#[ so ive just been recuperating ]

[clowningaroundmars]

welp. the day has finally come

one of the only hardworking supervisors here at my morning job has finally walked out and so i will too 🤷🏻‍♀️

going back to my lil nursing home job now 😔

[sylvctica]

do writing over weekend: mission failed

[docsdarling]

2.5 days until I go home and I am utterly exhausted </33 I need to be wrapped around Erik underneath his jacket n scarf, pressed as tightly as possible against him in the safe darkness for at LEAST 2 weeks when I get home...

[orcelito]

Every day I wake up and time passes and then I have to go to sleep again. And I'm sick of it. Haven't I had enough struggling to fall asleep?? Many hundreds of times, in fact. And yet every night, I must do it all over again or I will be attacked by The Demons.

Sick and fucked up fr

[dalishthunder]

god I just love how you wrote that intro, seeing himself, his family the fondness and the juxtaposition of "and then he'd gone to war" like.... hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

ALSO ALSO

This right here!?!?!?!?? I had a dialogue in my head that was basically the same thing so like.... this is the good shit

I'm so in love with giving men flowers like obvi everyone should get flowers, but i feel like nebs probably hasn't gotten many flowers in his life (probably mostly due to the fact that he's a crusty disgusting mer) but the idea of him receiving flowers, the very soft... tender feeling...

Dragon's Tongue

✧ Nebarra x human!LDB, ft. Xelzaz & Khash ✧ Fluff, minor angst; 1300+ words ♫ "You And I (Stripped)" - PVRIS ✒ Something short n sweet today, I'm feeling soft

Nebarra was loath to admit it to himself, and he'd die before ever saying it aloud, but the Rift really was beautiful. Nothing compared to Alinor, to be sure, but... all the gold reminded him of home. And when he passed by a small, isolated farm, he could almost see himself on its porch, see his brother leaning against the door.

The illusions were younger, happier versions of themselves. So much more innocent, faces bright with naivety, eyes shining with plans for the future.

And then he'd gone to war.

He'd lost... so much of himself, in the deserts of Hammerfell. They had scorched and burned him inside and out, slowly bleeding him dry with every comrade he saw fall. And all that, for what? For all the Altmer's supposed superiority, the campaign had failed on all fronts – Hammerfell's walls and people defied them, and Cyrodiil remained in power, weakened but still unbroken.

How could the Thalmor still strut about, arrogant to Aetherius and back, when they had failed so miserably? How could they look at the faces of the families whose children and lovers they'd sent to die and only tell them they'd "served their purpose"?

Nebarra couldn't.

He couldn't face them at all. Not even through pen and paper, leagues away from ever having to look them in the eyes, ever having to see the pain and loss in their gaze.

Where the Thalmor were heartless, he was a coward.

And he didn't know which was worse.

~~~

Night fell, and you called the group to halt, to make camp until dawn. Nebarra set up the tent as you argued with Xelzaz, trying to convince him that no, he shouldn't summon a flame atronach and then kill it for its fire salts, no matter how good it would make dinner taste. Khash merely looked on, muching on some clover she'd picked up somewhere.

At last though, you got Xelzaz to relent, though he asked you to gather some herbs in exchange, listing off the plants he wanted you to find.

"Ah... and take Nebarra with you."

The elf froze. Turned slowly towards the lizard. Demanded, "What? Why?"

"Two eyes are better than one," he shrugged, "and that much safer, as well. We don't know what's out there, and I'm pretty sure we passed a necromantic altar on our way here."

At that, you groaned, head rolling back like a teenager who'd just been told to do their chores. "Gods, not another one. Why do we always seem to run into those?"

"Luck of the Dragonborn? Anyway, off with you now – I have to get set up. Let's see, in whose pack did I leave my cooking pot...? Khash! Come help me with this!"

And just like that he walked off, leaving you and Nebarra alone by the campfire. A chuckle escaped you, and he glanced over to see you shaking your head. "I'm surprised he didn't tell us to hold hands, too, so we don't lose each other in the dark."

"Yeah, I'm not holding your hand," Nebarra snarked. And it was true. Absolutely true. Totally, one-hundred percent true.

"Oh wow, Nebs, that one almost hurt." Your soft laugh seemed to echo in his ears, his mind. "Come on, let's go – I don't suppose you heard any of the plants he wants?"

Blue and yellow mountain flowers, to restore and fortify. Purple for rejuvenation, and to give to Khash. Scaly pholiota for fiber and strengthening. Wild gourds and dragon's togue for flavour.

He snorted from behind his helm. "That would require paying attention to him."

"Should have known," you sighed. "Alright, listen up before I forget: blue, yellow, and purple mountain flowers, scaly pholiota, and dragon's tongue. And be careful with the purple mountain flowers, they're gifts for Khash. Oh, he also wants some wild gourds. Got it?"

"...Yeah, yeah. Let's just get going."

He definitely hadn't feigned ignorance just to hear your voice some more. Definitely not.

~~~

"Ah, back at last! Perfect," Xelzaz said, stirring something in a pot over the fire. "Now I can get the real meal started."

"Then what's this?" Nebarra demanded as Xelzaz handed him a bowl, in exchange for the plants the Altmer carried. Even through his gauntlets he could feel its warmth, and a rich, savory scent drifted up through the slits of his helmet.

"Something amazing, from the smell," you sighed, and Nebarra didn't have to look to know you were drooling.

"Just a little sometime to hold you over," the Argonian demurred, handing you a bowl as well. "Thought I'd experiment with some of the flora I've gathered thus far."

That gave Nebarra pause. "Wait – experiment? That's settled, I'm not eating this."

"If you don't want it–"

Your words were drowned out by Khash's eager shout of, "I'll eat it! I'll take your bowl!" She rushed over to him, red eyes trained on the food.

"Khash, you had your share," Xelzaz chided. "Any more and you won't have room for the rest of dinner."

"Yes, I will! I have room for anything you make."

"She's got a point," you laughed, and Nebarra slowly, wordlessly handed her the bowl.

"I'll go keep watch," he grumbled, turning away.

"Oh, don't be like that! Nebarra!" When he didn't respond, you sighed, calling after him, "Alright, go sulk! I'll make sure Xelzaz doesn't poison your share, though you kind of deserve it!"

His back still towards you, Nebarra raised his hand in a rude gesture, and your laughter rang through the night.

Some thirty minutes later, he heard footsteps approaching; he didn't need to turn to know it was you. Your tread was distinct from the others, weighted with determination and confidence, whereas Xelzaz's was soft and steady, and Khash's light and hesitant.

"Here. Eat." Despite the short words, your tone was gentle, and Nebarra looked over to see you holding a plate out towards him, laden with a slab of meat and wild berries to the side. "It's delicious, and unpoisoned."

"How would you know?" he sniffed, catching a whiff of the food in the process. It... did smell amazing. "Did you try it?"

