#and ive decided. its way worse than the current one

[feli026]

Igor's old design from the beta!!

[corntired]

LMFAO

I had such a stressful day at work that the app connected to a smartband im usually wearing told me to listen to some calming music as it detected very elevated stress levels.

Lol. Lmao, even.

[yieldtotemptation]

MINE ft. Yeji

yeji x male reader smut

9k words

it's a follow up to... NURSE

“You’re unbelievable!”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“You’re going to make me go insane!”

“That good, am I?”

“I swear one of these days—”

“I know, I know, I feel the same—”

“—I am seriously going to kill you!”

“Uh, shit, I’m out of jokes with that one.”

“Good, because I am Not. Fucking. Joking.”

Yeji’s well and truly pissed—rightfully so, mind you (you really fucked up this time), and for the first time ever there may really be no clever quip or line that can get you out of this one.

But of course, that won’t stop you from trying.

“Look around! This isn’t a fucking joke!”

She’s glaring at you, the kind of furious that could melt steel with her gaze alone, eyes narrowed into sharp slits that slice through your bullshit like a hot knife.

And so, you blink first, balking under Yeji’s glare, and decide to take her advice and look away, look around at your surroundings—at the many, many reasons Yeji is justifiably upset.

For one, there’s your current location—a hospital room, not a good look. Then, there’s the cast around your arm and bandages on your head—not the worse of injuries, but again, when you couple it with the IV snaking its way up your arm, and the morbid beeping of a heart rate monitor filling the silence, it really does not make you out to be the most intact of individuals.

Finally, there’s Yeji, her eyes verging on tears and her hands balled into fists, clutching the fabric of your hospital gown and looking like she’s ready to tear the room apart.

Add them all together: a hospital room, a handsome but seriously injured boyfriend, with his devastated girlfriend wracked with worry besides him… it doesn’t paint the best of pictures.

But yet, before you can stop yourself, another attempt at lightening the mood: “You should see the other guy.”

There it is! A crack in Yeji’s armour, a flicker of something other than righteous fury on her face—eyes widen slightly, lips part just a smidge—a ghost of a smile, perhaps?

But it’s gone before you can confirm its existence—Yeji’s façade is maintained and all you get is a minuscule quirk of her eyebrow.

“The other guy was a car,” she says through gritted teeth.

“And now that car is being turned into scrap and I get to be in the presence of the most beautiful girl in all of Korea.”

“I hate you,” she replies, lovingly (you hope).

“Most beautiful girl in all of Asia?” You’re almost there, you can see it on her face.

“Still hate you.” An ease in tension—a slight drop of her shoulders, a relaxing of her grip.

“The world?”

A sigh, a frown slowly turning upwards, success! — “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot,” you add, and that gets you a smile—a real, genuine, heart-stopping smile that lights up the room more than any fluorescent bulb could ever dream of.

“What am I going to do with you?” She’s shaking her head, letting you have your little victory.

“What would I do without you?” You ask, and she's rolling her eyes—nothing she hasn't heard you say before. “Certainly wouldn’t get to stay in a room this nice.”

Yeji blushes, her cheeks taking on the same shade of the excessive number of roses decorating your bedside. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously, Yeji?” You say, and echo back to her, “look around.”

It’s Yeji’s turn to act coy—as if it’s perfectly normal for a hospital room to come with a flat-screen TV, designer furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the city.

The room is closer to a luxury suite than a recovery ward—bigger than your apartment, even—and there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you to maybe risk another injury so you can maybe extend your stay even longer, especially if it means getting to have Yeji fuss over you like this.

“I might have called in a favour or two,” Yeji admits. “But they said this was the only room available!”

“Yeji, this is too much,” you say, but she’s already ignoring you, waving her hand dismissively.

“It’s nothing,” she says, rising off the bed and leaving you to your own devices, satisfied that you’ve been properly scolded.

But, you know better. While Yeji is like this with everyone she cares about—always giving, always putting others first—with you she gets especially intense with her caring, and as much as she’d probably deny it otherwise, you know that she’s more than a little smug at the sight of you laid up in this fancy hospital room, with nothing to do but let her pamper you.

“Sure, sure,” you say, but you can easily imagine her on the phone with every hospital in a fifty-kilometre radius, pulling strings left and right, leaning on the right people to get what she wants.

It’s just who Yeji is—no half measures, above and beyond in every aspect.

“I should unpack,” Yeji decides, retrieving a ridiculously oversized bag from the corner of your suite.

“Unpack?” You ask, but your question falls on deaf ears.

“I was halfway across the world when I heard what happened.” Yeji's clicking her tongue with annoyance as she struggles with the zipper for the bag. “Two days before I could get a flight out!”

“You didn’t have to rush—” you start to say, but Yeji whips her head around, a clear warning not to finish the very stupid sentence you’re about to complete.

“I didn’t have time to pack everything, just grabbed what I could from our place—” (your place, technically) “—and came straight here.”

Yeji instantly sets about your room, making sure that there isn’t a corner that hasn't been touched by her: your favourite tea brewing, the last book you were reading, a Bluetooth speaker playing her ‘songs to remind you of me’ playlist; every single thing you could possibly need to feel better.  

It’s not even what she’s doing as she completes her takeover of your hospital room, it’s how she’s doing it.

She’s in her normal everyday uniform: one of your flannel shirts over a tank top that just so happens to ride up just right, showing off her toned midriff as she reaches to hang a change of clothes for you in the wardrobe. Then there’s the snug, tight yoga pants moulded to her curves that stretch over her unbearably firm ass every time she needs to bend over and take something else out from her bag.

It’s all too perfect to be accidental, and you start to get conspiratorial, like perhaps this innocent act of care is just a torturous reminder of your what you can’t have while you’re all laid up and injured.

She is dressed normally. But normal, everyday clothes for anyone else on someone like Yeji, with her body—all sleek muscles and tight lines—is absolutely devastating.

Yeji works fast, a tornado of love and care clad in a dangerous pair of leggings, and in minutes she’s done, adding a finishing touch by spraying her perfume around the room, overpowering the sterile hospital scent with the sweet, floral notes that are uniquely hers—this is her space now, anyway.

Finally, she stops at the foot of your hospital bed, picking up your medical chart, reading it like she understands it all (actually, knowing Yeji, she probably got her medical degree on the way to the hospital just in case she deemed the doctors and nurses weren't doing a good enough job and she decided to take over).

“Hm,” is Yeji’s summary of your current condition. It’s cute, seeing her stare at the clipboard with a focus she usually reserves for the stage. “Eating well, no signs of deterioration in fine motor skills, very responsive, and very… friendly?”

 You raise an eyebrow.  “They wrote that down?”

“Attending physician: Dr. Park Yoona, Nurses: Roh Ji Yun, Jeon Jeong ah, Bae Hye Jin,” Yeji starts to read out the list of names—female names—and you start to hear the nails being hammered into your coffin, “Nurse Kim Ji Won—seriously, like the actress? All women. Hm.”

“Really, I hadn’t noticed!” Maybe feigning ignorance would increase your chances of survival. “You’d think in this day and age there’d be more male nurses now though, right?”

“Hm,” it’s that noise again. “I’m glad to hear that while I was worried sick about you, desperately trying to get over here, you’ve been well taken care of. Must be nice surrounded by all these cute women in their little nurse outfits.”

“Oh, please,” you test a deflection, “they’re just doing their jobs.”

Yeji’s eyes bore into you. “One of these nurses dots her ‘I’s with love hearts.”

You can only sigh at your impending doom. It’s been a good life.

“Who do these women think they are?”

You switch up your strategy, trying another angle: “They’re medical professionals, Yeji, not strippers.”

“Right, medical professionals,” Yeji echoes, her tone thick with sarcasm, before she suddenly switches up, putting on her sweetest, and most uncomfortable, baby voice. “Oh no, such a big, strong man that needs help. Tell me where it hurts so I can rub it better for you!”

“Stop, stop,” you protest, as much as you would like her to rub it better, you still have your pride. “I barely even talk to them—they just do their check-ups and leave. I can’t even remember what they look like, they’re probably all just plain, old ladies.”

You regret the words as soon as you say them (you really should’ve seen this coming), because before you can get any further into your pitiful defence, the door to your room swings open, and in struts a young, cheery, bouncy woman.

“Is my favourite patient ready for another check-up?” You're already cringing at the nurse’s question—her voice a squeak that’s far too high-pitched and far too cute for a hospital. If anything, she looks like an actress playing the role of a nurse, in some bad movie where they clearly casted for looks over believability.

Yeji’s eyes widen at the sight of the new, endowed occupant of the room, and she reads the name on the nurse’s tag, pinned firmly over a set of scrubs that’s a few sizes too small, and you’re immediately reminded of her earlier threat to kill you with surprising clarity.

“Kim Ji Won,” Yeji reads out loud, before suddenly remembering herself, lowering a baseball cap over her eyes and slipping on a surgical mask, hiding her face from view. She turns away, pretending to fuss with the flowers on your bedside table.

“Oh!” The nurse exclaims, and you’re starting to feel the walls of what was once a luxurious hospital room start to close in. “I didn’t realise you had a guest,” she says, as light and cheerful as ever, “is she perhaps your… sister?”

Oh God, Yeji might really kill you after this. “No, no, no, she’s my—”

But Nurse JI Won ploughs onwards, having the gall (or lack of a sense of self-preservation) to turn to Yeji, and chat away. “Your brother has been the perfect patient! Me and all the other nurses just can’t get enough of him! He’s such a charmer!”

Yep. Definitely dying. It’s been a good life.

“Oh, oops!” Ji Won giggles, as she somehow drops the clipboard she was holding, sending papers scattering across the floor. “I’m so silly, give me a second to get it together!”

“No, no, it’s okay you don’t need to—” you try, but by now you should know better, “—bend over and pick it up.”

She’s already turned away from you, pointing her ass up and straight into the air, performatively picking up the pages one by one, taking her time so you can commit to memory the exact colour of the lacy thong peeking out of her pants.

It’s so blatant that you’re almost impressed, but compared to the practiced ease of your girlfriend, it’s a pale imitation. Still, your mind can’t resist making the comparison, even though there’s no ass in the world that can hold a candle to Yeji’s cheeks wrapped in sheer nylon.

Look at you, all loyal and shit—even in the face of all temptation, you’re still a committed boyfriend, through and through.

If only Yeji, who is now evaluating you with a glare as hot as a thousand suns, could know that your mind is filled with thoughts of just her… even as you're staring at Nurse Ji Won’s ass.

You’re dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

“Aha, got it!” Ji Won is back on her feet, jumping with a cheer that suggests that maybe she could use a little more support, whilst completely immune to the sudden drop in temperature in the room. Yeji might as well be a ghost to her, the nurse looks only at you, scanning your body, searching for any new injuries that may have popped up since your last check-up.

If only she knew to just come back in an hour.

“It says here it’s about time to take out your IV!” Ji Won sunnily declares.

Consent isn’t a word that seems to exist in this nurse’s vocabulary, and she takes the opportunity to lean real close over you, pressing her ample chest against your side, making sure you get the full feel of her curves as she reaches across to the stand.

Of course, you don’t look—that would be insane. Instead your eyes are on Yeji, who’s definitely not looking at the nurse. No, she’s still boring a hole right through your skull, her hands holding a shredded flower, her knuckles turning white.

“Okay, that’s all done!” Ji Won chirps, and mercifully removes her breasts from your shoulder. “Hey, why are you acting all shy? You’re usually so much friendlier!”

“Oh?” Yeji makes a noise for the first time, and it terrifies you.

But again, the nurse pretends like she doesn’t even exist. “Let me check your heartbeat… And—”

“I’m sure it’s all fine and you can leave now, right—” You try a last-ditch effort to save this poor nurse’s life, but she’s clearly not taking the hint.

“Perfect as always, Mr. Metronome!” She says, writing down on her clipboard, clearly not noticing the seconds of her remaining lifespan ticking away. “We always talk about how you must work out so much to have a heart rate so low and consistent, I mean, obviously you do—look at you!”

You file her comments away as yet another reason your life is about to end, and try to push on, “so—I’m all good, right?”

“Of course you are,” Ji Won replies, turning the volume right up on the flirtiness, and her eyes flicker over to Yeji before she winks at you. “But I’ll just double-check everything before I go.”

“No, I think that’s enough!” Yeji breaks the conversation with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and the poor nurse jumps from the sternness of her voice. “You said he’s fine, he said he’s tired, and so that means you can leave now!”

“Oh, he’s tired? Does he need extra pillows, or is there anything I can do to make him more comfortable?”

But Yeji already has her out the door, practically dragging the girl out of the room by her collar of her scrubs. “He’s fine!”

The door slams behind the nurse, but not before you hear her giggle, “Hey, you look familiar!”

An icy silence fills the room once the nurse is gone, thick and tense. Yeji doesn’t move for several beats, it’s eerie the way she just stands there, staring at the closed door of your hospital room.

Something clicks in her head, though, and she locks the door, turning back to you, seemingly having made a final decision on your fate.

“So…” you throw out a feeler, trying your best to move straight past, well, everything. “How���s the tour going?”

“Is she perhaps your sister?” Yeji’s voice jumps an octave, a perfect imitation of the high-pitched squeak that had just left the room. She turns to you, throwing the cap off her head and tearing the mask off her face. “Vomit.”

“I have no idea what that nurse was talking about,” you say, immediately making a case to plead your innocence.

“So gross!” Her words are dripping with pure disgust, but at least it isn’t directed at you (for now, anyway). “That’s it! We’re moving hospitals!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down.”

“What is it with girls like that? Oh, you must work out a lot, I mean obviously you do!” Yeji continues her eerily uncanny impersonation. “Seriously, you’re an adult and you’re doing baby talk? ‘Perfect as always Mr. Metronome!”

“She’s just being nice, probably didn’t mean anything at all,” it’s a very weak argument you’re making, the only way the nurse could make her intentions more obvious were if she was wearing a bright neon sign that flashed ‘please fuck me!’.

“Bitch. Shameless! Hitting on my boyfriend in front of me. Acting so cute, so helpless—oops! I dropped my clipboard!” Yeji’s pouting now, fluttering her lashes, mimicking every blatant flirtation Nurse Ji Won had thrown your way.

“Really, we’re doing caricatures now?”

“Carica-what?” Yeji tilts her head to the side, and starts to sway her way over to you, her hips swinging from side to side with an exaggerated bounce. She’s playing it up to a T, making sure to sway, shake, to jiggle with each step she takes. “What does that word even mean? It’s such a big word. You must be really smart.”

Yeji settles into the role of the pretty, ditzy nurse far too easily, and her eyes tell you that she’s enjoying it far too much. For now though, you play along, clearing your throat and putting on your manliest voice—“I have been told I have a rather expansive vocabulary.”

“Wow, another big word,” Yeji’s at your bedside again, taking your hand into hers, looking up at you with wide-eyed awe. “Oh, you’re just so clever!” She giggles, as her other hand just so happens to come down on your thigh, leaving her free to squeeze and massage your muscles. “And so strong too! Do you work out?”

