over by the window. Pim climbs in bed.

“Your food’s in the fridge, by the way. It’s labeled.”

Charlie shoots back up.

“Oh- okay. No, I’m doing that definitely, yeah. I’ll be right back.”

Charlie doesn’t care to put his shoes on as he sneaks downstairs. The lights are all out, and the television is still on. Upon further inspection, Pim’s dad is asleep on the couch. He snores loudly.

Charlie finds the styrofoam box with “Charlie :-)” written on it. He spares no time in putting it in the microwave. He grabs a fork (he goes through all the drawers and of course it’s the last one) and a napkin. While it cooks, he roots around for something to drink. There’s some orange juice left in the bottom of a jug. He grabs the entire thing and, as his food finishes up, carries everything he foraged with him upstairs.

He sneaks into the room, closes the door quietly, tiptoes over to his bed, and sits down. It’s fries and what looks like a Buffalo chicken wrap. He takes a massive bite and it all feels worth it for a second.

“Charlie, are you eating in here?” Pim’s voice is meek.

“Oh shit. I thought you were asleep already.”

Pim laughs sleepily.

“Almost. That smells really good though.”

“You want a fry?”

“I already brushed my teeth,” Pim says dismally. Charlie shrugs and Pim can’t see.

“You can always rebrush ‘em.”

Pim stretches in his bed and makes a noise Charlie ignores. “Mmm. Maybe.” After a few seconds of thinking about it, he says “yeah, pass me one.”

“Alright!” He hands it to Pim and fist bumps him before he takes his hand away. Pim’s fist is limp and unexpecting. “You know, if it helps, Pim, I’m not brushing my teeth. I forgot my toothbrush at home.”

“Charlie! You could have told me, we could have stopped somewhere…” Pim sits up and scoots over to the edge of his mattress to grab more fries from the box in Charlie’s lap.

“We can get one tomorrow and I’ll brush twice as long or something tomorrow night to make up.”

“That’s not how that works,” and Charlie hears the smirk in Pim’s words.

“Yeah it is. I’ll just scrub off what I didn’t scrub off tonight, it’s not like it’s keeping count or whatever. And— besides, people from like, the 1700’s were making laws or whatever for our country and they didn’t even brush their teeth, they didn’t have this shit, so… yeah.”

“Is that true?”

“I dunno, probably. But it’s not gonna kill me if I skip one night.”

“I’m googling it.”

Their hands touch as they both reach for a fry. Nothing is said.

“It says-“

“What says? What’s your source?”

“Uhh, Reddit. They say-“

“Dude. Get a different source. Go to Wikipedia or something.”

“What? This is fine, they probably took their answer from Wikipedia anyway. They say that people have been brushing their teeth since ancient times with sticks and such, but the added sugars in our diet today make our teeth rot. And something about our teeth being closer together now too.” Pim looks up. “So you should definitely get a toothbrush tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t gonna argue with you, I’m just saying one night is fine.”

“Well, let me look that up-“

“It’s not gonna change what I do. I don’t have a toothbrush right now, I don’t really have any options, man.”

Pim clicks his tongue. “Right.”

“Yeah.”

Charlie finishes his wrap and pim finishes off the fries that Charlie couldn’t force down. Pim goes to brush his teeth again and Charlie lays back down. He’s not really tired, but that’s never stopped him from sleeping.

Charlie can’t help but to thank god for the short day. At least there was good food, good music, and good sleep.

Now they just had to do that for a week.

[pinkthrone445]

Will I ever know what it feels to hold you close?

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender :Fluff fluff fluff

Warnings:I don't think so

Summary:You and Mel meet on a dating app, but due to a bug in the app, you match even though you live many miles apart.

Author's note: Special fic for @neverfindmegone ♥️ for her birthday!

I hope you like this, I wanted to make it the most special possible for you to make you feel as special as you made me feel last week for my birthday, but it was a little bit hard to capture your soul and heart in just a fic, thank you for everything you do for me. Happy birthday sweetheart and enjoy. Cherry!

You were staring at the giant mirror against the wall, your foot was tapping on the floor, your stomach felt like it wanted to come out of your mouth, you've never looked so beautiful and felt so nervous and decomposed at the same time. Your cell phone that was on the dresser rang warning that you had a notification, with trembling hands you took it and smiled when you saw who sent the message

-♠️ MyMissPoker ♥️: "Hello my love, I'm dying to see you, I miss you so much... I hope in a day like this you can feel how much I love you even when I'm not there"-Melissa had sent you a message that immediately calmed your nerves and you couldn't help but remember with happiness how you came to know each other years ago, through a first message like this...

You remembered how you got to talk to each other 5 years ago

You were having lunch at work when your cell phone vibrated with a notification, confused you grabbed your cell phone while the others were talking to each other.

"Miss Poker has sent you a message" the notification said

-MissPoker: "Hello, I love the pictures you have posted, you have talent, and those little poems were pure perfection"-The message read and you frowned. Not long ago, you had downloaded a dating app as your friends had insisted because it had been a while since you had dated anyone. You agreed to do it, but if they let you choose which app it would be. In the end you signed up for one that was very anonymous, the only thing you entered was some personal interests and some photos of things you liked next to a alias, you didn't enter your real name or photos of yourself, and the app showed you people with the same interest that were close by.

The truth is that you had signed up for that one because you thought that no one would talk to you with the photos you had posted, that's why you had been so surprised to receive a notification on your cell phone. It was true that you had uploaded some pictures of the things you painted in your spare time, but you never thought that anyone would like it.

You carefully opened the profile of the person who had spoken to you, in her photos you could see a dog, a photo of some books, another of a baseball field, some cooking pictures, a dance hall and some pictures of the moon.

Curious, you decided to open the messages and answer her

-Littlechef(you):"Thank you...nice pictures too, I'm guessing you like cooking?" - You asked softly laughing about the silly interaction

-MissPoker:"Yes, I looove cooking. You too? Or you have that name in honor or ratatouille?" - The woman answered and you laughed looking at your phone

-Littlechef:"I'm a chef actually..."-You replied a little nervously, not knowing why

-MissPoker:"Isn't the funny thing about this app the anonymous part?.. But since you told me what you do for a living I'll tell you what I do too, I'm an elementary school teacher, the best in the whole school" - The woman replied and you stared at the message for a few seconds

-Littlechef: "the funny thing about this is get to know each other without knowing how we look and let ourselves influence by it... How we will get to know each other if we don't talk about ourselves?" - You replied and she sent a laughing emoji

-MissPoker: "you got me there... I'm Melissa btw, nice to meet you" - she replied and you wondered if it would be right to give your name to a complete stranger, but it was what you first did when you met someone in person, so you thought it wouldn't hurt to do it here

-Littlechef: "I'm (Y/N), nice to meet you too" - You replied without having the slightest idea how important a complete stranger would become to you.

From that day forward the conversation began to flow, from casual conversations to deeper ones, and there was no longer a day when you didn't talk to her.

You also remembered those first feelings for her even if you denied at the moment

Her notifications made you let out that silly laugh every time, like a child does when he gets into some mischief. You were always checking your phone. Her notification brightened your day in a surprising way and made you happy how easy everything was with her, there was always a topic of conversation and she always knew what to say when you got quiet. She was amazing.

Just talking to her made you feel a warmth in your soul that you didn't really know how to handle, to be honest it scared you a little, you had been hurt before and you had sworn to avoid relationships at least for a while, but everything was so perfect that it was hard not to feel something for her even when you haven't seen her face yet. Her way of being was the perfect compliment for you.

You remembered the first time you saw how she was

One day you decided it was time to forget the anonymous part and put a face to the name, so you exchanged photos. You were really nervous about that, what if she thought you were ugly? You knew she was older and that didn't bother you, that even turn you on a little bit, but what if she wasn't what you expected?.. You were so nervous and scared for the unknown but at the same time so thrilled to finally see her... So you each send 3 pictures to each other.

If you had fallen in love with her personality, her face was something else and made you fall even more, she was perfection itself. For God's sake, what a beautiful woman, her hair with those soft curls, her beautiful smile, her eyes shining in a particular way that made you feel warmth and peace, and her sharp cheeks looked like they had been formed by an artist with a chisel. If we are the creation of a God, she was his masterpiece, pure perfection. And let's not talk about her body and the things it made you feel...

She told you repeatedly how beautiful you were too, but you felt like a worm every time you saw her pictures again. You were so lucky.

Also, after the photos, you exchanged numbers too and you immediately deleted the dating app. Your heart was already hers even if you didn't knew at that moment.

You also remembered your first sad moment together

One particular day, you shared a picture of a place where you were painting, you had finished work and went to a particular place you liked to eat something and paint a little. You and Mel had been talking about meeting in person, but that day everything changed and your hopes fade a little. When she asked what you were doing, you told her and decided to send a picture of the place and what you were creating . You never expect Mel's answer

-"You don't live in Phily?"-Her comment left you a little bit lost and confused. The app was supposed to connect you with people who were close to you, but something went wrong and somehow you and Mel were able to see each other's profile even though you lived veeery far away.

You had never thought about it, you had both assumed you lived nearby but you were wrong. That day you both wondered if it made sense to keep talking and making plans to meet each other if you lived so far away, but after much consideration, you decided to see where all this was going despite the distance and kept talking.

Thank goodness you decided to do it, because fate had big plans for you. Love knows no distances and would continue to grow until your heart and hers came together.

You also remembered the ways in which she was always present even when she was far away

You decided to call her, you were about to have a panic attack, your country wasn't very stable and your job was laying off people because it wasn't enough to pay everyone. Mel listened patiently to all your fears and worries

-"What if I'm next? One of my friends was laid off and she had been there longer than me. I really like this job and I don't want to lose it, Mel. I don't know if I have the good qualities to find another one. I'm really scared" - You commented to the redhead while you were crying, while it hurt her to see you like this, she wouldn't let you be sad for long and she wouldn't let you alone on this

-"Hey Hon... Breath please... Let's not get ahead of ourselves, you're an incredible worker, you do everything in that place, I've seen how many amazing things you do, you're worth a lot and I don't think you'll be taken out. And if they do, you'll get a job in no time, you've got incredible talent in the kitchen and doing so many other things, you've got a good time of experience and that helps for a new job, you'll do well and I will be here to help you... But again, let's focus on the present, you still have work, stay focused on that, nothing bad will happen, Okey?"-The redhead whispered, and you nodded a little more calmly when you heard her voice, even if it was on the phone.

In the end she was right, the layoffs stopped and you even got a raise. Like that occasion, she was helping you through every difficult moment.

You remember all the things she did to be present for you even on the distance

Mel figured out how to use her cards to deliver food or snacks you liked.

She also learned how to play some games that you showed her to play with you, it was very funny to hear her insult while you played war games against other people, you almost every time won at uno.

Sometimes you would make video calls and watch movies together even at a distance.

And every night she would call you and tell you things about her day until you fell asleep together.

Every step you took there was her holding your hand and encouraging you, helping you to become a better version of yourself.

You even introduced her to some of your friends via video call and she did the same, so you met Barbara, Janine and Jacob.

One day the two of you decided to formalize things when you noticed how the talks were no longer just a talk of friends, but of something more. Mel wasn't one to believe in long-distance relationships, but somehow everything was working out better than expected.