"I did, actually. Stole some of your steak when Xelzaz wasn't looking. And since I'm still standing here pestering you, I guess that means it's clean."

Nebarra paused, eyes training on your face. Half of it was wreathed in shadow, only the gleam of your eyes visible; the other half was illuminated by the campfire, revealing the soft smile you wore.

You... had a nice smile.

And before he could stop himself, he mumbled, "You're not... pestering me."

Surprise flickered in your gaze – surprise, and something else. Something he told himself he didn't recognise, refused to recognise.

After a moment, you said softly, "That's... good to hear, then. Because I have something else for you, too." Reaching down with your free hand, you pulled something from your belt and held it out before him. "I saved one, 'cause it reminded me of you."

Nebarra stared. There, held gently between your fingers, was a dragon's tongue flower, petals open wide and colours vibrant in full bloom. "This... reminded you of me?"

"It's gold. Just like you."

"...You really do have trouble with your eyesight, don't you? These are orange."

"Eh, close enough." You shrugged, the smile never leaving your face.

Slowly, Nebarra reached out and, ignoring the plate of food, took the flower carefully, delicately from your grasp, cradling it in his palm. "...Am I supposed to say thank you?"

"You just did." As he raised a brow from the shadows of his helm, you set the plate on a nearby rock and tapped the gauntlet that held the flower. "You accepted it."

He couldn't deny it. "Think you got me all figured out then, huh?"

Something in your smile shifted, your gaze flickering. "No. Not yet, anyways. But... I think I'd like to." And with that, you turned on your heel and walked away, leaving him alone in the dark, stunned.

And that night, as he sat in the shadows of the campfire, he stared at the flower for a long, long time.

[burning-omen]

Happy (Belated) Halloween!

Jason Todd x Demon!male!reader

(A/n: I'm tired, I've been getting argued at and pulled into fights that have nothing to do with me from the time I woke up- had a bunch of chores and shit to do and the fucking grocery store was packed and people keep bumping into me and all the fucking prices went way up since the last time I was there less than a month ago- I'm thoroughly overstimulated and getting home to edit and rewrite certain parts of this shitty little fic was a probably the best part of my day.)

Warning: crack fic kinda, blood, Demon!reader, murder, mutilation, and gore, summoning gone right technically, reader has TWO dicks, size difference, overstimulation, masochism, probably misspellings idk I'm not reading it again that's your job, dom/sub, ownership marking, sacrifice (rip that guy, ive been calling him marvin in my head), going missing for a lil while (consensually), OOC jason todd but this is literally porn who cares

word count: 1981 (short, i know, shut up/j)

Halloween parties were the worst. If the loud, drunk, half-naked crowd wasn’t enough to convince Jason, walking in on an honest to god seance was.

Being dragged to a party by Dick, only to lose him in the crowd of people within the first few minutes. He just wanted some quiet- and under the guise of looking for how brother he managed to avoid nearly every conversation that came his way- except for some incomprehensible drunk girl who insisted on holding a conversation with his even though she sounded like she was under water every time she opened her mouth.

He eventually managed to escape from her, finding the nearest room to recuperate in, only to be greeted by a room of chanting, drunk party-goers, kneeling around a shakily drawn yet intricate summoning circle. The chant was Latin- super old Latin- and Jason really wanted no part in this. He knew that demons were real, he knew a lot of shit that was supposedly fake was real- he had Batman to thank for that. So, after standing in the room for about 30 seconds, he decided to leave.

Turning on his heel, not saying a word to whatever party cult he just walked in on- deadset on leaving when he heard choking, and gasps from the mini cult as they clamored around the chanter who had suddenly collapsed.

Taking in a deep breath, cursing Bruce and the unwavering need to help he instilled in all of his children, before turning back to the group.

Laying, choking in the middle of the circle was a young man-

‘He’s drunk,’ Jason thought, pushing through the group surrounding him, their concern was nice- but unhelpful ‘probably choked on his tongue.’

Tilting his head back, the choking became louder- tears streamed down his face, his mouth agape as he clawed at his throat- his eyes desperate and afraid.

“It’s okay,” Jason tried, but he wasn’t exactly known for his bedside manner. “Just let me look.”

He peered down the man's throat- his tongue was wear it was supposed to be, but blood still filled the man’s mouth. Clearly whatever was happening here was internal, there's nothing Jason could do for him. Before he could ask anyone to call an ambulance- he saw something move at the very back of his throat. Even through the pooling blood, he could tell something wasn’t right- what the hell did he swallow?

His neck bulged as something made its way up- that was good- maybe. Slowly pushing up- whatever it was- caused the man to cry out in pain. He coughed and sputtered as it moved up and up until it pushed past the muscles of his throat and out of his mouth. A hand, clawed- drenched in blood, moving with so much force that a crack sounded through the room as more and more of the form inside him- whatever it was- came out. Breaking his jaw to finally reach out and grab his face- he cried out as pain and panic filled him- he turned to Jason for help as his friends fled but there wasn’t anything Jason could do but sit there in horror as an arm lifted from his broken and mutilated face- he cheeks tearing in as his mouth opened to unnatural length.

The bloody arm clawed at the floor, sharp talon like nails leaving deep wounds in the wood. Jason backed away- fear as well as guilt taking over. The basic instinct that anyone who had even taken the moniker “Robin” knew took over soon after, he needs to call batman- he couldn’t handle whatever this is, not on his own. He reached for his phone right as the candle lit room suddenly went dark. Jason, usually so strong and sure, didn’t know what to do. His communicator clattered to the floor as he stood.

He swore quietly- backing up until he was pressed against the wall- the sound of flesh tearing filled the room- still hot blood splattered across his face.

A soft growl came from the dark, deep and steady and growing closer by the second. Then,as if they had never been out, the candles were re-lit.

A massive beastly thing stood above him, horned and winged- a long tail trailing behind it. Soaked in the blood of the man that was scattered in chunks around the room. Despite knowing that he should definitely be afraid, a man had been ripped from the inside out right in front of him, something somewhere in his mind was saying, “would”. The thought immediately made him cringe at himself- he could not survive that- not only were you massive, you were also very naked. With not one but two just as massive, heavy cocks resting between your legs. He’d die, simply put, torn in half Terrifier style.

“Scared, human?” You asked, voice just as inhuman as your form.

Suddenly unable to find his words, Jason shook his head.

The action made you purr- something was so wrong with this man, not running or screaming, but instead sitting before you, his eyes wandering over your body, face reddened as his heart pounded in his chest.

He didn’t even attempt to move when you reached for him, his breath caught in his throat, but he remained perfectly still as you stroked his hair, then ran the backside of your claws down his cheek. All the way down to his chest, pressing just the tip of your claw in, watching as his shirt quickly became stained with blood.