You grit your teeth as Yeji starts to trace her thumb in gentle circles over your skin, all the while staring up at you so innocently—she’s laying it on thick. “Sometimes…”

“I can tell…” Yeji continues, her voice trailing off as she runs her hand further up your thigh, light as a feather, but when she’s looking at you with those eyes and that smile, it’s if she’s dragging a live wire across your skin. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure as she leans in closer, lets her top hang a little loose, lets you get a peek at the soft swell of her breasts, parts those full, pouty lips of hers, her fingers tracing the contour of your leg as she moves higher and higher and higher, until her fingertips are on your—“Unbelievable! I cannot believe that actually works on you!”

“That’s unfair!” You shout in surprise, letting go of a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. “You can’t expect me not to react when you’re doing that!”

“Uh huh, I bet!” Yeji says, clearly not buying it. “You’re not at all attracted to the helpless, innocent, bouncy little slut that leans close so you can get a good view of her fat tits?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a singular pair of tits kind of guy.”

“This bitch,” Yeji curses under her breath, throwing her hands up in frustration. She unfortunately removes her hand from your leg, and plops herself down on your bed (it’s easily big enough for two), stewing in her emotions. You watch each cross her face: concern, jealousy, disbelief, a slight hint of amusement.

“Yeji,” you say, getting her attention, snapping her out of her thoughts. “You’re my girlfriend. I’m yours. That’s that.”

She stares back at you, her eyes light up at the declaration, and she punches your arm—your healthy one, of course. “You better be.”

It’s strange, seeing Yeji like this—so raw, so visibly affected by someone else’s attention on you. You’ve always thought of her as so strong, so confident, but there’s something in her possessiveness over you that is making you think about things that should definitely not happen in a hospital.

Fuck it, injuries be damned, without another word, you stretch forward and grab her by the waist, your good hand wrapping around her firmly, pulling her closer to you. She gasps, but doesn’t resist, no, she leans into your touch, her body melting into yours as if it’s been starved for affection. 

You hold her tight, letting her settle into your embrace, and can only laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation you’re in. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be taking care of me, you’re really not helping my blood pressure right now.”

“I’m still mad at you,” Yeji murmurs into your chest, but there’s no venom in her voice. Instead, it’s filled with something else entirely—something softer, more vulnerable. Her body relaxes against you, and you feel the tension in the room start to dissipate.

“Let’s not pretend that you weren’t enjoying acting like a helpless, little slut, Yeji,” you accuse, and Yeji’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of red. “I know you.”

“It’s your fault,” Yeji says, still hiding her face in your chest. “You and your ridiculous sexy nurse fantasy.”

“It’s a classic,” you shrug, before making an executive decision. “And this time, we actually have the right setting for it.”

Yeji looks around the room, shyly biting her lip. Again, all an act, she’s far too perceptive to not have the same thought on the forefront of her mind. “Here?”

“I saw you lock the door.” You catch the smirk that flashes across Yeji’s face. “Your mind is as filthy as mine, Yeji, I’m just better at vocalising it.”

“You think you can read my mind?”

“You know I can.” You lean in, your mouth finding hers in a soft kiss to prove your point—you didn’t need to ask to know that this is what she’s been after the whole time. Your lips find her forehead, “I can read your mind”—a kiss on her cheek—“your body”—and a whisper in her ear— “your pussy.”

You know you’re right by the hitch in Yeji’s breathing, how she leans into your touch, and when she straddles you without a second thought. Her thighs squeeze down against yours, the fabric of her yoga pants sliding against your hospital gown. She’s all soft curves and heat as she settles herself over you, her hands pressing down on your chest to keep herself steady.

“That nurse really riled you up, didn’t she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yeji steals another kiss from you, a moan muffled against your mouth. But yet, there’s the slight grind of hips—slow, deliberate friction, unbearable by design. “I’m just here to take care of my helpless boyfriend.”

“Yoga pants, Yeji. Again,” you say. “I saw it all. How you just so happened to need to stretch, or bend over, or lean just right,” you tease, even though it’s getting harder and harder to get your words out by the second. “You’re just as bad as her, only you’re way better at it.”

You kiss her again, this time with more urgency, the type of kiss you’ve been dying to give her since she first walked into the room, your tongue slipping into her mouth and tasting minty sweetness on her breath.

“And you look way fucking hotter than her when you do it, too.”

A smug smile plays on Yeji's lips as she's kissing you again. “I am the most beautiful woman in Korea.”

“The world,” you correct her.

“Goes without saying,” she finished. “’Extremely hot girlfriend’, if I remember correctly?”

“On fucking fire,” you summarise, and reach out to touch her, needing to feel her, but Yeji stops you placing your hand back on the bed.

She gives you a stern look, and shakes her head. “No, no, no. You’re the patient here, remember? You’re not allowed to do anything,” she says, her voice a mix of playfulness and authority. Yeji leans in closer, her breath hot against your ear. “You have to let the slutty nurse take care of you.”

You see it again—that switch—and Yeji gets more adventurous, cutting off your breath as she drags her hand down, sliding it under your thin hospital gown, walking her fingers back up your thigh. She stops just shy of your hardened cock, her eyes never leaving yours, revelling in your neediness for her, your want, before finally she takes a hold of you, her grip firm and tight and sure.

There’s heat in her palm, and she pulls a moan out of you and into her mouth as she starts to slowly stroke. It’s the softness of her hand against the growing stiffness of your shaft, her fingertips grazing your skin—you know you should be more careful, more considerate of where you are, but with Yeji’s touch, all rational thought is lost.

“I bet none of those bitch nurses could make you feel like this.” Yeji’s touch is a masterpiece of precision and passion, each movement calculated, practiced, she’s right—she’s the only one who knows how to touch you in just the perfect way to make you ache. Her fingers dance along your shaft, her grip tightening and loosening in a rhythm that only she can hear.

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about.” You groan, playing dumb, your mind filled with nothing but Yeji’s body on top of you, her fingers wrapped around you. “What other women?”

Yeji’s eyes narrow, but she can’t hold back her smile. “Good answer,” she whispers, rewarding you by moving faster now, each stroke deeper, more deliberate, reading your every reaction to the way she pumps you, timing her fingers with your stuttering breaths.

She likes—loves—taking care of you, making you feel good, there’s a thrill in it for her, knowing that she’s the one who can make you this vulnerable, this desperate. Her hand moves with confidence, her strokes become more insistent, her gaze hungrier, and she leans forward, pressing herself into your chest, letting you feel the softness of her breasts, the stiffness of her nipples through the flimsy fabric of her top.

“Does this feel good, honey?” She asks, like she doesn’t already know the answer, like she can’t feel your hips bucking up to meet her touch. "Do you like it when I take care of you?"

You nod, unable to form words, unable to do anything but keep your eyes on Yeji and marvel at just how fucking hot she is on top of you as she strokes you. Her hair falls in soft waves around her face, tickling your neck and cheeks, and her eyes—those piercing, all-knowing eyes—affixed to yours, holding you hostage.

“God, I love this cock,” Yeji murmurs between kisses against your cheek, your jaw, your neck, “so big, so hard… All mine…” She’s so satisfied, so happy with herself—with your cock—her constant praise as much for her as it is for you. “Fuck, look how big you’re getting for me, barely fits in my hand.”

“God, Yeji,” you gasp, struggling to keep together, to keep from losing yourself in the palm of her hand, as each of her strokes, each of her words, keep coming, stroking your cock, your ego, fucking with you completely. “I’m getting close—”

“Not yet.” Yeji lets you go, leaving you panting, your tortured cock standing tall and missing her attention. 

Before you can even mount a protest, she’s sliding up your body, stretching above your head to grab the hospital bed remote, smothering you with the soft mounds of her breasts as she does so. You groan into her, forced to feel the weight of her pressing down on you, the warmth of her skin against yours, teasing you in a way that’s both infuriating and heavenly.

With a click, the bed whirs into action, reclining back until you're flat on your back, staring directly up at her. She kneels over your head, and there’s the outline of her pussy through the fabric of her leggings, all swollen and damp and begging for your tongue.

She doesn’t have to look to know she has your undivided attention—she's pulling her shirt and her top over her head, setting her breasts, ripe and full, bouncing free from their confinement. No bra today (of course she didn’t, what would be the fucking point?) and you get a full view of those perfect tits, her dark, pebbled nipples already stiff for you.

“It’s your turn to take care of me.”

Yeji lowers herself onto your waiting mouth, lets out a noise that’s so needy, so fucking greedy, as your lips meet her heat for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

“Fuuuuuuck…”

You kiss, lick, nibble at her, tease her, groan into her thighs, as she urges herself against you, making you breathe in the scent of her sex, so immediately wet for you.

It’s not nearly enough for either of you—you need to feel her against your lips, your tongue. You move your hand up her thigh and towards her hip, digging your fingers into her waistband. But Yeji stops you again, and says the four most pleasant words in any language. “Just fucking rip them.”

There’s no hesitation—she lifts her hips off your face, you snake your hand between her legs, take one end of the fabric between your fingers, and another in your teeth: one quick, sharp yank, and you tear. The nylon gives way with a satisfying rip, and Yeji shivers above you as the cool air hits her full, puffy, exposed cunt.

“Mmmph, yesssss,” Yeji hisses as you pull her back down onto your lips, shuddering as you kiss that lovely crease where her thigh meets her pelvis, her pleasure vibrating through your own skull. She quivers, shifts, needy for your lips on her naked pussy, and she pleads, “stop teasing… I need it…”

You smile against her skin, your breath ghosting over her pussy, making her squirm. "What's the magic word?"

"Now," Yeji says, her voice firm, her thighs so magnificently tense. "The magic word is now."

With that, you give her a long lick, starting from the very bottom of her pussy and moving upward, tasting every millimetre of her juicy cunt, tracing the entire length of her slit, ending with an indulgent flick of her clit.

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” Yeji cries out, shivering, falling apart as your tongue finds that sweet spot, her thighs tightening around your neck. Her hands come down to either side of your head, her fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in place as she starts to rock back and forth, setting her own rhythm, matching her hips with the pace of your tongue. “God, you’re so fucking good at that, always so fucking good at that.”

She’s whining, so, so desperate, so pleading, and you’re eager as you taste her, explore her, will her to come apart in your mouth. You’re taking generous licks, tongue dancing around her clit, teasing it, testing her full vocal range as she cries out your name

“Oh, please, please baby, fucking please.” She’s getting wetter and wetter, coating your tongue, your lips, your chin. “I missed this,” she gasps, grinding herself against your tongue, all desperation and utter awe. “Missed you making me feel so fucking good.”

You look up, up at her as she rides your face, she’s so fucking breathtaking. Her body tensing around you and on top of you—so tight, so firm—chiselled abs honed by decades of dancing, that gorgeous curve of her waist leading up to her perky, petite tits, so lovely, bouncing with every gasp she takes.

"I'm so wet for you, honey, so fucking wet," Yeji whimpers, “you always make me so fucking wet—I can’t—ah!”

A sharp inhale, you suck her clit into your mouth, flicking your tongue against the sensitive nub. She’s moaning so fucking loud, so unrestrained, echoing through the hospital room and down the hallways, loud enough to let every nurse on the floor know exactly how fucking good it feels to be on top of you. Her hips jerk, she can’t control her own body now, and you know she’s getting closer and closer, determined to ride your tongue right to the end.

Just looking at her is all it takes for you—seeing her so damn horny, so satisfied sets you on edge, needing something, anything to take your cock and match her euphoria.

“Do you want me to help you out, baby?” Yeji’s reading your mind. You groan and affirmative into the folds of her cunt, and in an instant, you go from being smothered by her juices to being faced with the full, perfect tautness of her ass.

She makes it look so easy, so graceful, lifting herself off your face and spinning around to this new position—face down, ass up.

A second later and your wishes are granted—your cock, so heavy with need, standing neglected and alone is met by Yeji’s soft, warm lips, kissing the very tip of you, tasting the drops of pre-cum that’s already leaking out of you.

“Let me make you feel better,” is all Yeji says—just one light kiss, a whisper into your cock, and she dives onto you, swallowing your cock whole. It’s far too much, far too quickly, you’re out of breath and ready to tap out as her warm, wet mouth envelopes your whole rod in one, smooth suck.

Her tongue swirls around you, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, she takes you deeper and deeper, until you’re buried down her throat. You throb inside her, her throat muscles contracting back around you, and you can’t help but thrust up into her mouth, seeking more, needing more.

“Yeji!” You cry out her name on reflex as she takes you in, her hands digging into your thighs as she works her mouth up and down, bobbing, taking you deep and noisily, smacking her lips, sloshing her tongue. Whatever pain you had lingering from your arm, your head, or your ribs, it’s all forgotten—there’s only Yeji, and her exquisite lips, doing everything she can to wring every drop of pleasure out from your body.

It's too much, too intense, and you’ve been on the edge since she first grabbed a hold on you. This can’t end now, not when she’s sucking you so hard, practically worshipping your cock. You need a distraction—pull her hips back, gently, firmly, push that beautiful ass back into your face and indulge in her again.

“Mmmph—!” Yeji moans into you as your tongue meets her cunt, the sound reverberating down your shaft and right into your brain.

And now it’s a competition—you push through her pussy with her tongue, feel her walls tightening around you. She’s pushing back into you, grinding down on you, making sure you get the full flavour of her cunt, her ass, every inch of her on your taste buds.

She’s more frantic now, moving faster, sloppier on your cock as you push her closer and closer to climax. Her tongue slides against you, her cheeks hollow out around you, she drools and dribbles down your shaft—it’s messy and wet and absolutely fucking amazing.

But you can’t let her win, not this time. You double down on your efforts, suctioning your lips over her clit and start rapidly flicking your tongue, setting a relentless pace that you know will make her crumble. She tries her best to keep up, to keep going, but she’s a mess of sucking and moaning and quivering all over your face and on your cock.

Yeji works her tongue, her lips, her mouth—she makes sure you know it’s all yours. But then, after taking you all the way to the back of her throat, your cock pops out of her mouth with a wet smack, and she lets out a cry of pure, unbridled ecstasy. “Fuck, I can’t, I can’t, I’m gonna—FUCK!”

She collapses, bent over and prone, only her ass rocking and grinding against your face as she utterly, completely falls apart, ruined by just your tongue, ruined by the orgasm you’re giving her.

“So good—God—fuck—keep going, keep going, keep going!” Yeji’s voice is a chant, a prayer that you’re more than happy to answer. She’s shaking, her pussy pulsing against your face as you lick and suck at her clit, clouding your mind with the heady mix of sweetness and desire that has you hooked. She’s lost, given up and given over to you now, her moans becoming screams—“your tongue, your fucking tongue—gah!”

Her body geos rigid, locking up as she hits that wonderful peak—but you’re not ready to stop. You keep licking, keep pushing through wave after wave of pleasure that crash over her, not giving a second of rest. Her juices flood your mouth and you swallow greedily, drinking her in like it’s the only medicine you need.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—fucking making me feel so good—God!”

