#like i accidentally had someone blocked for a whole half of a year

[fastianini]

nah because why does tumblr have a live feature too now

[movingmusically]

Hello! I saw this prompt years ago but have never seen anyone actually write it. I think you'd be perfect for it! Austin and co-star (reader, obv) have a sex scene together that they're filming. It is so intimate and spicy that reader actually (accidentally) has an orgasm. No one knows except her and Austin. The film crew are oblivious. They just think the acting was phenomenal. She's super embarrassed and tries to avoid him after. But eventually, they have to talk about it, right? I'll let you decide how to end it. The only thing I ask is that Austin is a sweetie (cause we know he would be) and that it doesn't have a sad ending. Hope you will write this! If not, i understand. Thank you!

Word Count: 8.2k

Masterlist

Unspoken - Part 1

You hadn’t known what to expect, exactly.

Austin had been friendly over Zoom, warm and low-key, but it was hard to tell what someone would be like in person—especially on a set like this. Small crew, no distractions, nowhere to hide behind glossy production. If it didn’t work between you, the whole thing would fall flat.

But it did.

From the read-through onwards, it had felt easy. Not instant chemistry—a quiet kind of comfort. The kind of working rhythm that didn’t need effort. He asked good questions, knew his lines without showing off, made quiet jokes when the room got too still. He was generous without making a show of it.

You got used to him fast.

By the end of the first week, it was already normal—splitting snacks, borrowing chargers, leaning your heads together over the sides of marked-up scripts. The film demanded closeness, and you slipped into it like it had always been there. Long takes, low lighting, scenes built on shared silences. Half your scenes were filmed with your knees touching.

It wasn’t flirty. You never caught him looking at you the way actors sometimes look when they forget where the cameras are. It wasn’t that.

He was just kind.

And that made it easy to match him.

You’d sit beside each other in makeup, legs stretched out, talking about nothing. Pass each other notes when the blocking didn’t make sense. Trade bad coffee on the days where breakfast had been skipped.

It helped that the film itself moved slowly. Years of friendship, worn soft around the edges, turning into something else. It was about trust. About timing. About all the ways people stop themselves from saying what they really mean.

And maybe that was why it worked so well between you.

You weren’t trying too hard.

You didn’t have to.

So when the call sheet landed in your inbox that Friday and Scene 87 was there—INT. BEDROOM – NIGHT—you tapped the attachment open, noted the time, flagged your sides, and closed it again.

You’d known about the intimacy scene from the start. It had been in the script, flagged clearly, nothing ambiguous about it. You’d spoken to your agent. Met with the intimacy coordinator, Lizzy. It had all been handled. Tidy. Professional.

You hadn’t thought about it in weeks.

The first rehearsal was set for late morning.

No cameras. No costumes. Just you, Austin, and Lizzy on one of the quiet rehearsal stages—black tape marking out the bed frame, a couple of chairs off to the side, printouts and notes and breath mints on the foldout table in the corner.

You’d dressed for comfort—oversized hoodie, joggers you could move in. Something low-effort. Unremarkable. You were early. Austin arrived a couple of minutes later, T-shirt soft and familiar, hair still damp like he’d only just rolled out of a shower and straight into daylight.

He gave you a smile.

“Hey,” he said. “You sleep?”

“Define sleep.”

He nudged your elbow with his. “You’ll be great.”

Lizzy talked you through everything. No acting yet. No emotion. Just spacing. Breath. Weight distribution. A choreography of intention.

This hand here. Pause. Step across. Sit. Press of the hips. Shift weight. Hold. Reset.

It was fine.

Fine in the way things are when you’re concentrating hard enough that your body doesn’t have time to interpret what’s happening. Every moment had a cue. Every touch was mapped. There was no room for awkwardness when there were angles to hit, timing to remember, direction to follow.

Austin was calm beside you. Clear. Always asking before he touched you. Always quiet when he did. “Here okay?” “This side?” “Let me know if anything’s off.”

It made it easier to breathe.

And then—somewhere in the second hour—your body slid into position over his, knees bracketing his thighs, hands placed exactly where Lizzy had marked, and your eyes met at the top of the next beat.

It didn’t last long.

Half a second, maybe less. Long enough for something to catch low in your throat.

It wasn’t his expression—it was the stillness. The weight of being seen from that close, that carefully. Like you were both holding a match between your teeth and trying not to breathe too hard.

Then Lizzy reset the moment. Adjusted the timing. Moved you on.

You exhaled. Stepped back. Pulled your hoodie on.

Your skin felt warmer than it had when you arrived.

You didn’t wake up thinking about the scene.

You had errands to run before your call time, and a voice note from your sister about some family drama you didn’t want to get dragged into. You had other things on your mind.

But your body remembered.

Not the shape of the scene, exactly. More the feeling of being in it with him—close and quiet and not entirely sure where your breath was supposed to land. You’d shaken it off last night, told yourself it was nothing, but something had settled low in your stomach and hadn’t moved since.

The second rehearsal was longer. Slower.

You got there five minutes early again. Austin was already inside this time, barefoot, stretching in that loose, lazy way that somehow made him look like he belonged there more than anyone else. He glanced up as you walked in.

“Morning,” he said, soft and a little rough around the edges.

You dropped your bag by the wall. “How’s the caffeine situation?”

He smiled. “Better than yesterday. Tastes like actual coffee.”

Lizzy appeared a moment later, warm as ever. “Alright, team. Let’s pick up where we left off.”

This session was about layering. You’d done the bones of it—now came the rhythm. More eye contact. Partial dialogue. Transitions between physical beats. Still clothed. Still private. But closer.

You moved through the choreography again, syncing your breath to his, feeling his hand find its place at the small of your back like it had always been meant to rest there. The movements were slow, deliberate. Lizzy’s voice floated in from the edge of the room, guiding but never interrupting.

“Let the hesitation sit. Don’t rush past it. You don’t know if you’re allowed to want this yet. That’s where the tension lives.”

You nodded. You did know that. You’d read it. Felt it. But when you looked up and found Austin’s eyes already on yours—steady, unreadable, entirely focused—it landed somewhere lower than the page.

His hand shifted slightly. Not new choreography. A gentle adjustment, thumb pressing into the curve above your hip. Your breath caught for half a second before you remembered what came next.

You hit your mark. Let him guide the movement. Said the line. All of it exactly as planned.

But it felt different now.

Not intimate exactly.

Kind of… charged.

Like your skin was paying more attention than it should.

You tried not to overthink it. You were tired. You’d had too much coffee. It was just a long week.

But when you stepped away during a break and uncapped your water bottle, your hands were shaking slightly. And when he brushed past you to grab a copy of the notes, your body tracked him before your eyes did.

It was only awareness, you told yourself. That’s all.

Still, when the rehearsal wrapped, you left without saying much. Just a wave. A quiet, “See you tomorrow.”

And when you got home, you didn’t turn the shower on right away. You stood there, in the centre of your bathroom, trying to name what you were feeling.

And failing.

By the third day, it was muscle memory.

The basic choreography had sunk in—weight, timing, the way your breathing had to shift depending on whose hand was moving where. It wasn’t second nature exactly, but it no longer required so much conscious effort. Your body knew what to do before Lizzy even called the beat.

You’d kept your hoodie on through warm-up. Stretched your arms, read through the notes again, checked your cue lines even though there weren’t many in this part of the scene. But when it came time to start, you pulled the hoodie off and folded it neatly to the side.

You were down to joggers and a sports bra now. Modesty garment already in place beneath the waistband—silicone-lined, taped down. It didn’t cover much, but it did enough. You were quietly grateful for it. That, and the way Lizzy explained everything like it was just another technical element—same as a light cue or a lens change.

She ran through the new additions with her usual steadiness.

“Austin, your hand will go under the waistband. Just placement—over the shibue. No movement. You”—she turned to you—“will roll your hips twice. That’s the entire rhythm for today.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

Austin looked over. “All good?”

“Yeah,” you said. “All good.”

You lay back, joggers soft beneath your fingers, and let your legs bend into position. Austin settled between your knees, braced one hand beside your shoulder, and waited for the mark.

On cue, his hand moved under the waistband—warm, steady, fingers spread wide enough to cover the space he needed to hit. The contact wasn’t rough, wasn’t wandering. Simply there.

You rolled your hips once.

Then again.

Not a grind. Not even a proper press. Only the motion. The suggestion. His hand stayed still.

It didn’t feel like anything, really. A moment of pressure and a reminder of how close the camera would eventually be. The modesty garment stayed where it was supposed to. That was the only thing you registered—that and the fact that your exhale felt a little too controlled when you came back down.

The scene paused.

You sat up and adjusted your waistband. The edge of the shibue tugged slightly where it had been taped, but it was fine. Not enough to worry about, but enough to feel it.

Lizzy marked the note, nodded once. “Again when you’re ready.”

You glanced at Austin. He gave the smallest nod.

You breathed out. Repositioned.

You were fine.

Just warm all over, and very glad the garment did what it promised.

You knew the choreography now.

Every beat had been mapped. You’d talked it through with Lizzy and Austin, with the director, with wardrobe. You’d written your own version of the scene in your notes—a series of bullet points, clean and factual, so it didn’t feel like anything else.

But standing on set that afternoon, barefoot on the edge of the taped-out space, it hit you that this would be the last time you ran it before the cameras were rolling. That the next time you did this, you’d both be fully undressed—just the modesty garments left between you, and not much else.

You adjusted the waistband of your joggers for the third time, even though it didn’t need it.

Austin was sitting on the edge of the bed frame, script in hand, thumb running a slow line down the margin. He looked calm. Focused. Not performing yet—allowing the moment to settle around him.

Lizzy’s voice broke the quiet.

“Alright. Today we’ll run the full scene, blocking and pacing. We’ll work in the breast contact—touch, mouth—if you’re both still comfortable. We won’t pause unless someone calls reset.”

You nodded. “Yep.”

Austin echoed it beside you. “All okay here.”

The hoodie came off before you stepped into place. You handed it to the wardrobe assistant and kept your arms folded across your chest until Lizzy gave the go.

Then you lay back on the bed. Arms at your sides. Skin already prickling from the air.

Austin climbed in carefully—one knee first, then the other. His hands moved with that same, steady confidence they always had. He kissed your shoulder first, then your collarbone. Not rushed. he eased you both into it.

Then his hand came up.

A cupped, warm press to your breast. Placed deliberately. You could feel the heat of it seeping through your chest in a way you hadn’t fully registered in the abstract.

His head lowered next.

He hovered above you—mouth angled toward your breast, close enough that you could feel his breath as it passed over your skin. He held that position while Lizzy circled behind the camera line, checking visibility, framing. You stayed still. So did he. No contact.

Only the space between.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just held the shape of it while Lizzy walked around the perimeter, watching angles, checking marks. Her voice was a background rhythm. Reassuring.

Then came the final cue.

Austin’s hand slipped under the waistband of your joggers again, warm and still over the modesty barrier. His other hand braced beside your shoulder.

You rolled your hips. Once. Then again.

You felt the pressure land the way it was meant to. Controlled. Calibrated. Friction implied, not enacted.

Then stillness.

Reset.

He pulled back carefully. Rolled off the mattress. Extended his hand without needing to ask.

“You alright?” he said, voice low, just for you.

You nodded as he helped you sit. “Yeah. You?”

He gave a small smile. “Glad it’s with you.”

You looked at him properly then. Not in character. Not through the lens of the scene. Him. Quiet. Steady. Present.

“Same,” you said.

And you meant it.

You got there early.

Not because you were nervous—more out of habit now. One last quiet moment before everything tipped into movement. The lights were set, soft and low, casting the bed in that kind of glow the DP loved. There was a stillness to it that felt almost too peaceful for what was about to happen.

You heard the door open behind you but didn’t turn right away.

Austin’s footsteps were familiar now. So was the quiet.

He came to stand beside you, hands in his pockets. Didn’t say anything for a second. He looked out at the space like you were both about to do something much simpler. Like any other scene. He was calm in that quiet, grounded way he always was right before a take.

He glanced at the bed. Then at you.

“Well,” he said, easy, “if this is the day I forget everything we rehearsed, now’s a fun time to find out.”

You huffed a soft laugh. “No pressure.”

“Nah,” he said. “We’ve got it.”

It wasn’t cocky. Just said with the kind of calm certainty that made your shoulders drop a little.

He looked at you properly then—a beat longer than necessary. Not searching. Simply present.

“We’re fine,” he said. “Feels like we’ve already done it a hundred times anyway.”

“We kind of have,” you said. “But clothed. And with a smaller audience.”

He smiled at that.

And that was enough.

When Lizzy’s voice came through the monitor—“We’re ready when you are”—he didn’t even blink. He tipped his head slightly toward the bed.

“Shall we?”

You nodded once. “Let’s go.”

And together, you stepped into the scene.

You were already on the bed when they called action.

Sitting near the edge, legs folded under you, fingers curled lightly in the hem of your t-shirt. This part of the scene didn’t ask much of you except stillness. Waiting. The kind that held its breath.

You heard the door creak softly as he entered.

The sound of him was familiar now—bare footsteps, quiet breath, that stillness he carried when the scene asked for it. You stayed still, like the script said. Eyes down. Shoulders held a little too tightly.

He stopped just inside the room.

“You left,” he said, voice low. Like it might break something if he spoke too loud.

You looked up.

He was already watching you. T-shirt rumpled slightly, hair a little messy like he’d been running his hands through it. His mouth opened, then closed again. You waited.

“I didn’t want to say something I couldn’t take back,” you said.

He nodded. Not because he agreed. Because he understood.

“I didn’t want it to end like that,” he said. “Not with you.”

That was the moment the scene turned.

The shift you’d rehearsed. The beat the whole film had been circling.

He stepped closer and sat beside you on the bed, steady and familiar. The mattress dipped under his weight. His hand found balance behind you. His knee brushed yours.

Neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t empty—it was full of every version of this that never happened. Every almost. Every nearly.

You turned toward him.

He was close. Closer than usual. The kind of close that made silence feel like a question.

His eyes flicked down—your mouth, your hands—then came back up to meet yours again.

You moved first—only slightly.

He met you without hesitation.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. A breath before it landed. You could feel the warmth of him, the way his lips moved against yours like he’d already memorised the shape of it. His hand rested lightly on your leg. Yours slipped up to his chest.

The second kiss came a little deeper. Not rushed. Certain. The kind of kiss that filled a room without raising its voice.

His mouth tasted faintly of mint.

You stayed with it, let it build, felt it start to root somewhere deeper than rehearsal.

Still in character. Still focused.

But something in your chest had shifted. Something slow and warm and creeping.

You weren’t tracking marks or pacing anymore.