“Not scared? How brave of you, human. “ You mused, “I require sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?” he barely managed.

Trailing your claw lower and lower until the point of it rested over the growing bulge in his pants.

“A sacrifice of life is usually offered.” You pressed down, “But, another kind of offering will suffice.”

Jason breathed out- he can’t. Mentally, he could- he’s done all kinds of weird shit, fucking a demon wouldn’t even come close to the worse things he done- it doesn’t even reach top ten with the rest of his family’s track record for weird shit. But physically, that would kill him. One alone would shatter his pelvis and probably paralyze him- two would just straight up kill him. And you really didn’t seem like the kind of demon to go half way- you did come all the way from hell after all.

The obvious thing to do was to say no and call a fucking exorcist- but Jason didn’t do that, instead he speaks, so sure and steady as he spoke-

“Can you shrink?”

The entirety of your form became, your horns no longer scraped the ceiling, but you were still massive above Jason. You didn’t make it easy for him- pressing him into the floor with one clawed hand gripping his hair tightly, knees pressed into the hard wood and legs spread wide open, his cock- which you decided needed to remain untouched for the “sacrifice” to be valid.

Labored breathing, gasping and all encompassing sobs filled the room as both of your cock stretched him to the limit every time you thrusted into him- his nearly blunt nails leaving marks in the wooden floor below him.

With his mouth hanging wide open- he begged- muttering a broken “Please-’’ between moans-

You leaned down, pulling him up by his hair- resting inside him before speaking.

“You want more, human?”

Eyes brimmed with tears, feeling far fuller than felt natural- but so good and warm at the exact same time- deep in his stomach all the down to the very tips of his toes, every nerve so very alive.

He nods, shortly and without hesitation.

You grip on his hair loosens, and he sighs in relief as the burning pain in his scalp stops.

Only to flair up in his hips as you dig your claws into them, literally. Piercing through skin and drawing blood that slid over his skin and pooled beneath him on the floor. Jason, ever the masochist, only gets louder. With the party outside still raging on, you're sure the sound blended into the background- and any attendee lucky enough to have heard the high, whiny moans was listening far too hard.

Thrusting became painful, hard slamming- both cocks abusing his prostate with unnatural accuracy. Pulling out until the tips of your cock were just barely inside of him- then pressing back in so hard his entire body was pushed forward.

Jason’s mind was loud and incoherent - incomplete thoughts running through his head, cut short by either pain or pleasure every single time.

His body spammed unwillingly, muscles tightening and releasing, his hole tightened around you in an attempt to suck you in more- even if more would cause so so many problems for the man.

“So greedy,” you hummed in his ear, and you take cock so well.”

He didn’t respond, he couldn’t, overwhelmed and obsessed with the feeling. His orgasm- the first of many snuck up on him, his body overstimulated and oversensitive as hot, white cum shot straight onto the floor.

He gasped for air as though he’d been held under water- his body burned as he clenched around you- pleasure gone- replaced by what could only be described as fire destroying him from the inside out. He cried out in pain, his body writhes and contorts- and yet he never asks you to stop.

You grinned, “so cute, I might just have to keep you, human.”

You weren’t far behind him, cum seeping from both of your tips as you buried yourself deep inside him- it only added to the burning. Filling him so much until his hole, still plugged with your cock, leaks it back out. Down his legs and onto the floor, mixing with his own puddle of cum. You watched him for a long moment, letting him grit his teeth and cry at the pain, before showing your newest pet a bit of mercy and pulling out.

His body slouched onto the floor the moment you leg go. Jason was on the verge of passing out, eyes barely open, covered in blood, sweat, and cum. He has a high pain tolerance and his stamina was through the roof- but fucking hell he was so tired, and everything hurt, from his over used knees, to his damn near broken hole, and the small wounds your claws had made- coupled with an over bearing overstimulation making everything ten times worse- Jason, without question, was never doing this again.

—--- A couple weeks later—---

Dick realized that Jason wasn’t a party person, but for him to just disappear (and possibly kill someone at the party??? What the hell Jay???) for weeks seemed to be a bit of an overreaction.

But when he walked into the manor, happy as can be, after just being gone for three weeks, Dick knew something was very wrong- or very unusual- was happening.

“I had a date.” Was Jason’s only response, as he leaned heavily against the back of a chair, but never actually sat down in it.

“A date?!” Dick is so glad he questioned him in private. “With who?”

Jason shrugged, “met a guy at the party.”

“Jason you just dropped off of the face of the Earth with some guy for nearly a month?!”

Dick didn’t realize how literal that was- Hell has some pretty nice residential areas, it turns out.

“I was having fun.”

Jason, of course, was never going to tell Dick what he has really been doing- or what he will continue to be doing for the foreseeable future- but it was fun watching him freak out at every vague answer he gave.

The mark (brand?? Tattoo??) on his back still felt weird, sensitive from its spot hidden under his clothes, but how else would other demon, humans, and every other sentient being know that he was yours.

(a/n 2: AND I KNOW ITS LATE BUT I STILL FINISHED IT WITHIN A REASONABLE TIME SO EVERYBODY SHUT UP/j)

[strwberri-milk]

On a puppy streak today- nsfw pls (if that's okay)

Puppy girl who loves biting and sucking on Kaeya's fingers. Him letting her bite on him for the first time and sees her drool and lick all over his hand just gets him harder than ice.

While he pumps his cock into her, he sees that she's trying to squirm away from his thrusts and it drives him crazy before pulling her right back with one hand on the base of her tail and the other shoving his fingers into her mouth for grip on her jaw. 😈

as someone who has both a hand kink and a bit of a oral fixation this is all such a mood lolol and its also super nsfw so ive hid all of it under the cut lol

When you asked him to give you his hand for the first time he didn't know what to expect. He knew that you love holding it, or sometimes you like to press kisses to it. You were always very touchy with him and he never thought much of it until you started licking and kissing all over it. The way you moved your tongue was so erotic his head would spin, cock hardening at the thought of you using it on him.

Your eyes are practically tearing up just at the ability to look up at him from your station, sat between his thighs and lapping at his digits desperately. The wet sound of your tongue and mouth makes him bite his lip hard, resisting the urge to fuck your mouth hard with his fingers. He doesn't want to hurt you after all.

However, you're just so desperate for his attention he can't help but tease and play with you to his heart's content. You looked so happy to just be able to be with him, now showered in his attention as you bite on his thumb.

"Yeah, you like that don't you you dirty puppy," Kaeya pants against your ear, thumb pressing down on your thumb. He can feel the way you clench around him as the pressure makes you gag slightly, groaning lowly in his throat.

You were writhing around so much, lost in the momentum of his hips as he fucks into you roughly. He takes his hand out of your mouth, bracing himself with them both on either side of your head as he continues his relentless pace.