Nothing fucking matters, all you know is Yeij’s cunt is on your tongue and her ass is in your face, and your only job is to keep licking her to her core, until she finally goes slack, crumbling on top of you.

She stays like that, her legs shaking like she’s just run a marathon, her nipples squashed against your chest, her gasps hot and ragged against your thigh. You can feel the staccato of her heart, and you hold her close, massaging her lower back as she does her best to catch her breath.

And yet, there you are, still throbbing, still so fucking hard and delirious with your need for her touch.

There’s no point in hiding it, she’s so close you can feel her breath on your cock, your close enough to poke her eye out with how hard you are.

“Someone’s feeling left out,” she says, as if she’s not entirely to blame. “Is that for me?”

“You know it is,” you respond, far weaker, more pleading than you intended.

A gentle, torturous kiss against your thigh, and you’re just about ready to explode in her face. “Then I guess as your dutiful, loving, girlfriend, I better do something about it.”

It’s so easy for her—one moment she’s exhausted, out of breath on top of you, the next she’s fully recovered, back on top and mounting you, facing you as she smears the tip of your cock with her wetness.

You try to sit up, eager to get straight to it, straight to fucking her like you need to, but her hands are on your shoulders and she’s pushing you back down.

“Lie down, baby,” she hushes you, pressing you down onto the mattress. “Just enjoy this.”

Her eyes narrow as she drinks in the sight of you, bursting with anticipation as she lowers her pussy onto your cock. It’s a special kind of torment, one that makes your hips buck involuntarily, so impatient to feel her warmth again.

But she takes her sweet time, and it’s only when she’s close enough, she bends down, mouth hovering over yours. Your eyes drift shut, and you wait for that soft contact of her lips, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, she whispers, "I've got you," and you feel the warm, velvety embrace of her cunt as she takes you in, inch by agonising inch.

Fully seated, her walls close around you, and that’s when she kisses you hard, her tongue pushing past your lips and into your mouth with the same aching hunger of her cunt around your cock.

She tastes so damn good, feels incredible—it’s been too long, and you want nothing but to grab her, hold her and slam her hips down onto yours and drive deeper into her, but your body won’t cooperate.

You can only lay there as she starts to move, her hips rocking back and forth, slowly, intentionally, having you seeing stars. And then, just when you think you can’t take it anymore, she lifts herself up off your cock, and in one swift motion, sinks herself straight back down, whispering “holy fuck yesss” against your lips.

She needs time to get used to you, used to your cock filling her whole again. “This fucking cock,” she bites your lip as she rides you, “always so big, always so perfect.”

Yeji has to take it slow, has to let her pussy stretch around you, adjust to you, before she can start to ride you, to fuck you like she really wants to. And she does want to—wants to claim you, erase any doubt about who is the one person that can fuck you like you deserve to be—so, so much.

Each movement down the length of your cock is faster than the one before, each moan into your mouth hotter, each clench of her cunt around yours so much tighter, until she’s fucking you in earnest—harder, faster.

“So thick, so, so, riiiiight,” Yeji groans.“I’ve missed this, needed this.”

She’s riding you like she’s been waiting for this forever, like this might be the last time, bouncing her ass up and down, her eyes hooded with lust, her hair a wild mess around her flushed face, her nipples swinging every time your hips meet.

“When you get better, honey, I need you to fuck me real hard,” Yeji whispers in your ear, her breath hot and tickling, thick with lust, her tight cunt milking you, keeping you on the edge of insanity. “But I’ll take care of you for now, I’ll take care of this cock—fuck I love it—I love you—I love that you’re mine.”

“You’re mine too, Yeji,” you groan back to her.

“That’s right—I belong to you and you belong to me,” Yeji punctuates her point with a hard slam of her cunt down onto your cock. "You're My. Fucking. Boyfriend."

She’s getting faster and faster now, picking up her pace, like she needs to prove something, to herself, to you, to the entire fucking hospital.

“Those other bitches can’t ride you like I do—can’t fuck you like I do,” Yeji’s panting, each word fucked out of her, coming out like a proud battle cry. She’s right, you’re sure of it—no one else can make you feel this way, no one else can take you, claim you like she can. She’s lost in it now, lost in the heat and the friction, her whole body consumed by a burning desire to show you just how good she is at this.

Yeji leans back, sitting upright, giving herself better leverage to bounce on your cock, giving you a better view of her body—all perfectly sculpted edges and soft curves—and those fucking perky tits. They’re stunning, just like the rest of her, and you reach for them on instinct, cupping the soft mounds, feeling the weight of them in your palm. Her nipples are so hard, erect, begging for your touch, and you don’t want to disappoint—could never—so you pinch and twist them, watching her face contort with pleasure, feeling her pussy tighten around you as she cries out.

“No one can take this big fucking cock like I can—down my throat, in my cunt.” It’s a declaration—loud and proud, for every single person in the hospital to know.

“Jealous?” You grunt out the word, hoarse, rough. “Thinking about me fucking other woman like I fuck you? Making them scream—making them cum as hard as I’m about to make you?”

You can see the twist in Yeji’s face, how her pupils dilate as your words sink in. There’s a war playing out on her face, jealousy and desire, the mere thought of you fucking other woman making her pussy spasm around you. “Oh, fuck you! You would ruin them, honey, they wouldn’t be able to take you. Or is that what you want to hear? Some cute bitch screaming: ‘oh baby, oh please, oh daddy, I can’t take it—I can’t take this big fucking cock!’”

There’s truth in the mockery, and there’s a dark thrill in Yeji’s jealousy. But now’s not the time for anything (or anyone) else but her—you’re too close, too far gone, your cock throbbing with the need to spill into her.

“Only I can take it, it’s mine, mine, mine.” She’s soaking you, so needy, so deep, so fucking filthy as she whines over your cock. “You better keep fucking me—only me—or I will make your life hell.”

“Show me then,” you challenge her, and you can see something flash across her eyes—something primal, something rough.

“I’m yours,” she declares again, riding you in a way that can only be described as pure art, her whole body moving in perfect harmony with a singular goal—to be absolutely wrecked by your cock. “All yours, nobody else’s. And you’re mine.”

It takes one hard pump into her tight, sweaty body and she’s falling into you, her body pressed on top of you, her forehead pressed against yours. It’s electric, the connection between your bodies, a jolt of pleasure surging through your cock and her cunt until all that matters is the feel of her fucking you like her life depends on it.

It’s love at every thrust, every gasp and moan. Nothing but Yeji on top of you, her soft skin pressed against you, her heartbeat racing against yours, her wetness coating your cock like a silk glove. Not just pleasure, you’re claiming each other—she’s whispering it in your ear, whispering your name like a promise, a declaration of war against anyone who would dare to come between you.

“Fuuuck.” Yeji bites down on your shoulder, digs her nails in your skin, squeezes her pussy around you like a vice. “I’m gonna do it again,” she mewls, “this cock—your beautiful cock—is gonna make me cum all over again.”

She’s chasing that precious feeling, desperate for it, her hips moving in erratic circles, determined to bring you with her. You can feel it too, the beginnings rising from the base of your cock, the tension in your balls. You want to hold on, to make this last, but at this point it’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave.

“Give—fuck—give me more!” Yeji’s eyes are squeezed shut; her mouth open in a silent scream as she grinds down on you, her body trembling with the effort to keep her balance. You can see the tension in every line of her body, how her abs clench, her toes curl. It's like watching a live wire, and you're the one holding the current. "Nobody can fuck me like you do—fuck—nobody can take you like I can!"

You wrap your arm around her shoulder, holding her tight, wrenching control from her, making her prove her words with every forceful thrust. You’re going to be in pain later, but fuck all that—Yeji’s so wet, so tight, so fucking hot—she’s a force of nature, and you’re just the lucky fuck that gets to be in the eye of the storm.

“You’re going to cum in me, now, okay? I’m going to cum so fucking hard and then you’re going to cum right inside me.” Yeji’s completely given herself over to you, letting you fuck her, use her, she’s all yours anyway. “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!”

And then she’s there, her cunt gripping you like a fist, her walls pulsing and quivering around you. Yeji’s eyes fly open, her gaze locks onto yours, and she’s cumming hard.

Her orgasm rips through her body, she’s choking your cock with pussy, muscles tightening and release in a painful rhythm, and all she can do is shake and cry out every filthy word she knows, every sweet noise she can make as she spills and creams and comes apart on top of you.

“It’s too much,” Yeji’s barely holding on, panting incessantly, “too-fucking-much—too-fucking-much!”

The way she looks, the way she fucks, the way she cums—it’s a thing of beauty, an absolute fucking honour to witness—every twitch, every shiver, every gasp that falls from her swollen lips. Her nails pierce your skin, her teeth threaten to draw blood, her eyes wide and wild as her climax crashes over her.

“Please-please-fucking-please!”

But she doesn’t stop. If anything, she’s becoming more insistent, more urgent, fucking back against you again, her hips moving in a blur, taking you like a woman possessed. She’s pleading for you, pleading for you to give in, to let go, to follow her into bliss. Yeji’s a woman on a mission—to make you feel her, to make you fill her and you realise that maybe this isn’t just about jealousy anymore—it’s about making you know in every fibre of your being that your cum belongs in her cunt and her cunt only.

"Give it to me," Yeji demands, “I need you to—please—fuck—cum in me!”

Every word’s a trigger, sending you spiralling over the edge. It’s been building for an eternity now, an unbearable pressure needing to find a home in Yeji’s scorching, sopping wet pussy.

“Kiss me—I need you to—need to taste—fuck—please—kiss me now!”

There’s nothing left to do but obey, bringing your hand to the back of her neck and pulling her down into a fierce, bruising kiss. Your mouths crash together, your tongues dance and entangle, your teeth clash, and all the while Yeji’s clenching around you, cunt contracting in an effort to keep you still, keep you together.

“Fill me.”

A final, triumphant spear into her and your gone—releasing, spurting your cum deep inside her—so hard, so hot, so intense, emptying everything, all of you, every last drop into her greedy pussy.

“Yesssssss—this—this is what I needed.” Yeji hums a satisfied note into your collarbone, so full, so complete, so content. She’s still slowly rocking her hips back and forth, still pulsing around you, milking you dry. “I feel so…full.”

She dissolves into a puddle in your arms, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck. Your hand finds its way to her back, tracing gentle circles, rubbing away the tension that’s been built up, the strain she’s put her body through.

She’s warm, she's so alive, and you can feel her heart beating against your chest, a stilted, hurried rhythm that's gradually slowing down. You kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, anywhere you can reach without having to strain yourself. It’s a gentle reassurance, making sure that for all the fucking and the filthiness, she knows that no matter what happens, you’re there to make sure she’s okay.

Yeji whispers an “I love you,” her words like a balm to your soul. “I really, really, fucking love you, you know?”

“I know, Yeji,” you say, low enough for only her to hear. “I really, really, fucking love you too.”

There’s still the embers of your shared climax resonating through your bodies, the come down from an epic high that’s left the two of you a tangled mess of limbs and hospital sheets. You both lay there, Yeji’s pussy still spasming around your cock, your cum and her juices dribbling down and pooling between your bodies. 

“I was really worried about you.” Yeji whispers, vulnerable. The admission hangs in the air above you, a stark reminder of the fear and insecurity that’s been simmering just beneath the surface. “When they called me, I thought—I—I fucking hated that feeling.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. It’s all there is left to say.

“And I am really pissed about these nurses,” Yeji adds with a deadly seriousness, that only makes you smile. “I’m moving you to another hospital as soon as I can.”

“We just might have to after this,” you murmur, stroking her hair as you catch your breath. “No way they didn’t hear any of that.”

“Good.” Yeji declares, a little too intensely, too smugly.

You look down at her and can’t help but chuckle. “Well aren’t you all happy and copacetic now?”

Yeji looks back at you, pauses, and then grins. “Copa-what-tic?”

You can only roll your eyes. “Copacetic.”

“Wow,” Yeji starts, her voice back up an octave, laced with sickly sweetness. “Such a big, complicated word. You’re so smart.”

“Uh huh.”

“And these muscles too! Look at you all pumped and sweaty. Have you been working out?” Yeji teases, her cheeks still flushed a bright pink shade. She reaches down to give your bicep a gentle squeeze, mouthing an exaggerated ‘wow’ in amazement of its size.

“I did just finish a pretty intense workout. Might’ve even got another concussion from having my brains fucked out.”

“In that case, as your nurse it’s my responsibility to get you good and clean.” Yeji’s kissing you again, soft and slow.  “Come on now, let me give you a good, nice scrub.”

“Is this going to be a reciprocal thing, you wash my back, I wash yours?”

“Why don’t you come with me and find out?” Yeji slides off your cock, peeling herself off your sticky body, and lifts herself up and off the bed.

You watch as she stretches, her body a glorious mess of grace and sweat and cum, and for a moment you’re just in awe of her. She’s glowing, and she’s not even trying.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” Yeji winks, already sauntering away from you and towards the bathroom, her hips swaying, her ass calling for you with each perfect bounce. “It’s time for some serious physical therapy. Nurse’s orders.” 

[year2000electronics]

HIII I'm immediately obsessed w your Just Say Yes au like GRHRGGRH I'm gnawing on this foreverr. as a sweater twins enjoyer though it's UGHH. angst <3 . but angst </3

even when mabel and dipper eventually reconcile (because I'm getting the feeling they will, at least someday) could mabel and ford ever reconcile? I'd imagine she blames him more than she blames dipper for the whole ordeal, and with stan inadvertently kinda making it worse (not to mention bill just. being bill.)

