#if anyone knows how to put images side by side on desktop now is a great time to tell me

[emrysthirteen]

ive seen many complaints about the way the new Tumblr mobile update has handled pictures. but i have only seen a couple people talking about how deeply inaccessible it is. and i want to go through it.

first I'll explain the changes for anyone who is new or who uses desktop because I'm fairly certain it's different there.

before when you were scrolling on your feed and you tapped on a picture to view it, if there was a margin around the picture it was black. if you double tapped the picture, it would zoom in. you could do this twice and the third time would return it to normal zoom. if you scrolled up or down, it would close the image and put you where you were on your feed before opening the image. if you scrolled to the sides, it would scroll through any other images that were on the same post.

now when you open the image, the margins are filled with a zoomed, cropped, and blurred section of the image. when you double tap, it likes and zooming is difficult. when you swipe up, it gives you a different post, generated by an algorithm to be similar. if you scroll to the side, it brings you to the posters blog. both of the swipe functions also do this when you are zoomed in as well.

i can only speak to my own accessability needs, but there are several and i know i can't be alone in any of them. for context the relevant things are that i have low vision which requires high contrast and photosensitive migraines which require low brightness. as you can imagine, this is a very specific balance of things that is easily made difficult.

firstly, the background of the image. i used to open the image specifically because of the background. increasing the contrast around the edge of the image and removing irrelevant details made it significantly easier to see. there were frequently posts that i straight up couldn't see properly until i opened them. with the new background feature, images that i have opened are impossible to see clearly. i can barely tell where the actual image is and where the background is. i functionally understand the aesthetic value of the change but there are regularly posts that i straight up can't see anymore because of this. there should be an option for high contrast backgrounds available so that people who need it can still have it.

next is the zoom. the double tap to zoom was one of my favorite features. because when something was small or hard to see it was easy to make it visible and i didn't have to change how i was holding my phone. now if i need to zoom, i have to shift and the pinch to zoom is very buggy. it is difficult to get the zoom where i need it on the image and it regularly causes glitches that alter the image. and i have to zoom out and back in to move when i am zoomed in to or else the new swipe features engage. this is hard on my eyes and hard on my hands that have fucked up joints because it requires a lot more small repetitive motions to do the same thing. this change seems to be mostly conformist to be more like other sites which is disappointing for the hellsite, bit it could easily be made at least accessable if there were an option to have the double tap zoom or even if the bugs on the pinch zoom were fixed.

lastly is the swipe feature. while this is mechanically and aesthetically obnoxious to me i will hold my focus on accessability. it interacts very poorly with the zoom feature, making it hard to navigate the image viewer when zooming is needed. from a dexterity standpoint, it also makes it more difficult to see what i want to see. if my hands a shaking i will sometimes open an image and get an entirely different one because of the algorithm swipe. I've had to scroll back up to three times to get what i actually clicked on because the swipe function is so sensitive and buggy. it is also more difficult to close the image. i often have to give it multiple attempts to close the image because when i swipe down, it doesn't go away and i can't get my back button to come up without it going to a new post. the bugs should be fixed and it needs some mechanical fixes, but this should also be made optional.

tldr for @staff: the new image viewer is deeply inaccessible for visually impaired people and people with dexterity issues and the bugginess makes it so much worse. all of the new features around the image viewer should be made optional for both accessability reasons and aesthetic reasons. i understand the attempt to streamline the site to look and feel more 'modern' but please don't forget that disabled people still want to use this site

[inklore]

Hey dear! How long since I wrote to you, I don't know if I can ask but could you give me some advice on how to edit/theme/customize your blog in an aesthetic way?

Idk, even basic tips are fine, I really love seeing your blog and I think you have really good taste in aesthetics ❤️

hey lovey! it would be my pleasure to try and help you <3. i say try because my explaining skills are the absolute worst but i will do my best lmao. gonna do this in bullet points ok:

have an idea / inpisration / a crumb of what you want your blog to look like! you can find inspo literally anywhere, a friends blog even (but please remember to always ask and don't take it harshly if said person declines you doing so). pinterest is also amazing for this, looking up graphics, different aesthetics, templates, i literally have a board on my pinterest i've had for years now where i get graphic inspo or where i go when i just need to feed my creative juices to put me in the mood to create something. canva is also great, i literally go on there and look up headers, moodboards, etc and just star them for later. keywords are everything as well, so like 'aesthetic here + color, vibe, look, graphic, template' helps sites like canva and pin lead you in the right direction. same with just typing things like 'green, grunge, lovecore, etc'.

edit on desktop! now i know not everyone has a laptop or ipad or the ability to do this but i highly rec it over editing on the janky mobile app where sometimes things save and sometimes they don't. plus i always use one of the random saved user blogs i have to make a test layout / theme so if i don't like it everything on my main blog is fine, didn't change, and i didn't waste all that time on a theme i don't even want to look at lmao. so making a side blog where you do that is also great cause you can just copy and paste your nav post over, you can take the graphics you've already made and upload them onto your main without second guessing if they look good because you've already seen what it all looks like!

start small! by that i mean start with a simple theme or idea and build up from that. don't just start with seven graphics and ideas and overwhelm yourself. sometimes i just think of a color and be like yeah i'm make something with this color or wrapped around that color and i create something great.

ask a friend for help! i can't tell you how many times i've asked friends if this theme looked good or to send me inspo pics or what theme they think i should do, or even asked them to help me find resources. utilize your besties and mutuals.

not everyones aesthetic is the same! some people like messy themes, some like overdone, some like super simple. don't compare yourself to anyone!!!! everyone creates differently, everyone sees colors and aesthetics amd themes differently. no matter what you decide to go with is all your own and great and special.

etc: putting all your most important links in your nav is always a good rule of thumb (anything you really want to highlight as well), if you use pngs they're all over tumblr and pinterest 'transparent' + 'png' at the end or beginning of what you're looking for will always lead you in the right direction, and when it comes to pngs i highly rec adding them to a white background or transparent one and make the size of the background 500px and move the png halfway / towards the bottom (centered) of the background so tumblr doesn't make your header all the way at the top and ugly, don't make your nav post too long, take colors from your images / aesthetics to incorporate throughout the whole theme so everything meshes well together, don't use flashy dividers because it's not good on a lot of users eyes and unless you state a tw in the tags it's just not as cool as some people think lol.

that's all i can think of but if you have any more questions bby my pms are open!!

[awwyeah107]

So, has anyone else been seeing this really annoying lil thing at the bottom corner of their screen on desktop on your dash?

And it's not just a still image, but it's a gif? Yeah. Me too.

Here's how to temporarily get rid of this teeth-with-feet icon. It's a quick HTML fix, and I have no idea if anyone is going to read this post and find it helpful—plenty of people on here already know HTML enough to do this, and I'm a really small blog—but I thought I might as well post it anyway. Instructions below the cut.

Depending on your computer and your browser, some of the things may look slightly different; I have a Mac and I'm using Chrome.

Quick summary of what we are doing: We are deleting a part of code from the code that makes up the web page, and therefore erasing the teeth-with-feet icon from your local browser page.

Step 1: Right click on your browser window. It can be anywhere. This will open up a menu with several options, and one of those should be "Inspect". (The actual title of the action is "Inspect Element." Your browser may or may not have this feature enabled, but you can likely turn it on in your settings. I recommend Googling it if you don't know.) Select the "Inspect" option.

By clicking "Inspect," an HTML editor will pop up on the right side of the screen. If you aren't familiar with HTML, or even if you are to some extent, it will look like a bunch of gobbledegook. Don't worry. We're not getting into all that.

Step 2: Right click directly on the teeth-with-feet icon and then "Inspect" once again to jump to the code for the thing in the HTML editor.

Below, the code for the teeth-with-feet icon is selected in blue in the HTML editor, and there's a shaded box around the icon on the browser window.

Step 3: Once you have the code selected in the HTML editor, simply press your delete key. That's it. That's literally all you have to do.

Poof. It's gone. You can see there's a bit of code for the button, but there's no actual image there any more.

Yay! It's gone!

So, this is only a temporary measure. It will come back. Honestly, I don't know the length of time off the top of my head that it stays gone for. I know that if you reload the page it doesn't come back, at least not right away. It likely has to do with your cache and cookies, but I'm not quite savvy enough with that sort of thing to know, and I...don't care quite enough to really try to find out past a quick Google that did not yield any answers for it XD (Someone out there probably knows.)

(You can also do this for other HTML elements! However, I haven't experimented with deleting any other HTML elements on Tumblr.)

Anyway. Now you can live free of the annoying teeth-with-feet icon, and it only involves a quick delete from the HTML every so often until Tumblr stops putting it up, lol. Have a great day/night/whatever time you read this!

[ebaypiner]

Call of cthulhu 7e character sheet

#Call of cthulhu 7e character sheet how to

#Call of cthulhu 7e character sheet update

#Call of cthulhu 7e character sheet plus

#Call of cthulhu 7e character sheet how to

So now that we know how to roll both by hand, where do we put those? Which attribute is a 3d6, and which is a 2d6 +6? Here is a handy reference list for what attributes we need to create to make a character, and a list of which characteristics are calculated based on the ones we roll. Rolling 2D6 +6 being rolled, but no total yet. The result will be a 2d6 +6, with both die faces rolled showing, and the added +6. When you see the floating d6, right click once, and it will become 2d6.

#Call of cthulhu 7e character sheet plus

So simply set the modifier box to a plus six, then left click and hold the actual six sided die at the bottom of the screen. If you put your mouse over that box, your mouse wheel will now cycle through a positive or negative modifier to apply to your next roll. To accomplish this, you need to use the Modifier box that is at the bottom left of the Fantasy Grounds desktop. This creates a roll between 8 and 18, giving the character a leg up over a general 3d6 roll, which can go as low as 3. Some are rolled as two six sided dice, then you add six to the total. Rolling 3D6īut not every attribute is rolled with 3 six sided dice. Fantasy Grounds shows your dice rolling, and then the chat window will show each die face, and the total. Now you will have 3d6 loaded on the mouse, and you can drag that right into the chat window. So left click and hold on the d6, then right click twice. Simply left click and hold on the die, in this case the d6, and while you have a d6 hovering under your mouse, right click multiple times to add dice to what you are about to roll. Anyone familiar with Fantasy Grounds should be aware of how to roll multiple dice. The first method, and perhaps the simplest, is to just roll the dice by hand and add them to the character sheet. I am going to focus on three different approaches, each with their own benefits. While this process is fairly simple, there are a lot of ways we can approach this. The next step in creating our character is to roll our attributes. Neat! We can close the character selection box at any time by the way.

#Call of cthulhu 7e character sheet update

This image will also update on the character selection box. Once you select something suitable, it will update on your character sheet as the portrait, and as your character token. The usual Fantasy Grounds token/picture selection screen should open allowing you to navigate through whatever images you have available to you based on what you might have locally, and what your Keeper may have shared for this campaign. Next click on the larger square icon on the top of your character sheet. It will automatically update in the character selection box. To assign a name, just type it in on the appropriate line in the character sheet. Especially if other players are making their investigators at the same time as you. But for now, we want something to differentiate it from other characters. Don’t worry too much about this, we can always go back and change it later. Once our character exists, we need to give it a name and select a picture. Just click on the green plus symbol, and our new character will be created with the character sheet open for us to start working. Unless this is our first Investigator, in which case it will be empty. Once we open that window, we will have a list of characters, with portraits, staring back at us. Once we are logged in, the icon that is typically at the top right side of the Fantasy Grounds desktop should be a Characters button. Your keeper will be able to help you load whichever he has made available to you. It will either be the reference materials for the Call of Cthulhu ruleset (this will be called “CoC 7e Reference”), or the Investigators Handbook (called “Call of Cthulhu 7e Investigators Handbook”). Your Keeper/Host/GM should be able to help you with this, but it is generally going to involve having one of two things loaded. Step 1 – Create the Blank Character Desktopīefore we get to actually creating our intrepid Investigator, we need to make sure we have the correct materials loaded to actually populate our character sheet. So fire up Fantasy Grounds to the CoC7E ruleset, and let’s get started. While the Basic RolePlaying System (BRP) it is built upon is pretty easy, the character creation process has some areas requiring a bit of clarification. But while the Call of Cthulhu 7th Edition ruleset for Fantasy Grounds is pretty impressive, there is little to no documentation available for how to use many of its features. There are quite a few fully supported rulesets, and most of them have great automation built in to really streamline your game sessions. Creating a Call of Cthulhu Character (7th Edition) in Fantasy Groundsįantasy Grounds is an amazing tool for online roleplaying sessions, and can even be a great tool to organize and present a face to face game with some basic setup and a monitor or projector.

[cowboykissing]

re-listening to last week’s episode because im still processing... i need to share some of the parts that made me sit on my kitchen floor like this:

transcription under the cut, in case you don’t have headphones on hand

Jeremy: ...and [Dean] has this moment of clarity where he realizes "I shouldn't have left Sam and Jack." like, you know I- Jesus, I'm getting kind of. fucking. emotional even talking about this.

Chris: He gets it. This is "Everybody should be here" and you know, or an "everybody's going to die. And I, and I can't stop it."

And it's still- the whole time she's- Billie is hammering on the outside.

Death is literally knocking on the door.

And Dean says-

Dean just says, "I'm sorry."

Yeah, "She's going to break through. She's going to kill you and she's going to kill me. I'm sorry." And this is, uh- I'm going to open a beer.

[beer opening sound]

Open the beer! This is where Castiel starts talking and we're not going to be able to do this justice,

(...) Um, and Castiel's just- as he starts breaking this down, that's where I think we ALL start to break down.

(...) ...[about everything Dean and Cas have been through together] that connection, more than anything, changed Dean so much. And this is where Castiel delivers the line. "I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean." And you can see on Dean's face- it's all coming crashing down. He's realizing that this is the moment of happiness that he talked about, that this is when it's going to happen. And Castiel looks at him and says "I love you." And Dean begs.

