#I mean no offense but I do like seeing discussion about this stuff

[hyperkitten224]

I have many thoughts about the newest SAMS lore episode

what does all of this mean. why is the creator communicating with himself across time and space. was the scan just a scan. did Sun actually get the cure. are they actually gonna cure Ruin. whaaaaaaaaaaat

[lxciferuss]

Ms. Ackerman

Summary: Levi's newest Squad and yours are both bickering about the humanities strongest soldier's questionable relationship status. They however didn't imagine he'd be married, and to you out of all people.

Warnings: Husband!Levi x Fem!Captain!Wife!Reader. Swearing. Teenagers arguing about dumb stuff. Reader is around Levi's age so it's all legal. "S/N" stands for (your) Squad's Name. SFW!

English isn't my first language, so sorry for any mistakes. Enjoy!

The distant chatter echoed through the bricked walls to the main hall, where the members of Squad Levi, without their captain, were engaged on a—way too serious—debate about Levi's love-life. Not even the thick, tall wooden doors were able to muffle the constant screams of disagreement between the cadets.

"No! There's no way in hell he's even had his first kiss. Ever!" Connie argued against Mikasa, who was the most hopeful for her Captain and his private issues. She was sat between Eren and Armin, calmly sipping on a cup of freshly brewed coffee while silently enyojing the discussion.

"To be honest, I doubt anyone would ever want to be with him. Have you seen the way he glares at everybody?" Jean jumped in, his face contortioned into an expression of fear and disgust together. "I would not speak a word to him, man or woman."

"I highly doubt he'd even look your way, Jean. You might even be some sort of omen in his day to day." One of your soldiers said, entering the warm, barely lit room. The rest of your squad got in after him, sitting themselves down on the wooden table so to accompany the teenagers. Some others decided to prop themselves up against the wall as there was no space left on the benches.

"My condolences to whoever might be his partner." They all laughed together, even Sasha—who was previously too busy stealing away Connie's dinner to even listen.

"Who's partner are y'all bullying now?" Levi's tone was annoyed and raspy, he glared at the group of cadets that were out, past their bedtime, being obnoxiously loud despite their superior's orders to hush.

His squad froze in fear, stopping all movements as if he couldn't see them that way. Eren gulped, thick, wide eyes looking back at his captain.

Your squad just shut up, smug smiles still plastered all over their faces. They knew better than to try and explain themselves out of Levi's punishment.

"Go spend your time on something wise. This stupid bickering is gonna do nothing to that smooth brain of yours." He sighed, eyebrows knitted together on a deep frown. For times like this he almost regretted choosing a bunch of teens to be part of his mighty squad. Almost.

"I mean- C'mon Captain. When are you gonna tell us 'bout your love li- ow!" Springer held the back of his head, which had been smacked by Mikasa in an attempt to shut him up before he doomed them all.

"Hm?" Levi lifted an eyebrow, wide eyes looking at the group in front of him. He decided to go and make some tea in hopes of freeing himself from the situation.

"Like- Have you got a girlfriend...boyfriend...ever?" Jean spoke and his teamed groaned in defeat. Fifty laps around the training fields weren't sounding so terrible now.

Levi huffed, rolling his eyes as his lips touched the steaming hot liquid on his porcelain cup. He shook his head in disbelief, acting deaf to the questions.

"No offense, Captain, we just don't see you as someone who would have a romantic partner, that's all." Another soldier of yours spoke, nervously tapping their foot on the ground.

"Again, i do not see why my life should be a matter of yours." He sat down on the table besides the younger's, crossing his legs and resting his arm on the back of the wooden chair.

"Please! We want to know!" Sasha whined, mouth full of rice, which made Levi scrunch his nose up in disgust.

Another deep sigh left through his nose, deciding to answer the kids and put an end to the conversation asap.

"If I tell you, will you shut the fuck up?" He groaned, massing his temple with his free hand.

His squad and yours both beamed with happiness, nodding excitedly at the Captain's will to reveal a fact so private.

"Such a pain in the ass." He muttered under his breath, lowering his cup on the table. "I don't have a girlfriend."

Jean's laugh resonated through the walls, hitting Armin in the back and shaking him violently. "I was right! You heard, Mikasa? He doesn't even have a-"

"I'm married; I have a wife."

And suddenly, the room was silent. Mouths agape, the teens turned to look at him, expecting to see some sort of hint of lying on his face.

Levi resumed his tea-drinking, eager to get both teams back to their dorms sooner than ever.

"Sorry, I just- What kind of person would marry you?" A cadet of yours asked, her face still portraying a big shock.

"Why don't you ask your captain instead?"

"Ask me what?" You entered the room with a wide smile, all twelve soldiers automatically saluting. "Captain" you greeted Levi with a deeper voice. He nodded back to you.

"They were asking what kind of person would marry me." His grey eyes glinted as he looked at you, leather straps still attached around your body.

"Oh?" You let out a small giggle, sitting down on top of the table Levi was at, not bothering to pull out a chair. "And what kind of person do you think I am?"

If Jean's jaw was already on the floor, it would easily reach the cellar on the basement below them after the big revelation. Even your squad was a loss of words, exchanging glances between each other.

"Squad Levi, S/N, you are dismissed." Your smile widened at their faces.

"But-"

"Now." Levi's stern voice made everyone rush out of the dinning hall and get back to their dorm room.

"Time you set some limits." You shoved him in the shoulder, a smug grin adorning your lips.

"Time I get a new Squad." He murmured as you both got up and slowly left the hall too, enjoying the rare peace and quiet of the headquarters at night.

[sleepyhutcherson]

while we were getting high

“how many special people change? how many lives are living strange? where were you while we were getting high?” — ‘champagne supernova’ by oasis.

pairing: clapton davis x gn!reader

word count: 1.1k words

summary: where clapton and you get high almost every weekend except this time some words are exchanged.

tags: fluff, smoking, underage smoking, marijuana use (not mentioned though), honestly the smoking part isn’t really in detail but they’re high, best friends to lovers, oasis being praised and blur hate (i do not condone!), use of y/n, feelings being confessed sort of?

author’s note: i should be working on requests but i really had to urge to write for clapton since there is barely any content for him. why am i writing a fic about smoking when i have asthma. there’s brief discussion/debate about which of two bands are better (the bands being oasis and blur) but is that worth tw? like i feel like some people (by what ive seen) can take that stuff really seriously but i really don’t mean any hate towards oasis nor especially blur, i simply think that clapton would definitely be the type of guy to get into a debate over bands, or which band is better in this case, but don’t take anything seriously!

Your focus is not on Clapton’s rambling, instead you’re drawn to the familiar glow in the dark stars that stick to his ceiling within the many band posters he stuck up there. You’ve counted these stars several times before as this wasn’t your first time getting high in his bedroom.

You groan when you hear the same song start again from Clapton’s Ipod. He was the type of person that would obsess over a song and play it nonstop until he grew tired of it. His latest victim: ‘Champagne Supernova’ by Oasis. You don’t know how he hasn’t grown tired of listening to it on repeat, I mean, you have already! “Do we really have to listen to it again?” You whine, shifting around uncomfortably in his twin sized bed. The two of you were pressed up against each other, it was incredibly uncomfortable and yet you both always ended up in his bed for some reason.

A dumb smile curls up on his lips that you manage to catch briefly before returning your gaze back at his stupid ceiling. You don’t know why your heart quickens but you blame it on the amount of weed you smoked. I mean, it was probably that. “Yes, come on, Y/N, this is music! Real music.”

“‘Real music’?” You question, only to piss him off. A part of you liked seeing him angry, honestly. And you knew just how to push his buttons.

“Yeah. Unless you can name a better band.” Clapton challenges with an arrogant voice.

You could name so many other bands that have had a better discography than Oasis but you choose to name the band that you knew would rile him up. With a grin on your lips now you answer with what he would consider the worst band to name in this scenario.

“Blur.”

The words strike Clapton. Maybe he was being dramatic but honestly he found your choice offensive. He props himself on his elbows, no longer laying down completely. His face is scrunched up with slight disgust and confusion, an expression that resembles a child who’s just had a taste of a lime. “Blur?” He says with disgust in the word.

“Yeah,” you reply with a calm attitude. “They’re pretty good.” You continue to look up at the ceiling but Christ would you love to see the look on his face. “Better than Oasis.” You add for good measure.

You don’t know what reaction you expected from him, or well you did. You figured he would go on a long rant you wouldn’t be able to escape about how Oasis was in fact better than Blur. You did not, however, expect him to get on top of you, it’s so swift and sudden that you don’t even know how to respond. He pins your hands on either side of your head, your eyes now meeting his dark, mischievous eyes. Was he…grinning?!

Now you’re confused.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” he teases, his body pressed up against yours. This is…not good. It feels good, sure, but Clapton was on top of you. Clapton, your best friend who you’ve known since grade seven. “We both know you’re just saying that to get a reaction from me.”

His hands grip onto your wrist, holding you in place. It doesn’t hurt, or maybe you just liked how he held you down. “Am I?” You play along, acting dumb.

His grin only deepens, his eyes frantically flickering from your eyes to your lips, your own eyes glued to his pretty pink lips. Fuck this wasn’t good. “You are,” his voice is deep now, a tease in his tone.

Before you know it, he’s inching closer to you. His fucking grin mocking you. “Clapton, we—“ shouldn’t, you think about saying but fuck, fuck, fuck his lips were grazing the skin of your neck now, his warm breath tickling you a bit. And that stupid song was still playing!

His thumb softly traces circles around one of your wrist. A part of you wishes your hands weren’t restrained down so you could tangle one in his hair. “We what?” He asks, his breath hitting your delicate skin.

“We—“ you can’t even finish. He doesn’t let you, his lips gently pressing a soft kiss against your neck, one that makes you tense up. Such an innocent kiss and yet that locked you. He continues to pepper gentle kisses on your neck, it’s so pure and sweet, especially when you feel his smile in each kiss.

“I’ve wanted this for so long now,” he admits before continuing to kiss your neck, his thumb continuing to trace around your wrists.

“You have?” You ask. A part of you thinks about telling him that you’ve secretly wanted this too for a bit now.

He stops to look at you now, his cocky grin replaced by a gentle smile. He nods with such a soft expression on his face. “Mm-hmm. I thought about what it would be like to kiss you every day, even while we were getting high.”

A crimson colour tints your cheeks. Clapton smiles more at that. God, you look so lovely now: flustered and underneath him, his hands wrapped around your wrists, your eyes boring into his. He would gladly count every eyelash, memorise every colour that paints your eyes.

“You’re high.” You giggle trying to play it off, though you don’t try to move away. Not that you could due to how he was holding you down.

“Yeah, you are too,” he says with a soft chuckle. His eyes don’t leave yours, he desperately wants to hold your gaze for as long as he can, honestly. “But even when I’m not high I still adore you.”

Fuck.

Your eyes widen a little, your mouth slightly hanging open due to his words. Clapton grins at that and before you can say anything else, he leans down to kiss you. Your lips move with his, not resisting his lips. You honestly don’t think you’d be capable of resisting him after all of this.

One of his hands laces with yours, the other still pinning you against the mattress. He continues to kiss you and he really doesn’t want to stop. He’s desperately craved this for so long now. He smiles in the kiss then, realising he has the privilege of kissing you.

His smile felt so great against your lips.

After some time you both pull away, a huge dumb smile on Clapton’s face that makes you smile at how adorable he looks. He plops down, laying his head against your chest, wanting to be near you for longer. You don’t even have to kiss, you really don’t have to do anything but be close to him. That’s really all he wants. All he’s ever wanted from you.

taglist: @cancelledkaley @stanheights-boyfriend @ploty-twist @jhutch-bf @laurrrelise @joshfutturman @gryffindorsblog @sofiehutch @obsessivemuso-withnofriends @helen-on-earth @fallingboba @cassiecasluciluce @maticka @jhutchissupercool ♡︎

[yuri-is-online]

You, I, and the Wall (Azul, Jade, and Floyd x Yuu)

You lie on the ground taking deep breaths, searching around you for three objects you can name while you try to force your ears to tune into the noises around you. The three boys surrounding you look concerned, almost like you're crying but you can't really bring yourself to care right now. It's not like they care anyway, you think; an upset person is just inconvenient to deal with.