UGH and he'd probably still be too stubborn to admit or apologize even to his niece (I say this w love I promise). god save ford from the wrath of an arts and crafts girlie. the multiverse couldn't prepare him for her.

this is a tough question, and one i have been GNAWING on. ive been working on a full plot for just say yes beyond just the initial premise (there's a lot of stuff i have to consider! i'm even trying to consider whether there even should be an eventual weirdmageddon or not) so its like, i dont know the ending to it all yet, but i know that i want like. a happy ending but REALISTICALLY happy, yknow? so its not all kittens and rainbows but i think dipper and mabel are definitely gonna make up and theres gonna be the chance to heal. the chance is so important.

but that still leaves the question of the stans, and by extension, the stans' now-splintered relationship with their "opposite" pines kids. its tempting to say mabel never want to talk to ford again, right? he came into their lives, punched their grunkle in the face, made everything awkward and stressful for the entire time he was there, and by the end of the summer, took her brother away and then was part of the reason he became a paranoid shut-in.

but i think it eats at her that they have something in common that nobody else currently alive can say they have.

a friendship with bill.

it's not JUST that bill is some master manipulator, its more about what he represents for both ford and mabel. both of them were approached by bill during a period in their life where they felt more lonely than they ever had before (especially in the wake of a rift between them and their twin) and bill purposely used that against them. how can they explain to people that they confided in bill, and they ignored the signs? how can they explain why on earth they would trust a DEMON? who could sympathize with the twins who sold the world?

i think thats what could be the key to mending the relationship between all four of them. ford being the one to reach out to mabel after everything's done, after she either helps billie bring about weirdmageddon or ALMOST bring it about depending on what i decide. i think for ford, whos been slowly realizing that he is hurting the people he loves, and has been forced to reckon with that because unlike fiddleford and stan, he's living with dipper and seeing him slowly grow into a reflection of his own negative traits. and he realizes that him and mabel separating was In Large Parts His Fault.

the fact that ford would reach out to mabel and try to extend the olive branch during the period of her life where she probably feels the most like a pariah, more alone than even before billie, to say "sometimes we do selfish things. but that doesnt make us irredeemable" is a sort of atonement for both her and himself, and also a way for him to admit that yes, he did hurt people

[eastereggie]

hihi !! this is eggie/cam :] im sure that people in the kaeloo fandom recognize me so hello !!

i cannot believe that my very first own post on tumblr, especially about a fandom that ive always cherished, for 6 years now (going strong !!!!) will be about the current drama but here we go, since that shit seems to escalade to a level that i consider dangerous:

THIS IS A WHOLE BUNCH OF ADULTS FIGHTING WITH MOSTLY MINORS TO WRITE SMUT (or if you dont like the word, p0rn, because its not less than that) OF ANIMALS WHO ALSO HAPPENS TO BE KIDS. this is it. thats what the drama is about.

all the posts going around, all the victimisation, all the new s3xual fanfictions dropping for "psychological studies" or whatever all the bullshit youre telling yourself to be seen as a saint, this is what this is about: people, mostly in their late 20s, even if i recall seeing younger people being in this weird side of the fandom, fighting for their life to make their harmful headcanons (to avoid saying, again fantasies) acceptable. so ill repeat it again, for this side of the fandom and anyone else: THIS. IS. NOT. ACCEPTABLE. this is not about having a different opinion, this is not about the freedom of speech or letting people enjoy things in peace; and you cannot be upset, to the point that you are tracking IPs (thats creepy as hell btw), making whole edits about the situation (this one is just funny so i had to talk about it) because people are calling you out. you are NOT being harassed. you are NOT the victim. you are NOT defending yourself. this isnt what it is about at all. you are just an adult, watching a kid show and deciding that 90% of your fanfics about it will include sex (and not just casually, no, in EVERY CHAPTER. ew). this is just gross, and whats even worse is acting like you're not the one who should be blamed. its not new in the fandom to see people being THIS creepy, but a part of me thought that we maybe moved past this but well...

there is no other way of saying this, i really wish i could make this whole post a little bit more polite, but i genuinely think that some of you have never been confronted to the consequences of their actions, since you reassure yourself by hanging out with people as weird as you who will obviously agree with you.i used to feel disapointed, sad and upset to see people i considered as friends turning out like that, but honestly this is all just embarrassment at this point... i truly hope this whole stuff will calm down soon, though it couldve been stopped way earlier if a certain part of the fandom didnt start using tumblr to childishly provoke the people who called them out. if you want to continue being creeps, or pretend that you're not the problem, as you wish ! but dont except people to accept you or whatever, create your own "safe place" and stay in there, for the sake of everyone else. hopefully yall will grow out of your "everyone is against me" phase, even if its a little late for that considering the fact that some of you are older than 21 already :) but its never too late ! (if you made it this far i apologise for the yapping and tysm for taking the time to read all of that lol)

-eggie ^_^

[terraliensvent]

Not a vent’ asking a question. Out of genuine curiosity do you actually like Terraliens as a species? A majority of CS vent blogs seemingly want the species to die or fail as an end result.

Isn’t the whole point of vent blogs to give people a space to actively point out problems to make the community better as a whole. Reblog to make it die faster or run out of the community feels conflicting to what the blog is actually supposed to achieve. Do you want it to get better? It seems like you do. Or are you actually hoping it gets worse to increase engagement.

So general question would be do you hate Terraliens? What’s the end goal for you? ����

this is a loaded question for me at the moment haha

personally, ive been in terras since april 2023, so basically since the start. ive seen every controversy pretty much first hand, was an avid reader of the terra blogs previous to mine, and terras was the first species i put my whole heart in and tried to interact with the community in. initially i really wanted the species to get better, when they had the suggestion threads i was an avid poster

then over and over again mods just kept failing in the simplest of ways. this blog was made february of 2024, a few months after the first psa and ownership change. i still thought terras could be good but there were just too many blockers, esp from coy and civ after learning some behind the scenes info from the psa

then the Reckoning came and i hoped it really would go down, if only that meant making the species totally open

when tycho became owner i really was hopeful considering the facts that previous mods completely disavowed vent blogs like mine, but shortly before he became owner tycho reached out to ask my thoughts on stuff around the species (you can see that in my post about The Reckoning), when the species fell in his lap i honestly thought there was going to be big change. for a while there was, like new assets in the item channels, feedback forms, etc. but then there were also the nagging issues that never went away from before, like hiring friends for staff, weird unspoken rules, and a horrible approval process

for the past few days ive been thinking, man this really doesnt seem like its worth it. the same issues are starting to pop up again, and the mods currently just twist and turn making up their justifications for moving the goalpost. i dont like a lot of the new designs, dont really have any myos i want to make, and im not pulled in by the new events.

my end goal initially when making this blog was that i wanted terras to get better and make the easy changes everyone wanted, but now i think the better course of action would be for it to die. make it an open species and just let people run with it, because over the 2 and a half years of this species there has never once been such an attitude of unity and happiness among terra community than on that one night in april where the species WAS open.

honestly? im days away from voiding all my terras and fucking all the way off (ill still stay in the server though, i couldnt imagine anyone else running this blog and i think its become a necessary place for everyone. i imagine there would be at least some outcry if i were to shut it down, lol). once i finish my current obligations, im trading all my shit. its exhausting to have been doing this back and forth for improvement for over 2 years now, and its just so much more effort than its worth when i could be putting my whole heart into other up-and-coming projects. it hurts when a thing you really loved and found happiness in just has too many glaring issues to ignore

i think its a bad look when most of your oldest members who have been there since near day 1 decide this shit isnt worth it anymore and want to be done with it. its a bad look when someone who cared so much to make full essays about this species on an entire blog dedicated to it decides that its just not worth trying to "fix" anymore.

and i kind of hope a lot of other members come to that same conclusion and cause it to die.

[wygolvillage]

a new year's resolution

well, as of 2024 i’ve decided i will no longer be posting on tumblr... this shouldnt be the hugest surprise since ive been pretty critical of staff, the over-monetization of the website, the site culture, and the user experience for the past year and gradually reducing my time spent scrolling the ol’ dashboard- ive even mentioned my intent to eventually leave; well, that eventually is now! gradually ive found myself analyzing the effect that using tumblr for 7+ years has had on me, and the effects of social media in general.

ive never had to write a goodbye letter like this before. while ive joined and left several online platforms over the years, its always been a gradual fade in interest rather than a conscious decision to stop. never have i used a platform as long as ive used tumblr, over 1/3 of my life. ive grown up with tumblr, for better or worse. how do you write a goodbye for that? i guess ill have to try my best. because as important as tumblr was for me, ive recognized the way its hurt me too.

finding other avenues of online self-expression particularly has made me think a lot about this. when i edit my website i feel accomplished, happy, and content, feeling i have put something of myself out into the world, my seed to grow and garden to tend. when i scroll through tumblr i feel as if my brain is mostly idle, and when i do emotionally respond its often out of anger or annoyance, because anger = engagement and social media sites like tumblr WANT engagement. particularly because i have OCD ive found myself upset by certain aspects of tumblr discourse culture, as well- it is basically the Scrupulosity Website and much of the way i react to and interact with media has been colored by my years spent absorbing the viewpoints of said Scrupulosity Website! i even used to look up discourse topics on tumblr just to anger myself on purpose, which is a dangerous road to go down, to build up Enemies and Factions in your mind- this is how discourse culture works. the culture of tumblr teaches you to see the world in black and white, and to feel like youre always in danger of compromising your moral purity or being attacked by the morally impure. If You Don’t Reblog This You Are A Bad Person. even as someone who nowadays tries to stay away from discourse entirely, its still there in the back of my mind, because the way we interact on this website is colored by this. when im online i dont actually want to be angry all the time! in fact i like putting my effort towards more positive stuff. but additionally: tumblr made me unhappy but it also made me an addict

and yeah social media addiction sounds like a silly boomer thing to complain about but one thing i noticed when i started trying to curb my time spent on tumblr was that opening the site was damn near compulsive. we all know those “open tumblr, close tumblr, open tumblr again immediately after” memes but that did describe my behavior pretty accurately. the draw and allure of social media feeds is powerful, if i accidentally click the youtubes short tab ill find myself a half hour later scrolling through random shit i don't care about and asking well how the hell did i get here? i dont even like that stuff! tumblr is no different no matter how much the site tries to coast on the reputation of being the last social media that's a “remnant of the old web” and “has no algorithm”. i like my chronological dash but it is equally as addicting to scroll through the thousands of people ive followed over the years, as it is to scroll through the algorithmic feeds of youtube shorts, because that's just social media!

and kicking addiction is pretty damn hard. before 2023, i made two separate attempts at reducing my tumblr usage and both fell through within a week due to that addiction. for reference this current bought of thoughts about reducing my tumblr usage and making my online/irl balance more healthy, around the start of 2023 when i began working on my website and its taken me an entire year to wean myself off of the hellsite, bit by bit. theres a point where it stopped being a conscious act, and even as i was carefully whittling down how often i use tumblr with extensions like leechblock i still had that compulsion go off multiple times every day, its a really strange feeling. but now that ive found so many more ways to express myself online, i just feel more whole now... i guess what im saying is that when i post on tumblr my first instinct is to complain or wallow about something, when i post on my own handmade blog on my website i always want to talk about things that excite me or make me happy! and its been such a tangible change in the way i think and act and im certain its because of the way social media and tumblr have their own “societal expectations” and structure that is built to feed on this negativity loop.

and a lot of the biggest shifts happened when i began immersing myself in the ideals of the web revival, while creating my own website. finding things that genuinely interested me and niches i want to occupy made me so much happier. i know we make a lot of jokes about having mutuals we never talk to that mean the world to us and i do think that is indicative of something. like, when i post on a forum full of strangers i am engaging with more “face to face” (or the digital equivalent) communication than i do with years-long mutuals. how genuine are these connections, this dashboard, the enjoyment i got from that meme post ill forget in 10 minutes? (not to say that i don’t genuinely care abt my followers and mutuals. ykwim?) i can still get all the things i enjoy out of tumblr in a more curated form via rss feeds; ive been so much more proud of what i post and create and code on my website. what am i here for? i gradually realized that i am losing absolutely nothing when i “miss out” or block tumblr on my phone or what have you.

since starting working on my neocities site ive felt so much creative drive. ive created whole interactive essays and worlds and games and writings and so many things i could never host on social media. my website is a place of my very own, and ive been learning the value of focusing on what i put out into the net compared to what i take from it. its made me feel so much more fulfilled when i spend time online.

and let's not forget about staff. i have broader issues with how automattic in particular has gone about running the site. the ads only took up more and more of the dashboard, and every month it felt like there was some new paid feature doomed to never take off. all while the user experience gradually degraded. using the site without browser extensions to fix the ui and block the ads and tumblr live and all the other shit they threw all over the place makes it look like its ridden with viruses, and i think the fact that its become so normalized to feel like we have to stay in spaces that become increasingly hostile to us, even while the internet is so vast, is really strange (i mean, i also thought that way at first). but Anyway. so much time and effort was spent on features no one liked or wanted in some desperate attempt to get a little extra money, while staff members get in public fights with users who complain about getting monetization shoved down their throat. its so openly pathetic. the merch store had mostly mediocre designs and the digital tumblrmart is absolutely full of useless digital goods with free alternatives. considering this is a userbase that gladly donates to other sites donation drives for hosting costs (i.e. ao3, wikipedia, internet archive), i am shocked that staff never considered the obvious answer of a fucking donation drive once a year or so! the ceo telling people with concerns about the ads being unsafe for epilepsy to “just pay the ad free subscription” is one of the most disgusting things ive ever heard from someone officially representing such a platform. do not be fooled by the reputation tumblr has cultivated: all that it cares about is making money from you. tumblr is “in danger” because it can't turn a profit- because a profit is all they care about!

so why stay here when im happier elsewhere, apart from the addictive compulsion? that's what ive been thinking through for nearly a year, realizing that i have no reason to, and that weaning myself off of the addiction is in my best interest. i can create and blog and have fun online and connect with others and follow other peoples work all without the need for tumblr anymore! and i think id be all the healthier for it.

over the past year ive truly fallen in love with the internet again and ive loved putting myself out there, unrestrained in ways i havent felt since i was very young. but nonetheless ive learned a lot on tumblr, ive had some of the worst and best experiences of my online life, and i dont doubt that i would be a much different person if i had never been a tumblr user for as long as i was. but i had to break out of this shell eventually.

i keep going over this wondering how i can express every feeling in my head, how i can word everything just a little better, how i can make the perfect goodbye. but i think this will have to suffice.

you can still keep up with me online here:

-explore my website: i keep it consistently updated and im always adding new things and writing new posts on my blog! you can even speak to me directly on the site! if you sign my guestbook or use my chatbox ill try to respond :) if theres anything on this list you do id like it to be this one! i worked hard on it! you can even send me chat messages on my homepage! just keep in mind it may not display everything right on most mobile browsers, but it should be mostly navigable...

you can also subscribe to my rss feed. if you don't know what rss is, it allows you to use a feed reader to keep up with updates from sites all over the internet! my rss feed will notify you whenever ive made a new post on my blog or made an interesting edit on my site id like you to take a peek at :0 convenient, right?

you can also email me at wygolvillage@gmail.com to message me directly. if you prefer im also “wygolvillage” on discord

thank you and happy new years :) thanks for seeing me off as i sail to a new sunrise <3

[kylejsugarman]

Idk if you’ve answered this already but at what point in their relationship did Jesse tell Demi ab his past? How did that go over? How much does she know?

ive mentioned it some before but i haven't really gone super in depth!! as u all may know, i am very "and then everyone made it to alaska and everything ended up ok!! :)" minded, so i dont have a big dramatic revelation beat to my story and ultimately, jesse never tells demi that he's living under a completely new identity. however, he does tell her a Lot of other things, partially because he trusts her, partially because he feels guilty keeping things from her that might make her see him differently; he feels that she deserves to know how fucked up he is so she can escape him and avoid tying herself down to a mistake. jesse first tells her about his drug use after demi explains how her sister died, again out of that guilt and the expectation that she won't want to associate with a former(ish) addict, but demi saw firsthand how powerful addiction can be and isnt scared off. when it comes to his criminal history, it takes him a little longer to work up the nerve to disclose that stuff: he's afraid of both endangering her by letting her know what he's done and losing her. he drops a few things along the way, usually related to drug dealing and production since she was so understanding of that aspect of his past, but once they decide to get married, he feels that he owes it to her to be totally honest. the dark details of making and selling the drugs, being around violence and controlling figures. enacting violence himself. losing people. being sold into slavery. he leaves out specific identifying details (demi's never been a current events kind of person but he cant risk her connecting those dots) and places a lot of the blame on himself instead of trying to describe the people from his past who were pulling a lot of those strings. its basically an abridged version of the show's events, no names, no details in certain places (he doesnt even tell her which state he used to live in), and no forgiveness.