He, dude, he says "You changed me, Dean." and then Dean says "Why does this sound like a goodbye?" Castiel says "Because it is." and then says "I love you, Dean." [stunned little pause] Jesus Christ.

And man, like,

Also, just to stop, so uh... I love a lot of people. Family, friends. But I can't imagine saying anything like this or feeling this way about anyone other than, you know, Jess, you know, the person that I love romantically. It's that special person, that special person in your life.

(...) Love- I don't think it really existed for Castiel.

I don't think so.

-befoere Dean. I don't know if love exists for angels. I know that they've played with that kind of stuff before, but I don't know if- not like this. I don't think it has existed like this.

This feels like something new and unique and that- this bond between the human and this angel just altered the course of the entire universe.

[voice cracking] Dude. To love and be loved so much, that you defy God.

Absolutely! I wouldn't defy God for Autumn. I mean, she's great. Don't get me wrong.

I ain't doing it. I ain't gonna do it. -unless I know I'm in a JRPG situation that I'm suiting up. I'm a square up with God.

[laughter, fade into gamer talk]

(...) Everything that's happened, and like him- leading to this moment. And it's. It's so big! It's so huge! And it's hard not to talk about this on a fandom level, too, because for YEARS, we're talking like 16 years at this point (or not 16, I guess, you know, 11 years, since Castiel showed up) that this has been... It is literally the biggest, like, ship of all time. Like, in so many different ways. Whether we talk about number of stories on AO3 or the "characters that should get together the most" or just like everybody- It feels like this is the biggest thing. And to have the show go fucking, out of its way to confirm it. And like you said, to me, there's no, to me there's no misinterpreting this. Like, when he says "You changed me, I love you" there is no, absolutely no way, you can in any shape or form that you can say "Oh well, they're just- super cool friends. They're guys being dudes." Like, fuck that! Absolutely not.

Hey, hey, is it gay to tell your homies that you love them? In this case, yes, it fucking is!

(...)

Castiel pulled him out of literal hell, and I think that Castiel just pulled Dean out of his personal hell that he's been living in ever since.

Okay. Love it.

I think offering him that unconditional, full love, and then he pulls him out - he's literally pulling him out of the way of death, but - I think he just pulled Dean out of his personal hell with that confession. And of course, Dean doesn't get to...

(...)

I think I described it in the Discord as having this like incredibly euphoric high and then getting the worst news of your life at the same time.

To me, it's Dean Winchester sitting there and reviewing - like I think a lot of people do, whether it's because of mental health issues or whether it's because of self doubt or whatever - He is literally reliving every single moment, every single argument, every single slight, every single thing that has ever happened between him and Castiel, and revisiting it in this new light and just fucking dying inside. And just realizing "I had this in front of me, but I was too angry, I was too blind, I was too stubborn. I was not willing. I was too scared. I was too- I just wouldn't accept it." And going through every- like going through the breakup from earlier this season. Like, I don't think you get here without that. As much as we kind of didn't like it at the time, it justifies that entire arc and all of those characters feelings for one another. And I feel like at the time, you had a really nice way of thinking. Like Dean thinking "Did I go too far when I shoved him out the bunker?" And here he's like "Absolutely."

[inside joke:]"Was it fucked up that we never gave him his own room?"

[laughter]

Yeah, but here he's absolutely just dying at every single interaction and imagining how much he failed Castiel in light of Castiel having loved him this entire time and realizing that like "Oh, shit. I absolutely love this dude back. And now my chance is gone. And he sacrificed himself for me." And I feel like Dean is basically going to be useless in the next two episodes.

I don't know how he's gonna...

I don't either. I feel like we're gonna to see the most-

How's he going to tell Sam?

[laughter]

What do you- What do you say?

Not just that Castiel died, but like- How do you even like- How do you- You can't.

You can't.

You can't make somebody else feel- what that was.

(...)

It makes me want to like reevaluate the way that I treat the people that I love [😳], you know, to appreciate them more because this speech is so beautiful and you don't know when- just love people. Just tell people that you love them because you could get eaten by the Empty at any moment.

(...)

The guy - Robert Berens, I believe "Bobo", as they call him in fandom - this was his plan from the beginning. By all accounts this was like, he wasn't going to come back on for Supernatural until they said this is going to be the last season and he was like, "Well, this is what I want to do." Like he was actively going for this relationship and he wanted this to happen, and I think that's- one of the most beautiful things in the world to actually accomplish that on a CW show that has resisted so much. With a bunch of actors, frankly, that have resisted so much. Even now, after the show is over with, who resist the idea that this could be an actual relationship between two men, a romantic relationship between two men and it's so incredibly frustrating. (And I don't pay a lot of attention to cons and things but of course it like stuff floats to the top) and hearing Jared mealy mouth his way through some of the responses on some of the stuff hering even Jensen mealy mouth his way through some of the responses on some of the stuff being real "middle of the road, the centeral is going to be the path of least resistance" kind of bullshit, instead of just saying "Yeah, they're totally gay for each other." It's really disappointing for me to have looked at these two dudes and think that they're great guys, right? Like, I don't know anything about them but by all accounts, by the things that they have done in their personal lives and their professional lives are great dudes. It makes me just not like them as much. And I'm not saying that I don't like...

Nobody likes a fence-sitter. Nobody likes a fence-sitter.

Exactly. Especially with something like as FUCKING BASIC as this.

@monsteroftheweekpodcast

[bts-hyperfixation]

Jungkook’s Christmas Bonus

CEO Y/N finds Jungkook working in the office just as late as she is. After he offers to walk her home, she offers him a special Christmas present.

Prompt: Jungkook is a normal office worker and reader is the CEO and Jungkook ends up staying late the day before Christmas in the office and reader goes up to him at midnight (Christmas day) and gives him a little present for working hard.

1) "Oh, look, Mistletoe"

“Jungkook? I didn’t realise anyone was still here” You glance at the clock on the wall and then back at the man sitting still working at his desk. It was just after eleven, almost Christmas. You’d honestly thought you’d been alone for hours now.

“Sorry, I just really wanted to get this project finished, I was just about to log off.” He said saving his work.

“Have you not got a girlfriend missing you somewhere? I’m sure she can’t be happy knowing your working on Christmas eve…” You ask, leaning on the corner of his desk.

“Oh, no, I don’t… I’m spending the holidays alone this year. How about you, Miss big-time CEO? Isn’t someone missing you right now?”

“Nope, couldn’t afford to take the time off to fly home, and no man in sight sadly.” You trace your fingers over his paperwork, doing your best to look just the right amount of pathetic. “Anyway, I’m locking up now, are you ready to go?” You ask hopping up straight. He nods and shuts down his desktop, before grabbing his keys.

The two of you walk making brief small talk through the hallways towards the front door. It’s nice, you’ve always found Jungkook to be a good man. One of your favourite employees. And very easy on the eyes. You often had to stop your gaze from straying to his lips when he talked, or his ass when he walked. The tight jeans he wore to work definitely didn’t help.

“Oh, look,” Jungkook says stopping in his tracks and pointing above you. “Mistletoe…”

“Huh, the maintenance staff must’ve hung some up for fun.” You shrug about to move on when you notice the way he is looking at your lips. The same way you try not to look at his. You step a little closer to him, aligning yourself directly under the plant. You look up at the leaves and then back at him curious as to what he would do next.

He bravely took your hint. He leant in to close the gap, pressing his lips to yours gingerly. It’s cute, an innocent little peck. But now the only thought in your head is an image of a ruined Jungkook, naked and panting underneath you. You get a bit carried away, pushing your body against his to deepen the kiss. He lets you for a moment before seemingly coming to his senses and remembering where he is, who you are.

He jumps back and coughs politely. You smile to reassure him he had done nothing wrong and then continue walking to the front door. He follows closely behind and waits as you lock the door. Too much of a gentleman to leave you alone.

“How are you getting home Y/N?” He asks when he notices your car missing from the empty parking lot.

“It’s in the shop over Christmas, so I’m walking. It's only a few blocks.” You move to walk away, hand ready to wave him goodbye.

“You can’t walk alone!” He blurts out, grabbing onto your hand before you can tell him to go home himself. “I mean… I’ll walk you, it’s not good to be walking this late on your own.”

“Your apartment is the other way isn’t it?” You ask, afraid of putting the poor boy out. He holds your hand tightly like you’d run away if he released it.

“It doesn’t matter, please let me walk you. I’d feel awful if anything happened.” You were about to decline again when the same image of him from before crossed your mind. Maybe he had thought the same thing? Even if he didn’t it would be nice to have the company, so you nodded. He grinned wide and dropped your hand. Although it seemed a little reluctant.

You slipped the office keys into your bag and started heading for home with Jungkook by your side.

It really wasn’t a long trip, maybe twenty minutes, but with your new companion, it seemed to come to an end all too quickly. You stopped outside of your apartment complex and look up and him. His cheeks were rosy from the cold and his hands were shoved as far into his pockets as they would go.

“Oh! You’re freezing!” You say reaching out to touch his cheek, not really registering that you were also a block of ice. He flinched when your icy fingertips touched his face. “You need to come inside and warm up! We can call a taxi to take you home or something.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I don’t want to disturb your night; I’ll just walk home it’s only another 15 or so minutes that way.” He says gesturing in the direction you had just come from. You don’t listen to his protests, electing to grab on to his arm and drag him inside. He digs his heels in, but you are surprisingly determined, and he relents, if only so you will go inside yourself.

You take the elevator up to your apartment in silence. You keep your arm hooked around his, savouring the closeness until you had to let go. He couldn’t hold in his awe when he entered your apartment. Being a CEO really pays off, the view from your living room is spectacular. It's the entire reason you bought the place. You can see for miles along the city skyline and at night the lights of the buildings around created a wonderful glow inside.

You watched as Jungkook slipped off his shoes and went to watch the city sleep as you unwound your scarf and removed your coat. While he tried to find his own apartment building you poured a drink for the two of you. One little nightcap wouldn’t hurt. He took the drink without really thinking about it, too wrapped up in his task.

“Have you found it?” You ask when his eyes light up.

“Yeah it’s over there.” He points through the glass, but you can’t really make out which building he is pointing at. Determined to let you see, he moves behind you directing your hand so you could point it out yourself. That’s when your old grandfather clock tolls loudly throughout your apartment making you jump. You accidentally press yourself back into his crotch. He whimpers at the brief touch, and you turn yourself in his arms, figuring now as good a time as any to make your move.

“Merry Christmas Jungkook…” You say drawing out his name. “You know, you’ve been such a great employee this year… I’d really like to give you a little present, to show you just how happy I am with your work.” You press your chest against his and bat your eyelashes flirtatiously. The rosy blush that had barely faded returned full force at your praise.

Clearly caught off guard by your advance, the man steps away from you. You try not to take it personally. You must’ve misread the signals, or perhaps he thought it’d put his job at risk. You’re just about to apologise and offer to call that taxi for him when he steps back into your space and kisses you. Much more than a peck this time.

His tongue traced along the seem of your lips until you let him in. You start to go lightheaded as he grips onto your sides to keep you against him. You wrap your arms around his neck to keep yourself upright under his force. And then just when your breath runs out he pulls away panting, looking mildly scared.

“Oh, shit… that is what you meant by present right? Ah fuck…” He runs his fingers through his hair, completely terrified he had misread the situation. He starts to mutter something about finding a new job under his breath, just as you wrap your arms around his middle and press a reassuring kiss to his cheek.

“It’s exactly what I meant… actually I meant a little more than just that.” He raises his pierced eyebrow, considering your words before they truly sink in. When he finally catches on his mouth forms a little ‘o’ and you can’t help but giggle at the cute expression. “Please don’t think you have to though; I can still call you a taxi.”

He shakes his head vigorously at the suggestion. He lifts you into his arms, all those hours he spent in the employee gym clearly paying off.

“Where’s your room?” He asks excitedly. You point at the door at the end of the corridor, and he carries you off in that direction. You unbutton his shirt as he walks, desperate to see what his abs look like. He kicks the door open and drops you unceremoniously on the bed. You fall back on your elbows, and he covers your body with his.

He nips along your jaw before nibbling at your earlobe, as your hands push his shirt away. He throws it to the other side of the room, trying to keep his mouth on you without get distracted. You run your fingers along the centre line of his abs. He shivers at your touch.

“That tickles.” He whispers in your ear, having the same effect on you. “Take your shirt off, I wanna see you too.” He adds just to feel you shiver again.

You oblige, awkwardly undoing the buttons of your blouse, your hands having trouble working in the small gap between your chest and his. The situation isn’t helped by the way he keeps subconsciously grinding against you. His lips found their way back to yours, distracting you even further from the task at hand. Eventually, he got bored of waiting for you and decided to take matters into his own hands ripping the buttons apart.

“I liked that shirt.” You scold, although it comes out muffled, and is definitely half-hearted.

“You can afford a new one.” He dismisses, reaching down for the zipper on the side of your skirt. He tugs it down and reluctantly sits back on his heels so you can shimmy out of the garment. You also take the liberty of space to remove your underwear, baring your chest and pussy fully to the man.

He doesn’t even bother to try to kiss you again. He sinks immediately to the floor and wraps arms around the tops of your thighs, pulling you to the edge. He doesn’t hesitate, just dives in face first. He licks a long stripe against your pussy. His flat tongue feels hot against your damp folds.

It doesn’t take long for him to become more focused in his pursuit, he circles his tongue around your hole, dipping in briefly and then travels to pay more attention to your clit.

He unwraps his arms from around your thighs. On hand presses just above your pubic mound to keep you in place. The other snakes between your legs. Two fingers drag between your folds gathering slick to ease the glide when he pushes them inside of you. The fingers stretch you out, not really prepared to take them both so quickly, but he is so gentle it barely hurts. He lets you adjust on the digits before starting a rougher pace.