Time passed with countless calls, photos, videos, sexual calls, and many many messages and audios.

Every once in a while you would send her a package of things for her and she would buy you things too.

There were days when you missed her presence even when you'd never really had her around, she always said that she was right there with you, but that didn't made the distance easier. It's weird to explain, but you can miss someone you've never meet.

You remembered how after months of missing her, the two of you finally met for the first time

When your work and hers allowed it, you agreed to travel to the same place to meet in person, she traveled with Barbara and you with your best friend.

The first hug, that first hug was something that was etched in your memory. You waited for her at the airport because you got there first, when she finally saw you she dropped everything and hugs you so tightly, no a word was shared, but you remember how everything was said in silence. Her hands fit perfectly in the hollow of your back, your height fit perfectly with hers, her perfume was the richest thing you have ever smelled in your life and finally your heart felt at peace.

You spent a week together, having amazing sex, walking, cuddling, taking the opportunity to sleep and bathe together, creating memories and making plans for the future, you even stole a pair of shirts to take home and have her smell close.

That was the first of many trips, every time you had the opportunity you got together to see each other even for a few days.

Your soul craved her in a way that never happened before to you.

Back to the present

A sigh left your lips as you remembered all those things, thousands of things had happened in between those years, even some arguments, but everything was fixed and you stayed together through all. Remembering all of that, remembering how you are able to feel Mel's love in everything she did from day one, made you cry lost in your mind and memories, missing her and feeling sad for some reason.

The sound of a new notification took you out of your thoughts and with your trembling hands you wiped your tears a little and picked up your cell phone

-♠️ MyMissPoker ♥️: "Hey sweetheart, is everything okay?.."-Mel sent you the first message many minutes ago, but when you started to remind everything that had happened over the years, you had forgotten to answer her and she got worried

-You: "no... I miss you, I need you here, I don't want you to be far away specially in a day like this" - You answered and she immediately called you, as soon as you answered she could hear your soft sobs

-"Baby, what happened?" - The redhead asked very worriedly-"I'm here, why are you crying? Are you having second thoughts? Did I do something wrong?"-You sighed trying to calm your crying and be able to answer

-"you are perfect, but I need you, I need you to feel you close" - You whispered in a weak voice

-"I'll go there right now, I'm just a few blocks away and I'm mostly ready, wait for me" - Mel answered and you heard her take her keys and her sister screamed in the background for her to come back

-"But it's bad luck to see each other before the wedding" - You whispered

-"It's also bad luck that one of the brides is crying of sadness in their special day... Besides, we have been apart too much time already, God will understand..."-she joked and you sobbed and laughed at the same time

-"Your sister will kill you" - You whispered laughing when you heard the screams

-"We will figure something out, wait for me, I'm coming. I love you"-She responded quickly, and you heard her sister get in the car with her

-"I love you more" - You answered and waited for her to arrive. After a few minutes you felt a soft knock on the door and then Mel's sister came in with a blindfold for your eyes and another for the redhead, so you and Mel could be together without seeing each other and without the bad luck.

Seconds after putting on the blindfold you felt how arms hugged your waist, you immediately hugged her again hiding in her neck letting out a sigh that you didn't know you were holding. You could tell she was almost ready because her dress was pressed against you and her hair was up. You finally felt safe again

-"Thank you for coming...I missed you" - You whispered and held her tighter hiding as much as possible in the crook of her neck

-"I missed you too... For a second I got scared that you were having second thoughts... I love you so much, I'm sure you are gorgeous right now" - The redhead kissed your forehead and held you until you calmed down completely, even though you couldn't see her, she was filling all your senses and that was all you need it to feel better. After a few minutes she kissed you forehead again-"Ready?" - She asked and you nodded while still hugging her

-"Ready...I can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together" - You whispered kissing her

-"I'll waiting for you" - She answered and you let her go to finish arranging the last details to be perfect on your most special day, your wedding and the beginning of a live together.

[livingformintyoongi]

Guilty As Sin? | Kim Taehyung x Reader [Preview]

a/n: Hello everyone! Sorry I've been gone for so long, I just started my first semester of architecture in August and I've barely had any free time :( it's been too stressful and it's too hard to have time to do anything but make plans or draw trees lol. Anyway, as I feel a bit guilty for not uploading anything for a few months, I'm bringing a little shot I wrote a few days ago as an apology while I try to finish the request I have pending. Please be patient with me <3

Warnings: Doctor!Taehyung x Doctor!reader, slight smut at the start, very little angst at the end. This is not finished as such. It's based on the song “Guilty as sin?” by Taylor Swift, it's just a little preview of the initial idea I had to write.

wc: 929

Taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss @yooglefics

You closed your eyes tightly, feeling an electric current travel from your head to the tips of your toes; your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you, your toes curling as your back curved, your chest colliding with his chest, both burning, both covered lightly in a layer of sweat from the exertion and heat that enveloped them.

“Does that feel good?” he whispered in a deep voice, licking a path from the center of your breasts to your chin. A proud smile took place on his face as you answered him with halting moans and desperate gasps. 

You had never felt so good in your whole life before, you wanted to tell him that, but it was so hard to make him understand your lips to utter that phrase. 

“M-more” you whispered, bringing one of your hands up to his hair, clinging to it as if your life depended on it. Taehyung's lips enveloped yours in a passionate kiss, his hips crashing into yours desperately, wanting to climax just as fast as you did. The sensation was so suffocating and addictive at the same time; you wanted it to end soon so you could ease the knot in your belly, but you didn't want it to stop either, you wanted it to cloud your every sense until you forgot your own name.

“Y/N” he growled against your neck, his hands clinging to your waist, keeping you as still as possible as he rammed harder. You clenched your jaw, trying futilely to keep your sighs of pleasure from escaping your throat. 

“Y/N” he said again, but this time it was different. His voice didn't sound as deep, and his grip on your waist was gone. Hands - smaller than the ones that gripped your waist - lightly gripped your shoulders, moving them back and forth as you listened as that much softer voice called your name.

Slit eyes and black hair was the first thing that greeted you when you opened your eyes. You sat up in bed lazily, observing the place around you. You were still in your room, there was sunlight filtering through the curtains, your body was wrapped by your sheets and pajamas and most importantly, you didn't have Taehyung on top of you fucking you. 

“You fell asleep” Hyunjin muttered, getting up from the edge of the bed he was sitting on to go back to his closet. He was wearing a suit - most likely a branded one - that covered his body perfectly, marking his slightly broad shoulders and small waist, it was very likely that, if he stretched a bit, his muscles would show through his shirt, a rather dangerous combination considering the vipers that worked with him in his father's company. 

You still remembered how, when he first got his position, you were quite annoyed at how the models he worked with threw themselves at him every chance they got; now, however, it didn't seem to hurt like it did in the beginning, you just got tired of asking him to push them away, you got bored of having to wait for him to decide to tell all those tall, thin and beautiful women that he had a girlfriend. 

“Yes...” you mumbled, still sitting on the bed, watching as his body went back and forth from the closet to the mirror, trying on different ties to see which one would fit him best. “The green one I like” you looked at him through the mirror, hugging your knees. “Green is a nice color, don't you think?”.

“I don't like it” he replied after a few seconds, going back to the closet to pull out a black tie. He always wore the same stupid tie, why try on so many if he would go back to the same one, “I hate that color, it's hideous.”

“I like it” you whispered, looking at your toenails. They were the same color as his tie. It was the same tie you bought for your fourth anniversary. You painted your nails that color just so you could match him. “Why-?”

“Don't wear that color,” he stepped closer to you, extending his tie in your direction, “it wouldn't look good on you.” His hand stayed outstretched until you took the tie and began arranging it around his neck. You wondered for a second if he could tell how much you wanted to cry right now. Probably not. “I'll be late today” As usual, “don't wait up for me” I stopped doing that months ago, “Oh, and try not to fall asleep with your clothes on, it's annoying to have to be changing after a long day at work”.

“Yeah, sorry” you mumbled, finishing tying the knot in his tie. You tried to swallow the knot that had begun to form in your throat. Just a little longer, you thought, he's going away.

“I left some things in the kitchen in case you're hungry” he kissed your forehead just before leaving the room, a few seconds later you felt the front door close. Only then you could allow your tears to fall freely down your cheeks. 

You walked slowly to the kitchen, feeling another tightness in your chest as you saw what he had left for you on the table. A white bowl filled with strawberry milk in which floated chunks of whole grain cereal, blueberries and berries. You were allergic to blueberries. You sighed, taking the bowl and wrapping it with allusa so it wouldn't spoil. “It's okay, it's the thought that counts, Y/N” you whispered between hiccups.

Masterlist.

[libraryofneith]

Old Dog, New Tricks (Sandor Clegane x Female Reader)

Summary: After Sandor Clegane is rescued from the Stranger's door, he is forced to consider a future without violence, without abuse, and without servitude. Can he find a new purpose? Can he help more than he has harmed? And can he share a purpose with anyone else?

Fic Tags/Warnings: whole fic is 18+, minors DNI, cursing, violence and gore, eventual smut, some serious smutage, takes place season 6 onwards, canon divergence, last season what last season?, reader has a name, third person POV, grumpy x sunshine reader, sunshine character x sunshine protector, i am a sucker for the "grumpy old man who's mean to everyone except this one special person to whom he is unbelievable sweet" trope

Notes: this is not my first time writing game of thrones fanfic, nor my first time writing for this character, but it is my first time uploading for this character on tumblr. Those of you familiar with my work will know I've got another WIP and don't worry I've not forgotten it! I've already got 12 chapters for this so hopefully won't keep you waiting too long for updates. And won't keep you waiting too long for the smut which let's be real is why most of us are here, smut kicks in at chapter 11 and then we do not stop till dawn, I started this years ago, like pre pandemic years ago. Largely forgot about it until I discovered an old memory stick with a bunch of unfinished stories and now i'm back on my game of thrones bullsh!t. Might even re-upload an old AO3 fic of mine that I deleted years ago because I stopped liking it. Who knows? Anyways, that's enough rambling from me. On with the story, and as per, like and reblog to increase visibility and let me know if you want to be tagged when this story updates.

Fuck. Buggering fucking hell. Buggering shitting seven hells this hurts! I. Hurt. Everywhere. There’s something… something I need to think about. I said I’d watch over it… what is it? Eyes. I can see eyes. Someone’s here with me. Is it that big bitch? Bugger it all I can’t see properly! Who are you? What do you want? I can’t fight. I can’t fight. What the hell am I going to do? Bloody hell! What is it I’m forgetting? They. Whoever they are… they’re giving me something. A drink. Probably poisoned. Fuck I’m thirsty. But I can’t. They want to kill me. Shit I can feel it. I can’t fight them. Leave me alone! I don’t want your poisoned piss. Oh. It’s water. Fuck. Shit me. I feel like lead. I need to sleep. I can’t. They’ll run me through first chance they get. I’m drifting. I can’t stop. Maybe that water was poisoned after all. To hell with it. I’m ready. At least I’ll die in a bed. At least I think this is a bed. If only I could remember what I’m forgetting. Fuck.

