#open to additions and corrections but to my knowledge this is it

[handweavers]

something that comes up for me over and over is a deep frustration with academics who write about and study craft but have little hands-on experience with working with that craft, because it leads to them making mistakes in their analysis and even labelling of objects and techniques incorrectly. i see this from something as simple as textiles on display in museums being labelled with techniques that are very obviously wrong (claiming something is knit when it's clearly crochet, woven when that technique could only be done as embroidery applied to cloth off-loom) to articles and books written about the history of various aspects of textiles making considerable errors when trying to describe basic aspects of textile craft-knowledge (ex. a book i read recently that tried to say that dyeing cotton is far easier than dyeing wool because cotton takes colour more easily than wool, and used that as part of an argument as to why cotton became so prominent in the industrial revolution, which is so blatantly incorrect to any dyer that it seriously harms the argument being made even if the overall point is ultimately correct)

the thing is that craft is a language, an embodied knowledge that crosses the boundaries of spoken communication into a physical understanding. craft has theory, but it is not theoretical: there is a necessary physicality to our work, to our knowledge, that cannot be substituted. two artisans who share a craft share a language, even if that language is not verbal. when you understand how a material functions and behaves without deliberate thought, when the material knowledge becomes instinct, when your hands know these things just as well if not better than your conscious mind does, new avenues of communication are opened. an embodied knowledge of a craft is its own language that is able to be communicated across time, and one easily misunderstood by those without that fluency. an academic whose knowledge is entirely theoretical may look at a piece of metalwork from the 3rd century and struggle to understand the function or intent of it, but if you were to show the same piece to a living blacksmith they would likely be able to tell you with startling accuracy what their ancient colleague was trying to do.

a more elaborate example: when i was in residence at a dye studio on bali, the dyer who mentored me showed me a bowl of shimmering grey mud, and explained in bahasa that they harvest the mud several feet under the roots of certain species of mangroves. once the mud is cleaned and strained, it's mixed with bran water and left to ferment for weeks to months.  he noted that the mud cannot be used until the fermentation process has left a glittering sheen to its surface. when layered over a fermented dye containing the flowers from a tree, the cloth turns grey, and repeated dippings in the flower-liquid and mud vats deepen this colour until it's a warm black. 

he didn't explain why this works, and he did not have to. his methods are different from mine, but the same chemical processes are occurring. tannins always turn grey when they interact with iron and they don't react to other additives the same way, so tannins (polyphenols) and iron must be fundamental parts of this process. many types of earthen clay contain a type of bacteria that creates biogenic iron as a byproduct, and mixing bran water with this mud would give the bacteria sugars to feast upon, multiplying, and producing more of this biogenic iron. when the iron content is high enough that the mud shimmers, applying this fermented mixture to cloth soaked in tannins would cause the iron to react with the tannin and finally, miraculously: a deep, living grey-black cloth.

in my dye studio i have dissolved iron sulphide ii in boiling water and submerged cloth soaked in tannin extract in this iron water, and watched it emerge, chemically altered, now deep and living grey-black just like the cloth my mentor on bali dyed. when i watched him dip cloth in this brown bath of fermented flower-water, and then into the shimmering mud and witness the cloth emerge this same shade of grey, i understand exactly what he was doing and why. embodied craft knowledge is its own language, and if you're going to dedicate your life to writing about a craft it would be of great benefit to actually "speak" that language, or you're likely to make serious errors.

the arrogance is not that different from a historian or anthropologist who tries to study a culture or people without understanding their written or spoken tongue, and then makes mistakes in their analysis because they are fundamentally disconnected from the way the people they are talking about communicate. the voyeuristic academic desire to observe and analyse the world at a distance, without participating in it. how often academics will write about social movements, political theory and philosophy and never actually get involved in any of these movements while they're happening. my issue with the way they interact with craft is less serious than the others i mentioned, but one that constantly bothers me when coming into contact with the divide between "those who make a living writing about a subject" and "those who make a living doing that subject"

[pomefioredove]

OH MY SEVEN! PLEASE I NEED A PART 2 OF MC GETTING BOUGHT BY NBC (or maybe they get bought by rsa? By like Chenya or Neige?)

part two of the NBC ending is here! very intrigued by the idea of an RSA ending, especially since our knowledge is limited. I also kin snow white so maybe I have a little soft spot for neige.

bonus: I had to stop writing this to save another animal that got inside. second time this week.

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | 'bad' ending

summary: yuu transfers to RSA type of post: short fic characters: neige, chenya additional info: yuu is gender neutral, pretty platonic

This entire ordeal had been nothing if not shady.

From the purpose, to the "donations", to the absence of the prefect themselves...

...And now, the grand announcement- that of which Crowley had been hyping up for days- was cancelled.

"I don't get it," Epel murmurs, walking on a sideways footpath back to the hall of mirrors. "You really think he just took all the money and ran?"

Vil huffs, the disappointment heavy in his voice. "Well, it certainly seems that way. No one's seen him all day,"

Despite the sour mood over the trio of Pomefiore students, the day is bright and sunny. Birds sang, the sun shone, even the wind carried a suspiciously merry tune with it.

"We should not give up hope so soon. Anything could happen," Rook ponders. "Who knows? The day is not over yet."

"I'm starting to wish it was," Vil says. "It's far too jovial for such an underwhelming afternoon. And the whole purpose of this walk was to clear our minds... hmph."

Epel squints ahead, taking in the way beams of sunlight seem to shine through the foliage, casting rays of gold over the usually darker campus.

"Y'know, I betcha- I-I mean, I think you might be onto something. It is unusually cheery today, isn't it?"

Vil huffs. "Wonderful. Nature itself mocks me,"

"Non, it's not the climate which has changed... it's more of a presence. Monsieur Pommette is correct," Rook says. "Something has shifted here."

Vil rolls his eyes, not exactly in the mood to be playing word games with Rook again. He shoots a glare to Epel, warning the boy not to encourage him, and a silence falls over the three.

Though... he still cannot deny that something feels aloof. Something that isn't sitting right with him...

He sighs. "Perhaps we should check on the prefect. Just in case,"

And so the three stop in their tracks and awkwardly, though hurriedly, walk to Ramshackle.

Nothing is quite amiss about the building itself, though, still, there's something hazy and dreamlike about it. A warm, golden glow that turns the rough and brittle exterior into a quaint and charming home, full of light.

"I don't like this," Epel murmurs. Vil does not respond, but he understands. He's having similar thoughts.

Just as they're about to enter, someone tall and dark steps outside.

"Crowley!" all three snap, in varying tones of voice.

The man goes stiff and, for a moment, looks as if he's about to make a run for it- though he thankfully holds his ground. "Ah- good afternoon, dear pupils. Having a... studiful day?"

"That's not a word," Vil crosses his arms and glares. "Why are you here?"

"I was... well... just discussing some things... with... the prefect..."

He sounds utterly nervous.

Vil's eyes narrow. "What are you hiding?"

Before he can answer, the door behind him opens again, and you peer outside, giving Crowley a chance to escape. "Guys?"

"Trickster! We are relieved to see you in good health!"

"Hm? Why wouldn't I be?"

Epel shakes his head. "W-well, you just haven't been around much, and we saw Crowley- hey, where'd he go?"

Vil grumbles something indistinct, massaging his temples. "That man..." he sighs. "But back to business. Are you well? What's happened?"

You look away. "Well-"

Thankfully, before you have to explain it yourself, the door opens wider, leaving the Pomefiore trio face-to-face with the one person they least expected to see.

Neige beams. "Oh, my... hello, Vil! I didn't think I'd run into you here!"

The housewarden's eyes immediately narrow, and it takes him a moment to respond. "Yes, well, as you know, I go to school here. Would anyone care to explain this?"

A voice from behind the trio echoes. "Oh, I volunteer!"

Epel squeaks and jumps (much to his embarrassment) and the other two whirl around to an ever-smiling face they can't quite recall...

"See, we're on the moving squad," Che'nya giggles, slinking back to the front door of Ramshackle. "You wanna know why? I'm sure you're just dying with curiosity, aren't you?"

"I can put the pieces together myself, thank you," Vil murmurs. "But I do have a few questions."

Che'nya opens his mouth wide again-

"-Not for you," he turns to you. "How? And why, exactly?"

You shrug, looking to Neige for help.

Which he gladly provides, of course. "Well... it was more of a school decision. We heard what was happening, and held a vote," he says, speaking tentatively while under Vil's astute gaze. "We've heard lots about how much your prefect has helped here, and how unfortunate their circumstances are, and... well..."

"A person like that just doesn't go to NRC," Che'nya snickers.

Vil glares for a moment longer, and then sighs. "Well... this is certainly a turn of bad luck for the lot of us,"

"But I can visit!" you insist.

Neige and Che'nya both nod in agreement, though the latter's placid smile makes his approval seem less genuine.

"Well," Vil says, turning to the boys beside him. "Don't you two have anything to say?"

Epel clears his throat, trying his best to sound light and formal. "I think it's... it's... I'll miss you," he sulks.

"A magnifique opportunity! Think how much you will learn, how many new people you will meet- oh, you must allow me to visit often! I could not bear to let you make all these beautiful discoveries on your own!" Rook says, dabbing the corner of his eyes with a handkerchief.

"Why am I not surprised?" Vil sighs. "Well... I suppose I have a duty to inform the others. And, perhaps..."

He pauses, his watchful gaze fixed on you.

"...We might hold a vote of our own."

[kitteninthewindow]

Custom Fur Accessory Tutorial

I have been meaning to put this together for a loooonnnng time, but as there is still a lot of information about the process that is undiscovered, I held off. I didn't have the energy to deep dive and solve those mysteries either, so I just kept delaying and delaying. The circle of procrastination in progress!

It's long overdue though, and even though the mysteries still remain, I am sure there are others eager for even the partial scoop of knowledge I've managed to glean. And also thanks @angelapleasant for helping re-motivate me! I appreciate the patience as I worked through to remember all the steps.

This assumes you already know the main basics of making a mesh and using SimPE, so I won't go over every excruciating detail for this. I personally will be using a cat mesh for this tutorial, but the method is the same for dogs as well (they just have way more meshes/resources).

Tools: SimPE, a mesh editor such as MilkShape, and a photoeditor. I also put together some Custom Pet Genetics Resources, which includes everything pet related I've ever utilized when making pet cc. Everything is separated by cats or dogs, and then sorted even further. For this tutorial, I will be making a cat item, so the resources I'm using will be from there. If you're making an item for dogs, just follow the same steps but using the dog equivalent of each resource instead. I tried to make it organized, but it's probably still messy.