"It's my fault." You try to reassure them with a shaky breath. "I'm the one who made the mistake of feeling safe."

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, heavy angst, SPOILERS FOR CH. 4, specifically how Jamil's UM might make someone feel (as in not good, forcing someone to do stuff they do not want to is not nice). If you like this please check out my masterlist here (x)

Floyd

"I bet you'd rather be talkin to Crabby right now, huh?" Floyd almost sounds self depreciating, there's a haze of tears clouding your judgment that makes him feel a bit safer in his vulnerability. "Sorry I'm all that's here right now." He makes sure to stay just far enough from you that you don't feel like he's crowding your personal space, but close enough that there's a barrier between you and the door the Scarabia students fled through. If those guppies thought there was any sort of excuse for putting you into this state he would accept, well there wasn't. If they thought he had forgotten their faces they had a gigantic storm coming, but he needed to make sure you were alright first. Hurricane's can't start until the eye is calm.

"I tried calling Ace, he didn't answer." Your voice sounds so unlike you, weak and tired. "Same with Deuce."

"Ha, dunno about Mackey but Crabby's definitely scratching at the walls if you told him you're in trouble." He means it, and he hates how he knows it will calm you down. Floyd doesn't like the sidelines, that's where Jade thrives, not him. Being jealous that Ace is calming you down even though he's not here is petty and kind of pathetic. But he can't help it, the way he moves and looks is scary, but surely if he looks at you long enough you'll realize-

"You ain't gotta believe me now," he mumbles to himself, slowly shuffling closer to you, satisfying his urge to squeeze by pinching your cheek, "already knew I was gonna have to work on that, but I don't ever want to see you like this again." Finally you look at him instead of away; you are confused and tired but finally comfortable enough to let your exhaustion put you to sleep. He used to think he loved every face you could make, and he can't say he never wants to see you scared because of how cute you look spooked, but this, this wasn't fun. You'll just have to let him be the only one to scare you from here on out, he thinks, gently picking you up off the ground to take you somewhere more comfortable.

Jade

To be fair, Jade had expected you to try hitting him a lot sooner than this. He also had to admit it was extremely... lovely of you to have enough control over yourself to stop just before landing the blow.

"No fighting in the lounge, that's the rule right?" Your entire body is tense, even as you retract the fist and retreat into yourself, away from the table, away from him. Azul laughs awkwardly while pushing forward in discussing the Scarabia situation, but Jade keeps his eyes on you.

"Of course for a magicless person like yourself there would be no way to resist being hypnotized. Really someone could have given you whatever orders they wanted to and ordered you not to remember-"

In hindsight maybe, compared to some of the other observations he has voiced out loud, that one was a touch harsh.

"I am quite sorry if I caused offense." He says. Still tense, you take in a deep shuddering breath, winding up for something. His hands fold contentedly, wondering if you will try to hit him again. Given his comments, he doesn't mind letting you.

"Fuck off." You sound so small you want to die but the shock that unwinds on his face is somewhat satisfying. He wonders, as you try to walk away again, just how it would feel to be powerless to say no. To be small and alone in a world you don't belong in, forced to do something by someone against your will and then made fun of by someone strikingly similar for not being able to protect yourself.

It's an ugly thought, but he wonders if anyone has ever made you feel this small before, if he is making you feel that small now.

"I did not say what I did to mock you." Jade is surprised by the strength of his conviction, and how little he thinks to blame you if you choose not to forgive him. "If the thought of that person's magic scares you, please stay close to Floyd. He will be able to keep you safe." To his great relief some tension leaves your shoulders, and he dares to risk a step forward. "I should hope this goes without saying, but what happened to you was not your fault, nor was it acceptable."

"You trying to say Octavinelle has a monopoly on exploiting me?" There's an edge to the question that will take time to dull, but your ire seems less pointed at him now.

"I'm suggesting you simply look at our involvement as a form of revenge." He means it, though he knows you are in no position to tell just yet. That's quite alright, he knows himself. He can wait.

Azul

"Please wait!" Azul is surprised you don't break into a sprint, but then you don't slow down or stop either, stubbornly insistent on moving towards Ramshackle Dorm. You allow him to walk next to you, ignoring the huffs of stress in his breath.

"What do you want Azul?" No no no this is all wrong, you compliment his efforts after seeing him at his worst and now you're icing him out? Sure, he knew entertaining the idea you could be friends, genuine ones, was too good to be true but seeing it go up in foam in front of him was still painful.

"What did you mean feeling safe was a mistake?" He knows Jamil, in theory anyway, they're in a complicated place right now. Or maybe always but that's besides the point. There was a reason behind all of this he is sure you will likely find sympathetic enough to forgive, but if you are in this much pain why should you? Not that he has a say in it, but why should he let you?

"What do you want Azul?" You just repeat yourself, nails digging into the palms of your hand in a way that looks so painful he can't stop himself from reaching to pull them towards him. It keeps you from running the next couple feet to the mirror, both of you forced to look at the bleeding dents in your palms in a mixture of shame and remorse. He's too distressed to express himself, moving to firmly hold both of your hands with one of his while the other searches for his magic pen. 'What do yo-"

"A chance." Magic soothes the pain as Azul works to close the admittedly tiny wounds with the same determined focus he shows his studies. "All I have ever wanted is a chance." He doesn't say at what, you get a feeling he doesn't really know what he is asking for right now himself. But with how he refuses to mention payment as he puts away his magic pen, just continues to hold you in place, you think you could maybe eventually understand.

"I'll give you one." You swallow hoarsely, taking away your hands from his as he tries to pretending he didn't memorize their warmth.

"It's a deal then," he means that as a joke you think, but there's a bit of his normal showmanship and pride you find oddly comforting now "I promise you, one is all I'll need."

[wordsinhaled]

for the love of... i don’t even know what to invoke??? don’t send neil gaiman asks about ships and don’t drag him into fandom purity culture bullshit oh my god

HE DOESN’T WANT TO BE INVOLVED IN FANDOM why is that so hard for people to understand???

listen neil gaiman is a queer ally but that doesn’t mean he signed up to be the fucking arbiter of whether or not you are allowed to ship dream and the corinthian, or any other characters, for that matter

the actual truth is if you want to you can and absolutely no one should stop you, least of all the author himself, who already gives us not only loads of canon queer representation but also full carte blanche to interpret his work any way we see fit and leave him out of it (as is his right)

if you lack the contextual comprehension to understand that dream’s creations are only his metaphorical children, the endless are siblings but are probably only loosely related (because they’re all personifications of concepts after all), and also people are allowed to have kinks without personally harming you, then like... perhaps figure all of that out before you harass shippers to the point where they feel the need to go to authors for validation

and on top of that the same people who are purportedly so concerned with stuff like boundaries and barriers and comfort and whatever are making some fans feel so needlessly harassed that they in turn cross an author’s very reasonable boundary of wanting to be minimally involved in the interpretation of his own work

on top of all of that it is wild to me that the queer community has become so overtaken with this moralizing rhetoric that neil, of all people, is now being called on to enforce purity culture by members of our own family??? i am not calling him flawless by any means but this is the same neil gaiman who has been under fire since the literal 1980s from right-wing groups that felt that the sandman was too queer or too radical or too generally threatening to the conservative status quo, yet he still stood fast to his creative vision and to including representation of our community in the comics

like. the same neil who wrote “death talks about life” and was working to normalize and destigmatize queerness before some of the folks imposing purity culture on his works were even born???

it’s just like... abundantly clear from some of this Discourse that some of the folks putting forth this vitriol toward shippers and now unnecessarily extending the discussion to him do not have an understanding of our history. these are the same people who try to tell people the labels they’ve been using for themselves for 20, 30, 40 years are wrong or offensive, who try to isolate groups within the community and create barriers between queer elders and queer youth because of perceived predatoriness that simply isn’t there. and i wish these folks would gain a little understanding of the context, touch some grass, meet some queer folks out in the world and stop acting like this

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hello Cas I've wanted to ask this for a while and I didn't know who to ask and I'm hoping you can help, I see a lot of posts about how we shouldn't allow AI to study fanary and fanfiction and I wanted to k ow why I'm just curious and want to understand I see its a boundary for a lot of people and I don't really get why. I mean nothing hurtful or offensive and I'm sure there is a good reason I just don't know it. Also I wanted to tell you that I think it's soo cool how you do ballroom dancing as a hobby and how much I love your microfics I look forward to them everyday much love ❤️

Hi! No problem at all! There's a few reasons.

First, AI creating fanart and fanfiction is super harmful because it reduces the demand for human-created works. Which is horrible, because humans spend so much time and effort writing and drawing, while AI can do the same in minutes. AI works always have flaws, and by increasing the supply of works, it gives human creators less credit for the amazing and superior work they do, that they spend a lot more time on.

Think of it like fast fashion- people want clothes so bad they'll take the cheap, factory-made stuff, but they don't realize that this causes poorly-made clothes to be the norm, and it takes money (credit) away from designers, workers and everyone else in the industry. (It's also horrible for the planet.)

Creators deserve so much love and credit for what they do, because it isn't easy, and to be replaced in minutes by a machine that creates work that isn't as good is upsetting and insulting, you know? AI gives the illusion that with a few clicks of a button, anyone can instantly create something akin to the work I spent 10 months on, and that's just not true.

Second, using fanfiction to train AI isn't okay because, simply put, it's stealing. If someone uses my writing to train AI, they didn't ask me, and I essentially did labor for them by writing the work they're using- I deserve pay (though I wouldn't want it, I would rather them just not use my work, because of reason three).

Third, it's also important to know the reason why people are so touchy about a lot of fanfiction issues is copyright laws. When we start sell fanfiction, bind and sell fanfiction, etc (which sometimes AI users do) it could bring up issues with copyright infringement, because we're making money from creating work from a copywritten work. This might allow fanfiction to be censored and policed, which would basically ruin the entire thing.

Last, it just takes the humanity from it. Fandom is supposed to be a community. Writers, artists, and readers all work together on so many different forums to create works and discuss their favorite fandoms. To me, it just feels icky that people want to take away that community (intentionally or not) by computerizing the process.

I hope this all makes sense, and feel free to add things, guys!

[cecilysass]

Shine On (4/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 4: The Art of Profiling

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 20, 2015

The pizza that Fox Mulder ordered isn’t from a pizza place Jackson has ever heard of, like Domino’s or Pizza Hut, but it’s really good anyway. Or at least it tastes good to someone who hasn’t eaten all day. Jackson eats the first piece really quickly, then he grabs for a second without thinking, forgetting his manners. When he realizes what he’s done, he hesitates.

“Go for it,” the older man says, his eyes darting sharply back and forth between the pizza and Jackson’s face. “Eat as much as you want.”

Fox Mulder has been acting much more intense ever since Jackson told him about the red-headed lady.

Jackson’s tired, and he has only barely skimmed the surface of the man’s difficult mind, but he can tell that the guy’s stunned by the news. Fox Mulder’s mind is channeling down a dozen different paths right now: fast, mazelike thoughts, like bobsleds going down tracks. A current of sharp worry running through like a winter chill.

It’s honestly exhausting to try to figure out. Jackson closes off the shine for now, takes another big bite of pizza. This sausage is a little spicy, which is exactly how he likes it.

“I have a lot of questions for you,” Fox Mulder says, his voice low. “I don’t want to overwhelm you. But I … gotta ask some of them.”

Jackson nods reluctantly, his mouth full. He doesn’t feel like answering questions at all. Still, he supposes the more he gets out of the way, the better.