Everything about his movements feels too good. You wrap your fingers into his hair just to prove to yourself he is really in between your legs.

“Tell me I’ve been a good boy.” He says, mouth pulling away from your clit just as you are about to cum.

“Earn it.” You reply wiggling until he attaches his lips around you. He sucks hard, occasionally flicking his tongue against you. Once again he pulls away just as your orgasm is about to hit.

“Tell me I’m a good boy now…” He says before blowing against your sensitive entrance.

“I said you had to earn it Jeon, make me cum and I will tell you exactly what you are.” His fingers start to pull away at your refusal.

“I don’t think you are in a position to refuse me right now.” He hovers millimetres away from you. So close you could almost push up into his lips again but a strong hand against your abdomen keeps you in place.

“I don’t think praise is supposed to be blackmailed out of someone.” You try to sound authoritative. But after having your orgasm ruined twice it was more of a whine.

“And I don’t think your in a position to argue boss.” The look in his eyes is positively evil. You roll your eyes at him, but he just takes it as more of a challenge. He nibbles at your clit, not providing enough stimulation to take you all the way. Just enough to bring you closer to the edge again. You groan in frustration, and he laughs.

“Fine you win. You’re such a good boy, the best, fucking me so good with your fingers Kookie. Please let me cum.” His fingers return, scissoring in time to the licks against your clit. You hold your breath as the tension in your stomach builds. You cry out when it hits you, legs shaking from the release of pressure that had been building for far too long.

He kisses up along your stomach and chest, stopping briefly to suck a small purple mark on your collarbone.

“Was that so hard?” He teases, kissing you so you can taste your own orgasm.

“Such an arrogant boy, but a very very good boy…” you admit begrudgingly. His grin only gets wider.

He undoes his fly and kicks his own bottoms out of the way. He meets your eyes as he lines himself up to you. He rubs his head along your folds, using his hand to coat his cock in your cum.

“Ready for me?”

“More than” You nod. He pushes in agonisingly slowly. Your walls clench as he starts to bottom out, an inch or so bigger than you’re used to. You groan as you feel his hips hit yours.

“God you feel even better than I thought you would.” He moans, his deep voice so close to your ear makes your stomach clench.

“You’ve thought about it?” You can’t help smirking, finally feeling like you might have the upper hand.

“I promise you every man you have in the office has thought about it.” He admits. His face scrunches as he slowly drags his hips back so he can thrust back into you. You can’t help blushing when he says that. You’d never really paid attention to the attention you’ve garnered around the office.

“I promise you, you are the only man in the office I have thought about…” You admit. His hips buck unexpectedly at your unexpected honesty.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good.” He practically growls, making good on his promise as he pushes into you harder. You grip onto his broad shoulders to keep yourself steady as he went as fast and hard as he could, occasionally readjusting himself to hit a new angle.

“Shit Kookie right there.” You cry as he angles himself upwards. You slip a hand from his shoulders to your clit, finishing yourself off as he tried to keep the same position that had you nearly in tears. You squeeze tight around him as you cum, forcing him to stop moving inside of you. You push your hips against him, wriggling just enough to finish him off.

He pulls away and collapses next to you on the bed panting. You lean up on your elbow and drape yourself over the top of him. Your image of him earlier hadn’t been half as pretty as the real thing panting and sweaty beneath you.

Masterlist

Happy Hoe-lidays

Taglist: @giadalin

[sukunasstomachtongue]

"That it, Bossman?"

Chile, I been gone so long, I'm just gonna post and go.

Series Masterlist

Taglist [OPEN]: @prettyvintageafternoon @zennydaye @lalaooopsie @leahnicole121919

Rating: Pg-13

Warning: naughty dreams, cursing, obsessive Bruce Wayne

She’s been haunting his mind ever since that meeting. This was an outcome even the greatest detective could have predicted. Morning, noon, and night, her visage ghosted around the empty halls and intersections of his mind, interrupting his day to day thoughts with a coy smile and trail of department store perfume.

The growing desire to jolt his head up and scour his surroundings every time he heard her laugh was getting hard to control. His heart couldn’t cope with the delusions of his mind. Everything reminded Bruce of her. 

Torture sessions replaced his sleep schedule. After his patrol in the dank underworld of his city, Bruce would return home to his estate, shower, then sleep. That’s how it’s always been since he became Batman. Injuries and catastrophic events would interrupt this routine, of course, but Dove ripped it to shreds. His silk sheets buried him like waves, drowning him until the oxygen in his lungs were depleted and the hallucinations started.

“Bruce…Bruce...please Bruce,” It always started with pleading. The begging in her raspy tone would be the initial strike, the first nail in the coffin. 

Brown skin, gleaming with sweat, shining under the spotlight. Her marks and moles painted illustrations on her skin, something that his mouth wanted to trace to perfection. Her body twitching, bared and naked for his eyes only. The images were overwhelming. 

“Touch me, Bruce. Please.” The fingers, smaller and more delicate than his, cleaner than his could ever be, blessed his rosy skin with featherlight touches. Moans flooding his ears, taking over his senses. 

“Touch me here, Bruce.” After the second request to feel her form under his fingertips, he would always wake up tangled in his bedsheets. Even in his dreams he couldn’t take the plunge. It felt wrong somehow, his morality had drawn the line in the sand. Searching up personal information on the batcave’s computer system was one thing, touching dream Dove was another. 

Breaking into the security feed of a small ethnic grocery shop that sold a specific brand of popsicles he found in Spinelli’s shop one night after an uneventful patrol? 

That toes the line.

But ultimately, could be overlooked. If anyone asked, and no one could or ever thought to question the respectable Bruce Wayne, a casual remark about the growing diversity in Gotham City would explain his sudden detours to that side of town. No one could fault him for being curious.

Especially when the curiosity paid off in the board meetings. Everyone fawned over his dedication to creating strong cell towers throughout the city. No one needed to know that Bruce only discovered the discontinuity in connection strength by dealing with the five second lag he experienced watching closed footage from his batcave. 

Today was like any other day. Waking up from a dream that left him unbearably hard in his silk pajamas- an issue he would have to address in his morning shower-, completing his tasks at his company, shaking hands and making deals with Gotham's elite. A simple routine he’s followed for years. But now comes with a twist. 

“I think I’ll go visit that deli again for lunch. Want something, Fox?” The older man shifted his focus from the prototype blueprints on his desktop to gauge his boss’s movements. Swift, everything Bruce Wayne could be studied and classified as efficient. He never moved excessively or put in more work than required. A trait few picked up, fortunate for him or else everyone would see him for what he really was.

A walking contradiction.

“That little shop off Westward? Isn’t that a bit out of your way, Mr. Wayne? We need to finish these plans as soon as possible.” Lucious reasoned. The small food court within Wayne Towers had more than enough options to satisfy the evolving palate of its well traveled owner. 

“I won’t be long. I’ll bring you back those snack cakes you like so much.”

Bruce smoothed his overcoat topping his suit, slyly wiping the sweat that had beaded up on his palms away. There was nothing to be nervous about. Bruce just wanted to get a sandwich and return to his office. 

This had nothing to do with it being late lunch hour, which just so happened to be what Dove favored to avoid heavy mid-day traffic. 

The world class chef’s at Wayne Towers couldn’t replicate the sauce only available at the small hole in wall deli. Or offer the variety of international snacks found in its compact aisles and fridges. Like the popsicles he tried the other day. The same ones he found in Spinelli’s trash. 

The bell dinged and the men grunted a hello from behind the counter. Their idea of good service and Bruce’s idea were on two different planets, but the billionaire knew a thing or two about being cocky. The type of cockiness he wielded at socials and galas, where all his peers and onlookers whimpered at his feet and laughed at his pisspoor jokes. The type of cockiness being the best breeds in a person. Knowing no matter what you do, you’ll still be untouchable.

It was a heady feeling, akin to consuming the finest absinthe. 

“Yo! What can I do for you bossman?” Cold steel eyes scanned the walkways and mirrors in the corners of the store, searching for that familiar head full of tamed hair. Did he come too late? Too early? Is she not on her lunch right now? Maybe, Bruce reasoned as the man fixed up his order while talking loudly to his coworker, maybe she went to another shop for lunch. 

Still, this would be his third time coming to the store without laying eyes on his current object of intrigue. At this point, going back to the footage and coming up with a new plan seemed like the best next step-

The bell dinged.

“Oi, there’s our little princess! Where you been at?” Following the cashier’s gaze, Bruce’s heartbeat picked up with a shy bit of hope racing through his system.

Pretty brown eyes. Hair covered by a neon yellow beanie. Black stockings with the smallest rips along her outer knee and a pretty red scarf that had seen better days. 

“Po, you know I have to wait until the fifteenth to afford one of your sandwiches. Don’t play dumb.” Bruce’s ears perked. There was a sharpness in her voice he had only heard from tapping into audio tapes from around the city. How familiar was she with these two?

“You talking to me, the man that makes your food, like that?” 

“I never said a word to Sammy.” A raspy chuckle trailed her response. “Sammy, how are you darlin? Po not working you too hard, right?”

“He not, but you could.” Dove snorted, tapping along the laminate wood counter, bringing the line count from one to two. In front of her, A sharp dressed man dug in his pocket for his wallet and collected his sandwich. 

“Boy, stop playing with my emotions like you don’t got a husband at home and make my food.” 

“That it bossman?” Brown eyes finally took notice of the figure at the register and the woman felt her body temperature drop. Of all people to catch her outside of her work persona, it had to be the most important man in the city, the possible key to her upward mobility if she impressed him enough. 

Should she speak up? Call his attention and butter him up with her hopefully endearing personality? Would it be best to act like she didn’t recognize him? But, Dove scrunched her nose in agitation as her eyes tracked Sammy slapping her sandwich together behind the glass barrier, who in Gotham wouldn’t recognize Bruce Wayne? The real dilemma was would he remember her? 

Sure they shared a meal one time, but a man like him must be drowning with dozens of shared dinners with women. Nothing made her special-

“No caviar this time?” As if sensing her internal dialogue, Bruce’s smooth voice startled her and solved her issue at the same time. Their eyes met, and everything outside of the woman next to him faded away from his vision. It was alarming how she could fog his brain with a simple look, which only made Bruce want to be around her more, orbit around like the moon does the earth, tethered to her gravity with no desire to break free.

“Not this time, Mr. Wayne-”

“Princess, want it toasted?” Sammy asked, breaking up the beginning of what Bruce thought to be a beautiful moment. His trained ears could hear the swallow of saliva being forced down her esophagus.

“Yes, add it to my total.” Too distracted by the thought of a warm lunch for the first time in ages, Dove is blind to the intense look her sponsor gives Sammy. 

“Mr. Wayne, you keep paying for my food and Gotham will start talking. I’ll end at the top of the gotham gazette web page.” Dove protested lighty, enough to say she tried but not enough for him to change his mind about buying her lunch. 

Bruce fought the goofy smile looking for a place on his face, sliding his card over for payment. Buying things for pretty girls was familiar territory for the billionaire. He could consider it foreplay at this point. In his experience, nothing made a woman want him more than getting a feel for how big his pocket bulge was. 

A decorated palm rose to wave at the gentlemen behind the counter. Wordlessly, the pair exited the shop with Bruce holding the door for her, the door chime signaling their return to society, one where a man like him didn't pay much mind to women like her. But Bruce had so much more he wanted to say.

Every parting with her tugged at his heart, demanding he take drastic action to keep her in his sights.  A more impulsive man would clasp her hand and smooze her number out. 

“If anyone ever gives you trouble, kindly send them to my office. I’ll take care of it, Dove.” What a man, she thinks. There must be something wrong with him. She found it hard to resist his charm, or believe that the persona he donned for the general public and the man on a midday lunch break were the same person. 

“In that case, maybe you should give me your number.” Bold. He liked it.

Thank goodness.

[greenhorn-art]

Title: walk by faith/tell no one what you've seen (AO3 link)

Author: @killbothtwins​

Fandom: Star Wars

Length: 39, 188 words | 160 pages total

After the end of the war with the Empire, Obi-Wan wakes up in his twelve-year old body. Now all he needs to do is convince everyone he's psychic, trick his Master into taking him on before he's sent to Bandomeer, redeem a few bad guys, and try not to have a nervous breakdown. Pretty easy. It's not like the Sith are lurking on the horizon, waiting to devour the Jedi Order.

more pics and ramblings below the cut.

I love time travel fics, especially ones where Obi-Wan time travels! This fic was really good! (and you know it’s well-written when the author has sources in their notes lol)

I’ve had this one laying around half-assembled since early December, and finally finished it in February. The typesetting and sewing it up went smoothly, but everything after that? Hooooo boy. You ever have to set something down and leave it alone for a while because you’re too frustrated with it? I had all my measurements and steps written down in front of me (with diagrams even!), and yet I managed to do something wrong with every. single. step. Also ran out of glue half way through putting the cover together, so I made wheat paste for the first time. Made way more than I was able to use, and cooked it too long so it was really thick, but it got the job done! It was quick, easy, cheaper than buying acid-free pva, and easier to acquire! Nice.

p.s. does anyone know how to get the images side-by-side in desktop tumblr?  ‘read more’ won’t work on mobile, and desktop wont let me add images side-by-side. it’s either/or because it just undoes the other when i switch from mobile to desktop :’(

For the full title page I wanted to do something more exciting than just text. I used two drawings of Obi-Wan by an artist who's work I love, one of Padawan Obi-Wan and one of him ROTS era. I put them together, made a few edits to the colouring, added a background, then added the Star Wars logo and text.