You were just kissing him.

And he was kissing you back like it meant something.

His hand slid up beneath your shirt. Warm across your stomach, steady as he pushed the fabric up. He knew the beat. You’d rehearsed it. You shifted to help, lifting your arms, letting him ease the fabric over your head. He dropped it off the side of the bed. You were already breathing differently.

You reached for his shirt in return, fingers brushing his skin as you pulled it over his head. He let you. No pause, no shift in rhythm. Now skin against skin, your chest rising against his with every breath.

You kissed him again.

And this time, as your mouths met, you moved—slowly—easing one leg over his lap, settling against him.

The bed creaked softly beneath you. His hands came to your thighs, anchoring you there. One slid up, fingers splaying lightly at your waist. The other stayed low, grounding you.

You felt the shape of him under you. Not against your bare skin—not yet—but close. Closer than rehearsal. The weight of him, the pressure of his hands, the way his eyes kept flicking between your mouth and your eyes, like the scene was happening in two places at once.

His lips trailed lower.

Down your jaw, your throat, the curve of your collarbone.

You tilted your head slightly to give him room.

His hand came up to your chest.

Fingers spreading. Thumb brushing across your breast.

You felt your nipples tighten at the contact—part from the cool air, part from the way he touched you. Careful. Measured. You’d practised this, but it felt different now the barrier of your sports bra had disappeared. He cupped you fully in his palm, and then—

His mouth followed.

Warm, soft, unhurried. Lips closing around your nipple, tongue catching enough to make you shift slightly in his lap. You kept your breathing even, stayed in character, but your body was already reacting. The scene didn’t ask for more than this yet. But you could feel something gathering. Low and quiet.

Then he looked up.

His mouth still on your skin. His eyes meeting yours.

And for a second, everything else dropped away.

You were just watching him watch you.

You inhaled, chest rising against his mouth.

And you felt yourself begin to lean into it.

His lips lingered another second, then lifted.

His hand slid from your breast back down to your waist, and with a shift in his weight, you both began to move, easing back across the mattress. You stayed close, bodies aligned as you let him guide you down.

He hovered over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other trailing lightly over your ribs. The rhythm didn’t break. This was where the pause lived. A breath. Something unspoken passing between two people who’d been circling this forever.

Your legs bent beneath him. The sheet rustled.

Then his hand slipped lower.

Fingers sliding beneath the waistband of your shorts, past the edge of fabric, finding the smooth barrier taped carefully into place. His palm settled there, warm and solid. You’d rehearsed it, but it landed heavier now. Like your body had started listening more closely.

You rolled your hips—once.

Then again.

The pressure landed right where it was meant to. Precise. Calibrated. But sharper than you remembered.

You felt it instantly. A flicker of heat. Something low and tightening that hadn’t been there in rehearsal. Your body responding like it didn’t know the difference between performance and something else.

You blinked.

Tried to breathe through it. Tried to shake it off.

It’s choreography, you told yourself. Muscle memory. Contact over fabric. Nothing real.

But your chest felt tighter. Your limbs too aware of his weight above you, the way his gaze tracked every shift in yours.

You could stop. That thought surfaced—quick and quiet. If you tapped out, they’d cut. Reset. No one would question it.

But you didn’t.

Because nothing was wrong.

He hadn’t broken the scene. He hadn’t pushed or rushed or taken anything that wasn’t given. He was exactly where he was supposed to be, moving the way you’d rehearsed, watching you like he always did—with focus, with care, never with pressure.

You held still.

There was a flicker of heat low in your stomach. You noticed it. Filed it away. Only your body reacting to pressure, to breath, to rhythm. It would pass.

You’d trained for this. Layered every beat, anchored every moment. You could hold this.

Austin didn’t falter. His touch stayed steady. His eyes never left yours.

There was no hesitation in him. He was all presence, all intention.

So you stayed with him.

And he kept going—rhythm unchanged, breath slow, every movement shaped by the scene you were both holding in place.

He eased his hand back out from beneath your waistband.

No rush. It was part of the scene. The breath before the shift.

You let yours out slowly, fingers moving to the hem of your shorts. He reached for them too. Together, you pulled them down, until you had to lift your hips to help. They slid free with barely a sound. He tossed them aside.

Then he sat back on his heels and reached for his own waistband.

You stayed where you were, watching. A second too long.

His sweatpants came off easily, the soft fabric catching briefly at his knees before falling to the floor. You hadn’t meant to stare. But something about seeing him now—fully undressed except for the small, skin-coloured patch covering what the camera wouldn’t see—pulled your focus.

The shape of him. The way his body moved. The way he carried the stillness without tensing.

You’d never seen him like this. Not really. You’d mapped every moment, but now there was no extra layer. No fabric between the weight of him and the heat of you.

Your skin prickled. You blinked, looked away.

This was still a scene. Still choreography. You knew the rhythm. You knew your cues.

You lay back.

He followed.

Came over you slowly, hands bracketing your ribs, one thigh nudging between yours as his body lowered into place.

Then he kissed you.

It was meant to be soft. Familiar. A continuation of what came before.

And it was—until it wasn’t.

His mouth moved against yours like it always had, but this time, as his hips settled into position, his tongue brushed over yours.

The faintest flick. Tentative at first, then firmer.

You didn’t expect it.

The breath caught in your throat. A sound slipped out—half sigh, half noise you didn’t recognise.

You felt him pause, for a heartbeat.

Then the kiss deepened.

He held the shape of your mouth with his, steady and warm, letting the scene carry on like nothing had changed.

But something had.

Your fingers curled against his back. Your legs shifted slightly wider. The rhythm began—hip to hip, friction finding its place.

You were still in character.

Still hitting your marks.

But the sound you’d made hadn’t been planned.

Your body was reacting before your brain could reason with it.

He moved again.

Controlled. Deliberate. His hips pressing forward in the pace you’d agreed on, fabric brushing fabric, pressure steady between you. There was no rush, no fumbling. Only that quiet escalation the scene called for.

You felt him shift his weight slightly, adjusting the angle. His hand stayed firm at your waist, the other beside your head, fingers flexing once into the mattress. Your legs shifted higher, wrapping around his waist for the mark.

Then came the sounds.

Small, intentional—part of the scene.

His breath, unsteady but measured. A soft grunt on the next roll of his hips, just under his breath. The kind of sound meant to suggest release without exaggeration. Practised. Real enough to land.

You felt it all.

The weight of him. The tension in his arms. The way his jaw brushed yours when he dipped close, exhaling like he was on the edge of something.

He was performing it.

You knew that.

You’d heard it in rehearsal. You’d run it with Lizzy counting beats at the foot of the bed. But now—now with him above you, eyes flicking between your mouth and your face, his body rocking against yours like you were the only two people left in the world—it felt like more.

You lifted your hips to meet him again.

The friction was too good. Too exact. Every pass catching perfectly over the spot you were trying not to think about.

The heat bloomed fast.

You tried to breathe through it. Tried to stay with the scene. But your body wasn’t listening.

Austin let out another soft sound, low in his throat as he pressed into you again.

That’s what did it.

Not the contact. Not even the movement.

But that sound.

And then it hit.

A clench deep in your belly. Tight, hard, spreading in slow, impossible waves. Your legs tensed. Your breath caught.

It passed through you fast—quiet, sharp, almost invisible.

You didn’t cry out.

But your fingers curled. Your thighs trembled once. Your lips parted just enough to let something slip free—barely a sound.

Austin didn’t flinch.

He kept going. Perfectly on cue. Still in it. Still steady.

But in that second, as he looked down at you again, something in his eyes flickered.

And you wondered if he’d felt it too.

He kept moving, breath low and strained in his throat. You could feel the tension in his body—measured, deliberate—the kind of control that came from rehearsal, not instinct.

His hand slid from your waist to your thigh, anchoring you. His head dipped to your shoulder, and you felt his jaw flex as his body rolled once more into yours.

A soft sound escaped him. Weighted. Part of the scene. Part of the finish.

Then he kissed you again.

Gentle. Breathless. Like something settling.

His weight lowered onto you slightly.

You stayed still.

Your heart was hammering. Your skin flushed.

Shit.

Fuck.

No. No, no—

It had happened. You knew it. You could feel it still humming in your body, the aftershocks settling beneath your ribs. Nothing dramatic. Nothing obvious. But real.

You came.

On camera.

With everyone watching.

“Cut.”

The word sliced through the air.

Austin’s body stilled above you. He exhaled through his nose and lifted his head slightly, hands braced to push off without pulling too fast. You stayed perfectly still beneath him, blinking up at the ceiling, trying not to let the shape of what had happened show on your face.

There was a pause. One of those charged, still seconds where no one moved—only the buzz of silence settling into the space you’d created.

Then:

“Holy shit,” came the director’s voice from behind the monitor.

Sharp. Breathless. Immediately followed by, “That was beautiful.”

Chairs scraped. People exhaled. The moment broke.

“Let’s reset for coverage,” she called. “But I want that one in the cut. That was—” A pause. “It didn’t feel like acting.”

Someone nearby murmured agreement. You heard the script supervisor say “Gave me chills.” Another voice—camera maybe—added, “The eye contact? Jesus.”

Lizzy stepped in from the edge of frame, already talking through small adjustments for the next take. Her tone was warm, reassuring. “You okay?” she asked, gently, already reaching out with a robe for each of you.

You nodded. Managed a small sound—something halfway between a breath and a “yeah.”

Austin rolled off you slowly, bracing a hand beside your shoulder as he shifted his weight. You felt the air hit your chest and pulled the robe over yourself without looking up.

He stayed close for a second longer than necessary. Not hovering, but steady. Grounding.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low.

There was something in it. More than routine concern. Something deeper. He’d felt it. Knew, at least on some level, what had happened. And he wasn’t pretending otherwise.

You nodded too quickly. “Fine.”

He held your gaze for half a second longer—long enough to make your chest tighten—then gave a small nod and stood.

He offered his hand. You took it. Let him help you sit. Fingers clumsy at the robe’s tie.

Everyone else was still buzzing. Still riding the afterglow of a great take. Austin was already standing, sweatpants back on, robe loose around his shoulders, listening as Lizzy walked him through a minor camera shift.

He looked completely calm.

You tried to mirror it.

Tried to focus as someone handed you your shorts, your t-shirt folded neatly over them. You took them without speaking, your fingers trembling slightly as you clutched them to your chest.

“I mean it,” the director said again, her voice carrying across the room. “That was the best work I’ve seen from either of you. Whatever you tapped into—don’t let it go.”

The words landed too close. Too accurate.

You forced a smile. A nod.

Everyone read the look on your face as emotional exhaustion. Commitment. Like you were still in it. Someone even whispered, “She’s really gone there,” like it was a compliment.

And you didn’t correct them.

You kept your eyes on the floor. On the nearest mark. On anything but him.

The corridor felt too bright after the bedroom set.

Not blinding. Wrong, somehow. Like the light hadn’t caught up to the rest of you yet.

You kept your robe cinched tight, clothes folded against your chest. Someone passed with a clipboard. Another crew member rolled a rack of jackets toward storage. Everyone moved like the day was done.

You’d moved too. Through the coverage takes, through resets, through minor adjustments no one would remember tomorrow. They hadn’t needed the whole scene again—a few moments. Different angles. Fragments for the edit.

You’d hit every mark.

You’d said the line over his shoulder, felt his hand at your jaw, let him kiss the corner of your mouth while pretending your legs weren’t still shaking.

And you hadn’t looked at him once.

Not properly.

You’d seen him, of course—getting notes, sipping water, slipping back into his hoodie between takes. Once, you’d felt his gaze brush yours across the room and looked away so quickly you nearly knocked over a chair.

No one noticed.

They thought you were exhausted. Spent.

They were right, but not in the way they meant.

A PA held the door open as you stepped into wardrobe. You nodded in thanks and moved straight to your rail, pulling your hanger from the hook like you’d done a hundred times this shoot.

Shirt. Jeans. The things that made you feel like yourself.

You changed fast. Mechanically. Robe off, clothes on, avoiding the mirror. You didn’t want to see the flush still high on your chest, the way your eyes didn’t quite look back at you.

A voice echoed faintly down the corridor—low, familiar.

Austin.

You didn’t catch the words. Just the sound of him, talking to someone, maybe Lizzy or the director. You froze halfway through tying your shoe.

Then you turned—quietly—and slipped out the other way.

The hallway to the dressing rooms was half-lit, most of the crew already packing up elsewhere. You walked faster than you needed to, fingers still curled tightly around the edge of your script even though you hadn’t looked at it since morning.

Inside your room, the door clicked shut behind you.

No mirrors. No cameras. Just stillness.

And for the first time all day, you let yourself exhale.

You stayed in the dressing room longer than you needed to.

Not long enough for anyone to notice. Enough for the hallway to settle. The noise had drifted elsewhere—footsteps fading, radios crackling in the distance. Your bag was already packed. Your hoodie was looped over one arm. All you had to do was leave.

You pressed your palm to the door for a second before opening it. Breathed once. Then stepped out.

The lights were dimmed to end-of-day levels. Most of the crew had already headed out. You turned left toward the exit you knew would be quickest—then paused.

Austin was up ahead.

He stood near the back entrance, hoodie on, bag slung low over one shoulder. Talking to Lizzy in a low voice, both of them facing the far wall, mid-discussion.

He turned first.

Then Lizzy, already smiling as if to say goodbye. She peeled off toward the side hall.

And Austin looked at you.

His eyes met yours before you could drop them. Just a second. No expression. No smile. Only… watching.

You felt your whole chest tighten.

You shifted your grip on your bag and went back the way you came, turning right instead. Not the exit you’d planned. The long way round. The concrete floor echoed faintly under your shoes. You kept your pace even—steady, controlled.

And when you glanced back, he was still watching.

He didn’t follow. Didn’t call out.

He let you go.

You turned back, gaze low, and didn’t lift it again until the air hit your face. Then walked all the way to your car without looking back.

Your apartment was dark when you got in.

Not pitch black—a soft, shadowed quiet, the kind that comes from forgetting to leave a light on. You didn’t bother fixing it. You dropped your bag in the hallway, kicked off your shoes, and stood there for a second, still wrapped in the quiet.

The silence wrapped around you too easily.

You peeled off your hoodie. Slipped into the kitchen to drink half a glass of water you didn’t really want. Let the fridge hum fill the corners of the room.

Your phone lit up on the counter.

Austin: Hey. Just wanted to check in. Hope you’re okay.

No emojis. No overthinking. It was him—true to form. Simple. Present. Kind.

You stared at it too long.

Part of you wanted to reply. To say yeah, all good, or thanks for earlier. Something normal. Something easy.