“You said you have visions,” the man says, setting his own piece of pizza down. “Do you have other … abilities?”

Jackson studies him cautiously as he finishes chewing his bite of pizza. He’s not in the habit of discussing what he can do. It’s only really ever been trouble when he has, so he’s almost instinctively secretive about it. But things are different now. And Fox Mulder, well, he seems to know all about this kind of thing.

“Yeah,” Jackson says carefully. “I do.”

The man runs his hand over his mouth. Jackson notices he’s only eaten half of his slice of pizza. Either he’s not hungry, or he’s too distracted.

“You can read thoughts,” Fox Mulder guesses, leaning back, speaking with certainty. He folds his hands in front of him. “You can focus on other people’s thoughts. Not just one person, but several at once.”

Jackson sets his slice of pizza down in shock. “How did you know that?”

“You can move objects, too.”

Jackson blinks at him. “I have been able to do that. Some. I could do it easier when I was little.”

“What else?”

“I can, like, change people’s perceptions. What they see. Not for forever, just for a little while. So, if I, like, need a distraction in class or something, I can make the teacher think someone opened the door and mooned us. Stupid stuff like that.”

Fox Mulder looks undeniably fascinated. “Wow,” he says. “Interesting.” He taps his fingers on the table. Jackson doesn’t have to use his shine to see that the man is thinking this over. “So does that mean you could effectively shapeshift? If you wanted to?”

“Yeah,” admits Jackson. “At least I can make other people think I look like someone else.”

“Huh,” the man says, squinting thoughtfully. He tilts his head, looking at Jackson again. “Are you reading my mind right now?”

“No,” Jackson says honestly.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired,” Jackson says. “It’s work, sometimes. And no offense, but you’re kind of complicated and hard.”

Fox Mulder chuckles. “I don’t know if I should take offense at that or not.”

“I did read your mind earlier,” Jackson confesses. “And the red-haired lady …. she was really easy. I hardly had to try with her at all. It was like her thoughts just flew at me. I was wondering if that was because she was my birth mom. Do you think that could be right?”

The man stares at him blankly, not directly answering. “Her name is Dana Scully.”

“Dana Scully,” repeats Jackson.

“Have you ever heard that name before?”

“No,” Jackson says. “I don’t think so.”

“Did your parents tell you anything about your birth parents? Who they were, where you were from?”

“I don’t think they knew anything about them,” Jackson says. “It was a closed adoption.”

Fox Mulder nods, scratching his chin. “Yeah,” he says. It’s like a cloud of sadness has fallen over him. “Yeah, it would have been.” He fixes Jackson with a curious look. “Do you … have any questions for me? About any of this?”

“Uh. Sure.” Jackson looks around the room, slowly, as if the best question to ask might be scrawled on the walls. The faces peering out of the framed photos draw his attention again, but it’s all so much. He looks away, back at the box of pizza in front of them instead. “Is it… okay if I have another slice, Mr. Mulder?”

The man laughs a little, crossing his arms. “You can just call me Mulder.”

“I think I’m eating more than you, Mulder,” Jackson points out seriously. “It doesn’t seem fair. It’s your pizza.”

“I told you, eat as much as you want.”

Jackson feels like he has been polite enough. He shrugs. “Thanks,” Jackson says, taking another slice.

“Jackson,” Mulder says, watching him eat, his voice suddenly too casual. “Do you have any idea who your birth father is?”

Jackson picks up his piece of pizza and studies it, pulling off a particularly delicious-looking piece of sausage and sampling it. “Well,” he says, through a mouthful, “I’ve got a guess. Based on certain clues. But I don’t know for sure.”

“Clues you’ve read in people’s minds? Or clues you’ve noticed?”

Jackson shrugs again. “Both, I guess.” He gives Mulder a look, raising his eyebrows.

There’s a pause.

“What clues?”

“Well, I’m not stupid,” Jackson says matter-of-factly. “That woman, Dana Scully, was here, fighting with you. Lots of big feelings. Then, the way you’re acting now. Like you think I’m a brand new iPhone and you can’t stop looking at me. And how you seem to know things about me. That���s a bunch of clues.”

Mulder has been sitting with his arms crossed, and he hasn’t moved the entire time Jackson’s been talking. But now Jackson can see a tear sprouting in his eye. It surprises him. Wayne Van De Kamp, his father, would never have cried in front of him. Mulder blots it with his sleeve, and Jackson sees his hands are shaking, too.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that so carelessly, kind of flippantly. It’s obviously a big deal to Mulder. Really, truthfully, it’s a big deal to Jackson, too—something he’s wondered about his whole life. But right now he just can’t have everything feel like a big deal all at once. Or he’ll explode or something.

He meets the man’s damp eyes.

“Yeah,” Mulder says roughly, trying to smile. “Okay. A lot of clues.” He pauses, uncrosses his arms, places his hands on the table. “I get the sense you can’t handle a lot more emotional drama right now, Jackson, and I get that, I really do. Believe it or not, I’ve been in that place myself.”

Jackson’s speechless. It’s like the man read his mind, but that’s not possible.

“I just want to say, we can talk about it whenever you want to,” Mulder adds. “No pressure.”

Jackson nods his head up and down, licking his lips nervously.

***

After dinner, they go back into the part of the room with the couch, which is surrounded by all the messy piles of books. Jackson sits on the floor and starts picking up volumes curiously. “The Art of Profiling?” he says. “Is that an art book?”

“No,” Mulder says with a smile, trying to kick piles out of the way. “It’s psychological profiling. Like for criminals.”

“Oh,” Jackson says, making a connection. “Like on Criminal Minds.”

“What’s that? A TV show?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “My parents love it. It’s about a team of FBI agents who profile dangerous criminals.” An exciting thought occurs to him. “Wait, is that what you did?”

“Yes,” Mulder says. “No. Kind of. I was a profiler, years and years ago. But then I was put on the X-files, where I investigated cases that had unexplainable, supernatural associations.”

“That’s why you have books like this,” Jackson says. He lifts the book Sasquatch: Diverse Perspectives. “Or this?” Extraterrestrial Abductions Beyond the Media.

“Yeah,” Mulder says, a self-deprecating shrug. “That’s right.”

“That’s badass,” Jackson says, a root of an idea occurring to him. He belatedly realizes his mistake. “I mean, that’s cool. Very cool,” he corrects himself.

“It was badass,” Mulder agrees, seemingly unaffected by Jackson’s profanity. “Although… it could be difficult. We went through a lot, working on the X-files. Scully and me.”

Jackson absorbs this information. “So you and Dana Scully worked together on the X-files. In the F.B.I.. That’s how you knew one another?”

“We were partners,” Mulder says with quiet precision, like this sentence is very important.

They’re just three words—we were partners—but Jackson can tell they tell an entire complicated story the length of a book or more. His shine cries out to be used, but Jackson pushes it aside.

“Mulder,” Jackson says slowly. “Is it a coincidence that you and my birth mom worked on these X-files … and that I have these abilities?”

“No, Jackson,” Mulder says, sighing heavily. “It’s probably not a coincidence.” He sits on the couch, looking down at Jackson still sitting on the floor. “There are things that both of us were exposed to that could have … caused the abilities.”

“But you guys don’t have them yourselves, right?”

“No. Not like you.”

It’s a frustrating answer. “Not like me? Or not at all?”

“Some things I want to wait to talk to you about,” Mulder replies. “Until we’ve had a chance to talk to your mother, too.”

Your mother.

Jackson inhales sharply, the words sending an unexpected shock through him.

“I meant Scully, of course,” Mulder says quickly, noticing his reaction. “I’m sorry.”

“Dana Scully isn’t my mother,” Jackson says with emphasis. “I have a mother.”

“I know.” Mulder’s eyes look impossibly sad. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I know.”

“I’m not looking to replace my parents,” Jackson says tightly. “That’s not why I’m here or what this is about. They’ll always be my parents. I love them.”

Mulder appears to sink further into the couch. “Yeah,” he says. “I can tell you do.”

Jackson looks down quickly at the stack of books again, playing silently with the cover of Criminology Through The Ages. He knows he shouldn’t have gotten angry. He knows Mulder didn’t mean anything by it, and he’s having to struggle with his shine now to keep from sensing any bad feelings or thoughts coming off of Mulder.

It’s just Jackson feels almost disloyal, sitting here talking to this man, learning this information about his birth parents’ lives, when his parents just died. When they probably died because of him.

“Jackson.” Mulder’s voice is kind. “What were they like? Your parents. Do you want to … tell me about them? I don’t know anything about them.”

Jackson pauses, still staring at the book in his hand. “Yeah,” he says. He tries to find the right words. He has to be the person who remembers them, who speaks for them to the world now. “They were … they weren’t anything like me. But they were great.”

Mulder waits patiently, his soft eyes on Jackson. Jackson puts the book back carefully on top of a pile.

“My dad was the shop teacher at Rawlins High School. He was good at woodworking, cabinetry. He was always trying to teach me.”

“Were you good at it, too?”

“No,” Jackson says with a tiny smile. “I was really, really bad at it.”

“Oh yeah?” Mulder echoes the tiny smile.

“I couldn’t cut straight. I forgot to measure,” Jackson says, shaking his head. “I was always disappointing him.”

“Not really,” Mulder guesses softly.

“No,” Jackson agrees, just as softly. “Not really.” He’s quiet, thinking more about his goofy, sweater-vested dad. “He was always cheerful. He thought you should look on the positive side of things, you know? Really into baseball. He coached my Little League team for a while.”

“That’s good,” Mulder says encouragingly. “It’s good to play sports.” He’s quiet, too. “And your mom?”

“Her job was running the church preschool,” Jackson says. “She was always singing. She loved holiday decorations, and to cook and bake.” He feels tears threatening. “She is just … she was a really good mom to me. Like, she hugged me all the time. I acted like I didn’t like it, but I did.”

“I’m glad she did that,” Mulder whispers. “I’m so glad.”

“She was really Christian. Really into church. They both were.”

“You were raised religious?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “Lutheran.” He glances at Mulder wryly. “But I was really bad at that, too.”

Mulder returns the look. “I’m not very good at that myself,” he says. “Scully’s religious, in her own way. But I’ve never been … that kind of believer. It’s just never made sense to me”

Something warm blooms in Jackson at being understood in this way. It’s never made sense to him, either.

“What are you good at?” Mulder asks. His tone is gentle, but Jackson’s shine is suddenly alert, suddenly aware of what’s underneath the man’s exterior. Mulder is hungry to know more about him, desperate for any detail. His need is so overwhelming, Jackson closes the door on it quickly.

“I don’t know,” Jackson says casually. “I’m good at math, I guess. Math comes easy to me.”

Mulder’s face lights up. “Scully’s amazing at math.” Looking over at Jackson, he seems to regret his words. His scolding to himself shines through. —stop making everything he says about me and Scully. “Sorry. You’re telling me about yourself.”

“I like to run,” Jackson continues. “I’m pretty fast, and I think I’m a good distance runner. I was thinking maybe I’d try out for the track team in high school.” He pauses. “But I guess I’m not going to high school now.”

“Come on,” Mulder says. “Of course you’re going to high school. Your life isn’t over.”

“I’m most likely going to prison,” Jackson mumbles darkly.

“Nah. Not going to happen.”

“I don’t even know where I’m going to live,” Jackson adds. “Where I’m going to stay tonight.”

“You’re obviously going to stay here tonight,” Mulder insists. “After that, we’ll figure it out.”

The lightning-fast image of a school building with a sign— Farrs Corner High School—and then another fast image, the two of them, Mulder and Jackson, running side by side on a country road, a road that looks a lot like the road right outside the farmhouse. Then almost instantly, more scolding in Mulder’s mind: Way ahead of yourself. Stop it. Haven’t even told Scully. Need to confirm.

“How will we confirm?” Jackson asks quickly. “What does that mean?”

