#also @ my friends who may read this:

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I'm not going back to Gusu with you.

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[marzipaint]

an enjolras because i miss him

[b-blushes]

i <3 planners/journals/scrapbooks

[toxicrevolver]

Tagged by @smushedmuffin to take this uquiz

Thanks for the tag!!!

My day has been far too long to explain to y’all how badly this has called me out right now.

Tagging (me pressure): @serendipminie @loveable-sea-lemon @we-survive-endlessly @haahka and anyone else who wants to participate can blame me

[gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu]

MY BEAUTIFUL RIPTIDE OCS... their names are catalina and milo avery <3 catalina's a water genasi, and milo's a tiefling :] !!

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Between Sonic and Tails, who do you think would end up confessing their feelings first?

Good question. Definitely depends upon the iteration and context, but for the most part (at least in my head) getting either of them to confess (and in some cases even ruminate on their feelings and admit to themselves the nature of them) is hard

Like, for example, I personally think that game!Sonic (and post sgw Archie Sonic and IDW Sonic) kind of take Tails' presence for granted in a way. To them, it will always be the two of them (Sonic and Tails). The ideal future is that they keep on hanging out and still fight side by side sometimes and that even if Sonic goes it alone he can always come back from his adventures to chill with Tails or crash at his place. In other words, in Sonic's fantasies of the future, things like getting married or raising families or anything like that are just kind of tacked on as something that will just kind of be true at best and ignored at worst. If he even considers a future where things are a bit different because Tails is together™ with someone, to him it's only natural that Tails would be in his life the same way and nothing would really change. And so to that end, even if Sonic DOES realize his own feelings, he probably wouldn't see any good reason to confess. It would make things more complicated, especially if Tails doesn't share those feelings, and he doesn't have to worry anyways because Tails will always prioritize the two of them and be at his side, right?

And then it's even worse for versions of Sonic more akin to, say, pre sgw Archie Sonic. This is because in addition to the already existing unwillingness to change things and the assumption that he doesn't ever have to worry about no longer being the center of Tails' world (or a major figure in it at least), there is some palpable internalized homophobia within that hedgehog with an added complexity. For Archie Sonic in particular, I think even if he realized that he wanted to even be with Tails forever in a strictly non brothers fashion, he would feel mixed feelings about that (perhaps that coming out about it would ruin things or make things weird, or that getting together with Tails at any point would deprive him of "normalcy", or that he'd pressured Tails into it, or even just weird or a bit creepy).

As for Tails, I actually think that most iterations of him have figured their feelings out by this point. In all honesty, there's only so long you can go on fixating on someone and admiring them, and structuring your life around them before you realize your "I want to be with them" isn't just about simply admiring them. It's just that Tails' main obstacle to me is the avoidance of ruining anything.

On one hand, there's Sonic's avoidance to being tied down. We've seen time and time again Sonic rejecting people who pursue him openly or looking uncomfortable with them. Archie Sonic in particular made it clear that this version of Sonic couldn't stand the idea of not being able to freely be himself or adventure. He couldn't stand the idea of having to tie himself down and taking on extra responsibilities and expectations simply because he's with someone. I can see Tails being afraid that by confessing, he could scare Sonic away. If he happened to confess and Sonic thought Tails meant to stifle him or Sonic felt uncomfortable by that open expression, wouldn't that risk their relationship? Even if Sonic wouldn't go so far as to drop him as a best friend (which he never would do that for the record), there's still real fear in making things weird or different between himself and Sonic.

And that feeds right into the other hand. On the other hand, Sonic probably doesn't see him that way, right? Though Sonic is special to him and Sonic also cares for him back, at best Sonic has never thought about it and never will, or he just wouldn't feel the same (in Tails' eyes). With Archie Tails in particular, even if Tails gets over his own interlized homophobia about it and recognizes his feelings for what they are, he probably feels that there's no way to be anything different than a brother to Sonic, and thus confessing would be a terrible move. If Tails confesses and Sonic doesn't feel the same, it also runs the risk of making things weird between them or (in Tails' eyes) ruining it.

All this to say that my general opinion is that as long as things stay exactly the way they are forever, even if they start spending even more time together, I find it hard to believe either of the two will opt into confessing on purpose

But, with that being said, a confession is not an impossibility. I don't think either of the two are immune to being put in a position where they finally confess (and no, with the state of things for them, simply saying "I love you" will not count as a confession). And if we barred situations where like. They're literally about to die or one can do anything they like without the other (or themselves) remembering the outcome, I actually can give you an answer

And honestly, if one of them had to confess eventually, I believe it would probably end up being Sonic.

Why? Well, out of the two, Tails actually sits back and thinks about his emotions more often than not. I think even before he figured out the exact nature of his feelings he knew he felt very strongly for Sonic. But, no matter which media you're touching upon, I feel as if Tails fits into that archetype of "person who has been in love with their best friend since literally forever, but knows their best friend will never feel the same". The longer Tails ruminates on these feelings, the stronger he feels them, the more he watches Sonic (especially as someone who cares about plenty of people other than him), the more time he spends with Sonic, the less incentivized he feels to actually confess. Especially if Sonic would never feel the same, the best Tails can hope for is that things stay the same between them and Sonic never replaces his role.

Or in short, Tails is so in his head about it at this point, it's very hard to convince him that confessing is ever a good idea or necessary.