demi listens patiently the whole time, not asking many questions along the way. she tenses up when he touches on captivity, but otherwise her demeanor remains open and nonjudgmental. when it's over, she doesn't say anything, which is somehow worse than disgust. jesse is so wound up at this point that he flips out on her, insisting that this is her time to cut her losses. he's a criminal, a fucking murderer. he's evil. demi still doesnt react the way he wants and instead just waits until he's out of venom before reaching out to very gently smooth down his hair. petting the angry, upset dog instead of reflexively giving him away. "im sorry you've had to carry that around with you all this time," she says softly and that breaks him. because it Has been so hard carrying that around. demi asks a few more questions, clarifies a few more things, then tells him what she thinks. that she's seen how he acts now, how he treats people, how he treats himself. that she grew up with a father who sounds like the figures he alluded to in his story. that she is uncertain and insecure about a lot of things, but she's never been more sure that jesse is a good person and that she loves him irrespective of whatever came before. "im dangerous," he insists, a former fighting dog that would rather die than return to the ring. a hand on his own—"then why do i feel so safe with u?"

it's not perfect. there will always be things that jesse never shares with her and he will never totally forgive himself because as the one living person who knows the Extent of what went down, he feels that it's his responsibility to hold himself accountable for It for the rest of his life. demi's perception of him Does change, although not entirely in a negative way, and she is a little hurt that he expected her to bail so quickly and she can't lie and say that her mind doesn't occasionally drift to the fact that her husband has killed people. but at the end of the day, they're two broken people who were utterly convinced that their lives were over before they found each other. this is their second chance at life and they're never going to take that or each other for granted. whatever comes, they're going to face it together

[raven]

what video games would u recommend. based on me seeing ur posts and thinking ur right even though i never know what youre talking about. also i have dogshit taste but i have good taste actually but its bad

OMG

hop on backloggd heres mine and heres my buddy rory's bc they make points too and are generally more serious than me so if you want to be serious u can go there. More under the cut bc i cant shut up 👍

otherwise my pretentious but #real and #true recs that i genuinely think everyone should play are disco elysium, pentiment, and kentucky route zero.

"theyre just good!" - who's lila?, the world ends with you, return of the obra dinn, hylics 2, portal 1&2, ghost trick, outer wilds (however outer wilds may be difficult for whatever reason- i recommend hollow_tones on twitch's streams although she has not streamed the dlc!)

series that have taken over my life for periods of time, for good or ill - dragon age (2 is my fav, all are worth playing, inquisition is dogshit storywise but has good gameplay, centrist liberal writers that make u want to bomb a church (for the record @ fbi this is a reference to the events of one of my favorite characters in the series, not real life. he was justified), ace attorney (1-3 are great with some questionable moments but apollo justice is the best overall game, 5&6 are some of the worst games ive played in my life, and the great ace attorney... exists), and persona (UGH). i can go more in depth about any of these, but i will go more in depth about persona because thats my current disorder and because theyre the most problematic, LOL. but dgmw da and aa are also problematic in many ways

persona - ive posted about it. im realizing i didnt talk about the misogyny in that post because i thought it was well known honestly but like. my god. the misogyny. especially persona 5 royal. dont play 4. or do, bc i need anyone to suffer as i have, but im serious. i feel like whatever people say, its worse. ive also posted about 4.

if you want to lose a week of your life in a "game for 16ish hours, sleep for 8ish hours, repeat" cycle play baldurs gate 3. its a fun game it takes up your time it has great mechanics! do not pay attention to character discourse baby.

if you like good gameplay, play dishonored 1&2

if you don't like good gameplay, play morrowind (this is kind of a joke in that i dont actually think morrowind has bad gameplay, but it still can be tedious.)

if you don't like good gameplay, play the persona 2 duology (this is not a joke, the gameplay in those games are actually bad.)

if you like gameplay, play any katamari game

also gonna plug one of my favorite genres, nonlinear visual novel adjacent games (lots of wordy, story-based segments but there are actual gameplay portions) these games also are not necessarily "good" but they are "fun": 999 (play on DS!!), ai the somnium files (note that this and 999 kind of require a... specific taste with the sexual humor) these games did have sequels but theyre all pretty bad for various reasons but check em out if you enjoyed the originals, paranormasight (one of the best ones in this genre imo), gnosia, 13 sentinels

also i have not hopped on final fantasy 7 (ORIGINAL) but i am about to hop on final fantasy 7 (ORIGINAL). and i am currently struggling against the current playing smt iii nocturne.

also, games that i have not played but interest me storywise and deserve honorable mentions are baroque (not really planning on playing but planning on watching stuff), pathologic classic (played a little and watched a full playthrough years ago, probably will get back to one day), pathologic 2 (never completed), fear and hunger (played for a few hours and decided to watch a playthrough instead), and fear and hunger 2 (not played but planning on playing bc ive heard its a little more user friendly than the original!)

so thats video games.

[junkartie]

I'm hearing 2 opinions on Erdogan and idk I wanted to ask you bcs I got both of them from non-natives. So the first says that he IS a good president, there is just too many outside factors trying to bring him down. And the second told me that he WAS a good a help for the country until he decided to care about some other things (colonisation ?) which eventually led to the current downfall. Maybe both are right or both are wrong, what do you think?

(can you tell I love political discussions because I don't I'm just really invested cause you're one of my fav blogs hehe)

Non natives love to defend Erdo which is why us Turks have a whole term for them. Most of it however DOES stem from the second option being true.

Erdogan was in fact a very good leader in his first few years of power, now my family personally never liked him, he technically was in power on the sidelines for 10 years until he became president 10 yrs go. He did many things like make hospitals and healthcare way more accessible, fixed a lot of roads and built bridges etc. Now you may go “jay, isnt that what a normal president is supposed to do ?” Well, yes. But the guy before him didnt do a whole lot, so him doing his literal job was enough to convince people he was good enough to keep around.

As time went on he started to take a way harsher approach. Slowly but surely the price and tax on everything went up. Religion started to be the hottest topic in turkey despite us being a secular country on paper.Slowly festivals became too loud, protests were bothersome, pride parades were sinful, gays werent considered people, music after 12 wasnt allowed, Eurovision was something too embarrassing for our country to take place in, alcohol was a luxury that only the desperate & sinful tried to buy, women were not obedient enough, the legal age to get married was too high, sex before marriage became a big topic, rapists and murderers would walk freely, femicide got to a brand new high and a whole lot more.

This all happened slowly and gradually. By the time we thought to speak up on any of this the i-don’t-even know, 60% yearly inflation rate had worn us down. A dollar was no longer 2.5 TL, it was close to 25. Nothing could be bought with minimum wage. Whatever you bought, you bought a second one for the govt in tax (a phone here costs twice the price of one in america). People who vote for him mostly do so because all media outlets are heavily censored and totally in his favor. He has control of literally everything. Literally!! He hosted a referendum where he legally was given so much power that he can change whatever he wants on a whim. He will confidently lie out of his teeth and tell his supporters that the reason everything is so expensive is because of his opposition (who have virtually no power) + its fine because even if we’re poor we’re closer to god and his supporters eat it up because they have some fucked up parasocial relationship with him.

Right now we’re screwed beyond belief. The election was rigged in his favor but despite everything he either wasnt able to end it on the first round or intentionally didnt so he could win by a higher margin on the next round. The house is fucked, the opposition lost a ton of seats to highly religious islamic fanatics who straight up advocate for sharia law. That and the president literally had an alliance with a terrorist organization who want 15 year olds to get married, theyre also in the house. Its great.

Now we wait for the 28th, but its going to take a miracle for Erdogan to lose. I have virtually 0 hope at this point. One thing is foreigners defending him, but any turk who does so deserve everything they get. I truly hope anyone who voted for him suffer a fate worse than death (at this rate, they will). It may sound harsh, but ive seen no one in power except for this absolute sorry of an excuse, cunt of a man. My teens and childhood was wasted away with terrorist attacks and a staged coup, along with a power hungry man who made every walking day of my life worse than what it could have been.

Basically, wish us the best of luck i guess lol.

[catboygirljoker]

you should say more about lamia. for his fans (me)

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 ughgghuuguuguu thank you.....

lamia (he/they) is a bristly autistic motherfucker in his mid-to-late twenties who doesnt take care of himself nearly as well as he ought to. their gut reaction to sincere (or insincere) affection is to panic and tell people to fuck off. they are The Bearer of a Curse. despite The Horrors he fights tooth and nail for a better future for the people around him. actually he fights a little too hard. he could stand to take a nap and eat a bagel or something. their favorite things are sweets, sitting alone on a roof, stimming by killing monsters, and dilfs.

above is an image of the sim i made of them, Happy, and in a Pleasant Conversation. very in character for him tee hee

Deep Lamia Lore under the cut. spoilers for the fic of which i have posted not a single word

also: content warning for speculative fiction parental abuse. putting this below the readmore because the fact that it happens is a spoiler lol

lamia has had horrific nightmares since he was little. their father was a researcher at what i can best describe as a magical laboratory and promised lamia that he would find a way to help them with the nightmares, saying that they're caused by the Darkness in their Heart. in the meantime the nightmares only got worse and worse. well it turns out his dad was lying the entire time. his dad's research was in how to transfer darkness from one person's heart into another's, and he's been transferring his own darkness into lamia's heart the entire time. ("darkness" and "heart" in this case are both pretty vague concepts that can mean a lot of things, this is how ive decided to play with those ideas for this character)

ten years ago the town he grew up in was taken over by an evil witch who unleashed a bunch of monsters on the town and nearly destroyed it, at which time his parents abandoned him because, well, it's not like his dad would be able to continue his research if he couldn't get to the lab. their current occupation is killing monsters and trying to protect people and restore the town. he runs himself absolutely ragged, barely eats, barely sleeps (because nightmares). he has friends, but there's really only so much they can do to support him when they're also trying to do the same thing he is.

despite his bristliness he's also the type of person to just give and give and give of himself until there's nothing left, not out of any kind of misplaced goodhearted altruism necessarily, because he feels he has to. they've had a couple really awful relationships--not abusive per se, but relationships with people who implicitly blamed them for the Darkness in their Heart and wanted to shape them into something more palatable.

this is the short version. and YES theyre a kingdom hearts oc. theyre a very angsty and tonally dissonant kingdom hearts oc. i made them up so they could kiss a weird old man who talks like a surfer. they have a keyblade and everything. its an old rusty broken keyblade that doesnt even work right. but it's like, Themes.

and before anyone is concerned about the age gap, lamia is 1. a fucked up but fully grown adult and 2. the same age or older than some of the most common characters xig is shipped with. so

[spikeinthepunch]

i have my 2022 art summary queued up and just want to ramble about the last year,... lots of stuff happened, good and bad! been a strange time.

i imagine most followers around have probably been here since late 2020 but 2020-21 i did art quite a bit, but the thing that really stuck for that period was i was super involved in warrior cats RP for some time-- i love RPing and these group also got me motivated to draw too! but i feel like i kind of wasnt around in the typical way due to how consumed i was in it. i dont think i need to go into detail of every month during that time, but it wasnt until early this year where i dropped it, and i didnt really publicize in detail why due to the issues surrounding it, but it was probably the biggest impact on me this year mentally, and in terms of art direction. and i feel like itd feel good to document this in a blog after it has now blown over- and why ive shifted my direction too.

i was very happily running my own RP server for just a year before i had to close it this year and it still makes me sad, as much as i moved on. ARP was like... a very big deal for me and i cant deny that. i dont have a lot of projects i get that into or get even close to setting off with its story figured out. i wrote well over 100 pages of documents for the world and the 6 planned arcs. i drew loads of art i couldnt even share until it closed (tbh im not positive i have shared it anyways bc i didnt wanna post it here). i made a website, i made riddles and code, i developed lore that was far outside of the warrior cats scope to it basically just being original!

truly i have never developed a project as far as i made ARP and to shut it down in order to save my privacy and past trauma from being further exposed in such an inappropriate way really sucked ass. a lot. it was a situation where there was no control given to me, no sense of understanding from the community. im not writing this out now to be pointing fingers and calling out names- just venting how it took a toll on me this year. what had happened with my server was that one of my own mods decided to dig into my profiles and found an old nsfw page, which even more indirectly led to an old flist, which exposed various things i was into around 17-19, reflecting trauma and abuse id been through (in it, voiced wanting to take part in certain kinks; ex. being a victim to violence and dubious consent scenarios). this information was at first presented as a threat to minors viewing my RP page (as in "ppl can see your nsfw profile from the blog!") which wasnt true/accessible as they said it was and required many many clicks to find, and then slowly revealed to me the people exposing this were in fact two of my own mods and was promptly cut off from explaining anything else as it spread in a private mod discord in the RP community. Which was worse to me than everything else that could have happened honestly, and i only learned this second hand from a person who saw it in that discord and thought it was horrible this information was spreading like that behind my back. in some ways things were okay-- i didnt get "called out" openly as i did my best to explain how these pages were not current to those around me, and that they had dug into some deep cutting trauma and a period where i wasnt getting any help to cope properly. it still didnt stop the fact i left every other RP i was in due to connections w those exposing it, and in turn closing my own. i dont want to say im thankful i didnt get called out publicly, but the damage was bad enough in so many other ways because i couldnt continue my server at all, and in the end people's obsession with purity culture in the fandom still made them deem me "bad" because i had nsfw accounts in any capacity. thats not a space i want to be around anyways...

ill forever be thankful for those who stuck it out to the end and witnessed the documents i got to share before closing it for good. but this was a HUGE part of my life for the last years of the pandemic, and i wasnt there for warriors cats- i was there for the people i knew, and the stories i made. i still miss RP a lot, and i want to host projects like that again after moving on mentally from that ordeal.

but my 2022 art summary shows a major shift that was 100% in part to disconnecting from wcrp. humans everywhere! seriously. for a solid few months i couldnt even bare to look at anything related to ARP. i didnt want to think about how i lost this story i developed so hard for so long.

honestly didnt really start drawing properly again until the summer- my art during my HL phase was very very light and very messy. i fell into a hard depression early summer and i only crawled out when i got into mcyt- and even then i was hiding it from this blog. i think i just needed to not feel like i was "online", because August included me joining a onceler RP and again, not saying anything about it. which Weehawken was the first RP thing I had done since i closed ARP too, and it was weird. not the RP itself, it just felt weird to try that again.

and it wasnt my favorite month, i just felt so tired and exhausted- that depression was kinda lingering and drawing a lot for an RP again was something i wasnt really used to anymore.

the past three months have been.... better? or i have at least enjoyed what i am drawing more. i think im far enough removed from what happened with ARP too that it doesnt weigh on me as strongly. i wasnt blaming myself for anything but it doesnt feel good when you know you have to kill something. we talked about recovering it, i had ideas, but i just knew it wouldnt be worth trying to with so much damage caused in my own self, and the impression that whole community left on me knowing people would willingly spread such personal information without question. having trauma exposed after going to therapy and relearning how to use the internet in a way that doesnt lean on trauma dumping and whatever unhealthy bullshit? its quite a blow. i dont make personal blogs like this often because i have good methods to deal with my shit these days.

despite this messy year im doing well. its been ups and downs. overall i know im far more confident in myself, i moved out to live on my own, and im just doing my thing. whatever bull shit happened this year, call out or not, i know im still just gonna keep doing whatever it is im doing. and heres to hoping i can bring a world to life like i did with ARP again, bc i really have a lot i want to tell and show and do.