[mrs-gucci]

A Different Kind of Urgent {Charlie Barber x Reader}

author’s notes: hellooooo! my penpal friend, a fellow adam driver rat, sent me a print of a charlie picture (that I’d seen a gajillion times before, mind you) and for some reason, I thirsted hard. so, naturally, I wrote a fic inspired by the picture. the reader in this story is a college professor, but it doesn’t really contribute to any ‘essential’ parts of the story (aka the smutty parts). it’s just her job lol

warnings: smut. some fluff. masturbation. semi-public smut. the sending of nudes (well, lingerie pics, to be specific). charlie’s dad outfits™️. cigarette smoking during sex. uhh tennis shoe kink??

(possible) tw’s: semi-public sex. semi-public masturbation. tobacco use (as is canon for Charlie’s character). implied age gap (everyone’s over 21, no more than 10 years).

You’re in the middle of class when Charlie texts you. Your phone buzzes and buzzes on your desk so much so that you have to stop your lecture for a few seconds, worried that something urgent has happened.

Well, something did happen, and it was pretty urgent, but not exactly in the way you’d expected.

-Charlie: I know you’re teaching class right now kid.- -Charlie: But I need you.- -Charlie: Right now.-

A shiver runs down your spine as you read his words on the screen.

-Y/N: I’ve got like 45 more minutes of lecture, baby, I can’t.-

He growls under his breath, cock straining in his tan khakis.

-Charlie: Fuck.- -Charlie: Can you send me a picture? Just need to see your pretty body, kid.-

-Y/N: Say please, Charlie.-

Charlie groans in sexual frustration, hips bucking up in his desk chair.

-Charlie: Jesus fucking christ, fucking brat. PLEASE! PLEASE send me a picture!-

You smirk, picking out one of the lingerie photos you’d taken when you were home alone one night. You’ve been waiting for the right time to whip them out and...well, this seems like the right time.

-Y/N: Attachment 1 image- -Y/N: Knock yourself out. Take a picture when you’re done, and I’ll be over as soon as class is finished.-

His shaky hands scramble to type in his phone passcode and click on your message, a strangled moan leaving his lips at the picture you chose. He’d never seen this one before, never seen this set of lingerie before.  He unbuckles his belt and almost tears the button clean off his khakis as he pulls his cock out, tip already red and drooling with precum. 

Before he starts anything, he quickly runs over to his office door, locking it to keep anyone from walking in. 

His navy cardigan suddenly feels almost suffocating and he sheds it without hesitation, unbuttoning his dress shirt and parting it, revealing his undershirt. 

Wait...you want a picture. Fuck.

An idea comes to him and he whimpers, equal parts aroused and nervous about giving it a try. God he hasn’t touched himself since the divorce proceedings, just needing to blow off some fucking steam, but you’ve reignited his sexual passion, overwhelmingly so, and seemingly even more than before. Maybe even more than ever, if he’s honest with himself.

He feels like a teenager again, both completely smitten with you while at the same time incredibly horny for you.

Charlie stands up on shaky legs and shoves all the paperwork off his desk, clearing a roomy spot right in the center. He bites his lip as he props his phone up on his desktop computer with the picture of you pulled up. Jerking off with just his hand wouldn’t be enough this time around, a small part of him just knew it. He needs to fuck you, fuck something.

He positions his hands around the edge of his desk, leaving his thumbs right at the top, putting them in a wonky sort of ‘o’ shape. He adjusts so that the sharp edge is pressing against his palm before experimentally thrusting his length forward into the hole he’s created with his thumbs, immediately groaning in pleasure. 

“O-Oh, kid.”

He whispers, picking up a slow thrusting rhythm, eyes squeezed shut as he imagines your pussy.

“Such a good little pussy, my good f-fucking girl.” A line of sweat has already begun forming on his forehead as he moves a bit quicker, growling wildly with each thrust. He’s embarrassingly close already. “God, j-jesus fucking christ, gonna make me cum so f-fast, kid. I’m already s-so close, damnit.”

His hips grow desperate, bucking erratically into his grip. The drag of his cock against the faux wood surface feels absolutely incredible, and he barely even hears the desk begin to groan and shift against the floor of his office, too consumed with his impending orgasm.

“Yeah, you ready? Y-You fuckin’ ready for my big fat--fuck!--load in this pretty little--shit!--k-kitty?”

Just hearing him say the word aloud, his nickname for your cunt, has him cumming within moments. His vision blacks out for a second as his hips rut forward, a seemingly continuous stream of warm white cum painting his desktop. 

“Ahhhhh, fuuuuuuuck.”

He has to bury his mouth into his shirt arm to hide the cries that come from him, eyebrows knitted at the center of his forehead. His breathing is heavy as he begins coming down from his high, eyes flitting open and looking down at the mess he’d made. 

His load had gone across the entire width of his desk, and his eyes widened for a moment as his brain somehow comprehended to grab his phone and take a picture of the spread. 

-Charlie: Attachment 1 image- -Charlie: Come straight to my office when you get to the theater.-

You take a quick peek at the message from Charlie as your students pull out their workbooks, jaw dropping when you open the picture full-screen. Holy shit, he really did need it.

-Y/N: You sure you still have enough to fill me up with when I get there?-

-Charlie: I always have enough for you, kid. Gonna have it leaking out of you when you leave.-

You chew your lip, thinking of a quick yet clever response.

-Y/N: Is that a promise?-

He groans under his breath, chuckling lightly with a small smile.

-Charlie: Absolutely. Can’t wait to see you, kid.-

-Y/N: I’m excited too. I’ll be there in 20.-

The twenty minutes it takes for you to finish class and walk over to Exit Ghost feels like some of the longest in Charlie’s life, knee bouncing impatiently and eyes glued to the door. He twirls the Marlboro package in his hand, the clock behind his desk tick-tick-ticking the seconds away. 

Finally, a soft knock comes and, just in case it isn’t you, he stuffs the carton into his pocket. “Come in.”

Your head pokes through the door and you smile at him as you walk in, shutting and locking the door behind you. You immediately notice his outfit, specifically his shoes, which are propped up on his desk. 

He knows that you like how he dresses, especially when he dresses very dad-like. And those sneakers he has, the white ones with the blue lines on them...god, they drive you absolutely crazy and you have no idea why.

Your bags are quickly shoved off your shoulder by the impatient director, pulling you into his body as his lips attack yours fiercely. He notices the way you’re eyeing his outfit, and it’s then that he realizes what shoes he has on, the pair that you like so much. Oh, he could use that.

His grip on the meat of your hips tightens increasingly as the kiss heats up, lips eventually moving down to your neck. 

“Well, hello to you too.”

You say, laughing softly.

“Mmmm,” He hums onto your skin, lips littering kisses and small nibbles everywhere they can reach. “I missed you, kiddo, feels like forever since we’ve had time for something like this.”

Charlie’s large body presses you up against the door, hands eager to rid you of your pants. He quickly yanks them down to your ankles, fingers finding your clothed folds.

“I’ve got a staff meeting at two, baby. We h-have to be kind of quick...sorry.” You breathe, hand wrapping in his hair, tugging at the silky raven locks.

A small and slightly disappointed sigh leaves his lips, but nothing more is said on the matter. His movements do become a bit more rushed, though, digits dipping beneath the fabric to shove up into your entrance. 

Your legs spread instinctively, knees shaking as he finger-fucks you, thick digits scissoring inside you to prepare for his girth. Meanwhile, you try to focus on getting his belt and pants undone, but it’s awfully hard when his fingers feel so damn good.

He pulls away suddenly, sucking the juices off his fingers as his hungry eyes roam your figure. The carton of cigarettes presses against his thigh and he smirks, pulling his digits out with a lewd pop.

Charlie suddenly pulls you off the door, putting himself in your spot instead. He smirks, fingers running under your chin, keeping your head tilted up at him.

“Will you go open the window for me please, beautiful?”

You nod, rushing over to push it open, then come back over to stand in front of him.

“Good girl. Thank you.”

His pointer finger twirls and points to the floor while the other hand grabs the pack and lighter from his pants pocket.

“Now, turn around and bend over right here, hold your ankles or feet, or whatever.”

As you position yourself accordingly, he leans back against the door, legs spread and sneaker-clad feet planted on either side of you, right within your line of vision. He’s almost fully hard again already as he moves to free his cock from its khaki confines, undoing his pants just enough to have it out. 

Again, his cardigan feels suffocatingly hot, so he quickly pulls it off and tosses it away. He rolls the sleeves up on his button-up, a sight that makes your insides clench.

He jams a cigarette between his teeth, jaw clenching when he looks up and realizes that you’re bent over for him, in just the way he asked. Your glistening pussy’s on full display as you wiggle your ass a bit, his cock bobbing and twitching with excitement. 

“Oh kid, you’re dripping.” Charlie whispers, almost to himself, hand kneading one of the globes of your ass.

You chuckle softly. “Hey, baby? As much as I love hearing and feeling you, my legs are getting kinda tired.”

Laughing, Charlie says a quick ‘sorry’ before holding and pulling your hips back, lining himself up with your soaked entrance. He pulls you back some more, impaling you on his cock, head falling back against the door as he does so. 

His hands shakily ignited the small flame on his lighter, bringing it up until the tip of the cigarette turned orange before flipping the cap back on and shoving it back in his pocket. He takes a long drag, groaning on the exhale. 

He keeps one hand on your hip while the other spreads out on your lower back, guiding you back and forth over his shaft slowly, gently.

“Thaaat’s it, just like this, kid.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the impossibly deep angle created with this new position has it feeling like he’s reaching into your guts. Plus, with the natural up-curve of his cock, he’s brushing all the right spots inside you.

“C-Charlie…”

The familiar and comforting scent of Charlie’s cigarettes fills your nostrils, a haze of smoke surrounds your joined bodies. He continues to move you up and down on his length, buttocks clenching as his hips naturally rock forward, burying himself to the hilt each time you sink down.

“God...jesus christ...love this little pussy of yours, kid.” He breathes through his gritted teeth. “Taking me so nicely, always wrapped around me so goddamn tight.”

You quickly begin moving yourself up and down his stiff rod, bouncing as fast as you can manage. The sweet burn in your thighs only grows more prominent with each passing second, but you don’t care, too consumed in pleasure.

“Mmmmmyyyeah, baby, all for you.”

His hand comes down on your ass, giving it a firm smack before taking another quick drag, exhaling through his nose.

“That’s f-fucking right, all mine. You love being a little slut for this cock, huh? I know you do, you love when I bring you in my office and fuck your pretty cunt in the middle of the goddamn work day, can’t even wait until I get home, this f-filthy slut cunt needs to be split open and stuffed nice and full. Can’t go one fucking day without my cum fucked in you, always needs to be filled up and leaking, hm?”

Charlie was never able to do stuff like this or talk to Nicole like this. She was pretty vanilla when it came to sex, just like to be fucked quietly in bed. He called her a ‘slut’ once and she almost cried, lecturing him for half an hour afterwards on how disrespectful it was.

But now, he gets to explore everything he hasn’t gotten the chance to with you. You love it all, love the way he talks filth in your ear, calls you naughty names. You love getting fucked in all sorts of places, which at first made him a little nervous, cheeks and the tips of his ears bright red when you asked him to fuck you in your classroom or finger you under your dress on the subway. But, after almost a year and a half together, you can safely say that he’s a full-on exhibitionist deviant.

Your walls clamp down around him, eyes still squeezed shut as you feel his hips begin to thrust forward. Soon, he holds you almost completely still, moving his hips as fast as he can. His cigarette is almost ashes at this point, and he kicks himself for not thinking of a good disposal plan beforehand.

“Oh baby, oh baby...f-fuck!” You whine, hips squirming and gyrating as your impending orgasm grows closer. “Y-Yeah, I love it, love everything you do to me. Wanna take every s-single fucking drop of your cum, Charlie, want it inside me, want it dripping down my thighs.”

He almost loses his mind over your comments, drilling into you at an impossibly hard and fast rate, the lewd slapping squelching sound of your hips colliding overwhelmingly prominent in the space around you. 

“You’ll go back to work with so much cum shoved into you, make you sit through your stupid fucking meeting with my cum dripping out of you. B-Better hope no one notices, huh? Better hope your boss doesn’t find out what a good little cockslut you are, how much you love having a pussy-full of your boyfriends f-fucking cum.”

A few muted cries leave your lips as he pounds you harder, his own words spurring him on. He can feel your walls pulsing around him, a sure-fire sign that you’re about to cum. 

“C-Charlie! Charlie, I...I’m close.”

“K-Know you are, kid, I know you are. You’re doing so f-fucking well for me, Y/N, squeezing my big cock like a fuckin champ.” Charlie growls, quickly tossing his spent cigarette in a coffee mug on a nearby table. “And now you’re gonna rub your little clit and cum for me like I know you want to. C’mon, kid, wanna feel you come undone around me.”

You quickly begin rubbing your clit and, despite the odd angle, it brings you right up to the edge. You just need something, just a little something, to push you over the edge. Your eyes flutter open to look up at him, but then, you’re met with the sight of his sneakers.

“Goddamnit!” You’re cumming almost instantly, flooding his shaft with your release. “Yes! Oh god, yeah, c-cumming for you baby!”

His hips keep pumping, taking you right through your climax before abruptly coming to a halt when they’re buried as deep inside you as they can possibly be. His eyes go wide before squeezing shut, a guttural groan ripping through his chest as he pumps and shoves his thick creamy load into you.

“T-Take it, f-filthy whore!” He groans, rutting his hips the whole way through, making sure every drop is put inside you.

Once he’s finished, having ridden out his high to its fullest, he tucks himself back into his pants before helping you stand back up. He holds you close, looking down at you with a bright, genuine smile. 

“You’re amazing, incredible...just so perfect.” He kisses all over your face before landing on your lips.

Your cheeks heat up at his compliments, hands weaving through his hair as the kiss deepens. 

Suddenly, someone knocks on your office door, jiggling the doorknob.

“Charlie?”

His eyes fly open and he pulls away. Shit.

“Yeah, I’m h-here, just give me a minute!”

You quickly pull your pants up and jump under his desk to hide just as he opens the door, running a hand through his hair. 