He loves watching your ass bounce on his cock, needy litle body constantly pining for his attention until you get too overstimulate. That's where the real challenge started, Kaeya obsessed with how your body desperately tries to squirm away from him.

"Now where do you think you're going?" he purrs into your ear, coming off your chest to grab at the base of your tail. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as soon as he starts to tug, using it to drag you over his throbbing dick.

"I didn't say you were done."

The whine of his name is music to his ears, leaning over you to grab you by the jaw. As soon as you feel his fingers you open your mouth and he takes your lead, shoving them into your mouth again as you bite and lick around them. Your spit runs down his arm, crying out even more desperately despite him muffling your sounds.

It doesn't take much of that for you to cum, vision going white as you cream around him. Kaeya sighs in pleasure, huffing at the sight of the white ring slowly dripping down his balls.

You start to catch your breath, thinking you've been given a minute to yourself, and try to recuperate before Kaeya grinds up into you again. You turn around to see his smirk, gasping as your hands clench at the bedsheets again.

"I didn't say you were done."

[hyewka]

rana

rana rana rana

i just read choi yeonjun (and buddy system too but thats for later) and when i tell you i think that fic altered the trajectory of my life, i fucking mean it bc when i tell you i would fuck the shit out of that yeonjun i mean it,, i cant stop thinking abt it actually 😵‍💫 the writing was on point, the descriptives... i think the thing that has always drawn me to your writing is your vocabulary bc every word you use is always the perfect one for that situation holy shit

something abt cocky boys who are so subby actually makes me lose my head a little bit, and the repeated 'this is normal, this is just a one time thing' honestly i think i might need a bit to recuperate. also lets just ignore how the 'condoms in second drawer' made me twitch in a really embarrassing way 🙏 sPlEnDiD

something abt how much you write spit into it also gets me on my knees every time like O.O truly one of the best writers on moablr frfr

and now we have to get into buddy system bc when i tell you sub gyu is my weakness im sure you already know-- himn crying bc he was worried his dick didnt look good had me shaking like idk maybe i like whiny subby boys (or maybe its just txt lol) truly a piece of writing i will die on this hill

i think another part of why your writing is so delicious is you write your dialogue so well!! like ive never thought "oh that was an awkward response" bc it never is like its just so good

also another episode of perv ada printing out rana's fics... while i fuck you straight popped into my head the other night and is def inspo for a scene in my 170 page horny single parent au yeonjun fic (plot twist: its not yeonjun shes fucking) so i printed it and annotated it to find why it was so good, and yet again, it was the dialogue and word use you are just truly on another level <33

hoped you enjoyed my barely coherent review also i think dvp w tyunning could be something to experiment w for kink buffet 😳

When I tell you its been so long since I’ve felt so giddy over an ask, so much so I had to put my phone down and pace around my room for a few seconds because of how excited I got aghh!!!!!! You always deliver with these reviews lol I feel 10x more confident than I usually am about my writing lately—thank you so much, seriously!!! I really liked writing that part in buddy system, crying boys are my weakness and beomgyu’s soooo pretty so it adds to the charm, right?

Im blushing so hard right now i love you❤️ I saw your ask for the event i’m planning for kinktober and I’m definitely going to get on it <3 again you are so kind and thoughtful im beyond grateful and happy over this, genuinely made my day, hell, even month ❤️❤️❤️❤️ thank you again, and im happy wifys could help with your vision

[robinsnest2111]

done it, sent my managers an email and called up my gp to pick up my sick note to send into work asap...

hmm yeah okay, can't stand on my legs steady enough for more than 2 minutes, my head's swimming, cannot work like that for 8 hours. gotta call in sick.... how to go about it tho, I've never done this...

[citrusdownn]

what are your lovebug thoughts/hcs (like how they met) etc.. pls share ur thoughts i have a few but my mind is so jambled rn that i cant type it ouf

THIS IS SUCH A PERFECT OPPORTUNITY FOR ME TO RANT ABT MY CORABUG HCS OH MY GOD THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK

had two ideas for how they met so either they:

met as kids through a team up between the roger pirates and the marines (like with roger and garp) or if they dropped by an island for a supply run and cora happened to be stationed on the island

or in a cora lives au where he and law make it off the island/make their way towards the east blue since its considered the weakest of the blues and they could recuperate there and at some point in coras recovery they meet buggy or something

not too clear on the details for either tbh but the ideas are there (ive drawn kid cora, buggy and shanks interacting before in another post)

OTHER HCS!!!

if they met as kids buggy would brag about being older (theyre both the same age but buggys older by a month so i think itd be incredibly funny and in character if that was something hed brag about)

on occasion they help each other do their makeup but when they arent they prefer to do their makeup in silence to just be in the others presence

cora lets buggy dress him up whenever he wants to figure out an outfit

theyve got matching heart earrings with each other, buggys on his right ear and coras on his left

buggy sleeps sprawled out on the bed and cora sleeps like a corpse (and its prob a common occurence that he falls off the bed in the middle of the night)

im sure theres more i have but these are the ones i can think of right now

if you happen to have any corabug related requests id love to take them! been low on ideas lately so theyd be very welcome lmao

[phantalgia]

Prohibition of Political Discussion In Communities is Dangerous

People don’t like talking about politics. Oh they really hate it. They don’t like people who talk about politics and they want their communities clean of politics. But it doesn't take to long to think of how dangerous this sentiment is. And I'll explain.

Depoliticization in a Queer Community

There is a video of Slavoj Zizek doing a lecture where he has controversally stated that there is nothing revolutionary about being trans (I’m butchering it and probably making it unnuanced but that's the essense of what I took). He was explaining specifically that being trans has pretty much been swallowed up by liberal recuperation. And from that standpoint it makes sense.

Among many individuals I talked to in the queer community there is no consensus on ANYTHING. I have yet to see it. Many don’t really bother too much with the theory behind being queer at all. This can be ok and just shows how normalizaed being queer is becoming which is great. However, among the queer community you are much more likely to find very left leaning people among all across the spectrum. But that's just a minority. Usually it's just very liberal minded individuals literally and metaphorically. A lot of times you can find right wingers, which is strange of course.

One queer community I’m in has made it a rule to exclude any political discussion. Granted, queer politics has remained. But I thought this was strange as there is clearly an inevitable tendancy for some things to turn political. And that point is important. Many things have an inevitable tendancy towards becoming political debate. For most of the 2000s it really seemed like queerness was being detatched from any political connotations, slowly. Until much more recently, this trend has reversed, especially among trans individuals. Which again, tells us that everything has the tendancy towards becoming political issues. So why detach queerness from politics and the very revolutionary act of transforming oneself into an enlightened state just as much as society needs it?