[annisthree]

Chapter XI: We stand together

previous chapter // series masterlist

Pairing: Cassian Andor x Original Female Character

Word Count: ~7k

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Explicit language, canon typical violence, hurt/comfort, alcohol use

Chapter summary: Back at the base, Marla is recovering after being held prisoner, and a new chapter in the Rebellion's history is about to begin.

A/N: This is it. I can't believe it.

If you had told me half a year ago that I would be back to writing after more than ten years, I would have never believed it. It's been such a fantastic journey, and I'm so happy to be doing this again.

Once again, thank you all for the amazing, AMAZING support. I was honestly surprised that anyone even read it, but seeing the continuous outpour of kind words was insane. I mean it.

Now, for the future: there's definitely another part coming, but I need a bit of a break to figure out the details. And maybe write a short drabble or two before I jump into something longer again. I'm guessing I should be back with the second part sometime in January, but it's hard to say.

Again: I LOVE YOU all. Writing this has brought me so much joy; it's surreal.

(Oh, and remember when I said that the last chapter was the longest one? Well, seems like I lied.)

Cross-posted on AO3 (same username).

'Captain Andor. Your presence has been urgently requested in the med bay.'

Cassian rubbed his eyes ,  looking at the medical droid that had woken him up in the middle of the night. The intensity of the last mission was still weighing on him, and he was hoping to finally get some sleep in his warm, comfortable bed on the base. 

Clearly, today was not the day.

'Why?' he practically moaned, deciding he didn't have to uphold his highest professional standards for a medical droid. To accentuate this decision, he let out a long, dramatic yawn.

'It's Lieutenant Reid. She's-'

Cassian felt like someone had just dumped a bucket of cold water on his head.  Of course it's about Marla, idiot. Why else would you be needed in the med bay? And if they're requesting your presence, does that mean that something is-

'Is she all right?' 

'Oh,  she is  all right. Visibly regaining her strength. The problem isn't  her  well-being; it's the well-being of our medical personnel. Sir.'

Cassian was amazed at how quickly he was circulating through different emotions, 'Could you... could you elaborate?'

'You might be aware of the doctor's recommendation to have her receive IV therapy to aid the loss of electrolytes stemming from dehydration. Well, it wasn't a problem when she was under anaesthesia, but as soon as she woke up, she began... protesting . Quite emphatically. She is currently refusing to be subjected to further treatment, and her refusal is manifested in a rather forceful way. I was sent to find a mediator.'

The droid has finished the report and tilted its mechanical head to the left, awaiting further orders. Only now did Cassian realise that the droid was in somewhat worse shape than it was standard. Sure, most of their droids had some sort of issues, most were patched up with different scratch parts, but this one looked... beaten up. For starters, one of its arms was detached and held in the droid's only remaining hand. There also seemed to be a noticeable dent in its core area. 

Cassian rolled his eyes, returning to his default state of tiredness.

'Why me?'

'I have already spoken with the rest of your crew, captain, but they all said you are the only person capable of negotiating with the lieutenant. Sir.'

Somehow, he really doubted that. Still, he was her superior (a fact he should probably remember more often, he noted), so he was responsible for keeping her in check. Or at least attempting to do so.

'Great. Lead the way.'

The droid emitted a series of beeps, then whirled around in place and began energetically stomping forward, occasionally waving its detached arm in the air.

There were so many women on the base, Cassian's sleepy subconsciousness noted. So many beautiful, smart,  emotionally stable  women. 

Why did he always get himself into such a mess?

*

The corridors of the ancient Massasi temple were almost empty at that hour, apart from a couple of pilots spilling out of the hangar bay and towards the sleeping quarters at regular intervals. Overall, however, the base had gained some improvements over those couple of weeks when they were gone - the electricity had clearly been extended everywhere, which meant they finally didn't have to rely on their glowsticks not to end up flattened against a stone wall. There was also a faint hint of music somewhere far away - was it the hangar bay or the mess hall?

As they walked towards the med bay, Cassian realised the reappearance of that familiar nervous energy humming through his body. He hadn't seen Marla since they arrived on base - she was immediately snatched by a team of medics, together with the rest of the prisoners, and transported to the med bay. He went in to check on her right after the mission debrief, but he was informed that they administered more anaesthetics and declared they would keep her asleep for a couple of days to help her regenerate. It also made it easier to take care of her multiple bone fractures and all the smaller injuries that required attention.

He would never admit it, but he was relieved to have a couple of days for himself. Not that he was tired of Marla; far from it, he was, in fact, still very much affected by her imprisonment, and he would be lying if he said he didn't miss her presence. There were many moments when he walked right up the med bay door, only to turn around with resignation at the last moment.

It was just... easier this way. They still never addressed what happened that night before the attack, and then the only other interaction he had with her was right after her rescue - and talking about their feelings wasn't exactly very high on their agenda at that moment,

But sooner or later, they would have to talk about it and agree on some sort of strategy. And for the first time in his military career, Cassian had no idea what  strategy  would work best.

*

The past couple of days had been a blur. Marla remembered a bit from their journey back to the base - the memory of the rescue itself had been a bit hazy, but then she remembered waking up in her quarters on the ship. Luckily, someone had left a night light on - whether that was a deliberate attempt to make her feel safer or not, it definitely helped her immediately recognise where she was. Or, more specifically, where she wasn't. And that alone made her feel a thousand times better, even if she was still hurting in every possible manner.

Her first instinct then had been to go to the cockpit. She had to pass a number of heavily wounded people on her way and had to try very hard not to look at that one man who was having his malfunctioning cybernetic prosthetic re-amputated - but once she made it, she could finally let out a breath of relief. She was home. She knew it because she was on her ship, because she could see the stars outside of the viewport, and because Cassian was there.

She must have fallen asleep in the pilot chair because the next thing she remembered was getting out of the ship, supported by someone she didn't recognise. As soon as they landed, they got swarmed by medics, nurses, and people who had nothing to do with medicine but were recruited to help. Someone was coordinating the efforts - they must have made a list of the most injured on their way back because it was surprisingly organised. At one point, someone approached her with a stretcher, but she just let out a short laugh and began limping her way inside the base.

Cassian caught up with her in no time; of course he did. And just as sure as the sound of his footsteps and his arm reaching out to support her, she felt the familiar warmth spreading over her entire body, in a way that was both beautiful and terrifying.

But she didn't dare say anything, and neither did he, and once they got to the med bay, there were so many people bustling about, so many med droids pushing her towards an empty bed, so many sounds and people and eyes, and soon enough he slipped away and disappeared. Moments later, she felt a dull stab of a needle in her forearm, and before she could react (somehow, she wasn't thrilled about needles, not after her last encounter with them), she fell asleep on the squeaky hospital bed.

The next few days were swathed in a thick fog of blurry awakenings and immediate returns to sleep. She would only regain consciousness for long enough to open her eyes and get a very vague understanding of where she was and why, before a med droid would roll over in her direction, fiddle with something above her head, and suddenly she would be out again.

And that suited her very well, because as soon as she realised she was in a med bay, as soon as she saw the medical equipment, and the hospital beds, and the people in white scrubs that looked too much like lab coats - there was always a cold wave of irrational panic creeping in from the back of her head. The place looked nothing like the lab in that Imperial research facility - it was too busy, too colourful, and too  warm . Still, she couldn't help but check for restraints every time she woke up.

The one time she stayed awake for a bit longer, she had just begun registering her surroundings again when a med droid appeared out of nowhere and unceremoniously grabbed her forearm, clearly attempting to hook her up to some sort of an IV. Still hazy from the days spent under anaesthesia, she jumped up and unthinkingly pushed the droid away. A bit too forcefully, perhaps, seeing how the surprised helper ended up crashing into the next bed with a loud thump.

'Lieutenant Reid. Good to see you're awake. You seem to be doing much better, but we're gonna need to keep you with us for just a couple more days to help you regain all the strength.'

The person talking turned out to be a young man with a calm, almost apologetic smile and a datapad in one hand.

'I'm feeling fine. I don't need to stay here. And I definitely don't need whatever this little fella was trying to give me.'

'The med droid,' the man started, eyeing the battered droid that was still knocked down a couple of metres from Marla's bed, 'is going to administer the IV fluids. They will help you feel...'

'Like hell he is,' she protested loudly, sitting up on her bed and gathering the strength to stand up. The sudden change of position made her see stars for a moment, but she was determined not to let it show.

'Lieutenant, I'm gonna have to ask you to lay down. I promise this will help.'

Marla snorted cynically, sending the man a hateful look. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and began standing up.

'Lieutenant-' the man reached out a hand in her direction, and that was definitely his mistake. Grabbing the first thing she spotted, which happened to be a durasteel IV stand, Marla moved to a defensive position.

'I don't think so,' she seethed. It crossed her mind how ridiculous she must have looked, still in her dirty and ripped clothes, with bacta patches around her hand and ribs, swinging an IV stand with manic desperation in her eyes. Still, she was not going to let them get near her. She was fine, for fuck's sake.

The doctor looked tired as he took a step back.

'Look, if I were to fight every patient who thinks they know better, I would be doing nothing else all day. You are free to do whatever you want, but I must inform you it is my duty to report any incidents to the command.'

'Great. I'm sure they will be delighted to see my name again. Thanks for the heads up, buddy.'

She lowered the metal rod and started towards the exit, only to have her way barred at the last moment.

'Cassian. Hi.'

'Lieutenant Reid. I was asked to escort you back to your hospital bed.'

If she was happy to see him for a split second, all of that evaporated immediately at the sound of his words.

'Well, I'm sorry you have been troubled for nothing. I'm fine, and I'm leaving. Now, if you excuse me...'

She took a step forward and almost bumped into his chest. He was clearly not moving anywhere.

'Don't think for a second that I wouldn't fight you,  captain .'

She was staring him down with all the defiance and intensity her tired body could muster. They were silent for a while, each waiting for the other one to stand down.

Finally, Cassian sighed and looked over her shoulder towards the doctor.

'Doctor. What's her status?'

'I told you I'm-'

'She is recovering quickly, but she needs to keep resting for another couple of days. I have also prescribed a set of tonics to combat the side effects of dehydration.'

'Noted. Can this be administered in her quarters?'

The doctor paused for a moment, visibly undecided.

'I mean- technically. But she would need to stay in bed-'

'For fuck's sake, I'm right here.'

'Got it,' Cassian was visibly set on ignoring her input. 'I'll have her set up in her quarters. You can send over one of the droids in ten minutes. I'll see to it that she receives her treatment.'

'You will do no such-'

'Do you want to stay here?' he retorted with irritation evident in his voice, finally acknowledging her existence. She rolled her eyes but stayed silent. 'Good. Let's go.'

Cassian was visibly tired and even more visibly annoyed, but there was a hint of gentleness in his touch as he grabbed her by the arm to support her. Marla wanted to be mad, she wanted to tell him off for trying to order her around, but the mixture of exhaustion and a slight surprise at the contact with his warm hand subdued her frustration just enough to have her keep her mouth shut for the rest of the way.

'I think I liked you more when you were unconscious,' Cassian murmured gravely, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly when she looked at him. Marla realised she hadn't seen him smile in a longest time.

Fine, she would take that stupid IV.

*

Quite soon, Marla realised that she liked herself more when she was unconscious, too. It prevented her from thinking about all those things that were suddenly much scarier than all of the Empire combined.

She had been happy to see Cassian in that Imperial facility, his face being the first real thing to have emerged out of the cold and damp darkness in days. She had been happy to see him in the cockpit of their ship on the way back to the base, him and his tired, concerned face that was stained with someone's blood. And she had been happy (although she would never admit it) to see him in the med bay, where his presence once again reassured her that she was  home , and those constantly beeping monitors and needles and scalpels were there to  help  people, not to experiment on them.

She was happy to see him, she really was, but that happiness was tainted with the memory of how his skin had felt under her fingertips and the petrifying adoration in his eyes that was both the most treasured accolade and a fatal curse, or a poison, one that would slowly weaken them both over time.

But how does one turn their eyes on an exploding star, when all the colours dance their final dance, when the destruction of something so beautiful and life-affirming evokes this unstoppable fascination and yearning, yearning to become part of the luminous spectacle, even if getting closer means your ship burns and melts and joins the grim cluster of cosmic debris.

And so she gave in and told herself - yet again - she would be able to pull up at the last minute, she would avoid being trapped in the gravitational field, she would just look a little bit longer.

Cassian walked her back to her room and helped her take off the bacta patches she had around her ribs - keeping all the professional distance a captain should. It was funny to see him like this, so careful not to let his fingers linger for too long on her skin, so intent on being as mechanical and impersonal as possible. As if he hadn't already seen all of her, both physically and emotionally.

He waited patiently as she took a shower, her first one in a week. Marla knew he must have noticed how the door to her refresher had been left slightly ajar, just enough to let the steam out, but apparently not enough for him to read it as an invitation. Or maybe he did, but decided now was the time to begin acting all gentlemanly.

Or maybe he was no longer interested, now that her body was covered in fresh scars and his hands had already claimed every square centimetre of her skin. What was there left to explore, what was there to want, when he had already taken everything she could give him and more?

He was still waiting in her room when she finished the shower, and looked as casual as one could when she circled around the room in an oversized t-shirt that was drowning her in a way that couldn't possibly have been doing her body any favour.

After a while, she located a hairbrush and began combing through her dripping wet hair.

'How long exactly are you planning to act as my security guard? You must have realised by now that you can just rig the door panel if you really want to make sure I don't escape.'

'Crossed my mind,' he said flatly, watching her struggle to braid her hair with one good hand. 'May I?'

Marla had no idea what invisible force was looking over her that day, but somehow she managed not to drop the hairbrush at the last moment. And not to suffocate from forgetting how to breathe.

The way he had said it made it sound like the most natural thing in the world, so logical - she was injured, doing one's hair with one hand was challenging, he had two good hands ( and a very skilful set of fingers)  - of course, it was only natural to offer help. She was sure she would have done the same for anyone else, for Aevie, for that Mandalorian girl who supposedly helped get her out of prison, even for Salvatore, if there had been anything left on his head to braid.

And yet she was absolutely dissolving at the sound of these words, the same ones she'd heard before; only then they had been an interlude to something she would be wise not to think about at that moment.

Somehow though, he looked as casual as one could. Stupid spy with his stupid poker face.