He talks to the person on the other side of the door in a rushed voice, answering their multitude of questions before quickly shutting the door, sighing as you crawl out from under the desk. 

“At least we both got to cum, unlike last time.” You walk up and put your hands on his pecs, rubbing them over the fabric. “I gotta get going though, baby. I wanna grab lunch from the deli before my staff meeting.”

Charlie nods, dipping his head down to kiss you one last time, nuzzling his large nose against yours. 

“Come over tonight, though? Nicole’s in town and she’s got Henry, so we’ll have the house to ourselves. I feel like we haven’t spent any quality time together lately.”

Nodding, you smile. “I would love to come over. I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Great.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you later, kid. Have a good meeting.”

You laugh as you grab your bag and head out, turning back to wave and flash him a soft smile.

“See you tonight.”

[crispyjenkins]

Can we get a fic where Jaster somehow gets sent to the future or something and him reacting to the clones? (Being pissed off that his ad would do something like this to these poor kids/ just reacting to them?)

(this one was so. fecking. hard. to write, i’ve been struggling with it for weeks, but i’m glad i did, because this is by far the best version i made of it. it’s interesting in how much my opinion of jango’s decision to be the template has changed since i first got this ask, and i was definitely coming at it with this post in mind for their characterisations here.

i love hondo. so you get hondo knowing jaster from pre-civil war days, and i don’t care if canon disagrees: hondo ohnaka has been terroising house mereel for three generations.

also i’ve already had a few people donate to my ko-fi and i’m completely floored by your kindness and generosity, and i sat down with this fill knowing i wanted to get it out as soon as possible. i sincerely love you all, i hope you’re all healthy and being as safe as possible.)

Alt+R to Quick Reblog on Desktop, Hold the Reblog Symbol to Quick Reblog on Mobile

  “Oh, Jango? We keep him here.” —Lama Su, AotC

-

  By some will of the Ka’ra, it’s Boba that finds him.

  The possibility of dying in his ad’s arms hadn’t exactly crossed Jaster’s mind until it happened, like a nightmare he had never even had. For the first time since the Fett farm burned, Jaster cursed the Ka’ra, and he curses them again when he wakes up not marching* to the stars, but standing knee-deep in the snows of Galidraan

  And the Ka’ra make sure he knows it’s Galidraan though he had never been there, just as he somehow knows Jango is long-since dead. That he is a dislocated bone in the universe, snapped out of time and place and thrown into a future where Jango’s face stares at him from a body that is not his.

  “Oh,” the teen with Jango’s nose says, the snow coming all the way up to their thighs, and they don't look dressed nearly warm enough for this biome. “Did Hondo send you?”

  Jaster blinks at them. “Did...? No, ad’ika, I have not spoken to Hondo in many years.” Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised Hondo is even still alive, Maker knows Jaster’s tried to kill him enough times himself, but if the number of years since his death on Korda Six is as many as he thinks it is, surely someone would have shot him by now.

  The teen doesn’t wear beskar’gam —it’s unlikely they’re even old enough to— but the style of the armor they do wear cannot be inspired by anything else, just reminiscent enough of evaar’gam that Jaster can’t help comparing every little detail about them with the faded image of Jango in his mind.

  “Then who the kriff are you?” They eye Jaster warily, left hand twitching towards the vibroblade at their hip.

  Promising to strangle every one of the Ka’ra when he can finally march away, and throwing the last of his caution down to the snow between them, Jaster simply says, “Jaster Mereel.”

  Impossibly, though maybe not entirely, not-Jango doesn’t laugh at him, or call him crazy, or even try to shoot him with the rifle slung over their shoulder. No, they straighten to their full height, and—

  And swear so colorfully in Huttese that Jaster knows this hell-child has absolutely been raised by Hondo Ohnaka.

-

  Boba takes him to the ruins of Kamino first, where the kriffing Sith Empire has destroyed another one of his people’s homes. 

  The growth labs were all blown into the ocean by imperial ilk soon after the formation of the empire, but the barracks and some of the training rooms still stand above the waves. In the ship he says belonged to Jango, Boba steers them to a dilapidated landing pad, controlling the Slave I (Maker, had Jaster really left Jango to that fate?) far too easily through the rubble for this to be his first time to return, and Jaster tries not to think about what that means.

  Walking the dark, grimy white halls, seeing the narrow bunks and bare req rooms, he then tries not to think about a child being raised in such a place, about hundreds of thousands of children being raised in such a place. How had Jango... chosen this for them?

  “I only have his stories,” Boba tells him quietly, when he shows Jaster the tiny apartment the Kaminoans had given them to “keep Jango close”. It’s bigger than most captain’s cabins, to be sure, but it is just as plain and white as the rest of the facility. “But he couldn’t even get one hundred Mandalorians to come and train the... clones.” He shuffles his feet uncomfortably as Jaster looks into the cupboard-sized kitchen and tries not to break down at the package of Mandalorian chiles rotted away on the counter. “Everyone else was New Mandalorian or Death Watch.”

  “And the rest... they fell at the Battle of Galidraan?”

“Buir always called it a massacre,” he looks away. “Only a handful of the Cuy’val Dar even considered themselves True Mandalorians, buir was there when the Jedi killed the rest.”

  Jaster inhales deeply, takes a few moments to steady himself, and is sickeningly, horrifyingly relieved. By the Maker, but knowing Jango had had no one left before his Kamino contract, that not even Skirata followed the codex anymore, that Jango had only taken the job after forcing Tyranus to give him an unaltered clone, makes Jaster guilty for having doubted his foundling. It doesn’t excuse anything, of course, but knowing Jango had done it all for aliit, well, it does make it easier to swallow.

  Boba leads him back out of the apartment, he had already stripped it of anything important years ago, and they don’t stick around after reboarding the Slave I. Only after they’re out of atmosphere with hyperspace coordinates for Tatooine in the astronav system does Boba join Jaster in the tiny galley with a bottle of tihaar that Jaster should probably reprimand him for, but won’t.

  “He tried to pretend he didn’t care, about the others,” Boba says and doesn’t even bother to find them glasses, “I think some days he even believed it.”

  “He always was stubborn as a rancor.”

  Boba takes a long pull from the bottle before passing it across the table. “Tyranus scared the shit out of me back then, he was too... put together, too fancy. Buir didn’t like him, I don’t know why he even did the tryout for him, the pay wasn’t even that great?”

  Rubbing his left eye until he sees stars, Jaster stares down into the bottle until he can come up with a way to explain core Mandalorian beliefs to a child that had barely a decade of living as one before that, too, had been taken from him. “If Jang’ika took that job intending to come out on the other side, I’ll kiss whatever Vizsla is left.”

  Boba’s mouth twists and he kicks his heels against the floor, not waiting for Jaster to hand it to him to grab the tihaar back. “Buir was an idiot,” he says, like the solve to a simple math problem, and Jaster can’t but agree.

  He sighs. “Unfortunately, he probably got that from somewhere.”

  “I mean, at least Montross didn’t live long enough to end up as the template? Kriffing fuck, can you imagine if the Jedi had had to work with that shabuir’s clones?”

  “Maybe the war would have ended sooner,” he muses and accepts the bottle, “surely this Emperor would have tired of his face much sooner than Jango’s.”

  “Or the Coruscant Guard would have shivved Palpatine in his sleep and tried to take over the Republic; what’s one betrayal of your leader to another?”

  “Then I’d like to think Jango would put him, them, in their place for a third time.”

  Snorting, Boba pushes to his feet to, presumably, check on the autopilot. “If buir would have even let it get that far, then I’ll kiss Vizsla.”

-

  “Old friend!” Hondo shouts as soon as he sees them, and Jaster winces, nursing his first hangover since his twenties.

  “Ohnaka,” he returns, and pretends he doesn’t notice the subtle way Boba brightens as Hondo comes to clap them both on the shoulders.

  The old pirate just chuckles and starts to steer them both back across the hangar bay to his latest junk ship. “I heard you died, Mand’alor,” he says casually, like the title isn’t cursed to the ka’ra and back, like it hadn’t been three decades since anyone had dared call someone from his house such a thing so sincerely.

  “I did.”

  “I found him on Galidraan,” Boba offers. “Is that why you told me to go?”

  Hondo scoffs, and Jaster would say he was flustered if he didn’t know him better. “No, I told you to go because Aurra had a job for you, that you seem to have forgotten about in your haste to bring my long lost best friend back to me.”

  Boba scowls. “Aurra wasn’t at the meeting place, laandur, it was a kriffing mynock chase and you know it.”

  Jaster side eyes his old “friend”, and wonders again about his preternatural... luck in all things pirate-related, despite being a boisterous mess of a man most of the time. If this Aurra had even been on the planet when Boba got there, Jaster will kiss Vizsla twice. 

-

Mando’a: Ka'ra — an ancient Mandalorian story, ruling council of fallen kings, “stars” ad — “child”, gender neutral 'ika — diminutive suffix, similar to the suffix “ita/o” in Spanish. generally used only by close family and friends beskar'gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy evaar'gam — lit. “youth armour”, fan name for the interim armour/garb Mandalorians would have worn before building their kit of beskar’gam buir — “parent”, gender neutral  Cuy'val Dar — “Those who no longer exist”, group of 75 Mando’ade and 25 others put together by Jango to train the clones aliit — “clan”, “family” tihaar — Mandalorian strong clear spirit made from fruit shabuir —  an extreme insult, mostly accepted in fandom to be an insult of an individual’s ability to parent (from buir), which is an intrinsic part of Mandalorian psyche and identity  laandur — used here as “weak”, “pathetic”, but is usually used as “delicate”, “fragile”

*in reference to the Mando’a word for the dead/deceased “taab'echaaj'la”, or “marched far away”, best explained in the Mando’a tribute to dead comrades, “not gone, merely marching far away”. 

[rosy-cheekx]

Alone Again, Naturally

Three times Martin should have called for help.

(I twisted my ankle on Sunday and was bummed bc I missed my partner so…this happened…oops.)

-

1.

Martin’s phone was missing, though he was pretty sure he knew where it was. That thing, that wormy, writhing mass of a woman had it. Destroyed it. His only chance of rescue from this nightmare. Replaying the image of dropping the phone, abandoning it as he ran, would do him no good. His coworkers hadn’t noticed he was missing, or if they had noticed, they hadn’t stopped by. And they shouldn't, of course, it would only put them in danger. But still, it stung a bit, to know that he’d been gone for what, three days now? and no one cared.

He could become a statement from this, Martin realized, his death narrated in Jon’s smooth, clipped voice, and then they would finally learn what happened to that large, oafish researcher who was transferred to the archives with them and disappeared overnight.

Martin sighed through his nose noisily, as if he could expel the dark thoughts with the sound. “Christ, Blackwood. Getting awful morbid there.” Talking to himself had become a staple of his isolation. For one, it drowned out the ever-present knocking on the door and the squelching rustle of the worms. He honestly wasn’t sure whether the sounds were still real or if they had become such a constant that his brain just filled them in anyways.

His voice was the only other sound available to him with his computer not working and his phone gone. His clock radio had played static on every channel, and he had been grateful for the white noise at first. But the longer Martin left the radio on, the sound began to morph from the hissing of dead air to a choir, indecipherable and haunting. There were no words and yet he could understand the message: come home to us. We need you, we miss you, let us show you how much we love you. With us, you’ll never feel lonely again, we promise. Martin had come to, hand on the doorknob to his flat, radio in hand. After that, he had removed all the batteries from anything that could make noise. Since then, he could only trust his own voice; everything else was a trap.

The can opener, unfortunately, had been electric too. He had been so proud of his purchase, a real attempt at adult cooking. (He never seemed to use the manual ones and could never get the grip right.) With the power out, assumedly caused by Prentiss, he had to get creative when it came to “making dinner.” For Martin, this meant sawing open a tin can with a serrated knife, eating it with a fork, and praying no metal shavings were lurking in each mouthful. Tonight’s feast: another can of tinned green beans and the last can of pineapple. He didn’t even like green beans, why had he ever bought these?

Martin gritted himself against the awful sound of metal on metal as he cut into a tin of beans, hissing sharply through his teeth and letting his mind wander. Maybe he could strain the beans? Let them dry? It would probably be better than the wet and soggy mush he was bound to find. Maybe he could put some crackers on them for a crunch? Pretend it’s a bad soup? As he was finishing his indelicate surgery, Martin tipped the can into the sink a little, hoping to strain the bean juice and improve the meal even a little. As he removed the last of the lid, he saw it.

There, in the sink, wiggling its way out of the drain. Another worm. Martin shrieked and jumped back, dropping the can in the sink with a clatter. He grabbed a roll of paper towels and began to stuff them down the sink, plugging up the drain as best he could. For extra measure, he plugged the faucet as well, suddenly terrified of accidentally swallowing one in a glass of water. Once the adrenaline rush had passed, Martin felt it: a stinging in his palm. They must have jumped at him, must have bitten him. It would be over soon, he knew it. He would be like Prentiss, a mass of tiny bodies. He braced himself to feel something, but nothing changed. Martin frowned, chewing on his lip in confusion, and hazarded a glance down to his hand. There was no worm in his palm, nothing wriggling and biting deep into his muscle, just a slice along the flesh of his thumb, dripping blood from where he must have cut himself on the tin can.

Sheepishly, Martin rolled his eyes at his defeatism. Did it hurt like hell? Yes. But he wasn’t going to become a worm monster. Not today. Grabbing a few more sheets of paper towel, Martin hissed in pain as he pressed them to his wound, making his way shakily to the paltry first-aid kit he kept in his bathroom. He was clumsy in his wound care, only able to use one hand to open the kit and the individually wrapped plasters, while the other pooled blood in his palm uselessly. The antiseptic had stung like hell and the plaster was off-center, but eventually, the job was done. Martin had managed.

“See?” He asked himself softly. “All better. We didn’t want the green beans anyways.” Martin was alone, but he would be fine. He could take care of himself.