But while Tails is more obviously attached to Sonic, Sonic is much less obviously attached to Tails and other people as a whole. With him being "free as the wind" and the kind of figure he is, he kind of benefits from having the persona of a guy who doesn't need his friends but (nevertheless) can be assisted by them. He probably seems cool for being so strong and independent while equally caring that people live. But this doesn't mean Sonic doesn't have attachments (far from it). Rather, for Sonic, his attachments to others seem to naturally grow. And the more time he spends with them, the more he grows used to their presence. And especially with someone like Tails, who has been around as his companion the longest, he doesn't sit around long enough to consider that Tails would ever leave his side. Once he grows used to that person, he doesn't have to recognize his attachment or even think about the nature of his own feelings because it is and always has been whatever it is. So, in other words, even if he becomes more and more reliant on the fact that Tails will always be around or that Tails will always assist him, he doesn't have to admit more than "This is what our best friendship is. This is what it's like"

All of this is to say that while my idea of present Tails would be trying to do anything in his power to stay with Sonic (as long as Sonic is willing of course), even if that means never confessing the exact nature of his feelings for the hedgehog, Sonic isn't already thinking about these things. This means that while Tails has very few pathways to confession, Sonic has plenty!...if you scare him well enough.

For example, Idw Sonic has been more clearly spending more time with Tails (even baseline just. Crashing at his place more often) after the metal virus arc. Couple this with post neo metal incident 2 electric boogaloo idw Sonic who just wants to have a break and live peacefully for a minute, this is a Sonic who has become scared enough to want to indulge in spending more time with Tails. I also think that post Sonic Prime Sonic is also a version of him who would start to spend more time with Tails than before after having already lost him and having to deal with the Tails shaped hole in his life once.

So, if you got a Sonic to the point where he'd fully accepted his feelings and he felt like confessing them would be necessary to secure the future he wants, then he'd confess. Honestly, the easiest way I'd see this going about would be a story where Tails is framed as leaving him to go do something or be somewhere else, away for Sonic, possibly indefinitely, or if Sonic actually has to spend enough time without Tails after initially telling himself his own feelings wouldn't matter so long as Tails is happy wherever he is. But, if it came down to confessing being something that might actually bring Sonic to his desired future (especially if Tails rejecting him is no different from prolonging the separation they already have if he says nothing), then I think he could work up the courage to do it.

And in the end...I think it has to be Sonic. Although I on occasion enjoy fantasizing about moments where Tails can't take it anymore and confesses, only for Sonic to realize his own feelings in the process, I think that Sonic would have to be the one who confesses his feelings/wishes for the future for Tails to even believe that his pipe dreams are a possibility. I think it's Sonic who would need to pull Tails out of his head, because the probability that Tails works up the courage to confess is more unlikely.

So...yeah. In my head, Sonic is driven to a point where he confesses and pulls Tails out of his head about it.

[maipronouncedmay]

fantasy smp Martyn!

Haven't watched it yet, but I hope to! Doing dragon designs has always been fun, and I even did a dnd style of dragonborn Martyn for fun. Probably gonna make another post with it colored.

[sharry-arry-odd]

If Marx at twenty-two had a problem, it was that he was attracted to too many things and people. Marx's favorite adjective was "interesting." The world seemed filled with interesting books to read, interesting plays and movies to see, interesting games to play, interesting food to taste, and interesting people to have sex with and sometimes even to fall in love with. To Marx, it seemed foolish not to love as many things as you could.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, by Gabrielle Zevin

[essektheylyss]

Rereading Game of Thrones for the first time since high school is wild, because most of what I remember from my friend group all reading them was which characters the boys made fun of, namely Sansa and Bran and Catelyn, and the girls defending them, and now I'm like, I knew we were correct even if we were partially being spitefully contrarian for the sake of it but it is really apparent in retrospect how correct we were.

[coquelicoq]

was telling a friend about the double today and got to the part where jiang li stops xue fangfei from killing herself by saying she has to live because she can't get revenge if she's dead. and my friend was like wait what french novel does this remind me of? and i was like babe. it reminds you of the count of monte cristo. the double is better though.

[scionshtola]

ardor

pairing: Corisande Ymir/Y'shtola Rhul word count: 2.1k | rated: Explicit | read on ao3 notes: another fic in the rodeo au verse, where Y'shtola is a geologist come to survey the land of the ranch that Cori works on [divider credit]

Seated in the passenger seat of Corisande’s pickup, Y’shtola was growing increasingly desperate. 

Only a few steps outside the truck’s door was the spot where she and Corisande had first kissed beneath the starlit sky. A long way off the main road, it was the perfect place for both privacy and a picturesque view, the green and flowered countryside stretching in all directions. 

Kisses had come easily since then. Chaste brushes of their lips when Y’shtola left the ranch for the day; sweet, smiling kisses an hour or two later, their legs dangling from the bed of the truck; featherlight against her knuckles when they helped her out of the truck; deep and lingering against the door of her motel room when they saw her to her door at night. 

To Y’shtola’s dismay, they had yet to progress beyond that. It wasn’t for a lack of desire on her part, and didn’t seem to be for Corisande either—she felt their hands warm on her sides, pulling her closer, and she saw the reluctance when they pulled away from her, their hesitancy when they parted for the night. 

But they did pull away every time, their hands staying sweetly on Y’shtola’s waist or the back of her neck, leaving them both wanting. More and more Y’shtola found herself distracted by the prospect of sleeping with them. Her mind drifted to the ways they might touch her, with competent hands used to hard work, and the ways she might return the favor, with the kind of zeal she typically reserved for mapping the ground she worked on. 

She’d had a moment of shining hope earlier in the evening: she and Corisande on the picnic blanket after sharing the meal they’d packed, her legs thrown over theirs as they traded kisses, Corisande’s hand on her bare knee below the hem of her dress. Until Corisande pulled away, their cheeks warm, muttering about getting Y’shtola back to her motel before it grew too late. 

