#but they're from minor branches so i'm counting them

[crystalelemental]

I am poking my head back here, briefly, to explain the reason for the absence. Which will continue. Don't really know how long.

In case anyone was unaware: I live in the US. Things are. Not going so great over here. I'm in a generally progressive state, and it's still bad. Literally like every day is some new bullshit. And I cannot lie to you. I'm not interested in being around Tumblr culture for this one.

It was draining before, but with the severity we're dealing with, I just have exactly no tolerance for it. Getting blasted with post after post after post of "EVERYTHING IS FUCKED AND YOU ARE IN IMMEDIATE DANGER DON'T DO NOTHING ABOUT THIS (shares zero actionable steps or suggestions)" was always annoying, but now it's actively detrimental. My energy is needed elsewhere.

I've been making calls. I've even started drafting letters, which is a lot given how bad writing by hand is for me. I've gone to our city hall meetings, am looking into committees I can join, and have drafted statements to make demanding support for vulnerable groups in our community to present at later meetings. I've even stayed (a little) late at work to talk with colleagues earnestly about the state of things and am trying to build community that way. It is...fucking exhausting. I'm so tired.

But that's not even the end of it. I alluded to the same in posts around the holidays, but there have been Big Personal Things going on, which have taken a tremendous amount of personal time, money, and energy to sustain. It's rewarding, it's necessary, but this combination is exhausting. Also our house almost burned down. We managed to get our electrical upgraded before something went off, but they told us the light flickering was because a cable in the attic was starting to go so badly that a serious enough wind storm would've snapped a cable in a way that would have definitely started a fire with the insulation. So like. Silver lining.

I am going to be generally away for a while. I do not really know if I'll be back for serious. I may stop in to talk via messages, or answer asks and replies to posts. But despite the exhaustion...I feel a lot better about things than I did when I was here in a more serious capacity.

And hey! If you're in the US and feeling broadly powerless, here are some general recommendations:

5 Calls has been immensely helpful for minor action. They give you a list of issues to contact representatives about, will give you a script to follow to speak to the issue. Truth be told, they're more verbose than the calltakers care about, they tend to just want Name, Street Address (if voicemail), City and Zip Code (for all calls), and what your position is on the thing you're calling out. They don't care about your reasons, per se. If I get someone on the line, I never get to the mini speech, and tend to truncate for voicemails. Phones are so busy one of our Senators' DC office can't accept more messages, so I have to call the local branch. Give them short messages to quickly tally where you can.

Democratic Socialists of America is a recommended organization I have not yet joined with, so I can't speak to it in specific terms. The "local" chapter for me is still over an hour from home, and with all else going on, it's just too out of the way to be viable, I have to look more local. But they hold a lot of initiatives to get involved in, and seem pretty easy to contact. I can't vouch for every chapter, but my local one just has a button to fill out a four-question request to meet another member in person to discuss what you'd like to get involved with.

Legitimately, find out when your open to the public town/city hall meetings are. Local community vibes count for a lot, and you can find out a lot about what's going on and where people's concerns are just by attending. Also you get front row seats to insanely fun drama between angry old people who hate each other, it's great. 10/10, would recommend. All I did was look up "[area] town hall meetings" and it came right up. Called their office to confirm what was open to the public and how to schedule making a public comment, and just showed up. I didn't do or say anything the first time, but met some people and have a better sense for where things stand and what I can do from one (1) meeting.

[monster-slut-memoirs]

{{ MINORS DNI -- Monster Fucker Smut }}

US AND THE ELKMAN

SIGNS OF THE SUPERNATURAL

Our first day at the cabin started late—we didn't get to bed until gone midnight—so we laid in until after noon. We had bacon, eggs, and pancakes for breakfast. I frolicked around in just Erron's shirt, and he stole a few feels of my bare ass as I wandered around the kitchen. 

If the week continued like this, it was going to be perfect. We'd gotten "the talk" out of the way on our first night, so it could only be up from here. As I get dressed for the day, I can't help but keep rubbing over my belly daydreamily. I admit, I was still a little unsettled that we might potentially end up using a donor to have our baby, but in time, I'd warm to the idea... Wouldn't I? 

With a scarf wrapped around my neck, I don my winter coat and join Erron in the yard. He's clearing the leaves off of the hot tub cover because we've planned to have a dip tonight after dinner. 

The wind is quite biting this time of year, so I go back inside and make some hot cocoa. On my return, we sit with our legs hanging off the porch, sipping and looking out at the fall-time woods. It's quiet and peaceful out here, miles from anyone, just us and the elements. 

After cocoa, Erron gets on with preparing the hot tub for later, and I go to collect some kindling to stock the firepit—to set the mood for our late-night dip. 

"Honey, don't head too far out. Stay close to the cabin so I can hear you," Erron says, kissing me before he sends me off to my leisurely labour with a light tap off my ass. I have to stay within shouting distance because there's no cell phone service out this far. 

While bending down to gather up a bundle of sticks, a shiver runs up my spine, putting my hair on end. Upright, I scope the proximity... Nothing... So, I brush off the creepy feeling—the feeling I was being watched—it's pretty commonplace to feel that way in the wilderness because you're constantly surrounded by some woodland creature or another, even if they're out of your sight.

Shaking off the creeps, I return to work until I've gathered an armful of sticks. I've circled the cabin grounds, and when on my way back to the front, passing our bedroom window, my blood runs cold, again.

The timber over the window's head is scraped—pale wood from beneath, showing through the gouges, some eight or nine feet above ground level. How could that happen? No trees were close enough to the cabin to thrash the walls and cause that kind of damage. Checking the condition of the rest of the window led my eyes down the cabin wall to the stone skirt. 

Sometimes, even though you instantly know what something is, your mind just can't comprehend it. So, pointlessly, you end up questioning the truth, hoping to escape it. That's what I stand doing; moments, maybe even minutes, pass as I stare at the dried semi-translucent stains that mark the wall—four stream-like spurts surrounded by clearer splatters. What animal could have, or would have, done this? 

Crack!

A branch snapping echoes through the wood, ricocheting off the trees and startles me out of my Disturbia. Forcing what I've just seen to the back of my mind, I march back to Erron. I don't tell him what I've seen; it verges irrational; I'd sound insane.

Later. The water in the hot tub is warm and bubbling. The firepit crackles ablaze, lighting the little clearing at the side of the cabin in cosy orange. Our wine glasses sit on the side, as empty as the bottle that accompanies them.

I'm feeling buzzed and incredibly blissed out as I sit against Erron's chest. Three of his fingers are stuffed inside me, mercilessly stretching my pussy. I've lost count of how many times I've cum; he's been teasing my clit with his other hand to help me along until my whole body spasms against his for the last half hour at least. Encouraging me to moan louder, with filthy words and salacious whispers in my ear. Somehow, his gruff voice and lewd teasing make everything feel that much more thrilling. Being his personal whore pleases us both. 

Erron lifts me effortlessly—I'm weak and limp in his arms—he positions me like a doll over the side of the tub. Guiding my hips toward one of the jets in the side so the water gushes against my already overstimulated and swollen pussy; tickling my clit and making my lips quiver. When I feel the tingling nearing numbness, Erron thrusts his cock into me hard. I yelp at the depth—seven steeley inches, all at once, without warning, sends me reeling. In my ear, he compliments me. Then, he growls, "Your slutty little cunt is squeezing my cock so fucking hard. You're desperate for me to fill you with cum, huh?"

All I can do is moan and cry out as I take my pounding. I feel like I'm melting, my pussy gushing endlessly, relentlessly cumming around Erron's cock as his hips thrust into me like a piston. 

Thrust, thrust, thrust. 

Water pelting into my clit. 

Heat spreading through me, like passionate fire. 

Every nerve in my pelvis set alight. 

My pulse throbbing around my hole. 

Erron's pulse throbbing down his cock, in sync with mine. 

Thrust, thrust, thrust. 

Together, we're reaching ecstasy. 

Me first—I scream out into the darkness—giving into another orgasm. 

The treeline starts to glitter with stars as my vision blurs. On the edge of the clearing, two simmering shapes stand out. Two eery yellow orbs lock onto me. Two eyes staring intrusively into mine as I came undone. 

"Erron!" I pant, spent, my heart pounding from my orgasm and the fear that; "We… We're being watched—"

The last thing I remember is Erron's raucous laughter, and his hot cum fills me up as he releases with an animalistic growl.

[autismprotocol]

Hey, sorry if this is long, but I really like what you guys are doing and have nowhere else to put my theories, so...

Firstly, sorry to be that person, but I actually think you mislabeled the entities for two episodes. Needles reads like an avatar of the slaughter to me. It's like Lietner said, the physical description is less important then the emotional or metaphorical. Needles' thing isn't "look at this scary trick I can do with my flesh body." It's "I am going to cause you intense pain at random by stabbing you with my needles. Please be scared of me :)"

I was also surprised you didn't mark Putting Down Roots as a filth statement. Illness, rotting alive, swarming flies, a deeply unhealthy romantic love. All reads as corruption to me.

Now let's get to my fun crack theory. Episode 7 almost reads to me like the point the powers breached into the new world. Think about it, hilltop road was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of artifacts and "people" (avatars) that map to many different powers (I counted stranger, slaughter, dark, filth, and possibly hunt among the artifacts present). The timeliness doesn't quite match up (we have a statement from the 1800s), but maybe the powers are capable of having retroactively always existed. Or maybe the fan theory that the entities are now the "hungers" that feed on obsession was true until the fears intruded into the world.

Omg thank you so much for the ask I absolutely love over analyzing this goofy lil podcast and i really wanted to have this board be a collaborative and community thing for all of us TMAG/TMAGP fans out there!

starting with the board corrections you pointed out you are absolutely right after reading this I ended up rereading the wiki entries about the Entities because its been a hot second since I've read up on those goobers and I've kinda forgotten how many little nuances that each one has. I had no idea how we missed the clear corruption tie-ins that were occurring in Samuel Webbers journal (Putting Down Roots) especially when you brought up his toxic relationship to his partner.

As with Needles before doing my reread about the fears I just assumed flesh because body modified with needles. but looking into it, sudden piercing needles more cleanly falls into slaughter.