——

2.

Martin’s phone had become less and less useful since his time in the Archives. Sasha and Tim had been distant in the end, their group texts dwindling into occasional messages regarding whether not someone had contacted so-and-so regarding their statement. He and Jon had called and texted quite a bit, before the Unknowing, when Jon had been in China, America, and wherever else Gertrude’s breadcrumbs had led him. But since the explosion, their messages lay at a standstill, a “good luck! come home safe :)” still waiting to be sent to “Jonathan Sims--Boss.” He used to call his mother every week, but the outgoing calls had dwindled as she returned less and less of them, until he received an apologetic voicemail from Steady Waters Care Home a few months ago.

Now, the only messages he received were his work emails and an occasional text from Peter with a request or two regarding The Magnus Institute. Not even spam calls reached him anymore. That was all fine by Martin. He was busy running the institute; he didn’t have time for social calls, even if he wanted any, which he didn’t. Martin had taken to leaving his phone in his work office, knowing he wouldn’t need it outside the building anyways. It was becoming something like a desktop mouse to him in its versatility.

It was a Thursday, and it was late--Martin’s watch read 11:09. Thursdays were Martin’s days to deliver paperwork to the archives. He could only ever do it at night when he was sure Jon had either gone home (or was asleep at his desk at the very least). Peter Lukas had been working Martin to the bone with all the paperwork he would hand off with a wave of his hand and an “I’ll be back next week Martin. Please don’t call me,” and this week’s stack of statement requests, financial approvals, and quarterly reviews would fall to Martin instead. Who knew running a front for feeding an all-seeing eldritch deity would require so many business expenses?

Martin. Martin knew. He had reviewed and approved each and every one.

It was the week after Halloween, so the list of those eager to give a statement was longer than usual. Hellweek, Tim used to call it, a grin on his face as Jon would frown and shake his head. The stack of folders Martin carried in his arms eclipsed his eyesight as he carefully made his way down the hall, the Lonely silencing his footsteps and the shuffle of his clothing. The elevator was broken this week, thanks to a visit from one of the Fairchilds. Martin clumsily opened the door to the stairwell, turning to the side slightly to see the steps that descended into the basement he knew so well. Cautiously, he began his way down the stairs, arms clutching the stack of paperwork and binders tight to his chest. The basement was eerily silent; even Martin’s muted steps echoed in his ears.

The door to the Archives creaked slightly, and Martin realized his mistake: he hadn’t propped the door. The thin streak of light that painted his way down the steps thinned and faded in time with the slow squeak of the door. The click of the latch sealed his fate: Martin was in the dark. He didn’t mind the dark, in principle, though his new awareness of the Fears heightened his concern considerably. He stepped down slowly, feeling for the steps with his foot as he went.

Halfway down the stairs, Martin heard a soft flutter as a few papers shifted in his stack. He hoisted the pile and tried to readjust it as he stepped once more. The combination of the changes in the balance of the papers and his weight combined were too much for his brain to process at once and he overcompensated on his step, putting his weight down a little too early. Martin felt the rush of adrenaline as he tried to catch himself, hands clutching uselessly at the paperwork in his hands as if it could save him and he felt himself tumble to the ground. Falling sideways, he hit his shoulder hard on the steps, momentum carrying him down the remaining steps to the floor. The loose papers not held in binders and folders scattered in what Martin was sure was every direction.

Martin was frozen on the floor, pain pulsing through his shoulder. He sat up tentatively, patting himself down as he set down what remained of his stack of folders. He wasn’t bleeding, but his ears were ringing and his arm hurt like hell. Listening carefully for the sound of anyone reacting to his presence, he rotated his shoulders carefully, wincing as throbbing radiated up his arm. He must have dislocated it. Patting his legs down, Martin found his phone in his pocket. He must have forgotten to put it on the charger. He...he could call someone, should call someone. His shoulder was dislocated.

He could call Jon.

He pulled up his text messages, the cursor blinking back at him, blinding in the dark. Jon was surely awake, he knew that man’s sleep schedule was worse than his.

good luck! come home safe :)

safe :)

safe.

“Shit.”

He couldn’t call Jon. It would undo everything he and Peter were trying to build up. It was all for Jon anyways, to keep him safe, to keep them all safe. No. He had to do this alone. It was best that way.

Martin sat himself up carefully. He had taken enough first aid courses (rather, he had watched them for free on the internet) to know how to set it back in place and he knew it would not be pleasant. He drew his right knee up, and clumsily unknotted his tie, using it to secure his arm to his knee. Martin closed his eyes tight and leaned away from his knee, rotating his shoulder as he stretched away, wincing in anticipation until he felt the wet pop of his arm slotting back into place. Sparks shot through his vision, his only grounding point in the dark, and he huffed out a cross between a moan and a curse.

He carefully made a fist with his re-set hand, tensing the muscles in his arm. Determining it to be good enough, Martin felt his way to his feet and grabbed the wall to steady himself. He knew there was a light switch somewhere--ah.

The light clicked on and he winced at the sudden change, letting his eyes adjust behind the safety of his lashes. When he opened his eyes again, he surveyed the mess of his paperwork, gathering it methodically. It took him another half hour, back against Tim’s old desk, to resort his files before setting them in the file basket he had installed on the door to the Archivist’s office, the rest going on the desk of Jon himself. He would see them all in the morning. At least Jon was home, resting.

When Martin emerged from the Archives, he glanced down at his watch, wondering if it was too late to hail a cab. He frowned at his watch; the face was cracked, the hands stuck at 11:11. He must have cracked it in his fall. “Make a wish,” Martin mumbled to himself, rolling his eyes. He was pretty sure his wishes were out of reach, hopeless. As long as he would be safe after all this, Martin could sacrifice a few wishes.

——

3.

Martin was on a walk. He had been doing that a lot, since his and Jon’s escape to Scotland. There was something comforting about the long stretches of rolling hills and rocky cliffsides, utterly devoid of menacing fear entities or bosses hellbent on destroying the world. Jon would come with him sometimes, especially in the early days when leaving each other’s presence was challenging to say the least, but Martin sometimes just needed the space. He loved Jon, he knew he did, and Jon did too, but sometimes the presence of another would build up and stifle him, an unbearable heat radiating off of Jon until Martin had to just go for a bit.

It was raining today, a bassy rhythm beating down on Martin’s umbrella as he walked a familiar cliffside path. He could see a rocky beach below him, waves made of roiling ink, more black than blue. The rain was comforting to him, distinguishing this ocean spread before him from the ocean of the Lonely and drowning out any thoughts that passed through Martin’s head. He stepped around a patch especially muddy gravel, glancing down and seeing a ghost of a reflection staring back at him.

Martin had been in a cold place today, withdrawn from the rest of the world. He had felt the fog blossoming over his mind and had known he needed to go for a bit, center himself, remind himself he was real. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither would his sense of self again, though he was making progress. Jon understood that sentiment, perhaps better than anyone else in the world, and had kissed him softly at the doorway, squeezing his hand in an unspoken promise. Martin tensed his own hand in a fist, still feeling the heat of Jon’s calloused palm under his, reveling in the idea that someone loved him the way Jon did, that someone loved him the way Jon did and that Martin loved Jon back. Martin felt his body solidifying under the rain, felt the wind buffet against him rather than pass through him.

Martin was thinking about going home when it happened.

Home, or Daisy’s safehouse, was a humble affair: reinforced windows, minimalist, a few guns hidden in the floorboards, lots of fresh fruits and vegetables from the village down the hill. It had been easy to reassign this place in Martin’s mind as home. He hadn’t felt at home since...well, definitely not since Prentiss. Maybe not before either.

The rain was letting up, and the brolly was forgotten in favor of letting the rain drop down into his hair, sopping his curls and plastering them to his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so content to be in the rain. Things weren’t good, but they were the best they’d been in a while.

The next thing Martin knew he was on the ground, ankle twisted and both shins scraped, blood and dirt mingling on his legs. He tried to stand up and cried out as his ankle immediately gave way, the hope of putting weight on it dashed on the rocks of the beach far below him.

Martin Blackwood crawled to a tree, leaning his back against it, not minding the dirt that was sure to collect on his back and rump. He winced and massaged his ankle, already feeling it begin to swell under his fingertips. With his free hand, a silver scar shining between his forefinger and thumb, he reached for his phone from his jacket pocket, hands shaking as he clumsily dialed the only number in his list of favorites.

“Martin?” Jon’s voice was warm through the tinny speakers. “I hope you’re well.” It was carefully not a question, though Martin caught the notes of careful concern.

“Tch-” Martin sucked air through his teeth. “I fell, Jon. I twisted my ankle, I think? Can’t-ah-can’t walk.”

“Oh. Martin, dear,” Jon’s voice was softer, and Martin could practically see his love’s fingers, itching to do, to fix. “Do you need me to—I can come get you, if you like. I haven’t…I haven't looked. But I can, if you want me to.”

Martin smiled despite himself, hearing Jon’s cautious phrasing. “Please, yes. I’m pretty sure I’m near a picnic park, if you want to drive there and get me? Not sure this is a drivable trail.”

“Did you pass anyone?”

“…no?”

A pause. Martin heard static crackling through the phone. “No one will be there. I Know where you are, Martin. I’ll be there soon.”

Ten minutes and enough ice packs to ease the pain of a full rugby team later, Martin was laying in the back of Jon’s small car, heat blasting on him to dry his now-soaked clothing. There were perks to having an all-knowing partner, it turned out.

Later that evening, Martin was tucked into the couch, his head pleasantly nestled in cushions and his feet in Jon’s lap, who was carefully massaging his feet and ankles, probing for any long-term injuries with his Eyes. A mug of tea grasped between his hands, Martin sighed softly and felt warmth flood his face. He hadn’t been alone this time. He wouldn’t be alone ever again.

[coloredgirlfan-fiction01]

The warm morning sunshine was the first thing you felt as you woke from your sleep. The bright light stung your rested eyes but with a few blinks it was manageable.

Looking over at your bedside table, the digital clock read seven sixteen. You had wanted to set the alarm to wake up earlier, but Michael always complained that the sound it made was annoying and gave him headaches.

So you had to learn to wake up early so Michael could get his beauty sleep, not that he really needed it.

Said blonde was still fast asleep on his back, arms on each side of his head and soft pink lips slightly parted as he took shallow breaths. His long eyelashes fluttering ever so gently on his cheeks as he dreamed, something good you hoped.

He was dressed in the red silk pajama suit you picked out for him last night, the first three buttons of the top undone which exposed the smooth skin of his chest.

He was so beautiful, unlike most men he was soft and loved to be taken cared of. There was nothing anyone could say or do that could make you any less in love with him, and he loved you just as much.

You protected him and never judged him for the way he was like those in his past had. They were so focused on what he was and what he was destined to do, that they never stopped to ask him who he really was outside of his father's dark shadow.

As you watched him sleep a fond smile crept across your lips, you leaned over the blonde and gently kissed the top of his exposed chest.

"Michael, it's time to wake up." You whispered placing another kiss just above the previous one.

You felt him stir and let out a soft groan as you began to kiss his neck.

"Five more minutes." You chuckled at how childish his whine was.

"Come on puppy, it's time to get up." You watched as his eyes fluttered open, ocean eyes seemed to almost glow as the sunlight hit them.

"Morning.." He greeted with a smile. You reached out you brush a few strands away from his face, enjoying the smoothness of his skin and the happiness in his eyes.

"Did you sleep well?"

"I dreamt about you. We were at the bottom of a clear blue ocean. I was lying on your lap, you were humming a song and running your fingers through my hair as I fell asleep. It was beautiful, peaceful."

He always had such strange dreams. Sometimes he had nightmares that were so vivid even you got chills whenever he'd talk about them, but you always loved the ones he got that made him smile in the morning.

"Your too cute for your own good sometimes you know that?" You kissed him and got out of bed to stretch your arms above your head to rid your body of any excess tiredness.

The grey T-shirt you wore to bed lifted as you did, exposing your upper thighs and ass which Michael gawked when he sat up. He couldn't help but think how sexy you looked wearing his shirt and nothing else.

Your skin always had a sort of glow when the sun washed over you. Every curve, your hips, your breasts, your long legs, your natural hair that framed your face made you look like a goddess in his eyes.

He'd never thought that after everything that went went in his life, all the blood and bad choices that he would find redemption and safety in the shape of you.

You were the first person to treat him like an actual human being with feelings and emotions instead of just the antichrist that was destined to destroy the world and remake it in his father's image. That part of him died the moment he gave himself to you.

"Are you going to stare at me all day, or are you gonna' get up and get ready pup?" Blush dusted his cheeks and he averted his eyes to stop from staring. He got out of bed and helped fixed the bedding before joining you in the shower.

After that you guided him downstairs to the kitchen and began to make a healthy breakfast for the both of you, while Michael sat at the counter and watched you.

French toast, eggs, sausages and a pot of freshly made lemongrass tea was on the menu and you took pride in the fact that you only took twenty minutes to make everything.

"So what do you want to do today pup?" You asked serving him his share. Since you didn't have to go into work on Saturdays, you always let Michael choose how you'd spend the day together. You owned your own business and it took up alot of your time, so you dedicated a day just for Michael since he hardly gets to have you for himself.

"I was thinking we could go to the park today, the weather's nice maybe we can have a picnic?"

"That sound like a g-" The loud ringing of your cellphone cut off the conversation and drew you away from the kitchen counter to retrieve your phone from upstairs.

Apparently one of your employees made an error at work and they needed your help to fix it before it caused problems for the software. You inquired about the error and thanked the heavens it wasn't something that you needed to leave home for.

"Michael I'm going to be in my office for a few minutes, finish your breakfast and watch some TV until I'm done OK?" You called out and got an 'alright' as his answer.

About an hour has passed and Michael was getting bored of watching TV. They were showing some low budget show about vampires and he was in no mood to sit through it.