'Yeah. Thanks. They said I'm gonna need to wear the cast for a couple more days,' she mumbled somewhat apologetically.

He crossed the room to reach her, and suddenly it felt like the cruellest déjà vu. He was carefully running his fingers through her wet hair, and she was staring right into the core of a burning sun, praying for a quick and painless death.

The closeness, the gentle touch, the barely registerable huff of his breath on her shoulder - it was so much, almost too much, but it also felt so good. She shut her eyes tightly as he continued down the length of her hair, trying to focus on anything else than the opportunity she had within her grasp. Seconds turned into minutes, and she wasn't sure anymore when was the last time she breathed.

'Hey,' he said quietly, placing one hand on her shoulder, and she realised he had finished quite a while ago, and she was still there, struggling to breathe and tense to the limits. 'You know you're safe here, right?'

How could he even... Why? Is it because she was so tense? Did he think she was afraid-

And just like that, all the repressed pain, uncertainty and fear that she tried so hard not to let in when she was in that cell by herself - all of that somehow came back in that moment, triggered by the softness and concern behind that one question. He didn't deserve to think he was anything less than the only thing that kept her sane through those long, scary nights when her only companions were the screams of tortured prisoners and a throbbing pain in her skull. He must know the only way she had survived was by detaching herself from everything that was happening, and taking her mind to the one place where they wouldn't ever find her: in her imagination, she was on her ship, sitting in the pilot seat, and staring in the stars outside of the viewport, and Cassian was always there with her, sitting right next to her, and he was telling her she would be all right over and over again until his voice in her head drowned out even the loudest of screams.

He deserved to know these things. But then, how do you tell someone all that and not make it sound like a promise? She couldn't afford to make any promises, just as he couldn't afford to accept any. They were at war, and the Rebellion always had to come first. They had no right no make any promises. Hell, they had no right to have any other feelings apart from those directed at the Empire and the Rebellion.

She wanted nothing else than to tell him how much it meant to be around him, to have him care for her, to have that one treasured memory of how his lips felt on hers.

But she also wanted to do the  right thing , and so she did the exact opposite of what her body was telling her to do and took a large step forward to build some distance between them. When she then turned around to face him, she could see the concern in his eyes, and she hated herself for the cold and casual tone she somehow managed to muster.

'Yeah. I know.'

There was no way in hell he believed that, and he was now probably more worried than ever. He seemed to think that she was afraid of him, that it was somehow his fault, and she wanted to grab her blaster and shoot her stupid useless heart for not letting her tell him how wrong he got it.

Of all the things she wanted to tell him, none sounded good enough - or safe enough. 

So instead, she gritted her teeth and sent him a fake smile.

'I should be going,' he muttered flatly after a moment. 'The med droid will be here any minute. Just stay in bed for as long as they tell you, okay?'

His voice was seemingly emotionless, but there was an undertone of defeat, and she wanted to yell at him, tell him that he was the only source of warmth in her frozen body - but the door was already closing behind him, and all she could do was do bite down on her lip and try not to scream.

*

She had planned to follow the doctor's orders; she really had. But then she spent two days without leaving her room, having only a med droid (who checked on her several times a day and sometimes delivered new tonics or bacta patches) as a thought partner, because after their last meeting Cassian had decided to make himself scarce. She didn't blame him; in fact, as painful as it was, she also knew it was necessary and needed to help them recover from that brief moment of blindness, of madness, of selfishness, or whatever the fuck that was.

Still, sitting there by herself inevitably led her to  thinking , and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

So, she did the only thing she could think of, something as pathetically  Marla  as possible - she sneaked out and went to check on that makeshift cantina they had put together with the rest of the crew before leaving for Scen.

The last time she was there, it was just their crew and a bunch of crates with alcohol they had  borrowed  from an Imperial restaurant on one of their previous runs. Entering the place again, she didn't expect to see it bustling with activity. There were at least twenty people inside, they had constructed something that resembled an actual bar counter, and someone even spray-painted the Rebel sign and the words "The Drunken Bantha" on the wall.

'Marla!' she heard a friendly voice, and soon she spotted a familiar face sending her a warm smile, 'Wait, aren't you supposed to be on bedrest?' Zafe asked, his loud and cheerful voice clearly indicating he'd already had a couple of drinks.

'Maybe,' she gave him a wide grin and sat by the table. Someone handed her a bottle of something unidentified and pungent. 'Not much of a secret hideout anymore, huh?'

'Yeah, turns out trying to keep a secret on a base filled with thieves and scoundrels isn't really that easy. Especially if that secret involves alcohol. This is nothing, though - you should have seen this place yesterday when everyone was still here...'

'Sounds like I'm missing out on some action. Whose ass are we kicking this time?'

'Not really,' Zafe made a face. 'It's some sort of a show of force. Someone's making some important speech on the holo net, and we were asked to send ships to show our support. Supposedly, we're an  Alliance   now.'

'Alliance, huh?'

'Yeah. Apparently, we weren't the only ones who managed to successfully enlist a bunch of local rebels. Everyone's been busy negotiating and agreeing on things and, well,  allying . You've met the Phoenix squadron - that's just a part of it; we will now be becoming a central hub for all Rebel activity. All sorts of important people coming to our little moon.'

'Well, that's what we wanted. If it means we can finally do some actual fighting instead of sneaking around, then I'll drink to that.'

They took a moment to clink their bottles, Zafe leaning back in his chair ( where the hell did they get chairs? ).

'Don't get me wrong, I'm all for having the numbers. It's just... I'd prefer these numbers not stationed in my formerly single quarters. You know, I've already grown used to not waking up to someone's snoring.'

'Wait. They are bunking us up again?'

'Oh, right, you wouldn't have heard. That's probably because a certain captain has fought the command to let you keep a single room until you are no longer on bedrest. But there's already a bunk waiting for you,  riiiight  above mine,' he winked, grinning widely.

Marla tried her best not to think about Cassian defending her single room in front of the command, but it was too late, and the redness had already crept onto her cheeks. Luckily, no one seemed to have been paying attention to her. Besides, she could easily justify the blushing with the alcohol.

Plus, she was sure Cassian would have done it for anyone. Nothing special.

'Why is it that I always end up bunked up with you, sergeant Caius? Have I not suffered enough?'

'Hey, you should be thanking me. You could have ended up with a bunch of strangers.'

'Maker,' she sighed dramatically, 'is there any way I can sign up to be moved back to that Imperial prison? At least they gave me a single cell...'

'Sorry, Lieutenant. Strangely enough, it kinda exploded after we had left,' he said with a proud grin, and Marla couldn't help but return the smile. She was teasing him, but in all reality, it actually wasn't that terrible of a solution. She had spent so many years sharing her quarters with other people, she could probably tolerate it a while longer.

'Okay. Who else is in our lucky bunch?'

'Aevie and Sal are on the other side of the room; there are also a couple of random folks from that group from Scen, don't really know them. But I guess we  will  get to know them, very intimately and very soon.' Zafe delivered with a smirk.

Marla groaned loudly, but then her brain registered one name missing from that list. Zafe was quick to read her. 'The command still has single rooms. Anyone with the rank of a captain and above, to be specific,' He winked at her knowingly.

'No way. No. Fucking. Way. Not fair,' In reality, she was praising the Maker. The last thing she needed was bumping into half-naked Cassian on her way to the bed. Or better yet, bumping into  someone  rolling out of Cassian's bunk in the morning.

Stars.

Yes, she could take roommates, as long as Cassian wasn't one of them.

*

Marla spent some time catching up with Zafe, but eventually, he stood up and stumbled drunkenly towards the exit, advising her to do the same. And, indeed, every muscle in her body was telling her she should do just that - she was feeling much better than days ago, but she was still weakened, and the alcohol definitely didn't help with regaining strength.

But it was so nice to finally not be confined to four naked walls, to see people, hear them chatter and laugh. And as much as her body would probably benefit from staying in bed, her soul was devouring all the stimuli around her and healing with every second of her being around others.

So she let her legs carry her forward, through the dimly lit corridors, towards the hangar bay, where the familiar smell of jet fuel tingled her nostrils.

She could indeed see more ships than when they had left for Scen, and if Zafe's account was correct, there were even more, currently cruising through hyperspace to show up in support of the new Rebel Alliance. She was rather happy no one had asked her to be part of that mission - she was never particularly good with grand speeches and theatrical gestures. But then again, she imagined the view of hundreds of ships frozen motionlessly in space must have been quite a sight. An unsung song of hope. An alliance, at last.

She took a long swig from her bottle and started towards the outer landing pad. She was painfully aware of how slowly she was walking and how unsteady her steps were, but it felt too good to give up.

As soon as she was outside and felt the warm air caressing her skin, she realised what a luxury it was not to shiver from cold, not to see your own breath and not to have your fingers freezing off within seconds of stepping outside. Even with all its humidity, Yavin IV always had a calming effect on her. It was so reassuring to see the same stars shining brightly in the sky, casting a delicate, ethereal light over the dense forest and the ancient structures scattered around the area. 

Marla took a moment to appreciate the view, leaning over a supply crate left outside. In her quiet awe, she almost didn't hear the footsteps approaching from the base.

'I wish I could say I was surprised,' Cassian's voice reached her from behind.

She wasn't ready to face him, damn it. Especially not in  these  circumstances, slightly intoxicated and looking at the stars. Way too poetic and cliche. Way too many scenarios in which this could go wrong.

She took another long sip from the bottle and decided not to turn around, instead fixing her gaze somewhere beyond the vastness of the jungle.

'Are you saying I'm boring?' she retorted, trying to hide the slight hint of panic in her voice.

'I wouldn't dare,' he said with a slight chuckle. She loved the lightness in his voice. Somehow, it transported her back to her early days with the Rebellion, when  the cause  and the Empire were her only problems. Seemed like a lifetime ago.

'The speech is about to start. They are gathering in the hangar bay.'

Oh, right, the speech. As much as Marla disliked politics, she had to admit she was rather curious; the whole base seemed to be buzzing with anticipation.

She decided to turn around towards the base - and towards Cassian. The light from Yavin's three other moons spilt over his features, casting a warm glow over his face and making his eyes look almost silver.

Somehow, she felt a bit more woozy again. Damn jet juice. She should have known better than to trust Zafe's choice of drink.

'Yeah, let's go inside,' she said, a bit more weakly than she would have wanted to.

There was that investigative look on his face again that she knew so well, and for a moment, she had the uncomfortable feeling of being dissected into small components. Worst of all, she understood he could read her like a book - she could see him raise one eyebrow and take a breath to say something, but he stopped himself at the very last second.

Marla did her best to put a brave face on, but her body wasn't still fully cooperative. She was slow and dizzy, and she saw Cassian hesitate and bite back yet another remark. He knew how much she hated being pitied, so he didn't say anything, instead accompanying her in silence, adapting his pace to her limping. 

Finally, they made it inside. In the middle of the hangar bay, there was a droid - an old R1 series. At least two dozen people of different ages and races were gathered around, chatting excitedly.

Cassian stopped somewhere at the back - at a distance that would still allow them to see everything but that placed them away from attention. That's what he did best - hiding just out of sight. Getting close, but not close enough.

She saw him stop next to a wall and turn around to wait for her. She hated how pathetically incapable she was at that moment, but he didn't seem to mind - or, at least, was doing a very good job at pretending he didn't. Meanwhile, Marla made a painful realisation that her legs were beginning to have a mind of their own, barely able to sustain her weight anymore - but she was so close, she would lean against the wall soon and rest, just a couple more steps...

Before she could register what was happening, Marla felt Cassian grab her by the arms, and she realised he had caught her at the very last moment, most likely saving her from falling flat on her face. 

Good job, Marla. If he wasn't pitying you before, he surely is now.

As she was trying to get her head to stop spinning, she felt him support her weight, help her with those last couple of steps, and then assist her with sitting down against the wall.

'All right?'

Cassian knew her well enough to know he should hide his concern, but  she knew him well enough  to see through it immediately. And her mind began reflexively defending against that concern - until she looked up and saw his face in front of hers, and suddenly the need to hide behind protective walls evaporated completely.

For the first time since she could remember, she didn't feel the need to prove how tough she was, to prove that she could handle anything bad the world threw at her. It felt strange and new, but also  freeing . Like a restrictive garment you were forced to wear that you could now tear off; like screaming after days of silence; like falling asleep in her own bed after a long battle. It was warm and natural. And she'd only ever felt that way around Cassian.

And he was right there, his warm dark eyes telling her he  knew , he recognised her and her fear, and yet he was still willing to accept all of it, all of  her .

His eyes, Maker, she could drown in them; such a perfect way to die. And they were getting closer, too, and so was the rest of his face as he slowly leaned towards her. And soon enough, she could feel his breath fanning over her face, his lips just centimetres away, hesitantly making their way towards hers, emanating heat and anticipation and-

Suddenly, a loud sound came from the centre of the hangar bay, and they both bolted up in surprise, immediately regaining safe distance and desperately avoiding eye contact. After the longest couple of seconds in her life, Marla saw Cassian move away to her side, sitting down by the wall and fixing his gaze forward, on the blue projection that was now being displayed by the droid.

Right, the speech. Suddenly, Marla couldn't care less - but there it was, anyway.

'This is Senator Mon Mothma.' 

Well, thank you, Senator Mon Mothma, for ruining a perfect moment. 

'I have been called a traitor for speaking out against a corrupt Galactic Senate. A Senate manipulated by the sinister tactics of the Emperor.'

The woman speaking was wearing official senatorial attire, but her voice had the determination and spark Marla has never heard in any other politician. And there was something in her eyes, too - she had the eyes of a leader, but there was also kindness, compassion and a hint of warmth. 

'For too long I have watched the heavy hand of the Empire strangle our liberties, stifling our freedoms in the name of ensuring our safety. No longer!'

Marla couldn't help herself and quickly glanced at Cassian. His eyes were sparking, too, but with a different kind of fire - one that could only burn inside a soul of a man who has seen and done things no high-born Senator would ever even want to imagine.

She felt a sudden need to lift off some of that weight, to offer shelter from the raging fire - but she knew her own scars and burns were running just as deep.

'Despite Imperial threats, despite the Emperor himself, I have no fear as I take new action. For I am not alone. Beginning today, we stand together as allies.'

The Senator's voice was now echoing between the walls, powerful, determined, full of purpose. 

So there it was.  A Rebel Alliance.  They really did it. 

'I hereby resign from the Senate to fight for you, not from the distant hall of politics but from the front lines. We will not rest until we bring an end to the Empire until we restore our Republic!'

A wave of excitement ran through the hangar bay. People began chattering, cheering; some were even clapping. 

'Are you with me?'

It felt like a battle cry. It felt like an explosion, a lightning bolt, a maelstrom; it felt like all the elements at their most powerful combined together. It felt like hope.

The projection ended, but the people gathered in the hangar bay remained in place. Only now, instead of quiet focus, there was an atmosphere of victory. Someone jumped on top of a crate and started singing something in a language Marla didn't recognise; elsewhere, a group of people initiated something that was a weird mixture of a very uncoordinated dance and a very sincere group hug. Everyone else was just talking; dozens of people chattering simultaneously, in different languages - but you didn't need a protocol droid to figure out the general sentiment.