I actually have this ongoing theory originated by my roommate and other blog contributor that the fears might have been scrambled when crossing dimensions. maybe because of this many minor powers have begun to branch out from the main 15 and with that hybrid avatars and entities have been created. With needles I think maybe they fall under the umbrella of slaughter and spiral because of the way they mentally toy with their victims. also could explain why needles has to convince the man on the phone that they're scary because this hybrid power may be new and people have not gotten fearful of it yet.

I'll be making those changes for next weeks board so thank you for pointing them out :D

on to your theory that would make sense especially since this episode (EP 7) is kind of serving as the catalyst for the story to shift into high gear. I think that if the Hilltop charity shop was the entrance point for all of the fears to enter the world it would make complete sense. Hilltop is the one place in the Magnus canon that people have reported traveling to different dimensions. also the date of the incident falls right about the time that Archives started early 2016 so the fears may have also gone back in time to when Jon became the Archivist in TMAs universe (since Jons death is the catalyst that forced them to jump dimensions.) I'm really liking where your theory is heading

also real quick if anyone has more info about the theory that Protocols world lived off of hunger and desire pre the fears appearing I'd love to hear more about that because I've never heard of the until now.

Again thank you so much for the ask I'm so happy you're liking what we're doing here and I hope you continue to share your thoughts and theories with this blog.

-Echo

[queerprayers]

do you have any tips for protestant christians who want to practice advent in a more ritualistic way?

Happy Advent, beloved! I love this question!

Hopefully this isn't too obvious but just in case: Advent wreaths were originally a Lutheran tradition and they're my favorite holiday ritual! I'm in the minority in that my church's Advent color is blue, but many people's are purple and pink. The Wikipedia page lists some different traditions—some people give a meaning to each candle. Generally people will have five and light one for each week of Advent and then one for Christmas. Advent is cut short this year (Advent 4 and Christmas Eve are the same day) but it's still never too late to start participating in a season! One day of mindful Advent is more precious than weeks of half-hearted Advent.

I have blue and gold candle holders, but many places sell Advent-specific candles and holders, or you can just get four or five candles (real or fake) from around the house and arrange them! I haven't gotten around to it yet this year but I like gathering evergreen branches from outside and arranging them in more of a proper wreath, but a fake wreath would work too, or just candles on a cloth or table.

I also saw this 20-minute Advent candle set, where you can light a candle each day and let it burn down while praying/meditating/writing. You could set a timer and do something similar with any type of candle. Candles are a staple of winter holidays for a reason—light and warmth, obviously, and there's something about having a natural source of those things existing in your house when so much of the rest of your life may be artificial. I thank God my house has heating, but I also seek out the ways this earth provides what we need, if we only know where to look.

Some form of counting down to Christmas is a main theme of Advent traditions, and I don't think this is a bad thing at all, although I do see my Advent wreath as more of a fulfillment than a countdown. I always encourage people to take at least a moment for just Advent. We could look at Lent as a countdown to Easter, but we might miss the journey. And after all, Holy Week and Easter is the culmination of our calendar, not Christmas. We are still in the beginning.

My family doesn't usually put up a Christmas tree until around the 23rd, and I don't listen to Christmas carols until Christmas Eve. I don't refuse to participate in secular/cultural Christmas events/traditions before then, but Christmas as religious practice is twelve days for us, starting the 25th. I have time to make room, to prepare. I'm listening to Advent music now, to ground myself in time. I don't say this because I think everyone should necessarily do this (by all means, find room for joy wherever you can), but because an Advent value that I find meaning in is patience. Christmas exists, joy exists, salvation exists—but what happens in the time before those things? What happens if we're not there yet, if we perhaps have to wait our whole lives? We do not know the future, but there are things we can see, and even more things we can trust in. How can we practice hoping for it all?

This year I'm reading Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas (the last gift my grandfather gave me), and it's marking my days in a similar way candles do—connecting me with the world, setting aside time, bringing me back to why I exist the way that I do. There are countless devotional/topical books out there—as well as Watch for the Light, I would recommend Preparing for Christmas by Richard Rohr and Accompanied by Angels: Poems of the Incarnation by Luci Shaw (which can double as a Lenten/Easter book as well). I'm also looking forward to reading in future years Celtic Advent by David Cole and WinterSong by Madeleine L'Engle & Luci Shaw.

If you don't usually attend worship services, Advent is a lovely time to start—it's the new year, after all! My city has a caroling night downtown, and you could look for similar events in your community. You could also start new worship traditions—my uncle hosts a Christmas carol singing circle every year, and his apartment is squished full of happy people, some Christian and some not, singing until the neighbors complain.

Speaking of the new year, that's what this is for many of us, and one way we can acknowledge that is by thinking about the past year and/or the year to come. What was last Advent like for you? Where are you now? Why are you seeking out more ritual this year? Are there future seasons in the church year that you want to further observe? What joy and grief and community do you see on the road ahead of you? What can you not even begin to imagine? Advent can be a beginning for all of it, if you let it. And Advent is the ultimate time to contemplate the past and the future—as we remember Jesus coming two thousand years ago, as we experience him every day, and as we look to a second coming that none of us understand but can occasionally stand to ponder.

There are the little things, too—writing Christmas cards is very ritualistic for me, as well as making gifts, and preparing for Christmas in a material way, especially if it's for others, can be a lovely ritual! Volunteering, preparing a home, creating, writing, taking a walk--anything, really, can be a ritual if we do it purposely. We don't always have to add something to our life—we can live something we already live in a new way.

And then there's the other kind of practice: emptying. We talk about this most when we encounter Lent, but I think there's a place for it here, too (and always). I don't mean abandon our responsibilities/hobbies/relationships, but most of us have too much. It is a blessing to have, but it can also be a blessing to let go. Many of us overwork ourselves during December, at work, at school, financially, socially, around the house. I've learned to look at busy-ness as a gift, but I also work to not fill up my life until there's no room for the season. There are people who fast during Advent, but there are other ways to make space in our lives to fill up with God, and Advent encourages us to spend time in that space. God is coming, a thief in the night, a late guest, an overlooked baby. Do you have room? Do you still have the attention span and energy? Will you even notice?

Christmas is many things to many people, and preparing for it is similarly diverse. I'm carrying a lot of grief with me this year, from both family and world tragedy. I know a lot of people who feel pressured to be happy during the holidays, and that breaks my heart—and it also makes me wonder how much having a ritualistic Advent since I was a kid has helped me avoid that. Happiness was never a value my family held—it was beautiful, but not inherently holy. Emotions come and go. Love exists infinitely, and patience and hope can be practiced and lived out regardless.

There are so many traditions, especially in the US, that leave people hungering for ritual and material practice—I've found a lot of physicality in Lutheranism, similar to my Catholic family, but I know there are those who have never really had that. When we seek ritual, it's often because there's something (or many things) in our practice either growing up or currently that we don't have and seek—whether that's the sensory experiences of incense and stained glass, the daily habits of rosary or novena, the liturgical practice of seasons and services, choral and hymn-singing, contemporary music, contemplation, academia, casualness, relatability, mystery, social justice, huge gatherings, tiny meetings, or any of the other Christian experiences that usually traditions don't or can't have all at once. When we seek ritual, we seek what we don't have, but often find what we already have as well. So many things are rituals that we take for granted because we've always had them or gotten used them. Seek new rituals, and seek what is already in your life that you can decide to do. Take your traditions, and find the traditions you didn't receive but hunger for, and make a life. You have time—Advent happens every year, and as far as we know and can hope, we will have many more Advents.

Ultimately, ritual is doing it all on purpose. It's finding rhythm. So much of our lives are accidental, and this can be beautiful and holy, but you have come seeking the things we invite. And yet even things that happen to us can become purposeful, as Mary teaches us: "Let it be with me according to your word." Whether she had a choice is sometimes discussed, but to me often the more relevant question is how she dealt with what came her way. Ritual is taking what we are given and doing it on purpose, and Advent gives us a long tradition, passed down through generations, of active waiting. We have no choice but to wait for the future, but today we will do it with our eyes open. Act as if the world is going to turn upside down—and you will notice it is, all the time.

In Watch for the Light, Henri Nouwen writes, "A waiting person is a patient person. The word patience means the willingness to stay where we are and live the situation out to the full in the belief that something hidden there will manifest itself to us. Impatient people are always expecting the real thing to happen somewhere else and therefore want to go elsewhere. The moment is empty. But patient people dare to stay where they are. Patient living means to live actively in the present and wait there. Waiting, then, is not passive. It involves nurturing the moment, as a mother nurtures the child that is growing in her."

Whatever rituals you invite in or find that you already have, however you nurture the moments that make up this season, I pray they make room in your heart for what God can bring. As Rilke tells us (in teaching how to approach art, but what else are the mysteries of this season?), "Everything is gestation and then bringing forth. To let each impression and each germ of a feeling come to completion wholly in itself, in the dark, in the inexpressible, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one's own intelligence, and await with deep humility and patience the birth-hour of a new clarity."

<3 Johanna

[exo-raskreia]

hey again, thanks for replying to my previous ask! I have another ask, if you think AiTani (Aizen x Tanisha) have parallels with Ulquihime (Ulquiorra x Orihime?) What do you think are the similarities between the ships?

So in the TCACLOM (the captive and captor's liberation) fan made novel (it's a continuation of post-canon CFYOW events) there is this character named Tanisha Chōdhori, she is appointed the warden of muken and all, she's this stoic and almost nearly emotionless character and then she meets Aizen who she's guarding in Muken obviously and while she guards him, Aizen makes her so infuriated with his words about her true desires and how she desires a path free from soul society that she started feeling emotion in a long time, and she realized that she could openly explore these new emotions if she has Aizen with her so she breaks him out of muken for his companionship while he gets liberation and freedom from imprisonment. For context: Soul Society forced Tanisha as a young girl into this emotionally detached mindset that if she acts the way they want, she'll be a respected member of the Gotei 13 and if she acts in any other way, she'd be criticized for not meeting the standards of how a professional shinigami should be. (The soul society has a bias against Tanisha because of her grandfather named Saphir who ruled the chōdhori clan as the 20th head. The chōdhori clan was a minor clan ruled by the Shiba which was their parent family, so they're basically related ig. The 20th head of the chōdhori clan had attempted to assassinate Kaien Shiba (Before Kaien's Actual Death) to take over the branch of the Shiba clan that Kaien ruled, and by ruling this branch, he could sabotage the other branches of the Shiba Clan but was caught by Ukitake and executed while the rest of the chōdhori clan was exiled to the poorest district of rukongai to repent in place of the 20th head's crime. Tanisha's father named Raiten had obviously escaped Soul Society to the Human World with another elderly chōdhori who was also a Vice Kidō Chief that managed to open the Senkaimon for him, and that's how Raiten started a new life and eventually had Tanisha.) Tanisha has been severely misunderstood for her family's reputation and this damaged the image the other shinigami would have of her, so they became more expectant of her to follow their standards so she can at least fit in with the crowd. Tanisha only developed a strong bond and relationship with Aizen when she became his warden as he challenged her rigid belief that she had no capacity for any other desire besides serving soul society, basically Aizen helped her see a new world and that is why she liberated him from Muken. Tanisha broke Aizen out of Muken if he'd marry her in exchange for liberation, because he's the only one to show her a new world and a new trajectory that no one else has shown her before, and she would explore that path with Aizen).