What was taking you so long? You had said a few minutes and it's been an entire hour and you haven't left your home office.

He hardly gets to spend any quality quality time with you and now your work was getting in the way of his day. He wasn't happy.

Deciding he's waited enough, Michael clicked off the TV and marched up the stairs to the see what was taking you so long. He decided not to knock and just barged in ready to demand your attention but stopped himself as he saw you typing furiously on your laptop and talking sternly at whoever was on the phone.

"There is absolutely nothing you can give me as an excuse right now, this could completely crash the servers and we can loose Gigabytes of data because of this."

You always looked so fierce when you were pissed off about something. Your usually calm and collected demeanor was replaced by one of dominance and authority that always made his knees weak. Just the sound of you scolding your employee made him hard and made him want your attention even more.

He closed the door behind him and walks over to you, fully determined to get what he wanted despite knowing he wasn't allowed to disturb you during work.

"Y/n are you almost done, you promised that we'd spend time together today." He whined kneeling beside your chair. His big blue eyes looked up at you but you didn't even give his a side glance.

"Today is my day with you they get you every other day, can't you handle this later?" You shot him a serious glare that shut him up but it didn't deter him from his mission. Being ignored was one thing, but you brushing him off for your work on his day was the last straw.

You didn't question him when he crawled on the floor to get under your desk. You didn't even question when he spread your legs apart to make room for himself in the tight space.

What did get your attention was the sharp tug of your panties that made them snap when he tugged them with his finger. The pull was so strong it pulled you along with it.

He could be such a brat when he couldn't get what he wanted. You didn't mind it but your work couldn't wait.

You could tell he was getting impatient as you hardly reacted to his desperate acts for attention. The way his teeth nipped at your inner thighs and the wetness his tongue left in it's wake as he licked your folds with vigor.

You'd be lying if you weren't getting turned on by his efforts.

If there's one thing that Michael excelled at was pleasing you to the best of his abilities.

It took all of your will power not to moan into your phone as his tongue slipped into you, his hands wrapped around your hips to pull your lower half flush against his mouth.

"You do know there will be consequences for this, don't you?" You said into the phone while grabbing a fist full of Michael's hair, making sure that he knew she was talking to him too.

Absolute chills ripped through you as he moaned loudly against your sex. His hot breath against your dripping sex was euphoric and you could help but grind your hips into him to get more.

"Listen to me, today is my day off and I have business at the moment to take care of. I'll deal with you and your mistake tomorrow." You ended the call and threw the phone on the desktop.

You pulled away from Michael and yanked him by his hair to get out of the tight space.

"You can be a real brat sometimes you know that?"

"You were gone for so long, and I-"

"You know the rules about coming in here don't you?"

"I know. I- I'm sorry."

You sighed and gestured to him to get out from under the table and to lay down on the floor. You followed after him and took the position of straddling his hips.

He looked so adorable beneath you, eyes full of anticipation for whatever you were going to do to him at that moment, you almost felt sorry for him.

"How do you think you should be punished puppy?"

Usually you would spank him or put him on time out for disobeying you, but he was right. Today was his day and you broke your promise.

"How about I do something we'll both enjoy, but at the same time you get your punishment. And if you're good we'll get ready to go on that picnic right after, sound fair?" You asked, which he immediately agreed to.

You slowly began to ride on top of Michael, his semi erection perfectly positioned against your sex making the friction delicious between the two of you.

The hairs on your neck stood up as a wave of chills ran across your skin when Michael let out a desperate moan as you felt him grow harder under you. His brilliant blue eyes glazed over in desperation and pleasure that motivated you to move faster.

"Y/n, I.. I want more..~" He panted, gripping your waist and meeting your humping with vigor.

"I know you do puppy, but this is all you're gonna get."

[ieromoon]

gif tutorial

here is a very long tutorial showing you how i made this gif:

i use photoshop cs5 and KMPlayer to make my gifs. KMPlayer you can download here and you can probably find a photoshop download if you do a bit of completely 100% legal searching...

this is not the only way to make gifs, there are probably much much easier ways to do it but this is the method i learned like 5 years ago. it may seem long-winded at first but with practice it becomes much easier and quicker

i apologise in advance if this is hard to follow, and also please remember to save after like every single step. photoshop has a habit of randomly not responding.

anyway, without further ado......

so first of all you need to create a new folder somewhere (i just put mine on the desktop so it’s easily accessible) and name it something like ‘caps’ or ‘screencaps’

then make sure you’ve downloaded the video you want to make the gif from

open the video in KMPlayer

press ctrl+g to open the frame extraction window which looks like this:

first change your extraction location to the folder you just created (caps/screencaps/whatever you called it) and then choose your settings.

these are the settings i use when i take screencaps. the only thing i ever tend to change is the number of frames to extract. i like my gifs to be smooooooth so mostly i extract every frame, however changing it to every 2 frames looks just as good and your gif will have more ‘action’ in it (because you’re extracting from a longer period of the video - if that makes sense?? lol)

once you’ve found the scene you want to gif, make sure the frame extraction window is open (ctrl+g) and then press ‘start’ when you want to start capping and then ‘stop’ when it’s over. (when you press ‘start’ the frame extraction screen might disappear. it’s still taking screencaps, just press ctrl+g to open it again to press ‘stop’)

now your screencaps are done you can close KMPlayer and open photoshop.

first, go to file>scripts>load multiple DICOM files

when this window appears find your caps/screencaps folder, select it and press ok

this is what photoshop looks like after pressing ok. you need to go to the bottom right corner of the timeline and press the button with 3 squares on it (convert to frame animation):

then after it’s changed, press this thing:

and then choose ‘make frames from layers’:

now it should look like this:

now delete any frames you don’t want/need by selecting them in the frame animation timeline thing at the bottom and dragging them over to the trash bin:

then go to this bitch again:

and click on ‘select all frames’. they should all be highlighted. click one of the little black arrows on any frame and choose ‘other’:

and choose what you want your time delay to be. i tend to go for 0.05s

now when you press the little play button in the bottom left it should move. wow, we’re doing it!!

if you want the gif to loop click the arrow next to ‘once’ and change it to ‘forever’:

now we’re gonna crop and resize this baby. the recommended post width for tumblr is 540px if you’re uploading one gif. (268px if it’s two gifs side by side)

so go to image>image size

and when this box pops up change the width to 540px:

now that it’s the right width i’m gonna crop it to get rid of those ugly black bars from the top and bottom of the gif. (this step is probably unnecessary in most cases tbh)

go find the crop button on the toolbar:

then just crop the image like so:

it looks great!! yay us. nearly done, i promise.

now we need to go back to the bottom right corner of the frames and press this funky lil button (convert to timeline animation):

and now it looks like this:

next step is to select EVERYTHING by pressing ctrl+alt+A so that it’s all highlighted, and then go to layer>smart objects>convert to smart object

to check it’s worked press the little play button again. if it’s moving, congratulations you now have a gif!!!! 

you can immediately save it but i recommend sharpening and colouring it first.

to sharpen it go to filter>sharpen>smart sharpen

these are the settings i used, but it differs from gif to gif depending on the quality of the video:

then you just need to colour it if you like: 

and then save it.

to save go to file>save for web and devices. you can change the settings if you like to see what looks best. just make sure at the bottom it says ‘Forever’ under Looping Options instead of ‘Once’

oh, and make sure the file size is under 8mb otherwise it won’t upload to tumblr properly.

and voila! you have a gif you can upload to tumblr and make everyone jel of your mad skillz.

if you made it this far and it worked, congratulations, well done and i’m so sorry this tutorial was so convoluted and bad. there’s a reason i’m not a teacher. if anything’s confusing or doesn’t work just message me and i will try to help lol

and if anyone wants to know how i coloured the final gif then just let me know too! i ran out of space on this post.............

[breadstyx]

Tagged by the incredible @sunny-day-sky and since for once I'm on desktop instead of mobile I'll actually do it. ✌️

1. why did you choose your url?

It's a pun that came to me like 5 years ago and that I found so good that I instantly took the url. I started using it maybe 6 months after that and I'm never going back.

2. any side blogs?

Nah. I'm putting it all in the same pot, making a content stew babeyyy.

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

I think we're reaching 10 years in like, less than 6 months.

4. do you have a queue tag?

No, because I've never used and will never use the queue.

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

No clue. I think one of my twitter friends had one and I decided to check it out ? I quickly let my Twitter wither as I moved here tho.

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

I like robots. I like the absurdity of this robot trying to "eat" an admittedly pretty good-looking hamburger. At this point I couldn't see myself switching to smth else now after years.

7. why did you choose your header?

Because it's one of the most satisfying pictures I've ever seen. I love it when stuff is neatly aligned and perfectly regular. I definitely could've done it myself so I felt like it matched my vibe.

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

Technically it's the "Kettle that boils your water by lowering the pressure" one — I think it's near 13k. But I'm 50% sure my screenshot tags on that one 100k notes post are the reason people have started using "tags passing peer-review" to talk about adding someone's tags to the main body of a post.

9. how many mutuals do you have?

Technically around 150, but most of them have long left tumblr. I actively talk/interact to like.. maybe 10-20 people on here I'd say? And on top of that there's maybe that number again that I don't actively talk to but feel like I could hit up and start chatting with again.

10. how many followers do you have?

A smidge over 1000. Most of them are inactive and/or bots, even if I block the really obvious ones.

11. how many people do you follow?

Just under 350, but a lot of these have been inactive for years.

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

A couple.

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

There's huge variations in my tumblr use. These days I tend to come less and less as I'm finding more interesting ways to spend my time and attention, but there are still days here and there where I'm gonna spend a couple of hours on here during the day.

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

Once or twice. Never too bad, never got in any drama.

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

Oh fuck those. I either ignore or reblog from someone higher up in the reblog chain.

16. do you like tag games?

They're pretty fun ! Especially if they're image-based or p lightweight. I actually have a backlog of tag games like this one where you just really can't do them on mobile (and I'm on mobile most of the time) so I'm sorry to anyone that tagged me on smth like this and I never did it.

17. do you like ask games?

I don't reblog them often but I like to send some to ppl when I see those getting reblogged.

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

A couple actually !

@queerlynx has that one Neko Atsume as real cats post that's just huge.

@sassypixiestrashcan got that one solarpunk post going, too.

@p0stmarxed is both famous (many good posts, renowned chef and knife owner, milf) and infamous (turn signal discourse, velociraptor sloppy) on here - a fact I know she despises.

@turing-tested of many good takes, even if he's more known for some of his funnier posts.

@asundergrowth for a bunch of things, even if not all of them on this one blog, because they're talented in more ways than I can count.

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

If you don't have a slight crush on any of your friends that are on here (and some of your cooler mutuals), you're missing out.

20. tags?

Let's see.. @queerlynx, @jaffre, @elinaline (ik you were already tagged), @p0stmarxed (I don't think I've ever seen you do one of those so I have no idea if you like them or not), @wheatlev, @sassypixiestrashcan, @hatcrufle, @asundergrowth, @cry4judas, @fiul-risipit, @sweetbeansraych, @thatsthenorthstar, @kr1g and @flammedoudoune.

As usual, feel free not to do it if you're not into those.

[livvywrites]

wip re-intro: sapphire dreaming

Aura has known she doesn’t belong in Middell for as long as she can remember. Now, thanks to a mysterious visitor, she finally has a chance to leave. But first, she has to get her hands on a birthright that has eluded her since she was old enough to go searching for it.

genre → young adult/new adult fantasy

themes → found family; friendship; magic; belonging; self-discovery status → second draft || first in a trilogy est. length → 75k

[ id: two images side by side. the left is a person’s hand holding a blue crystal / gem, over a wooden table. a bowl of green leaves has been mostly cropped out. the second is a blond woman with her hair over her face, standing in front of a campsite in the forest. she is wearing an orange shawl, with one hand tucked closer to her stomach and the other extended. both are overlaid with a blue & pink-y filter, and edited to look like an oil painting. at the top of both is text reading: Enchanted Gems Book One. then, the title of the book in a script font reading Sapphire Dreaming. and beneath that, Livvy Moore. ]

(Sorry the image description is so low! I’d like to have put it in alt-text, but I don’t know how to do that on desktop D:)

So, I’m having some issues with The Martyr Queen, and I’m not quite up to writing my sci-fi wip, so I thought it was time to turn back to an old-ish wip. This is the first wip I ever finished a first draft of... though the plot of the original needed a major tweak. (Especially since I decided to add some plot points to the second two!)

I’ve talked about this on here a bit before, when I was still pretty new to using this blog as a writeblr... but it’s been long enough that I’m starting fresh!

Summary and character intro’s below the cut :D

photos: unsplash || fonts: calibri & young vigor || ps actions: belladonna & earl grey

summary

Aura Laevis is an infamous thief, known as the Sapphire Dream, renowned for stealing gems (mainly sapphires) that are rumored to have even the slightest bit of magic in them. But this is not normal thievery. She’s looking for the three enchanted sapphires, which belong to the light gem keeper---or, rather, which belong to her. They went missing, long ago, and she needs them to claim her birthright, and to return to a home that she’s never seen. Her mission, however, seems doomed to fail: especially with dark gem keeper, Corintha Voclain, there to thwart her at every step.

That changes one stormy night when Aura’s home, an adventurer’s inn in the middle of the Wynria forests, is visited by a woman claiming to be from Fayvale. She knows where the gems are... and she can help Aura find them, and learn to use the magic she harbors inside. Aura doesn’t trust her... but this is the best lead she’s gotten in her entire life. So she follows her into the heart of Fortwall: the best defended city in all of Middell.

The two of them make a plan to steal the sapphires from where they’re sitting, hidden, inside of Fortwall’s bank. However, on the night of, everything goes wrong. The sapphires are gone, already in the hands of Corintha, and Aura is spotted. She escapes the guards with the help of Chase Elderwood... another magic user, whom Aura cannot help but feel drawn to, and vice versa.