Mulder’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“Sorry,” Jackson says. “That was kind of rude of me, probably.”

“I have to remind myself you’re listening,” Mulder says with a small smile.

“I normally try to hide it more,” Jackson says. He stands up, stepping around the books to sit next to Mulder on the couch. “But I mean … what’s the point if you already know, right?”

“I was just thinking that before we introduce you to Scully, we should run DNA,” Mulder says. “Yours against mine. To confirm it.”

“Why?” Jackson says, frowning. “You don’t believe me?”

“Can’t you tell that I believe you?”

Jackson sighs. “Yeah, I think you do.” He kicks out his long legs and leans his head back against the back of the couch. “But like I said, you’re not the easiest.”

“The people that Scully and I used to be involved with,” Mulder says, “were the kind of people who would go to extremes. Even extremes like convincing a kid his birth mother was someone she wasn’t. Like planting ideas into people’s heads. I don’t think you’re lying, but I think it would be smart to know for sure.”

Jackson swings his head to look at Mulder. “Who were these people?”

Mulder regards him with a troubled expression. “I’ll answer that, Jackson. But I think you need to answer this, too: who drove you here? To Virginia?”

“I told you,” Jackson says, folding his arms defensively, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?” Mulder’s eyebrows draw together in concern. “It worries me a little. Did the person who drove you ask you not to tell me?”

“Yeah, they did,” Jackson admits. “But I don’t think they’re one of these bad people you’re talking about. They were just trying to help me.”

“But Jackson,” Mulder says urgently, “you need to understand that—”

“You’re just going to have to trust me,” Jackson insists, and his voice sounds younger than he intends. “Please. Just trust me.”

Mulder rubs his temple with one finger. “Okay,” he says simply. “I can do trust.” He leans forward on his forearms. “But still, Jackson, I think we gotta do the DNA test. If you’re not … the person we think you are—and who Scully thinks you are, it would be too hard for her.”

“She’s been wanting to see me that bad?”

Mulder is surprised. “Of course she has. Of course.”

“But it was a closed adoption. Her choice.”

Mulder opens and closes his mouth, again seeming not to know what to say. “Since the second she let you go,” he says, his voice strained, “she’s been wanting to see you again.”

Jackson’s shine pulls in an image then of a baby in a crib, crying, and then the woman Mulder calls Scully, younger, crying and crying, inconsolable.

It’s all too sad, and Jackson is sad already.

“Okay. DNA test tomorrow then,” Jackson says, shrugging. “No big deal.”

“Great,” Mulder says, standing up. “Now I thought I’d show you where you’ll be sleeping if you want. I’ll have to put sheets on the guest bed first. Maybe you can help me. This place used to be a little more organized when Scully lived here.”

“You have a guest room, huh?” Jackson says. “Fancy.”

“Yeah,” Mulder says in a strange voice. “It’s just an extra bedroom. Small. Not too fancy.”

It was supposed to be your room. In case we got you back somehow. Mulder’s thoughts are suddenly and unexpectedly clear.

“Then I guess I better sleep in it,” Jackson responds flatly, following along behind him.

***

[olderthannetfic]

please, send help. i (23y/o) think i am getting to a stage where I need to be a Cool Aunt TM for my niece (13y/o). She's been a bit too online since she had to move around a lot. She had a bit of antis mentality, but i'm trying to pull her away from it slowly. At the same time, she's been around the internet, reading 18+ yaois and shit. I did the same at her age, so I can’t say I don't understand her. But as an adult idk how to talk about this 18+ healthily with her? or do I even need to? should I leave her on her own devices? I didn't have an adult to talk about these things with growing up so idk how you're supposed to do this.

There is not way to say how my parents or sibling (her mom) would react if I drop this on them, could be +/- , but it's a bit of a lottery depending on the most recent online articles they read lately. lol. They're open to convos, but a bit religious.

I'm taking suggestions if anybody would like to give some.

P.S. I am also not a cool person, i'm pretty much a lame homebody so… i also don’t know how to be cool lol.

im so sorry idk who else to ask.

--

Ahaha. Well, don't try too hard to be ~cool~. Nothing could be more offensive to the sensibilities of a 13-year-old.

A well delivered "Oh, come on, no one really thinks that" and eye-roll in response to the more delusional anti stuff has a wonderful effect if you're offline and the person respects you. Humans in general and 13-year-olds in particular are hypersensitive about fitting in. A boring and serious lecture from an older person will set off every melodramatic "The old people don't understaaaand!" instinct, but a well-timed "LOL, WTF" causes internal panic that one has missed something. If she wants the serious and nuanced explanation, she can ask for it, but I wouldn't start there.

As for how you talk about raunchy art... it really depends on the person. If she realizes you like the same stuff, she may bring it up. I think recs are fine, and so is euphemistic "I liked the ship dynamic in this one". "I got off to this" is TMI on your part. (Well, it's TMI on her part too, but be prepared for TMI if you become the confidant of a 13-year-old.)

Honestly, as long as she's directing the conversation and you aren't sharing details of your masturbation habits, I think you'll be fine. 13-year-olds aren't babies. If they're old enough to read porny doujinshi, they're old enough to talk to a trusted adult about them.

My teen tastes were weird art films full of sex. 13 is pretty young, but within a couple of years, she'll be the age I was when I was trying to see shit like Crash. She could be anywhere from self-assured in her tastes and interested in discussing her favorite media to easily-influenced to paralyzed by guilt. Creepy grooming shit comes from groomers choosing to groom, not from the topic of sexuality being in the air. If she's reading something with even a shred of plot or romance, you can talk about that without the actual conversation being X-rated. My main concern would be to avoid her trying to impress you by consuming media she finds uncomfortable or talking about things she doesn't actually want to share. You can really only judge that by body language and tone of voice in the moment.

I mean... does "18+ yaois" mean actual BL series here that have a few sex scenes or doujinshi that are entirely porn? ('Yaoi' basically means 'PWP' and is not exactly complimentary, after all.) It's somewhat harder to talk about the latter. But I liked some pretty out-there shit as a teen and did talk to adults about it. They just let me do most of the talking.

Probably the easiest way to broach the topic is to catch her reading something and go "Oh, I read that one" or "I liked [name of BL]".

[wordslikesilver]

Seeing the discourse lately on transmisogyny and coming across new terms like tme and tma being used more than I think I’ve ever seen before because of everything going on had me uneasy, not gonna lie, I always do when I find new terminology from the alphabet mafia because I’m thinking to myself oh boy, more stuff to explain to cis people. Looked into it, it all seems pretty reasonable to me tho for including nonbinary femmes and femme intersex people I’ve sorta just always by default assumed “Trans Femme” was really good given the whole “it’s a spectrum and transmisogyny by definition is talking about the people on the femme side of it who didn’t start there” so admittedly I’ll probably be a grump about changing my vocab soon.

But then I see some new shit in the wake of all this TERF nonsense and bigotry being used against trans women? Detransitioned cis women calling themselves trans women and saying WE don’t understand the concept of gender well? The audacity? Look, changing the labels of a community to be less offensive is something I support so loudly and love and adore. This isn’t that. This is people encroaching on our pride and our identities and pretending the flag we nobly fly, the icon of bravery and unifying love in the face of oppression that it is, isn’t clearly “ours” enough. That it’s something they’re allowed to say belongs to them too so we need to come up with something new to call ourselves when we discuss the pain we face in our lives. Erasing and rewording the definitions of who we are til our identity is gone altogether. Moving the goal posts and telling us to teach everyone a whole new set of labels when the average layman still doesn’t even know that “Cis” isn’t a fucking slur, let alone what it means. Never forget that at your core when you fight against this new bigotry and they try to dance circles around you with their words and misdirect the conversation to stupid shit. Alienation from an already unified identity is a classic means of making it so much fucking harder for the oppressed to have their pleas for basic rights be acknowledged. Never let your people’s pain be silenced by someone pretending to they’re too stupid to know who you’re talking about.

To the TERFs and bigots who find this, and I fucking hope you find this, Trans Woman is not yours to fucking claim just because “gender is a construct and complicated” you will NEVER know the pain people like me have been through. I refuse to acknowledge a claim on my people’s identity because someone managed to misunderstand a concept hard enough and it’s now snowballed into a new form of complicating discussions of deserving basic and equal rights. I have felt the pains a cis woman has felt, I have felt sexist and awful treatment from men, I have been catcalled, I have been stalked, I have been made unsafe, I have been expected to be a mother for no other reason than “all women want them one day” and I have been assumed to be less than a man for some imagined frailty of the fairer sex. I am a woman. We can share that label, I WANT to share that label. We can bond over sapphic love and feminine experiences and hardships we both suffer under a cruel patriarchy. In just the same way, I have never known the pain of period cramps. I don’t have a vagina. I will never have a pregnancy scare and I will never feel the side effects of birth control. I wasn’t catcalled by gross men walking home when I was in high school. I was never sexualized by the media when I was in middle school the way cis girls would see happen to them. I am NOT a cis woman and I will never be one. I grew up as a boy, I lived and I loved as a young man, I saw the world through masculine eyes and was raised being treated as one, I will never pretend I know what it’s like to be a young girl being preyed upon and used by an older man. I will never touch that label because it’s simply not correct at the most fundamental level. I am a trans woman and that made me who I am. After all the people I’ve met and all the experiences I’ve shared, it took time to be so proud of calling myself a trans woman. Holding up the sky would’ve taken less strength of the heart, but now I feel the deepest pride knowing I’ve done something inconceivably harder.

But you, you people cannot take that from me and my sisters. I draw the fucking line at saying you think you have the slightest notion of what it’s like to be transfeminine. To be born in a body that makes people see you as a man from the very first glance, to hear you wrong from the first whisper of your voice. To spend the rest of your life working tirelessly in a fight against your own biology and/or the perception of the entire world whenever it casts its ugly eye upon you. Some of us don’t even have the privilege of fighting those perceptions or the things or own bodies have been programmed to force on us. Some of us don’t even want to have to do anything about how we look because it’s bullshit to have to fight for that basic respect from our peers in the first place and their standards just don’t align with who we are deep down in the first place! Gender is complicated but this isn’t. Have you EVER held your breath in the women’s public washroom and tucked your feet in because you were scared you’d make other women uncomfortable, because you’re not sure if you’re in an accepting space? FEARED what might happen if you step into the women’s change room to put on a bathing suit or your work clothes? Have you EVER been threatened with physical violence and called slurs in front of your own mother on public transit? Have you ever had to tell your doctor you’re ready to drop out of school to show how “sure” (re: fucking desperate) you are to be prescribed HRT? Sure, lots of cis women are on HRT, I treat them as patients all the time. Have you ever had a hot flash at the age of 21 because you were late on your injection? Did you pierce your skin with thin metal once a week for years and years to get the breasts you have? Did your body do irreparable things to your bones and your voice that make it so no one will ever see you as a woman at first glance without thousands of hours of effort, of tears, of sheer fucking focus and fixation on achieving the ideal self you see in your mind and dream of being one day? DID YOU HAVE TO BEG YOUR GOVERNMENT TO LET YOU HAVE THE BODY YOU LITERALLY ALREADY HAD AT BIRTH OR DID THEY NEVER EVEN SO MUCH AS TRY TO GET IN THE WAY OF JUST BEING CALLED MISS ON YOUR GOD DAMN LICENSE? Cis women can’t even begin to imagine the feelings I have felt, building my wings of feather and bones and wax, day after day, dreaming of flying beside my sisters who were born with wings they’ll never fear will melt, all the while remembering the last time someone born in a body like mine flew too close to the sun. Maybe they’ll perhaps know what it’s like to bind them to their back and hide them beneath their shirt, maybe they’ll even have sheered and ripped the bones from their sockets and one day wish they could have them back and sing with the rest of the angels like they used to, but they will NEVER fly on wings like mine, fear the heat from the light that makes life worth living the way I do, fear the same slings and arrows screaming up through the air from down below and even at times from above my head to let me know loud and clear they wanna knock me outta this sky, this sky that’s so beautiful and holy I cry when I touch it, the very first chance they get.