Politics Is Everyday Life, Get Used To It

If I may vent out my frustrations, politics is just a fact of life. You MUST be apart of the discussion process on any issue. Any desire to detach oneself from the act of politics must come from a place of selfishness or immaturaty. But to be fair, it tends to come from an intentional effort to make people disillusioned with politics. Many people feel they have no say amongst politics so why does it matter? And you know what, that's a fair point. It's also fair to say the education hurdles are huge and take a lifetime lf work so why bother?

I Get It, Modern Politics Sucks

Ive talked about this before. Modern political discussion is nothing but arguments and the flexing of knowledge about niche and obscure topics. And once it comes down to it, you're really electing individuals to do the politics for you. Your hope is that they're smart enough to make decisions on your best interest.

But what do these people do? Even if they have at least some semblance of social progressivism it's often very symbolic and often insulting to very real minority groups. "They don’t do enough for me! Why should I bother voting for them?" And those are fair points. It doesn't address anything and just becomes insulting to minority groups and condesending to groups who don’t get it (this I think is a general problem among the left, not just centrists and liberals and is something I want to get into at a later date).

Any imagining of alternatives to current forms of political discussion are often nullified. Instead, we have "debate bros" and two candidates flexing their egos on live TV (for the boomers), and online. They don’t do anything except flex ego, knowledge, and speak about their "truth". I've made this argument before and that's political discussion today is just unhealthy.

Existential Issues Vs. Physical Issues

One problem is that many issues debated are existential or abstract in nature. The debates surrounding queerness, identity, and kids is just too abstract and existential that many minds repel critical thinking. The issues surrounding economy are just too existential and abstract that, again, many minds just repel the possibility of more nuanced discussion. Some people are just on different levels of existance. They can't think past what is familiar to them, this is something I often struggle with and why, for example, philosophy can often be challenging.

But some issues are physical and local. For example, a local river is polluted and a city had to do something about it. Most people would like to get it solved right then and there and be done with it. Then we can move on. Oftentimes, the physical and existential come together. Say climate change or COVID-19. What happens then? They become very mooted existential issues rather than real physical ones as they should.

Why We Need Political Discussion In Communities

In our online spaces there is a tendancy to believe that the internet is not reallife and all discussion of politics should not exist. Instead, the internet is a place to escape to. Which is clearly not the case given much of what goes on here is a reflection of the real world, not against it.

But the number one reason why our communities need political discussion is an obvious one, it's just dangerous to not allow it. I have increasingly seen more and more communities turn away from politics in the most dire times. Which is now. This spells out ignorance, docility, and a quick road to fascism.

It's strange to think people don’t seem to find the contridiction in getting politics out of things when political discussion is essential to a healthy democracy and beyond that, existance regardless of if it's democracy or not. There is often political calls to depoliticize issues when they arrise and this happens a lot in politics. For some examples...

Many Republicans try to decouple politics from mass shootings by using their "thoughts and prayers" as the closest thing to any political action. Many argue for the depoliticization of being queer so they can "live in peace" making the mistake that being queer, let alone HUMAN, is inherently a political thing.

I feel like it's difficult to explain exactly why just existance is political and nobody can disengage from politics and all acts in life are political but I want to try my best to explain...

Why Existence and Everything Is Inherently Political

I think the problem here is what people think of when they hear the word "politics". Perhaps it's a donkey and an elephant. Abortion, taxes, fiscal policy, or foreign policy. But let's bring the word "politics" back to its roots.

"Politics" the word comes from Ancient Greece meaning "affairs of the cities" (I mean this is straight from wikipedia, so you can find this pretty quickly). It's just how decisions are made among groups of people and how power and resources are distributed. Ok, so now the word politics is much more broad, it doesn't just mean GOP vs Democrat. This can include municipal, town, neighborhood, state. And affairs can be like the polluted river example.

So then we as citizens have a political duty to something. Because we are apart of some group or a collection of groups. In this case those groups are AT LEAST family to city to country to the planet. You do politics in just your family alone, what to eat and where, and who is doing the dishes if there's any strict rules to begin with. There are people now doing politics for you, making politics before you, and will after you. What comes out of these collections of historical and present political decisions becomes the environment YOU GROW UP IN.

What does this mean? That you are the product and are influenced by these political decisions and we can throw economic ones in there too because they're connected. The culture you become accustomed to. The communties you interact with, the media you consume each have a taste of those collected political decsions throughout history from Ancient Greece to modern capitalist liberal democracy in 2024. I hope you enjoy my butchered historical materialism. Anyway, I think we can take an EXTREME example of why something seemingly innocuous can be political. Let's take brainrot as an example.

"How The Fuck Is Brainrot Political?!"

If I told you that skibidi sigma rizz was fr fr ong political you'd probably think I was the jonkler from Ohio (I can't believe I said that but Im dying laughing right now). But, let's go through it. How the hell does the collective actions of political decision-making lead to brainrot as a phenomenon?

I think it's easy to imagine how economic and political decisions on young people, large tech companies and their influence in shaping culture through the help of Washington and the capitalist structure rewards this reshaping of young minds with profits to those firms. What matters is an algorithm that brings in the most profits effeciently, effeciently in the neoclassical economist sense, not in an ethical sense.

The content produced by people individually can be seen as an expression of the times. Brainrot and all that shitposting is an expression of the cynicism of contemporary times. A reflection of the absurdity of modern culture, modern economy, modern politics, being self perpetuating through its hypernormalization. The capitalist enterprises take advantage of this and CONTINUE TO PERPETUATE IT. Reinforcing itself. There may have been no intial political intent to create brainrot, but it's existence is a product of all those past and present political decisions.

So I could say that videos of horses eating hay being filmed in a funny angle is political just in an indirect way. The videos created by themselves reflect the political world indirecty, the politics that created the internet, the real world politics shaping internet culture. But once it is recognized and circulated as a meme, it grabs the attention of algorithms and can become commodified and becomes apart of the internet culture. Again, reflecting the absurd nature of the real world. This isn't to say that it can't be entertaining without political or economic context, but that it reinforces cultural and societal attitudes of a given time.

As absurd as this was, I hope this can help people understand what some mean when they say things like "all art is political". It's difficult to fully explain, especially given how abstract it is and how attuned we become to just passively consuming media isolated from current material conditions. This is something I want to talk about further, especially in light of the "controversy" surrounding Tim Cain's (Fallout creator) video and comment on capitalism and Fallout.

So, What Are The Solutions?

We Need To Rethink Political Discussion

Modern political discussion sucks. Watching streamers, drama freaks, and debate bros talk isn't helping and is only good for ragebait. What is the solution? Really, I don’t entirely know but I have some vague ideas.

YouTuber Zoe Bee points out that facts don’t change minds, stories do. And I think that's one place to start. I have said this before that you must introduce people to your world. What you see and think. And you must engage with the other party's world. Try to challenge their world a little bit, you probably won't get anywhere. But you can at least try to humanize your views instead of using facts. And maybe plant a seed in their mind that needs time for growth.