Oh btw, u got great taste in ships. I love Ichiruki.

I don't have any interest in the Bleach novels (retcons & more nonsense) but this fan novel doesn't sound too bad. Based on what you said, it does sound like this AiTani ship has some similarities with UlquiHime. The girl sounds similar to Ulquiorra in the stoicism & stuff, & both became curious & intrigued by their captive. Aizen was being a manipulator but Ori was just showing her heart to Ulquiorra. I'm surprised Tanisha asked for marriage but I guess Aizen will do whatever it takes to get free, lol. Idk if the novel implies if he will develop any feelings for Tanisha, but I think that Ulquiorra would have definitely developed them for Ori had he lived (or maybe he kind of did?).

Anyway, so yeah, I can see some parallels there. Maybe the writer is an UH fan? Lol.

And oh, lol, thanks. IchiRuki FTW fr. Kubo fumbled big time. None of my main Bleach ships are canon (formerly established canon ships like ByaHisa don't count, for example 🤷‍♀️), and yet are still better than the endgame ones 🤣.

[gafellique]

So I've been really into this visual novel, Scarlet Hollow, for a minute now. The devs are a husband and wife team who are better known for their more recent indie darling, Slay the Princess. Scarlet Hollow is kind of the red headed step child with fans though. People are hesitant to play it because it is steam open access because it is not yet complete. Which is fair - so many cool indie projects go unfinished and it sucks to get invested just to never get a complete story.

However, I fail to see the difference between watching a new TV show that could be canceled at the whims of its network versus an indie project that your support can personally help keep afloat. It's genuinely puzzling how many people in steam discussions get mad about the game not updating fast enough (ten dollars, one time entry fee that gets you every new chapter for free btw) when the devs have been transparent about their update schedule and what they're working on, super consistently, for years.

It's got like 500k worth of words, and lots of branching choices that make replay value crazy high. I still haven't gotten all the scenes possible in the chapters that are currently available (four out of a planned seven) and on my last playthrough discovered a particularly nasty ending to the most recent chapter that I've never seen anyone talk about on here or Reddit.

For better or worse, most of the in depth relationship mechanics are completely hidden from the player. While this allows for a more genuine roleplaying experience, especially for a first play through, it does make it a bit harder when you're replaying with goals in mind. It's an incredible amount of work under the hood that results in contextual relationships, and the amount of choices allowed to the player are staggering.

Whatever game you've played that is narrative focused and prioritizes choice mechanics is probably NOTHING compared to Scarlet Hollow's ability to let the player choose the direction of events, minor and major.

That's not even starting on the art assets. If you've played a visual novel before, there are typically three key assets: Sprites for general dialogue, environments to establish settings, and CGs for special moments that get illustrated out. Often these are important moments like romance, or action.

Scarlet Hollow uses so many unique sprites and backgrounds it's wild. Your general sprites are ofc the traditional 3/4ths view of a character facing the player, but often the sprites are positioned in an environment like a CG, only for you to realize they're sprites when they move closer or further away and interact with their environment. It's effective and illustrative in a way I wish more VNs embraced, but also means a shit ton more art assets to make, as well as up filesize of the game.

I haven't even touched on the story or characters, Jesus. Another time.

Well I guess this is a long-winded way to say if you're into visual novels I highly recommend Scarlet Hollow by Black Tabby Games lol. The first chapter is free on steam last I checked, and I do think it's a bit of a slow burn but ultimately an intriguing gothic horror I'm excited to see truly ramp up and play out. The next chapter will probably release in 2025 and is projected to almost double the word count of the entire game so far iirc. Keeping all those narrative choices in hand is NOT easy work. Oh, and the devs keep adding more scenes to earlier chapters. Fucking wild. I admire them immensely. They're so dedicated to the project and it's incredible to see what they keep coming out with.

[ocprompts]

pardon my language but FUCK i wish i found this blog earlier. these are the minor details that i NEED for my ocs. i see your inbox is open to ranting so I'm going to take the chance to talk if that's okay.

now this alone may out myself to my friends on the off chance that they find this blog and that this is posted but i have over 500 ocs and counting because my brain wont stop generating new characters. id love to make a piece that includes ALL of them somehow but i really don't think my tablet or my sanity can handle doing that but its a nice thought

anyway out of those 500 only a good handful have some kind of storyline to them and somehow the one with the most normal life managed to become a fan (friends) favorite. he's a "short" white British guy who didn't realize he was bi until he hit college and it only happened bc he started to like his dormmate. he used to be ginger and my friends called him a leprechaun. the worst that happened to him is that he's had a shitty love life. even so i love him and my friend's oc aka his former dormmate aka his current bf. i draw them together all the time bc i think their dynamic is great and ngl my friend's oc is very pretty. like. very. but that's a box to unpack later

another oc i cherish is my first dnd oc which I'm not too worried about sharing bc I'm 95% sure the people I'm worried about finding this oc in particular don't use tumblr or at least arent on this side of tumblr. anyway she's a high elf wizard and shes so COOL even if her appearance is so different compared to the standard high elf. i gave her bright blue hair and bright green eyes when i was like 8 and I've kept them like that (but made the colors much duller). she has a large scar that branches out from the middle of her back to look like lightning bc she did a witch bolt on like 3 health and killed the boss and I'm still not over that and i dont care that that scar doesn't make much sense. her best friends are a halfling who thinks nearly getting killed every adventure is fun and a goblin the halfling and her met on their first adventure together. the halfling makes fun of the goblin 70% of the time but its okay bc they're all friends who work under a magic school and its great

like i said i have 500+ more but i think these are some highlights. honorable mentions include a girl who was arrested by her own gf and then broke out with her friends' help, a superhero oc i made when i was like 6 or 7 that has fire wings and her dad was originally manray from Spongebob somehow, a werewolf lady who is a walking red flag, a guy (gender neutral) who got high once and began being followed around by a demon right after it kicked in, and all of the ocs i made on roblox.

thank you sm if you read this I'm sorry this went on for so long i just cant be quiet about my own characters

no need to apologize EVER, if i didn't want people to ramble in my inbox, i'd close it!

[sooshii]

Nice to meet you!

I'm new to blog posting and social media in general (I know - What kind of rock have you been living under, Sooshii???) During my research going down all sorts of rabbits holes on where to interact with other fic-writers, I came across tumblr. Now me being the shy sushi roll that I am, I internally screamed for a good few days, weeks, months before working up the courage to finally get this ball rolling.

In case you can't tell, I'm a shy bean. I'm also not a minor, but I won't divulge my age - please respect ♡ The internet is a scary place after all!

So with all that said, a bit about myself! :)

Pronouns:

she/her

Fandoms:

Currently writing: FFVII - multi relationship oc AU fandom Reading: Hazbin Hotel, MHA, DAI, FFXIV, Avatar, One Piece, HP, AOT, JJK, multiple Villainess ones to list, and a couple Trails ones. I'm always searching for new ones to obsess over hueeeee And I read too many pairings to list...

Interests/Hobbies:

Reading! I read too many books and fandoms to count. My current fixation is all things FFVII but other fandoms I enjoy are listed above - however the rest of the list is way too long to toss on here so take what is listed as a "this is only a few". And my ships! Oh my ships... Vary from all ranges of characters ahhh I'm such a simp especially for the bad guys huuuueeee :'D

Writing! I write too! I recently started rewriting my first AU fic from a few years back. I'm hoping as I get more confident in myself, I can even branch out to other stories. I'll probably start posting little updates here every now and then when chapters get posted ^_^ My AO3 if you wanted to check my stuff out :) There's too many pairings, lore, world building, angst, fluff, and character tormenting ideas I have floating around in my head to count <o> Yes, I love to make my characters suffer. I'm a bit of a sadist that way -cackles- :3

Drawing! I draw and sketch a lot too. Someday soon you'll see a few of my little doodles floating around... when I get the courage to post them for the world to see. Shy bean, remember? :p

Cats! I own the sweetest little voidbean ever. She is my pride and joy. I absolutely love and adore black cats! Other cats are adorable too, but black cats are the light in my deep, dark, evil little soul mwahaha -ahem- I mean they're super cute :)

Anyways, please drop by, say hell, shoot me a polite message to chat, request a silly doodle - whatever you'd like within reason!

It's amazing to meet you and I hope to see you around!

[westerosiladies]

House of Minor Ladies Week

Day 6 - The Reach or Islanders: Margaery's ladies in waiting

[pedgito]

Hiii!!! You are so talented I love the way you write, I seriously could read your fics for days. Was hoping I could request something with Eddie where like him and reader have been friends for a long time but recently there’s all this ~tension~ and then the reader catches Eddie touching himself and he thinks he’s alone so he’s moaning her name and all bets are off 🫣🫣 (this is pure filth I’m sorry)

author’s note: i'm sorry to whoever sent this that it took so long, but i finally had the surge of motivation to write it and hope it isn't too bad, so enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), accidental voyeurism turned non-accidental, masturbation (male), leaded orgasm/orgasm denial, established friendship, they're both so sexually frustrated with each other, this also take place is the woods so it's technically open to the public? but no one's around, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 2.5k

Eddie’s fist hits the table in frustration, chipped wood flying up in protest, the dilapidated picnic table near its last leg on this earth—it was a wonder it could still hold that weight of someone without stalling in half. Eddie sighs heavily, climbing up the seat to plop himself on top, hands moving to rest behind him, helping him stay upright but reclined enough to allow him to relax. 