But your fingers didn’t move.

Because nothing about today had been normal. And easy didn’t feel honest.

So you flipped the phone over.

Screen facedown. Lights off. Bedroom door shut behind you.

And you let the message sit there, unread.

You hadn’t slept much.

Every time you closed your eyes, it came back—his body over yours, the weight of his gaze, the press of his hand, the exact second your body slipped past the edge and didn’t come back.

And the way he looked at you after.

He knew.

You were sure of it. It wasn’t a guess. It was in his voice when he asked if you were alright. In the pause before he stood. In the way his eyes had stayed on you even as the crew moved around you, like they were part of a different scene altogether.

He knew.

And he hadn’t said anything.

Neither had you.

You’d run the pickups. Dressed. Walked past him. Left the message on your phone unanswered.

And now you were sitting in your dressing room with your script in your lap, pretending to focus, your coffee untouched, your stomach tight. Reading the same half-page of dialogue about burnt toast and unsaid feelings, over and over again.

Today’s scene was simple.

But facing him wouldn’t be.

The door was open. You’d left it that way on purpose—some part of you hoping someone else might fill the space first. A call time. A wardrobe check. Anything.

Instead, there was a knock.

Soft. Two gentle taps against the frame.

You looked up.

Austin.

He was leaning lightly on the doorframe, one shoulder braced, sleeves pulled down over his knuckles. He wasn’t smiling. He watched you, calm and still.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

His voice was steady. But you could feel something underneath it.

You didn’t answer right away.

You blinked slowly, heart thudding harder than it needed to, your fingers still curled loosely around the edge of the script.

He waited.

Didn’t fill the silence. Didn’t take a step inside.

You nodded—small, barely there—and lifted one hand in a quiet gesture.

Come in.

He did.

Closed the door behind him, soft click of wood meeting frame, and crossed the room with the kind of unhurried calm that made you want to both shrink into your chair and lean toward him at the same time.

He didn’t sit yet. He paused there for a moment, giving you the chance to change your mind.

You looked down at the pages in your lap, then folded them closed. Not because you were ready. Because there was no point pretending anymore.

Your voice came out quieter than you meant. “Sorry I didn’t reply.”

Austin gave a small shake of his head, stepping further into the room.

“You don’t have to apologise.”

His voice was gentle. Uncomplicated. Meant to land softly.

He sat down opposite you—not too close, not too formal. Elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped lightly, like he wasn’t sure how long this would take but had already decided to wait as long as you needed.

“I didn’t send it expecting anything,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You nodded—once—but it felt like too much and not enough at the same time.

He didn’t press. He gave you that look again—level and open, like he had time. Like there was no version of this where he walked away without at least letting you speak.

The silence held for a beat.

Then two.

You let out a quiet breath and glanced down at your script again, thumb smoothing the folded corner like it might give you something useful to say. Then back up at him—finally—and cleared your throat.

“Okay,” you started, already flushed. “I’m just gonna say it, and then maybe I’ll dissolve into the floor and we can pretend this never happened.”

He didn’t interrupt.

You kept going, even though your voice caught halfway through.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” you said. “I didn’t even realise what was happening, not really—not until it was already…”

You trailed off, the words stalling somewhere in your chest.

“I didn’t fake it, Austin. It happened. It caught me off guard. And I didn’t know what to do with that. So I panicked. And left. And ignored your message. And thought about quitting acting and taking up landscape gardening.”

The heat in your face was instant. Crawling up your neck, into your ears.

“I don’t know if you knew. I mean—I think you did. You looked at me like maybe…”

You didn’t finish.

You didn’t need to.

Because he was already smiling—soft, crooked, steady.

“Well,” he said, tilting his head a little, “if it helps��� you were very convincing.”

Your stomach flipped. The colour in your face doubled. You let out the most horrified sound of your life and dropped your face into your hands.

“Oh my god.”

He laughed, warm and gentle. Like he wasn’t shocked. Like it really, truly was okay.

You kept your face in your hands for a full three seconds longer than necessary.

Then peeked through your fingers.

He was still smiling—steady, soft around the edges. Like you’d given him something fragile and he’d known exactly how to hold it.

“I’m never going to work again,” you mumbled into your palms.

“Pretty sure that’s not true.”

“I might actually be the least professional person alive.”

“That also seems unlikely.”

You let your hands fall into your lap, still half-hiding behind your hair.

“I mean… who does that?”

Austin tilted his head, like he was giving it actual thought.

“Someone really committed to the scene?”

You groaned and leaned back in the chair. “Stop.”

He laughed—quiet, shoulders shaking a little. Then softer, “I’m serious. I don’t think anyone on that set had a clue. And even if they did—” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “They’re not thinking about it the way you are.”

You looked at him. Properly.

“And you?” you asked, voice quieter. “How are you thinking about it?”

He didn’t look away.

“I think… it happened. That’s all. I think we built something that felt real, and that’s kind of the point, right?” His voice softened again. “And if it felt too real for a second—I’d rather that than the opposite.”

Your heart kicked hard in your chest.

You didn’t know what you expected him to say. But it wasn’t that.

Something in you eased.

Like maybe you weren’t going to break after all.

You let out a slow breath, eyes still on him. “I thought you might be weird about it.”

“I thought you might be,” he said, smiling gently.

You huffed a laugh, the sound catching at the edges. “I nearly sprinted out of here yesterday.”

His eyebrows lifted.

“Okay—did sprint,” you admitted. “And yeah, I took the long way out so I wouldn’t have to walk past you.”

Austin gave a small, helpless shrug. “You know I saw that, right?”

You winced. “Of course you did.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Wasn’t exactly subtle.”

You dropped your head back against the chair and groaned. “Kill me.”

“Nah,” he said. “I need you for the press tour.”

Then, after a beat—“I mean…” He leaned back in the chair, playful now. “If someone asks about chemistry, I feel like I’ve got material.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’m just saying,” he teased. “If anyone brings up method acting, I’ve got a pretty strong anecdote now.”

You grabbed your script and batted him lightly with it. “I will actually murder you.”

You pulled the script back into your lap, still half-smiling, still a little red.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward this time.

It was warm. Settled.

You watched him for a moment—he shifted into his chair bouncing his knee once before going still again. Like the nervous energy had nowhere left to go.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

He looked up.

“For being…” You shook your head a little. “Exactly like this.”

His smile faded a little—softened into something more serious.

“Of course,” he said. “Always.”

There was a knock at the door before you could say anything else. A voice from the hallway. “Ten minutes!”

You both nodded at the same time.

He stood first. Adjusted the hem of his shirt, then glanced at you again like he wanted to say one more thing—but left it unspoken.

“I’ll see you out there?” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He paused in the doorway for a second. Long enough to make sure you were really okay.

Then he was gone.

And somehow, your chest didn’t feel quite so tight anymore.

*

The lights were flat and bright, designed for cameras more than comfort. The table was long — eight chairs wide — with placards lined in front of each seat and slim-necked water bottles sweating quietly beside them. The Cannes logo loomed behind like a watermark, and half the room was journalists with notebooks already open.

Austin sat third from the left. Y/N was to his right.

From where he sat, Austin could see the top of her knee bouncing—small, contained, but constant. A nervous tic she usually didn’t have. She was good under pressure, sharp during interviews, but something in her posture today was tighter. More alert. Like she was already rehearsing the answer in her head. The movement stopped the second someone asked about that scene.

“This one’s for Y/N and Austin,” the journalist said. “I wanted to ask about the intimacy scene. It’s a sex scene, technically, but it’s incredibly quiet. Almost reverent. There’s a lot of emotion but very little exaggeration. How did you approach that?”

Austin turned just enough to see her profile.

The stillness came first. Her inhale was shallow — barely there — but he caught it. That tiny moment of bracing. Like she knew this question was coming. Of course she did. They both did.

But it still landed.

He hadn’t forgotten what happened. Not for a second.

It was over a year ago now — and still, sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could feel it. The shape of her breath against his mouth. The moment her legs tensed. The sound she made, barely audible. So small he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t already been watching for it.

Not because he was trying to catch her out.

Because the second it started, he’d known.

The shift was subtle. A tremble just beneath the rhythm. The way her eyes lost focus for half a beat, like her body had slipped somewhere without her permission.

It had felt… private. More than anything else they’d filmed.

She hadn’t pulled away. Hadn’t flinched. Hadn’t asked to cut.

So he hadn’t said a word.

He stayed where he was, kept the pacing right, and pretended he didn’t feel her come apart underneath him.

But he had.

And he’d thought about it more times than he probably should have.

Across from him now, she leaned slightly toward the mic.

“I think that tone was always intentional,” Y/N said. “Our intimacy coordinator — Lizzy — was with us from the beginning, and we rehearsed it like choreography. Every beat. Every moment. Nothing was improvised.”

Austin watched her closely.

She sounded calm. Grounded. But there was something in the way she kept her eyes focused just above the crowd — like she was holding a line and didn’t want to step over it.

“I think because so much of the film is about restraint,” she went on, “we knew the payoff had to match that. It wasn’t about tension exploding. It was about the weight of finally letting go. And Lizzy really helped us hold that tone—technically and emotionally.”

His chest pulled a little at the last line.

She was still protecting it. The secret of what had happened.

No one else in that room knew what had really happened. Not the director. Not the camera op. Not even Lizzy.

Only them.

When the room quieted again, Austin leaned into the mic.

“Y/N’s right,” he said. “We built everything on that foundation. Trust. Patience. Rehearsing until the tension wasn’t coming from discomfort — it was coming from the story.”

Out of the corner of his eye, her hand shifted slightly on her lap.

His gaze flicked to hers — not a full turn. Enough to let her know he was there. Still holding it with her. Still following her rhythm.

“I think that kind of quiet is harder to get right than people realise,” he added. “It only worked because she was right there with me in every moment.”

“I think we got lucky. I don’t know if that kind of trust happens on every job. But Y/N made it easy. She made it feel… honest.”

He meant it.

Not only as an actor.

There was a version of him that had felt something real in that moment. More than the weight of her under him — it was the trust she’d shown by letting the scene keep going.

She could’ve stopped him. Could’ve paused. Could’ve broken the frame and called cut.

But she didn’t.

And he’d been in awe of her ever since.

The journalist smiled. “It really was beautiful.”

There were nods. The moderator moved on. Someone else raised a hand.

And under the table, he felt it.

The lightest pressure. Her knee nudging gently against his.

Not insistent. Not drawing attention.

Simply there.

Like punctuation. Like thank you.

He nudged back.

Didn’t look at her. Didn’t need to.

But he smiled at the tablecloth anyway.

And let himself wonder—

just for a second—

what it might feel like if the next time wasn’t for a scene at all.

Taglist:

@thefallofthedamned @saturnsdaughtr @bellesdreamyprofile @butlerrizz @myradiaz @chocolatetree222 @faegoddessog

[thekissofaphrodite]

I Grew this for you, Ives.

Luke Castellan X Daughter of Demeter! Reader

Summary: Your secret meetup with your boyfriend, Luke, might have been interrupted by Percy Jackson.

Warnings: MakeUp...MAKEOUT- I MEAN. Language (Tell me if i missed one!)

Author's note: It might be kinda weird that the title doesn't match the summary but trust me, it's worth reading. + If you saw a fic from another blog the same as this i requested it and decided i wanna make the fic myself.

___

New kid, New responsibility. You were known as being motherly towards every kid that stepped in Camp Half Blood. And Maybe, Just maybe, Percy Jackson considered you as his Camp Mom, It wasn't new for older campers seeing a new 12 year old boy follow you around and look up at you with big puppy eyes along with Grover's confused look, but oh well.

Ever since your Godly Mother, Demeter has claimed you, Luke has called you Ives since then. It all happened when three years ago, you ended up in Camp Half blood after your mortal father has been killed by a chimera, much to his sacrifice, You might have offered some small offerings to your Brother In Law, Hades, to watch him in the underworld. Your first week into camp half-blood, Chiron had announced that Capture the Flag will be the first game for the day, you were teamed up with the reds (Much to your disappointment) you were near the cabin fire when two boys from the blue team had cornered you (One of them was luke) you raised you hands to cover yourself but then, Two ivy vines sprouted out the soil and blocked them, horror washed over you when one of the vines that you 'accidentally' summoned strangled one of the boys, Luke was able to escape and still..Blue team one.

While they were celebrating, The red team started ranting angrily about how you made them lose, You sat in a corner, your head leaned against an oak tree as you sobbed, then, a bright greenish-yellow light appeared with gold sickle with a few sheaths of wheat above your head, No one was there, not until a group of campers saw you, they ran and moments later, almost dozens of campers were in front of you, including chiron.

"All Hail Y/n Y/L/N, Daughter of Demeter"

Bunch of flowers started sprouting near you, The forest and plants looked much more healthier in your eyes as every one knelt down, Including Luke, Who gave you a mischievous wink.

"....And this is the mess hall, You're always designated to sit with your cabin mates but that depends, most unclaimed kids just sit with their friends" You said, Glancing at Percy, The young boy just nodded shyly and coughed,trying to hide his blushing cheeks.

"Looks like someone has a crush on you" Luke appeared behind you with a grin, Percy's eyes immediately went wide, making you chuckle.

"Crushes don't hurt, it's admiration afterall" You whispered before giving percy a light kiss on his cheeks, leaving luke shocked.

One of you halfsiblings, Althea, called you over. Apparently, another one of your half sibling's EX boyfriend from the Dionysus cabin used a lard grapevine to ruin the bathroom door inside the cabin while you sibling is showering out of rage and jealousy.

Now, As head of your cabin, It's either you spent one whole hour being lectured by Mr. D out of his favoritism or...Plead with one of the Hephaestus kids to fix it for you.

What a day.

Giving Luke and Percy one last smile, You left.

__

"C'mon Felix! This is the only time that i've asked for a favour out of all the favours i've done for you, You'd do it for me" You pleaded as you followed him back and forth inside his cabin's workshop.

"Look, Y/n, I love you as my friend, but i can't do it, not right now"

"What if i give you a 25$ gift card from burger king and......" You scouried your pocket hoping to find something, Your eyes lit up as you felt a bill in your palms "50 dollars...and...." You then went to pat your bra and pulled out a coin. "A Peso"

You then placed it in his soily hands, Felix's face remained calm, he then took the money.

"It's warm..." He said kinda horrified...You pulled the peso out of your bra for the gods sake!

"Take it or leave it."

He then rolled his eyes and grabbed his toolbox.

"Lead the way"

You squealed and hugged him before pulling him to your cabin.

As you watched him repair the door in silence, Felix broke the silencce by purposely dropping a hammer to the ground, the loud clattering sound made you flinch a little, he smirked "Thinking about Luke?"