Step 1 - Slaved Vs Recolorable: There are two types of Fur Accessories: slaved and recolorable. I will only go over the process for slaved furcards, but the process for recolorable is pretty much the same except at one part.

• Slaved are my personal favorite fur accessories; they grab their color from that of the pet’s coat color. They don’t require any recolors, just one simple package and they’re all done. The only downside is that they don't have their own textures. Examples of slaved furcards are the furry belly fluff on cats and dogs.

• Recolorable is by far the most tedious of all versions, as it requires an additional recolor of the accessory to be made for every single fur color, and any fur colors that don’t have a recolor made for them will default to white. Do yourself a favor and avoid recolorable accessory furs at all costs. Examples of recolorable furcards are dog beards, dog eyebrows, and poodle fluff.

Step 2 - Make the Mesh: Open MilkShape and import "bodyfurcards.5gd" from the zMeshResources folder.* There's 5 groups, don't delete any, just make your mesh on one of the group layers already available. I, personally, put my meshes on the bodyfurcards7 group.

After you've made your mesh, map the textures to "fubodyaccflowingfurcardREMAKE.png" in the zMaterialDefinitions folder. This is from my AccFurCardsTextureOct2018.package, which is a default replacement of Maxis' original body furcard texture. It adds a square in the corner (for the dog equivalent, it adds a teeny tiny rectangle near where the eye texture normally is).

Once you're satisfied with the mapping, then make sure all the comments and joints are correct, and export. As a fair warning, pet weights are super weird, so your mesh might wind up with some strange issues such as morphing or floating.

*There is also a facefurcards version, but my attempts to use that one for custom fur accessories have been unsuccessful. I included it if anyone else wanted to try their hand at it.

Step 3 - Make the Mesh Package: In the zMeshResource folder find the BodyFlowingFurCardsMesh package. Open it in SimPE, Fix Integrity, then Save As under a new name. Then replace the GMDC with your exported Milkshape mesh, and save. Or don't, if you prefer a different way of mesh making. The TRULY important part is the Shape (shpe) file. Click it and make sure it has the correct number of parts in Plugin view. BodyFlowing (Cat) for example has 5 groups, so it should look like this:

Make sure the new mesh is in your Downloads folder, if you haven't already put it there.

Step 4 - Make An Accessory: Open up Bodyshop and make a brand new accessory. To make it easier on yourself, I would suggest choosing an accessory that has only 1 or 2 ages or genders. One age group if you are making a mesh for only adult cats, two if it will be for cats and kittens, etc. That way you won't need to delete unneeded overlays and other resources from the package.

Other than the number of ages, don't worry about anything else. Immediately import the accessory project into Bodyshop, and then close the program.

Step 5 - Clean Out Unneeded Textures: Inside your SavedSims folder should be the new accessory package you just made. Open it, and delete all the Material Definitions (TXMT) and Texture Images (TXTR). The only exception would be if you're making Recolorable Fur Accessories, then skip this step instead and skip step 6 as well. For the Recolorables' case, here is where you would import your recolor. Remember, each fur coat color will require their own recolors of your mesh, which means you will need to make a new accessory in bodyshop for every single fur color.

Step 6 - Link To Furcard Material Definition: Click on the 3IDR resources and let them load. Pick 3IDR, if it has a Resource Node and a Shape listed in the plugin view, perfect. Find the first available material definition line, and change it to the appropriate File type - SubType/Class ID - Group - Instance and delete any material definition lines underneath it.

0x49596978 - 0x08CCE154 - 0x1C0532FA - 0xFF7FC524

It's the same for both cats and dogs for some reason. I also included the "FUBodyAccFlowingFurcards.5tm.xml" in the MaterialDefinitions folder, if you prefer the package method. Repeat for additional 3IDR that have material definitions, ignore 3IDR that don't.

Step 7 - Link Accessory Package to Mesh: If you already know how to link, feel free to jump ahead. While still on the the 3IDRs, pick one that has a Resource Node and a Shape listed in the plugin view. Memorize the chosen 3IDR's instance. I picked the one with an instance of 0x00000801, which is usually the instance for adult female accessories. Click on Tools>PJSE>Body Mesh Tool>Linking Stage. Then select the mesh you made in step 3. Click on any other resource available, then save.

Step 8 - Edit Overlay XML: Click on the XMOL with the same instance as the 3IDR from step 7. As a reminder, I picked the adult female instance of 0x00000801 for this tutorial. Find the family string value, and copy it with ctrl+c and make sure you put it somewhere you won't lose it.

From there, right-click the XMOL and select "replace", then select the "XMOLReference.xmol.xmol" in the main folder. Paste the family value you copied earlier into the new XMOL, then save.

Click on the XMOL again and change the values of any lines necessary. For the Species line use 8 (cats), 2 (big dogs), 4 (little dogs), or 6 (big & little dogs, AKA puppies). For the Gender line use 3 (unisex). For the Age line use 18 (adults & elders), or 20 (kittens/puppies). The Parts line should be 8 or 2 (use 2 for meshes that need to morph and move with the pet's body/face, like the face fur cards). The Category line should be 7, but if they aren't then fix them. Delete the Outfit and Priority line, if they haven't been already. Override0subset needs to say bodyfurcards.

Step 9 - Choose A SubtypexBin: The most frustrating part about pet cc is that they have big limitations. For example, pets can only wear one "collar", and only a small number of custom fur accessories are allowed to be worn at once. You can have as many fur accessories as you want in the game, but if any two fur accessories share the same subtype and bin combo, then they can’t be used together at the same time. Pets can have a total of 10 fur accessories without conflict, but once you exceed 10 eventually some will have to use the same SubtypeXBin combo and thus be unusable together.

In the XMOL, change the Subtype line to B, if you're making a Slaved Fur Accessory*. If you're making a Recolorable one instead, use 0 as your subtype. Then change your Bin to either 0, B, C, D, or E. Now save.

Depending on your project, I might even suggest you choose a slot already filled instead of a free slot. For example, if you are making a wing accessory then choose BxC (BxE for dogs), or a head accessory that would look terrible with antenna then choose BxD (BxC for dogs), etc.

*There is a way to trick the game into allowing slaved fur accessories to use the 0 subtype. It involves loading the game with the fur accessory as a normal B subtype first, and then changing the subtype after. The game will then use the "old" version of the accessory, but with the subtype permissions of the "new" version.

Step 10 - Repeat Steps 6-9 For Additional Ages/Species: As it says, if you plan on making versions for kittens/big dogs/little dogs/puppies/etc. Have all of them share the same family, so that way they are all connected and can be passed down to offspring.

At the end, each XMOL should roughly resemble this, but with whatever their appropriate values are:

Don't forget to make sure the override0resourcekeyidx is correct for whatever line the material definition is in the 3IDR! ("4" means the 5th line, etc. The first line is number "0", so count the lines then minus 1.)

Step 11 - Delete Cache/Thumbnails/Registry: To quote @angelapleasant who worded it perfectly, pet cc is sticky. The game frequently gets stuck on old versions, and has to be forcibly updated. This stickiness is exactly yeah the subtype loophole mentioned earlier exists, but it can be very frustrating when testing new cc. In your game folder delete the Accessory.cache, Group.cache, cigen.package, ContentRegistry, and Thumbnails folder. Make sure AccFurCardsTextureOct2018.package is in your Downloads folder. Then load up the game, and check out your custom fur accessory.

If it all worked out, congrats! For Dogs if you mapped onto the tiny rectangle, then slaved fur accessory will appear gold with Maxis fur colors but custom colors will work just fine. Recolorable dog accessories on the other hand will require my MaxisAccFurDogFix to work.

I think that's everything, and good luck! Feel free to ask questions or reach out, I'll do my best to help. And if you do wind up making something, please let me know; I love seeing what people create!

[writingquestionsanswered]

this is, in my opinion, a heavy question, and i understand if you won’t answer.

how do i know if a very loaded, traumatic scene is correct for the overall story? where does the line between ‘trauma for the sake of trauma’ and a traumatic event that is needed to effect a character a certain way and to convey a message fall?

Knowing When a Traumatic Scene is Gratuitous

"Where does the line between ‘trauma for the sake of trauma’ and a traumatic event that is needed to effect a character a certain way and to convey a message fall?"

You answered your own question, actually.

Does the traumatic event affect the character in an important way? Does the traumatic event help to convey your story's theme or message? If the answer to one or both of those questions is "yes," it probably isn't gratuitous.

Another good way to tell is ask yourself, "Would the plot still make sense if the traumatic event is removed?" If the answer is "no," it's not gratuitous.

If you're still not sure, I think it's worth doing a little brain dump deep thought and really analyzing your answers. Why did you choose to write this scene? What does the scene make you feel and why? What do you want it to make the reader feel and why? If you find yourself struggling to answer these questions, you may have written the scene for the wrong reasons. Or, if your answers anything like: because it was fun to write, because I enjoy hurting this character, because I needed some drama, because I wasn't sure what else to write... these are all signs the scene is gratuitous. Additional questions: What are some of the things this scene accomplishes in the story? Are there other ways these same things can be accomplished? If you have trouble listing things that the scene accomplishes, that's a red flag. If you can list list things the scene accomplishes but can also list alternatives, that's also a red flag.

Finally, think about why you feel like you're the best person to write about and explore this particular kind of trauma. Is it something you have personal experience with? Have you had a different but similar experience that you feel offers an interesting and helpful view of this particular trauma? Do you feel that your exploration says something about the trauma that will benefit people who have been through it, and/or help those who haven't to understand it better? If you're not writing from a place of experience or similar experience, have you done a lot of research to make sure your portrayal is authentic and not harmful? Have you enlisted the help of a knowledgeable sensitivity reader who can vet your portrayal?

I hope that helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[slowburningechoes]

remediation

Summary: When your first forensic interview isn't up to program standards, you are forced to meet with your obnoxiously intelligent teacher's assistant to brush up on your knowledge and skills... but he ends up being much different than you imagined.

Pairing: TA!Spencer Reid x Graduate Student Fem!Reader

Content Warning: 18+ Content (NSFW/NSFM) | Slow burn with eventual smut, angst, fluff, pining, sexual tension, office encounters, oral (f)

Word Count: 7.4k

This had to be the most mortifying experience of your life. You had never failed at anything before. Aside from negative lab results from the hospital, your record of passing tests and proving your competency in various areas has never been a problem. Academic accomplishment was your strong suit.

And now, you found yourself here.

In your professor's (who also happens to be the director of the entire program) office, along with his teaching assistant, who happened to be the most obnoxious man you'd ever encountered.

Even though he was only a teaching assistant, Professor Walters always made sure that we called him Doctor Reid since he already had two PhDs and was on his way to a third. He wasn't even a psychology student, he just picked up being the PSY745: Advanced Forensic Psychology TA for fun. Who does that? How was he even allowed to do that?