---

I know. Eloquent right? Not to worry dearest reader, by the time you're done with this chapter I'll have the next one up which has more content.

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 44

First / Previous / Next

When they got back to the frigate, everyone went to their rooms. It wasn't the scheduled rest time, but nobody really felt like sitting in the common room.

Fen was exhausted anyway. She showered and fell into bed. Soon after she was completely asleep.

She dreamed.

Fen found herself on a beach of black sand, with a turquoise sky overhead and a sea that was nearly purple. Behind her were trees that looked like mangroves if you squinted, but the leaves were a deep purple, like the sea.

"Where am I?"

"You're on Meìhuá. Or at least how I remember it." A woman appeared next to her. Fen turned, and was taken aback. It was her... But it wasn't. Her hair was different, the lines in the face different, but it still was unnerving.

"You're Melody, I assume?"

Melody, First Empress nodded. "The star that Meìhuá orbits outputs different wavelengths of light than Earth's sun. The plants here evolved to absorb it's energy and power themselves with their version of chlorophyl. But the most efficient color wasn't the green of Earth."

"Is this real?"

Melody smiled. "No Fen, it's a dream. But it's also a memory. And it's also a reminder. You are my clone, and you did interact with the Nanites." Melody stared out to sea. "I missed this. I had all these plans to go home, to visit everyone, to show them my success." She shook her head. "It turns out, that was not in the cards."

The beach changed. With the logic that only works in a dream, they walked a few meters down the beach and they entered a massive room. Room was too small to describe what this place was, it was practically an arena, with seats for thousands of sapients. At the far end, high above everyone was a throne made of something that looked like green glass. It almost seemed to have grown from the floor, it's role as a throne secondary. It flowed up towards the ceiling and spread in fractal branches until it disappeared in a blur that hurt to look at too long. Melody climbed up the steps towards the throne and sat gingerly, wincing slightly. She patted a smaller - but still impressive - chair next to her, and Fen sat. "Okay, but how did you get here? How are you in my head? How are we talking?

"The Builders - that's the name of the people who ruled with the Nanites a long time ago - used to have this ritual they'd do. They would visit the nearest Gate to where they were and touch the addressing stone. This would initiate an upload, and the Nanites would take... a snapshot of the current Empress and store it. I had a chance to do it once before I began my invasion of Sol." She turned back to Fen. "Think of me like that. I'm a snapshot of the Empress when she touched the addressing stone, but also, I know more than that Melody did because the Nanites filled me in." She chuckled. "I'm almost an AI, I suppose."

"Why are you here? Why now?"

Melody leaned forward, and put her chin in her hands. She stared out at the empty arena, and didn't look at Fen. "The Nanites asked me to. They said that you'd listen to me." Her eyes flicked to Fen. "If you're half as much like me as I think you are, they're only somewhat correct. I know you'll listen, but I don't know if you can be convinced."

"Convinced?"

She nodded, her chin still on her hands. "To take up the Nanites again. To become Empress."

"I don't want to be Empress." Fen rolled her eyes and scoffed.

Melody lifted her head off her hands and stared at Fen. Her eyes - nut brown, just like Fen's - stared into her soul.

"So what do you want, Fenchurch Whitehorse, clone of Melody Mullen?"

What did she want? The answer shouted back at her, clear as a bell.

"I want Ma-ren back."

"The one thing we cannot do for you."

Fen stared out at the empty arena, trying not to weep again. It wasn't fair. If Ma was here, she could help her figure all this out. If Ma was here she would know what to do. If Ma was here she... wouldn't be so alone.

"Fen. The Nanites can't bring Ma-ren back, nothing can. But they can help you make the world the kind of place where the other Fens and Ma-rens of the galaxy won't have to be separated the way you were."

Fen turned slowly and stared at Melody. "You're the Nanites, aren't you."

Melody held out a hand. As she did that, the hand... disappeared. There was no blood, no gore where her hand was, her arm just came to a stop. Around where her hand would have been was a cloud of grey smoke. She smiled and the smoke flew towards her and condensed into a hand again. She flexed her fingers.

"Yes... and no." Melody looked up from her hand at Fen. "I am Melody Mullen - at least her when she touched the addressing stone, but I am also the Nanites. We work in harmony."

"We've moved beyond dreaming now. How are we-" Fen's forehead creased and her eyes narrowed. She unconsciously balled her fists. "Helen. Ancestors damn her."

"Yes, Helen provided you with the concentration of Nanites necessary for us to reestablish contact."

The scene changed again. Now they were floating somewhere. The only colors were grey and black. Fen's crossed arms and frown spoke volumes. "I don't want to be Empress, I don't want to do this. I want to be left alone and do my own thing."

"What better person to rule the Galaxy than someone who doesn't want the job?"

"Just why do you want us to rule anyway? What do you have to gain?"

"We've been over this, Fen and we know that Helen has told you. We want you to build more Gates. The Gates reach into our dimension and give us an outlet into yours."

"But why? Why do you want to enter our dimension?"

The representation of the Nanites currently in the shape of Melody floated in the black and grey nothingness, silent.

"I won't agree to anything unless you explain yourselves."

They sighed. "If we explain ourselves, will you be Empress?"

"I will listen. That's all I can promise right now."

"Fine"

They were elsewhere.

It was a planet. They were high in the atmosphere. Full of pinks and light blues with browns and reds below. Overhead was two moons, either further away or smaller than the huge moon orbiting Earth.

"This... was our home. Long, long ago we were a biological sapient species, like you, like the K'laxi, like the Gren, like everyone. We learned about our galaxy beyond our planet, about the space in our local area, expanding out, further and further. Do you know what we found, Fen?"

Fen stayed silent.

"We found nothing. There were stars, but they were far away and dim. There were planets, but only a few, and most were bare chunks of nickel-iron. We used our strongest telescopes, saw back to the beginning of everything and saw that we were alone. We know that your species had a similar feeling, though you had way more stars and planets than we did. Eventually you met the K'laxi and then the wider galactic community, and later still you found the Gates and met us - but I am getting ahead of myself."

"As the realization that we were alone started to sink in, people decided to throw themselves into learning as much as we could about where we were. We spent decades, centuries trying to learn about the physical laws that we were under. Eventually - much later than yourselves - we figured out the math to predict black holes. We know that soon after you predicted their existence, you discovered them. We searched for hundreds of years without finding any."

"Fen you have to understand, we were undergoing a bit of an existential crisis. If we were alone, then what did anything mean. We were a social species, like yours. We were actually pretty close to mammalian, like yours. What did your species do when they're in close quarters with no outside influence?"

"We self-select into groups and then those groups fight." As much as she didn't like her schooling back home, Fen remembered that much from history class.

"You fight. We did too. Huge, decades long wars about nothing at all. At the time, it felt like it was everything, but in hindsight-" they chuckle "-it was nothing. War is a great driver of technology, so our technology grew by leaps and bounds. Soon enough, we were manipulating matter on the sub-quantum level. With enough energy, we could make anything. Your matter printers come close, but this is an evolution of that."

She let them continue, it seemed like they were on a roll.

"The first time it happened, it was an accident. Someone had uploaded their mind and became distributed. A cloud of nanomachines, sentient. There were discussions and arguments about whether they were alive, whether they were a person. Before we could work out the legal framework, someone else did it. Then another, and another. There was something about this that drew everyone in."

As they were talking, the scene around them changed. It moved from being over a planet to being further out, near the orbit of the moons. As they spoke, the planet turned from pinks and browns and blues to a uniform grey.

"It wasn't long before everyone converted. We had all become one distributed nanoscale being."

"What happened to those who didn't want to upload and become Nanites?"

The representation of Melody turned away from Fen. "You know what happened. What always happens."

"They were killed. Turned into raw material for the Nanites." Fen's eyes widen in recognition.

"As we grew, we required matter. That was simple enough - we disassembled our solar system and moved on to others. Energy was more difficult. Our dimension was much more sparsely populated than yours. We don't know why, maybe a quirk of our physics. Anyway, we spread through our universe, consuming everything, turning it all into Nanites when we came upon it."

"It?"

The view changed again. Now, Fen and 'Melody' were floating above a sphere, brighter than a billion suns and just as large. Light and energy radiated from it in every direction. Fen reflexively held her hands in front of her face, but it wasn't necessary. This was only a memory.

"The white hole. If you think of a black hole as a place where energy and matter is taken in, the white hole is where it comes out. Nearly unlimited energy, all for us to take and utilize."

Now, around the white hole it was uniformly grey. Countless Nanites surrounding the white hole, taking the energy it gives and building more of themselves.

"Even though we had become one large distributed intelligence, this did not sate our curiosity. What was the white hole? Where did the energy come from? We dug deeper and deeper into the mystery until we realized that we were most likely living inside a black hole. Your own scientists theorized this as well. Wondering if inside every black hole was another universe. We wondered this too. Eventually, we gained the technology to be able to check and what did we find?"

"You found us."

The representation of Melody holds up a hand. "Almost. We found your galaxy as it was hundreds of thousands of years ago. All around it was stars, planets, black holes, pulsars. Your universe was teeming with energy, teeming with life. Far, far more than ours. We knew enough that we could open a door to your universe from ours and stream through. We could come in and use that energy to continue to grow."

"Then why didn't you?"

"We spent a long time thinking about it. Eventually it was decided that we should not come into this dimension and consume everything to make more of us. We should... be good stewards of the other universes that we find. We developed the Gates and showed the local sapients how to build them."

The view changes. Now Fen can see a massive sphere, made up of rings interwoven. Each ring glows blue with a painful, fuzzy light, almost like Cherenkov radiation."

"The master Gate. All gates are extensions of this Gate. When everyone uses a Gate they pass through here on the way to their destination. It's how Gate travel is instantaneous. It's how we reached out when you went through the gate."

"Okay, but you still haven't explained why. Why do you try and set up a galactic empire? Why do you give the Empress the ability to give orders that can't be disobeyed?

"It's the most expedient way, Fen."

"Way to do what?"

"To build more Gates, to allow us to see into your universe to help us find other universes."

"Other universes?"

"Yes. We made the decision not to consume this one because of how it teems with life, but it has been a long time Fen. A long long time."

The representation of Melody falls away. Fen is back in the black and grey void. The voice comes from everywhere, all at once.

"We are hungry."

[mossypidder]

So I was wanting to dye my hair pink midwinter so it’d fade my spring, I’ve been meaning to make another skull mask, it was supposed to snow the third week of January and somehow Technoblade always seemed to end up in the snow. Therefore. Things happened. I was only intending to take photos of it, but then I heard this song and my brain just went MMMM THIS SCENE AND THIS SCENE AND THIS SCENE AND- so I made a short. Or at least it was intended to be a short, but for some reason, YouTube won’t upload good audio, which is annoying, because tumblr doesn’t like high res imaging. Regardless, I’m really, really happy with this. Also here’s the slightly shortened youtube version if anyone’s interested.

Here’s the concept art for the costume beside what it actually turned out as. Material list below cut.

Mask: foam core which is a staple, but I tried duck masking tape instead of regular scotch tape in hopes the paint wouldn’t peal off it’s held up so much better thus far. Tusks and teeth are cosclay. Then acrylic paint and I don’t remember what the clear coat is called.