But even now, as she waited for Corisande to get in the truck, Y’shtola wasn’t completely without hope. She would simply have to be more direct. 

Corisande slid gracefully into the truck and, just as Y’shtola had hoped, leaned down to kiss her. Slow, lingering, all the time in the world in this space between the end of their date and dropping Y’shtola off at her room. 

Y’shtola seized her opportunity. She slipped her hand lightly up the back of Corisande’s neck until she could tangle her fingers in the thick curls of their hair. They responded in kind, cupping her neck gently, their thumb gliding across her jaw and, encouraged, Y’shtola pressed forward. She rose slowly to her knees on the bench seat, kissing Corisande deeply as she moved closer.

She half expected Corisande to pull back—this was already more intimate than they had yet been. Instead, she grinned into the kiss when Corisande’s hands found her waist, pulling her closer.

She wriggled her way into Corisande’s lap, uncomfortably caught between the hard leather of the steering wheel and their chest. Perhaps she could maneuver them to the other side of the cab, or onto their back—or onto her back, Corisande’s lean muscle on top—

“Y’shtola.” Corisande pulled back slightly, her fingers curling into the fabric at Y’shtola’s waist. Y’shtola paused, biting back a desperate sigh at the touch—how she longed to feel it beneath her dress, her deft hands against her skin. She waited, forehead pressed to Corisande’s, giving her time—if not space— to voice her thoughts.

But hardly a second passed before Corisande leaned forward again, chasing Y’shtola’s lips with her own. She kissed her deeply, clutching at Y’shtola’s hips until she was flush against her. 

Delighted by the turn of events, Y’shtola slipped a hand between them, plucking at the buttons of Corisande’s plaid shirt. She had undone half of them and slipped her hand inside their shirt, cupping their breast through the tank top they wore beneath, before they pulled away again.

Y’shtola sat back, ignoring the way the steering wheel pressed into her back. The setting sun cast a golden light through the partially rolled down windows, falling warmly across Corisande’s face. She pulled her hand away from their chest and cupped their cheek instead, an ache in her chest forming under their open, searching look. 

“What is it?” she asked gently, not wanting to startle her. Despite the hesitancy, there was a longing in Corisande’s expression that she did not wish to extinguish. Whatever was holding her back, they could only work through it if Corisande shared.

Corisande swallowed, and seemed to change her mind. “Nothing,” she said, her eyes darting to Y’shtola’s lips. “It’s nothing.”

Y’shtola would not let them away so easily. She curled a finger under Corisande’s chin, lifting their face to hers, a hairsbreadth of space between their lips, but did not close the gap. “Corisande,” she said, gently but firmly, and a tiny thrill trilled down her spine at the way their eyelids briefly fluttered closed, their breath quickening against her lips. “Tell me.”

“I like you,” Corisande said in a rush of breath. Her grip on Y’shtola’s waist tightened reflexively, and Y’shtola’s pulse thrummed in her body at the pressure. Every place their bodies touched was a beacon of heat against her skin, and she had to hold herself still against the urge to press closer.  “A lot.”

“I gathered that much.” An obvious admission, but it pleased her to hear it anyway. A small bloom of warmth unfurled inside her and she leaned down, rewarding them with a kiss. “I feel the same.”

“I know,” Corisande said, their tone so perfectly pleased and sincere that Y’shtola could not help but smile. She felt their own grin when she kissed them again. “I just thought—I wanted the first time we—”

Corisande cut herself off, heat blooming in her cheeks. “I was just waiting for the right moment, is all.”

Y’shtola brushed a wayward curl out of Corisande’s face. “That’s very sweet.” Romantic. A complicated tangle of emotions knotted itself in her stomach. She’d never had much time or use for romance before, not when casual sexual relationships could get the job done without any distractions from her studies. She was still growing used to the way Corisande did things—the dates after work, the walking her to her door, the slow dances under the light of the moon. Things she hadn’t even known she would enjoy until it was Corisande doing them for her. Doing them with her. 

Maybe she could return the favor. 

“I suppose I was holding out for somewhere nicer than my truck,” Corisande said, still sounding a bit sheepish, though she kept her gaze on Y’shtola. 

Y’shtola leaned forward again, not quite brushing her lips against theirs. “Do you want to kiss me, Corisande?”

Their eyes dropped to her lips as they answered. “Yes.”

The corners of Y’shtola’s lips lifted into a satisfied smile. She lowered herself into their lap, her chest flush against theirs when she pressed a kiss to the side of their neck. “Do you want to touch me?”

She couldn’t see Corisande’s expression now, but her breathily exhaled “Yes” was more than enough encouragement. Y’shtola traced the buckle of Corisande’s belt with one finger, tapping the center, and asked, “Do you want me to touch you?”

Corisande’s chest hitched before she answered. “I do.”

“Then I would say now is the right moment, wouldn’t you?” Y’shtola pressed another kiss to their neck, just to drive home her reasoning. 

She had just enough time to glimpse Corisande’s growing grin before they kissed her. The urgency that had driven Y’shtola to this moment returned, twice over, echoed back to her in the way their mouth met hers—hot and open and seeking. She resumed her earlier task, undoing the remaining buttons of Corisande’s shirt and sliding her hand beneath their tank top. She felt the quiver of their belly beneath her touch as she glided her hand over their skin, felt their gasp against her lips when she took the slight weight of their breast in her hand, rolling her palm across their nipple.

Corisande’s own hands were busy, gliding over Y’shtola’s arms, chest, waist, heat trailing in their wake that left her craving their touch on bare skin. Their fingers traced the neckline of her dress, skimming the top of her breasts. They moved down her body, cupping and kneading through her dress, lower and lower until their hands rested on her knees, thumbs running soothing circles over her skin. 