I really think truth is out the window. Again, people love to point out at facts. And what x,y,z person or group did to a,b,c person or group. They will go deeper down the rabbit holes of things and frankly, there's just too many rabbit holes to go down.

Facts and truth don’t matter in the face of information overload, or if they can be whisked away with conspiracy theories, whether true or false. So instead, we need core values and beliefs and to be critical of our inherent beliefs about the world and living as a whole. Not specific issues. If any issues, broader ones.

Communities Need Spaces Where Political Discussion Can Happen

Communties need to foster spaces that allow for political discussion. Perhaps such a platform needs to be heavily moderated and parties need to be aware of the risks involved with engaging in such a space. Which also need solutions. Perhaps the tools we use for allowing political discussion must be shaped in a way that allows for no judgement, allow critique, and reassurance?

Political discussion is the make or break for relationships with people. So we must be vigilant to ensure that we can humanize discussion and ensure our tools for discussion are as well humanized.

These spaces should obviously be seperate from the main community. A little corner where this can take place among a community. Perhaps with an acknowledgement system an agreement to? Unfourtunately some social media platforms make carving out a little corner difficult. Some are easier.

Social Media Networks Should Allow Anonymity

This is more up to those networks rather than people. But anonymity can reduce the burden of being made fun of for certain views, beliefs, opinions, and ideas. Of course, people can make seperate accounts to achieve this, but many people like to keep one account and that's fair. Perhaps there are work arounds to ensure anonymity?

Temporary Indirect Forum Styles

Another idea is to have political discussions be based in forum style to allow people to fully articulate the nuances of their arguments in a single post. Then, instead of getting troll replies, there could be a way in which individuals must respond to those posts via seperate forum posts. Of course, you could just retain the original forum style and just ensure rules are in place that prevent trolls or unenlightening replies. But this idea is mostly to prevent some anxieties associated with how people might react. These forums would also disappear over a set period of time and can be chosen by the creator. Of course, that can have the opposite effect and have people ensure there is a record of posts by screenshotting.

Parties Must Consent

Consent to discussion is key, and opening it up with a friendly demeanor is important. Communities should give consenting parties the space they want to discuss poltical issues, especially with opposing parties.

Political Discussion Coincides With Education

The hurdle of becoming educated in political issues is immense. As I stated way earlier, it can take a lifetime even. We're constantly learning. So political discussion must be a place to educate as well. This is why the flexing of knowledge is quite useless and aggravating because it just leads to snobby remarks and oppression to unlearned parties (you were unlearned once, still are, and always learning). I am still guilty of this habit. It's still heirarchal which must be unlearned. It comes from a place of wanting control.

Once people can see or be a part of discussions and hear from people more knowledgable on things, this can create more thinking people. But it cant be from a place of "dumb vs. smart". Such distinctions don’t exist and if it comes to that point then they can become ad hominem or personal attacks.

Spaces must provide resources or allow people to ask questions and more. Again, humanizing is important.

Conclusion

I want to wrap this up. At the end of the day, we are political creatures interacting with a political world regardless of whatever political system we're in. We must be aware of our mutual dependency on each other and that we don’t need people to do the politics for us. We're better than the debate bros. We're better than to exclude political discussion in our communities. We need it in order for our existence to survive, for minority groups to survive. We must engage critically. Not resign from the world.

[wolfisland]

oh btw update for everyone, aside from my dog not doing Awesome (vet appointment tomorrow though so we'll see) im doing pretty okay. ive set my bedroom up more or less (i still have LOTS of cleaning and unpacking to do, but theres no deadline so ive given myself some time to recuperate) and ive just been catching up on a lot of sleep.

my beds so comfortable. its so fucking comfortable and warm. my dogs just as sleepy as me

[sxfterhearts]

updates!

hi all! so i just wanted to drop by to say a few things :)

the poll winner was jongseob!!! (im not surprised! haha) i have a full length one-shot ive been planning for awhile now so im going to write that and hopefully finish it during the weekend !

i’ve been super mia lately bc of work being super busy and stressful and just all round frustrating, but also pcd and general lack of sleep this entire week :( so apologies for the lack of updates. but im gonna be recuperating this weekend and hopefully spending more time writing!

i’m hoping to post a concert update at some stage too with my fav photos and story times from the concert so stay tuned! (if anyone’s curious i went to the sydney stop last sunday ! hmu if u went as well and drop me an ask or hit up my inbox cos i’d LOVE to yap about it together ❤️)

following from the concert i’ve had some reflections about p1h and p1ece and i’d love to write a post about that as well :) it’s just such a wholesome idol fan relationship (most of the time) and haha there’s some funny story times to be told

anyways thanks for reading <3 if u made it this far hope u have a good day wherever u may be and sending love always!

[candyswirls]

An Eye for an Eye, a Pup for a Pup, Pt 5

TW: mentions of surgical procedures, decapitation, canon typical violence, spoilers for the final battle of Prospero

Here’s the AO3 link if that tickles your fancy

Imho laid on the table as the machines shifted and whirred over him. His wrist had just been wrapped and fresh tears drying on his face. The setting of the wrist had not been pleasant for him.

Finnja’s hearts ached as he had to maneuver it. They usually did until the Larraman surgery. Neophytes tended to have a higher pain tolerance by then.

Imho tried to hold still as the machines built the scan of his body.

The whirring slowed down as the tools went back into rest position and compositions of vascular, muscular, skeletal, and nervous system appeared on the screens.

Finnja studied them with expertise, zooming in on places Imho wouldn’t have thought to. The apothecary took notes and would hum occasionally. His face stayed neutral though.

Imho stayed lying on the table and watched his caretaker? Captor?

Finnja was a large and tall Astartes. Not close to a Primarch height. Though Lord Magnus was the tallest of his brothers. Like Finnja… he was taller than all his brothers. Still, the wolf was massive, yet he worked as an apothecary, or Wolf Priest as the sixth legion called it.

He was terrifying but all the wolves were. He had a thick beard with dark brown hair. Facial hair wasn’t common on Prospero.

Finnja leaned in and squinted at the screen. He zoomed in on the image of his hearts. He hit a button and it began playing as a feed. He replayed it over and over again, zooming in and out of every section.

He watched the wolf go over to where a lab was and check various test tubes.

He came back over, “When was your last surgery?”

“J-just four weeks ago,” Imho answered.

“Bioscopea?”

Imho nodded.

The wolf checked over his notes then came over to the table.

“Sit up and remove your shirt,” Finnja ordered. “I need to feel how the scars and organs are doing.”

He removed his gauntlets and Imho slowly did as he was told.

Space Wolves had a higher body temperature. He almost swore Finnja was burning as he felt his abdomen and chest and the scars that ran along it.

Imho refused to look down at the strange words those wolves had carved into him. They had burned as they did it. His soul had felt bruised ever since.