If the three of them want to get to Fayvale, and keep Corintha from using the sapphires for her own ends, they must take them back. But it’s going to take everything they have, and then some.

characters

Aura Laevis → protagonist. 21. keeper of the light gems. thief known as the Sapphire Dream. graceful, deadly, and determined, Aura is a formidable foe. however, she is also impulsive, impatient, and prefers to work alone. she’s spent most of her life in the safety of the Golden Coin--an inn deep within the forests of Wynria--leaving only to delve into old ruins or steal artifacts rumored to be enchanted gems. her one goal in life is to go to Fayvale... though part of her dreads the day she will finally get to leave, and leave behind the man who raised her.

Chase Elderwood → deuteragonist. 20. a soft-spoken young man from Fortwall, the best defended city in all of Middell. he, too, is possessed of some kind of magic: but unlike Aura, he’s never had any reason to doubt that he was born in Middell. that said, he feels an irresistible call to Fayvale... and to the Sapphire Dream, infamous thief. when he saves her from imprisonment (and possible execution), he knows that he was meant to aid her... to go with her. even if it means leaving everything he loves behind.

Melantha →  deuteragonist. 23. a woman who claims to be from Fayvale itself... and to have knowledge on the whereabouts of the enchanted gems. she is quiet and introspective, and more than a bit socially awkward. she doesn’t talk much about her past, or even about Fayvale itself... but she seems determined to help Aura find the gems, and bring the three of them back to Fayvale where they belong.

Corintha Voclain →  antagonist. 52. the dark gem keeper. her ancestor was exiled to Middell years and years ago when Fayvale first separated from the rest of the world. Corintha wants to gain ultimate power, and command all six of the gems. however, to do this, she must first get her hands on and corrupt the light gems. and when she finally does... she’s not going to let anyone stop her from finally fulfilling her dream.

[a-dragons-journal]

My Experiences of Nonhumanity

I get asked about “what makes you/people in general feel you’re/they’re otherkin” a lot, and while the answer is far from simple and my experiences are anything but universal, I figure it deserves a write-up once in a while. A friend asked about it a couple nights ago, so I wrote up a huge long message on Discord, and decided to rewrite it into a Tumblr post for posterity. This’ll be a long one, folks; hit J on desktop to skip.

It’s worth noting ahead of time: none of these things are required to be otherkin, and none of them automatically mean you’re otherkin. In fact, most of them are little more than mildly “weird” quirks when they occur in isolation, and only start to push outside the range of “normal human experiences” when many of them occur together. You can’t look at someone (including yourself) and say “they like collecting things, they must be dragonkin!” It’s not that simple. You have to take the individual as a whole even as you examine each specific experience in more detail - don’t lose the forest while you’re studying the trees. This is just a description of my personal experiences.

Shifts

- Phantom shifts/supernumerary phantom limbs: Probably the most obvious thing and the hardest to brush off, although I still managed to do so for years. Phantom shifts, aka supernumerary phantom limbs, are the experience of feeling limbs or body parts that do not and never have physically existed. In my case, the most common phantom limbs to show up are my wings and tail; other body parts, such as digitigrade legs, horns, snout, and paws/talons, also make appearances less frequently. While my phantom limbs almost never attempt to replicate tactile sensations/interactions with the physical world, they’re often defined by very vivid proprioception (ability to tell where your body is in space, mainly via muscle stretch receptors), and I can tell where each part of the limb is at any given time - it’s not just a shapeless sense of “weight,” or it wouldn’t be phantom limbs. I can also move them at will, typically. My phantom shifts are typically spontaneous and involuntary, but they’ve been induced artificially a couple different ways as well, though I can’t typically do it at will.

- Sensory shifts: Still not something I’m totally sure I experience, but there are definitely times my sense of smell becomes insanely strong compared to usual even for me, which fits the definition of a sensory shift.

- Astral shifts: While I’m far from an adept astral traveler, when visualizing “traveling” within my own mindscape, I shift form fluidly between human and dragon - although I almost always have wings at the very least.

- Cameo shifts: Mentioned only because it’s relevant to my phantom shifts. I realized at some point that the reason I get cameo shifts of canine/feline ears sometimes is because they usually show up when they’re pricking/flattening to express emotion, and the muscles that move to do that action are basically the same as the ones that do those actions with the crest that runs down my neck, and because of my obsession with cats/dogs/horses as a young child and because that’s not a particularly strong phantom shift for me usually, I connected the dots a little wrong and created a false association.

- Self-image: This isn’t technically a shift, but it’s going here anyway because it doesn’t really fit in any other section either. My body image/self-image is weird. I know, consciously, what I physically look like. However, my instinctive self-image is... hmm. What I “expect” to see doesn’t always match up with what’s actually there when I look in the mirror. Teeth are a huge point of fixation for me for some reason; I always expect them to be larger, sharper, stronger. I expect my neck to be longer, my face to be... different. I expect scales in places. I expect claws. Even knowing consciously that of course it won’t be there, it’s still strange sometimes that it’s not. There’s sometimes some mild disconnect when I see myself. (Sometimes not. But sometimes.)

Homesickness

(Or, the sense of missing something you’ve never had - not of “I want/want to be [x], and it makes me sad/upset that I don’t have/am not that,” but of “I should have/be [x], and it is fundamentally wrong that I do/am not.”)

- Flight: I have always wanted to fly, and for a long time I thought everyone ached for the sky the same way I did. Most people don’t, as it turns out. Yes, everyone’s fantasized about flying, but most people don’t feel bones-deep, crushing, physical pain in their chest thinking about it. Most people don’t lift up onto their toes instinctively straining for the sky. I’ve felt that aching longing for it for as long as I can remember.

- Connection to dragons: For as long as I can remember knowing about dragons, I loved the idea of them and even when I was very young, when I’d only really been exposed to media where they were the great evil for the hero to defeat and received no more character development than “evil, destructive, fire-breathing beast,” I was always on the dragon’s side and wanted to learn more about them. That hasn’t faded. I’ll watch an absolutely terrible movie or TV show that I otherwise loathe if it has good enough animation and sound design on the dragons. (Looking at you, Game of Thrones.*) I would commit arson to see one of those Isle-style dragon survival games actually go through and finish production. (Holding out hope for the Dragon Game Project on YouTube; go check them out if you haven’t already.) I’ve also used dragons to represent myself for pretty much as long as I’ve had an online presence - years before I ever heard of otherkin, I was calling myself Dragonheart.

- Dragon-like creatures: Snakes, crocodilians, and dinosaurs all fall into this category - all of them give me a similar heart-and-breathing-pick-up, aching familiarity to dragons. They’re not perfect, but in a snake’s scales and a crocodile’s bellows and a dinosaur’s spectacular reptilian size I see echoes of us and I have always loved them with a passion, even before I quite knew why.

- Dragon/”monster” noises: Sound generators, creature sound design, real animal noises, etc. that are meant to be monstrous and that most people find unsettling or even frightening, I find comforting and relaxing. Alligator bellows, “monster noise” soundscapes, etc. all apply here.

* No shade on anyone who likes Game of Thrones, I’m just not a fan. :P

Behaviors/Instincts/Urges

- Hoarding: I’m still not sure how much of the crystal thing is "monkey brain say Shiney Colorful," how much is a witch thing, and how much is a dragon thing, but some of it is a dragon thing.

- Territorial/possessive nature: I can get... extremely territorial over my stuff and my home. This can extend right into being ridiculously protective of my people too, although I do try to rein that in to a reasonable amount. This also extends into games like Capture the Flag, because put me on defending the border during middle and high school and I got frighteningly territorial. (Fun fact, this extends to spiritual protection stuff and it has almost gotten me in trouble a few times on that front.) The other main side effect is my brain trying to claim completely inappropriate things as “mine,” like every piano I have ever touched or, that one time, the entire city of Portland.

- Prey drive: Going on a walk in the woods with me will always be an exercise in stopping every twenty seconds because I heard a small animal move in the brush and froze instinctively to track it. Prey drive ranges from "okay I can indulge this enough to track-stalk-chase without actually intending to catch-kill-eat" to "this is entirely inappropriate and needs to Stop Right Now" depending on the day and the situation - sometimes it’s fairly low-key and innocent, but sometimes it's also being confronted with the sudden and completely serious/genuine thought of grabbing someone or something by the neck/around the body with your jaws and hunt-prey-kill-devour when it's completely inappropriate and kind of disturbing or even sickening. It’s one of the more annoying things, although it’s not like it’s severe enough that I’m an actual danger to anyone - it’s just a gut thought that gets filtered out at the conscious level without significant problems. This also bleeds into games (I get... maybe a little overenthusiastic during tag) and even watching TV shows or gaming videos - most of the time at least part of me is rooting for the hunter because I relate to them as a fellow predator, even if the audience is supposed to be rooting for the prey - I mean, protagonists.

- Basking/heat-seeking: Probably only partially a dragon thing, but despite the fact that I hate heat in general, radiant/sun heat and heat from a heated surface are both fantastic feelings provided the ambient air temperature isn't too high. I'm guessing this is at least partially a reptile brain thing.

- Height-seeking: Give me a chance to climb up on top of something - a rock, a cliff, a chair, a table, a bunk bed - and look out over everything else, and I'll take it in an instant. Getting to climb up on the roof is the best thing that's happened to me this entire quarantine.

- Flight instinct: Being mildly leery of cliffs not because I am afraid of falling, because I'm really not, but because there's always some part of my brain that goes "jump, fly, this is a perfect takeoff spot" and I have to squash that before I do something particularly stupid. This manifests in other ways, but that's the most dramatic (and annoying) one. This is also one of the things I noticed as definitively not normal long before my awakening. (The Grand Canyon was fun.)  Similarly to the prey drive thing, it's not like I'm actually in danger of throwing myself off cliffs, it’s just - there's a not-insignificant part of my brain that thinks "hey we should go run and jump off and take a quick flight," in the same way I might also casually think "hey I should stroll across to the corner store for a bag of chips" before I consciously decide whether or not to do that. It’s the exact same type of thought process, despite the fact that one of those things is something I might do on any given school day, and the other is, you know, physically impossible.

- Combat instincts: I get in a fight and my pure instinct is to bite or claw, not kick or punch or whatever it is humans do instinctively. I have those reflexes now courtesy of Krav, but I had to train them in - if you’d thrown me into a fight before, I absolutely would have resorted to claws/nails and teeth immediately (and I still will, when pressed into a corner). Sometimes, unfortunately, this goes off completely unwarranted, either in an anger situation that does not deserve a physical response, or for no apparent reason whatsoever. It's one of the more problematic things, but once again - it’s not like it’s a compulsion, just a gut-emotion thought that gets filtered out at the conscious level.

- Scent focus: Who knows how much of this is environmental influence and how much is instinctive, but I always have and still do focus on scent more than most humans seem to. I can identify people by scent, I seem to pay more attention to it than most people do. I also seem less bothered by natural body smells than most people do, but considering the responses when I asked around in the otherkin community once about that, unclear whether or not that's connected.

- Nonhuman noises: I make just a bunch of weird nonhuman noises, and always have. Growls, hisses, croons, hurrs, throat-clicks, chirps, etc. I've never met any human who does them instinctively like I do except my half-sister (whom I didn’t meet until a couple years ago), and she was just as surprised to hear me do it as I was surprised to hear her do it.

- Affection: Face-rubbing, light head-bonking against someone’s shoulder/body/head, and love nips/bites are all perfectly acceptable ways to show platonic affection, to dragon brain. Human society disagrees. The instinct to do these things is so strong that I definitely do give into the first two with people I’m close with, and I have physically had to catch and restrain myself when I was about to unthinkingly bite/nip someone’s skin because I wasn’t paying enough attention.

- Movement: Moving on all fours just feels better than moving on two legs, even though it’s objectively physically uncomfortable because humans aren’t built for that. I also have the instinctive want to be a lot more flexible than I’m capable of being, in ways I’m not capable of being - curling all the way around something or someone to squeeze them tight in the coil of my body, turning my head a hundred eighty degrees because my neck Should Be Longer.

- Expression: Baring one’s teeth when frustrated, irritated, or angry is not a particularly human instinct. I realize it’s something a lot of primates do do, but. *gestures at society* Humans ain’t one of them, at least not anymore. Even in Krav Maga, which is a self-defense style that focuses on being vicious and “dirty fighting” to survive a real street fight, every single time I have a new partner (and most times I have a partner I’ve worked with before) and I get tired enough to get snarly, they respond with some variation of “god that’s scary”. See also: gesturing at things with my nose because it should be long enough to make that a much more dramatic gesture than it ends up being.

- Den/lair/small spaces: I never feel safer than when curled up in a tiny alcove just big enough to comfortably fit my body curled up into it. The only position I’ll prioritize over it is getting up onto a high space.

Past Life Work

Unlike every other bullet point on this list, most of these didn’t apply until I started actively seeking them out, because, you know. Past life memories are like that.

- Past life regressions: I’ve got a tag for these, but tl;dr I take anything I learn from a past life regression or similar meditation/visualization with a whole spoonful of salt, forget “a grain,” because I know for a fact my brain is very good at making stuff up with these types of exercises. Unfortunately, they’re the only way to get information on certain things, like appearance.

- Tarot: Got a tag for that too. I use tarot to ask questions and confirm or reject suspicions.

- Spontaneous memories: I don’t have many, but they’re clear as day when they do appear. I don’t count something as a “true” memory unless it includes senses I can’t reproduce through imagination - smell and touch, mainly. Mostly these are quick flashbulbs, nothing cinematic or anything like that.

- Noemata: Again, I don’t have much in the way of noemata, but what I do have is persistent and consistent. I know things about my wing shape and flight style despite not having really experienced that in detail during past life regressions. That particular set of noemata has been confirmed to fit with real-world physics and bat wing shapes (the closest wing type to mine that exists or has existed on Earth).