And then finally, finally, Corisande’s hands found their way beneath her skirt, moving decisively up her thighs to the join between Y’shtola’s legs. She brushed against her lightly, but before Y’shtola could admonish her for teasing, Corisande pushed her underwear aside with a touch that brought a whimper from her lips. She canted her hips, seeking more of their touch—warm, deft, sure, just as she had imagined it would be.

Corisande broke away from her mouth, trailing kisses down the side of her neck. She followed her fingers' earlier path across the neckline of Y’shtola’s dress and Y’shtola, impatient and desperate, reached down and tugged at the ties until the front of her dress fell open. She cupped her own breast, lifting it, pleased when Corisande’s head dipped lower to meet the gesture with her lips. 

A knot formed once more, the threads of Y’shtola’s pleasure coalescing into a bright, hot, point low inside her. She gripped tightly at the seat behind Corisande, holding herself up while they kissed her, touched her, the rhythm of their fingers growing faster, more urgent. A well timed flick of their tongue across Y’shtola’s nipple coincided with a brush of their palm against her clit, and the threads of her pleasure pulled taut. 

She moaned, her back arching, her fingers grasping at the leather beneath them. Corisande wrapped an arm around her waist and Y’shtola sagged against her, letting her do the work of holding her up, her hands and lips still moving against Y’shtola as she rode her climax out. 

Corisande seemed intent on building her to her peak once more—and, Y’shtola suspected, likely beyond once more. But Y’shtola’s thoughts in the previous days had involved much more reciprocal scenarios.

Y’shtola made quick work of Corisande’s belt and the button on her jeans. A soft sound escaped Corisande when Y’shtola’s fingers pressed against her center, already slick with her desire. Y’shtola fixated on the sound with a greedy desire, desperate to draw it out of her as she dipped inside her, to capture the sound with her lips as they kissed. Corisande’s head tipped against the  window behind her, eyes closed, and this was better than anything Y’shtola’s imagination had conjured—Corisande under her, soft and warm around her fingers, breath hitching in her chest, one hand clutching desperately at Y’shtola’s waist, the other creating an erratic rhythm between Y’shtola’s legs.

It was not long before Corisande came with a soft, quiet cry. Y’shtola kissed her through it, savoring the slight pain of Corisande’s fingers digging into her waist, a delicious heat pulsing within her. She kept kissing her even as she steadied, as Corisande’s hands picked up its pace—not quite as gentle or as clever as before, but just as sure, just as capable of bringing Y’shtola gasping over the edge.

After, Y’shtola rested her head on their shoulder, and a strange contentment fell over her. Not just with having sated her desire, or theirs, but also with the way they held each other, with Corisande’s lips brushing a featherlight kiss to her forehead. If they had not been cramped in the driver's seat of Corisande’s pickup, she might’ve wanted to stay in the circle of their arms a while longer. 

Y’shtola pushed herself up and leaned back as far as the steering wheel would allow. With another touch to their chin, she lifted Corisande’s face until she could meet their gaze. She had only meant to kiss them before shifting back into her own seat, but the sun had not quite finished setting, and she was caught once more by the way the light fell across them. Gold limned the curve of their cheek, their parted lips, the disarrayed splay of the hair that framed their face.

“What is it?” Corisande asked, amusement evident beneath her curiosity.

“You’re beautiful,” Y’shtola answered, a simple declaration of fact. A feeling she did not yet want to name welled in her then, more than affection or that strange contentment, more than simple want or need. 

And then Corisande smiled at her, her green eyes bright, and Y’shtola’s stomach swooped in a way she had long thought herself inured against, and it didn’t matter that she would not name the feeling, because there was no denying its presence. 

But she didn’t have to think on it for long, because Corisande leaned forward to kiss her. Y’shtola, allowing herself back in the warm circle of Corisande’s arms, met her in the middle. 

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A drawing of @mieczmaszyna 's character Izzy. In the words of its creator, Izzy is a humanoid robot with a white chassis, oval head, black headset, square green glasses, claws, and a tail resembling a cable plug. Ai wears a cowboy hat, vest decorated by a star and bottle cap, pants with tassels, spurred boots, and a red bandanna. He's viewed from the side, kicking up one leg and holding both arms out in front of itself to shoot finger guns, looking excited and rather jaunty. The background is a dull yellow-green, muddied by the warm reddish tone of the drawing, and in paler green are the words "BANG BANG!!" by ais arms. End ID]

robot cowboy!!!

[californiaboytoybilly]

Look. At. Me.

Tigerfreak || NSFW 18+ || Jealousy || Smut (with a little plot because I can’t help it) || 3.2k

cw: Cursing, possessiveness, jealousy, semi-public sex, handjobs, biting, unestablished relationship, dacryphilia, liberal use of the word queer, miscommunicated feelings, a little bit of degradation if you squint and turn your head to the left, vague references to religious guilt from an outsider perspective.

They’re in love but don’t let them hear you say that.

Ao3 Version: Here

Eddie was possessive of the things- the people - he coveted.

A wild creature of teeth and tongue and nails, leaving bruises and bites along his way so that they could not look upon their skin without remembering him. A clinging echo summoned back when fingertips dug into damaged skin as they tried to wash him away later.

Leaving a stain of himself behind, a thin sheen of oil that nothing could ever quite scrub clean from their squeaky clean facades. Bitter on the back of their tongues.

All that to say, he wasn’t particularly pleased when people touched the things he’d claimed as his.