He couldn’t fucking stand it anymore; the sight of you. 

It seemed arbitrary and petty, but it was becoming a problem. You’d found just about every possible way to get under his skin, pressing all the right buttons to set him off. It hadn’t always been that way either, only recently—one long night at Hellfire, a heated argument that had nothing to do with the actual game and ended up cutting the campaign short. Eddie bid everyone a clipped and dismissive wave that night, shooing them off in annoyance. 

You’ve always been friends, that hadn’t changed, but it didn’t take long for him to notice the small changes; switching up your outfits for something a little more risque, openly flirting with others in front of him—which shouldn’t bother him, but it definitely does. He hates when you ask him for advice, not that he would be much help, but because he doesn’t want to give you semblance of an idea that you should go off and wrap yourself up with someone—not with how desperately he wanted to be with you—he wasn’t sure he’d ever find the courage to tell you that, though. 

Anyways, the night before was what finally set him off—tired of your antics and comments, the subtle, teasing touches you’d leave against his skin in passing—normally you’d sit across from him, several feet away, but you switched with Dustin that night, perched right beside him.

Eddie sat back in his felt throne, fingers talking against the arm of the chair. You knock his foot gently, sending him a warm smile, eyes creasing at the corners. The one he returns is forced, bubbling with annoyance. He was a fuse set to blow and he surely did.

To you, it didn’t make sense. Eddie spent so much time on his music, Hellfire, and everything else that seemed more interesting than you—and sure, it was; but your friendship felt like it had been shifted to the back burner lately. 

It’s part of the reason why you started to branch out, knowing that your advances would never be noticed—Eddie too wrapped up in his own problems that it seemed pointless; he had a lot to deal with and you were the last thing on his mind, or so you thought. 

You both were running in circles when all you needed to do was talk—you were two incredibly stubborn individuals.

He thinks about lighting up the joint tucked behind his ear, wondering if it will ease the anxiety he felt, it still didn’t feel like enough. His legs widen slightly, feet planted on the bench of the table. He half hesitates on the idea of rubbing one out, knowing that it could satiate the running thoughts in his brain if he just tried; allow the cloudy haze of pleasure to wash over him.

Fuck it—no one ever comes out here, anyways. It wasn’t the first time and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

He palms himself over the front of his jeans lightly, soft dick hardening at the touch, almost to full mast after a few long drags of his open hand, head hanging back slightly as he breathed out. 

All he had to do was picture you and he was done for. You were the only thing he pictured anymore, the cheesy porno mags never enough anymore—not after he got caught in your trap, stuck on the idea of you. 

He always pictured you underneath him, sometimes bound by your hands, cuffs pulled tight to keep you from moving, moans loud and desperate as he pounded into you, almost relentless—but sometimes it was slow, and he wondered how you hands would feel wondering his body, allowing you to discover new things about him that you were previously oblivious to; how he liked to be touch or what kinds of noises he made when your hand came to wrap around his dick.

It was all a sick fantasy.

˚ · • . ° .

You didn’t normally come out to Eddie’s spot that often, knowing how he liked to keep the secrecy to his customers and leave prying eyes out of the equation—he didn’t need to end up in prison before graduating. Wayne would surely murder him. 

But, you felt guilty, wanting the pointless arguing and fights to be done—you just wanted your friend back, knowing that was all he’d ever be. You could settle for that, having Eddie in any sense was all that mattered to you.

The wet leaves are like mush underneath your steps, forming around and sticking to your shoes—you figure it’s smarter to be quiet than loud, knowing that there were still students a half a mile away, sure to hear the scream that Eddie would let out if you ran up on him—when you’re finally through the thick brush of trees and stray branches, you spot him.

He’s relaxed, back to you, probably fiddling with the zipper of his denim jacket or twisting at the frayed lace of his shoe—Eddie enjoyed being alone, as much as he surrounded himself with friends at school. 

You hear a small noise, wondering if he’s talking to himself—your steps are timid, almost questioning your own movements as you grow closer. His head falls back, a mess of curls dangling, begging to be tugged at. 

And then he moans—steady and unashamed, but then you hear your name, and that definitely isn’t a trick. You heard it, you saw the way his lips curled around the word. He shifts further and you can see the way he’s tugging at himself, bare dick in his hands, caught in small wordless gasp as his thumb swipes against the underside of his cock, dragging slowly over the tip. 

You gasp involuntarily, hand clasping over your mouth in shock. Eddie scrambled at the noise, fear of being caught finally coming true, his heart palpated in panic, the tinge of pain evident as he turned to look behind him, dark eyes falling on you.

Of course—out of everyone, it had to be you. 

“Fuck—“ He sounds wrecked, it should turn you on as much as it does, legs clenching together slightly, “what the hell are you doing out here?”

His words come out like venom, clenched teeth and tense jaw. He was still upset, clearly. This was a mistake. You stutter for a response, still trying to process what was happening.

Eddie hadn’t even made much of an attempt to move, hand barely covering himself, not a single try at making himself decent—he’s just staring, waiting for an answer.

“I—I came to apologize,” You offer weakly, “But, I mean—clearly you aren’t mad anymore—“

He’d said your name, you think. You weren’t hallucinating.

“So, what, you like sneaking up on people now?”

Your brows furrow in annoyance, “What? No. You’re the one jerking off in the middle of the fucking woods—you want to talk about that?”

Eddie pulls back at your words, watching you as you take several steps near him, far too close for comfort, not with his dick still heavy in his hands.

“Needed to let off some steam,” He offers weakly, trying to seem dismissive, “how much did you see?”

All of it.

“Enough,” You tell him, eyes glancing toward where his hands covered himself, wondering why you were the name that left his mouth as he felt himself up, the boldness overtakes you, the chance to tease him even further was too good of an opportunity to pass up, “you do that often?”

“What?”

“Think about me?” You laugh softly at the idea, but Eddie doesn’t appreciate it.

It wasn’t a joke to him.

“You askin’ me to be honest with you?”

You nod confidently, arms crossed over your chest. 

“All the time.” He admits—and it feels good to admit that, tired of forcing it down all the time.

You don’t know what to say, eyes caught between his heated gaze and the hands covering his noticeable hard dick, still having not let up—if anything, it was worse.

“Well—are you just gonna keep standing there?” Eddie asks with an amused look, the edge of his mouth pulling upwards in a smirk. “Or, do you wanna help?”

“What?”

“That’s why you’re still standing there, isn’t it?”

And it was a good fucking question—but, you knew exactly why. As shameful as it felt, you wanted him to continue; you wanted to watch him fall apart to the idea of you, your name falling from his lips one more time. 

“That’s what I thought,” Eddie chides, taking note of the way your eyes connect with his, a silent confirmation that you wanted this just as badly as he did, “come here.”

He nods to the area next time and your feet move faster than you can process, nearly scrambling to his side. 

“You just wanna watch?” He asks softly, “Or?”

Touch me—he can’t bring himself to say the words, afraid that he might be dreaming this. 

“Can I?” You ask timidly, hand coming up to rest against his inner thigh, his hands rubbing against his stiff erection.

He nods furiously, moving his own hands to allow yours to take over—he’s warm and heavy in your hands, your fingers wrapping around the width of him and pulling a few times.

You’ve only done this a few times, still, it felt odd. You weren’t sure what he liked or what he wanted, he wasn’t very vocal—at the moment, at least. 

“Like this,” He instructs, realizing your hesitation. His large hand wraps around your own, setting a steady, tight pace against his cock, tugging at the length of his dick in earnest. He sighs outwardly, head falling back once again. His chest heaves, neck reddening in a deep blush, “fuck—yeah, that’s it.”

Selfishly, you really wanted to just watch—watch him fall apart by his own doing, like he originally planned to. He notices the perplexed look on your face, so mesmerized by his hand working against your own, joints flexing underneath the skin. 

“What’s wrong?” He forced out, eyes half lidded as he looked over at you. “Do you want to stop?”

You shake your head honestly, letting the words fall from your lips quietly, “I—I do wanna watch you.”

“Like, you wanna watch me jerk off?” The absurdity of the question has him chuckling into his fist, allowing you to pull your own hand away. “Really?”

He wasn’t judging—definitely not. He was the last person on earth to ever think about doing that. 

“Yeah,” You say timidly, “Just…act like I'm not here, you know?”

“I don’t think that’s possible, sweetheart.” He says endearingly, hands returning to his own dick instinctively, begging to ease that ache. “But, I’ll try.” 

You watch eagerly, enraptured at how easily he falls back into a rhythm, licking at the palm of his hand to allow for an easy glide of his hand, the friction almost overwhelming as he continues his movements, eyes falling shut.

“Fuck—“ He curses, a small grunt slipping out in weakness, eyes squeezing shut as he squeezes harder, tugging himself at a quick, hurried pace—allowing himself to reach the edge, nearly, before squeezing the base of himself, cutting the feeling short, “—sorry, this is kinda new to me.”

“What?”

“Being watched,” He points out, eyes opening to connect with yours. It has his dick twitching in his hands, sending a pulse straight to your cunt, “it’s not bad, though.”

If you weren't so ashamed for watching, you’d join him—but, this was for him; a punishment, even, for being so difficult with you all the time. 

“Wanna try something?” Eddie asks curiously, voice strained. 

You nod nervously, wondering where his wild brain was attempting to take this.

“Tell me when to stop and I will, it doesn't matter if I’m about to come or not.” He instructs, “I’ll listen to you.”

“Oh—okay,” You answered hesitantly, watching as he continued at a slow place, listening for your voice, “sped up—a little.”

He laughs softly, the swift tugs at his dick as he squeezes gently at the head forcing desperate noises to fall from his mouth, something you thought you’d never have the chance to hear.

It’s glorious. 

After a while, you perk up, “Faster,” You say quietly, and he obeys immediately, working himself over quickly, his chest rising and falling rapidly, shirt rising up to show the soft, smooth expanse of his lower stomach and the soft patch of hair that led to his groin—you want to reach out and touch him, it’s almost instinctual. Eddie whines on a particular flick of his wrist, mouth open in a deep groan as he almost allows himself that release, only for you to stop him dead in his tracks again, “Stop.” Your voice is steady, surprising both of you.