You snorted, as if tho you weren't actually thinking about him, "No, i'm thinking about Percy"

"The new kid who broke Clarisse's spear? he's badass"

"mhm, Son of Poseidon"

"Speaking of, How's Luke?"

There was a moment of silence before you replied.

"Fine"

"Just 'fine' ? No ungodly things happening?"

"No" You could've bursted out laughing.

"I don't believe you, C'mon tell me some elaborate details"

You raised your brow, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes.

"Actually, if you finished that, i'll tell you"

The Hephaestus boy huffed and went back to work

After an hour, Felix finished repairing the door and bid you a goodbye (Along with a side-eye)

__

It was now 11 pm, the Campfire sing-along ended almost an hour ago, and you were in your cabin, re-arranging your stuffed toys for the 5th time, (Making one plushie lay beside you will cause chaos among the plushies)

"Carrie..You go here and..Princess should be right....here, Done!"

All of your plushies were in order when you heard a knock from the window near your bunkbed. then, you saw luke, still in his usual camp shirt, unlike you who was in your rather inappropriate pajamas.

His eyes first landed on you, he then grinned before groaning and landing on your soft bunk bed.

"Hey ives-"

"Luke, what're you doing here?!" You hissed, afraid that your half siblings might caught you two.

"Can i not see you?"

"You can, but not at this time" You huffed, But he was still grinning before pulling a flower pot, with a rose.

"I grew this for you, Ives" He whispered, His eyes carefully scanning you expression before you chuckled.

"You know i can grow this in seconds?"

"Mhm, But still, I love you 'till the very last rose in this entire world wilt into ash"

A smile graced upon your lips before luke grabbed your cheeks and kissed you, the flowerpot fell into your bed, the soil staining your new bedsheet, You couldn't care less.

You deepened the kiss by pulling Luke by his neck, and a groan escaped his lips, his calloused hands then slowly went up your shorts making you moan a little, His hands became closer and closer and closer until-

"Luke?"

You two pulled away, Luke's hands were still in your inner thighs, he took a peak into your window and saw Percy, in his cute pajamas with messy blonde hair.

"Percy" Luke breathed.

"What's up?"

"The Apollo cabin seemed to be having a party, the noise is too loud and i can't sleep, i was wondering if you could go see it "

You then peaked into your window, your cheeks were pressed against luke's

"Y/n? Wait..what are you guys doing? and...why are you in her window?" Percy asked, his drowsiness seemed to have vanished.

Luke couldn't even answer percy himself, he started chuckling softly before burying his face into your neck and smothered it with kisses.

Percy then stood still before realizing, he cleared his throat, but before he could leave you called him.

"You know what? I think Luke could actually take a look at those Sun Brats" Luke immediately groaned and looked at you.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Go help the poor boy"

"Yes Ma'am"

He then got up and just as he was about to climb down your bunk bed you stopped him.

"Nah uh, You can leave where you entered"

The dark haired boy chuckled, and and started climbing down the window, before he could jump back to the ground you kissed him one last time, But this time, the kiss was much more passionate. You could've sworn percy made a gagging face before turning around.

"I love you Ives"

" 'Till the very last rose in this entire world wilt into ash" You said, Luke's eyes soften.

You watched as he and Percy went to the Apollo cabin to resolve the chaos.

The flower potted rose sat in your bed, You took it, and glanced at the beautiful red beauty, You sniffed the fragrance before placing it near your window as you felt Hypnos' warm palm caressing you to sleep.

__

The next day, The first thing you did was bang into Felix's cabin, Giving him every detail from last night as Luke, along with percy watched you from afar.

A/N:

Hey Guys! I've been gone for too long and i just watched the new PJO series and i have to be honest, I fell in love with Charlie as Luke so here's a little treat for you guys while i finish my other fics, i do hope you guys like it!

[angelpuns]

SO

I think I understand how it works?? maybe??

When Leo healed Mikey and warped himself back to being a toddler, when kid leo activated his ninpo due to the stress of everything happening.. I think, in the same manner as Teen Leo was reaching out to pull Mikey back together..

but instead was pulling himself back together, to perhaps avoid making the same mistakes??

i am SPITBALLING and i could be completely wrong but just looking at that one panel, and how it all started it just MAKES SENSE

Sort of!! Definitely right about how he accidentally became little in the first place and what he was trying to accomplish with Mikey.

I had to figure out if this was gonna be spoilers or not, so forgive the late ask, but here's a basic rundown of how Leo's ninpo works in this au ( and how he managed to turn back time for EVERYONE this time. Technically) since I don't think I ever fully 100% explained how he changed in the first place ( sorry its about to get WORDY)

So first and foremost, the way that Leo ( medium Leo, regular leo) PORTALS at all is basically just. This post ( I finally found it )

Except in this au, specifically, he's kinda taking himself apart and putting himself back together at the landing point ( which is kinda the same thing as the post says but not really. If that makes sense) which is important, because when he 'heals' Mikey at the beginning of the au, what he is ACTUALLY doing is taking both himself and Mikey apart ( as if he is going to portal) and instead of portaling, he's actually just. Time travelling. He unlocks the ability to move through both space AND time. He's taking pieces of himself and patching Mikey up p much, in the simplest terms. ( think of it like...the way Edward gets himself and Envy out of Gluttony's stomach in FMA Brotherhood. He transmutates himself OUT and this is similar to that as far as like. Mechanics)

But he basically puts himself together incorrectly because it's like. The first time he's doing anything with TIME and he's desperate. So he does it wrong. Forgets some of his pieces so to speak.

So that's how he became a kid.

However, his ninpo was unchanged by this process. Since it's like. Part of his soul and is basically his..essence ig, it stayed the same. That is some 16 year old ninpo in a 6 year olds body. Which is why Draxum is like 'this will literally kill him if we unlock it'.

( also here's a secret. His ninpo isn't locked in the same way it was before the shredder fight. Something is technically blocking it. After all. His ninpo is still the same as it was when he was a teenager, so he should by all means be able to use his powers ;) but something or someone is blocking him from accessing it. )

Anyway, seeing his brothers fighting for their lives triggered his ninpo ( not necessarily to unlock but for the block to...move, somewhat) and since he's literally 6 years old, he couldn't control it. What happens when you can't control a mystic time power in a tiny body? Its gotta go somewhere! So basically that energy went outward and pretty much looped NYC back to the beginning of the comic. Aka immediately post-invasion, which at this point in the comic is like. A month and a half ago maybe? Maybe two months at most.

jfc this is so long but I've been wanting to ramble about this for literally 2 years LMAO

Anyway tldr: somewhat correct, but there's also this whole other thing I got going on. Sorry this is so long, most of this stuff has been spoilers since I couldn't reveal the time loop until now!

[threepandas]

Bad End: Traps

"Darling~!" A rich voice greeted me, as I stepped through the final doors leading to an opulent office. "You're looking better! Are you finally adjusting to the anti-poisons? I know they made you feel quite sick."

THAT was an understatement. Try worst cramps and fever of my life, with a dose of puking for days. They put me on IVs. Buuuut? I wasn't gonna say THAT. Not a chance in hell. We, team Earth that is, were supposed to be here for DIPLOMACY. So? Fucking LIE~☆

Yep! "Bit" sick. Just a touch. Hardly noticed, really. Took a nap.

Veneni laughed, rising from the elegant sprawl she'd been resting on one of her "not called couches but totally are" things. To be honest, her voice reminds me of those old "radio stars" from the clips at the museums. All smooth yet husky, curling around you, like they're going to invite you somewhere dark to learn a naughty little secret if you're very VERY good.

Kind of voice you could listen too for HOURS, reading the most boring shit imaginable, and it be the best time you'd had in years.

I am... SO gay, for Veneni.

Like? You DO NOT UNDERSTAND. She SASHAYS. Not walks. Not strolls. Sashays! Like life is a catwalk and she is the alpha bitch here to show these other models how it's DONE. But also? Like she doesn't even NOTICE! It's just... effortless. How she moves. All delicate hand motions and rolling hips and curves.

That I Can Not Touch because she is SUUUUPER poisonous.

Which is? Frankly? Homophobic and a crime against me, specifically. Yeah, her whole species is like that. And it's why all of us are suffering through the Anti-poison adjusters. But STILL! I can't even "accidentally" brush her hand? No potential kissing of hot hot hot alien gf? Illegal. Blocked. Everyone here is a bastard and I want to complain.

.....not, mind you, that I have the metaphorical lady balls to actually CONFESS anything.

But you know... maybe.... maybe if I pine hard enough?

Good ol' stand awkwardly nearby and mentally project "NOTICE ME SEMPAI!" At her? I put on my nice outfit! Makes the girls look-! Wait, does her species even give a shit about boobs? FUCK. Okay, see this? THIS is why I was a flight assist. Just inventory and handing stuff to people who knew what they were doing.

MASTER of the fine arts of "I Can Understand The Instruction Manuel, In Case Of Emergency"!

Pretty good at coffee, too. Not to brag.

But, like? Jokes aside? Things had been... Bad.

Everything had gone to shit. Then somehow found a shovel in the manure pile and started digging. Started OUT okay! Really, it had! Travel was unexpectedly a bit rough. Some sort of space storm that went RIGHT over my head, but we dodged every major catastrophe. Got here in one piece.

There was a fancy meeting party. Whiiiich? In hindsight? Terrible idea. WAY too many people with hella poisonous skin, standing WAY too close. Only reason we didn't IMMEDIATELY lose the head diplomate? Was the regulation "new planet, unknown pathogens" full body biosuit. He? Got a HUG. Like... right out the ship.

Oof. That would have been IT, for him. Unfortunately, he didn't make it past that much longer. Someone's pet bit him. And? Yep. Completely fucking venomous. Lethally so. A tragedy, right? Outlier, surely?

Ha!

No. No this planet was trying to fucking kill us. It was a toxin coated hellpit and had so far? Murdered just over half the diplomatic crew. Those that were still alive? Over half of THEM were in emergency care. With just over a forth of the OTHER survivors being the only ones who could safely care for them.

Rest of us were either in isolation or sick as FUCK.

Isolation for those who needed to get rescued, because the Anti-poison adjusters would fucking kill them. Or sick as hell, for those few who remain that finally, FINALLY had found a way to Not DIE.

ALL WHILE PEACE TALKS WERE TRYING TO HAPPEN.

It was a shit show~☆

I? Went from basically a nobody? To "congrats! By merit of NOT being dead or dying, you're the head diplomat by proxy!" Which? Fucking WHAT? You could physically SEE the stress radiating off the poor guys back home, as they tried to speed run me through "how to not Accidentally A War 101".

I was pretty sure his cup, did in fact, NOT contain coffee. But I wasn't telling.

Instead, I got the honor of carrying the video call. Literally. Since our tech was incompatible. I got to carry the whole set up. Portable battery included. So the ACTUAL Really, Actually, Trained In Diplomacy, Diplomat could call in. And then I could look pretty and nod seriously at the appropriate times.

Mmmmhmmm. Yes. I agree. I both understand what is being said, AND support Earth's position on these matters! I have definitely studied the materials. Am supposed to be here. We have DEFINITELY suffered no catastrophic loses, pay no attention to the chaos behind the curtains! Diploooomacyyyyy....

God, she is pretty.

Watching her smile, her sensors gently shift around her like flowing water, the way her hand delicately gestured as she spoke? I... I wanted to build her, like, a cabin or something. Bring her breakfast in bed. Maybe adopt an alien dog together. And like? I don't even KNOW how to build shit. But, fuck it. I'd learn.

Cause I mean... you KNOW you got it bad, when you look at Toxic Super Hell the planet, look at pretty lady, look BACK at the planet that in no uncertain terms ACTIVELY thirsts for your blood... and go?

"So when do I move? Feeling REAL patriotic for my new home! Wooo, New Home!"

Yes I have a problem. Shut up, I'm aware.

A quite click signaled the end of their talks. Finally done for the day. I definitely, in now way shape or form, perk up like an excited puppy hearing the word "walkies". Because that? THAT would suggest I had WAY more dignity. I am a thirsty, thirsty bitch, okay? SO PRETTY. Nice laugh! Calls me Darling!! I have a LIST!!!

"Mmmm, what an unpleasant man that was. Did something happen to Mr. Ho?" She asked, stretching in the slow rolling way of hers. It looked boneless and decadent. REALLY distracting. "I hope nothing Serious~. We were nearly on the cusp of getting you home! I do hope he gets well soon. But, ah~, where ARE my manner today, Darling? You must be starving!"

Veneni sweeps forward to tuck my arm in hers, pulling me against her side. Even through my biosuit and her modest dress... I... I can FEEL her body heat. How soft and warm she feels pressed close against me. She smells tingly and spiced, kinda like citrus and mulled cider. NOT! That I'm smelling her! WHICH I'M NOT!! Because that would be so, SO creepy! It's just-!? You know-?! AaaaaaAAA???

She guides me to our little table. Probably set up for guests in general. But... you know... kinda like to THINK of it? As ours?

I REALLY need to stop while I am ahead. Good fucking gods. Ignore me.

Mmm, yes, distraction cake! Let's talk about THAT instead! Wonder what she-? I then choked on my drink. Because... because after bringing out the usual traditional deserts of she was teaching me about? And dishes I could try? Veneni... c.. casually as you please rests her chin, propped up on one hand, then reaches out with the other... to place it on my hand, which rests on the table between us.

Hear that? That's my soul screaming at a pitch only dolphins can make.

OH MY GOD.

I'd like to say? I don't immediately embarrass myself? But that's a lie. I make a wheeze reminiscent of something dying horribly. Against all odds. She is NOT immediately disgusted and done with me. Dear lord, my parents may actually have a chance at seeing me married! Holy FUCK.

Wait. No. Slow your roll.

SMILE first. We GOT this! Seduce her!

I open my mouth... and stupid fell out. FUCK.

"Calm yourself, Darling!" She laughs, the bemused fondness lighting up her face. "You hardly need to impress ME! Believe me. I knew you were mine the second I saw you. Nothing could possibly change that~"

Her cute fangs catch the light, deadly sharp. Her's is a predatory species. I wonder if they like social touch? Cause I REALLY want to cuddle. Hold hands. Touch. Ooooother stuff~ But! Mostly the Hold Cute Alien GF! Assuming that's where this is headed. Please GOD let that be where this is headed!

"I was thinking... and I don't want to be too forward, of course," oh god please do "and I hope I'm not interpreting things incorrectly!" You are not. Take me you magnificent, purple, high femme queen amongst the masses. "But... I would VERY much like to... get to know you, Darling. On a more... personal level...?"