Transphobia won’t ever take the sky from me. My Icarian Wings are made on the foundation of generation after generation of my people who dreamed and yearned to touch the sunlight blue skies and the infinite glittering nights, each of us telling each other, telling ourselves we’ll never fear the light again one day, lifting each other when we fall, soaring higher each time than the ones whose wax melted before we could save them could, warmly teaching each other how to fix our broken wings and freely gifting each other the love it takes to make them stronger for the next flight. Holding each others hands as we dance and show each other how to fly, hand in hand and heart in heart with the angels who call us sister angels. A cis woman having the audacity to flap her never melting wings and saying hers are just like mine, that the name of my people is just a construct so she can say she she’s just like Icarus too, makes me wanna vomit. Pretending she knows what it’s like to watch in terror as all the feathers fall out suddenly in a moment of weakness making her break her bones upon the rocks, listening to everyone around her say “I knew it, I knew his wings were fake, look at him crawl along the ground in the dirt and the mud where he belongs.” Pretending that if two people both have skin, even of a different colour, that since the labels are made up, the sun and society itself will surely treat them the same if the white one calls themselves black.

Transphobia won’t ever take the sky from me. Come and fucking try to take these wings from me and see what happens.

[fantasyloverisabel]

Dragons Rising spoilers below

I've seen mixed opinions on Arin, specifically the selfishness. And some people are saying stuff like "He wants his parents back that isn't selfish!" And thats true, wanting your parents is never something thats selfish. What IS selfish is that you'll make everything about yourself, and completely disregard the fact that other people are missing their families too. It's not just Arin that lost his family/loved ones it's multiple people.

Even Nya can be used in this example (and Zane) they've both lost a loved one. And even when Nya "finds" Jay, she prioritizes the mission because she knows it's important to the world. Now you could argue saying "Nya is a grown adult and Arin is a kid" Arin is about 16-17 and when the Ninja first started about they were about that age and all I can really say is to just look at Kai's development from the beginning.

For Sora lying to Arin, I think in the moment she shouldn't have told him, but once they reached the monastery she should've. But her character doesn't like to disappoint others so she was fearful of that, but even when he confronted her she told the truth and didn't lie. But linking that with what Ras has been telling Arin, it's one of the reasons why it's annoying (no offense) when the "Arin isn't selfish" people are ignoring this. Arin is only with Ras because he can lead him to his parents, and despite the fact that Ras has endangered their lives on multiple occasions(even trying to split them up) and was sided with someone who was using dragons for fuel.

Then you move onto the training bit, where Ras inadvertently trained Arin on how to properly do Spinjitzu,(theory) and I've seen people talking about how when Arin does it fully it has red streaks because he's forcing it and it'll likely hurt him somehow in the future. But back onto the training, Lloyd had said multiple times he doesn't think he'll be a good master and Arin kept pushing that onto him(and excluding the fact he doesn't even see the Ninja as people more so idols and still saw them as such till this season).

Then moving on when Master Wu said he caused the merge (which he could've said that he did because he couldn't prevent it, me and a friend actually talked about that) Cole was in shock and Arin's immediate thought was "wow they can't even believe Master Wu would do something like that" No Arin, Cole was in shock because he didn't expect that. And you told Lloyd this information when he's fighting the enemy, and when he said he'll deal with it later that didn't mean "I won't believe this information you've given me" it's a "I'll digest this information AFTER we defeat the enemy" and even Zane says it's a lot of information to process. This entire time Arin was just being selfish and unempathic.

The only thing I can praise him on was the whole detective thing he has going on, which was good, but overall was selfish the rest of the time. What makes it a bit frustrating is that Arin being a character thats written selfishly isn't a bad thing, he can have major character development and seeing a main character like this is really cool to see. But trying to erase that crucial part of his character is silly.

Anyways I hope I didn't make anyone angry with this post, and if I did that wasn't my intention to. There's also probably A LOT of spelling errors I didn't see so I apologize for that. And Im open to discussion! If you haven't already make sure you drink some water to stay hydrated and have a lovely day!

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

what do you think about the concept of the comic kids stumbling upon ericsons instead of clem leaving?

It's a fine concept that I doubt anyone would actually implement into their fanworks because comic bad. Most fans are too pissy about the comics to see any further than the tips of their nose, and I totally get it but it's kind of unfortunate for me since it limits the discussions significantly. I can only hear the same, "the comics ruined Clementine and TWDG, Tillie Walden bad, Skybound bad," so many times before I'm so tired that I retire to my chair with a glass of tea to stare disappointedly into the great nothing and deteriorate.

So, for fun, some ideas to toss out there:

As I said in my previous post, Amos would love Ericson. The dude would be all over the place and determined to make as many new friends as possible. I think Olivia would enjoy it, too, and maybe Georgia wouldn't be a half-assed villain... or she could've been made into a great villain... just saying, Georgia could've gotten in good with Marlon, learned about the raiders, and then convinced him to trade Amos away as a means of keeping him away from Olivia. Though, she might not have anything to worry about in this case; I maintain that Amos would've had a major crush on Ruby.

But then we get to Ricca. Within the comics, her character falters due to being Clementine's main love interest. As a concept, Ricca isn't actually that bad. It's the execution and how she's portrayed as a love interest that makes me not like her, so if we remove that, she has a shot at being a compelling character... because we're not sending her to Ericson to be a love interest, or shove her into a love triangle/square with Clementine and Louis/Violet. I think she'd get along with most of the Ericson crew, except I think she'd really butt heads with Marlon and Mitch. I can see her getting on well with Violet, too. I know saying they're alike in a lot of ways could be considered as offensive by some sensitive fans, but they're both queer girls with religious backgrounds and familial trauma and I think it's okay to entertain the idea that they'd get along. Also, they both have snark to them that could easily be bounced back and forth... or at someone else. Probably Louis, or Amos.

And honestly bring everyone except Morro from Book Two to Ericson. Get John away from his abusive mother. Let Amir be friends with AJ, Tenn, and Willy and teach them to play new games and stuff. Emi could teach them better ways to fish and could even go on longer trips to bring back bigger hauls for the group. Fen would love the school setting and would search everywhere for different maps and information about Taiwan. Hell, bring Giles and Ginette, the old French couple who don't speak much English. Let them settle down with little Mercy at Ericson where they can teach everyone how to knit and build stuff and just be grandparents to all these troubled youth.

Yeah, the comics suck, but what's a fandom to do other than take things they don't like and change them to be something they do, yeah?

[lesbiantaurus]

someone please put cishet men under the earth like get rid of them!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the other day, i'm talking with my coworkers about relationships, i'm discussing that i'm poly, and my monogamous coworkers are all like " i could never, don't you get jealous, etc." standard stuff, and at some point the conversation turns to like drugs, whatever. two servers are talking about why they do/don't do certain drugs, where they get them, i'm like in the convo but slightly off to the side, and one of the servers, a 6'0" gym rat dj named zach starts talking about how because he's a dj, he gets a lot of drugs for free from his friends and the people in the spaces he spends time in. he goes "yeah like, the clubs i hang out at, most of my audience and the people there are cool, it's like a bunch of gays, *trannies*, musicians and stuff" and this happens:

me: hey hold up :) what was that second word you said? did you say what i think you said? him: "ugh, gabiiiii, what do you mean, you Know i wasn't using that like that" me: okay, sure, i understand that. I know you're not using it offensively and I don't care, that's literally a slur? don't fucking say it???? him: oh my godddd, gabi come On >:\\\\\\\

i decide to leave it there because my blood was boiling, and he literally didn't talk to me for the rest of his shift, would just side eye me and be stoic and pissy because he's furious that i'm angry at him???? cut to yesterday, a few days later, when i come back to work having nearly forgotten about the whole thing until i see him again, and he is STILL just seething at me???? i say hello to him, he doesn't respond and actively moves to avoid where i'm stood as much as he can and then:

i moved a big bin of dirty dishes from my station to the server station to wait for the dumbwaiter we use to send them up to the kitchen, which is technically not correct procedure, they Should stay in my station until the dumbwaiter has been called, but no one has ever cared about leaving non-server dishes there in all the time i've been working, but he grabs the bin, brings it to my station and sets it on my line, and goes "we're Not bussers, you can wait for the elevator :)" and walks away huffing, doesn't talk to me again before finishing his shift.

im so mad!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what the fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i hate it here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! how are you going to act like a CHILD because you're angry at me for being upset that you said something fucking hurtful!!!!!!!!!!!!!! like average man behavior but im still!!!!!!!! like god FUCK you!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[yuseirra]

I might be taking things the wrong way, but you know how I tried to be very careful about determining how deep Ai's feelings towards Kamiki would be before the actual chapters dropped? (and I had to, since what's happened to her was serious, fiction or not, and I felt it'd be rude? even offensive if I jumped to conclusions and got really off about it considering what happened to her) It turned out to be WAY deeper and stronger than I described! I really liked that, btw, and it helped me understand her character better.

Maybe the same thing could be said about kamiki too?? I actually HOPE that would be the case.. and that'd mean a LOT because I'd actually been interpreting him in a really.. how should I put it, compassionate? direction ALREADY. I was afraid I could be wrong about my takes (and I'd actually regret it if it were to be) but I was also convinced that this should be where the story would be going, how he'd be handled, and that there'd be something more about him after that latest chapter.

This comic has some extremely heavy themes and what it tackles is something that can hurt people in reality, right. So I wanted to be careful about determining and drawing conclusions about how the characters feel about one another. Crimes and violence can't be justified no matter what. You can't call something like that "love", but I think this character shared such feelings with Ai. I felt that, so... it'd been giving me a lot of mixed feelings. I felt so conflicted. Perhaps it's just my wishful thinking, but it'd be nice if they really do have a genuine sense of love towards one another.

I had a hunch that it could really be it. That's why I decided to hop right in and start discussing it(it was really fun!) I can be wrong, but...

It'd be even cooler if the actual thing is even STRONGER than what I anticipated it'd be like! (and this is usually the case because I worry about getting things wrong and refrain from being more assertive than the source material)

but who knows? I just really enjoy thinking about/drawing characters that care a whole lot about each other. Ai certainly had that sort of feeling towards her bf all along, and I want to see him doing the same for her too. It'd make so much sense for me that way. I can draw lots of things about them if it were to be the case because I specialize with drawing stuff like that! I say it's my strength. It could be a bit dumb and naive of me to hope for something wholesome from a series that starts out with murder, but we'll see, I guess.

[pokenimagines]

SFW | Raifort | Headcanons

So, y'know how in the background of one of the Raifort scenes you could see a picture of Professor Laventon?

How would Raifort react to seeing the protagonist/Reader's picture in the books and then later seeing them waltz through the door. Older, battered, and definitely sporting some scars they didn't have in the photos. But alive and in the present.

Oh my goodness this was so much fun to write. I actually had to stop myself from going overboard on it. The concept is amazing and I don't know why I didn't think of it before!

Rules | Discord Server (16+)

SFW Raifort: Shadows of History

Raifort was very well versed in history; probably the one who knew the most about it in the entire region minus Professor Sada.

She had spent hours and days hovered over text books and images, learning as much as she could.

The day that you walked into her class though, she couldn't believe her eyes. She could recognize you immediately.

Sure the hair was different, and the outfit was a big change, but there was no doubting it. You had appeared in her history books several times; mainly when discussing ancient Hisui. Though now you were older with new scars over you; she could see it despite the winter uniform you wore.

At first she thinks perhaps you're just a distant ancestor that happened to copy/paste from centuries ago. Then she gets a closer look at your mannerisms.