Eddie laughs in anguish, “I knew you’d be into this,” He teases, his hooded gaze catching your own, “dunno how much longer I can listen, though—really wanna come, sweetheart.”

You reach forward to squeeze gently at his arm, indulging in the earlier thought of wanting to touch him—there was no time like now, letting your hand slide over the expanse of his stomach, feeling the muscle flex against your hand. He watched carefully, eyes stuck on the movement of your hand.

It’s your touch that sets him off, the soft lilt of your voice as you whisper into his ear, “Then come.” You tell him.

And he does, too quickly, tugging at his dick until he’s spilling over his hand and against his stomach, and in turn, your own hand, as you couldn’t be bothered to move—too mesmerized by his face as he reaches his release. His teeth grit together, eyes struggling to stay open as his orgasm hits him hard and intense, worse than he’s ever felt before. He moans out, nearly convulsing at the peak of it all, panting deeply on the descent back down, laughing exasperatingly. 

“Jesus Christ,” He sighs tiredly, motioning to the handkerchief in his back pocket, “you mind?”

You laugh quietly, pulling at the small square of material stuffed in his back pocket to hand over, letting him carefully clean up the mess that covered your fingers—a little too lovingly, lingering on the casual touches of his fingers dragging against your own—you weren’t sure why that was what felt the most intimate out of all this. 

“So, are you still mad at me?” He asks curiously, knowing the perfect remedy to breaking the tension. “Because if you are, this is pretty awkward.”

“Depends.” You respond teasingly.

“On?”

“If we get to do that again.”

Eddie smiles wide, allowing himself to look somewhat presentable again, tugging at his zipper as he buttoned his pants back up. “You free this weekend then?”

You nod furiously.

“Good,” His smile turns devilish, like he’s on to something, “You're next.”

[cozy-mp3]

messy girl

ellie x female!reader

you and ellie find a grove of peach trees on your patrol. more importantly, you get fingered.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: smut, vaginal fingering (reader receiving), dom/sub undertones but they're very much undertones, dirty talk? maybe?, you're very in love, ellie calls you honey, ellie also has a happy trail because i say so.

a/n: i haven't written fanfic in a Very long time pls be nice lol. not beta read, all the terrible punctuation choices and bad pacing are still here for your viewing pleasure. lowercase intended bc i'm lazy. feedback is appreciated i'm a bit of a slut for praise.

MINORS AND MEN DO NOT INTERACT OR I'LL CRY

it's the middle of july when you spot it; a cluster of fruit trees off the road on a lesser traversed patrol route. the branches are bowing with the weight of the fruit; big, plump, juicy peaches the size of two fists pressed together. you can't help the flutter of excitement in your stomach as you veer off the road, ignoring ellie’s confused shout of your name. fruit, fresh fruit, when was the last time you’d had that? you can almost taste the flesh on your tongue and the juice in your mouth already.

“hey, slow down,” ellie calls, steering shimmer to follow you into the trees, “what is it?” she asks before she spots the trees herself, digging her heel into shimmer’s side so they falls into step with your own horse.

“peaches, el,” you gush, turning to her with a wide smile, “c’mon, we’ve got to try them before we bring them back, poison control.” you tell her, your smile turning slightly conspiratorial as she laughs.

once you reach the grove you dismount, boots hitting the soft grass with a thud. it even smells less stale here, a light breeze carrying the smell of grass and sunbaked dirt, no stench of blood or the decaying flesh of the infected. you reach up and pick two fruits from the closest tree before you turn back to ellie, they’re soft and heavy in your palm and you can already smell the perfume of them before the skins been broken. it makes your mouth water.

“for you, my lady,” you smile, passing her one of the peaches and watching as her fingers curl around it. her knuckles are scabbed over, as they always seem to be and her nails could use a trim, but her skin is tanned from time spent in the sun and the way her tattoo curves from her forearm towards her palm makes you squirm the way it always does.

“thank you, darling,” she replies with the same mock formality, oblivious to your continued staring at her hands as she tosses the fruit between her palms, looking up at the trees, “there’s no way we can bring all these back to jackson ourselves,” she muses aloud, “we’ll definitely have to come back tomorrow with a group, shouldn’t be too hard to persuade people though.”

she stops talking to take a bite of the fruit, the juice spilling out of her mouth and over her jaw as she groans at the taste. you’re stood entranced as you watch her; the furrow in her brow as she assess the trees, the shifting of her jaw as she chews, the juice of the peach making a slow path down her fingers towards her palm. the way her body moves beneath her light summer clothes as she turns back towards you only to let out a short laugh at the look on your face.

“What’s got you so distracted, honey?” she asks, familiar cocky smirk already firmly etched onto her features as she ambles over to you, “you’ve ruined that poor peach,” she chuckles, nodding down at your hands. looking down you realize that much to your embarrassment, you’d dug your fingers into the ripe flesh of the fruit, your own fingers covered in sticky sweet juice.

“ellie,” you whine, face heating as you loosen your grip, the fruit falling to the ground with a dull thump, “i wasn’t distracted,” you huff petulantly, breaking eye contact with her to reach into your pocket for a cloth to clean your hands with, glad that you had remembered to pack one this morning.

“oh, you were totally distracted,” ellie laughs, taking an obnoxious bite of her peach and smirking over at you, “it’s ok though, honey, i like it when you stare at me,” she hums, stepping closer to you, only stopping when the toes of her battered sneakers are touching the toes of your boots, “here, let me.” she says softly, holding the peach in her mouth so she can take your hands into hers.

she wipes away the sticky juice gently, taking time to clean between each of your fingers with her brows furrowed. you take advantage of your newfound closeness by continuing your careful studying of her, this time her face. she’s caught some sun over the past few months, the tops of her cheeks red and her freckles prominent against her tan. her hair is pulled away from her face in its usual style and there’s a few beads of sweat building at her hairline from the sun beating down on you both all morning. she has a pimple on her forehead that she’s sure to complain about later and as she finishes wiping your hands off the peach in her mouth begins to drip steadily onto her chin. you think she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.

“there you go, babe,” she smiles, using one hand to take the fruit out of her mouth and the other to tuck the cloth back into your pocket, “my messy girl,” she hums, eyes full of affection as they meet yours again, the back of her free hand wiping off the juice from her chin.

“you’re messier than me,” you mumble, reaching forward to wipe your thumb over her slightly sticky chin, “you’re always getting yourself covered in shit, els” you say, suddenly aware of the way your breath is almost mingling and the intense look in her eyes. it’s all so intimate it almost makes your toes curl inside your boots.

ellie doesn’t bother to respond, her hands coming to cup your cheeks as she surges forward to kiss you. you dully register the sound of her peach falling to the ground, forgotten, as she backs you up against one of the trees, the trunk helping to stabilize you both as she pushes her jean clad thigh between your legs.

she mumbles a curse against your lips, nipping at your lower lip gently as her hands move from your cheeks to your shoulders, your waist and your hips where they finally settle. your own hands grip her shoulders, your nails digging into her shirt as she kisses the corner of your mouth before pulling away to look at you.

“we didn’t see any infected for a couple miles on our way up here, right?,” she asks, glancing down at your lips before they meet yours again as you shake your head, “we should be fine then, as long as you’re not too loud,” she says breathlessly, her hands squeezing your hips before her lips reattach to yours.

you’re being reckless and you both know it, but you can’t bring yourself to care as ellie’s thigh pushes up against your core and you whimper against her lips. there’s a knife in your boot and a gun on your hip should worst come to worst. you know ellie wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you either, she’s saved your ass before and she would do it again.

“ellie, please,” you gasp as she begins to kiss down your neck, “i need you,” you sigh, fingers tugging her hair loose before pulling the way that you know makes her groan and soak her panties, “need more,” you gasp again, pulling her hair harder as she bites down on your neck.

“i’ll give you what you need, honey,” she mumbles into your skin, sucking a mark right where she can feel your pulse beneath your skin, “be patient though, ‘m having fun,” she says, kissing your jaw before pulling away to tug your shirt over your head, not bothering with your sports bra, only pressing a few kisses to the tops of your breasts before her hands are fumbling with the button on your jeans.

the warm breeze feels good on your overheated skin as you pull ellie’s top free from where its tucked into her pants, your fingers trailing over her stomach beneath the fabric as you take a moment to appreciate the way she feels. her abs feel firm beneath your touch and you can feel your pussy clench around nothing as your fingers find the light scratch of her little happy trail.

“you’re so hot, els,” you say, leaning down to kiss her forehead where she’s pressed her face to your breasts. she grins up at you, teeth and all, self assured as always and it makes your heart swell in your chest. god, you love her. “‘love you,” you tell her softly, pulling your hands out from under her shirt so that you can cup her jaw and gently pull her face back up to your own.

“love you too, honey,” she smiles, eyes all syrupy sweet as she looks at you for a few moments before her lips meet yours again, “love you more than anything,” she says as she pulls your jeans down to your thighs, her fingers gently prodding at the wet spot on your panties, “gonna give you what you were asking for now, sweetheart.” she tells you as she starts to rub at your clit through the damp fabric.

your face flushes again when you feel how you’ve soaked through the fabric but you’re quickly distracted by ellie’s fingers and her mouth reattaching to yours. you know it won’t take long to get you off, you’re wound up tight already and ellie knows exactly what you like, just how to rub and stroke to make your knees weak.

you choke on a gasp as your panties are pulled to the side and ellie lets two fingers rub slowly at your exposed cunt. she pushes more of her weight up against you, forcing you to lean harder against the tree as she gatherers up your slick on her fingers so she can fit them inside of you without any resistance.

“so gorgeous,” ellie tells you, bumping her nose against yours affectionately and watching as your face twists in pleasure, “‘m gonna fuck you now,” she says, kissing your jaw before pushing her fingers into you one at a time, her wrist twisting to find the angle that makes you moan.

“ellie,” you gasp as her fingers curl into you and work up to a steady pace, her calloused thumb rubbing circles into your clit, “els that feels so good,” you moan, your head falling back to rest on the tree exposing the length of your throat. your focus was completely zeroed in on the woman in front on you, on her hand between your legs and her eyes resting heavy on your throat, your heaving chest, the way your brows pull together in pleasure.