Imho flinched as Finnja pressed into a muscle a bit hard. Not letting up even as Imho whined in pain. He let out a sigh as the wolf moved onto the next.

After a few more checks and inspecting him, the wolf concluded.

“Your second heart is failing,” the wolf deduced. “Was there any reports of bad geneseed or organs that you can recall?”

Imho shook his head, trying hard not to despair at the shocking news.

“I will have to see it first hand,” Finnja muttered. “Luckily it’s an easy replacement, especially this early in the process. You’re only in phase three. Your body will adjust well to it after some rest and recuperation. One of my brothers is very skilled with hearts.”

Imho rolled onto his side, holding his queasy stomach. The second heart surgery had been the worst to recover from so far.

Finnja didn’t say much as he attached IVs of a new blood bag and saline drip. Imho’s stomach swirled and then lurched. Finnja was right there with something for him to empty his stomach contents into. Imho coughed and tears welled in his eyes. Stomach acid burned his throat as he choked up the remaining bits.

He laid his head on the side of the bin, breathing heavily as his stomach decided whether or not to fully purge itself.

Finnja moved his hair out of his face. He rubbed circles into Imho’s back. Imho wanted to move away from him but he felt so sick and the hand was gentle and caring.

His stomach lurched again. There was nothing left in him now.

He shivered on the cold examination table. Everything about the Space Wolves seemed cold. Their ship, their demeanor, how ruthless they were. He wanted to be back home on Prospero. The warm wind whipping hot sands. The sun beaming down on him. The familiarity of it.

Finnja took off his fur cloak and draped it around Imho. He pulled it around himself, remembering how warm it felt before.

Finnja took the bin.

“I’m taking a sample from this,” he announced. “Just in case.”

Imho just nodded, exhaustion wracking his body. He slowly fell over till he was lying down again, shifting to have the cloak be a barrier between him and the cold metal.

The despair grew. He was stuck here. If he wanted to live, he’d end up fighting for the very army that just destroyed his home. His family.

Tears streamed across his nose and cheek, before dropping onto the cloak.

He flinched as he heard the door to the apothercarium open.

He winced at the harshness of Fenrisian. He recognized Finnja’s name being said. Finnja answered back quickly and then dismissed the wolf.

“I will inform my brother and see when he can perform the surgery,” he told Imho, “I will see you after you wake up.”

“You won’t be there?” Imho asked, alarmed.

“No,” Finnja answered, “I am being called to assist my brothers and fulfill my duty as a wolf priest. You’ll see your fellow neophytes in the meantime and meet your new brothers.”

Imho could have sworn he felt himself shrink. Seeing his fellow neophytes, his friends, would be good. But the Space Wolf neophytes?

Finnja left him in the apothecarium and another Wolf Priest came in. He was shorter and had a stern look. Imho wanted to run and hide. Serfs and servitor accompanied him. He was less than kind with his examination. Imho hadn’t realized how gentle and careful Finnja was.

He broke down and the older wolf scolded him.

“Your tears will get you nowhere,” he said sternly. “Wolves don’t cry. We howl.”

He wanted to retort back that he wasn’t a wolf but he kept quiet.

“Let’s begin,” the old wolf grumbled. “You remember how it goes?”

“Wait, right now?” Imho questioned. “We’re doing the surgery now?”

“Aye,” he answered. “Your stomach is empty, I have other neophytes to tend to besides you, and soon I’ll be taking care of multiple of my brethren. Now is the perfect time. Quit whining. We need to put you in the surgical clothes.”

Imho couldn’t help but cry again. The Thousand Sons had you mentally prepare before undergoing surgery. Special psychic rituals to put your mind at ease.

A serf unhooked the IV tubes, allowing him to take off his shirt. He felt exposed and vulnerable. The Wolf tossed him a strange garment. After turning it over a few times a serf came over to help him put it on. It was like an apron or casual wear on Prospero.

“Do you still recall the aftercare instructions?” The wolf priest asked.

Imho nodded.

“Good,” the wolf priest muttered as he motioned Imho onto the surgical slab. “The other neophytes will help care for you afterwards. Up here. I’m not coddling you like Finnja does.”

“Uh, my-my wrist,” Imho said while holding it up.

“Hmm.”

The wolf picked him up under the arms and onto the surgical slab. It was significantly warmer.

He laid down as serfs attached the IV again and then other tubes and wiring. They then placed an oxygen mask over his face.

“Count backwards from ten,” The Wolf said.

Imho did so and never made it to six.

Everything was dark. He was in a pitch black void. He breathed heavily, seeing his breath billow out somehow.

He walked across shallow water, it rippled until it froze. He shivered and pulled his silk shawl closer around him. It did little for warmth.

He flinched as he saw the shadows of wolves run past. The howls echoed. He took off running. The shadows followed. He tried to fend them off with psychic attacks but flames burst on his skin, fading to be the runes that hard been carved into it. He couldn’t use his power!

He ran faster and faster, water splashing, their breath on his heels, the whirring of chain swords, the pounding of ceramite on the ground. Tears escaped his eyes. Why shouldn’t he cry? He was only eleven!

The air grew thick with smoke and fires bloomed out of the doors and windows of every home in Tizca. He ran towards his house. It was engulfed in flames. His mother lay dead in the doorway. She was decapitated. A space wolf stood there, holding her head. He howled, fangs protruding, fierce yellow eyes.

Imho screamed in agony and rage as he charged the Astartes. Somehow he had his knife in his hand. Every combat lesson he’d been given thus far worked with muscle memory as he stabbed the wolf through the weak points of his armor.

The wolf fell and Imho dropped to his mother’s body, sobbing. He picked the head to see the red hair cascading. One single eye closed. Sliced cleanly by the blade of Leman Russ.

“Father!” Imho cried out as he cradled his Primarch’s large head in his arms.

Why? Why?! Why?! Why did the emperor send the Space Wolves?! Why were they ordered to execute his legion? His planet? What did they do?? Why did they deserve this?! Why didn’t they know about the attack??

He had seen the bombardment. Destroying everything outside of the psychic barrier. He’d heard the legion brothers. Why hadn’t Father known? Where was Father? Magnus the Red, please!

Wind blew the flames into him and he saw flashes of his legion brethren fighting. Ahzrek Ahriman, Iskander Khayon, Amon, even apothecary Mshai who had already perished.

Flames swept around him till he stood watching his Primarch battling the Wolf King of Fenris. It was vicious and brutal. Imho couldn’t move, trapped in the fire. His own Primarch punched his brother with psychic powered fists. He destroyed the two wolves alongside the Wolf King. A blade was swiped across his Primarch’s eye. The Wolf King managed to lift the great sorcerer and broke him across his knee.