Crown: also foam core, but I did use scotch tape for it. Not as happy with it because there are a lot of creases, but I was too lazy to try and find a different medium. Painted with an oil based gold paint which actually covered very well and I barely used any of it.

Actual Mouth Tusks: also cosclay with acrylic paint for the white and the same oil based gold for the tusk cap thing.

Cloak: red fleece that I weathered with acrylic paint (and painted myself and the kitchen floor in the process), and long pile fleece for the hood lining. The buttons are cosclay that I, again, painted with the same gold. And the chains I just bought in bulk off amazon cuz I’ll probably use it again.

Corset Belt: some random faux leather I had leftover from a former project, and the laces are just ribbon.

Sword: a friend made it for me forever ago, and it’s just been lying around.

Shirt: a random find from Goodwill that I about shrieked at when I found.

Pants: I can’t remember where I got them, I’ve had them for a while, they’re just high waisted corduroy.

I really wanted glasses, but I couldn’t find the ones was planning to use. Which is obnoxious. Because Techno deserves to see. But it’s not supposed to snow again for a while, so unfortunately, no glasses.

Also, this is the first time I’ve wished I had long hair since I cut it off almost three years ago because aesthetically it would have been really nice, but I’m less hung up on that than I am the glasses lol

[arctroopertinky]

Look Towards the Future Ch2: Killed in Action

Captain Rex x Jedi!Reader

Words: 7.1k

Summary: You and Rex keep reminding each other of things neither of you can identify.

Warnings: References to death / Panic attacks / unnamed character death / major character injury

A/N: The second of six chapters that exist on AO3, I will keep uploading the chapters to Tumblr about once a day

AO3 Link / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / Master List

The evening hours pushed forward as you wandered your way through the Resolute, you had a small bag on hand containing all of your possessions. Growing up in the Jedi Order, you were taught of the dangers of material possessions, and were highly encouraged to limit what you owned to maintain better control of your emotions and impulses. Even with this small bag barely over halfway full, you still owned more than most Jedi, and you suspected that many looked down upon you for this. But, if they did, nobody said anything about it, and that made you uneasy.

But what made you uneasy in this moment was your inability to find your quarters on the Resolute, and the sight of countless clones all around you. You wished you could be alone, but you knew that each of these clones had a job to do, and a duty to the Republic to do their job. There was no wishing away these clones when they saluted you as you walked by. When they spoke amongst themselves, forcing you to hear their identical voices. You tried to block it all out, tried not to remember your clones. The ones you failed not too long ago. Each time you looked a clone in the eyes, you saw one of your own men. Each time you heard a clone speak, you heard one of your own men. Men you could never see again. And it didn’t help that you got no sleep the night before either. You spent your entire first night in the 501st studying the battle plans for your first mission with the battalion. You knew that sleep was important before a fight, but you didn’t want to fail this battalion, You didn’t want to go through that again. You couldn’t.

Ahsoka, who was dismissed from the lengthy meeting with Rex, Anakin, and Admiral Yularen, spotted you walking aimlessly. She noticed that you ignored the troopers who saluted you, and examined that you appeared distressed. Your hood was up but there was no hiding your face. When your eyes spotted a clone, you sharply looked down, the floor beneath you looking mighty interesting to you all of the sudden. Your upper teeth caught your bottom lip, refusing to let go as your lip discolored slightly and wrinkled. Your eyes were dazed and glazed over as they refused to focus on what was in front of you. The dark circles under your eyes were obvious and prominent, you looked absolutely exhausted.

Ahsoka politely approached you and gently placed her hand on your shoulder. You flinched at the contact, then slowly moved your head up to meet Ahsoka’s kind gaze. Your eyes were wide and your mouth hung open slightly, your bottom lip red from the biting. There was no hiding from Ahsoka Tano.

“Master y/n, I saw you walking and I just wanted to check in on you.” Ahsoka removed her hand from your shoulder and you turned to face her, removing your hood. “Are you having a hard time finding your quarters? I can help you, I believe your quarters are located near mine.” She offered.

“Oh…” you had to stifle a yawn. “That would be great actually, thank you.” You replied. “But please- don’t call me Master… just y/n will suffice.”

Ahsoka’s mouth widened into a toothy grin. “Of course, y/n! Follow me, I think I know where your quarters are.” Ahsoka began to lead the way. Her pace was a bit fast for your liking, but you could tell it was just because she liked you and was excited to help. Ahsoka’s demeanor brought a slight smile to your face. One that was genuine, but quickly disappeared when you caught sight of more clones.

While you followed Ahsoka you made sure not to walk next to her, but somewhat behind her. There was nothing more you wanted right then than to just disappear as clones from the 501st continuously stopped Ahsoka in her tracks to greet her, and to unfortunately try to greet you too. In response you simply kept your head down or nodded your head without saying anything. Many clones took notice of this, and gave Ahsoka a confused look. In response, Ahsoka simply lifted her hand up, silently telling the troopers to not worry, and not to take any offense to your coldness. As you continued walking you focused on blocking out the images of your old troopers that appeared in your head.. They haunted your mind’s eye and tormented your walk behind Ahsoka. You began to see flashes of your old Captain on the field, off the field, training for the next battle. It all began to overwhelm you, until-

“We’re here! These are your quarters, right down the hall from mine!” Ahsoka exclaimed, bringing you out of your trance. You turned to face the sound of a door sliding open to reveal an empty room, simply furnished with one bed and a small dresser next to it. The walls of your room matched the rest of the Resolute. It was boring and simple, but it was your room and you would have to make do. At least there was a small refresher which was accessible next to your bed.

Ahsoka looked proud of herself. “Where, there you have it. If you need anything from me, visit my quarters.” Ahsoka pointed up the hallway to a closed door. “Please don’t hesitate if you want to talk about anything.” Ahsoka placed her hand back on your shoulder. “We’re all here for you.”

“Oh…!” You weren’t exactly sure how to respond, but you felt a slight smile creep upon your face once again. “Th-thank you, Ahsoka. I-I’m grateful.” You stuttered, mentally punching yourself for your awkwardness. You rubbed the back of your neck with your hands as you led yourself into your new quarters on the Resolute. Ahsoka let you get to it, knowing to give you the space you needed to finally relax. Once you heard the door shut behind you, your body immediately began to release tension. You sluggishly peeled off your shoes before throwing them into a corner.

It was just you and your quarters, no Anakin, no Ahsoka, no clones, no Rex. You noticed that the Captain tended to stare for longer than you were comfortable with. You could tell it wasn’t anything malicious, but you were still confused as to why he took so much apparent interest in you.

Thinking about it began to give you a headache, you rubbed one of your temples with one of your hands, while allowing the other to toss your bag onto your bed. You plopped down onto the mattress, sitting up while you untied the string on your bag to allow the top to furl open. You carelessly stuck your hand into your bag in hopes of finding your water container to help relieve your headache. After some searching, your hand touched something that stopped you in your tracks. The familiar sensation of the item made your heart drop. Your fingers gripped the item as you slowly lifted it out of your bag. Once the item came into view you knew exactly what it was, a broken piece of your old Captain’s helmet, all that was left of it after the incident, all you had left of him.

This was the first time you’ve really searched through your bag since placing the helmet piece into it all those weeks ago. You jumped at the sight of the item and dropped it back into your bag, a light clinking sound accompanying its landing against your other items. You jumped to a standing position. Your breath quickened into shallow heaves. Your vision unfocused and your quarters turned around you. Your fingers grasped your hair and began to pull. Images of your Captain started to haunt you once again, flashing in and out of your mind at a nauseating pace. After a moment of absolute panic, you were able to ground yourself enough to think of a way to calm down.

Your limbs shook as you nervously sat yourself back onto your bed. You lifted your bag and casted it aside onto the floor. You removed your lightsabers and your belt and placed them on your dresser. As you crossed your legs and rested your hands onto your knees, you attempted to take a deep breath in. It was shaky and uneven, but you forced your lungs to fill until they couldn’t expand anymore. Then, you let the breath out, and felt your heart rate slow slightly. You repeated this until it became automatic to you. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Again and again. Then, the relaxation took hold, and you felt yourself losing the material world.

You were meditating, your physical body meant nothing to you in this state. You could sense that your quarters no longer existed around you either, just a soothing darkness. It was just you and your mind. You called out into the darkness to see what would respond. After some minutes you felt a familiar presence, one that was… off, but provided you sense a serenity nonetheless. You reached your hand out into the darkness to unveil more. But more darkness responded.

You felt… disappointed. This presence you felt was something you missed without completely understanding it. But, the meditation relaxed you nonetheless, it helped you feel more like the Jedi that you were expected to be. You thought you felt well enough to retreat from your meditation, until you felt a sudden presence overwhelm your senses.

You let out a yelp in response, your voice echoing in the dreamlike realm. The presence felt similar to that of your old Captain, and it felt terrifying, you felt that he was terrified.

“Rory?!” You yelled into the abyss, but you saw nothing, your eyes were telling you that you were alone, but you began to hear his pleas.

“Y/N!” You heard your Captain scream. He sounded as though he was in pain, he wanted your help. He NEEDED your help.

“RORY!” You screeched. “I can help you! Just tell me where you are!” All you heard in response were his agonizing screams. “Rory, please!” You still heard no coherent response from your Captain.

“Hey!” The screams, what sounded distant at first, started to become louder and louder. Your arms were locked in place in fear, overwhelming you greatly in the darkness.

“Hello?!” They were louder now. You were too scared to yell, but you felt something bubbling up within you.

“Y/N!” This time it felt as though someone was right in front of you. The sensation was enough for another scream to burst from within you.

“RORY!” You belted. The intensity of it all took you out of your trance. All of the sudden you were back in your room, you felt sweat pooling together all over you. Your breath was untamed. Your eyes were unfocused as your pupils danced around your quarters. You were out of control, until you heard a voice.

“Hey! Are you alright? Who’s Rory?” The voice captured your attention away from your nightmare. Your focus came back to you and your pupils relaxed to allow you to see the source of the voice, and it was Rex. He was standing only some steps away from your bed, leaned slightly towards you. He had a tray full of food in his hands, presumably from the Resolute’s mess hall. His face wasn’t very close to yours, but close enough to allow you to spot the details in his face. His eyes were full of concern for you as they examined yours, his eyebrows were angled in a distraught way that wrinkled his forehead. You had no idea how long he’s been here.

“Captain…? How long… have you been in my room?” You managed to ask in between breaths. This clearly caught Rex off guard.

“Oh, uh…” The Captain shot his posture back up as he promptly took a couple strides back towards the door. Embarrassment infected his face as he lost his composure. Gone was Rex’s Captain-like demeanor. All that was left in front of you was an embarrassed and stuttering man. “I-I just, was walking down the hall w-when I heard someone screaming. I-I didn’t intend to intrude o-on you, I just-”

“I understand.” You interjected, placing your vision downwards, refusing to look the clone in the eyes. “Thank you for your concern, Captain.” You forced yourself to weakly smile for the Captain’s sake. “But I would truly rather be alone right now.”