Those factors alone were enough to vex you, but the reasons just continued to pile up. His hair always being tucked behind his ears, the loose professional clothes swallowing his lanky body, the thick black framed glasses he would wear sporadically... but the absolute worst of all were the tangents.

Somehow, Dr. Reid always knew something about everything - and everything about that something. He would ramble on past the point of relevance, stating the most arbitrary statistics in the most interminable manner. You swear he rambled on last week for nearly an hour about the specific neurochemical indictors associated with criminal deviance. That was the only one you could recall the specifics of since it was slightly interesting and mildly related to the topic of the lecture... but still exasperating, nonetheless.

Now, you found yourself in a predicament stuck in the same room with him for an indeterminate amount of time. You hoped that Dr. Walters would take the lead on this very critical (and frankly, mortifying) conversation... but unsurprisingly, Dr. Reid opened his mouth first.

"Well, miss y/l/n," he started, propping his right ankle upon the opposite knee. "I assume you know why you're here?"

You fight the urge to roll your eyes and maintain professional, responding blankly, "Yes. I do. I made a C on my clinical interview at the men's correctional facility."

Dr. Walters chimed in, "Correct. I believe that you may benefit from some additional guidance before your next session. Until then, pending the results of that interview, you will be placed on remediation."

He was right. You had entered the interview room of the prison, something you had looked forward to accomplishing throughout your entire adult life, and completely froze. You couldn't figure out for the life of you why, whether it was realizing the heinous crimes of the man across from you or knowing that both the men who sat across from you now were standing behind the two-way mirror analyzing your every move. When you finally formed words, they were careless and disorganized, allowing the subject to completely take over the interview. It was humiliating... but this sit-down may be even worse.

"I think that would be very beneficial. Thank you, Dr. Walters," you say, swallowing your pride.

"Perfect. Up until your next interview, you will meet at least twice weekly with Dr. Reid," he states matter-of-factly.

There was no inquiry in his tone, no inflection requiring a response from you. It was set in stone. Dr. Reid was your new tutor for the next two and a half weeks. That meant 4 meets at the very least. But you had to agree as a compliance to your remediation. Your academic success was on the line, and that was a bigger disruption to your life than having to put up with Mr. Know-It-All a couple times a week.

"How does tomorrow at 8:30 work for you?" Dr. Reid asks, opening his leather bound planner.

"In the morning?" You raise your eyebrows, to which he responds with a nod. "On a Saturday?" Another nod.

Alright, you were convinced this man was truly insane. The delay in your speech caused him to tilt his head, signally for an answer. You had already planned a school work-free night of copious wine consumption with your roommate, but you decided you had nothing to lose in agreeing to meet sooner rather than later.

"I have a feeling you'll need some caffeine. Do you want to meet at The Roast?" he offered generously.

You hadn't expected him to care about how conscious you would be, since he had already suggested an early morning meeting on the weekend.

"I'll see you there," you agree, leading his pencil to jot down the information under tomorrow's date. "Thank you, again, Dr. Walters... Dr. Reid."

Your eyes meet for a moment longer then expected before you quickly gather your belongings and head out of the office.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The progressively louder beeps from your alarm woke you up with a jolt from your wine-induced slumber at 7:15 am. The first thing you noticed was the splitting headache spreading across your forehead and deep behind your temples. Probably not your best idea, but you weren't going to sacrifice plans you had already set in stone just for a good night's sleep before meeting with some overly intellectual teaching assistant.

You pop a few Tylenol and take a quick scalding hot shower, and the hangover begins to wear off. As you brush your teeth, you contemplate just showing up as you are - sweatpants and wild hair barely held back by your scrunchy, but you figure that may reflect just as poorly on your professionalism than failing your interview assignment. Plus, you know Dr. Reid will inevitably be dressed to the nines. He probably even expected you to show up looking slovenly. You decide to prove him wrong.

You sort through your closet in an attempt to find the most obnoxiously academic outfit you own. The typical black suit-white blouse combination that most forensics students donned was certainly not enough to prove your point. As you reach the end of your professional clothes, you see the perfect outfit: a pencil dark chocolate brown tartan skirt with a long sleeve cream mock-neck shirt. To finish the outfit off, you grab the matching blazer for the skirt, dark tights, and black chunky loafers.

You pulled your hair back so most of it was off of your neck and face, but a few wispy parts fell to the front before glancing down to check the time on your phone.

8:05 am. You can't believe you spent so much time searching for an outfit for your mandatory tutoring session - how embarrassing. You had to pick up your pace, the coffee shop was at least a fifteen minute walk and you sure as hell weren't going to be late. You were certain that Dr. Reid had already ordered some piping hot bitter black coffee and overanalyzed the room to choose the most ideal seating for optimal heat flow or something completely ridiculous like that.

You manage to throw together some light coverage makeup, swiping gel through your brows and managing to get one coat of mascara on before your stumbling out the door with your backpack swung over one shoulder.

The walk is chillier than you expect and for a moment you regret being bare legged in the middle of fall in New England, but the impact of the outfit would make up for bracing the frigid air.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

By the time you enter the coffee shop, your nose and cheeks are bright pink from cold and the heat inside was so warm it stung your skin. You pull out your phone to check the time just as your body fully passes through the doorway.

8:25 am. The cold had slowed you down a bit, but you were still technically early.

You scan the room and lock eyes with Dr. Reid in the corner booth diagonal from the doorway. His usually straight and studying stare was strangely one that seemed to be of concern, with furrowed brows and widened eyes. As you stride towards him, he suddenly stands up.

"This side is warmer, sit here," he says, gesturing to wear he had just been seated.

You give him a confused look. "No, Dr. Reid. That's alright, really."

"No, no, you look like you're freezing," he motions to the bench and places his hand on your back. "I insist."

You didn't feel like arguing, especially since all you could think about was getting off your feet - those loafers definitely weren't broken in all the way. Why did you care to impress him so much anyways?

You sit down and hand his briefcase off to him from across the table. He was right, though, this side was pretty cozy already.

"You haven't even ordered anything yet. What would you like?" Dr. Reid asks, moving his own cup across the table.

You catch a glimpse at the abbreviations on the side that translated to: 20 oz latte with two extra shots of espresso and - 6 packets of sugar? This man definitely wasn't the straight black coffee man you pinned him to be. He certainly needed the caffeine boost, but he needed enough sugar to kill a small animal in order to down it.

You glance up at him and his head is perched to the side, waiting for an answer to his inquiry.

"Uh - don't worry, I'll go grab something real quick!" You urge, fiddling through your backpack for your wallet.

"It's alright, let me get it. Something to make having to sit with me a little less miserable," he states, spitting the first self-deprecating and non-savant joke you'd heard him say. "What will it be?"

You manage to half-grin through your frozen cheeks, agreeing to his offer. "A hot dirty chai with oat milk would be perfect."

You swear you caught a smirk flash across his face before he turned and headed for the counter. You had never thought of Dr. Reid as being anything less than some kind of humanoid robot, but he was managing to quickly tear down that perspective. When he arrived back with your drink, he continued to deconstruct that idea entirely by a simple phrase.

"You can call me Spencer, by the way."

Spencer. You, of course, knew his first name couldn't possibly be "doctor" but there was never an inkling that he would be okay with you calling him anything but that title.

"Then you can call me y/n, not miss y/l/n," you respond teasingly, slipping the warm drink from his hand.

An embarrassed grin spreads across his lips. "Yeah, I'm sorry about all that. It's an old school formality that Dr. Walters insists upon. But here, I'm Spencer and you're y/n."

Something about the way he said your name made all of your cheeks radiate with heat, thankfully the wind-burn rash covered up the fact that you were blushing. That was even more embarrassing than spending a ridiculous amount of time on your outfit, especially since it seems to have had no influence on him whatsoever compared to the fact you looked frozen. Now he was making you blush, what the hell?

"So, what do you say we get to it?" Spencer inquires, opening up his briefcase to remove multiple books and a file with your name on it. "What has been giving you the most trouble?"

You down another sip of your tea before reaching into your backpack to remove your laptop. "Honestly, reviewing general interview skills would probably be beneficial."

He opened the black folder with your name on the front and shuffled through the stack of papers in its right pocket. Spencer pulls out numerous papers from various points in the stack and laid them out between the two of you. They were some of your verbatim transcriptions from your practice interviews from throughout your previous semester and current forensic psychology classes. Each had a red circled "A" on the top right-hand corner with various positive comments along the side.

"You know the content, y/n. You have the skills and you demonstrated them well when practicing with your peers. We can go over them again if you like, but I don't want to repeat things you already excel at," Spencer said matter-of-factly, pointing to the multiple successes spread in front of you.

You were silent for a moment, stunned that he had said you "excelled" and generally unsure of how to proceed. You couldn't admit to him that you had just become paralyzed as you entered the room. That you felt incapable and that your heart was beating a thousand times per second as soon as the door slammed shut behind you. The doubt permeated and transformed into anxiety, which completely ruined not only your confidence but now your competency level. You wanted, still, to prove yourself as capable and qualified in your pursuits.

Spencer eventually broke the silence, sensing your discomfort. He proceeded to go back over the basic intervention skills with you and pose a variety of practice questions for the next few hours until it was close to lunch time. He was right, it did feel repetitive and quite pointless, but if it helped you overcome the remediation period that's all that mattered.

As you wrapped up your first session together and headed for the door of the cafe, Spencer noticed how your face winced as the cold air hit your body.

"Let me drive you home, y/n," he insisted, adjusting the long strap that held his briefcase on his arm. "You were practically frozen when you came in this morning."

"The sun is out now, so it won't be as cold," you responded quickly.

He gave you a smug and perplexed look. "Don't be ridiculous. My car is right around the corner."

You gave in and walked beside him down the sidewalk, bundling your coat around you for warmth. Spencer eventually halted beside an old fashioned cream colored car and placed his keys in the passenger side door. Once unlocked, he opened the door and motioned for you to take a seat.

When you sat down you noticed the cool touch of the dark leather against the back of your thighs and a faint scent of bergamot and vanilla surrounded you. Soon, Spencer sat down beside you. The make of the car was so antique there was no console to separate your knees from accidentally bumping his.

"Where am I headed?" he asked, wrapping his long arm around the back of your seat to turn and look out the rearview window. That scent of warm bergamot and vanilla completely engulfed you as the space between the two of you was closed more than ever.

It takes you a moment to gather yourself and respond, "Uh - about 8 blocks that way. I live at the apartments off third."

He nods with understanding as he shifts gears and then proceeds to turn on the radio. The soft classical music made the silence of the short drive bearable.