You had some more old school ways of doing things, and the glimpses she had seen you out in the school yards or wild areas was different from any student. You looked almost wild; like you had adapted to surviving in the wilds. Hell, she saw you directly dodging several pokemon attacks while recording something in a journal.

You were an enigma to Raifort and she couldn't help but study you closely. Time travel surly wasn't a thing, so how did you end up here?

This didn't stop her from being inquisitive. If you really were from Hisui, that means you knew stuff that never appeared in history books. When she went over Hisui in her class, she wasn't subtle about putting questions on the test that nobody would know the answers to.

She was disappointed to find out you were careful though, not revealing too much on the tests. It was frustrating and she was fighting back the urge to just corner you and ask you directly. She knew that might not be the best course of action though. What if you took offense and reported her? Then she'd be fired and wouldn't have opportunities to observe you.

So Raifort studies in silence and slowly tried gathering as much data on you as she could; fully expecting to one day find a way to ask you straight up.

There was just no doubt about it. You were the ancient Hero of Hisui.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅• Thank you for reading! Did you know we have a discord? It has everything from RPs, General Discussions, and even an 18+ area to go hog wild in! We even do announcements early for when the inbox is opening for requests, as well as other events! Come in and join us!

[hollywoodxwhore]

Mine | Chapter Ten

Colson x Original Female Character

Synopsis: Presley may look sinful on the outside, but deep down, she's innocent, guarded, and terrified of intimacy. Colson, on the other hand, is living up to his womanizer reputation as a way to cope with heartbreak. When his new guitarist invites his twin sister to join them on tour, Colson discovers that he's actually capable of feeling. Will Presley and Colson be able to push past all of the barriers trying to prevent them from happening?

Warnings/Content: Smut (18+), alcohol and marijuana usage, swearing, discussions of virginity, vulnerability, grinding, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving)

Buckle up, y'all. The moment you've been waiting for: Presley loses her virginity to Colson. I appreciate all the feedback!

Presley

Olivia and I are backstage while the boys perform, and as much as we like watching them, we decided to sneak away to her dressing room for some quiet. She sips a beer and I take hits off my pen every so often. She seems so relaxed, but I’m not sure I’ve ever been so jittery in my life. I can’t believe I told Colson I was ready.

It’s not that I was being dishonest. I am ready. He could’ve taken me the first night and I would’ve been okay with it. But no matter how much I trust him, this is a big step for me. Actual penetration, to me, is the closest two humans can be. I want it to live up to the hype. I’m also scared of getting more attached than I already am. 

I’ve zoned out for the fourth time during only one story of Olivia’s, and finally, she huffs at me, but her eyes are playful. “Pres,” she says. “Where the hell are you?”

I smile sheepishly. “Sorry,” I say, shaking my head to try to snap myself out of it. 

She studies my face and I shift uncomfortably under her scrutiny. She narrows her eyes at me. “Hey, Pres?” she asks.

“Y-yeah?” I answer, my mouth feeling extremely dry. I reach for my water bottle and take a shaky sip. 

“Can we stop pretending I don’t know about you and Colson?” Her tone is casual and calm, but it ignites a fire in me and I startle, eyes widening. Oh god. I’m nauseous. How does she know? Does this mean Cash knows? Holy fuck – “Cash doesn’t know,” she says, interrupting my thoughts. “In fact, he’s the most oblivious person I’ve ever met.”

“Oh thank god,” I breathe, slumping a little in relief. “Liv, you can’t tell him–”

“Relax, Pres,” she says, putting a perfectly manicured hand to my knee, “I won’t. It’s not my business.”

I bite my lip hard. “How do you know?”

She shrugs. “People act differently once they’ve fucked,” she says simply. “It becomes pretty obvious.”

I blink at her. “Colson and I haven’t…” She gives me a look and I shake my head. “Honestly! We’ve done other stuff, but we haven’t had sex. I’ve, um, I’ve never even…”

Olivia raises a brow. “Wait. You’re a virgin?” she asks. My cheeks redden but I nod. “No way,” she says, covering her mouth. “No offense, but it shocks me that Colson is pursuing you.”

I flinch a little. “He’s different than he seems, Liv,” I say quietly. “He…he asked me to be his girlfriend earlier today.”

Olivia is silent for a moment, and then she lets out an incredulous laugh. “I’ll be damned. Holy shit. It’s about time,” she says.

“For what?” I ask, brow furrowing. 

“For Colson to stop moping over Megan and find someone actually good for him,” she says. “I mean, I see the way he looks at you, but I didn’t think he was ready to try romance again.”

I shrug, and I can’t help the little smile that crosses my face. “Yeah. He’s…he’s so sweet, Liv,” I tell her, and she softens, smiling. “He’s so gentle and patient and he just gets me, you know?”

“I do know,” she says, eyes sparkling, and I smile when I realize she’s talking about Cash. And then, anger flares inside me.

“Do you know that Cash has been telling Colson not to pursue anything with me?” I ask.

Olivia shakes her head quickly as if to clear away the disbelief. “Wait, what?!”

“Yeah,”  I say sharply. “He’s told Colson several times now not to try anything with me.”

Olivia snorts. “Well, Cash is a dumbass then, seeing as he’s made you room with Kells so many times,” she says.

“Exactly!” I say. “Although, I guess you did say he’s oblivious.” 

“Blinded by his own relationship,” Olivia says knowingly, nodding slowly. “It isn’t Cash’s business who you date.”

“Exactly what I said!” I say. “But Colson told me I should wait until the tour ends. Otherwise Cash might blow up and leave the tour.”

Olivia frowns. “That’s not fucking fair,” she says.

I shake my head. “No, I agreed, Colson isn’t wrong–”

“No, Cash is wrong,” she says. “It’s not fair that he gets to enjoy his relationship and you and Colson have to hide.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” I mutter. “But my brother is stubborn as fuck. I wouldn’t put it past him to do some dumb shit like punch Colson or leave the band.”

Olivia winces. “That would be really bad.”

“I know.”

Olivia sighs. “Okay. So you wait ‘til the end of tour. That’s not so bad, right?” 

I shrug weakly. “I guess not. Just sucks because I want to be unashamedly all over my boyfriend.” The word feels weird in my mouth, but I like the way it sounds. My boyfriend. Colson. 

Olivia smiles slowly. “Fuck all that. I’m so happy for you guys,” she said. “I couldn’t have handpicked someone better for Kells, honestly.”

“Thank you,” I say, beaming.

“Now, can we go back to the virginity thing?” she asks, and my smile fades, but I nod.

“If I can manage to room with him,” I say, “we’re going to tonight.”

Olivia’s eyes widen. “Oh, shit,” she says. “I’ll make it happen. Don’t you worry.” 

“Really?” I ask, nerves and excitement dancing in my belly.

“Yes, of course!” she says. “This is a big deal, Pres!”

“I know,” I agree, wiping my sweaty palms on my thighs. “I’m a little scared.”

Olivia softens and pets my leg. “From what it sounds like, Colson will be so good to you,” she says. “Just be honest with him. Don’t rush it.”

“It’s gonna hurt,” I say with a wince. “He’s…sorry. He’s your friend.”

“Oh, his dick is huge,” Olivia says bluntly. “We all know it. We’ve all seen Kells naked at one point or another. We’ve all walked in on him fucking, too.”

I cringe. “Yeah. Me too.”

Olivia winces sympathetically. “Yeah. Kells is– was– a manwhore. We love him, though.” She studies my face. “Hey,” she says. “It might hurt. But my advice is to do a shit ton of foreplay. Like, a lot. Have an orgasm before you even have sex, if possible. It’ll make it easier.”

I blush. I’ve never had a girlfriend to talk about this with before, but it’s nice not to be carrying this alone. I trust Olivia, and I really like her. I’m glad she agrees that Cash is being a douche. It tells me how good she is for my brother. 

“I’ll figure out the hotel situation,” she says. “Your job is to enjoy tonight.” 

XX

Olivia is amazing, and she came through. She told Cash that she and I were planning on rooming together tonight but that she was missing him, and he gladly switched rooms with me, all too focused on his relationship. I’m furious at him, but I pretend that I’m not. He’s too wrapped up to notice something’s off with me. 

Besides, my happiness with Colson makes up for it. I’m in pure bliss, knowing he’s mine and I’m his. I’m a mix between giddy and nervous as I lie on the hotel bed. Colson is in the shower. He insisted he take one even though I assured him I don’t mind being with him, post-concert and sweaty. It’s kind of endearing actually. He cares so much about this. He wants it to be perfect, I can tell.

So do I. I fluctuate constantly between scared and turned on. Once Colson is out of the shower and here with me, I’ll feel better. He turns off the shower and I tense up, fidgeting on the bed. This is happening. This is happening very soon.

Colson comes out of the bathroom in a pair of boxer briefs, hair still wet and messy from being towel dried. He looks amazing, as always. I love the way his briefs hug him just right, and I have an urge to tell him to turn around so I can check out his ass, but I can’t seem to find my voice.

He crosses the room to me, standing at the side of the bed, and reaches out to tuck my hair behind my ear. “How you doing, pretty girl?” he asks softly. 

I bite my lip and reach out for him. “Good,” I say, voice nearly a whisper. He sits on the bed with his back against the headboard, then pulls me into his lap. He slides his hands up and down my sides, admiring the silky slip I’m wearing. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, looking up at me with those ice blue eyes. “Can’t believe you’re mine.”

I bite my lip and then lean in to kiss him. His kisses always relax me, so it will calm me down. Colson’s big hands land on my ass and squeeze, and I start to grind against him, but for some reason, I’m not as turned on as I usually am. It probably has something to do with the giant knot of anxiety in my stomach. 

Colson notices. Of course he does. He seems to know me better than I know myself. “Hey,” he murmurs, cupping my face in his hands. His brow is furrowed in concern and he’s frowning. “What’s wrong, baby?”

I’m embarrassed at the fact that my eyes are watering. This whole thing is so embarrassing. Why is this so hard for me? It feels like everyone else can get naked so easily. I’m 23 goddamn years old. What is wrong with me?

“Hey, Pres,” Colson coos, pulling me in close for a hug. Strong arms wrap around my waist and hold my close. “Shh, baby, you’re okay. You’re safe.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as my tears soak his neck. I’m shaking like a leaf and I’m so humiliated. 

Colson laughs softly. “Oh, baby, you have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.” He kisses my shoulder and rocks me a bit. “Pres? Can you look at me?”

I don’t move. It’s too fucking embarrassing.

“Presley,” he says. “Hey, what’s your middle name?” 

“Maeve.”

“Presley Maeve Carver,” he says, and my mouth twitches. “Will you just fuckin’ look at me? Please?”

I take a deep breath and finally do as I’m told, pulling back from our embrace. Immediately, Colson’s hands are on my face, wiping away my tears. He smiles sweetly at me and instantly, my anxiety starts to edge back down. I sniffle, feeling so vulnerable, but so very safe. How does Colson do it? Make me feel like nothing and no one can hurt me.

“Pres,” he says. “When I asked you to be my girlfriend, I wasn’t asking because I thought it meant you’d sleep with me.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “I asked you to be my girlfriend because I love everything about you. You’re perfect just as you are. Okay?” 

I hesitate, but then nod.

“Baby, there’s never any pressure,” he says. “I love what we do together. I’m not in any rush to have sex with you. I mean, I would love to, don’t get me wrong.”

"I want to,” I say with a sniffle. “It just doesn’t feel right. Not right now.”

Colson looks around. “Kind of impersonal at a hotel, huh?”

I nod timidly. 

Colson nods slowly. “We’ll be in LA in a week,” he says. “That’s where my house is. No one else will be around. We’ll have all the time in the world.”

I relax immediately. “That sounds better,” I admit. “Are you sure you’re okay with waiting?”

“Pres, I’d wait forever for you,” he blurts. And then he clears his throat, cheeks reddening. But his words have me biting back a smile. 