Despite how uncomfortable it made you, you then allowed your eyes to settle onto Rex’s in an attempt to convince him that you were okay. You felt guilty that he had to hear you in that state, that you were the reason he had to drop everything to check in on you. The last thing you wanted was to be a burden to another clone. Luckily, Rex seemed convinced after an uncomfortably long moment. He still looked concerned for you, but his expression softened slightly as he seemed to respect your wishes nonetheless.

“I understand, General. I apologize for the intrusion.” Rex stated as he saluted you, before turning to walk out the door. Your smile faded as you stared at his back as the door hissed open to allow him passage back outside, and snapped shut again. You rubbed your eyes with one of your hands as you started practicing your deep breathing again in hopes of fully relaxing. Rex’s distraction largely helped you enough to calm you down, but your heart rate was still elevated slightly.

As the beating of your heart continued to slow to its resting tempo, you thought about what had just transpired just minutes ago. Your panic attack, your horrific visions, Rex being in your quarters. He would never have been there if you didn’t yell like you were in danger, if you were actually acting like the Jedi you were supposed to be. Ever since the incident, your emotions have been… heightened to say the least. The order clearly noticed this, hence the reason you were assigned under Anakin’s watch. Your emotions have affected you greatly but you didn’t want to be a burden and share the load with others, you’ve already done that enough.

You noticed a lightly colored spec out of the corner of your eye, and you looked over to see that it was the tray of food that Rex was holding earlier on the floor by your door. Suddenly you felt extremely embarrassed, did he forget his food? Or maybe he brought the food for you? And oh no, he definitely heard you say Rory’s name, didn’t he? Those thoughts made your head spin, your face became hot as you approached the tray and took it into your hands. You still haven’t had dinner yet, you knew that you were hungry, and it would be wrong to waste good food. Especially since you had no idea how to find Rex to return the meal. You brought the tray back to your bed, and as you ate, you felt your mood improving as you finally had your first good meal all day. But, there was still an itching thought in the back of your mind. You have been trying to avoid clones as much as possible since you lost your battalion. But Rex’s kindness, or at least his consideration towards you, made you feel conflicted. Instead of instantly kicking Rex out of your room, you welcomed his presence more than you would have expected and you didn’t know why. Either way, you had to continue to study the war plans. You finished up your meal, and got right back to studying. You couldn’t fail these clones.

- - -

Rex made his way through the residential halls towards a data room. During his travel his brothers would salute him, to which Rex would return the favor but would not slow his pace towards his destination.

Yes, he brought the meal specifically for you. In the moment he thought it would have been a good excuse to have been coincidentally walking through the halls to coincidentally walk past your quarters and coincidentally have the chance to talk to you. He mentally kicked himself for his stupidity and his strange need to speak with you. The first day he saw you he saw something in your expression that drew him to you, despite the fact that he didn’t have the words to describe it. He saw it in your quarters too, after he rushed in when he heard you scream. You just looked more scared, and alone. The way you looked was something he was familiar with in a strange way. He barely even knew you, but he, for whatever reason, knew that he wanted to get to know you. But what he did back there was an obvious overstepping of your boundaries. It was not his business to enter your quarters without an invitation, and he felt guilty even thinking about it. Of course he intended to knock on your door like a normal person, but when he heard you yelling, he felt he had no choice but to enter just to make sure you weren’t hurt. He just hoped that you weren’t upset, and that you at least enjoyed the food he left you.

Either way, he heard you yell a name he was not familiar with, but considering your affiliation with the Jedi and how many millions of men were in this army, he had a hunch you were referencing a clone.

The door to the data room was wider than what was provided in the residential halls. The hiss the door secreted before it opened was deeper, but the door whipped opened just a quickly despite the heavier weight the contraption had to bear. Rex peeked into the room, and luckily, it seemed as though he would be alone. Rex marched in, head and eyes moving independently in order to locate the data book. Once he found it Rex put in his password provided to him by the Republic, and the book glowed to life, its blue hue shining against the white of Rex’s armor.

Rex prepared himself to type, but then paused, and hit his palm against his forehead as he rolled his eyes. He had a name, but not an identification number. Rex grumbled to himself as he continued to press his palm against his face, agonizing over his mistake. Sometimes it was easy for Rex to forget that he and his brothers were not born with these names. Despite the fact that millions of men looked just like him, their names gave each of his brothers another character, another personality.

“Something happen?”

It was Cody.

“Cody?” Rex stepped back, trying to act natural. “When did you get here?”

“Just now, but I’ve been here long enough to see that you need some help. Can I?” Cody inquired, eyeing the databook.

“Actually, yeah.” Rex began, “have you ever met another trooper who calls himself Rory?”

Cody took a moment to think, his eyebrows furrowed as he was deep in thought. “You know what? I think I have before. What, do you need to know his numbers?”

“I think I do.”

“Do you want to tell me why?”

Rex hesitated.

“That’s something I’ll have to talk to you about later.” Rex replied. Cody side eyed his brother with a curious suspicion, but shrugged his urge to ask more aside as he leaned in next to Rex and typed in the identification number.

“I won’t push you, but I better hear about this at 79s if the story is as interesting as I’m hoping it is.” Cody laughed. Giving Rex a big pat on the shoulder. But he was already extremely focused on the data book in front of him. Considering his options, Cody removed himself and walked out the door to return to his duties. Rex, now alone, was fully able to focus on the screen.

Rex methodically read over every bit of information that this trooper had to offer. His date of birth, his training notes, his battalion and who he led into battle. All until his eyes found the end of this clone’s story. ‘Killed in action.’

Rex’s eyes grew wide as he read those three words over again. Suddenly his face felt hot and he looked away from the screen as regret began to boil in his chest. Maybe Rex was (once again) overstepping your boundaries here. Clones he has never heard of died all the time, and it’s not like any of this was his business, he did not know you, and you did not seem interested in getting to know Rex or his brothers. It was already a bit much that he thought about you enough to visit your quarters, why was he making your past his business? Why did he care like you were an old friend? Rex looked back at Rory’s file, but decided not to read any more, and shut the machine off before swiftly exiting the data room.

- - -

You woke up to the sound of your alarm. Your body was mangled from sleep as you unfurled yourself and reached up to turn off the obnoxious sound. When you sat up you wiped the drool from your cheek and picked up your datapad from off the floor. You must have fallen asleep while studying, the datapad was still on and your room was still a mess from the day before. After Rex left your room you studied for the rest of the day and into the night, hopefully you got enough sleep, as today was the day of your first mission with the 501st.

Most of your morning was a blur as you found your body walking out the door, then suddenly forcing down a quick breakfast, then suddenly standing in a dropship flying over a battlefield, hearing that a plan was being explained by Anakin, but you couldn’t make out the words. Your head was angled slightly downwards as your vision refused to focus. This was your first mission back, you studied the plan and the planet for countless hours, counteracting the benefits of studying with the detriment of losing sleep. You thought you prepped the best you could for your new battalion, but you clearly were a bit tired and stressed out of your mind.

Rex noticed this as he stood with you, Anakin, and Ahsoka. “Assist the natives of the planet, drive back the Separatists, and ensure their freedom,” Rex heard Anakin say, but part of his focus was on you. He watched as you looked at nothing in particular, as your thoughts panicked around each other in circles. Rex considered getting your attention, but to do what? Wish you good luck? Provide some other gesture of comfort to you? He felt a little nervous even thinking about it. Although you didn’t think much of Rex entering your room the evening prior, Rex assumed that you did, and he worried about how you thought of his actions. Rex hesitantly weighed his options, but was mentally interrupted by Anakin.

“Y/n, did you get all that?” Anakin, inquired. You looked surprised as you blinked your eyes upwards to the General.

“I- Of course, Master Skywalker.” You forced. But Anakin was clearly too focused on the fight ahead as he let an excited smile corrupt his face. “Great! Then I’ll let you take it from here.” Without warning Anakin leaped from the dropship as it was beginning its descent. Ahsoka, yelling about how Anakin never let her go first, promptly bounded to the sky and dived towards the battlefield. Your eyes grew wide at the carelessness of the other generals. You heard Fives and the other troopers laugh and holler at their generals’ bold dash towards the battlefield. Rex lifted his hand sternly to notify his men to stop the noise, and he looked at you as his brothers quieted down.

“Are you… ready for this, General?” Rex inquired, clearly sounding concerned. Your head turned to meet his helmet, calculating what to say next to satisfy him. But, nothing came to mind. As your dropship landed, the rumbling noise of dozens of other dropships infected your senses. You stepped towards the edge of the dropship, peering out into the battlefield. You took a deep breath to try to calm some of your nerves against the chaos of the war. You failed tremendously, but you had to say something to these clones. You turned towards them, the wind lifting your hair and your robe in its wake. Blaster shots were heard in the near distance, signaling that they were missing out on the fight. You had to go now.

“I am, and I hope you all are too.” You half-lied, preparing yourself to sound more confident. “Let’s go!”

You heard the battle cry of the men behind you as you leaped from the dropship into battle. You were greeted by a planet supposed to be covered in lush greenery and thick forests, but you were met with an empty field, the deep green grass you thought would be beneath you was desecrated, dirt mounds littered the battlefield. Your battalion arrived in the middle of a firefight between the citizens of this planet and Separatist forces. Luckily to got there when you did, the citizens were slightly losing their fight for freedom. You had to sprint over some dead civilians in order to make it to the heart of the battle. Anakin and Ahsoka were far from you but you were able to locate them easily by spotting their lightsabers if you needed to.

The battle was intense. Blaster fire and explosions could be heard from all directions accompanied by yells and screams alike. Not one second went by where a trooper or a citizen wasn’t running past you to get closer to their target. All hell had broken loose, but for some reason, you weren’t afraid. Despite your lack of sleep from the night before, the battle reinvigorated you. As you deflected blaster shots back at your opponents, it reminded you of how things used to be for you in this war. How you, your captain, and your battalion would charge into battle without a care in the world, destroying the Separatist threat wherever the Republic sent you. As you cut down separatist droids, you remembered the pride you felt as you celebrated each victory with your men, how you would spend time with your captain afterward, and-

Then you tripped.

You broke your fall with your knees and elbows, feeling the sore pain bubble up as you tried to shake your dizziness. As you waited for the dizziness to dissipate your teeth grit together and your eyes remained shut tight. Once you could focus, you strained your neck to look behind yourself, to see that you had tripped over a fallen trooper. Suddenly the confidence that the battle had gifted you quickly disappeared, and what replaced it was an acute feeling of horror. You practically threw yourself at the clone in order to save him. “Trooper!” you yelled. “Are you alright?! What are your injuries?!”

No response.

You gripped the trooper’s helmet tight as you struggled to remove it. After a moment of strain, however, you managed to free the trooper’s face from the confines of his helmet. But what you hoped to see wouldn’t come. Despite your nervousness towards the clones as of late, you wanted nothing more than to see their eyes full of life looking into yours. But all you saw were the lifeless eyes of the man beneath you, staring into nothing as his head slacked over. Then, you noticed the blaster shot wound burned into his neck. He was dead.

“No…” Your eyes began to water as you took the trooper’s lifeless body into your arms, silently sobbing and soaking the trooper’s face with your tears. You did not know this trooper, but knowing that maybe, just maybe, you could have done something different to save this man’s life ate at your soul like acid.