It was good to have a reason to celebrate, at last. Even if just for that one evening.

Marla was a bit more cautious in her enthusiasm, but she would be lying if she said the triumphant atmosphere hadn't rubbed off on her.

Maybe there is some hope for them after all. For the Galaxy, for the Rebellion, for her.

A wave of warmth began spreading through her body, and she suddenly remembered what the speech had interrupted. But for some inexplicable reason, she no longer felt the awkwardness or shame that had been so overwhelming mere minutes ago. She didn't quite know what it was, but something about that experience, about the shared enthusiasm and about Cassian's warm body next to hers - something about all that made her believe in the impossible for just a short moment. And for that moment, she let herself forget about all of her fear.

And so, freshly stripped of everything that had been weighing down on her before, she rested her head on his shoulder. Slowly, hesitantly, but with a determination known only to those who realise how fleeting this kind of clarity can be.

As her temple made contact with Cassian's shoulder, she heard the slightest hitch in his breath, but he immediately relaxed back again. And then, he tilted his own head to rest against hers, and she could swear she felt his lips gently brush over her hair.

Neither dared to move or say anything, afraid to destroy the sacredness of that moment. They sat quietly, away from the joyous cheering and singing, entangled in a small celebration of their own.

And even if it were just an illusion created by a perfect conjunction of unrelated elements, even if tomorrow she would wake up troubled by the same doubts, and a cruel reality check set them apart again - they would always have this moment to cherish, that moment when they felt unstoppable and fearless and  whole  again.

Maker, she felt like she could take the whole Empire on by herself. What chance did a Galaxy full of darkness stand against the light she was now carrying in her chest?

'I really hope this works out,' Cassian's quiet voice rang in her ear, the air vibrating and tickling her forehead.

She didn't know if he was talking about the alliance or… something completely different. But it didn't matter. Or maybe it did, but she didn't have to think about it now.

She didn't need certainty, she needed... this. Precisely as it was at that moment. With his head leaning against hers, a gentle buzz in her head and the promise of a galaxy that could hope again.

[freebooter4ever]

unrelated to the stick but have you seen cooking with geno?

Haaaaaaaaaaaa. I have :) i mean...what self respecting geno fangirl hasnt? If im honest i think it was the first thing with him that i watched, but i was not paying attention to him at all at all then. Aside from noticing that Fuck He's Exactly My Type If I Ever Had One and being very annoyed by it. My ADHD research spiral in the summer of 2022 went something like this: ra*ngers -> pana*rin -> russ*an red w*ngs -> larion*ov...and then i side tracked over to alyonka's mental health/ E*D*O videos, and then her podcast which also interviewd several hockey players including her brother (which are really interesting btw)...tldr i actually watched that video more curious about alyonka than geno, cause in her more current stuff she talks a lot about those early 2000's days and what it was like working in the league as a woman. Unfortunately for geno at that point the only thing i knew about him was that he was on the penguins and that he said some shit in one interview about bread, and i had already decided based on that and his instgrm that he looked like an asshole. I cannot find that interview quote about breadman, for all i know it could have all been made up, but it reaaaaally made me dislike him. So the first time i watched the video i was doing my best to ignore geno and pretend like he wasnt radiating attractiveness. My one conclusion about that video and a few other old pens videos with alyonka (and not geno but other players) i watched was that i was surprised how much more informal things used to be. She felt very casual and more like a friend to the players than the more professional style interviews i have seen while watching this stuff live now.

And if none of that research spiral makes sense just be grateful you dont have ADHD.

ANYWAY then lucky for geno he features in my favorite hockey photo ever - that one of him sitting on the boards with the snow and baby blue jersey. So i had to draw that photo, and then i started paying more attention to him that season, and watched that dan and sushi interview, and realized shit i might have been wrong about this guy. And maybe my change of heart only has a little to do with his Very Pretty Eyes.

And moooooonths (a year?) later i finally rewatched the cooking with geno video and had to basically admit that my initial gut instinct of Oh Shit He's Hot reaction remained the same. He's a terrible cook, somehow even worse than me which is saying something cause i'm really fucking bad at it myself. But his physicality/personality rather shines in the clip. (i have heard people say he was sexualizing or staring at alyonka??? It doesnt look like that to me, they just seemed very comfortable with one another and maybe a little teasing but im not the best at recognizing flirting etc). Young Geno's got that same confidence/swagger as old(er) geno that in most guys would come across as arrogant but with him it's very quiet and understated. He makes a lot of dumb jokes. Even on my second viewing i still didnt understand the basketball joke. He didn't talk much but there were a lot of shy smiles. He reminded me a lot of my old friend ethan in attitude and height - just like how he kind of awkwardly looms in the background at times, and how all his obvious strength is sort of soft in a gentle way. He also seemed like a guy very willing to listen, which was cute. But -and this might be me projecting. But sometimes when people try to 'teach' me how to cook i play dumb just so i can check out and not use my brain and let them do all the thinking and tell me exactly what i need to do. Its very lazy and i recognize this but sometimes my brain is tired. And i swear geno was maybe doing that to alyonka at times. Like i think his effort in the video was at most 70%. Maybe 50%. It takes one lazy cook to know another one. And i am a very lazy cook.

Sorry anon, ive been cleaning and working all day so you got more than you asked for, basically a character study, whoops.

Oh, also on the second rewatch i realized the weird short grimlin who only appeared to eat the food and then disappeared was tanger. I did NOT recognize him. I still cant really believe thats him.

[meademalove]

I honestly think such a prime example of "because its beth" is when you look at Kerr.

Now let me start by saying I dont dislike Kerr, I dont like her, Im completely indifferent to her. But when I think of some of the things Ive seen from Kerr, I think you can look at how people react that says so much.

Obviously without the ins and outs of the latest racism stuff, Im talking about how she had used hashtags and stuff on old posts that she has now deleted and yet no one makes a fuss on them (and lets be honest, not that much fuss was made on the current racism thing even before we knew what was actually said), yet you have people bringing up those thatcher tweets with Beth that are as old if not older than the hashtags and stuff on Kerrs posts but yet no one really brings them up. And then you add in that Beth gets called racist just because she was asked a leading question and came out with an ignorant at best response but by no means was it "Racism" itself.

I also think that Kerr has shown just as much support for some "questionable" athletes in the past as Beth has but again, no fuss made on that. But not just Kerr in this case, SO many players have shown support/that they are fans of questionable athletes but again, I dont see people making a big deal about that.

Its just SO clear that its a Beth agenda because its so clear that there are plenty of other athletes that have done similar (and some even worse) and yet they dont get half as much shit and if it was years ago then they get the same people bringing up old shit for Beth that say those people clearly arent the same people they were then and theyve grown up. Its just constant contradictions with these people that show its an agenda

Okay, let me get this clear I'm a massive fan of Kerr for Australia, not at all for Chelsea. Having said that, here's my opinion.

I don't like some stuff she says and does. Sometimes, for instance, when she spoke up about someone telling her goals weren't valid, I found that inspiring. She was brilliant.

But some other times, she says and does stuff that would be genuinely questioned if it was anyone else. That's exactly the reason she went ahead and said what she said to that police officer. I don't think I mentioned this, but I stand by the opinion that she should not have said that. He may be an asshole she may not have meant anything and was very drunk, but still, she shouldn't have said it. I know there are sensible people in Australia who think the same way but won't say that publicly because we all love her. This time, she just said her usual arrogant thing, but to the wrong person. She may or may not be punished for it, who knows.

Another thing is, imagine if anyone else did this, the conversation around it would be so different. Now, imagine if Beth said something remotely similar, we'd all be crucified along with her. There is a bias in how fans perceive situations like that and their preconceived notions about players come in to play when they decide how to react to them.

Only a very few can objectively say yeah Kerr is wrong in the policeman incident, and Mead is wrong in the Krygios incident. But one is bigger than the other and let me tell you it's NOT the one that's been discussed on social media every time they want to drag the player, it's the one which has made the player a cult hero.

(I do find it hilarious that both EH and SK don't seem to think one bit before they speak. They're made for each other, no wonder they get along so well).

[someexistite]

hp made the antichrist (rant)

i havent complained about this on here yet, so

HP 14t-bs000 laptop in the same market as the HP Stream laptop, this laptop (which doesnt have a product name for some reason)... fucking sucks. so much.

i used this piece of shit (which im currently typing this on) nearly every day for at least a year, so im comfortable with saying this is the worst computer ive ever used.

for all you tech people out there, here are the specs: HP 14t-bs000 1DN87AV laptop Intel Celeron N3060 @1.60 GHz, 2 cores, 2 threads 4GB DDR3L-1600 PC3L-12800S Non-ECC RAM 32GB eMMC storage Intel HD 400 Graphics 1GB RAM 1366x768 60Hz display Windows 10 Home

for those of you in the know, you might already see the problem(s)

so using this laptop every day was hell imagine being in 2020 and doing school online alas, this computer is all you have what do you do? suffer

this laptop is slow. extremely slow. i can hear the intel celeron (intel celery) in this laptop begging for mercy every time i power it on this processor is worse than one from 17 years ago (10 years in 2017) im not kidding this (2017) celeron n3060 performs worse than the (2007) core 2 duo i found in a $6 pc i got at the thrift store

and it sure as hell feels that way you better have patience and a lot of it half the time i cant tell if its actually doing anything this celery stick of a cpu makes browsing the internet a pain which is a problem because that's what this computer was made to do

[on a slightly unrelated note, the keyboard randomly stopped working while i was typing that]

much like the cpu, the ram also sucks. 4gb is barely enough to run windows 10. it functions, and i appreciate that hp lets you upgrade it up to like 8gb, but its still not good.

the screen. no. ok so, congratulations hp, you somehow invented the worst screen ever. good job. it has god awful viewing angles, and i use "viewing" in jest because you cant see this screen for some reason, hp decided it would be a good idea to have a glossy screen, making this more of a tinted mirror supposedly, this makes for better colors, but that doesnt matter WHEN I CANT SEE THE GOD DAMN SCREEN hp also supposedly made a matte finish screen for this line of laptops, but i cant find a single one so yeah, screen sucks, but it is a very light annoyance compared to the storage

32 GB of storage. Need I say more? 32 GB is nothing. I shit you not, the damn operating system takes up more than 2/3 of the storage. That is unacceptable.

How the fuck do you expect the average person to deal with this? You install one program and Windows is already complaining. The average person sees the low storage notification and runs into the wilderness with their doomsday supplies.

If you want this computer to be usable in any way, you need an SD card or an SSD (we'll get back to that in a minute). I'm sorry, is it too much to ask HP Inc (ranked #63 on the Fortune 500 list) for a laptop that's usable out of the box? It's fucked up that you can sell laptops with that little storage in the modern day. 32GB is already awful, but to only have roughly 10 GB actually usable? You can install a couple apps and download a few files before you're completely out of space. At a certain point, you can't update Windows or even browse the internet until you clear up some storage. Was 64GB too much to ask for? Even that isn't a lot, but it's usable! You can install things without immediately running out of space, a concept HP clearly hasn't heard of.

"Yeah, the laptop sucks, but who gives a shit? It's a bottom-of-the-barrel laptop, what did you expect?" I EXPECT IT TO BE FUCKING USABLE. The average person doesn't know much about computers. They see a low price and immediately bite, not knowing they just opened a pit into hell. They start using it, notice it's extremely slow, learn they can't download shit, give up, and leave it in a closet for 20 years.

I understand that this laptop, $150 to $250 when new, was not expected to be good. I know. I'm just asking for usability. The fact that HP thought it was acceptable to sell this thing is further proof that HP fucking sucks. The very existence of this laptop defies God. This laptop's manufacture infamously lead to the Third Crusade. This laptop is the Antichrist.

ok ok ok yes im being overly dramatic i know but i cannot stress enough how horrible this laptop is to use there are school laptops better than this

in fact I have used at least 2 different school laptops that are better to use than this

Dell Latitude 3190 Intel Pentium Silver N5030 @1.10GHz, 4 cores, 4 threads 8GB DDR4-2400 RAM 128GB eMMC Intel UHD Graphics 605 Windows 10 Education

Comparing this laptop to the HP laptop is like comparing a desk to a rusty pile of nails This Dell laptop is so god damn usable like it has storage! it has ram! it has a processor! if you removed all of the school web filters and whatnot, you'd get a low end (but more than usable!) laptop and they just gave these out! like i said, this hp laptop is worse than a school laptop

another school laptop Dell Chromebook 3110 Intel Celeron N4500 @1.10GHz, 2 cores, 2 threads 4GB LPDDR4-2933 RAM 32GB eMMC ChromeOS

while yes, these are basically the specs of the HP laptop, it doesn't feel that way when they stole the other dell laptop from us and gave us this thing as a consolation prize, I was pissed however, it feels fine, mostly because it's a chromebook chromeos takes up less resources, less space, doesn't need anything fancy plus, i think intel recently improved their celeron processors so that they aren't outperformed by decades-old processors (i dont have a source for this) in any case, it still feels usable

This is not good for HP. In popular culture, school laptops are stereotypically fucking atrocious. Yet, somehow, HP managed to make something worse.

there are computers from 10+ years ago for half the price on ebay that are leagues ahead of this sinful pile of plastic

im sure you can find much better deals than this online

please if you need a laptop and dont care about its specs please dear god dont buy this laptop or similar ones still sold find something on ebay save up a bit more for something better whatever it takes to not get this laptop this laptop has caused me so much fucking frustration so much anxiety i wouldnt wish this laptop on any of my enemies

ok redeeming qualities: it technically functions and its easy to work on which is a good thing because if you actually plan on using this rattly lump of lead and depression, you definitely want to upgrade some things

this laptop comes from a line of better laptops, so luckily theres a lot of easy upgradability for one, all of the screws are easily accessible and the bottom of the laptop comes off relatively easily, plus it has an easily removable battery for two, half of the laptop comes highlighted in blank

see those shiny metal plates on the left side? thats called opportunity for that is not useless space, it is expansion

on the left is mini-SATA, and the right is regular SATA to the average jim, this doesnt mean anything but if you're in the know, you'll know that you can use these for SSDs, HDDs, and optical drives yes, some of these laptops came with actual storage better yet, you can use these!

so i bought the cheapest 256gb ssd that micro center sold, and instantly octupled (8x) the storage capacity (depending on how you count it, i may have nontupled [9x] the storage) and all of a sudden, the laptop is usable!!! still slow as shit, mind you, but i can store files! i can install programs without fear! using the analogy from earlier, its like turning the rusty pile of nails into a small table

I have also upgraded the ram to 8GB it didnt make it much better, but its the thought that counts with this newfound power, im tempted to get the optical drive, an internal fan (because it currently doesnt have one and can get hot, and even a new motherboard with a better processor

ok so In conclusion, this laptop fucking sucks and the fact that HP sold any of them is a testament to God's weakness. However, it can be improved. But it still fucking sucks, fuck you HP.