I kept my lips pressed desperately together to keep from literally shouting the word "Yes" in her face. Be cool. BE COOL! We are both cool and Very Normal About This! Scream in incoherent joy later!

Y..Yeah! Sounds great!

This is the best day of my-!

An explosion shook the biodome. While the whole planet WAS toxic as fuck? There were levels to it's toxicity. Some places too much for even native life forms to handle. And, of course, no place that non-natives could safely survive. Thus the capital's biodome. Highly filtered air, earth, and resources. Built for diplomacy and several critical care hospitals.

Now under attack. Another bomb exploded. Cracks in the dome.

I could only stare in mute horror at the pillar of smoke. Because... Because that was the isolation area. Our evac's. Someone just blew up... Then my brain seemed to comeback online all at once, as adrenaline flooded my system. I looked between the still unpacked call system and Veneni.

A piece of tech or a high ranking, probably high interest target. My maybe hopefully girlfriend. Not really much of a choice.

Fucking LEAVE IT.

We had to go. I pulled Veneni up, told her as much. She looked so startled.

"Of... Of course, Darling. Yes. You're right. I AM probably a target, aren't I?" The thought didn't seem to have occurred to her. God, I felt like a monster having to bring such ugliness to her attention. Scaring her like this. But ignorance wouldn't keep either of us safe.

"I...I think there was a safe room?" She faltered, arms crossing almost artfully, looking so uncertain I couldn't help but want to comfort her. "But, Darling, I'll admit.. I'm.. I think I'm rather scared. Will you protect me? Stay with me? ...please?"

I couldn't help it. She looked so scared. So delicately small. I stepped forward, arms going around her. Pulling her close like I could shield her from the world. I wouldn't let anything happen to her. I promised myself. Felt her arms, a few of her sensors, desperately curl around me.

I didn't see the smile, pressed against my front. That quickly vanished as she pulled back. Nor did I notice the calm technician, hidden in the shadows of a side hall, who nodded at Veneni as I herded her to "safety". Would think nothing of how, tragically, my rooms were hit in the follow up blasts. How very lucky, that Veneni has rooms to spare. But oh~ she would not want to over step!

I don't notice a lot of things. But hey, things are great! I got a girlfriend! Or, as she likes to joke,

She Got Me.

[laterkatersays]

Ashley Johnson is ruining my life (but I still love her to the moon and back)

Sometimes it feels like being a callowmoore shipper this campaign has been an exercise in frustration.

Not only are we fighting against a dedicated section of people who never got over the shard incident and still believe Ashton hasn't apologised enough (four times in one conversation was not enough, apparently) or done enough to be forgiven (despite the work they put in to open up to the party, make commitments to be better and actually follow though).

Then there are those who vocally insist that callowmoore is being forced and that Fearne has better chemistry with Chetney or Imogen or Teven or Braius. I honestly don't care when someone ships Fearne and Ashton with other people (and while I am not, a lot of callowmoores are multishippers, or want Ashton and Fearne to be polyamorous). The only time I mind is when someone starts bad mouthing callowmoore because they weren't paying attention to the way they've been flirting with each other since episode 1 (then I care long enough to roll my eyes and find the block button).

But to get back to my thesis statement, despite the fact that I adore Ashley Johnson in a way that one can (entirely platonically) adore a stranger that you will never meet, she has consistently driven me up the wall this entire campaign with her insistence that she can't share what Fearne is thinking and feeling without exploring it at the table first.

Don't get me wrong, it's an approach I admire. I would not be capable of it in that situation. I would be much more of a Liam, admitting to having romantic feelings in a 4 Sided Dive a good while before it was revealed at the table. Even Taliesin is sharing Ashton's feelings about Fearne now, I suspect because some of those feelings are easier for Ashton (which I plan to explore in another post because fuck it, let's ramble on the internet while the world falls apart).

Everything we've ever gotten from Ashley has been eked out in miniscule portions. We had one initial (and, I suspect, accidental) confession during a 4SD that Fearne might have deeper feelings for someone (back in October 2023, a month before the shard incident). And then ever since we've been living off crumbs.

I suspect that Ashley even asked before the final 4SD that the rest of the cast not bring up Fearne and Ashton (which is why we had a whole conversation around Caleb's tower without actually addressing why the tower configuration specifically caused issues that episode, namely that Fearne and Ashton had trouble finding somewhere private to fuck) because Liam made that little joke, almost underneath the rest of the conversation, "Enough about your callowmoore," as if it was in reference to a prior discussion.

I've been shipping these characters for two and a half years (July 2022, episode 28, Fearne fell in the hole, Ashton tried to pickpocket her while helping her out again, and I suddenly realised pickpocketing was flirting for people who were bad at feelings), and don't get me wrong, while there were some hard times, the payoff of watching these two emotionally stunted people find their way to each other has been brilliant. There is a unique joy in picking a ship before anyone else is paying attention and then being right (and hopefully getting to see them have a somewhat happy ending if they don't all get murdered by Predathos/Ludinus/the Gods in the next episode).

So I'll wait for the resolution we get in game, when Ashley and Taliesin do their thing and work out how Ashton and Fearne fit together when the fate of the world isn't at stake. And I'm sure it will be brilliant, because those two have already captivated me with this small story, this bare beginning of a romance, told in fragments of moments, within the hundreds of hours of Campaign 3. I think about callowmoore every day, when I'm supposed to working, or cleaning my house, or sleeping. So much so that I've somehow written 14 callowmoore fanfics, and I'm currently working on 4 more (2 of which are 40k+ words each).

But fuck me, if they don't dive into it, really dive into it, in the campaign wrap up, if Ashley Johnson doesn't finally reveal Fearne's thoughts and feelings, and the changing pattern of them across their friendship turned romance, I am going to... Well probably be really fucking sad and then write a bunch more fanfic tbh.

[nerves-nebula]

Has the overall story of Loose Stitches changed significantly since you started drawing it?

BOY HAS IT. ITS LITERALLY CHANGING AS WE SPEAK. anyway this got long so. under da cut

so, like most stories, it's changed a lot since the beginning. i was technically drawing it years before i started on the comic you see before you nowwww HOWEVER i get what u mean so i wont post any old art of atchkie or anything to make a point

TO GET TO YOUR QUESTION: since i started drawing and posting it, things have changed SIGNIFICANTLYYYYY. for example, hanheppi culture (which wont be relevant for years) was basically nonexistent when i started. the only reason you guys know hanheppi people and loose stitches are related is because i literally didnt have a name picked out for the hanheppi, so i had to file them under "loose stitches related" thinking i probably wouldnt post much about them anyway. and ppl started noticing that because i got around to developing them ON THIS BLOG WHILE POSTING LOOSE STITCHES. lol

as for the characters, they've changed too in a lot of ways. dotty's whole deal was generally outline before but i filled it in over the last few years and now it's like. genuinely could be its own novel lol.

ATCHKIE'S personality has been kind of hard for me to get a handle on because they are a kind of person who i don't have much in common with. but i think i'm getting a better idea of them as time goes on.

Reg Willow and Eden are still being workshopped cuz they're gonna appear later on and i haven't written them very much, so they're actively changing as we speak.

and then of course the entirety of part 2 has undergone major changes and is still actively shifting in huge ways. i see part 1 as basically set up and foreshadowing and getting to know the MC's and part 3 (if it can be called that, im prolly gonna break up part 3 into different chunks tho) as the pay off/explanation portion.

but part 2 is kind of more like a road trip adventure that the characters take on the way to trying to find things out about themselves and their goals. they run into a bunch of weirdos and its basically just the part where i get to have a ton of weird shit happen and then they run away. half of it is not even plot relevant and i'm SO EXCITED FOR IT!!!

and because it's way more flexible and is basically just a "author gets a free for all to do whatever it wants" card, it changes rapidly and often. I've brought in characters from past stories to fill in spaces, and i've combined certain plot points and storybeats. i've cut shit i didn't think was fun and then added entire towns just for 1 scene i wanna do. so thats probably the part thats changing the most.

other minor things that have changed is the near spontaenous creation of characters like professor silk, leilah, and mia. what happened with them was that i had points in the script where characters would talk and then i realized that if they were gonna have all these interactions with characters, they should probably be reoccurring ones instead of a bunch of one offs. Now professor silk is a minor but recurring characters, and Leilah was upgraded to full on girlfriend almost on a whim. Mia was the most spontaneous one tho.

in the scene where Mia throws dotty off the balcony, that was SUPPOSED to be Leilah and just some random friend atchkie was hanging out with. but since Mia had appeared before i was like fuck it, why introduce a whole new friend when i can reuse what was a one off character? and then while blocking out the fight it was just easier for me to imagine someone accidentally throwing dotty via strings than Leilah pushing them off in the struggle like i'd planned.

i could keep going on with stuff like this but the tl;dr is: yeagh. shit is changing constantly and all the little changes end up with the finished product being vastly different from the start.

and thats why i love serialized stories. there's an inherent jank to it that i cant get enough of on both the process side and the reader side.

[kalianos]

It is a little past midnight. Have brainworms.

god I remember when windows 8 came out, immediately bought and installed it to troubleshoot Intuit Pro-Series. I was a chaotic force for good in some weird ways back then. Also Ironically working for Intuit was the first time I stopped hanging out in online spaces. ANYWAY!

Higher level techs were spreading the word that neither program would work on it. ProSeries and Lacerte (Corpo Tax Software) weren't built to handle Mobile Tablets. Day 1 of tax season that year and I had to walk a tax preparer installing pro-series on a windows tablet.

The Higher tech was confused as hell how I did it....apparently they couldn't understand how windows would just interpret the finger touch press as a mouse click. Now to right click, that was moon magic to me back then. Though I think they just wanted a mobile way to make tax sheets and input data then just slam it over to their desktop in the office/at home. You would be amazed how many people had this tax preparer software on their home computers. Hell I remember someone who had this expensive stuff and bought it every year just to do their own taxes and some of their friends.

Also obligatory, fuck Intuit. Never use Turbotax or H&R block to file what can be done for free. I gave away so much free stuff when I was in Turbotax even though I knew they were doing it on purpose to bait people to stay in their ecosystem before they "shut down" our ability to give out stuff for free. You can only word things in so many ways to avoid getting nabbed by the monitor police.

:V Call centers man, we had a department in one corner of this open office floor plan dedicated to monitoring us, recording our calls, and making notes on anything we did.

Randomly remembered this when someone was bringing up how Windows 11 wasn't the worst Windows OS and people were jumping on how Windows 8 was terrible and windows vista doesn't work on low powered systems. (Hey! Let's ship an OS that works best at minimum 2gb of ram! On systems that barely had 512mb! Because that was listed minimum spec. What Could Go Wrong?)

Double fun irony. That call center job was how I ended up making friends, learning more social skills, accidentally stealing someone else's girlfriend by being more outgoing and out there. Discovering the joy of dating someone who used to be a runway model and artist in new york who was more than a little obsessed with sucking dick. Older women man...definitely confirmed.

The downsides of having said person be your girlfriend when you are an immature little shit of a man and there was a good....seven year gap I think in our ages? Then again she was on Instagram constantly after me with a new guy on her shoulder every month after that...so minor gold star for being the longest relationship?

AAaaaaaaaaand figuring out the age old problem of "YOU SHOULD NEVER ROOM WITH SOMEONE YOU WERE FRIENDS WITH IN HIGH SCHOOL" due to the whole....situation that made my last year of freedom a descent into hell and depression that took almost a year and a half to escape. You know like, you friend is leaving the military...that he asked you to join up with him in....and you get dumped out leading to two year depression spiral where you took a call center job out of desperation to do SOMETHING with your life before you wasted away into a worthless pile of shit.

ONLY for him to show back up, joining the National Guard, and after apartment hunting for less than a week shooting down all your suggestions and saying we need to get this luxury 2 bedroom apartment that just opened up in this brand new apartment complex which..pricey, and doesn't include utilities. :D WHAT COULD GO WRONG!? Hey turns out....food costs money.

Walking in from work one day planning on changing to go out with friends to a bar only to walk into a big fat shirtless old guy sitting on your couch. Having to shoo said friends away from the door from the master bedroom. Only to find out hours later that it was your roomate/bestfriends dad who was now...crashing on your couch for a while?

Also not paying the bills. Getting a GI Bill to go to a mildly scammy tech school to learn HVAC and then...not...doing that....and basically flat out not getting a job. I can not stress how pissed off and stressed out I was for an entire year straight. My natural light brown/blonde streak in my hair got a few white hairs in it from that experience.

Though I am not going to lie it was a wonderful experience. KNOWING that yet again...as I was paying for half the rent, the electric, the internet, I THINK there was a gas bill as well? $100 easy a month on electric in 2012 was kinda hell for my area but oh well. KNOWING that he came to me saying he couldn't pay the water bill. So I needed to cover it. And me pulling a Luane from King of the Hill moment. I paid my fair share, I can live without water for a bit. (I was already having to drive to my parents house every week to do laundry sooooo....yeah we didn't have a washer and dryer for most of the year.)

THE HILARIOUS THRILL OF JOY I FELT WHEN I LEARNED ON MY DAY OFF AS MY ROOMMATE COMES IN HALF COVERED IN SOAP FROM HIS SHOWER TO TELL ME THE WATER WAS SHUT OFF! AHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Schadenfreude. Justified.

The amount of times I had to cover all the bills and the Rent...sometimes completely in a 12 month lease was hellish.

So hellish I somehow managed my money to not go into debt back then. Instead I almost to the Penny Zero'd out myself. Including renting the Uhaul to transport my stuff back into my parents house.

OH and him running to the office to grab the deposit money and just leaving with it to buy an engagement ring. That also sucked. Not like I didn't know where a lot of the money was dissapearing to. When you hear stories from friends about him going to a certain fake Australian restaurant and tipping the waitress personally over $100....in 2012. And constantly making us go back to that restaurant to specifically get her and tip her more money.

.....ah memories. Oh yeah and I got invited to a threesome around that time. Probably should have said yes since I knew them but oh well.

And to think I wondered when I was half my age if I would even survive up today. All the things I would have missed out on experiencing. Never was suicidal. Just genuine curiosity in some morbid fashion if I would someone how just be able to live as my crazy stunted self.

....We own a mower now. We have to fix a few more things on it and the tires definitely need to be replaced but it mows better. And now my girlfriend doesn't need to drive her parent's mower down the highway just so we can cut the lawn. It was worth it for piece of mind.

A handful of people I went to school with have apparently tried to reach out to me a few times. At least one of them died a month after doing so. Never opened that message to find out what they said and that was about a decade ago now. We didn't interact much but I am pretty sure he just thought I was annoying dumbass. Wonder if I should completely erase that.