Imho yelled and sobbed uncontrollably as he saw bits of his Primarch’s soul splinter off of him, cascading across the warp. Imho caught as many pieces as he could, cradling then in his hands.

“Father,” he choked.

Phantoms of Magnus reached out to him from them. Calling to him.

Imho. Beloved son. Little one. My neophyte. Sweet child. Precious one. Imhotep. My prodigy. Youngest son.

He faded away as a spell was completed through Ahriman. The remainder of his legion brothers were transported away into the warp. Saved. Escaping execution.

He felt the pull of it. Willing him to come. He wanted to follow. He would have! But the words carved into him burned, holding him back like shackles. He screamed in agony and despair as he was tethered there.

Don’t leave him! Please! Father! Take me with you! I’m loyal! I’m strong! I have power!

He dropped to his knees, crying as the ache in his hearts grew. Not just grief and sadness, but actual pain. It was becoming unbearable. He couldn’t breathe! It wouldn’t stop!

His eyes flashed open and he screamed as he desperately tried to sit up, knocking over trays of tools. Hands held him down.

Standing over him was a wolf skull. A space wolf. One of the very ones who had destroyed his home.

He screamed in terror, especially as pain bloomed in his chest. His cut open chest, hearts exposed.

He screamed and felt the world sway. He punched a serf and they went flying back. He was still a neophyte and had already grown bigger. Psychic waves bloomed from him. But the wolf wouldn’t let him move and the world blurred as he went unconscious again.

***

Odavig stood back from the neophyte, now that he was sedated under anesthetic again. The oldest serving serf, Anga, lay unconscious. Possibly dead from that punch.

He had barely began removing the damaged second heart. Then the neophyte awoke. Absolutely no warning. He was in the middle of surgery! He had been heavily under anesthesia! How did he wake up?! Those psychic waves!

“Clean everything up!” He ordered. “Is Anga alive?”

“Aye,” she grunted as she struggled to stand.

“Take her out of here,” Odavig ordered. “We need to finish. Is the anesthesia working properly or not?”

“It is my Lord,” the serf said quickly. “I-I do no-“

“Hush,” Odavig said. “Neither do I. We continue the surgery. We will deal with this later. Finnja will sort it out.”

Once everything settled, he went back to removing the old heart, the quicker he got the new one in, the better.

[cinnasaur]

imngjm. i think water has been leaking up through my floor and it's not Flooded or anything but i don't have a proper bedframe so the whole end of my bed got soaked the other day and it's still not dry and i don't know what i can do about it.

my bed was already making me really uncomfortable so it's extremely miserable to try to sleep on like this and i don't really have anything i can cover it up with (ive tried a couple things and they don't stay in place and just get wet anyway) . i haven't found the source of the leak yet and even if i do i don't know what to do from there... i don't even have enough money for food let alone however much of an expense this might be. i was already stressed out and not feeling well before this and hoping i could just settle down and relax and recuperate this weekend.. can i please catch a break please ):

now i feel so. sooo wiped out and insanely anxious and my feet are wet and im cold and i really badly just want to get out of this place at this point. i'm gonna lose it

[virtie333]

Day 12 - Life Day Damerey Celebration

Prompt: Warm

Summary: Rey will never get used to the cold. Fortunately, she knows just how to get warm.

Warnings: Rey abusing her husband. Just kidding. Just fluff and humor.

AO3

Rey trudged through the mud, head down so the hood of her parka kept the rain out of her face, gratefully heading for home.

The majority of the year the weather on Yavin IV was hot and humid, with the occasional storm that dumped warm rain for several minutes before allowing the sun to come back out. However, for about three months of the year, what the Yavinese called ‘winter’ occurred. The true rainy season, where the sun was a rare visitor and the temperatures, though never dipping below the freezing point, were far from hot.

As much as Rey appreciated the lush, green jungles of Yavin’s largest moon, the winter season reminded her too much of Ach-To and the constant cold she had to deal with during her short stay there years ago. Despite her distaste for the winter season’s cold, she had learned to take advantage of it and use it to help train her students. Every year for the last three years (since she had started her training school) she took her first-year students on a three-day excursion through the jungle. She taught them how to live off the land, how to find their way without the sun or the stars to guide them, and how to navigate the terrain that was much more challenging than normal due to the constant rain and mud. They learned how to build shelters and keep a fire going despite the wet. And they learned how to meditate among the discomfort and distractions.

This year she had three students between the ages of six and ten with her, and they had done well, especially considering two were thin-skinned humans like herself, and the other was a Mirialan, a species that was used to a very dry atmosphere. At the end of the third day, Rey led her charges back to the compound not far from the Grand Temple where she had set up her training center. One by one, she dropped the children off at their homes, making sure their parent or guardian was aware of how well they had done and that they had the next couple of days off from training to rest and recuperate. Finally, all three children were home safe, and Rey was able to go home herself.

She was exhausted, but she had worked hard to make sure her students didn’t know. While they had slept restlessly during the past two nights, Rey had not slept at all, and she was feeling that lack of sleep now. She was physically drained, and she was freezing. She wondered if she would ever truly adjust to weather that was anything but hot. She finally reached the little cabin she called home, punching in the code and slipping inside as the door slid open.

She immediately toed off her muddy boots, then pulled off the slicker, hanging it on a hook by the door. Though she knew the house was warm, she still felt chilled, and she moved quickly through the kitchen and down the hall to her bedroom. She saw BB8’s photoreceptor light up as he sensed movement from where he was charging next to DO. She gave him a brief wave and smile, letting him know she was home and okay. He beeped a happy little welcome, then powered down again.

Rey quickly began to undress. Though her poncho had been waterproof, her clothing still felt damp and clammy. There was no way to stay completely dry when out in this weather all the time. As she pulled off her leggings, her teeth began to chatter. She removed her tunic and underthings, then pulled her hair out of its ties, shaking her head and running her fingers through the strands, giving her scalp a quick rub. She ached to jump in the shower and stand under the hot water for a long time, but she was so tired. Sleep called to her more, but she knew she wouldn’t sleep unless she warmed up.

And she knew what would do that just as well as a hot shower.

With a soft sigh, she skipped over to the bed, pulled the blankets up, and slipped under them, tucking herself up against the human furnace already laying there.

“Kriffing hell, Rey!” Poe Dameron shouted as Rey’s cold skin woke him up. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m cold!” she said with a bit of a whine in her voice.

“Yeah, you are!” he agreed. “You’re a farking ice cube!”

“You’re warm!” she continued, still huddling against him despite his stiff position. Her body shivered violently and her teeth chattered.

“Crik,” Poe whispered, then he relaxed, arranged the blankets so they were both fully covered, and wrapped both his arms and legs around her.

Rey immediately felt warmer, and soon her shivering stopped. It wasn’t long before she began to drift off to sleep, lulled by the rhythmic heartbeat of her husband, best friend…

And personal heater.