As the car rolled to stop in front of your apartment building, you didn't expect Spencer to get out and open the door for you once again - but he did.

Almost simultaneously, you both reach towards the floor of the car to grab your backpack. You accidentally bump heads and find yourself nose to nose with your now not-so-annoying and kind-of-handsome teacher's assistant. For a moment, neither of you move or say a word. In fact, you try your best not to breathe too sharply. You lock eyes with Spencer and notice a fervor in his gaze that made your heartbeat begin to beat so hard that you swore that both of you could hear it.

Suddenly, he pulls away and stands parallel to the opened door. As you come out of the car and stand in front of him, he quickly states, "I'll email you... to set up our next session."

You can't ignore the tension and manage to crack a half smile in a failed attempt to break it.

"That sounds great. Thank you, again," you respond, swinging your backpack over your shoulder and stepping further onto the sidewalk.

Spencer's posture was like a stone wall and his sweet demeanor from earlier in your interactions suddenly formed back into that of a strict professional.

"You're welcome," was all he managed to spit out before abruptly closing the passenger side door and entering back into the car.

His sudden attitude shift was nerve-racking and even as he drove away, it left you dumbfounded standing beside your building's entryway. Was there something about being close to you that was truly that off putting? Self consciousness filled your mind as you considered the fact that maybe it was your breath or that you forgot to put on deodorant... but nothing seemed to make sense.

You tried your best to let it go as you walked the steps up to your apartment, but you found yourself growing more nervous for your next session than you were for your first - not because of academic stress, but because of the unpredictability and complexity of Dr. Spencer Reid.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

That Tuesday in class, Dr. Reid - Spencer - or whatever he wanted to be called at this point, avoided eye contact with you throughout the entire lecture. Even when he passed out a case vignette, he managed to dodge your gaze. It had been two days and obviously whatever it was that happened was still on his mind. He hadn't even emailed you about your next session yet and it was 10:00 am on the second day of the week - he's usually a Monday at 8:00 am kind of instructor. Shockingly, though, the remediation session concern was secondary in your mind to the fact that he seemed to actively attempt to evade you. Even after class, you went to speak with him at the lectern, but he seemed to rush out of the classroom with unorganized stacks of papers in his hand.

Fine, you thought. Office hours it is.

You didn't even bother to knock on his door before opening it swiftly. There he was behind a vintage wooden desk with a collection of papers skewed in front of him. He was studying them so intently it was almost as if he hadn't heard you enter at all, so you cleared your throat to get his attention.

When Spencer looked up and saw you, his eyes widened with surprise and what seemed to be a touch of anxiety. "Oh - y/n, hello. Wh-what can I do for you?" He shuffled the papers in front of him into a drawer quickly.

"Setting up our next session would be nice," you state matter-of-factly. He goes to open up his agenda as you continue. "And maybe an explanation to why you've been acting so strange with me."

His eyes dart up quickly and he adamantly protests, "I have no idea what you mean."

You place the heel of your palms on the edge of his desk and lean over closer towards him. "Well, you haven't emailed me -"

"I forgot."

"Forgot? Aren't you known for having an eidetic memory or something?" you respond in disbelief.

He has no rebuttal to that.

"You wouldn't look at me or even walk by me during lecture. And I had to chase you all the way to your office in order to speak to you at all," you say before flopping down onto the brown barrel chair across from his desk.

"I'm sorry," Spencer says, his head hanging low. "I've just had a lot on my mind... well, more than usual. Personal stuff. I should've been more accessible to you, I know that the remediation period is stressful enough already."

The apology and explanation seemed reasonable enough, so you dropped the subject and moved on to schedule your next meeting. Together, you agreed upon the meeting back in his office following day after your final lecture was over at 5:00 pm.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

5:00 pm rolled around and you found yourself alone in Spencer's office. He was always punctual without fail, but you didn't worry too much since he said he had a lot going on. You took the extra time to walk around the small area and look at all the little trinkets and decor he had set up. There were fossils, stacks of unfinished crosswords, and numerous books about a vast variety of subjects among so many other things.

You tried not to look at his desk, since you were certain there was confidential information about your peers, but your interest was piqued whenever you saw your name at the top of a piece of paper sticking out of the top left drawer. You quietly pulled it open a few more inches and fingered through the stack of paper. Each and every one read "y/l/n, y/n" somewhere on them. Your academic transcripts, your curriculum vitae, your personal statement, and multiple research papers were among the stack. You realized that the papers he had been studying so diligently yesterday were all of your documents. You were stunned and felt stuck in place, you didn't find it creepy but you did find it baffling.

Suddenly, the office door creaked and you practically jumped to sit down across from the desk. Spencer entered with a deep breath and walked past you to get to his seat, but his leg bumped into the still-open drawer on the way. You had to hold back from gasping and tried your best to regain your composure, acting as if you had seen nothing.

Spencer swiftly closed the drawer and walked back around towards you to sit on the edge of his desk. "I can explain," he said softly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you claim.

"Y/n, I know you saw them," Spencer sighed, crossing one of his ankles on top of the opposite thigh.

You didn't know how to respond or if you even could with the growing knot in your throat. His eyes surprisingly looked upon you gently, not the sharp angry gaze you expected to see.

"I - I didn't mean to pry," you managed to blurt out, shame causing your body to radiate with heat. "I'm sorry."

A scoff left his lips, "I'm the one that should be sorry. I didn't mean to pry either, I just - had to know more."

"About me?" you inquired, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

Spencer threw his head back and inhaled deeply before responding, "Yes. I guess I thought that going this avenue would keep it more professional than... personal."

"Personal?" you spouted another question since your brain could hardly compute the situation.

"I really enjoyed meeting with you the other day and...I guess I just wanted to learn more about you outside of academics," Spencer mumbled.

"Like as a friend?" you asked, attempting to clarify his motivations.

His tone suddenly jumped with alarming certainty as he responded, "Yes, yes! Like friendship."

The tension that was previously between the two of you had shifted to an uncertain resolve, but it was settled enough to feel less on edge and continue the session. Despite feeling less tense, you had to admit you were slightly disappointed that he didn't seem to have felt the same shock to the system that you did when you were so close just a few days earlier. As you studied techniques, common personality types of offenders, and assessed your interview transcript, you attempted to forget that feeling you had experienced and accept Spencer's offer of friendship - but he kept getting in the way.

He would use his long fingers to scan down sentence by sentence and would frequently bite down softly on his bottom lip when considering how to word certain critiques. Strands of Spencer's hair would fall in front of his glasses and you were so tempted to tuck it back behind his ears like he always had it. About halfway through the session, he rolled up the sleeves of his light blue horizontal striped shirt up to his elbows. You never thought that the mere exposure of someone's forearms could make you speechless, but his soft skin and slightly protruding veins did you in.

As you struggled to concentrate, you started to notice the silence. Spencer hadn't gone on any tangents, in fact he seemed not to say much more than what he had to... and surprisingly, you kind of missed it.

Before you could even think about the words leaving your lips, they fell out. "Could you - tell me more?"

"About predictors of criminal behavior?" Spencer perked up at the suggestion, continuing without a prompt. "Well, one of the most well known indicators of future criminal behavior is a diagnosis of a disruptive behavior disorder at a young age or antisocial personality disorder in young adulthood..." As he rambled on, he reached for a large academic book before leaning closer towards you as he flipped through the pages. Spencer continued to switch between verbatim recitation of text and numerous statistics. You couldn't help but stare at him, completely taken by his excess of knowledge and the way that the most elaborative words rolled of his tongue like they were the most common lay terms.

Spencer closed the book tight and locked eyes with your obvious gaze of adoration and he smirked. "Was that what you wanted?"

"Mhm - I mean, yes. Thank you," you said quietly, trying to ignore the heat radiating beneath your skin.

"I think this may be a good stopping point for this session," Spencer states, rising to stand in front of where you were still seated. "I'll see you in class on Monday, and how about another meeting afterwards?"

"Back here?" you ask, with hope he'll say yes.

He nods in agreement, with a tone slightly more suggestive than you expected. "Yes, back here. If that's alright with you."

"More than alright, that sounds perfect," you say as you gather your belongings before standing up to where the bodies were nearly touching. The tension was back again, but it wasn't that of uncertainty - rather of expectation.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Much unlike the week before, the following Monday's lecture was filled with your eyes meeting more often than they should. That may be attributed to the fact that you purposefully chose to wear another outfit that you hoped would grab his attention, making sure to provide plenty of layers so his concern about your body temperature didn’t get in the way. You opted to wear a heavier top than before, specially the most cozy, drop shoulder, cream sweater. You had an extra layer of warm on top with a bulky faux fur lined jacket and your bottom half covered with dark tights and an addition layer of a neutral brown thigh high stockings to accompany your loafers. The skirt you had selected was what you were beating real money on, though: a deep brown houndstooth print mini skirt. On top of it all, you decided to test out your rarely-worn-but-desperately-needed prescription glasses with a thin gold wire frame.

You weren’t able to pinpoint which part caught his attention most, but every time that Spencer would turn to speak to your side of the class and catch a glimpse of you, he began to uncharacteristically fumble over his words. When you bit the tip of your pencil to contain your laughter, it seemed to make his reaction even more unhinged.

As your cohort members shuffled out of the room to head to their inevitable hours of reading, Spencer followed, presumably to prepare himself better than your last encounter… or at least hide whatever sensitive information he had lying about.

When you arrived at his office, you suspicions were confirmed. Spencer had speed organized what he could within his office and certainly made sure to shut and lock all his desk drawers. He was sitting in his office chair with his lanky legs propped up on the corner of the desk, openly flipping through your file which was propped up in his lap.

“I thought you said you could just ask,” you teased, swinging your book bag into the spare chair.

Spencer shrugged and provided a sarcastic response, “But this is so much easier! Y/l/n, y/n: full ride scholarship for your undergraduate education, numerous scholarships and research grants, and absolutely glowing letters of recommendation from some of the leading members in the field of psychology. Impressive.”

“Yeah, none of that seems like something a friend would be interested in knowing unless they were some secret job interviewer,” you roll your eyes and snatch the file from his hand before dropping it on his desk. “What kind of information are you even trying to find? Because unless it’s academic, this file won’t get you anywhere.”

“That’s not exactly true, there is a section on your extracurricular activities,” Spencer responded adamantly.

You flash him an expression of exasperation before bending over to grab your materials from your backpack. When you did so, you heard a faint hitch in Spencer's breathing. As you turned back around, he still hadn't closed his mouth from gaping slightly and his eyes were still focused on your body.

You didn't know what to say, so you just asked, "Are you alright?"