And inexplicably, Jason Carver had become his. In a strange, obsessive way that had he cared even a little more to pay attention to, he might have acknowledged wasn’t exactly healthy. They still snarled in the lunchroom, trading sharp barbs and insults. Opposite sides of the same tarnished coin- everyone saw that.

Nobody got to see the way Carver’s tawny skin would flush with rosy patches in the dim light of some maintenance closet or dark, dark corner at a party.

How his years of being an obedient little church boy had trained him to do well on his knees, ocean blue eyes swallowed nearly entirely by the wide blown pupils that told on him if he dared to act unaffected by the weight of Eddie in his mouth.

Nobody got to see the delicious way he sobbed when he was fracturing at the seams, a cocktail of pleasure and bubbling shame at how badly he wanted this sinful thing fizzing up under his skin, making his hands shake and his chest heave under his little silver cross.

The way he looked when all that built up energy had nowhere to go but out, ridiculously long eyelashes clumping as salty tears spilled over his cheeks and he slammed his eyes shut so he didn’t have to look at Eddie even accidentally as he came.

It was intoxicating.

In the present, he could hear his own jaw click into place as he tried not to focus on anything else going on in the locker room and failed miserably. Fucking jocks and their definitely not queer touchy bullshit. Butt ass naked and shoving each other around, snickering and dripping from the showers.

He usually just tried to skip gym entirely just to avoid the choice between getting in the shower with a bunch of his peers who wouldn’t hesitate to break his nose if they thought his gaze wandered somewhere it shouldn’t, and smelling like a damp armpit for the rest of the day.

Not that he actually had an interest in leering at them, but they didn’t care. Rumours had a way of digging their claws in deep, burrowing in like a parasite until they could control each jerk of your arms as you reacted to the world around you- especially ones that were true, regardless of if his peers could prove it or not.

If it talks like a queer, walks like a queer and dresses like a queer…

This reason alone was why he couldn’t believe it to be a coincidence in any capacity when Billy Hargrove locked eyes with him from across the room as Eddie turned to shove his grey shirt and athletic shorts into his cluttered locker, tearing his eyes away from where they’d been burning a hole in the back of Jason’s head a moment prior.

His brassy blond curls were dripping wet, skin flushed from the heat, and naked as the day he was born. Eddie kind of hated him, just on principle- the audacity he had to look like that.

Billy held his gaze, making the back of Eddie’s neck itch. People tended to dodge his eyes like he’d take root in their brains if they lingered too long, so the unexpected interaction made him prickle anxiously. Billy’s lips curled into a lazy smirk, staring him down like he knew something, twirling a damp white washcloth between his fingers.

Eddie didn’t notice his muscles bunching in preparation for the strike until the crack resounded throughout the locker room. Dark eyes darted just slightly to the left as a familiar voice broke on a sharp exclamation.

Jason had a startled hand on his ass, red blush high on the plains of his cheeks, rubbing at the spot with a grimace. Eddie’s eyes darted between the rag in Hargrove’s hand and the warmed patch of skin as long as he dared to linger, tasting copper as he bit down on his tongue.

Because while Jason was doing his best to look annoyed, fluffy damp hair askew around his face and mouth hauled now into a scowl that he aimed towards the Californian transplant, Eddie knew better. He knew that flush. That skittish, dark look in his eye as his fingers nervously darted up to curl around the chain of his cross.

Even if Eddie couldn’t read him like a picture book, the way he hurriedly grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist was enough of a tell. It boiled Eddie’s blood, little knives scratching up his skin from the inside.

The world took on a green tinge as Eddie hurriedly started to yank on his clothes. That would’ve finished a lot faster, of course, if he’d been smart enough to not wear his lace up boots today.

He barely even noticed as everyone began to file out of the locker room, jaw clenched tight until even Billy’s shadow was out of sight, hot on Harrington’s heels as usual.

If Eddie snuck a glare at his retreating back out of pure petty jealousy, that was his own business.

He usually liked the guy well enough. He could be an ass, but he was a good customer. Eddie even let him stay and smoke more often than not, something he was picky with. He was funny when he didn’t have his rusty nail chainmail of a public personality on.

Right now, however, he wanted to staple his shirt directly to his skin so he couldn’t walk around looking like chiselled bronze all while pissing him off, touching things that weren’t his.

When he calmed down enough to bother looking around, the locker room was completely empty save for him and Carver. Both dressed now, and ignoring each other.

A dangerous thought seized him before he could battle it back, then.

It was the last class of the day and- as far as Eddie knew- no teams had practice Wednesday evenings. He barely had time to acknowledge that justification before he was crossing the room, flipping Jason around by the shoulder at the same time as he pushed him into the lockers.

The blond widened his eyes, gaze flitting to the doors. “Let go of me.“ He hissed, eyes flattening and lip curling. Like an angry little cat, Eddie thought idly. “Anybody could-“

“You didn’t seem to mind when you were having your ass whipped in front of the entire class.” Eddie said, false smile dripping sweetness.

Jason scoffed in his face, scowling again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He denied, but the pink was crawling back into his cheeks again.

Caught.

Vision still bathed in emerald and blood pumping, Eddie leaned more into his personal space, nearly head to head. “Oh really?”

He wedged his knee between Jason’s thighs, pinning him to the lockers even tighter with a metallic thunk that had the blond wincing. But he had his answer, hot and unmissable pressed against his leg.

“That’s not what I feel.”

Jason was still trying to look angry, weakly shoving at his chest as though to get him off. But Eddie knew damn well that he was strong enough to remove him if he really wanted to.

He’d done it before, when Eddie provoked him a little too far.

The jock’s eye twitched, hips shifting restlessly like he was trying to fight the urge to move them with purpose. “What does it matter to you if I did?” He said, tone bitter as he jerked his chin up haughtily. “You don’t own me, Freak.”