“i can feel your pussy clenching, honey,” ellie hums, looking down at her hand between your legs and watching as your slick runs from your swollen pussy and down her wrist, “are you really gonna cum so fast?” she asks, her lips quirking back into a smirk, “do i make you feel that good?” she teases, pressing deeper inside of you and moving her fingers faster.

“you know you do, asshole.” you whine, throwing your forearm over your eyes and pushing your hips towards her hand, “‘m gonna cum, els,” you moan not a minute later, your free hand grabbing for purchase on her shoulder, “you’re gonna make me cum so hard.” you gasp, your walls clenching tight around her knuckles as she works you over the edge.

you can feel your pulse in your pussy as you cum, your back arching and your nails digging into ellie’s shoulder. you can feel her muscles shift as she alters her grip on you, wrapping her arm around your waist to hold you steady as she fucks you through your peak, your pussy gushing over her fingers and thighs trembling around her forearm.

“there you go, baby,” she coos, kissing your shoulder and helping you stand up with the support of the tree, “such a good girl,” she says as she brushes your hair out of your face, gently removing her fingers from you, “best girl in the world,” she adds with a smile, kissing both your flushed cheeks and huffing out a laugh at your dazed expression.

“i love you,” you mumble, turning your cheek so you can kiss her palm where it rests against your face, “i can’t feel my toes,” you say with a tired little smile as ellie laughs, leaning forward so she can kiss you.

“love you, love you, love you,” she says softly, kissing your forehead, your nose and then your lips, “and i’m glad i could make you feel so good,” she hums, gently pushing your hands away from her belt when you reach to undo it, “don’t need anything from you right now, sweetheart, makes me feel good to make you feel good.” she tells you, laughing at your pout before she kisses it away.

“i’m eating you out when we get home,” you tell her, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and pressing your forehead against hers, “i wanna make you drip all over my chin.” you say, kissing the corner of her smile.

“see,” ellie says, smirk already slipping back into place on her face, “i told you, you’re the messy one, my messy girl.”

[siryouarebeingmocked]

>Oftentimes transphobes will accuse trans women of being rapists based only on the fact that they have a penis (regardless of if she actually has a penis or not). Transphobes see trans women as "men who wear dresses so they can invade women's spaces and rape them."

Why are you making this about trans people, specifically, when the subject was false accusations and rape accusations in general?

>Yes, it is more significant that she's a radfem. But the te part of terf is not irrelevant.

Just in the interest of clarity; are you using Shinigami Eyes?

And if nthfem wasn't a TERF, would you have said anything at all?

>If you can never question a rape accusation, then transphobes can accuse any trans person they want to punish them for existing. Just like how common it was in the past for racist white women to accuse black men of rape so the men would be lynched. Not to mention that a trans woman existing in her body is often seen as a sexual deviance on its own.

Again, so?

Loads of radfems and mainstream feminists say women's accusations of men should be uncritically believed and society should not discuss false or mistaken accusation at all. Including pro-trans people. Eg the Brett Kavanaugh controversy.

They are just as reprehensible, IMO.

Also, I notice that the only people you're describing as victims of false rape accusations are people in minority groups.

Are you familiar with the duke university lacrosse case?

a black exotic dancer accused a sports team full of rich white boys of gangrape.

a lot of people believed her, because the situation fit their beliefs about gender, class and race. it was like those situations with the black men you mentioned, except everything but the gender was reversed.

and it turned out she was lying.

more recently there was the Rolling Stone article "a rape on campus". The second verse goes the same as the first, with some slight variations.

this accusation was in a magazine article, and the accused fraternity successfully sued Rolling Stone and the reporter in question for a few million dollars.

Around the same time we have mattress girl. A Columbia University student said a white boy sexually assaulted her. she carried a mattress dramatically to the Campus for her senior project got loads of National attention from mainstream feminism.

of course the narrative ignored how she already accused the accused to the school and the police and both have decided she didn't have much of a case. the guy she accused settled a lawsuit against the school because they failed to protect him.

So, you see, false rape accusations hurt cis white men, even when they fail. In this case, they also hurt the rep of Rolling Stone, Columbia U, UVa, and the gullible reporters who supported the false accusations.

>As an aside, I honestly dislike referring to terfs as feminists in any capacity since their ideology is rooted more in hatred of men than it is in the uplifting of women. I also don't know of any radfems that are trans inclusive, so the venn diagram of a terf and a radfem is basically a circle.

Radfems in general are rooted in hatred of men. TERFs just include trans women as 'men'. They're just a different branch of extremist feminism, and use the same basic gendered threat narrative as feminism in general.

And even mainstream feminism claims to be about "gender equality".

Extremists still count as part of the movement, and "uplifting women" includes privileging women.

>it seems you enjoy engaging in arguments and debates on tumblr about things like this#but im going to respond in good faith even though i have a feeling you just want to argue about something

I created this blog so I could discuss highly charged issues without attaching them to my real name.

You just made a thinly-veiled, passive-aggressive personal attack. Possibly because I'm questioning your ideology.

>#because like. you had to search through the notes to find my tags to call them into question

Tags show up automatically on the new tumblr UI. So just scrolling through the notes would show them. Which I do habitually, in case I see someone else who has a post I want to reblog.

Which is the main purpose of this website.

>#i dont think you follow me so you didnt just happen across my post with my tags on it

You say this, yet you either use Shinigami Eyes, or checked nthfem's blog to see what she thought, even though what she said in this thread is already reprehensible sexism.

Unless she bought up "MRAs" and wasn't gendering rape victims and rapists, somehow. Which radfems and mainstream feminists and people who sneer at the idea of false rape existing almost always do.

>#but i think its a fair question. what DOES transphobia have to do with false rape accusations?#i think it has to do a lot with them actually#whos an easier target to accuse of rape than someone whos often seen as a sexual predator and pervert by too many people already?

Like men? Like regular ol' men, around children? Like the men radfems hate, even by your own admission?

I also think it's worth pointing out the nature of the most common pervert accusations against trans people. Specifically, trans women are supposedly men in dresses who are either confusing their fetish for their gender identity, mentally ill, or outright predators.

Also, most false accusations of rape and sexual assault are against cis men, from cis women.

IMO, if I was to look at LGBT people who are accused of being perverts these days, it's also highly likely to be cis gay men, especially drag queens reading to kids.

So, I think you're focusing on the smaller problem.

personally I think false rape accusations are wrong for a variety of reasons. including on a fundamental moral level. the harm is not just to the accused. it damages actual victims. it damages people who trusted the accusation. it's a waste of time, money, and resources. Sometimes it can get people killed. I care, no matter who it happens to.

you, by contrast, seem to care almost exclusively when you think it harms trans people. And, briefly, about some old historical racial cases that happened decades before either of us were born.

Good day.

It's an important point that any system for establishing guilt will have false positives but torture and murder is bad even if it's torture and murder of the genuinely guilty. Like "kill all rapists" isn't bad just because there's no good way to tell rapists from non rapists

[acid-ixx]

- spirits of the light [ part one ]

Synopsis: [ 1k+ words ] You survived harsh words they hurled at you, lived off of cruel conditions, and no means of comfort. Just as they've killed quickly and efficiently, had they discover that you're not a faux imposter. As they had you a second life, and mayhaps a second chance for them, they've been far too late. You ran away the moment they healed you.

TW: gn reader. first-person perspective. mentions of past abuse. fluff. "you don't care" drabble but you survived and escaped. @nicebonescomrade and @gunterdon for both of you 😫 Edit: razor and mc's relationship is purely platonic, as in a parental sense.

I've yet to return to my homeland, Earth.

The path from Dragonspine to Wolvendom took a toll on me. I've tripped through stones and dead branches, sullying my dirty clothing furthermore. It wasn't fear that determined my passion to run. No, I didn't apprehend myself because of the Archons, or the people- I've simply sprint away, as I should've been dead, likewise.

Maybe it's been months since I've had a proper meal - I couldn't count the colors of the skies flying past my head - merely camouflaging beneath murky, marsh burrows of a desolate forest in Wolvendom. Unfortunately, streaming beads of liquid which the soil, now damp and my torn attire stained with the Earthly mud, seeped has lowered the temperature. I'm left in the mirage of hypertension once more.

Deja vu promptly crawled into my brain. Dragonspine, I recalled. Ah, how I oozed of Gold.

I'm certain it's the first time I've felt free of some sort, the nostalgia of petrichor hitting my nose when I first landed in this game, oblivious and curious. It was all a hoax, my hope dwindled quickly likewise my excitement to gamble with the advantage of being in my favorite game. Discourse certainly carried through my footsteps, as whenever I step foot into claimed territories, they've accused me of fraudulent behavior. Often would they hunt me down.

I've learned my lesson the more I scurry these lands.

After all, I had to lie low lest I meet the last pages of my story.

My stomach growled for an ounce of clean water, the shape of Sunsettia's snugly hanging from the branches of its tree seemed like one step further. But I've yet to complain. Besides, it constantly ailed from the bruises and scars, a relentless indication of what they've done- but it was no deal to me, as I've overcome the pain in exchange for another life.

I was fortunate enough to come across this lone boy who claimed to be a wolf; he helped aid my scars and provided his coat, to which I rejected, it's frigid as we ventured deeper into the gaps of his so-called abode. Alas, when my attention was elsewhere, he had removed the piece of article from his body and draped the frankly warm coat on my shoulders.

Razor, I knew of his name from my experience of gameplays. Supposedly raised by wolves, his knowledge came originally from his "lupical". Though conversing with him may seem difficult - his familiarity with languages in Mondstadt is entirely limited - I was easily able to discern which is which. I'm truly indebted to him that he went as far as sympathizing with me, he hid me from the vile treatment I ought to receive once more.

"I'm fine now, Razor. Thanks."

"No. Stay with me. We're finding Lupical, they're waiting."

He guided me through coarse trees and set up this camp before we reach any further, a temporary means of shelter with a fireplace. Hues of orange crackled in the background, illuminating light, too, with Razor tending to minor scars with Wolfhooks he happened to compile.

Although I insisted that he should've precisely left me to scourage for food, whether it'd be boar meat and all the more, he rather had shaken his head with an attentive countenance, patching my skin of any bruise he'd uncover.

"Razor, I'm glad you're doing this but you don't have to..."

"No, no. Lupical would be mad. They'll see the scars." He countered lips thinning to a line upon the sight of noticing a particularly significant tear. If I remember correctly, I've had that as my welcome gift when arriving in Inazuma; a stranger who possessed a knife had slashed me.