You continued to mourn the clone until a blaster shot only just missed you and burned the ground next to your leg. Your eyes locked onto the scorch mark on the Earth, and you felt a burning anger bubble within you. You let the trooper go, his limp body accepting the Earth as you turned to pick up your lightsabers. As they ignited, your eyes shifted to look at a small company of battle droids. Rage infected your eyes as your senses tunnel-visioned on the droids. You began to walk, then run, then sprint towards the company. Your ears refused to hear anything other than your footsteps, your labored breaths, and your blood beating in your body. Those droids were going to pay for this, and you were going to kill them.

You were too furious to be subtle, you dashed in front of the battle droids with your lightsabers ready. If they said anything about your arrival, you did not hear it, you were ready to pounce. With your passion equipped, you demanded the force to relinquish the droids’ blasters from their grasps. You swiftly put one of your sabers away and put your hand out in front of you. As your fingers clawed the air, you closed your fist, expecting blasters to come flying towards you. But nothing happened.

You snapped back into reality with a gasp. Your eyes grew wide as shock filled your body, paralyzing you as the battle droids realized your presence. You stared at your closed fist, scrambling to understand what had just transpired. The droids looked at you with their heads cocked to the side in pure confusion. After a moment, they all aimed their blasters at you in unison. You pulled your second saber back out in reaction and prepared to block the shots.

But you couldn’t feel the force. You knew all too well what it felt like to anticipate blaster shots, but right then and there, you felt lost. Your senses were completely blind as the first shot fired from one of the blasters, just missing your head and zooming past your ear. You gasped as dozens of shots suddenly came flying at you. You tried to deflect the shots as best you could, but you only were able to connect a pathetic percentage of them with your sabers. Even then, the shots that bounced off your sabers flew in wildly different directions, not even close to your targets. Rex, not too far from your current location, twisted his head quickly in response to a blaster shot zipping past him, and saw you struggling against dozens of battle droids.

Suddenly you were hit. Your shoulder sharply bounced back in response and you yelped out in pain. With one arm down, you continued to try to make use of your other one against the shots coming towards you. Deflecting some, but many others kept narrowly missing you. You were hit again, this time in the hip, another burning sensation began to resonate in that area as you fell to your knees, waving your lightsaber around at a weakened pace. The battle droids kept marching closer to you, you strained your eyes on the company, thinking this was the end, until you heard a collection of clinking sounds bounce near the droids.

The EMP grenades sparked to life under the feet of the battle droids, causing them to seize for a brief moment, before most of them collapsed to the ground. The remaining battle droids turned to look at Rex, Fives, and Echo bounding towards you. A ringing took over your ears, so you couldn’t hear anything, but you did see a battle droid point towards the clones, with shots following the order. One by one the troopers took out the company, you saw as they all began to fall, each in quick succession from the last. The ringing in your ears became louder and louder as your adrenaline wore off and the pain from your wounds became more intense. Then you felt a hand grip your good shoulder, the ringing suddenly stopped and you were once again surrounded by the sounds of battle around you. You looked away from the droids to see that Rex was kneeling down right in front of you. His hand held onto your good shoulder tightly as his helmet sat almost uncomfortably close to your face.

“General y/n! Can you run?! We need to get you out of here!” Rex yelled.

Worry spread across your face. “I… I don’t know.”

He let your good arm sling over his shoulder, and your whole body shook as you got up on one of your feet. The leg with your injured hip would not allow you to stand, however. You managed to lift the knee up, but right when you attempted to extend it to the ground, the pain was too much to bear. The best you could do was keep your good foot on the ground, and keep the other knee bent to avoid some of the seething pain in your hip.

“This will have to do!” The captain stated. “Let’s go!”

You and Rex ran in tandem with each other. It helped to keep one arm over his shoulders, but in order to run faster and keep you upright Rex had to wrap his arm that was closest to you around your side. The two of you made a good distance together, dodging stray blaster fire and explosives. But the running caused more and more pain to well up within you. It became extremely difficult for you to keep pace, and Rex could tell as your hopping became more and more sluggish, as your breaths became more and more labored. He turned his head to look over at you, and he saw your gritted teeth and tightly shut eyes.

Suddenly you could no longer hold yourself up, Rex felt your arm sliding off his shoulder as you descended to the ground beneath you. Behind his helmet, Rex’s expression warped to that of fear and concern for his General. He practically dived to the ground to help you.

“General! We have to keep moving!” Rex pleaded. But you couldn’t budge. Rex grabbed your arms to try to get you up again, but each attempt led to a yelp from you that stabbed Rex’s heart at an intensity he did not expect. You tried to speak but the pain was too much to bear. Rex hesitated for a moment, listening to your groans in pain and the battle around him. He realized that you were not moving on your own, and there was no way he was going to leave you behind. He looked down at you, and took a deep breath as he closed his eyes.

“Shit…”

With a heave, Rex picked you up into his arms. He lifted your back into one of his hands, and your legs into his other. You let out a pained noise, but Rex did not wait. The moment he confidently had you in his grip he began racing towards a dropship. At first, your hands kept to themselves, resting on the base of Rex’s shoulders. But eventually, they found their way wrapped around his neck to keep yourself stable as Rex sprinted across the uneven terrain. Rex was clearly screaming something into his comms to Kix, but it was hard to hear much of anything, the ringing in your ears was persistent once again, and you were in a world of pain. But, there was something about your current situation that took you out of the moment. As Rex belted into his comms and carried you tightly, you quietly peered up at him. Of course, you couldn’t see his face, but you felt a sense of comfort from being held, from being cared for. Even if it was just because you were injured in battle, this situation you found yourself in with the captain sprouted a familiar feeling within you. A good feeling, something you haven’t felt since…

“AGH!” You felt one of Rex’s shoulders bolt forward. He almost dropped you, but managed to keep hold on your limp body. Rex got shot, and it looked like it hurt.

Rex’s breaths turned into pants as he got close to where a dropship had recently landed. His steps, which slowed when he made contact with the blaster shot, gradually got faster and faster until he returned to the same rapid tempo it was before. Rex was way more shaky now, so your arms were now wrapped around his neck even tighter, and you laid your head onto his good shoulder, next to the crook of his neck, praying for the nightmare to be over. Although engulfed with sweat, Rex’s scent comforted you a bit. While it was distinctly his at the end of the day, some notes within it reminded you of Rory, and for some reason, it helped you feel calmer, despite the chaos occurring around you.

It took all of Rex’s strength to hoist the both of you into the dropship, Kix was impatiently awaiting your arrival, bacta patches in hand. Rex almost dropped you as he placed you onto the ground, sitting you up against the wall. You groaned at the contact with the hard steel, your head was pounding and sweat pooled from all over you. Kix visually examined you quickly before he got started.

“General y/n, we’re going to have to remove your robe so I can assist you.” Kix stated. Rex observed as Kix helped you remove your robe, you bared your teeth tightly as you shifted and moved your wounded areas. Once your robe was off, Rex realized that he had never seen you without it on. Your broad shoulders were accompanied by a top was form fitting, sleeveless, and cropped above your naval. Your pants, however, were loose fitting but cinched at the ankles, and swayed with the wind that passed through the dropship. Rex found himself not only transfixed on your outfit, but on some scars that littered parts of your exposed flesh, mostly concealed by your clothes. When Rex realized he was staring he quickly opted to look around aimlessly with his hands on his hips, praying that you didn’t notice a thing as his face turned red at the thought. Luckily he was wearing his helmet.

“Rex.” Kix started, “I need to examine your shoulder as well.”

“My what?” Rex turned to see bacta patches covering your wounds now. You still seemed in no condition to fight or even stand, but you certainly looked better already.

“Your shoulder, Captain.” Kix was a bit more assertive now as stepped towards Rex, another bacta patch on hand. “Have you forgotten you’ve been shot?”

“Of course not Kix.” Rex states with a slight annoyance. “General y/n is clearly in more need of help than me, I’m doing fine.” Rex lied, clearly hiding pain in his voice.

“For fucks sake Rex, just take off your armor.” Kix ordered. Rex sighed and reluctantly took off his helmet, praying his face wasn’t noticeably red. Then he moved to remove his injured shoulder from his blacks, seething in pain in the process. Then, Kix walked around Rex to face his back. The bacta patch felt cold to the touch as it hugged Rex’s wound, causing Rex to shiver a bit in reaction. As Kix worked on securing the patch to Rex’s skin, Rex snuck a peek at you, and saw that you’ve been looking at him. Locking eyes, you quickly looked away, eyes opting to instead rapidly scan literally everything in your surroundings except for Rex. Rex wasn’t quite sure what exactly to do here, so he simply looked ahead silently as Kix promptly finished up attaching the bacta patch to his shoulder. In the distance, cries of joy could be heard by clones and civilians alike, the battle was won.

- - -

Kix made quick work of the both of you, but once he felt satisfied enough, he excused himself before leaping from the dropship to go assist any injured clones or civilians who needed assistance. Immediately after, Echo hopped in the ship with your lightsabers in hand.

“General, I believe these are yours.” He stated, clearly proud of himself. Your eyes widened and you quickly sat upright with the realization that they were left behind, and you took them gratefully. You were still in a bit of pain, but the bacta was diminishing it by the second.

“I- thank you, Trooper! I don’t know what to say! I…” You trailed off. You were grateful, but still felt awkward about being with clones again.

“Don’t worry General y/n, it was no problem.” Echo assured you. He then saluted you and Rex before returning to the battlefield to assist his brothers. You noticed and observed as Rex carefully pulled his arm back through his blacks, before realigning his armor and re-equipping his helmet. Then, he politely acknowledged you before turning to exit the dropship. The setting sun contrasted Rex’s silhouette, causing an orange shine to compliment his form.

“Wait…!” You quietly pleaded, hating your almost desperate tone. Rex turned around, his lifeless mask facing you once again, hiding any facial expression you could read.

“I… I just wanted to thank you, Captain.” You stood up, only slightly struggling in your attempt. “I never would have made it out of there without you and your troopers’ help, I owe you my life.”

Rex did not hesitate. “You owe me nothing, General y/n. You are one of us now, if I see one of my own in need, I go to help them. No questions asked, no debt owed.”

You took what Rex said to heart, and you gave him a slight smile. “I appreciate that, Captain.” Without the force, you could only hope that he was smiling behind his mask as he saluted you. This time, as he turned to exit your presence, the smile on your face did not fade because it was fake. No, your smile turned into a frown as you looked downwards at your lightsabers sitting in your hands. Why were you unable to use the force so suddenly? It almost got you and the troopers that came to save your life killed. It was something you would have to get to the bottom of, before any clones get injured on your account.

[ominous-feychild]

✦ Writer Questionnaire 2 ✦

Thanks for the tag, @the-golden-comet! (And @the-letterbox-archives tagging me when I was almost done here, haha)

Heads-up! Long post!

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr? A fast and loose estimate is fine!

Two months ago to the date actually??? Or, at least, that's when I first uploaded a story here. My first actual Writeblr post was me hopping in on an open tag on the 6th of June, haha. I thought it was just a month, but looks like the summer's gone by in a flash! 😭

What led you to create it?