That broke his trance and he came to the other side of his desk and suddenly put his hand on your waist, closing the space between you for the first time. You couldn't help but look up at him with wide and confused eyes.

"I want to know everything about you, y/n - what your favorite color is and what makes you tick, what makes this interview so hard for you, what you wear to sleep at night, how you feel... how you taste..." Spencer spoke lowly, his voice trailing off at the end.

The warmth of his body against yours and the words that he said left you dumbfounded, barely able to mutter, "T-that's a lot more than a friend would know."

"I know," he sighed, before leaning down to whisper in your ear. "I lied."

Chills went down your neck and you felt a simultaneous sense of relief and need permeate your entire body. You were afraid he hadn't noticed you the way that you had him, but apparently you had been very wrong. "Why - why didn't you just say that?"

"I privilege myself on being controlled... professional, but I just can't stand it anymore - not while you look so good in that skirt and you keep staring at me during class... biting that pencil, god."

"You stared first," you insist, but you are cut off by his massive hand on the side of your face pulling you to a passionate kiss.

"Shut up," Spencer says, pulling away breathlessly.

You tug him back down to your level by his tie and press your lips against his with even more force. Spencer's lips are incredibly soft and as they eventually part to involve his tongue in your kiss, a small moan falls from them. That sound was like music to your ears, motivating skillful and calculated movements from both of you. You ran your fingers through his luscious brown waves and latched on firmly, tugging to emit another faint groan. With that, his hand moved from your waist and down to your ass, gripping it firmly and massaging it in his hands.

"I think we'll have to reschedule your study session," he mumbled breathlessly before hoisting you up onto the clear edge of the desk and planting wet kisses along your neck. "We'll be a little preoccupied today."

You whimpered softly at the intoxicating feeling of Spencer gently sucking on the most tender parts of you neck. "I-I agree, Dr. Reid."

He hums against your neck and it reverberates down your spine, making your entire body more sensitive and a well of warmth grow in between your legs.

"The first time you came into lecture, you were wearing a skirt almost as short as this w-with your hair pulled back and these perfect pink lips. I wanted to j-jump you right then," he said pulling away from you for a moment, causing you to groan in disappointment at the lack of his touch. "Then you came into the cafe and I could've looked at you for ages if you hadn't been shivering. God, then you opened your mouth and the more you talked the less I could concentrate..."

You had a feeling he'd continue to go on and on if you didn't stop him, so you cut him off. "So, that's why you were acting so odd when you dropped me off."

"I was afraid I'd kiss you when we both reached for your bag, and then I knew I had to drive away quickly or else I'd try to convince you to let me come upstairs."

"Maybe I would've let you," you purred in his ear before lightly bringing his earlobe between your teeth. "And what would we have done?"

"I - I...," for the first time since you've known him, he could barely form words. "I would have touched you."

"How?" you inquire, smirking against his skin as you loosened his tie.

Spencer slowly untucked your sweater from your skirt and ran his cool hands up along your torso and up to cup your tender breasts. As he felt them full in the palm of his hand, Spencer couldn't help but mutter a few curse words under his breath. "L-like this."

You continued to work his tie off and unbutton his shirt as he shut his eyes in pleasure. "And where would I have touched you?" you ask, running your hands down to open his shirt, revealing soft skin and slightly defined abs.

Spencer took his free hand to guide one of yours down to the bulge that his black dress pants were concealing.

"Here," a moan huffed from his mouth, followed by a desperate "yes".

Spencer's IQ of 187 had reverted back to a brain filled with nothing but desire and his body full of the same aching need as yours, which became apparent as he rushed to lock his office door before stripping your sweater off. All he could do was stare down at your chest, now scattered with goosebumps and barely contained by your bra. Spencer was able to unclasp it in a less than a second and as you slouched it off the sudden temperature shift caused your nipples to become hard. He looked between your face and your breasts for a few moments, mouth gaping in disbelief before he enveloped one with his hand and the other with his mouth. Spencer swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud and twirled the other between his thumb and index finger, looking up at you with contentment in his golden brown eyes. The wetness between your thighs grew and the throbbing of want became excruciating.

Before you could consciously gather the words, they escaped you, “I need you, Spencer.”

“God, say my name again. Please,” he begged, kissing your rib cage.

You worked down your skirt and tights, kicking off your shoes as you went, leaving you standing before him in nothing but a pair of cheeky black panties. “Please, Spencer. Touch me here.”

He brought you in for a forceful kiss before dropping to his knees and bringing two fingers to press against the outside of your underwear. When he brought them back away, they were glistening lightly.

“I’m going to do more than touch you,” he growls, hooking his fingers on either side of your panties and pulling them down in one stride. “I’m going to taste you.”

Pushing you back onto his desk, Spencer pried open your legs to reveal the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Your pussy was already slick with wetness and your clit was swollen with need. He had the perfect view of it, your tits, and every facial expression you would make. Throwing your legs around his shoulders, he licked a stripe up your slit causing your toes to curl. He lapped at it skillfully and placed kisses along the lips before wrapping them around your throbbing clit and sucking softly. You couldn’t help but grab onto the desk edge and wrap your other hand through his hair in an attempt to contain your cries. Spencer soon brought two of his fingers to join, pumping in and out of you as he put his focus on your bundle of nerves.

“S-Spencer, if you keep going like this I’ll cum,” you whimper desperately.

He shook his head while still putting in the work. “No, no, y/n. The only place you’ll be coming tonight is on my cock.”

That nearly sent you over the edge, but he pulled away just before you hit your peak. You whined at the loss of contact, but quickly sat up to help him undo his belt and strip him of his black slacks. His heather gray boxer briefs were tented in the middle, barely containing his erection. You caught yourself licking your lips as you reached to stroke it gently before tugging down his underwear. When he sprung up in all his fullness, an audible gasp slipped from your mouth. You had considered what he looked like shirtless and maybe the fleeting thought of him naked, but you had never thought about how big he might be. Despite this, you had to admit that you were pleasantly surprised. Spencer's cock was long and hit just above his navel and he was girthy enough you were nervous that he may not fit, but you sure wanted to give it a try.

"How do you want me, Dr. Reid?" you query, looking up at him with suggestive eyes.

A low rumble came from Spencer's throat and he wrapped his arm around you to flip you over his wooden desk. A large hand squeezed your ass before parting to expose your core.

"Mmm, so wet for me," he grinned, rubbing the tip in between your folds.

The feeling was euphoric already and he hadn't even entered you yet. There wasn't anything on your mind except the overwhelming need for him and the fact that every touch felt like electricity.

"Please, more," you cry softly, looking back at him desperately and spreading your legs wider.

"Fuck - of course, angel. Anything you want," Spencer said fervently, slipping a new nickname for you just as smoothly as he entered you.

Inch by inch your walls stretched for him in a painful bliss that had your hands intertwined with his and hushed moans of passion filling the air surrounding you. By the time he bottomed out, your eyes were tearful and he had reached the crest of your cervix. It was unlike anything you had ever felt before, like someone was formed to fit into you perfectly and you never wanted him to leave. You both sat still for a moment, adjusting to the pressure, but Spencer gave the first stroke and you both crumbled.

The first few pumps were cautious, but they quickly devolved into uncontrolled sloppy thrusts. He threaded his lengthy fingers through your hair and lifted you up by it just enough that your head was off the desk. The rhythm he had taken on was perfect and the sensation of his thighs slapping against yours made it vibrate through your body. Uncharacteristic cuss words drabbled from his mouth and primal whimpers for more flowed from yours. He was hitting every spot just right, not slamming into your cervix but tapping it just enough that you felt it in your stomach.

"Rub your clit, angel," Spencer demanded. "I-I don't have enough hands, please. I want you to feel good."

"I feel more than good already, but -," you reached down between your legs and began to rub your clit in figure eights, causing your words to trail off into meaningless mumbles.

His pace became steady as he found a spot that he realized made your toes curl. The combination of the hair pulling, perfect placement, and clitoral stimulation you found yourself quickly back on the edge of a climax. Pressure built in your abdomen and your leg muscles began to tense up. Apparently, he felt it, too, as your walls contracted around him causing him to moan your name breathlessly.

"Spence, I - I'm going to cum," you whimper, your finger movements becoming more rapid.

"Y/n, I'm begging - please cum on my cock," Spencer cried, the sense of desperation in his voice real and adamant. "Please please please,"

His begs motivated your climax to roll through you, causing your fingertips to become soaked and your cum to coat his cock along with your wetness. "S-Spence, baby - I want your cum inside me."

He thrusted into you deeply and a guttural groan escaped him. "Fuck, angel. Are you sure?"

With what little strength you had left you nodded vehemently, "I-I'm on the pill, I never miss a day. Please, sir."

You believe the "sir" is what did him in, slamming into you only four more times before coming undone. The feeling of his cock twitching inside of you and his cum filling you completely was one that admittedly made you feel feral and powerful. The noises that escaped him were irrepressible and the grip he had on your ass was as well. Even after he was finished, he held on tightly for a few seconds before slowly pulling out... but you still felt so full of him.

"You know," Spencer said. "I'm not really the make love and leave kind of guy."

"So is that what we did - make love?" you approach him and press a small teasing peck on his lips.

He smirks down at you, "You know that wasn't just some regular fuck."

"Mmm," you hummed. "Now, that is very true. So, what are you suggesting?"

"Would you want to come back to my place and... spend the night?" he suggests, a tone of shyness in his voice.

You don't even consider the alternative before agreeing and wrapping your arms around his neck for a long kiss.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"You know," Spencer starts, handing you a mug full of chamomile tea. "It's a real shame I won't get to grade your papers anymore. I always enjoyed reading your perspectives."

You sip on the cup and prop yourself up on a pillow. "Well, maybe if you're lucky I'll let you proofread them."

Spencer crawls in bed beside you, wrapping his arm around your upper body to pull you closer to him. "I think I might have figured out what was making you so nervous during your interview," he said.

"And what is that?" you inquire.

"Well, self-doubt for one. Even though, like I said before, you know the content like the back of your hand. But I think the main part was the fact that you were being observed."

"You think I'm afraid of Dr. Walters and you," you scoff, sitting the tea on the bedside table.

"Afraid isn't quite the word, intimidated maybe? I mean we don't appear to be the most approachable pair. Walters never shows emotion and is known for being a tough professor, and I'm -," he says before you cut him off.

"Obnoxiously intelligent with nearly three doctorate degrees?"

"Obnoxious?" He scoffs with a sarcastic tone. "Thanks for letting me know how you really feel."

You roll your eyes, "Yes, obnoxious. If you hadn't been so approachable during our first session I would have continued to think that you were a strict academic who didn't know how to let loose and have some fun."