Think I'll title this brainworms or something. I kinda just let my fingers typed whatever came to mind. This was fun.

:V May you not be bored to death if for some reason you read this. I should add a cut not to take up space. Yis yis.

[abbonation]

Lost Apprentice, Chapter II: Accidents Happen

Who's at fault if we both started it?

Explicit 18+ content ~2.4k words

A/N: Guys idk how the FUCK to write a plot. Shit's hard asf. Just like Mando's about to be HA! anyway. Let's see how long I can keep this going for, shall we?

CWs: accidental and purposeful voyeurism; male masturbation; female masturbation.

Chapter II: Accidents Happen

After your moment at the bathhouse, things were a little weird, a little off, but you were trying to keep it normal. You’d noticed Mando’s stare lingering on you out of your periphery as you pulled your tank top down over your chest band in the dressing room, you tried not to be excited at that fact.

You always made it a point to wave goodbye to whatever planet you were on when it was time to leave, and each time Mando laughed at you. “Goodbye, Eriadu. I will not be sad to never see you again.”

“Why don’t you go up and get us going and take a break from the helmet. I’ll stay right here, promise.” You hold your pinky up to Mando in offer.

“What’s that?” He points to your pinky stuck out in front of his face.

“It's a pinky promise! You’ve never heard of a pinky promise? Here, look-“ you grab his wrist uncurl his fist, and wrap your small pinky around his larger gloved one.

“Now it’s a pinky promise, I won’t come up and look at you, I’ll stay right here and read my books while you get us out of atmo.”

“..okay..” He shakes his head as he turns to go up the ladder, mumbling to himself. 

You shuck off your big ‘work boots’, as you liked to call them, and settle down on the floor with the book you’d brought to keep yourself busy, and a few short minutes later you’re off the ground, headed towards a hyperspace jump and one step closer to.. well that’s the tough part. One step closer to what? Mando had offered for you to stay with him. Travel with him, work for him? That was another thing, you didn’t have any savings- fuck who did? Not enough to live off of, anyway. 

Maybe you can just pretend like the whole conversation didn’t happen, and that you didn’t see his dripping wet skin or caress his chest while telling him you’d go with him while there was probably a glob of drool dripping out of your mouth. That’s a long shot. 

After about an hour of trying to find a comfortable way to lay on the cold metal floor and read, you hear footsteps above you from the cockpit, Mando descends to the hull, carrying two small ration packs and some wrapped up bread from the inn. 

“Can I join you?” He asks and sits down in front of you anyway, as you smile and nod to motion him down. 

“So,” he begins, handing you the opened and prepared meal and a piece of bread. You sit up and take it from him, wondering when the last time someone took the time to make sure you ate was, despite the fact that it was just a ration.

“Mando- listen, lemme just stop you right there. I didn’t mean to make you feel weird earlier, I’m sorry. The whole thing was weird, I think I was just off from being disconnected for so long and-“

“Stop.” He lays a hand on your forearm. “I’m sorry. I put you on the spot. But I did mean what I said, I’d like for you to become a more permanent part of my life. I don’t want what happened before to impede our friendship.” 

Before. The last time you were close with the Madalorian was a couple years prior to this current extravaganza, and about a full years’ cycle before you met the green baby. He had stopped to re-up on supplies, claiming that he just happened to be near your planet when he decided to stop. You knew he was lying, and this time you were going to make the move, but when you went to his door that night in the small motel in town, you heard a feminine voice from inside. The door cracked open after you had knocked softly, his figure blocked most of the room, but you looked past him to see a twi’lek woman sitting in the corner chair, only a bra covering her top half. 

You had nodded and stepped back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Turning to leave, when his hand grasped your bicep, wait, but it was too late. The jealousy you felt had confirmed you were already in too deep, so you tugged out of his reach and left. 

You had hidden in the bowels of the museum you worked at when he tried to find you the next day, although he surely could’ve and probably did locate you. Thankfully he got the message you didn’t want to be talk. As for the Twi, you thought she was an off-worlder as well, the connection they shared you wanted no part of. And that was that, until he had showed up with the child and put you back at square one.

You take a bite while you think. 

“I’d like that too, but I’m not moving in here ‘cause it’s pretty cramped, no offense.” You smirk up at him as you chew, trying to keep things light.

“No, not moving in. But your knowledge of historical sites has proved useful once, I don’t doubt I’ll need your help again on my journey to finding Grogu.”

“Grogu. That’s his name?”

“Yes, he told a friend through her mind when we first met.” 

Surprisingly your ear perks more at the reference of a ‘her’ than the telepathic communication. 

“Who? .. and how?” You add the last bit mostly to cover your tracks.

“Her name is Ahsoka Tano, another powerful Jedi.” He looks up at you and tilts his head.

“Jedi, I’ve heard that word before. They believe in the force, right?”

“Yes, I don’t know much about the whole thing, but either way they’re training him to use it, and I need him to know, well- that’s beside the point. I just need to see him, is all.” He switches his bread to the other hand. “And you, you might be able to help me with that.”

“I’d be glad to, Mando.” You feel a little guilt for finishing your meal before he’s even gotten to take a bite of his, “Want me to leave so you can eat?” 

“Uhm, no, I can just.. well you could turn around if you wanted.” 

You nod and grab your book and turn towards the wall, trying to busy yourself as you hear his helmet lift up from his chin. 

“How long until Navarro?” 

“Only a few more hours.” He says through a bite. 

—

The exchange with Greef Karga went as well as you thought it might. Slightly freighting people, made less so by the presence of Mando, and his few words made you have to be more talkative than usual to make up for his lack of social skills, which Greef seemed to enjoy. He asked your name, your planet, yada, yada, as the Mandalorian sat stoically across the curved booth from you, adding nothing.

The sun was setting as you boarded the Crest, lucky for your circadian rhythm. You watched as Mando calculated the coordinates for the hyperspace jump to your home planet system before heading down into the hull, where your pull out cot awaited you. 

—

Mando pushed the panel that turned off the lights in the hull, crawled into his small space and closed the door, so you assumed that meant goodnight. 

“Goodnight.” You whispered into the empty, quiet ship. Save for the lights of the random equipment on the walls, it was completely dark, the white noise of hyperspace flooding your ears. You turn towards the wall and hug your pillow, trying to fall asleep. Just one more night of this, you tell yourself, but it’s fucking hard to fall asleep in places that aren’t your own comfy bed, and you feel like there hasn’t been one descent nights sleep since nearly a month ago. Now that you’re so close to being home again all you can think about is your own bed, holo screen … a fucking toilet and real shower. 

You’re close to convincing your brain to fall asleep when you hear a tiny rhythmic squeaking. You slightly sit up and turn over, looking for the source in the dark. Maybe it’s just the ladder or something? You turn back over and try to get comfortable again. Your eyelids are just starting to get heavy.

Louder now.

It’s louder, and you’re definitely back to full consciousness. You sit all the way up and rub your eyes when you hear the quiet groan. Like a ton of bricks in your stomach, the realization of what you’re hearing hits you, and you can’t find the nerve to pretend you’re not. 

You focus in on the sound, turning your head towards Mando’s bunk, the squeaking sounds like his bed shifting, but there’s no way he has someone in there.

You silently put one hand down on the floor, then the other, pulling your legs behind you and crawl closer to the door, stopping each time the sounds pause, you’re about five feet away when you begin to pick up some words.

“Fuck, baby yes- fuck me.” Mando’s unfiltered voice penetrates your ears and you swallow, arousal sharp in the pit of your belly. “That’s right, little hole’s so tight for my cock.” He moans and you turn to sit, leaning on the outer wall of his bunk, ear turned towards the door. You imagine him laying on the small cot, sheets balled up underneath him while he fucks his blankets, and you nearly ruin it all by throwing your head back when your fingertips brush over your pubes. 

“Ohh, oh my god yes, fuck that thick ass.” 

Your mouth drops open and you swirl the head of your clit around, reaching your other hand down through the leg of your shorts to circle your entrance. 

He picks up the pace, heavy breathing now added to the crescendo of sound, and you start with two fingers, giving yourself something to clench on. 

“You like this little cunt being filled? Huh baby? You like using me?” You bite down on the collar of your tank to keep from making sound. Shamelessly fucking yourself and swirling your wet clit to the beat of his hips smacking against his bed.

“Yes, fuck I’m gonna– yes give it to me baby,” he groans deep, pushing harder than before, he’s close you can tell from the scraping of his bed against the wall. 

His voice alone gets you to the edge and you wish you were inside that little room with him, feeling him working so hard to please you for real. He sounds fucking desperate, you grind your pussy up into the flat of your palm, getting close to orgasm. 

“You gonna come for me sweetness? Gonna let me feel it? Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come baby, please come for me please-” and you do, squeaking out a tiny moan as you fall over the edge, convulsing around your fingers, and rubbing your clit until sound comes back into your ears and your eyes roll back our from inside your skull.

You realize all too slowly what just transpired, what you just did, and speed crawl back to your cot when you hear labored groaning from inside Mando’s bunk. Barely making it in time to cover yourself back up, you pretend to be asleep when his door slides up to open, and dim light floods the hull. You track his footsteps as best you can, hearing him walk over to the laundry bin, and back to his bed.

You lay there in silence, that “fuck, fuck, fuck“ swimming through your head. What now? Goddammit this is not good. It feels like hours pass as you lay there, willing yourself to fall asleep but only being able to replay the event.

—

The next morning it’s like it never happened. Except it fucking did. He might not know it, but it did, and now you’re sitting in the co-pilot's seat gnawing on a stale piece of bread and trying to determine just how loud that ‘tiny’ squeak was. You’re nearly doing fucking physics sitting there trying to rationalize what happened when the crest drops out of hyperspace, jolting you both sharply and making you drop your bread.

“Sorry,” you kneel down to crawl under the console to grab it, and when you turn around his pilot's chair is swiveled to face you. 

“You okay?” The vocoder seems colder this morning, somehow. Just a little bit less enticing.

“Yep, just uh, eager to be home I guess.” You sit up into a squat as you move to get back into the chair. 

“You sleep good last night?” There it is. A confirmation. You glance up at him, and back down at your sad excuse for a breakfast. 

“Sure did. I’m excited for my own bed though.” Play it cool. 

“I’m sorry the bed is so uncomfortable.” the ship is starting its landing protocol, and you’re almost to the finish line. 

You stand to make for the ladder where your bags are perched by the hatch.

“It’s not, Mando, it’s not- it’s perfectly. Uhm, it was perfectly fine… for my needs” You pretend to check over the place, making sure you have everything when you touch ground, his boots land on the metal floor of the ship and he turns. 

“Your needs?” When you turn around to face him, he’s crowding you up against the wall next to your things, you don’t want to push the control panel to open the latch preemptively so you scoot towards the crates beside you. Backed into a corner now.

He stands before you, and even in your fucking boots he’s bigger than you. He has one hand on each side of your head, and he bends the helmet down so that the chin is resting right beside your left ear. His dick is hard in his pants where it rubs against your belly, “What are your.. needs Sarad’ika?”

It’s like someone flips a switch in you and you swallow looking up into the hull, past his helmet, your hands grip at the fabric of your pants- palms sweating and hot. Heat rises up to your cheeks, all within an instant, you clear your throat to try and answer when an alarm starts to go off, piercing into the thick air around you both.

It sounds close, and it is, when Mando nearly jumps away from you, his hand flying down to his side pocket to grab the tracking fob, “Motherfucker- shit-” he turns and snatches his pulse rifle, and punches the control panel. Leaving you in the corner, feeling like a small stone statue next to your bags, mouth agape.

“We will finish this,” he sticks his pinky out at you and descends the ramp, running off into town.

[shsl-hubris-guy]

So little fun fact I play DnD, and have DM'd my campaign for over 2 years now. Like we started back in spring of 2022.

Tomorrow, I get to kill one of the PCs. And I'm beyond excited.

This player and I have been planning this death for almost 2 full years. As in, I decided in September of 2022 that this man was going to die. I already knew I had full consent from the player, of course, and he's been actively helping me set up this whole thing.

This particular character has had a pretty strong arc over the course of the campaign so far. It's very Wattpad, to be honest, but his whole thing was that he was too OP but had basically no control over his powers because of his lack of emotional control. His arc consisted of escaping the abusive system that wanted him to repress every part of himself, and not only to find people that cared about him as a person, but also to love and prioritize himself. It's been a really good story, and worked really well with the rest of the party's PCs with their respective planned character arcs. We've been slowly building him up to become this martyr figure, so that when he is killed, I get to have him haunt the narrative and further the arcs I have planned for the rest of the characters, particularly our paladin, who bonded with him more than anyone else. Honestly, it's fantastic.

We've also been building up his relationship with the player's new PC, a childhood friend who's mutually in love with him (yes, he will confess only as he's dying in his arms, because we are gay and evil) so we can push him into this Mega Depression. It'll serve as a really stark contrast to the OG PC, considered a failure where they came from but was actually one of the strongest, as the new PC was considered the star student but is basically incompetent outside of a classroom setting. Oh, and in universe, half the party finds him annoying for accidentally condescending to OG PC. So yippee guilty conscience arc!! (The player is fine with this, and actively wants them to hate him at first. I triple checked this just to be sure. DnD is meant to be fun.)

It's really bittersweet for us. This character has been with the group since the very beginning, and it's really hard to let go of that kind of connection with a character that's been with you for so long. The player in question used this character inadvertently as Gender Simulator 5000 to fully accept himself. This character has been one of the big movers and shakers of the campaign, and unwittingly became a staple in the group dynamic. No one except the player and myself know that he's going to die. They all know *someone* is going to die, but they don't know who, or when, to the point that one of them even approached me saying it was okay because they 'knew it'd be them eventually, they just want a heads up when it's close to time.'

I'm so pumped up for tomorrow. This campaign will never be the same after this, in the best and most tragic way possible.

Also hi if anyone ever wants to hear about my DnD campaign only one of my players follows me on here and I had her block my yapping tag so like if anyone wants to hear more about it I will yap forever and ever

[the-void-writes]

78

Ooh, this one made me really happy so thank you 💖💖💖 I think I accidentally changed the context of the song by making it platonic, but the vibes of it are huge inspo lol. Also I can’t remember if I’ve posted this part of the story before, but I rewrote it a bit so that should be fine.

Freaks of Preston - Lost On You

Bluebrook Memorial was a large plot of garden tucked away in the furthest corner of Preston, right where the town blended into the forest. Originally, the memorial was just a plain cemetery, sectioned in half to accommodate Humans and Freaks to “keep the dead from rising,” or whatever the ridiculous rumor was at the time. Of course, as Preston started burying more Freaks than Humans, it was impossible to keep the plots separate. Landscapers took the opportunity to brighten the whole place up with rose bushes and ponds, so visiting Humans didn’t have to think about sharing the park.