Eddie growled under his breath, “Wrong fucking answer.”

He crashed their lips together in something a little too mean to be considered a kiss, dragging a wounded sound from the blond. He seemed to give up the fake fight, fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of Eddie’s neck and pulling.

Like the action was a ripcord travelling directly to his dick, Eddie groaned. Jason used the pause to rip away, panting for breath and with a frenzied glint in his eye. “Not here.” He repeated again, jaw set stubbornly.

Eddie rolled his eyes, taking a step back as his hand locked around Jason’s wrist. He yanked him along after back into the showers, invisible from either door. “Good enough, princess?”

Jason managed to get him in the ribs with an elbow then in response to that. Eddie sucked a strained breath in between his teeth but otherwise refused to acknowledge it.

“Don’t call me that.”

Despite his earlier bitching, Jason was the one to press in this time, already heated in a way that scratched the little itch that had been licking at his spine since that cloth whipped through the air.

He smelled of his usual- probably overpriced- body wash, a heady floral scent that had infuriatingly started to creep into his fantasies at night when he was trying to think of literally anybody else.

Eddie was doing his very fucking best to ignore any and all implications of that fact.

As his lips began to trail a burning path along the side of Jason’s jaw, an idea flashed through his mind that instantly was stoked by the no longer dying flame of possessiveness from before.

Because Jason always tried not to look at him and Eddie usually didn’t care. But he wanted to be the sole focus of Jason’s attention right now- another thought he wouldn’t be touching with a ten foot pole.

Hungry hands travelled down impatiently, neither of them in any mood to drag this out. Jason muttered a curse as Eddie yanked at the ties of his basketball sweats, loosening the waistband just enough to shove them down to mid thigh.

Eddie breathed out harshly through his nose as fingers rubbed over the hard line of him trapped beneath too tight denim, hand slipping under the waistband of Jason’s underwear.

Fishing him out, he felt Jason shudder against him at the feeling of the still hot and sticky air back on his sensitive skin. Eddie eyed the other man for a moment, where he was impatiently rocking on his heels for Eddie to initiate something past them just standing here.

Unfortunately for him, Eddie had no plans on letting him escape unshaken this time. He’d burn himself into the back of Jason’s eyes if he had to.

Popping the button on his jeans and yanking the zipper open, Eddie once again bracketed the other against the nearest flat surface- this time, the shower wall.

“What are you doing?” Jason asked, voice barely a rasp. This wasn’t how they usually did these things.

Eddie held his gaze for a second, lifting a hand up and spitting lewdly into his palm. Jason scrunched his nose, still eyeing him warily.

But then Eddie dropped his hand, slotting their bodies together at the perfect angle for him to wrap his long fingers around both of them at the same time.

“Close your eyes and I stop.” He taunted with a mean squeeze, his own breath catching in his throat at the sensation as he started to move.

“Wh-“ Jason arched his lower back off the wall, a tiny little ah! being punched out of him. “What?”

“You heard me.” Eddie grunted, picking up the pace he was pumping them at just a little. Jason apparently thought he was bluffing, however, as a wavered moan left his mouth and his eyes started to slip closed.

Eddie snarled in annoyance, abruptly stopping his hand. Jason’s eyes shot open in surprise, lips parting like he was gonna start bitching before it seemed to click in his head.

“You’re serious?” He asked, tone incredulous.

“What do you think?” Eddie breathed, free hand coming up to grab Jason’s chin and drag his focus forward. Only once Jason was looking at him properly again did he once again start moving his other hand.

Something in his chest clenched tight before expanding, fizzling up around the cork like a shaken bottle of champagne.

Jason’s throat bobbed, eyes wide and startled like a prey animal under the fog of need coating them. His gaze flickered, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that he couldn’t disappear into his brain, whoever it was he usually thought about just out of reach.

That thought alone made a primal something that had been scratching around in Eddie’s skull finally curl up and relax, temporarily soothed.

“Am I serious?” He prodded, breath fanning over Jason’s face. He twisted his hand, thumb sliding up the sensitive underside of his cock with a hiss. “Tell me, Jason. Do I mean it?”

It was supposed to sound teasing. Taunting. It just came out uncomfortably desperate.

The blond tensed at the vocalisation of his first name, something Eddie never called him. It was always insults and surnames, the abrupt change was clearly throwing the other for a loop.

“Quit- hng- acting like you’re in love with me.” Jason huffed through a groan. If Eddie didn’t feel like he’d been punched currently, he might have noticed the way Jason’s voice trembled as he spoke the words. Anxious and strained.

“In your fucking dreams.” Eddie spat back, all acid again. But that didn’t stop him either. Ducking down, Eddie sunk his teeth into the meat of Jason’s shoulder hard. Not quite enough to break skin, but damned close. It would definitely leave a mark.

“Ow, fuck!” Jason snapped. Eddie could feel the desperate way he rutted into the metalheads' touch despite his attempt to protest, cock throbbing where it was trapped against Eddie’s own. “What are you? A dog?”

Eddie grinned, a wolfish thing with too many teeth, and let go of Jason’s jaw finally. Instead, he grabbed his hand in what could almost be a romantic hold if you ignored the rest of the situation, spinning a band of silver that adorned one of his fingers.

“Just reminding you for later that your cute little purity ring is bullshit. Guess you’ll have to hope you don’t get put on skins team this week, or everyone will know that as well as I do.”

A low, almost inaudible whine escaped Jason’s throat as his head thumped back against the tile wall. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut, swollen lips parted around every breathless little noise he couldn’t control anymore.

Fracturing. There it was.