I love you. The words want to burst out of me so badly, but I hold them in. Not yet. It’s still so soon. Even though the words read extremely true, even more so after tonight. 

Colson

I can’t get back to LA soon enough.

It’s not because I can’t wait to have sex with Presley. I mean, of course I’m looking forward to it. I love her and I want to show her. I want to connect with her in that way. But that’s why I’m so happy to be back home. Time alone at my house will give us more time to connect, and maybe even talk about what the future will hold. 

I can’t believe I ever wanted to marry Megan. In hindsight, I’m so fucking glad I was just her rebound because if we were still together, I never would’ve found out what real love is. I never would’ve connected with Presley like this. And when I say this girl was made for me, I mean it.

The longer we’re together, the more I notice things about her. She has freckles. Tiny, almost invisible freckles. They came out when we were in The Maldives and she got a tan. She also has a birthmark in her inner thigh the shape of a chicken leg. Not even kidding. It’s hilarious and cute. When she laughs really hard, she snorts, and her nose wrinkles in the cutest way. I know I’m in deep because it’s the little things I love the most.

Our plane landed a couple of hours ago and we just got back to my house. Our suitcases are in my room and Presley stands in the doorway, looking around. I love my room. My bed is huge, I have blackout curtains on every window for prime sleeping, and it’s designed for comfort. I spend more time in here than in any other room in the house. 

I come up behind Presley and wrap my arms around her waist. She leans back against me and sighs. “I love your house, Col,” she says. “It’s so nice. It’s so you.”

I grin and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you.” I let go of her and cross the room, tearing off my shirt. “I need a shower,” I announce.

“Me too,” Presley agrees. 

I lean on the doorframe of the bathroom and look her up and down. “Come shower with me,” I say.

Presley’s eyes immediately darken with lust and she bites her lip, tucking one leg behind the other. “Okay,” she says, voice small, but I can tell she wants it. I smirk and drop my jeans, stepping out of them, leaving me in only a pair of boxer briefs. Presley’s eyes widen slightly and she peels off her t-shirt and tugs down her leggings. Slowly, I stalk towards her, my eyes on hers the entire time, and when I get to her, I slip my hands into the sides of her panties and push them down. She gulps as she steps out of them. I lift her hands to my shoulders and then expertly unlatch her bra, tugging it down her arms. She grabs my boxer briefs and tugs them down, too, and finally, we’re both naked together.

The sexual tension in this room is absolutely unreal. Ever since our night in the hotel, we haven’t even had a second of alone time. It seems like someone’s always there, and more often than not, it’s Cash. My friend, my enemy. God, the guy makes me mad, but I’m also terrified of what’s going to happen when we tell him the truth. Will he get up and punch me out? Will he leave? I have no idea.

But right now, I can’t bring myself to care, because Presley stands in front of me, gorgeously naked, and soon enough, I will have all of her. I’ll be inside of her, and I’ll show her that I love her. That she never needs to be afraid again. That she can trust me. A shiver rolls down my spine at the mere thought of it. 

I take her hand and pull her with me into the bathroom where I start my shower and pull two fluffy towels from my cabinet. I throw them in the towel warmer and turn it on, and Presley lifts a brow. I smirk and shrug. She shakes her head and grins. “Rich people shit,” she says, and I laugh. But my laugh cuts off abruptly when she steps into my space and curls her fingers around my already half hard dick. I swallow hard and look down at her, letting my hands move down her back. I love how confident she’s getting.

Wordlessly, we step into the shower. Immediately, Pres goes for the shampoo and lathers some in her hands. “Turn around,” she says. My brows raise but I do. I tilt my head back with a groan when I feel Presley’s long fingernails against my scalp. My eyes close and my mouth hangs open.

“That feels so good,” I moan, and I make a mental note to ask her to play with my hair more often. Presley takes her time shampooing my hair, then adds some conditioner. I lean towards the water to rinse it and then grab the bottle of shampoo. I gesture for her to turn around and when she does, I stare shamelessly at her ass. I can’t help it. 

It’s my turn to massage the suds into her long hair and her turn to sigh and melt into the touch. I watch as goosebumps rise on her skin, even under the hot water, and smile a little. So sensitive and reactive, wherever I touch. Once her hair is rinsed and conditioned, she grabs the bottle of body wash and looks up at me. I gulp. 

She pours some of the soap into her hands and massages it in until it lathers, then gestures for me to turn around and starts with my back. She takes her time rubbing the soap into my shoulders and then slowly down my back. Finally, I feel her hands land on my ass and squeeze gently, and I can’t help but smirk. No idea why but Presley loves my ass so much, but she’s obsessed with it. She massages my cheeks and I chuckle silently. 

“Turn around,” she says, and when I do, I notice how dark her eyes have gotten. Desire swirls in my gut and I pull her close. She grabs some more soap and slowly starts rubbing it into my chest, her eyes following her hands. Down my stomach, she admires me, looking at me like I’m the most perfect thing she’s ever seen, and out of fucking nowhere, I’m hit with a huge wave of vulnerability. No one has ever looked at me like this. No one. Shit, and now my throat is tight. What the fuck is happening?

“Pres,” I say, voice rough with emotion, and she lifts her eyes to mine. She’s so stunning, her green eyes sparkling as she looks at me, hanging on my every word. I sigh and run a hand over her wet hair, my other hand sliding down her waist. 

“Cols?” she questions when I don’t say anything else. Her hands continue to stroke my stomach, my hips. I swallow the lump in my throat and keep looking at her. I can’t say anything. My throat is too tight. She softens a little and smiles gently at me. “I know, baby,” she murmurs. “I know.” She leans in and kisses me, and the kiss is everything. It’s so full of love and care, and I realize all at once that this is it. There’s no one else for me. Presley is my present and my future. I’ll never feel for anyone the things I feel for Presley. 

I wrap her up in my arms and hold her so tightly that my arms tremble a little. I’m realizing that for the first time, I might actually make love instead of fuck. The vulnerability is so striking that it scares me, but I can be vulnerable with Presley. I’ve always been able to. 

We hurry through the rest of our shower and once we’re dried off, I grab Pres by the hips and back her slowly into the room. She watches me the whole time, trusting me to get her safely to my bed. Once the backs of her knees hit the bed, she sits. Her hands are all over me: my waist, my stomach, my chest. My ass, my dick. At this point, I’m so hard that I’m leaking but it doesn’t matter. Tonight is about Presley and showing her that sex doesn’t need to be scary. It can be safe and loving. Shit, I’m learning as much as she is. 

“Get in bed, baby,” I tell her, and she does as she’s told, pulling back the covers to slide between my soft sheets. She sighs in pleasure and scoots over to make room for me. I crawl in beside her and slide my palm over her stomach, feeling the way it tenses slightly. I swear to god, her eyes haven’t left mine since we got here. 

Finally, we’re lying side by side in my bed, with no plans for the day, no reason to rush, and no one else around. We have all the time in the world together, just like we did in The Maldives, and I know that relaxes Presley, knowing she doesn’t have to rush. I know she’s scared. Of course she is. Having sex for the first time is a big deal whether or not people like to pretend it isn’t. I need this to be good for Presley, to be special. She deserves it, especially after holding out for so long.

For now, all I want to do is kiss her. I pull her closer so her leg drapes over my waist, and as my hand slides down the curve of her back, I press my mouth to hers. Her little sigh travels right to my cock and I groan softly, teasing her lips with my tongue. She opens her mouth for me and I graze my tongue against hers, teasing her. I love the way she tastes. 

Rolling her onto her back, I hover over her, taking control over the kiss. Presley is helpless to do anything but moan and pant as I melt her with kisses. I can feel her squirm beneath me, and I know she wants this. I know she’s wet just from kissing me, and I can’t wait any longer to feel her.

I let my fingers trace down her neck, and then I squeeze her breast gently. I love the way her tits fit in my hands, love the way her back arches when my thumbs brush over her sensitive nipples. Love the whines that fall from her lips when I play with her tits. I groan and roll onto my back, pulling her to straddle me so my hands are free. 

She sits up and watches me as I bring both hands up, cupping her breasts before squeezing them gently. She mewls and her head falls back, stomach tensing as I roll my thumbs over her nipples. “Colson,” she whines, hips jerking a little, and I know she’s fucking soaked. She gets wet so easily, so sinfully fucking wet, and I can’t wait to bury myself inside her. 

“Feels good, huh baby?” I say lowly, and she nods, brow furrowing with pleasure. “Yeah. That's my girl.” She practically melts into a puddle at my words, biting down on that sweet bottom lip. “Pres,” I rasp. I can’t stop talking to her. I think she likes it when I talk to her in bed. “Tell me. Are you wet for me, baby?”

“Fuck yes,” she moans, and as she does, she grinds against my bare cock. I let out a stuttering gasp as she slides against me, and instantly, my dick is wet. Holy shit. This girl is going to kill me. Cardiac arrest at 29. This is where it ends. 

“Do that again,” I plead, voice tight as my hands abandon her tits in favor of gripping that ass. Immediately, she does as she’s told, and the way my dick fits against her is too perfect. Suddenly, the words are there on the tip of my tongue. I love you. But I hold them in. Not yet.

“Fuck, Presley,” I grunt as she continues to grind on me, rolling her hips more quickly. She gasps as her hips stutter, and my eyes flick up to her face. She’s in total ecstasy, jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut. I lift my hips on her next grind and those eyes fly open as she cries out, pressing her hands to my chest.

“Ohh, Colson, fuck,” she moans, voice shaky. “Fuck, baby, I–” She doesn’t finish her sentence, and part of me wonders if she’s holding the words back, too. But that doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is the angel falling apart above me right now, rolling her wet pussy against my cock over and over. 

“That’s it,” I groan, digging my fingertips into her ass. “Make yourself come, Pres. Grind that clit on me until you explode.”

“O-ohhh,” Presley whines, hips jerking at my words. “Y-yeah…”

“Come on, baby, tell me you’re close,” I plead.

She nods frantically. “Y-yes, so fucking cl-close, Col.” Her voice is so beautifully broken, and I grip her ass harder so she grinds into me with more pressure, and as she does, her body goes rigid. Her spine straightens up as her breath catches in her throat, and then she wails, spasming against me. She gushes around my cock until I can feel her arousal trickle down my balls. It’s the sexiest, most erotic thing I’ve ever felt. 

When she’s done, she collapses on my chest and pants. I stroke her hair as she comes down, and I focus on the feel of her heartbeat against my chest. When she catches her breath, she lifts her head to look at me. Her hand finds mine and she squeezes. “Hey,” she says softly, those eyes soft and loving as they look at me.

“Pres,” I sigh, kissing her gently. 

“Col, I want you,” she says. “All of you. I’m ready, baby, please.” She sounds almost frantic and all it does is turn me on more, and fuck, I’m definitely coming way too soon tonight. It’s been so long since I’ve been inside someone, and she’s different. I’m in love with her. I’m ten times more attracted to her than I ever have been to anyone else, and I feel like a teenager again, worried about busting the second I get balls deep. 

I swallow hard and gently roll her onto her back. Reaching into my nightstand, I come back with a condom. Her eyes light up a little. “Can I put it on you?” she asks.

I whine lowly in the back of my throat and my cock twitches, reminding me of just how little control I have. “Of course,” I tell her. She wets her lips and takes the packet from me, ripping it open. She pulls out the condom and examines it for a second. I push the blankets down, making it easier for her, and she places it over the crown of my dick. I shudder at the feeling and watch as she rolls the latex down. I don’t mind condoms. Better safe than sorry. I just hope it feels good for her.

Once the condom is on, I shift so I’m hovering over her, and then I get between her legs. “Just relax,” I murmur, leaning in to pepper gentle kisses over her collarbones. I stroke her hips gently, wanting her to be as relaxed and pliant as she possibly can be. This is going to hurt. There’s no way around it. 9 inches is a lot for anyone to take, but especially a virgin. For the first time, I feel guilty about my size. The last thing I want to do is hurt Pres, but I know it won’t always hurt. 