They weren’t so concerned about it, though, after a certain death in Preston…

Will followed the stone trail through a tunnel of willows. The flowers in his hand still felt wet from their time in the market, freshly misted by the clerks. Lydia strolled behind him, burying her nose into her jacket like a makeshift mask.

“I swear,” she said, “the smell gets stronger each time we come here.”

“Makes sense,” Will said. “If the flowers weren’t here, you’d be smelling something else.”

“Right, gross.” She shook her head. “Still, you’d think they’d choose something more pleasant.”

“I think you’re the only person I know who hates the smell of flowers.”

“I like real flowers, not whatever these things are. They’ve got chemicals and stuff.”

“Well, it can’t smell any worse than that raccoon Maddie brought home yesterday.”

“You thought that was a raccoon? With that skinny little tail? That was a possum.”

Will shook his head. “It’s not the same head shape.”

“What, you think Maddie took the time to shave a raccoon’s tail before taking it home?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Lydia sighed and ran a hand through her tangled orange hair. “I still say possum.”

“Suit yourself,” Will said with a shrug.

“Really, you’re just giving up?”

“I don’t feel like arguing with someone who thinks the sun is smaller than Earth.”

Lydia glared at him. “Hey, I was young. I understand now.”

Will couldn’t help but smile. “You do?”

“It’s just the distance that makes it small.” She posed triumphantly. “So technically, it’s the same size as the moon.”

He laughed and walked ahead of her. Lydia chased after him.

“Take their pictures, they’re the same size!”

The siblings took a turn past a cozy little garden of succulents. At the end of the path, under the overgrown moss of a giant tree, sat the grave they were looking for. The busy sounds of Preston were almost nonexistent in this corner of the park, blocked off by unruly clusters of ivy and thorns. It was a beautiful location, but Will always felt his chest tighten whenever he neared it, like he was caught in a vice.

In the last few years, he had visited the grave many times, a vast improvement from the whole days he spent when they first laid down the body six years ago. As a child, Will had even slept beside the grave, in the crook of the tree’s roots that surrounded him like large bird wings.

Will stopped, placed his flowers in the special vase, and read the stone marker.

Jason Theodore Rhodes

August 27 1974 - June 2 2007

Always and Forever

It was a nice headstone, all smooth and polished, though Will was still upset about the name. He and Henry had fought so hard to make it “Jason Prescott,” but the engravers insisted on using his legal name, regardless of the fact that he was disowned by his parents. For people who wanted nothing to do with him, they refused to let anyone else have the final say in his funeral arrangements. They wouldn’t even believe he was a godfather, at first, until Mary straightened them out. Their compromise was to let Will choose the epitaph, the one part that his parents didn’t care about. Always and forever… It seemed like a joke now, but he valued those words deeply.

Lydia patted the stone softly. “Hey, Jason. We miss you.”

Will took a deep breath. He had done this dozens of times, but that didn’t stop the tears that threatened to run down his face. Lydia smiled at him.

“I’ll be over there,” she said. “Take your time.”

“Thank you.”

She walked back down the path, leaving Will with the headstone of his dearest friend. The clouds felt dark over his head as he stood over the spot. Gloomy weather, Jason would have called it, the perfect time to be sad. Even the birds were in mourning around him. Their chirps were akin to someone in hysterics— laughter turning into sobs, back and forth until they finally fell silent.

Will let himself speak, his voice unable to move past a whisper.

“We’ve started choosing our classes for next year. One of our science teachers is offering astronomy. You’d be so jealous.”

He chuckled to himself, already blinking back tears.

“Henry and I found a recipe for mint chocolate cake. I still don’t know if it’s the icing or the cake that’s mint.” He shrugged. “Thought it would be nice for your birthday.”

Will reached out and brushed some dirt off of the headstone. His hand lingered against it, as though it would disappear the minute he moved away.

“You were the best father in the whole world, Jace. I just wish we had more time… I’m so sorry.”

He could see Jason in his mind, smiling softly, telling him to cheer up. Not in the condescending way that most adults said it, but in the kind and sincere way that only he seemed capable of. Will let his hand fall to his side, and he walked back over to Lydia, who was eagerly watching a ladybug.

“All good?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

She stood up and swung her arm around his shoulder. “You’re doing better, you know. We’re all proud of you… and he would be, too.”

“Thanks, Lyds.”

“Come on, let’s go grab Maddie and head home. She’ll prove that I’m right about the sun.”

Will smiled weakly. “Whatever you say.”

He let her drag him back down the path into town, listening patiently as she continued to explain how she was right. She was as goofy as she had been all those years ago, but Will was just happy to still have her in his life. He prayed that he wouldn’t lose her— or the rest of their family— the same way he lost Jason.

[toastyliltoasts]

Accompanied (Blaza x Reader)

Today wasnt the worst day , per se , but it wasnt the best either .. You woke up 20 minutes late , So you skipped breakfast .. You got ready for work while shoving a peice of toast into your mouth , munching also being a quite difficult task when you're trying to change into casual work clothing ..

You raced down the stairs of your apartment building when you bump into someone .. Well , You didnt have time to pick up all your stuff let alone take a proper look at the figure .. You scrambled to pick up your , scattered , stuff from the ground , The stranger helped you with steady motions .. "Thank you so much .. Im really sorry by the way" You said  with a smile as you finally looked at the person .. You didnt notice much as he wore a weirdly cute face mask that covered half his face .. "Its fine honestly" He said as he smiled (Which is obviously covered by the mask) .. You awkwardly let out a bye and ran off ..

You almost miss your bus as you manage to make it without a second to spare .. You sat down on a window seat as you watched the raindrops race , quite childishly might I add .. Your peripheral vision caught people moving around and some even sitting next to you .. But you didnt even think to pay them attention for some reason .. You gaze outside the window , the same sceneries you've seen for the past few years or so .. So undoubtedly , The boring view- well, bored you as your eyes start feeling droopy ..

So that led to you missing your stop and getting off the bus , muttering a small 'thank you' to the driver , at a couple stops ahead from your original stop .. You tried to hail a cab and drove all the way there , completely anxious ..

You reached work 35 minutes late .. But to your absolute luck , You boss was also late and you got off scot-free .. Well , You still had to do the work that you delayed by 35 minutes so not exactly scott free .. So you made a mental note to never fall asleep on the bus ever again .. It might've even scarred you for life ..

You reach home absolutely wasted and dropped on your couch like some heavy , lifeless limbs .. You re-adjust yourself to find a better , comfortable way to sit but that's next to impossible due to the stuffiness of your couch .. You debate if whether or not you should go to your spot *A/N : You crackheads , Get. Your. Head. Out. De. Gutter lmao* ..

Aah , Your favorite spot .. Living in an incredibly small apartment apparently has it own perks .. The rooftop of the apartment building was something you accidentally stumbled upon all those years ago .. It had a spectacular view of the whole city especially  at night with the artificial lights providing a calm aesthetic .. It was also isolated , Making it the perfect place for some time alone when having a bad day .. For example ; Today ..

You decide to just wing it and open your balcony door which leads to the spiraling staircase *A/N : Just imagine the stairs from Spider Man lol* .. You climb it like muscle memory .. To be honest *A/N : Pun absolutely intended* , It might as well be since moving into a new place is-  difficult to say the least .. So to say that you spend a lot of time there would be an understatement ..

You absent-mindedly reach the highest floor as you step on the cement block placed to provide some stability without difficulty .. You walk over to the edge of the building which was surrounded by waist-high walls ..

You gape as you see a figure sitting at your normal spot .. You didnt want to sound selfish because the building wasn't and wont ever be yours, but you cant help but feel a bit of anger with confusion because well , You've certainly been there more than them .. Because-

The person turns towards you , Obviously alerted by your footsteps and startled .. You see a strangely familiar guy with fluffy , dirty blonde hair and piercing eyes .. You swear you've seen him before .. You think back to last week to possibly remember if you've seen him before but you come up empty handed ..

"Uh hi" A deep voice drags you out of your thoughts as you look at him sending you a nervous smile .. Then it hits you like a train that he was the person you met earlier today at  the stairs .. "You're not here to mug me or possibly kill me are you ?" He jokes as you laugh/giggle/(whatever youre comfortable with cuz u rock <3) .. "Nah im not intrested in that" You say playing along while still having a huge smile on your face .. "Im broke as hell so you probab- OH have I taken your spot ? Im so sorry if I have" He says , already getting up , as sudden realisation hit him .. "Its fine honestly" You say mirroring his words he said prior to you .. He grins .. "Im Blaza" He introduces himself as he sheepishly rubs the nape of his neck .. "(Y/N)" You reply , smiling yourself .. "You can stay here if you want" You assure him ..

"Ill take you up on that offer"

°•°•°•°•°•°

You two sit down on the edge of the building , parallel to the streets and the other side of the building .. You talk for hours about , everything to be honest .. You learn that he's new to the neighborhood so you do the honor of filling him on what information you need to have about living here .. He seems grateful as you two talk like old friends who havent seen eachother in a long time .. You flail your arms around when explaining some things and use other  dramatic gestures to back up your point .. He finds you amusing and you , vice versa .. After the talk dies down , You start to gaze at the stars and try to make shapes out of certain constellations .. And emphasis on 'try' ..

"That looks like an among us character" "Ha ha very funny .. Its 2023 , Get some new jokes" "Oh cmonnn .. You have to admit it was funny" "Do I look impressed to you ? You can do bette- OoOO That ones a monkey" "It kinda does look like one , doesnt it ?" "That ones a crown .. You see that ?"

As it hit almost midnight you two exchange numbers while your heart pounded .. Get your crap together .. You're barely friends .. And you two bid eachother goodbye as you heart flutters ..

°•°•°•°•°•°

Hehehehheheh ..

Wattpad literally deleted my draft mid-writing so I wrote this AGAIN .. See my dedication folks ?

[jompsjnngurdsn]

This one's just kind of a personal note for me, just because my upcoming half-cross-country move and having toddler-caretaker-brain is going to otherwise completely erase this time.

I checked out some graphic novels for research for my graphic novel! The following books were read:

How Could You?

Assorted Entanglements

Onion Skin

Thirsty Mermaids

Restart After Growing Hungry

Blacksad

Blacksad: A Silent Hell

The theme for all of these is "Queer Slice-of-Life,"* which is a pretty good indication of where my project is headed. Mostly it was about trying to re-familiarize myself with how graphic novels are paced. Like, how do you get from scene to scene in that format? It's not something that I've thought of before, because my work has all been in webcomics. Those are a complete work with a punch at the end. And books have chapters. I've never done a graphic novel before, so I want to make sure I get the little things right. Pacing is important.

Anyway, my thoughts on each of those books, shuffled so as not to be a jerk and call out the ones I didn't like:

Really cute stuff. I accidentally grabbed a middle chapter of a story, but it didn't suffer for it. Very sitcom, in a good way. A little bit of drama, but didn't go overboard. Would read more.

This one had a good premise, but didn't have a story as interesting as its structure was trying to make it seem. It felt like something I wrote (derogatory). Not to say my work is bad, I just saw a lot of my bad habits in this one.

Very medium, leaning toward a positive-medium. But very instructive. This one was a former webcomic, and hoo boy could you tell. Scenes got really repetitive by the end. But the characters were pretty endearing, even if they did the "now watch the younger sibling go through the same plot but with only slight variation" thing.

Admittedly, didn't finish this one. It felt like I was either reading a fanfic with the serial numbers filed off, or someone just...really likes Steven Universe and doesn't think that you need any other character archetypes, both visually and personality-wise. Watching the characters face problems and then luck into solutions over and over does not make for an engaging story. Of the two books I read with the "short-haired, worldly black girl roommate who exists solely to feed wisdom to the protagonists" character, this one was the most prop-like. Sometimes I feel like queer stories written by folks who aren't black try to be inclusive and respectful so hard that they do an Accidental Magical Negro.

Ever read a book and, at the end, be like "Wait, that's the protagonist?" Not, like, a twist, but, just...the last couple of pages are all "This character's journey is truly what This was All About." And I'm like...fuckin'...was it? Good visual storytelling. Good color. Very "my 20's," which, who a nearly forty-year-old Dad, is the reading equivalent of having to empty a tupperware full of spoiled leftovers. I'm familiar with the content, but have no desire to get any of it on my hands.

Good research. Now I can return them and treat the little one to a library trip, which they will love. They will play with block, they will play with Plastic Bread. I will have to pick out the books, because they will be Buck Wild for Bread, as is the way of this age.

*And Blacksad, which is not queer but is absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful. Look it up if you feel your jaw has become too high. Because it will be dropped. You'll pay for the whole set, but you'll only need the edge, etc.

[jodilinbio]

2017

January 2017

Jan 1 Mary dumped me after informing me that someone informed her that I was supposedly talking about her unfairly in my blog. By this time I wasn't surprised, but it still angered me that I was used for so many years just to be dumped in the end.

Jan 20 For $175 our hot water tank is fixed. The thermocouple went out and the Sears guy replaced it.

Jan 26 Won an issue of a rat magazine based in Canada on Facebook.

February 2017

Feb 1 Had a case of food poisoning and puked for the first time in nearly 20 years.

Feb 17 Really like a website I found that generates random names for story characters.

My story Locked-In is done at just under 18,000 words!

March 2017

Mar 17 Hoping to adapt to sleeping to Sense's sound machine, though I may have to use the louder one when sleeping during the daytime.

Mar 31 Slept with Pink Noise an Amazon Prime relaxation track I set to repeat. Hoping all I'll need for sleep is Alexa. Trying to do more on fewer devices.

April 2017

Apr 2 Rosemarie's Revenge is my CampNaNoWriMo project, but I'm also working on Kinky Kathleen and Someone Else's Lady.

May 2017

May 17 In just a little over two months, I have finished The People Project where I give a brief blurb on everyone I can remember knowing/meeting.

May 25 Starting Clonidine soon for help with ADD/sleep and yes, anxiety too, should it rear its ugly head once again.

Jun 3 Definitely done with the Clonidine. It knocked me out but caused me to sleep shitty as hell. No more meds other than the two I take!

Jun 20 TSH is 16. Ugh! That’s due to the skips but it was necessary to curb my anxiety.

Jun 21 I don't know if I'm looking at a whole new problem or not, but both my red and white blood cell counts are high. Seeing the doctor later.

Jun 29 Still struggling with hot flashes and other symptoms of menopause. Took my first dose of Amberen. So far so good, though it might have made me drowsy.