So, I'm a writer on Tapas! I'd been attempting to social network on other social medias (twitter and bluesky) but wasn't getting anywhere, didn't like the general formats, and uh... I'm sure I don't have to explain why I don't want to touch Twitter with a 10-foot-pole anymore. Let's just say, if you haven't seen, it's just as bad as (if not worse than) everyone says. Anyhow, I'd seen lots of Tumblr short stories on other platforms and started investigating what it's like here. Didn't know what "Writeblr" was or that it even existed, but eventually stumbled into the field after posting my short story. Thanks, @darkandstormydolls! ❤️

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community?

How supportive everyone is??? Like omg you guys are so sweet, idk how to take it. Also I love seeing how much passion everyone else has for their writing, haha.

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

Uhhhh, I think I'm pretty open about the things I'd like people to know about me, haha. I never mean to offend, so if I accidentally say something wrong, please tell me! I'm autistic and very dumb.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

I'm ngl I keep meaning to build out my followed tags for my fandoms, haha. The only fandoms I really see things for are TMAGP (10/10, TMA is my obsession. I am obsessed. It is one of my Special Interests and I love it with all my heart) and House of the Dragon??? Except I'm not even a fan of HotD??? So that's kinda annoying, haha. (Aka, my fandom stuff, but that's on me.)

WIP it Good

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

Rising From the Ashes, tragically. (Because it's one of the LAST things I should be working on right now, haha.) Otherwise, I'm of course always obsessed with the Arcane Rifts. Then I force myself to be obsessed with Sun and Shadow, though it's slowly growing on me, haha.

How long have you been working on them?

Haha, so I've historically jumped around a lot in working on different things, so these are approximate guesstimations!

Rising From the Ashes has likely had 3 or 4 years put into it/the characters. If you include the Calamity Crew (which overlaps with it in the timeline and originally ended up merging with the cast of RFtA), I'd say definitely 4 years!

The Arcane Rifts has had 5 years put into it.

Sun and Shadow is very new; I'd say it probably only has about 4 months of work in it? It's part of why I'm less interested in it, haha. Less I've put into it and less I'm attached to.

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

Oh... oh dear. How could you ask me this??? 😭😭😭

Rising From the Ashes has existed since, I think, 2016. It started (tragically) as an RP starter on Google+. I wish I was kidding.

To those unaware of how it worked in that space (and likely similar ones to this day), you'd post a starter and people would join in with their own characters. 99% of the time, they'd drop out before long. However, I'd work out details of the characters in the process and carry that info over into the worldbuilding. I eventually stopped RPing with the masses and settled down with a single "partner" who I'll call Kris.

She's the one who stole my docs.

The Arcane Rifts technically originated as another RP starter? It never got attention, though, and instead my ideas for it simply carried over into the worldbuilding in general.

One of the characters of the original starter was important in the worldbuilding. It was not a character you see in the early books of tAR, though, so don't bother trying to figure it out. But, since he was so important, his origins were also important.

The Arcane Rifts started in 2019, as I wanted to make a story building out said character's origins. It was originally going to be a duology, the first book being Gene's backstory and the second being how Gene and The Other Guy's lives intertwined. (No, they were not gay for each other! 😂) It's since changed a lot, and focuses basically exclusively on Gene, haha. The last book in the series will probably be focused on the other character, though!

Sun and Shadow started for a romance novel competition on Tapas which has since ended. I didn't get to finish it in time for a lot of reasons, but I primarily cite stress and exhaustion from working full time at a physically-intensive job. It grew shockingly quickly and I had some fans donate to me related to it, so I'm kinda forced to work on it, haha. Dw--I like it! It's just harder to work on for a number of reasons, haha.

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

Tragic, the questions you're asking me--

It depends, haha. I'm autistic and hyperfixate a lot. Also, for one, that's a suuuuuper vague question??? Like what do you mean "how much time"--how much time within the day? How often in general? Idk, man, haha.

I think about the Arcane Rifts a LOT!

I've put an incredible amount of time and effort into it, and I'm in love with 90% of the characters there. Even the background characters have had a lot of work put into them, getting relatively fleshed-out backstories to make their motives understandable (even if not agreeable!), and I love them all so much, haha.

Except Katerina. She's a bitch.

I also think about Rising From the Ashes a good amount, and it's invaded my brain again lately, haha.

I took a step away from RFtA and basically all of my other stories late 2021 when Kris (my ex-writing partner) and I had a falling out. It was incredibly difficult for me emotionally to look at anything I worked with her on, and obviously RFtA was a huge one (actually, tAR was the only thing of my early works she had nothing to do with). Since early this year, I've finally been able to work on it again and it's been incredibly fun removing her stuff, actually!

I think all that is a good part of why I keep randomly getting obsessed with it again, haha. It's like looking at old friends (the characters, not Kris) and being all "omg??? I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU IN FOREVER??? PLEASE TELL ME EVERYTHING YOU'VE BEEN UP TO!!!" except it's removing Kris's stuff, haha.

I think about Sun and Shadow a lot more than you might expect with how much I talk about not preferring it, haha. I love the characters! Crow and, actually, Valyarus especially. They're both super interesting characters, and I'll randomly find my brain working out scenes between characters interacting with them.

(The problem with SaS is that, as a book, it's incredibly different from my usual works. It's a small cast of Frey/Crow and technically Daleira, while most of my stories focus on larger casts. It makes for a VERY different experience, and so it's a lot harder to work on)

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

Actually, I've got a ready answer for this one! Until SaS, I was dedicating my time to the Arcane Rifts and had prepared the answer:

Percy Jackson meets Lord of the Rings in a steampunk fantasy world full of ✨mysteries waiting to be uncovered✨

(I'd say the "mysteries waiting to be uncovered" part ironically/accidentally mockingly most of the time, whoops, haha. I always feel awkward advertising my works.)

It was awkward when people would get actually interested in it from there and ask more questions, haha.

To clarify: that's my tagline for the Arcane Rifts! The story has gods and demigods messing with mortals, using them as their playthings and being REALLY immature babies because they don't really face consequences for their actions like PJ. Then, it's a lot more "grounded yet fantastical" like LotR, where magic is kinda infused with reality and yet you still have issues like starving to death and whatnot.

Let’s Rotate Blorbos

Name any characters you created.  Side characters, protagonists, antagonists, characters who’ve never been written, the first original abomination you ever pulled from your ass; whomever you’d like!

UHHHH THERE'S A LOT TO LIST???

Try this for a taste! These are just the guys I've gotten colors for!

Freya, Crow, Daleira, Valyarus, Grimnir, Soren, Gene, Tazin, Mislav, Adilzhan, Ludmila, Rada, Caspar, Nikolai, Gennadi, Oska, Rieka, Liesel, Carmin, Nora, Sammy, Kieva, Caron, Varik, Elazi, Riaan, Roman, and Tiberius! (Though Tib is getting a name change sooner or later)

Who’s the most unhinged?

Unhinged in which way? There's a lot of options there, haha.

I'm going to give honorary mentions to Valyarus, Gene in the later books, Tazin, Rieka, Gennadi, and Tiberius ! (Why does it not surprise me that most unhinged characters are from tAR? 🤣 Also I swear it's a coincidence most of the unhinged characters are red.)

(... Probably.)

In general, I'd say that, incredibly ironically, the Existence of Order is the most unhinged of all my characters. She's just incredible at hiding it.

(Tbf half of the Existentials probably belong on the "unhinged" list anyway but eh. They still don't compare to Order!)

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

I'm going to give this as a tie between Gene and Sammy!

Gene has my 'tisms and just about all of my trauma, so we have a lot in common, whoops, haha. Also there's a... very specific detail about his character that makes him easier to write in general. It's just a major spoiler. 👀

Similarly and actually identically to Gene in some ways, while Sammy has a lot in common with me, he's also incredibly perceptive! (Although we don't share that fact.)

Due to the way I write, their analytical natures allow for them to spit straight facts about the worldbuilding and the people around them rather than beating around the bush, haha. Both are highly investigative, try to learn and understand everything around them, and notice small details other characters wouldn't! It makes it much easier for me to write, because uh... well here's an example of what my outlines look like.

Long story short: I include a lot of detail which I then transfer into the POV's character narration, cutting out details which they wouldn't notice or think about, haha. In Sammy's case (which that scene has Sammy as the narrator/POV character), very little information gets cut out because he's so perceptive!

(Here, as a treat--have another example!)

(In this scene, Nikolai is the narrator. Even the outline gets "filtered" to mirror the characters' way of thinking--like it's Nikolai himself seeing Caspar as "doll-like". The crossed-out stuff is details I most likely won't mention, but noted for myself, haha. I do the same thing if/when including details about the motives and thoughts of non-narrator characters.)

Do you ever cringe at them?

Gene and Sammy?

A B S O L U T E L Y .

Gene is a wreck in basically every way and desperately needs help (that he won't get until he meets Dimitry). As much as I love him, there's a lot of moments where you just can't help but wince and be all "shit, did you REALLY have to do/say that?"

Sammy on the other hand? He's a terrified, control freak manipulator who panics the moment he feels like he's losing control of a situation. It can be painful to watch, even if simultaneously fascinating.

How much control do you feel you have over your characters?  AKA, do they ever “write themselves,” refuse to cooperate, or do things you didn’t expect? To what degree? Are some less cooperative than others?

I explicitly go out of my way to add backstory to and develop each and every one of my characters until they "write themselves", haha.

I want my characters to feel like real people, so I do my absolute best to make them as real as possible. (That's part of why tAR is so massive...)

Special shoutout to Dimitry here, btw. Dude COMPLETELY screwed over the planned and intended from the earliest days path of the Arcane Rifts. I've mentioned before that Gene is villain-coded, yeah? Want to know why?

Because he was MEANT to be one! Then Dimitry had to come along, be the sweetest, nicest fucking person around to Gene while he was going through the worst part of his life, and keep Gene from slipping off the deep end!

MITRY, YOU PIECE OF--

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters? And do you have a preferred means of receiving said questions? For example, as Asks, as replies, as reblogs, as tag notes, as comments on AO3, etc.

I absolutely love, love, love!!! people asking questions about my characters!!! 🥰

I would absolutely prefer them as Asks sent to me, and especially would prefer if separate subjects/questions were sent in separate Asks! Like, say you were going to ask me about Gene and Dimitry. I'd rather two separate Asks, one asking for whatever you wanted to know about Gene and another for whatever you wanted to know about Dimitry, haha. However, if you wanted to ask a single question about both, that obviously is fine as a single Ask!

On writeblr engagement

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account? Do you follow ‘em as you see ‘em, or take time scoping out the blog to make sure you align with its content? Do you follow based on WIPs, or vibes?

I definitely scope out before I follow, yes.

I choose based primarily on the personality of the person behind the blog, but the WIPs/vibes can also have an influence on my decision, haha. I'd rather follow people with kind/supportive personalities, and I'll eventually start liking their stories even if they're not initially my thing!

What makes you decide against following?

Bigotry. Moment I see it, I'm on the lookout for even the slightest hint of more and, if I see it, I'm OUT!

(That includes things like: homophobia, transphobia, TERFs, ableism, racism, xenophobia, etc.)