"Ouch!" Spencer clutched at his heart. "Well, I sure proved you wrong today."

"That you did, Spence," you kiss his cheek. "And fine, maybe you're right - most of my nerves were probably tied to the fact that I was intimidated by your very serious demeanors."

"I like it when you call me that." You were surprised he had seemed to ignore the other half of your statement.

"What? Spence?" you ask, cuddling close to his chest.

"Yes," he responds, and you hear his heart skip a beat. "I don't think anyone's ever called me that before."

"No one has ever called me angel before either," you say, drawing a line down the valley of his chest.

"Well, I think you'll do wonderfully on your remediation interview, angel," Spencer states, bringing your hand up to place a kiss upon it.

You snuggle closer, engulfed in his warmth and the scent of spiced vanilla. "I think so, too. I'm way more comfortable with the content... and my assessors."

please feel free to request! (or let me know what you think!)

[vibratingskull]

You reopen your request! You must be drowning with requests.

Can I ask for Thrawn xF!reader.

Reader Is born mute, and because of their she had been tormented by her father for a very long time, and because of this she doesn't trust men.

Thrawn falls in love with her and gains her trust, helping her heal. Maybe eventually smut?or just some fluff?

I do have a good number of them indeed ! I will do my best to honor them all!

Thrawn x F!reader

Tags : Non-speaking reader, abusive and violent past, little hurt/a lot of comfort, tooth rotting fluff

You recoil in fear... 

You can hear the footsteps approaching and the sound of the belt. You can still feel its bites on your skin the last time he used it! You cover your ears, knee pressed against your chest, trying to squeeze in your hiding spot. 

If only you could scream and alert the neighbors... 

“I know you are hiding around here (Y/n). If you go out now I promise not to be too harsh on you...” Your father calls walking in the room you are in. 

Don’t open the closet. Don’t open the closet. Don’t open the clos- 

“There you are you useless little...!” 

You wake up in a split second, breathless and sweating. 

Another nightmare... 

You sigh, they have been recurrent lately. It’s the stress. You are in a new campaign with new enemies. New battlefields and risk of dying... 

But you knew what you signed up for by enlisting in the Navy, trying to escape your violent father. But he kept following you in your dreams. 

You rise from your bed. It is not time for your shift but you won’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night. Might as well rise early. 

Grand Admiral Thrawn asked your help for a task anyway... 

----------------------------------------------------  

You focus on your datapad. 

This art piece should go in this section, while this one goes there... 

Your mind is focused on your task, categorizing art pieces for Grand Admiral Thrawn for his next campaign. Usually, he does it himself but he picked up on your knowledge of the region’s art and asked you for help. 

You don’t mind, it’s easy for you. 

His art collection has extended lately, a lot of presents and auctions won. But mostly a lot of holographic ones that you need to categorize by species, civilizations, time periods, and planets. 

“A cup of caff, Senior Lieutenant?” A melodious voice rises behind your back making you jump. 

Thrawn appears slightly amused by your reaction. When did he enter the storage room? 

“You should learn to focus without sacrificing your awareness of your surroundings, (F/n).” He preaches, handing you a fuming cup. 

Oh... That is nice of him to bring you a hot drink. You take the cup, bowing down your head in gratitude. You lift the cup to your lips, black with the lightest touch of sweetener as you love it. 

“While you are here, Senior Lieutenant, I need your expertise on some signs I learned recently.” He asks, his amused expression letting place to his professional demeanor. 

One thing you are grateful for is that Grand Admiral Thrawn is actually taking the time to learn sign language. You do not always have the occasion or the time to type your words in your datapad to express yourself and he started learning to understand your signing. 

Until now he was the only one to do it. 

“What does this sign signify?” He asks, signing. 

You take your datapad and type something on it, and a mechanical voice rises from the speakers. 

 [Iridescent] 

He signs another one. 

You frown, wrinkling your nose. 

[You are a pagoda?] 

He modifies his sign. You smile, understanding what he means. 

[Assertion] 

He nods, satisfied with the addition to his vocabulary.  

Every day he takes an hour off his packed schedule to describe some art pieces to you to practice his signing and you correct him, showing him the good signs or formulation. He made spectacular progress in very little time, sometimes signing entire conversations with you while speaking the words out loud. You spent a lot of time discussing art and enjoying virtual expositions during some of his really rare times off. 

Art is one of the only comforts you had for decades and discovering that your Grand Admiral shared your admiration really helped you relax around him. 

Because Marker’s know how distrusting of men you are... 

You sign ‘Thank you.’ 

“Why?” He tilts his head. 

‘For learning the language, little people bother with it.’ 

“I need to be able to communicate with all of my officers at any given time. And a new language, whatever it is, is always useful.” He speaks and signs. 

You nod with a thankful smile. 

You quite like this man. 

He is one of the very, very few you are comfortable with. 

But since Commander Vanto disappeared out of nowhere, everyone has been on edge. You too, to be frank, but you were more worried about your reckless colleagues than the Grand Admiral. A lot were prone to judge him guilty for that disappearance, that he executed Vanto in some way... 

To you, it didn’t make any sense.  

At the depth of your being you know Vanto found his path and Thrawn didn’t endanger the life of his commander! 

But that’s just a you thing, no one would take you seriously here. 

You look up at Grand Admiral Thrawn, looking at his datapad, sorting his own list of art. He looks nothing like your tormentor, so much so that you have difficulties imagining them being part of the same category of person. 

Your father was an Army officer and wanted a son. 

But he got a non-speaking daughter. 

And you pay the price since then... 

You thought that going into the Navy he would look at you with pride for the first time in your life. 

No. 

To him, you were only good to marry off. 

So you packed and left. He didn’t try to stop you.  

You have been wary of any male approaching you since then. From the brutes to the ones aroused by your speech impairment you navigate life avoiding men and problems. Of course, once on an Imperial ship, you could never truly avoid them. Thanks to the Maker men's and women’s quarters are separated. Even today your two other roommates are women and you are thankful for that. 

“A problem, Senior Lieutenant (F/n)?” Thrawn’s voice resonates in the room. 

You blink, realizing that he is looking at you and that you are still fixing him intently. He must have felt your gaze on him. You shake your head and sign ‘Nothing’ and ‘Sorry.’ 

His gaze is clear and inquisitive, gauging you up and down. 

“All is well.” He answers enigmatically. 

He is aloof and professional as always but you don’t feel him... displeased? Like he truly is unbothered. You lower your gaze to your screen, he is patient with you but no need to push his buttons uselessly! 

“I did not expect to see you this early.” He continues mundanely, focused on the hologram projected on his screen “Your shift is not supposed to start before four hours, why sacrificing your sleep?” 

You breathe deeply and type on your datapad. 

[Nightmares] 

His gaze travels from his datapad to you, looking deep into your soul with his burning gaze. His face is neutral but a flicker of emotions seems to flash in his gaze before disappearing just as quickly. 

“I understand.” He nods with a grave expression. “We are all grappling with our demons, you are not alone with fears.” 

Is he... trying to comfort you? Why would he do that? 

[Do you have nightmares too, Grand Admiral Thrawn?] You cannot help but ask. 

He seems to think about it for a little moment. For a second you are afraid he will take offense to you prying into his personal life, 

“In some ways. I can have unpleasant dreams like everyone else. This is the lot of warriors and those who set high goals for themself.” He finally responds with a focused tone. 

Oh... So a man like Thrawn can also have nightmares? You would have never guessed that, he always appears so in control and... peaceful in some ways. Nothing ever comes troubling the inner balance of this man. 

[How do you deal with nightmares when they become too much?] You ask full of hope for advice on how to let them consume you entirely. 

“They never become too much. I never let irrational dreams hinder me in any way, those are simple remnants of your subconscious rising to the surface. No need to dwell on them unnecessarily, you only need a sharp mind to pursue your goals and mission.” He answers resolutely. 

Oh... 

Okay... 

Not exactly the answer you hoped for. For some reason, you hoped he would reveal he does get affected by nightmares and would sympathize with you. But apparently, nothing can reach that man. 

You sulk, feeling hopeless against the anxiety in your veins and the bad dreams plaguing your mind. 

Thrawn notices. 

“Nightmares are only figments of thoughts, they cannot harm you Senior Lieutenant. Do not give them the power to dictate your actions. You will find the strength to surpass them.” He tries, laying his hand on your shoulder. 

This simple touch sends shivers down your spine, forcing the memory of your father’s hand on your skin, the bites of his knuckles on your fragile body. By pure reflex you slap his hand away, looking at him furiously. 

Until the realization of your error flashes in your mind. What did you just do?! 

Thrawn’s eyes flicker with surprise at your harsh reaction to his attempt to comfort you. But his aloof expression is back in a mere millisecond. 

“Apologies, Senior Lieutenant (F/n). I did not want to make you uncomfortable. I trespassed my rights.” 

You immediately shake your head in a panic, signing ‘Sorry’ multiple times. Fuck! What if he takes it badly? What if he gets angry? What if he decides to punish you? What if- 

“There is no harm, (F/n). Everything is all right.” He informs you as you kept signing your apologies.  

You raise your gaze to meet his, seeing he appears sincere, that he truly is not mad at you. You tentatively nod at him, trembling as fear slowly settles down away.  

He looks at you intently, with his piercing red gaze that ties your stomach in knots. Your mouth stretches in a single thin line, awaiting your judgment. 

“I will let you work in peace. Thank you for your help.” He courteously bows his head to you and leaves you alone to get a grip of yourself and calm down your anxiety. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“Fancy finding someone here.” A deep melodious voice rose in the silence of the gallery. 

Your breath got stuck in your throat. You who came hiding in the art gallery of the hotel to avoid guests, here’s one now! A man... You tried to calm down your heart. 

It was one of your first official military parties as a Junior Lieutenant, and there was a lot of top hats here. A lot of ego and loud voices, unconsidering and detached from the common experience. You preferred to take refuge in the adjacent art gallery for peace and quiet. 

You turned your head to observe the new visitor and gauge his intention. You discover a blue alien in an admiral regalia, a glass of champagne in his hand. You tilted your head in surprise, an alien officer of the Empire? 

You never heard of such a thing... 

Except for one person. 

The blue alien approaches you, his gaze traveling to the immense canvas you were observing. His sharp cheekbones drew haughty features and the light accentuated the edges of his symmetrical face. His eyes are of a deep, burning red emitting a glow in the dim light.  

You dug your nails in your arm and lowered your gaze as he placed himself next to you to better observe the canvas. He remains silent, looking into the details of the painting with a carefully fascinated expression. 