Razor sighed, I glimpsed elsewhere, failing to glance at his troubled gaze.

I remained silent with only the soft creaks of branches wavering through cool winds.

Surprisingly, I don't feel any throb anymore in any limb of mine, thankfully because of him.

He was delicate and treated me like glass, though he had his periods of raw strength for which I can't chastise him. Whilst he wrapped my left leg opened with a gash, with the usage of torn fabrics - one time I was able to persuade of him was to use my clothes instead - he'd wrap a tad too hard. I winced and he, too, duplicated my actions.

Razor gulped, stumbling back as he did so, there's a flash of utter shame glinting in his eyes, diverting his head. In my spot, perched on a stump of a tree, I mustered myself and told him it's alright, that it doesn't hurt me at all, fussed for the sudden tenseness of his shoulders.

Honestly, he comes across more like a kicked pup, in shambles because of an insignificant misstep. And through all the treatment I've attained, so far he was the tenderest and humane. Seconds stretched as hours the more I watch him paralyzed in his stead. I decided to approach him first, standing even with a limp to my step. He appeared out of consciousness, although breathing, his orifices muddled and clashed through red coloration and misty thoughts that dwell longer than they should.

But, as I ruffled his fluffy hair- he snapped out of his trembles, leaning into my touch while I continuously parted his tufts of shaggy, ivory hair to examine his crystal expression.

To conceal my coos were difficult, child-like wonder sparkled into his striking, crimson orbs. Glaze hastily dwindled and parted ways, clear like cloudless days or the ocean at bay. Ironic; he, a wolf under the moonlit glow, smoldered like a puppy, pouting if I were to cringe my hands backward.

It carried five more minutes of comfortable silence 'til my hands grew sore. He was pleased, I was too. Indeed, I've never really ought to seek affection, but I reckon Razor deserved some sort of solace.

We've returned and camped for the evening, make-shift leaves as a bed and Razor's coat serving a blanket, and the gossiping moon once again sharing my thoughts. I was truly lucky, an ounce of kindness he'd spare for me.

As I rest upon the comfortable, duly noted, mattress, my spent body disregarded the wolves slowly approaching us. Razor greeted his wolf family, who sniffed my laying form while he played with my hair. I'd forgotten it, nor never heard it, but a slight buzz had me listening to his whispers. Thick fur replaced the warm coat; I've snuggled deeper.

"Rest. Tomorrow, you'll meet Lupical."

[lovequartz]

bruise.

ওpairing: farmer!joshua x reader

ওgenre: fluff, angst, within the same realm as g&b

ওwarnings: minor character death mention

ওword count: 768

ওi bruise like a peach and i'm twice as sweet

ওnotes: this is actually a repost of the first fic i wrote for this acc! i privated it because i felt like i could do it better but actually i was way too hard on myself i think it's pretty good i just did some minor grammar fixes but otherwise it's the same!

It's just shy of ridiculous, you think. Trying to stand in the shoes of someone who's a size and a half smaller than you are. Not that you are, trying that is, to squeeze into her strappy summer time sandals. The ones that she'd wear to the beach, on a date with her husband, the sea breeze tugging at her skirt. Or her everyday sneakers, worn down with love and motions of her errands. Not even her house slippers, gray and cozy with cartoon-ish cat ears embroidered on them. The way she spun in the kitchen with them and was held in his embrace.

You'd never take something that didn't belong to you, never try to force yourself into a puzzle piece shape that wasn't your own.

When you first arrived in this little seaside town nobody really paid you any mind. Sure outsiders were a bit of a curiosity and new faces were a treat, but as you kept to yourself your new face wasn't so new. It wasn't until you acquired a job on Joshua Hong's farm that the town's people started to take an interest in you.

The rumors started as whispers. A hushed murmur to your left and a quiet mumble to your right. You hadn't noticed they were speaking about you at first, never one to gossip you didn't quite care what the older women across the marketplace were talking about. Until you hear one say "It's shameless really," and the other nods in agreement. "Making moves on a widower, she has no sense of empathy. Sweet Elle, the poor girl's probably rolling in her grave." Their words are sharp and twist into your gut like a silver blade. Is that really what everyone thought of you? The consideration is enough to make you blanch.

You spend the next few days locked in your room, lying to Joshua about a sudden cold that gave you an awful headache. The headache, unfortunately, wasn't a lie.

He's understanding, and leaves soup outside your door and tea brewed by Vernon's herbalist 'friend'. A note wishing you health signed with his name and a smile, your heart clenches.

Reluctantly you realize that you can't ignore the world forever and you return to work. Harvest season is fast approaching and the more hands the better.

With Joshua being at the market today it's your responsibility to take care of the trees. The fruit that hangs from them isn't quite ripe but they're picturesque none the less. Pruning the branches as you listen to the soft sounds of nature is rather therapeutic, and the busy work takes your mind off some of the more unpleasant thoughts plaguing your mind.

A slight wobble from the ladder you're currently on pulls your attention away from the tree in front of you. However, your reaction time is delayed when the ladder decides to tip backwards, sending you heels over head. The back of your head knocking against the grass jars you, and you groan loudly, hands coming up to try and soothe the pain.

You hadn't noticed Joshua standing over you until he's helping you into a sitting position, the man's thumb stroking your temple and his other hand resting on your back.

"Do you think you can stand up?" He asks, concern wrinkling his brow. You nod, not really wanting to hear your voice in your already reverberating skull.

Next thing you know you're seated on the couch inside the farmhouse living room. Joshua has a ice pack gently pressed to the back of your head. "Hold that still." He gently urges, lifting your arm up to keep the compress secure. "Got yourself pretty banged up now, didn't you?" The strawberry blonde says, a teasing tilt to his voice. You offer him a grimace in response.

Your left arm and leg respectively have bruises forming, still red from their impact with the ladder and then the ground.

"You bruise like a peach." He notes, not even trying to hide the smirk that tugs at his lips. "Very funny." You murmur, voice dripping sarcasm. "Aren't I?"

His smile brings your heart a bit of warmth, and it gives you some much needed courage. Gossiping grannies unable to mind their own business aren't the ones who get to define your relationship with Joshua. They could never understand the scope of your feelings, and that realization sets you at ease. You lay back into the cushions of the sofa and bask in the warmth of this farmhouse you are lucky to call home and the man in front of you. Grateful for his care.

ওnotes: as always please let me know what you think! im happy i got to repost this i just adore peach farmer joshua <3

[mlynar-nearl]

omg !!!! hi ty for the detailed response 😭😭😭😭 i love all the mini little petty facts like god !!!! i love learning about ocs !!!!! he likes birds, hes petty and buys ancient iberian cookies to spite andoain pls he sounds like a fun character pls i cannot express myself but !!!!!! i am immensely pleased !!!! thank u sm </3

and yes ofc u did amazing in ur essay ! you dont just try you do it very amazingly !!! (www sorry im kind of just feelings rn i love the reply!! im hyped!! idk what to say!!) this is a lot of exclamation marks i apologize as well and tysm i love the detailed ans of his kit as well 🥰🥰 ur a wonderful being i love u and ur ocs and tysm aaaaa idk what to say

do u have any more ocs ? or do u have a storyline set for shealtiel? (im so sorry learning abt other ppls ocs make me all fuzzy im sorry ;-;) like ocs in ak are a thing ive never actually thought about so now that ive heard abt urs im just ! hell yeah! iw to know more ! so thank u for indulging me !

yes of course!! i love answering questions like i said i have lots of thoughts, head full and Such. especially about my ocs and mlynar because he's blorbo from my games. god i woke up today and i'm counting down the events til he's Here and i Have Him.

i do have a couple more arknights ocs (i have ocs in other things lol but. arknights is the focus.) they're less developed outright than shealtiel.

i'm leaving shealtiel's story where it is for the moment until we have an update on what andoain is doing, then i'll probably tweak it to move with that. i do think that he's not going to get what he wants, because i don't think he's going to get to help kill andoain given how arknights handles characters like ando, but he's going to be better off for not getting it.

as for my other ocs, i have my doctor, who is in stasis because i don't like being wildly wrong about lore. but the sparknotes is that their name is taki, they're divorced from kal'tsit, they're four foot nine and their abilities include seeing branching timelines from their decisions, which is responsible for their tactics. the Doctor Visor helps them filter it all out, which is why they rarely take it off in actual situations or important (plot-relevant) conversations. however, it was made before the sarcophagus, so it's a little loose and it falls down a bit sometimes. for now they're a fennec vulpo because i love fennec foxes. i realize this makes two of my arknights characters vulpos, but this is unsurprising, because foxes are part of my Brand.

second fox is a self-indulgent one. audr "audie" fuchsfrost is arctic fox + from a minor family in kjerag. i made him because i think silverash is hot and i wanted to make an ocship about it. bottom text. audie seems very unassuming and cute and sociable, but he also has a pragmatic side that keeps encio guessing and is always a pleasant surprise for audie's partner. arranged marriage to actual lovers because they realize they have a lot in common. i said this was self-indulgent, didn't i. "this is my husband, enciodes, and this is his boyfriend, gnosis."

last one is still in the oven, but i've been working on a kazimierz bounty hunter's guild oc, a banshee sarkaz called enka or "howl". she grew up with the guild. has vocal Arts. is an absolute raccoon of a woman. i think they found her in the garbage. i've kind of been marinating on her the last couple of days but she's the newest addition, so, there's not too much there yet.

[whatanoof]

I have a few corruption ideas in mind for cal and I'm just. Okay so like-- reader grinding on/teasing him, maybe while they're hiding in a cave or an empty room in an inquisitor base-- purposefully to the point where he can't hold himself back and he just cums right then and there 👀

Or-- reader accidentally projecting some very, very dirty thoughts towards Cal (bonus points if it's virgin!/inexperienced!Cal), and his reaction to said thoughts ;3c

Don't feel obligated to turn these into full fics or anything tho!! I just like to share my thoughts w ppl and see what they think abt it 🥰💛

SKDJFO THESE ARE GOLD I LOVE THEM.

Oh babe, this isn’t an obligation. This is my PLEASURE. Don’t mind me with my slightly force sensitive reader learning how to weaponize her inexperience against her very innocent boyfriend.