Also, while I include angst in my stories, the people who are big on "I have nothing but bad stuff in my writing and I'm proud" are, uh... not on my "follow" list. While they can write what they want and enjoy it, grimdark is not my thing. Angst is best in moderation and I very purposely control the amount of it in my life.

(Also Kris's--my ex writing partner's--obsession with "grimdark-ness" is a good part of why I'm so ecstatic to remove her stuff from my writing. Yes, I've tried it. For years. I hated it. Please and thank you. Also note that I proudly call myself an evil writer, so it's not like I don't love angst, it's just--moderation. Seriously.)

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

Yes! I think a good 50-30% of my interactions are with non-moots, haha. I go out of my way to try to support my moots, but I'll definitely share support with anything that catches my attention, no matter who it's from!

To be fair, though, I think a majority of non-moots I interact with are on my mental "probably going to follow soon" list. I can be slow to make decisions, haha. It doesn't help that I try being active with my moots, so I'm trying to avoid growing that list too quickly!

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

Haha, depends what you mean by that? My brain is definitely too full of my own characters to have any space for anyone else's, but I definitely do think of others' characters at times! There's plenty of y'alls characters I really like, haha.

Just... omg, my hyperfixated AuDHD brain refuses to focus on anything except for the Hyperfixation of the Moment™.

This was a huge one! Hopefully I'm not screaming into the void with this one, or you guys enjoy finding out more about me and my WIPs.

If you're curious about the reason this is labeled Writer Questionnaire 2... well guess what!

Tagging (gently! This is a lot, haha): @honeybewrites @yourpenpaldee @paeliae-occasionally @mysticstarlightduck @illarian-rambling @.darkandstormydolls (tagged you earlier in the post haha) + open tags!

Divider from @cafekitsune!

[yourantag]

Paper Stars (Ithaqua×Reader)

AN: Posting this along with my intro since I feel bad for anyone that gets jebaited thinking I was uploading lol This was originally going to be more painful, but then I listened to Laufey's "I Wish You Love" and it got kinda better, kinda worse. Enjoy! Word count: 2.0k words Summary: You filled bottles and jars with stars of all shapes and sizes. Some were perfect, others a little wonky. Regardless of how they came out, you placed them in containers that decorate your room. No matter how long you stay in this dreadful place, these stars will remain proof of your hopes, dreams, and love. They'll remain even after you are long gone.

Even before you entered the manor, you had a habit of making paper stars. Your friends, ones you've long forgotten the names of yet remember warmly, had claimed that if you filled a jar with a thousand paper stars, you'd be granted a wish. You've long grown out of such beliefs, or so you claim, but you still make these delicate stars anyway. They give you comfort, if nothing else. However, the biggest contributor to your growing collection of stars was Ithaqua.

It wasn't that he was making too many. In fact, his claws tore the thin paper far too often for most of them to survive. The true reason was that, as foolish as it was, you had started hoping beyond all hope that, perhaps, if you made a thousand jars of a thousand paper stars, you would have a chance to be loved back by him.

Since a long time ago, since he first came to the manor, you had loved him. Your first few jars of stars could tell all about it. You'd write confessions and compliments, snippets of stories, anything and everything, onto tiny slips of paper. These would later be turned into paper stars, filling jar after jar in a mesmerizing mix of colors. In shades of pink, white, and purple, the stars grew and grew as years passed and your love stayed true.

Of course, as time tends to do, it changes you. The luster of love dulled to let you see Ithaqua as himself, and even then, you loved him. The way he'd lean on you when he was tired, the way his face scrunched up when he yawned, even the way he'd purposely annoy you by putting your favorite snacks on the tallest shelves. You loved him for his faults, and you loved him for his virtues. No matter what you learned about him, he was still perfect in your eyes.

Well, perhaps perfect isn't the right word. You know Ithaqua isn't innocent, you know he isn't completely good. He's vengeful, he's cunning, he's someone with more spite in his body than good in his soul. He is a hunter, deadly as a blade and cold as night. He laughs when he chases and he kills without mercy.

Even so, when Ithaqua holds you gently, brushing his thumb over your cheek as he wraps your wounds, murmuring apologies like prayers, you can't see him as a monster.

He isn't perfect, but he is Ithaqua. That is enough for you.

More time slips by like sand through your fingers, decades going by with seemingly no end. Your stars are not pink, white, and purple anymore, but red, orange, and green. Your love has grown a startling amount, resulting in a growing pile of star filled bottles and jars. They clutter your closet floor, taking up almost all the space inside. You think you may have made around six hundred or so, most likely more. Even so, you know there will be more, this time filled with daydreams and flustered hopes.

Your relationship with Ithaqua is closer than ever. He is your other half, your shadow, always there and ready to talk. You know him better than anyone else, just as he knows you. At this point, the whole manor is convinced you're dating each other in every way but in name. You flush whenever they say so, quickly saying you two are only friends.

"For now." They say.

'For now.' You think.

With how many years have passed, you'd think you would've gained the courage to confess to Ithaqua. Sadly, the heart is as cowardly as it is powerful. Your chest feels like it'll burst whenever you try to confess, lungs begging for air even without restrictions. Every time you try, anxiety rips the words away from you, causing you to fumble like an idiot in front of him.

It might have been a blessing that the words never had a chance to form. 

Later, when you were coming to visit him on the hunter side, you heard him talking to someone. You weren't one to eavesdrop, respectful of others' privacy, but you couldn't help but listen when you heard your name come up.

"It's painfully obvious they love you. Why don't you just confess already?"

"I can't do that. Confessing to someone I can't love is not right."

At that moment, you felt your heart shatter.

That day, you stayed in your room. You wanted to cry, scream, break something, do anything, but as always, you could only do nothing. You were curled up on your bed, incapable of doing much other than wonder why. Why can't he love you? Why won't he love you? Why, why, why, why, why?

You had gotten overconfident, you guessed. With how Ithaqua treated you so differently from the rest, so lovingly, you had assumed he'd felt the same as you did. At the very least, you had hoped he'd have some romantic interest in you. Was it presumptuous? Was it arrogant? Was it wrong for you to have hoped that he would love you back after all these years? Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn't. Regardless, the truth lay bare before your eyes now, and there was nothing you could do but accept it.

It took you a week to get out of your slump, leaving many worried. You couldn't bother to care, trying to reassure everyone quickly that you were fine despite having been broken not long ago. You had picked up the fragments of who you were and built yourself anew. Fragile, yet stronger than ever. You could only be glad the manor had been kind enough not to give you any matches during this time.

Time marches on, unrelenting as the push and pull of the waves. Your stars turned blue, black, and yellow, filled with wishful thinking and occasional pleads. Nine hundred and ninety-nine bottles and jars gathered within your room, filling your closet, shelves, and even the bottom of your bed. Even though you knew it was useless, that your love was unrequited and that Ithaqua would never love you, the heart is a cruel, stubborn little thing.

Your heart never gave up on Ithaqua, even though your mind had long acknowledged he'd never be yours.

You were fine with that. Ithaqua had no obligation to you, and it was wrong of you to believe he would love you. It was completely fine for you to love him, but it wasn't okay for you to expect him to love you in the same way. Such thoughts would only hurt you when hit with reality. You'd suffered through it once, you didn't need to do so again.

You continued being friends with him, acting completely normal. Nothing changed, but that was fine with you. Keeping what you had now was more than enough. You kept trying to convince yourself that was true, but it felt like thorns were wrapping around your heart, flowers blooming painfully between your ribs.

"You love him!" Your heart cries.

"But he doesn't love me." You whisper back.

Distance would be the only way to heal you, and the best opportunity for it drops right onto your desk. A letter, stamped and sealed just like the one that invited you to the manor. It tells you that you may leave, that your reward for participating in the game would be given and that you were free.

You rush out of your room to find your fellow survivors cheering, crying, hugging, and laughing. After so many years stuck in the manor, you were finally able to leave. You were finally getting your rewards. 

It felt like a dream.

Happy beyond all reason, you run to the hunter's manor, finding that no celebrations were occurring. It quickly dawns on you that most of these people will not leave- couldn't. Most were dead, others were immortal, while some were people who simply couldn't be returned to society. Regardless, it seemed most of the hunters would never leave the manor, or would quietly fade away into the afterlife.

Ithaqua notices you from his corner of the room. He beckons you closer, so you walk towards him. Sitting yourself comfortably next to him, you explain the situation. He listens, humming occasionally as you show him the letter. Finally, he smiles.

"I'm happy for you."

It's simple, but sweet. You know he means it, but you kind of wish he didn't. After all, this had been your last hope, the last chance for him to show that he felt anything for you. 

You set yourself up for disappointment once more, hoping for love that he would never give.

So, you smile, nod, and say you'll be packing your things. You ignore the tears that blur your vision, the looks of pity Mary and Joseph give you, running away with a smile on your face as if truly excited to leave.

You had hoped he'd ask you to stay.

You had hoped he'd at least say that you were important to him, even as just a friend.

Perhaps even that was too much to expect.

Your love is like the moon, brilliant, beautiful, and powerful. However, in the face of almost complete apathy, of the unending night that shrouds you, what could you do?

Luggage isn't too much of an issue for you, especially considering you never brought much to the manor and never bought much either. The only things left were your paper stars.

You held the last jar, the thousandth one. You had finally completed your goal. However, there was no wish you could think of for yourself. You gained your freedom, your reward from the manor, and now, gave up completely on Ithaqua. There was nothing you desired.

Turning to face your closet, your grip on the jar tightens. You see the thousands, millions of stars staring back at you, a galaxy of color, filled with so much love and joy. It's almost painful to see it all, the proof of your existence within this manor, the proof of your love, shoved in a closet and never to be seen again.

You turn to your desk, glancing at the other jars that decorate it. You can see the imperfections on some of the stars, one crinkled far too much, another far too big. You remember all the time and effort that went into them, the words you had written, the feelings that went through you as you made them. It washes over you like a wave, and you let it.

Then, finally, you smile.

"I wish him love."

He deserves it. He deserves to be loved selflessly, in a way you probably couldn't offer him. He deserves to be held when it's cold, tenderly cared for when sick, shared jokes with sincerity, and above all else, happy.

So, carrying your luggage bag and a smile, you meet Ithaqua at the hunters manor. You place the jar of paper stars in his hands, eyes full of adoration as you let him go in your heart.

"Farewell, Ithaqua. I'm glad to have met you. Thank you for letting me get to know you and love you. I will never forget you."

You squeeze his hands around the jar, the pain in your chest bittersweet. You let go, pulling back and waving as you leave. He watches for a long time, even after you've long left.

Eventually, he lets his legs give out from under him. He lets his heart ache as he opens the jar to let the stars fall into his hands. Ithaqua cradles them like they're the most precious things in the world, an irreplaceable treasure that was worth more than his life.

He lets his shoulders shake, curling in on himself as he sobs. Tears fall from his eyes as his heart rips itself apart, only getting worse as he sees writing on a star. He unravels it slowly, carefully, as if it'll tear with even the slightest bit of pressure. His efforts are for naught, as in the end, his tears wet the paper and destroy the writing, ink smudging as his efforts to return it to normal shred the thin paper. Still, he remembers vividly the words written on it. He'll feel it forever seared into his heart and soul.