“It is quite rare to encounter art enjoyers in those soirees, do you not think?” He addressed you again, “I did not expect someone else preferring the peace of the art gallery to the discussions and dances of the ballroom.” 

You risk a glance at him. It must be him. 

Admiral Thrawn. 

“I am sorry if I disrupted your peace. I will leave you undisturbed to appreciate the paintings if you prefer.”He proposes before your resounding silence. 

Honestly? Yes, you would prefer. You’re never really at peace alone with a man, but he is clearly an admiral and you are a simple Junior Lieutenant. If he ever catches your name and speaks of the fact that you refused to humor him, it could go bad for you. 

[It is alright. You can stay, Admiral.] You type on your datapad. 

His gaze lowers to your datapad with an interested gaze. 

“Fascinating. Can it mimic inflections and emotions?” He asked. 

You typed a random phrase and chose the laugh setting. The robotic voice exploded laughing, repeating your words, making the Admiral tilt his head, curious. 

“Interesting. This is quite ingenious, is it used a lot in the impaired-speech community?” 

You shake your head. 

“Will you allow me a quick glance?” He asks softly. 

You froze for a split second. This software is your buoy to communicate. Almost nobody knows sign language, especially in those settings. You held down your datapad before forcing yourself to lend it to him. 

He is an Admiral and you... 

He gently took it and started scrolling down the software, tampering with it. You gulp as he tested and observed your little software. 

“It seems well built. How much time did it take you to code it” He turned back his head to you. 

How did he know you coded it yourself? You frowned incredulously by reflex. 

“You seem a talented coder, ma’am. I could use someone of your talents at my side.” He gives you back your datapad. 

You feel your skin heating up. You’re not used to compliments. 

[It is nothing too complicated really.] 

“To you maybe, but for some other people coding is as nebulous as the never-ending universe. Did you code something else?” 

You slowly nodded. You did know your way around coding and liked tampering with your electronic toys when you started to get really interested in it. 

[I slightly improved the machinery of my father’s squad. Like canon sights, but nothing groundbreaking.] 

“Really? What do you think of the current programming of tie fighters?”  

What would he want to know your opinion on that? You’re a nobody. 

[I would have done things differently.] 

“I agree.” He nodded solemnly, “I am more of an amateur engineer than a coder but I have projects for a new kind of TIE fighter to propel the Navy’s fleet towards new heights. I am searching the galaxy for new talents to help me. If you allow me to test and judge your level would you be interested in participating in a military revolution?” 

Was this man for real? You just entered your post a Senior Lieutenant and he jumps on you to propose you a new post? 

[I just received my new affectation. I cannot just go against the Navy’s wishes and ask to change like that.] 

“Of course. But if an admiral personally asks for your affectation to change, the Navy would probably oblige.” 

You almost took a step back. 

You know the reputation of this man. A genius in battle but a complete clown in politics, you heard he recently allied himself with the likes of Governor Price and rumors circulate that he invited a witch in his fleet? 

He seemed quite the character and you had enough of those types of people in your life. 

On the other hand, coding is your passion. Maybe a post dedicated to coding wan’t that bad? 

|How would it go?] 

“Simple. Your task would be to rewrite the pre-existing TIE code to sharpen it. You will have your own space on the ISD to test and modify the ships to your heart’s content. I will only ask you to follow my directives. 

Your own space? Like... Away from other people? You being alone and free to give yourself fully to coding all day long? You being away from other’s peskiness and sharp-tongues? 

That does sound enticing. 

[I will think about it.] 

“I thank you for considering my offer.” He extended his hand again, “I am Admiral Thrawn.” 

You shook his hand after a hesitation, resisting the shudder coursing your body as your hands touched. 

[Junior Lieutenant (Y/n) (F/n).] You typed. 

He nodded a slight expression of satisfaction starting to paint on his face. 

“I am pleased to have crossed your path tonight, Junior Lieutenant. I hope this is the beginning of a fruitful relationship.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

“Will you come to my suite tonight, Junior Lieutenant (F/n)?” Thrawn asks. 

He observes as you almost choke hearing that proposition. He knows this is quite forward of him. He doesn’t leave you guessing for long. 

“I recently acquired new pieces for my private collection, and I recall you especially enjoying this period in art history. We could discuss those pieces peacefully together.” 

Usually, your daily art talk happens in his office or around a cup of caff at the mess hall when he, rarely, descends to that room. 

“I received a particular mirror that I think will especially flatter your taste, I am curious to know your opinion on it.” He pursues. 

You nod with a small smile, visibly relieved and now interested before typing on your datapad. 

[Of course Grand Admiral, I always enjoy talking art with you.] 

“I am glad to hear it. I will not take too much of your time, do not worry.” He nods with a slightly satisfied expression. 

As he awaits for you he tidies up his salon, displaying his latest acquisitions on pedestals. Those pieces are not for war but his personal enjoyment, and yours too he hopes. His heart clenches slightly at the thought of you joining him tonight. 

He always had immense respect for your coding abilities. You spoke of it like it was nothing but he discovered you had a real talent for it, a natural jewel that he helped carve and sharpen since the first day he found it in you. He absolutely needed you on his team and congratulated himself when you announced to him you would join him in this adventure. And since that day your presence in the team only has been beneficial. 

He never had to complain about you. 

You worked diligently, for long hours and found the solution to most problems he threw at you. You even helped Vanto build a better Excel sheet software in your free time after you witnessed him losing his mind on the older version.  Thrawn and Eli took the liberty to train their supply officers and data analysts with it and witnessed progress in productivity and speed by 20%. 

And those 20% can be crucial during battles... 

You received a reward of course! All people improving his ISD deserve a high reward for their deeds. 

You are an invaluable member of Thrawn’s team, even of his close circle, even if he didn’t realize it right away and you never realized it ever. 

But it is true. 

He sees you as a true friend. You bring him so much in work and share his passion for art, something he is grateful for. 

People never understood him on this level, and in some aspects, you don’t either. Your talents lie somewhere else than military strategizing, but your common passion allows him to stim off and share his special interest with someone actually interested. 

Vanto could never, despite all his will, understand. As Thrawn never understood numbers like he did. 

This is why he is also deeply happy to have you around. To share and receive in art. It allowed him to communicate better about his ideas and strategies. 

When he thinks back that he almost decided not to come to that party... He only came because he learned the hotel had a small art gallery and he discovered a young lady in a fine dress, eyes glued to the painting in front of her. 

He almost didn’t dare enter to disturb your moment. He understood the pleasure of being alone in a gallery to observe art on your terms. But the urge to share proved itself stronger and he entered the room. 

He just wanted to speak about art with another aficionado and he left with a little genius coder in his team. 

He saw how uncomfortable you were around him and didn't want to impose himself too much. Once you exchanged names and numbers he left you in peace. He didn’t get to enjoy the gallery himself but he came out better off after this exchange. 

He welcomed you to his ISD three months later for the tests and you walked out victorious. You changed affectation and joined the Chimaera two weeks top after that. 

He quickly picked up on your shy, or rather cautious nature around others, especially males and him. It was not his place to question you, all he could do was to remain polite, courteous, and professional to make things more comfortable for the both of you. 

You saw each other at least one time a day for him to learn to sign and talk about art. You have quite an extensive knowledge about art and he was truly impressed. You taught him a lot about certain regions he didn’t have the time to visit and he learned a lot at your side, as you learned a lot at his side. 

A truly beneficial relationship. 

You slowly relaxed around him, getting less jumpy and stressed in his presence, to the point that sometimes you seemed to forget his presence when you focused on something. You never forgot any other male presence, always having an eye on them. 

But not him. 

Not anymore. 

And that strangely delighted him. He doesn’t know why. He is just pleased by that fact, he takes some pride in it. He always prided himself in the fact to be safe for women to be around, when he thinks about all the things men do to women daily, he feels like being a decent person really shouldn’t be that hard and not such a high demand. He always appreciated the trust his female friends and colleagues had in him, and he just wanted you to feel the same. 

For you to not see him as any kind of predator. 

A tight smile comes stretch his mouth as he thinks back about the number of times he had to carry you to your cabin. How many times did he came to visit your office to witness your advancement to discover you sleeping on your desk after an obvious night crush? He took your precious datapad and carried you to your bed. 

You never knew about that. 

And he doesn’t really intend to tell you, as long as you rest that beautiful brain of yours to come back fresh the next day he can carry you to bed without a fuss. 

He signals the droid to leave the champagne bottle in the ice bucket and on the coffee table. He remembers Ar’alani complaining about the lack of drinks when he brought her to the art gallery. You will not have to complain about that when admiring his personal museum. 

He is strangely excited by that prospect, his heart beats strangely fast at the idea of letting you see his personal collection. He never shared it with anyone else, he feels like metaphorically stripping naked before you. 

Overall he just hopes you will have a nice time. 

With him. 

He checks his display one last time. He gave the mirror he thinks you’ll love a special place, well visible and under a beautiful light. 

[Grand Admiral Thrawn?] a mechanical voice he learned to love rises in his back. 

He turns, his hand clasped behind his back, a small smile to welcome you. 

“Ah! Senior Lieutenant, right on time as always. Please approach, I have several pieces for you to see.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------- 

You were a little bit nervous about the idea of joining Thrawn in his suite, but he promised it was about art so you came.  

But until now he hasn’t been anything else but courteous and professional with you, never an inappropriate move or word, always respectful of our personal space and headspace. 

You realized recently that you actually quite like him. He is quite a gentleman all things considered. 

Nothing like your father... 

Right now he stands next to you, at a respectable distance, to explain a statuette to you. 

“It is a goddess of love and fertility of the Lokma region. A fine work isn’t it?” 

You nod enthusiastically. It is indeed a very beautiful statuette, well-carved and polished.  

You’re quite happy the Grand Admiral appreciates art as you do. You used to bury yourself in art books to escape your violent reality back home. Nobody liked art at home especially not your father. You had to hide all those books from his view or he would burn them before you. 

But Grand Admiral Thrawn is a man of elegance and taste, enjoying art as a real connoisseur. His knowledge of the subject would put any encyclopedia to shame! 

You reacted badly last time but you had time to rationalize that he simply tried to comfort you. You clearly overreacted. He had no bad intentions towards you, quite the contrary. 

You look up to him, explaining the origin of the sculpture to you with a light smile floating on your lips. 

------------------------------------------------------- 

His heart is beating so fast. You are looking straight at him, smiling so genuinely. He could almost lose track of what he is saying if dared look into your eyes.  

So he remains focused on the art piece, to not start stammering in front of you. 

He doesn’t know how it happened but you both end up on the couch, drinking champagne and chit-chatting about everything and nothing. Right now you are trying to keep a straight face as he retells his political mishaps. It is no news to anybody that he is a clown in this department, but he never took the time to explain the finer details to someone and you have difficulties not exploding laughing. 