July 2017

Jul 11 Maliheh's email account was hacked by someone pushing weight loss products. Surprised she still has me in her contacts after all this time.

Jul 16 Love that I found a way to block a few people that have blocked me on Facebook! Now if they ever unblock me they still won't see my account.

Jul 18 Met Mary who lives in the back corner of the circle. She stopped to ask me what was going on with all the street digging. Joy said they're in the final phase of redoing their irrigation system after four years and it's going to go on another week and a half.

Jul 20 Sent a message to Scot B on Facebook.

August 2017

Aug 1 Scot blocked me. Why, I do not know.

Aug 3 Discovered Grammarly! It may not be perfect but I love watching my stories and journals get more and more correct as I go through them.

September 2017

Sep 7 TSH is 15! This proves that perimenopause really is the root cause of my anxiety, even though the medication can still fuel it.

Sep 20 Getting a mouthguard and two partial crowns for $600 total. Was great seeing the dental team despite the costs, especially Kathleen.

October 2017

Oct 17 Accidentally pulled a crown out while flossing. Took the dentist just 5 minutes to re-crown me.

Oct 19 TSH is 6.75!

Oct 27 My very first "real" journal entry is 30 years old today!

November 2017

Nov 3 Reconnected with Kim but not Aly. Having fun catching up via DM on Twitter.

Nov 17 Making one last-ditch effort to try to combat the problem with traffic waking me up with a $25 pillow sound machine. Fingers crossed!

Nov 19 Getting new windows for the bedroom as I've had it with this shit. Ruining my peace is one thing, stealing my sleep is another.

Nov 27 Stepping into Psycho is now finished with just under 24K words!

December 2017

Dec 2 So SO fucking pissed and so fucking tired of dealing with the same old health issues year after year. My white blood cell count is slightly elevated, my cholesterol is bad, and my TSH jumped from 6 to 11. WTF? How???

Dec 4 Back from my PCP appt. She wants me to see a hematologist. :(

Aly made my day by tweeting me a birthday wish, though not directly. While I found it a bit odd that she didn’t tweet directly to me, I really appreciate the birthday wish!

Dec 8 Thrilled to hear from Aly!

So glad I never met with Marie in 2010 as I've come to realize just how fucked-up she is. She didn't do anything to me but I had an interesting chat with her ex. I'll always care about her but she is really screwed up probably beyond help.

[pjisskullourful]

mommy domme victoria but as a vampire too picking out reader from crowd and having her sexy ways in the hotel after the show if that makes sense?

it does make sense& it hugely appeals to me-- to the point where i've been working on my phone fixated on this idea & i have about 1k written

i think im gonna make use of a vamp mechanic i've not used in other fics& that would be the power of mesmerising& the ability to influence thoughts

its gonna be called moonlight magic, after the ashnikko song cos goddamm i love that song

if you wanna see what depraved shit i've written so far, keep reading. unproofread. yall are gettin it rawr

its set in england so dont get after me for spelling mummy this way

××× — ×××

You had been to a lot of concerts before (you had stopped being able to easily keep count a couple of years ago), but you had never been this level of entranced by a performer. You were utterly fascinated, unable to take your eyes off of Victoria De Angelis for more than a second. She was the whole show to you and you studied her every motion.

You had attended a Måneskin concert before and you couldn't remember being this level of obsessed with just the bassist. The videos on your phone from that night had tried to capture all four musicians at once. It had also captured the few rows of people standing between you and the stage.

But tonight you were at the front of the crowd, which had been exhilarating even before the band had taken to the stage. You and your best friend, Nadia, were thrilled that your early arrival had secured you this spot. There was absolutely no one blocking your view as you stood at the barricade, on the left of the stage's front.

Everyone had been screaming when the house lights dimmed and the background music was shut off. But your cheering had gotten even louder when Victoria had come into view, wearing her guitar as she strode to the front of the stage, directly in front of you. You were enamoured by the way her hair flowed and you immediately loved the look of her studded mini-skirt.

You had made a (kind of explicit) sign, specifically for her and you had lifted it above your head straight away. LET ME CALL YOU MUMMY.

Beforehand, you hadn't known if she would understand the intent, or even see the sign. It had been made with a rush of adrenaline, half-joking around with Nadia and seeing how sexual you were willing to get.

You saw Victoria's eyes land on it, and the smile already on her face had gotten bigger. Her eyes had moved down and you thought you saw her wink at you. Your arms had felt numb as you lowered the poster, instantly finding reasons to disbelieve what you had seen from the bass player.

You had taken your eyes off of her during the first song, when someone wearing a lanyard had approached from the other side of the barricade. They stood directly in front of you, making eye contact. It might have been easy to fear that you were going to get a stern talking-to after accidentally doing something troublesome.

“Do you wanna be on stage?” They asked.

You had seen the videos online, you knew exactly what this meant, nodding your head as vigorously as possible. “Fuck yeah!”

“Yes!” Nadia had joined in, extending her arm for one of the wristbands that the staff member was holding.

They had wrapped the paper accessories around your wrist and hers. Over the song they had given the two of you instructions of where to go and when.

Once they were gone, Nadia had grabbed you, screaming her excitement. This was a rare opportunity given to only about twenty fans per show, it was almost like winning the lottery.

You hadn't been able to think of anything to say back, because your eyes had gotten stuck on Victoria again. You hung on her every confident step and marvelled at the precision of her fingers.

You had never seen somebody so sexy in real life before. Seeing her beauty so many times on a screen, it was easy to assume there was some production magic involved - filters, blurring makeup, flattering lighting and angles, truly the best money could buy.

But as you stared up at her, trying to memorise all of these incredible details, you had seen that she was actually just that gorgeous. There wasn't a single feature that could turn you off. You dedicated more than a respectful amount of seconds looking at the little black love hearts that were pasted to each of her exposed breasts, covering the nipples.

As she had looked in your general direction (was it just wishful thinking that she was looking at you?) recklessly filthy images filled your head. You hardly knew where they had come from, but you were inundated to the point where you could hardly concentrate on anything else. You couldn't help yourself, you were suddenly ravenous for all of it.

You wondered how it would feel to have her lips all over your neck. You had pictured scissoring, desperately rubbing your cunt on hers. You hadn't done that with someone in such a long time, but it was often on your mind, the delights from previous experiences lingering in the deepest part of you. You had imagined how she might look riding your face, rocking her body with more intensity that she showed on stage. Images of worshipping her breasts couldn't be ignored and you had noticed that you felt damp in your panties.

You didn't think you had ever been driven so wild just by looking at someone before. Your libido was out of control. It was like the seduction was already happening, independent of words or touches.

When it was finally time to join the performers on stage, you dropped your sign. You didn't feel brave enough to hold it up to her directly, you didn't know how she would react and that intimidated the Hell out of you. The group of fans began to rush the stage and you followed Nadia up the small staircase.

[vxiphoid]

PIXELATED ZEN

❨ summary ❩ genshin › genshin men playing minecraft with you ((ft. alhaitham, itto, cyno, diluc, kazuha, kaeya, heizou, & xiao))

tags ✧ modern au, drabble, fluff, chaotic energy, not proofread, cursing, ooc(?), established relationship, gn!reader, kaeya sets a forest on fire, alhaitham does not appreciate bees, mentions of pixelated deaths

amanuensis’ message ⊹ IM NOT TRYING TO KILL MY OTHER FANDOMS I SWEAR… im gonna back up from twst for a bit (im literally posting scarabia soon.) you can clearly tell who my favorites are… this unlocked a whole different part of my brain holy shit im deceased

⌜200+ e/chara ⌟

♫ blossom - t. shan

genshin masterlist

ALHAITHAM

╰┈➤ tbh he thinks minecraft is stupid, i mean, why not read a book instead of burning the images of pixels into your eye sockets😒 yeah, he’d just rather books. its a game about blocks, what could possibly be so interesting? he will admit the music is… nice. its nostalgic even though he’s never heard the track before. his favorite animals are the axolotl idk they’re his little pookies. its their little stick arms, they look so silly… as soon as haitham found out that you could color things its over, he make some sweet things like putting a sign on top of your shared house with both initials with colored dye. he’s so happy, just not very vocal about it, but he has the smallest of smiles. he definitely has headphones with the crochet sprout on it omg😭 alhaitham does not like bees whatsoever, they stung him for trying to get food. he just wanted honey :[

“look, the dog’s collar is blue. and the sign’s letters are green and then if you add a glow squid’s ink, it lights up.”

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ARATAKI ITTO

╰┈➤ he has waited YEARS for someone to play minecraft with him omfg. certified snack hoarder for times like these. you both literally hit each other to show love, you’ve accidentally killed him once bc he didn’t tell you that he had like half a heart… itto likes the water, hates the guardians because who do you think you are attacking him out of nowhere??? gets one shotted by the elder guardian while trying to fight it with a stick and then blames it on magma blocks pulling him down. GAMING WITH HIM IS NEVER CALM GODS💀 you cannot lay on him or anything bc as soon as those cave sounds or disc 13 start playing, he’s already done sprung out of his seat. his screams are actually really funny though, you got him a cat from how much he’s been assaulted by creepers. when you introduced him to shaders, he was so in awe. “babe i have a shadow!” type of excitement JAKEJEJDMnda.

“the cat’s name is sir arataki the third, you are now my loyal guard cat. who’s an adorable little guy?”

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CYNO

╰┈➤ look at this nerd (affectionate), ofc he plays cubecraft. loved it so much that when he didn’t have the actual game, he would play the really bad knockoffs💀 plays on console so you can sit between his legs, lean back, and game with him. cyno hate the split screen because he always gets confused on what side he’s on so he lets you use his switch, that way you’re both still comfortable. he’s more of an explorer if you do get mod packs for him, likes the horror ones the most. there’s nothing like hitting the enemy or shit talking the thing that could potentially one shot you with your s/o‼️ yall crouch a lot, its like a little dance. he really likes the disc “far” it itches his brain in the right way. definitely downloads the little raccoon mobs but then regrets it because he gives up all his berries to them, look at their little begging arms, literally how can you say no to that?? AND THEY WASH THE BERRIES. you both fall asleep to the ambience and to each others breathing all cuddled up ‘n warm. cyno absentmindedly sings the music while chopping wood or mining that shit has you SLUMPED. he kisses your head when you fall asleep, smiling like a silly goober.

“do-do-do-do do-do-do-do do, neow neow neow nneow neeeowwww… huh? oh, i’m almost done then we can go to bed, yeah? i’ll charge the switch too, don’t worry. just rest.”

(he’s singing that one part in danny lmfao)

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DILUC

╰┈➤ diluc does not understand the concept of minecraft but its okay, he’s just happy to be here. he also doesn’t call it minecraft but “cave game”, the original name, he did his research though it is rare that he actually calls it minecraft. found out that you could breed animals and accidentally made a pack of wolves. diluc is really good with redstone its actually insane😭 he’s the type to protect you the whole time while you’re getting flowers for the house, boyfriend bodyguard. diluc doesn’t play much because of his job but when he does, he’s prepared to sit for hours and spend time with you :(. these are the times where he’s most affectionate, randomly kissing your cheek, getting water for the both of you before you play, etc. luc loves the mod pack “industrial”, he can build machines, how neat is that??? also it has way more OMFP with the added features it has yk? he likes the trains :D

“is the water running…? the water’s running, they have moving windmills!”

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KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

╰┈➤ kazuha has the most expensive equipment yet doesn’t use this shit half of the time unless he’s streaming with heizou??? like im talking msi infinite rs pc, multiple monitors, a graphic drawing tablet, headphones with immaculate sound quality AND!!! the ear cups have fucking cyberpunk 3d wing guards on them. but anyways, minecraft, yes, he plays. in fact, kaedehara has about 10 beaten hardcore worlds every time a new update comes out, he must beat the game again. he rarely plays minecraft without his shaders so when you want to play the original og minecraft, he doesn’t mind, he actually enjoys the nostalgia. so much so the music is actually his background music when he’s just lazing around. words cannot express how much he dislikes (hates) wardens omg. he’ll protect you from them but if there were diamonds behind a warden, ig he’s going somewhere else😭 kazuha gives you random shit, weather that be something really sweet or questionable…

“love, do you want my rotten flesh? here<3 oh! and, i also got you some steak, you’re low on hearts…”

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KAEYA

╰┈➤ he’s heard of it, watched people play, just never played it. but when he does… he’s a menace. kaeya got his hands on flint and steel and set an entire jungle on fire… but he can be sweet sometimes! you’re the one protecting his ass while he walks around at night UNARMED to gather blue flowers for you. like you’re cute, but take a shield or something😭 he’s jumped off of a tall building before and landed on half a heart for a stack of bread you didn’t want. he’s rather oblivious to the mobs around him, he once thought shulkers were friends because they were just “silly little guys in little boxes” yk until they almost killed him. you bought him his own skin and introduced him to parrots and now its his favorite animal, he looks like a pirate!!! kaeya is chaotically sweet.

“yes, you almost died protecting me but how could you resist my everlasting love plus pixelated blue flowers?”

(has a cat unironically named ice spice LMFAO)

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SHIKANOIN HEIZOU

╰┈➤ your boyfriend is good at literally anything else BUT minecraft. its the way this game constantly has it out for him too like what did bro do??🙁 heizou stream’s with kazuha every now and again and on those, he still doesn’t know what to do… he’d rather play on the servers, bedwars in particular. extremely good at bw, you’d rather NOT be his enemy😭😭 wins almost every single game even when he carries, rank 98 in the server. yet when it comes to a casual server between you and him, the chats are filled with his deaths and his hashtagged rages💀 heizou despises silverfish which is also why he hates going into strongholds, they could get stomped on for all he cares! >:( he has texture packs with really beautiful skies and then a picnic mod so he can stargaze with you and eats minecraft cake :(<3

“oh. babe, green is heading for our bed, no pressure or anything. i loovveee youuu😚”

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XIAO

╰┈➤ xiao has the MOST downloaded mod packs, shaders, and worlds. not very expensive mod packs most of the time but when they are, they’re always good. spends his time fighting off mobs at night, #1 totem holder. he even has his own custom skin!!! he’s kinda been waiting for you to ask so when you do play mc together, you already have your own room, but when you voluntarily move your bed into his room to sleep… he melts. xiao loves cuddling while the two of you play, he’d rather your arms around him than the other way around, feels more intimate. you have matching hoodies for occasions like this. he has the dragon mod pack and has his own golden and orange dragon named ‘li’. he doesn’t talk while gaming, curses silently when he gets hit, but other than that doesn’t talk. if you want to talk, he’ll listen, he likes hearing about your day :].

“no, keep talking. i’m listening. see, li’s listening too.”