A fiery whip tightened behind his navel, coiling tighter and tighter as it prepared to lash out. “Shit-“ Eddie breathed, clamping his teeth down on his lower lip.

They were both close, both too stubborn to acknowledge how quickly they were rocketing to the precipice. There was something different lurking in this exchange, replacing the blood in Eddie’s veins with molten metal and thickening the air between them.

Jason looked seconds away from crumbling and Eddie would not finish first. Not this time, when he already felt concerningly vulnerable in the pit of his stomach.

“You act like you hate that idea but you don’t. Deep down, a little fucked up part of you wants to show it off. Don’t you?”

Jason made a garbled attempt at speech that Eddie thought was supposed to be a warning to shut his mouth, trying to turn his eyes away like he’d forgotten the rules again.

Even though it damn near killed him, Eddie stopped his hand again and squeezed for emphasis. Jason sucked in a sharp breath, body shaking so violently Eddie almost got concerned, a sharp curse and a sob-like noise escaping him before furious eyes snapped back to his.

Eddie had made his point. He started stroking them both again, fast and slick. The noise was obscene, echoing off the shower walls and filling the air around them.

This time, Jason didn’t try to win. His eye contact didn’t waver, even as a fevered look overtook him and his brows creased together in the middle. Eddie could see him start to crack, breaths hitching too fast and tears starting to well up.

The sight of watery blue eyes burned him like a brand, a shove to the back towards the inevitable drop.

“Can’t even tell me I’m wrong.” Eddie whispered as he leaned in, sucking down a greedy lungful of Jason’s hot breath as he hovered ever closer. Jason was almost going crosseyed to try and maintain eye contact now, pride discarded in a desperate attempt to keep Eddie from stopping when he was so close.

Then, Eddie pushed it a little further, reckless with all the conflicting, churning things fighting each other in his chest. “Now say my fucking name or I stop for good.”

Jason looked for all the world like he wanted to spit in Eddie’s face instead, jaw working as another sound ripped free of him and hot tears finally spilled down his cheeks. “Fuck, Mun-“

Eddie’s eyes hardened, fingers tightening threateningly, and Jason corrected himself so fast it would have been amusing in any other situation.

“Eddie-“

That was it. With one expert twist of his hand, Jason lost the battle of wills with the second syllable of his name still on his tongue. He shuddered and stilled as he spilled between them with ragged, high pitched gasps for air.

Eddie followed after him with a grunt, teeth gritting as his head bounced around the sound of his own name falling from Jason’s lips like a backing track. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

Fuck.

The silence in the aftermath was only broken by laboured breathing, both of them looking decidedly anywhere else but at each other now.

All the fight feeling as thought it had been sucked out of him left Eddie feeling exposed in a way he decidedly didn’t like, skin raw and nerves firing unpleasantly. All at once, he realised he was still gripping Jason’s hand, knuckles white and fingers laced.

He dropped it like he’d been burned, ignoring the way Jason was staring at his own fingers and flexing them like he’d never seen them before.

Eddie took a hurried step back, heart banging a new rhythm in his chest. Jason’s attention snapped back to him, stinging like a sunburn, and Eddie flinched. The fear was new.

They didn’t speak as Eddie wiped off his hand and hurriedly yanked his zipper back up, but the brunette could almost feel the questions swirling through the jock’s mind.

Questions he wasn’t going to answer, not even to himself.

Even if he had to run from them.

Without sparing the other boy another glance, Eddie booked it for the exit. His backpack sat neglected and forgotten on the changing bench.

Right before he left, he could’ve sworn he heard a small, unusually timid-

“What the fuck was that?”

What the fuck was that, indeed.

[camzverse]

Nooo cam u dont want to analyze the psychology behind mikes actions in the bite of 83 even though scott didnt put anywhere near your amount of thought into it noo dont do that. freak

[msbhagirathi]

The Madhumati Gupta Buaji Weekly

Mugzeen Adison (Magazine Edition)

Namaste Nandkisore!

Aasaa karat hain ki, nandkisore, aap sab logan theek haai. Hum logan bhi theek haai, nandkisore. Sasi babua bhi ab theek hi haai bas pahile se tanik kamjor hui gaye, chhari ke sahare chalat haain ab. Aoor humka bataye rahe ki oo ki ee halat bhi oo Syaam ki kirpa rahi. Humra mann toh karat raha ki oo sasure ko ek ghumaai ke lagay de ki jindagi bhar phir aisan kucho karat ki jurrat naa karihe, haa.

Chalo choro babua/bitiya. Arre nandkisore ab tanik aapan baat bhi karau, ghar mein sab logan theek haai na? Tohre Amma-Bauji, tohri kauno humre jaisan Buaji hau toh oo sab theek haai na, nandkisore?

Ab kaa batyay tohka, nandkisore. Kal parso ki baat rahi, Sanka Devi aayi gayi phudakti-phudakti Laxminagar. Humka kahine lagi ki Arnav babua ke daftar mein kauno mugzeen-wugzeen ke khaatir humka kucho likhna haai. Hum kahe ki ab nandkisore humre jamane mein toh hum aoor tohre phuphaji itni chitthi likhat rahe ki bas pucho naahi. Toh oo kahi ki theek haai buaji aap chitthi likh ke humko bataay dena hum aa kar le jayenge, ab humri buddhi bhi umar ke kaaran mand pari rahi, oo ka jaaye ke baad, hum bhi bhul gaye nandkisore.

Saara kaam karke aaike baithe the, ki oo ka fone aayi gaya, humka puchi ki chhitthi likhe haai ki naahi, toh hum kahe, nandkisore, kaam mein thora byast hoyi gaye the, abhi likhat rahe.