A/N: These turned out a lot more fluffy than I had in mind at first, and probably more so than you had in mind, anon. I'll to expand a little more on these, but I wanted to give you what I have now. More to come!

NSFW TOWARDS THE END 18+

You were two weeks into your relationship the first time it happened. It’s early morning on Bogano, the rare off-day where Cal doesn’t have to take a quest anywhere. The grass glistens in the early morning light, dew droplets sending sparkles of light through the air. You sit in the field, watching the sunrise with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and a steaming mug of caf clenched tightly in your hands, gracing your morning with its fragrant smell. Happy chirps and beeps echo through the stillness of the morning as BD-1 scampers around the field, chasing a butterfly that’s been disturbed from its early morning food quest. It’s so domestic that it almost hurts. It reminds you of life before the Purge, when everything was better. Except, now you have Cal.

Not beside you of course, he’s actually the reason that you’re even awake to see the dawn. He stands stock-still in the grass several meters in front of you. He’s relaxed, breathing in the crisp dawn air, eyes closed against the rays of light beginning to conquer the horizon line.

Cere stalks back and forth in front of him, “Focus, Cal.” She hefts a round fruit in her hands about as big as her head. “Sense the life around you. What do you feel?”

Cal pivots slowly on the spot until he’s facing you. “I feel you. And her.” His brow is creased in that one spot between his eyebrows. You want to kiss it. 

“Not us, Cal. The life all around us. There’s a reason I chose Bogano for this lesson.” Cere’s disapproving tone is a common staple around here. The crew has learned to accept it as a sign of affection.

“A bogling. On the ship. It’s looking for food.” Cal says.

You smile. The newest addition to the crew has been nothing but a joy to you and a pain in the ass to Greez. It’s always stealing his favorite snacks and making a mess of his ship, if you count it’s tiny nest in the corner of the kitchen to be ‘a mess’. 

“Better. Expand, Cal.”

Then you feel something at the edge of consciousness, something familiar and strange all at the same time. It wasn’t so much a thing, but a feeling. A presence. If you had to describe it in words, you couldn’t. But if you had to try, it would be in swaths of color and emotions that blend and swirl in the invisible eye of your mind. It’s warm, reds and oranges and yellows fluttering against each other, tinged around the edges by blue, the same blue as Cal’s saber. Cal. The presence is undeniably Cal, the warm colors echoing back to his fiery spunk and stubborn affection. 

Your eyes open. When had they closed? Cal is right there, his hand stretched out in your direction. Cere watches cautiously, eyes flicking between you and him. You see her reluctance to interrupt the moment. 

As if called back to the ground by your distraction, Cal opens his eyes with a soft gasp. The presence retreats, fading from your short grasp as you try to chase it. Your gaze bores into Cal, trying to focus your mind on reaching back out to him. But you can’t.

Cere speaks, “That’s enough Force training for today.” She tosses the previously forgotten fruit directly at Cal’s head. “Think fast. Form V today.”

His lightsaber materializes into his hand, cleanly slicing the offending object out of the air in a single smooth motion. But Cal doesn’t hesitate for a single moment, flowing through different saber forms without difficulty. Cere calls a variety of commands, and each gives way to another attack by Cal. The saber moves like it is an extension of his body, like a deadly serpent that flickers in and out of the air.

This continues for a long time, long enough that you have time to finish off your caf. The drink warms your insides. Watching Cal working so hard to strengthen his connection to the Force warms your heart. Examining the definition of his shoulders and his muscular torso warms other places. Your eyes drift to his ass, emboldened by the illusion of ignorance. You allow your mind to drift. 

You and Cal started dating two weeks ago. There was an irresistible pull between the two of you, to the point where the crew forced you two to acknowledge it. Cal had been cautious, but permission from Greez and a blessing from Cere was all the encouragement he needed, because as he had said so eloquently, “Like you. I like you. A lot.”

And you like Cal. A lot. Nothing physical had happened beyond a single makeout session and more cuddle sessions than you could count. You know that he’s unsure about sex, and because of that you’re more than willing to wait for him to be ready. But that doesn’t mean you can’t look and daydream. 

Your gaze drags over his body, imagining for a moment how it would feel. What it would be like, to be allowed close to him to make him feel good. What his skin would taste like, how your fingers would feel threaded through his bright hair. The sounds that he would make as you go down on him. 

A gasp from the field snaps you out of the daydream. Cal’s facedown on the ground; all you can make out of him from here is the fringe of his poncho and his shock of red hair contrasting against the green environment of Bogano. You stand, hurrying over as Cere helps him up.

“Cal?” She's concerned, you can see it in her eyes even if she won’t verbalize it. You’re worried too. In all of your time aboard the Mantis, you’d seen clumsy Cal maybe once before, and that was because he was goofing off in an attempt to make Greez laugh.

He doesn’t respond to Cere. His gaze snaps up to you, and he says your name urgently. Your brow creases, “What?”

His face is flushed red, and he’s panting as he shakily kneels in the grass. “I think you’re Force-sensitive.”

---

“No.”

“Come on, it’ll be easy!” He looks so earnest, like a kicked puppy dog. You avert your eyes. Looking too long means that you will fall prey to the terrible innocent eyes.

“I said no. What’s so hard to understand about that?” You cross your arms tighter over your chest. You know that arguing is futile. Cal is the most stubborn person you know, even more so than Greez and you have witnessed the intense food aggression.

“Babe, it’s one rock. You’re not going to get hurt.”

“I might when it’s going to be flying at my face!” Cere had insisted that you learn to control your Force sensitivity, at the very least so that you could learn how to guard your mind from others. But, she placed Cal in charge of your training. Merrin’s Force abilities were nothing close to what you could hope to accomplish, and you believe Cere’s exact words were, “It will be good for Cal to learn just how irritating training a Padawan can be.”

And so your Jedi boyfriend became your Jedi Master. It was quickly determined that your Force sensitivity was nothing close to the level of Jedi. Your talents extended to thought projection, minor thought detection abilities, and, as Cal had been so excited to learn, basic telekinesis. 

That had been an accidental discovery, actually, brought out of a session wrestling with the Mantis’s control board wiring. You’d lost concentration for a split second, and in a flash of light and electricity, you were nursing a burnt finger. Merrin was attracted to your area by the flash of light and pained cry, and was incredibly surprised to find you with various medical supplies hovering in front of your face while you soaked and bandaged your finger. And she’d snitched on you.

So now you’re on a no name forest planet, facing down your boyfriend who’s threatening to throw a rock at your head in order to force out your hidden telekinesis, because as soon as Merrin witnessed the feat, you’d lost all voluntary control over it.

“Cal, this is a bad idea.”

“Do you have a better one?”

“Yes. Leave me alone. I can shield my thoughts now, that’s all I wanted to do.”

“Oh come on. It doesn’t excite you even a little?”

It does, but not enough that you’d be willing to have a rock thrown at your face. You roll your eyes and throw your hands up, “I’m going back to the ship.”

But as soon as you turn, something sparks on the edge of your conscious mind, and you whirl with an outstretched hand. The rock sails past your fingers and bonks you on the forehead. You clap a hand over your head as pain throbs at the point of contact. “Ow!”

You whip your head up and glare at Cal, who’s standing there, mouth agape and eyes so wide that you can see the whites from here. When he meets your eyes, he shrinks back and turns to run.

“Cal Kestis you are going to pay for that!” You lunge after him, nearly tripping over a root as you scramble after your soon-to-be dead boyfriend. 

He disappears around the corner of the clearing with you hot on his heels. Trees tower over your head in every direction. The only thing interrupting the perfect vision of nature is the dorsal fin of the Mantis spearing up into the sky, guiding you to safety.

And Cal’s running away from it, leading you further into the forest. Branches whip at your face, but you can’t pay attention to them when you’re focusing harder on not losing Cal as he ducks and weaves through the foliage with all of the ease of a jungle cat. Then you round a corner, and he’s gone. 

You’re gasping for breath as you stumble to a stop in the midst of the forest. Damn it Cal. You want to rest, but you’ll be damned if you’re going to allow Cal to get away with this. He knows that if he gets away now, you’re probably going to be cooled down by the time he gets back to the Mantis, and you can’t have that. You tamp down your anger. Gather yourself. Feel the world around you. Now hold it at arms’ length. You bring your mental shields up slowly, guarding yourself and calming your racing heart through a few deep breaths. Then, you let the barriers down, allowing the world to rush back into your mind. You exhale slowly, combing through the sensations like Cal had taught you, searching for the presence that had become so familiar over the past few months. There!

A flash of warm colors in the midst of the muted Force signatures of plants.

You whirl, scanning the tree branches above you in time to see Cal make a break for it. He’s overhead, about ten feet off of the ground and running along a tree branch so gracefully that it seems like he’s skimming across the air. He’s heading for a vine. ‘Sneaky little--’

‘Sneaky little what?’

You gasp as he teases back through the Force. Your brow sets in determination, and you narrow your gaze on the vine that he’s reaching out for. You settle on it, and reach out. Your consciousness brushes the vine, pulling it just out of Cal’s reach. His outstretched fingers close just short of the vine, and he loses his balance.

He hits the ground with an oof and you plant a foot on his chest. “Sneaky little laserbrain.”

“Babe you did it!” He grins up at you, unrepentant and ruffled from the mad dash through the forest, “Don’t you love your amazing boyfriend who just helped you to learn another Force trick?”

You smile, “I do. But--” you press harder on his chest with your boot, “--you’re still going to pay for that.”

He groans, “I just paid by falling out of a tree. How else would I make it up to you?”

Without your bidding, ideas leap to your mind. “Oh, I have some.” Cal, between your legs and making you cum with only his mouth. You, on your knees for Cal against one of these trees. Riding Cal back on the Mantis, topless and gasping his name as he brushes up against that one spot inside of you that makes you sing. You don’t project them, but you’re aware that your shields aren’t up, and Cal’s Force presence is hovering on the edge of yours.

Cal’s face reddens as he gapes up at you. All of this time, and he still gets worked up at the bare idea of you naked. It’s a little cute. He springs to his feet, “Let’s go back to the ship.”

You hum, looking at him thoughtfully, ‘We don’t need to go back to the ship for a couple of those.’

He chokes, and you smile as you grab the front of his poncho and back him against a large tree. This is going to be fun.