She looks up at me with worried eyes and I kiss her gently. “Baby, I promise I’ll go so slow,” I assure her. “You’re in control here, okay? Do you trust me?”

“More than anything,” she says, pushing my hair back gently. “Just…be careful, okay?”

I nod, kissing her cheek softly. “Deep breath for me.” I reach down and grip my cock, rubbing the tip up and down over her clit. Her ass tightens and her hips lift slightly and she gasps at the sensation, still sensitive from her recent orgasm, I’m assuming. I guide my dick lower until it dips just slightly into her pussy, enough to gather her arousal and disperse it a little more. 

My heart is pounding so fucking hard I feel like I might pass out, and suddenly, I can’t keep it in anymore. I press inside of her, just an inch, and when she hisses, eyes growing worried, I touch her face. “Presley,” I say. “Look at me.” Her eyes find mine and when I see her relax, I know it’s time. I don’t know why, but I laugh softly. “Presley, I love you,” I say finally. 

Pres freezes, studying my face as if she doesn’t believe me, but when she realizes I’m telling the truth, her smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. “Cols,” she says breathlessly. “God. I love you, too.” 

I had no idea how much I needed to hear that. I relax and kiss her hard, and when I do, I slide just a little deeper. She whimpers and I have half a mind to pull out, so scared of hurting her, but then I feel her long nails dig into my asscheeks. “Don’t stop,” she gasps, shuddering beneath me. “S’okay.” 

“You’re doing so fucking good,” I say into her mouth, my legs shaking as I try to take my time. “Keep breathing, my love, keep breathing.” She bites down on my lip gently as I sink deeper inside, a whine keening out of her. We pant into each other’s mouths as slowly, I start to fill her, and holy fuck, she’s so tight. She squeezes my cock so tightly that I can barely breathe. Nothing has ever felt so fucking good before. 

“Almost there,” I tell her tightly, finding her hand and lacing our fingers together. “Doing so good, baby, I love you so much.” 

Presley lets out a helpless little sound and puts her hand to the back of my head. “Colson, I love you,” she whimpers, and when I pull back slightly to look into her eyes, I can see they’re watering. I open my mouth to ask if she needs me to stop, but she shakes her head and shushes me. “This isn’t because it hurts,” she murmurs. It's emotion. Fuck. I’m doing this all right. She feels safe and loved and I did that for her. Finally, I drive myself home with another slow surge of my hips, and Pres gasps. 

“Oh shit,” she mutters.

I look at her, a little worried, but she just laughs breathily. “Cols,” she says. “I’m not a virgin anymore.”

I can’t help but laugh too, and then we’re kissing. It’s messy and wet and passionate and so goddamn perfect. I could kiss her forever. Finally, she makes a soft sound and lifts her hips, giving my asscheek a squeeze. I retract my hips and carefully roll them forward. Presley breaks the kiss to let out a shaky moan, her brows knitting together. “Shit,” she pants.

“This okay?” I ask, and she nods fast. 

“God, yes.” Her voice is so laced with pleasure that I swear to god my balls tighten up. Fuck, I need to try to make this last. 

She’s wet as fuck, seriously soaked, which makes it easier to start sliding in and out of her at a slow pace. “Oh my god,” she chokes out, wrapping one leg around me. “God, Cols, feels so f-fuckin’ good–”

“Uhh, fuck,” I stutter out, unable to help myself, because it feels fucking good for me too. Way too good. My dick is wrapped so tightly in her warm, wet walls, and with every roll of my hips, our abdomens press together. I can feel every inch of the woman I love, and much to my surprise, her eyes aren’t the only ones that are wet. 

Burying my face in her neck, I try to hold back my emotions, but it’s been so long since I’ve cried and I’m scared it’s all going to come pouring out at once. I focus on the heat of her pussy, the feel of her soft skin against mine. Our hands are clutched tightly together and her nipples graze my chest and my abdomen is clenching as I pick up the pace. But Presley is whining and moaning and making the sexiest sounds I’ve ever heard, and she’s enjoying this. I know she is. She doesn’t even have to tell me.

“Presley – fuck!” I gasp, a familiar warmth rising in my stomach after way too short a time. Christ, it hasn’t even been five minutes. “Holy shit, baby, y-you’re gonna make me come,” I manage. 

“Mm,” she moans, digging her nails into my back. “Fuck, Col, I love you, baby, I love you so much!”

It’s her profession of love that does it for me. It’s all too much for my emotions and my body and I let go, coming so hard my vision whites out for a second. I’ve never felt so safe and secure and loved in my whole life, and as I rut against Presley, I wonder how anything could be more blissful than this. 

Finally, once I’m done, I stroke her hip and very gently pull out of her. She whimpers at the emptiness and I shush her gently, sliding down between her legs. I lift them over my shoulders and she looks down at me, panting. “Shh, baby, gonna make you feel better, I promise.” I close my eyes as my tongue meets her swollen clit, and I apply just the right amount of pressure. 

When I close my lips around her clit, I know what’s going to happen. She cries out, legs pressing against my head, and I wrap my hands around those beautiful, trembling thighs. I’m not taking my time here. I’m making her feel better, I’m making her come, and I want to taste every fucking second of it. Letting my tongue drift self-indulgently into her pussy, I groan at the taste there, at the way her arousal is just everywhere. I’ve never been with someone who gets this wet and I go absolutely fucking wild for it.

“Colson!” she cries out, pushing both hands needily into my hair as her body hunches, trembling beneath me. “Ohh, fuck, I’m gonna come–”

I moan against her, pulling her closer as I prepare myself, and my eyes slip closed in pure bliss as she bucks against me, her orgasm causing her pussy to flex against my mouth. I moan, enjoying every second, and god, I don’t want this to end, I want to be back inside her so bad, but that can wait. We have all the time in the world to do this all again. 

Finally, I rest my head against her thigh and pant. We both struggle to catch our breath, her hand still weakly in my hair, my face covered in her release, filled condom still wrapped around my cock. I wince at the latter sensation and finally pull back, rolling the latex off of me. I sigh in relief and toss it into the trash, then settle into bed beside her. 

She rolls her head over to look at me and she’s so blissed out that it takes my breath away. Her green eyes are glazed, her lips are red, and her mouth hangs open. She smiles softly at me and leans in for a kiss. I pull her close, savoring her kiss, and finally hum as I pull back. “Hey,” I murmur. “You need to pee.”

“How would you know?” she scoffs, and I laugh.

“I mean, I don’t know if you have to pee, but you need to so you don’t get an infection,” I explain.

She lifts a brow. “You’re smart, Colson Baker,” she says, and I grin sheepishly. She smiles too and gives me one more kiss before rolling out of bed and walking on trembling legs to the bathroom. “Don’t listen!” she yells from the bathroom and I laugh, rolling onto my back.

“Can’t help it,” I call back. “It’s quiet in here.”

Presley groans and I snicker, burying myself in the blankets to give her some privacy. Holy shit. Presley just gave me her virginity. We told each other we love each other. I can’t believe everything that has happened in such a short period of time. 

I open my eyes when I feel the blankets lift, and I open an arm for my girlfriend, for the woman I love. She settles into my chest and sighs. I smile and kiss her forehead. “I mean it, Pres,” I murmur. “I love you.”

“Yeah,” she says, tracing one of my tattoos. “I mean it, too. I love you, too, Colson.”

I can’t help but smile. I’m not sure I’ll ever get tired of hearing that. “How is this real?” I ask.

Presley laughs softly. “I don’t know. I’m not complaining.”

“You okay, baby?” I ask.

She nods. “Yeah. I really am. It’s you, Col. I trust you so much,” she says, looking up at me. “Thank you for making it perfect. You take such good care of me.”

“I always will,” I tell her, and she softens, leaning in to kiss me. 

As we lie here together in my bed, kissing and cuddling and talking, I realize I’ve never been happier. Presley was right. I should’ve given a relationship a chance. And I’m so glad I did, because Presley is absolutely everything to me. I can see our life together unfolding and it doesn’t scare me. 

All it does is make me super fucking happy.

[cafecourage]

I have been thinking about haikyuu a lot recently and their dynamic in the team compared to how I think the Chain interacts. Please if anyone wants to add on or add their thoughts, even if you haven’t watch the show, it’s always fun to discuss these things! :D

TL DR: Let me tell you about how I think the Chain’s dynamic and reference one of my favorite animes. It’s a lot underneath have fun understanding my tired brain.

Lets start with Time, automatically I am going to say he is the foundation of the chain. Time is the guy that all the boys rely on. Time isn’t flashy, he isn’t the strongest, but he is solid. If Time is out then things start to crumple a bit. Not because there is lower power but like I have been saying Time is reliable. Also I think it’s funny if someone drew Time as Daichi in this scene.

I still laugh at this panel with hindsight. But I genuinely want this.

Warriors is a tactician, he is a setter in the team. I feel like Warriors is the type of person that while he is a strategic and thorough person. He is completely able to vibe with anyone given he has enough time to be with them. This man thinks even in the middle of battle. Yes, while he is an Suga type he also gives me Akaashi or Kenma vibes.

Twilight is an Ace. He is the strongest physically and the most heavy hitter of the group. He is there to do crowd control and break down barriers. He is the tank. I don’t think there is more to be said. If people want someone to be the muscle it’s Twilight. I don’t know who to compare him to tho, he ain’t an Asahi type.

The person that is both a defensive and offensive person is Legend. He is definitely a middle blocker, but the reason I think he can swap at the drop of a hat, is because the amount of stuff he has. He can quickly look at a situation and go “I got something for this” and pull out a magic weapon that will help.

Another person that is a swap is Wild. I think he is like Johzenji the party team. In the way that he is unrefined and easily able to adapt to his surroundings and other people around him. Wild is holding back probably most of the time since he is so used to being alone. That doesn’t mean his attacks are worse, it just means he can be anything, anywhere at anytime in a battle.

Four and Wind are both more defensive fighters. They are both small and had to figure out how to fight people five times their size. Four is obvious he is the Libero of this weird volleyball metaphor. He really is the safety net, he is on the look out to see who need the most help. Because let’s be real in video games normally the smallest enemies are the most annoying ones to fight. Wealthier or not that is true irl I will just say Four will probably make it so. I can see Four mostly helping the heavy hitters to make sure they aren’t blind sided. But he is also probably zooming around the battle field to see who needs the extra hands. I’ve been comparing the boys to people so I guess Noya in this case or Yaku.

Wind, though, is defensive in the same sense of Hinata, where he is the ultimate decoy. Wind needs to be more aggressive in fast and quick succession. He is probably the most chaotic attacker because of it. Yeah, he has training but he is also trained in pirate. There isn’t much to say other than Wind is probably adjusting to more traditional fighting. I mean this boy is probably more similar to Wild in attack style but with the slight formal training. Even then he was trained by an old man in his isolated island village.

Hyrule is a glass cannon. Yes thats because of the blood thing. However, even with that I think Magical wise Hyrule is the most powerful as he doesn’t need items to do his spells. But also his attacks can get out of hand really fast. But he has been using them for a long time and as we saw he can control it pretty good. Ironically the first time I drew Hyrule I gave him freckles because he reminded me of Yamaguchi so if im bias i am bias.

Sky as much as I love him, I don’t know where he would place. Even though he is what started this whole things. Like it’s something to be sad that he killed god, but i don’t think he is necessarily fighting on the offense. Sky is the moral and emotional support, just like Tanaka is to Karasuno. This means more after battle wise where he doesn’t show emotional weakness if something went wrong. Even durring battle he isn’t getting pissed off or outwardly stressed. I suppose he is like time as well where Sky is reliable. But if Sky is taken out it’s more mentally panic as the person that keeps everyone positive is down and is hurt.

Anyway I am going to go watch the stage play again because i miss the music.