Ab hum kaa bataay, nandkisore, humri jindagi mein kauno bataane layak khaas toh kucho haai nahi. Athaarah (18) ke the, amma-bauji ne byaah karaaye diya, tohre phuphaji un dino rail maashter kaa kaam karat rahe. Byaah ke baad humka liye eehan Delhi aayi gaye Laxminagar, ab nandkisore tabahu se hum idhar hi rahat haai.

[Buaji aur phuphaji honeymoon ke liye puri dilli ghume the. Phuphaji jab bhi kaam ke wajah se dusri jagah jaate toh wahan se buaji ko chitthi likhte the. ~Buaji ki pyaari SD ;)]

Sabahu theek chalat raha tha. Byaah ke teen saal baad, ek din khabar mili ki kauno train mein aag lag gayi haai, aoor bohut logan ki jaan gayi haai, a phir hum bhi chakkar kaat kaat kar thak gaye, nandkisore, daftar se aspataal aoor aspataal se phir daftar, phir unke daftar se ek din chhitthi aaye ki tohre phuphaji toh milat naahi toh unki penson ki raakam ab humko mila karegi, hum bohut roye oo din.

Bohut hi ache insaan the, nandkisore, hum behad prem karat the, ab kaa karaein, oo din ke baad se hum aapan nandkisore ke charno mein samarpit hoye gaye. Khair jaane do nandkisore. Ee sab toh bohut purani baat rahi.

Aye nandkisore, agar tumlogan ka kauno dikkat paresaani rahe toh humka bataayi dio, hum tohka tanik samajhaai denge, aoor baaki sab humre nandkisore ke haathon chor denge, theek haai naa? Bilkul kauno dikkat rahi toh bitiya humka aapan buaji samajh kar, eehan aaike bataai dena, mann bhi thora halka hoat jayi. Aoor hum toh waisan bhi jyaada kaam-kaaj naa kar sakat haai naa, toh pura din bas baith ke hi gujar jaat haai. Tohka chitthi likhan ke khaatir humra bhi tanik samay beet jaye.

Ab hum thehre bujurg, humse kaun baat karihe? Oo bhi chitthi likhke, nandkisore? Aajkal toh naa jaane kaa oosab bhatsup-discaard bhagwaan jaane aoor kaa-kaa aayi gaye haai, chitthi likhne ka phursat kaun ke paas rahai?

Khair choro. Humka toh aoor kuch soojh hi naahi rahat haai nandkisore, aoor kaa likhe? Chalao phir rakhte haai kuch batana hau toh likhat dena theek haai naa?

Aoor haan. Humka sunne mein aawat haai ki Sanka Devi ki kauno saheli ka aaj janam din raha? Ee baat sach haai ka, nandkisore? Janam din ki bohut bohut subhkamna tohka, nandkisore. Khub kaam karau, mehnat karau, Arnav babua aoor titaliya ke jaisan naam-paisa kamao, aoor tohka pati-parmeswar toh bohut hi bhagyawaan raha ki oo ka tohre jaisan patni milat rahi, nandkisore (byaah kee ho ki naahi, nandkisore?)

Aoor humri taraf se kauno meethaai wagerah khaa lena, tohka ghar ka pata (address) hota toh dukaan se jalebi aoor kucho dusri meethaai bhijwai dete par kauno baat naahi bitiya muskuraayete rehna. Jindagi mein rone ke bohut mauke milenge par muskuraaye ke mauke khud hi dhundne parat haai, nandkisore.

Chalao phir, ab rakhat haai. Garima ke saath mandir jaanat haai nandkisore. Namaste.

P.S. : Lol. I got this idea today like literally today and then thought of getting started but now I am kinda confused about something whether I should continue this one from buaji's POV only or I should write from all the characters' POV's. Let me know. And also ket me know ki yeh kuch samajh mein aaya bhi ki ekdum kachra kar diya hai maine. Lol :') Ok so I should have added this bit in the beginning but nvrmnd *shrugs* So I have considered double 'a' for आ sound, double 'o' for ऊ sound, double 'e' for इ sound and single 'a' is for अ sound, rest if you find any kind of confusion, please feel free to ask for help, considering this is not regular Hindi so :) Ok. Bye. God bless you.

[zeb-z]

I dunno, and I haven't read the Ascendency novels to be clear, so I can’t speak of who he was before his exile - but maybe Thrawn accepting Grand Admiral for that shitshow on Batonn sealed his fate. Maybe he wasn't the one to pull the trigger, maybe he was appalled by the needless death - he still took the promotion, even if he didn't want it. The moment he took the rank plate was the moment the blood on his hands became insignificant in the grand scheme of things. The moment where all his intentions begin to be buried by his actions.

Everyone is all about how Thrawn isn't that bad of a guy - and honestly I do agree that his character is misunderstood more often than not - but he still did terrible things with the Empire. Turned a blind eye and condoned much more with silence.

Because the fall of Nightswan and Batonn may not have been his fault - but he accepted the stain when he took his promotion.

For all you try to keep things fair, it doesn't matter if you're working in a system that is instituted to be cruel. And while Thrawn had never claimed to be a good man, and had only joined ultimately for the protection of his own people, there's something to be said of this deterioration of morality. How he doesn't understand politics, but is still shaped by the dangerous and vindictive workings of Imperial political scene, forgoing honesty for station.

Pirates and smugglers turn to insurgents and rebels. Capture turns to execute. He kills to prove a point.

He develops for the worse. For all he shapes the Imperial Navy, it shapes him all the same. I dunno. Complex character and all o that. He’s no scum of the earth true evil, but he’s no shining star either.