Obviously, no sound escapes your lips but the simple expression, how you try to contain your stretching smile to grow too much, how your dimples appear on your skin, how you bite your lower lips to control yourself, how utterly relaxed you appear... 

He details this spectacle, absolutely fascinated. He saw plenty of people laugh before but none appeared as... Radiant as you are right now. You are just so solar and magnetic with this elated expression. 

For some reason, his throat goes dry when his gaze lends on your lips. They are plump and carefully drawn with a pencil of color in nude tones, adorning your mouth deliciously. He fights the urge to lick his own lips at that sight. 

And your eyes... 

Utterly gorgeous. 

They can say everything your vocal cords cannot. They are just expressive, there is no second-guessing your mood or character, he just has to look into your sparkly eyes and unravel your entire being before him. 

It is not that you are easy to guess, it is that your body is so completely honest with him, he doesn’t need to walk on eggshells like with the Emperor or any political figures, with you he can act and feel like himself. 

Something that hasn’t happened since... 

Forever. 

In fact. 

He always had to mask a part of himself to go his own way peacefully but he feels like he can open up to you. 

That you wouldn’t judge. 

That you would understand him, like Thrass did. 

But he never looked at Thrass like that. He always was his brother but you are no Chiss. Is he looking at you as a sister...? 

No... that doesn’t sound right to him. 

Like a friend perhaps, like Ar’alani? 

Neither... 

He tilts his head as he watches you retelling him one of your stories with signs, a large smile on your beautiful face. 

Because you do have a beautiful face, he realizes. Very symmetrical and... harmonious. It is a weird thought crossing his mind, he met plenty of objectively beautiful people in his life and he was able to tell that they were handsome but he never knew it in his gut. Just a passive acknowledgment of their well-made features. 

But you are the first one striking him as truly gorgeous. His eyes seem to open up for the very first time and he is discovering true beauty. 

What curious train of thoughts he has right now, observing you hiding your elated expression behind your hand. 

He loves that expression, it suits you so much better than this worried, tense one you always were around your colleagues or that you had with him at first. 

He had the occasion to witness different facets of your personality while learning sign language, but it feels like meeting the true you for the first time. You have so many things to say you don’t lose time typing it on your datapad, you just sign everything at lightspeed with enthusiasm. 

Such a wonderful expression... 

He wants to get lost in your eyes. 

He wants you to smile more, to smile everyday. 

His breath gets stuck in his throat as he realizes he wants to be the reason for your smile. Every day and forever. 

Is he...? 

He has to know! 

He details your blissful expression while decoding your signing. He doesn’t get everything but he knows the important one. You are telling him that you love working on this project, that you feel useful and part of a real team thanks to him, and that he doesn’t reject you for being non-speaking but that he makes true efforts to involve and welcomes you. 

“That is nothing, Senior Lieutenant.” A small grin grows on his lips, “You are too valuable for me to lose. I must make sure you are well cared for or you will leave me for greener lands.” 

You bite your lips, lowering your gaze before the compliment. How adorable. 

“Since you entered the project we made fantastic advancements. You wrote an almost perfect code and still keep working to improve it days and nights. We would not have gone so far without your input.” 

Your face heat signals worsen, proof of your embarrassment. You sign ‘It is nothing’ without daring to look at him.  

He leaves his slouching position to lean forward,  closer to you, legs almost brushing. 

“It is not ‘nothing’ as you pretend (Y/n). This is incredible work and you should be properly recognized and rewarded for that.” He ditch the ranks for a more warm approach. 

You seem a little confused by the sudden use of your name so casually. 

“Does it displease you?” He asks. 

‘What?’ you sign, dubious. 

“Me, using your name. I quite like it, you wear it perfectly.” 

You smile, embarrassed. 

“I am not joking. It has a wonderful sound to it, it suits you wonderfully.” 

You push a strand of hair behind your ear to try to put up a front, but your heat signals are all over the place. You are very obviously melting. 

On his hand, he realizes he enjoys complimenting you. It feels right to do it. For absolutely nothing too. For you just being here, for your hair style that enhances your natural charm, this absolutely adorable behavior, the list is infinite! 

For you to keep that endearing look too. 

He gently raises his hand towards you, slowly for you to see it and stop him if needs be. You look at him with round eyes and freeze entirely. He incredibly gently brushes your cheek with his knuckle. 

A very soft, very light touch. He’s just testing the water, where you will put your boundaries. 

You seem to release your breath when you realize he didn’t intend to hit you. 

Why would you ever think that? He wonders. 

What happened to you to always live in a fight or flight mode? He is dying to know, but that would be improper to pry. If you want him to know, you will reveal it in due time. 

You blink several times as he resumes his gentle caress, like you don’t know how to react to tenderness. He couldn’t know either, to be honest. He just felt like giving you physical affection was the right call.  

You are so pretty after all tonight, he needs to physically convey the tenderness he harbors towards you. Or he feels like he is going to implose or spontaneously combust. 

"You are beautiful, (Y/n).” He simply lets you know his truth in a whisper. 

You turn your head to avoid his gaze like it is too much. Your face heat signals are the worst they ever have been he notices.  

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asks softly, “Would you prefer if I stopped?” ��

You go to type something on your datapad but stop mid-movement before putting it on the coffee table and spin away from him. He listens carefully. No sobs can be heard, to his relief. 

“I am sorry if I was too forward, (Y/n).” He presents his excuses, “But I find myself in a weird head space tonight.” 

You slightly turn your head towards him. Not enough for him to see your face, just enough to signify that you are listening. 

He gently caresses your arm, avoiding pressing himself against you to leave you your space. 

“(Y/n), I will not try anything you will not allow me to. I just want you to look at me.” 

You shake your head, pressing your knees against your chest, boots on the expensive sofa. 

“(Y/n), please do not deprive me of your sight.” He breathes, getting slightly desperate as you disposess him of your beautiful gaze “I am confused and need to know. Only you can help me. Look at me, my friend.” 

This is the first time he calls you friend out loud and it doesn't feel stong enough for his feelings. 

Is he really...? 

“I need your help. Just this time, will you allow it?” He asks. “Let me look at you.” 

His hand gently grasps your chin to invite you to turn to him, he does it softly, if you truly don't want it he will let you escape no question asked.  

But you do turn towards him, eyes wet and glistening but without tears rolling down your cheeks. He releases your chin to gently cup your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. 

“You are beauty incarnated.” He murmurs like he cannot believe you are in front of him, “I need only one thing and I will let you in peace. Will you allow me?” 

He lets your hands free for you to sign but you just gulp and tentatively nod. You are clearly unsure but are ready to let him try whatever he has in mind? 

But he doesn’t want to force you, your consent is the most important thing to him at this instant. 

“I am about to kiss you. Will you allow it?” He looks straight into your soul through your eyes. 

Your breath gets visibly stuck in your throat and your eyes get rounder. He keeps caressing your cheek gently, ready to face your rejection. 

But you remain mute, not signing, nor shaking your head to escape him. You just look at him like you cannot believe you heard him right. 

“I need your consent to continue.” He insists. 

Your throat contracts as you dig your nails into the fabric of your pants.  

Finally, you sign something. 

‘Why?’ 

He cannot help a light chuckle escaping him. Is it that hard to imagine? 

“I want to make sure if I am in love or not.” He very clearly explains, no sugarcoating it. 

You appear even more lost. 

‘Why?’ 

“Why would I be in love with you?” He tilts his head like your question didn’t make any sense, “You have plenty of qualities and virtues, why would you not be loved by others? Why would I not love you?” 

Your face in no more but a deeply red spot in his infrared vision. 

“What about you, (Y/n)? What are your sentiments? Do you feel something or am I alone in the storm?”  

You try to sign something but your hands tremble so much your signs are unrecognizable. 

He gently kisses your forehead before looking back into your gorgeous eyes. 

“I only ask for one kiss to settle everything once and for all. Do I have your permission?” 

You gulp before weakly nodding. You appear so tense, are you that estranged to tenderness? That pains him immensely, whatever comes out of that kiss he wants you comfortable and feeling safe at his side. 

He slowly leans forward, leaving you time to dodge if you change your mind. You close your eyes shut like you can’t face him right this instant but let him do. He gently closes the gap and softly kisses your lips. 

This is soft and light. 

But he feels a firework lighting in his chest, his heart beating at lightspeed, pumping his blood like a machine. He feels his very soul rejoice and sing blissed verses. This chast kiss sends fire to his very being. 

Not a lustful fire but a warm, comforting fire, like everything was clicking into place at last. Like he just found his other-half that he searched for so long. 

And he is so euphoric that it is you. 

He releases your lips, feeling your short breath on his lips. He opens his bright red eyes to discover you, eyes still closed but with a serene expression. You reopen your eyes slowly like you’re going down from a high. 

You gasp, stupefied. 

He awaits your judgment with anticipation and a touch of fear, but nothing pierces through his carefully crafted mask. 

You raise your hand and sign. 

‘Again please?’ 

He cannot help but smile, he will kiss again and again until you are sure of yourself! He captures your lips back in a more demanding kiss, holding the back of your head to press it against his craving lips. He sighs of pure satisfaction in the kiss, if it is what happiness feels like he would have it every day, please! 

He suddenly feels your own hand gently cupping his cheek, caressing his ear delicately. He smiles through the kiss and starts purring loudly. 

When you part again you are both panting. He takes one of your hands and kisses your knuckles reverently. 

“I thank you for this enlightening experience, (Y/n). I now have my response.” 

You look at him curiously, blood flowing furiously in your cheeks. 

“I am certain now, this is love.” He confesses, “My heart is beating for you, (Y/n).” 

You gulp again, but your hand keeps cupping his cheek, tenderly touching him. 

“I must know your response, (Y/n). What is your truth?” 

You retract your hand to start signing something but stop mid-movement of the first sign. He instantly picks up your discomfort. 

“I do not intend to force you into anything. If you wish for nothing to change between us, I will not impose myself on you. The choice is yours only.” 

You shyly nod and resume your signing. 

‘I am embarrassed.’ 

“Do not be. You may speak freely, (Y/n). Whatever your response is, I am ready to receive and honor it.” He asserts, encouraging you to open up. 

‘I never felt like this’ 

“Me neither, this is all new.” 

‘What if I am wrong?’ 

“You can always come back on your decision. If you wish to leave me later I will set you free, if you wish to come back into my arms I will welcome you.” 

He is on the verge of implosion. Doubt and excitation are consuming him, what is flying through your mind right now? Will you accept or reject him? He is dying to know! 

You take a deep breath and sign. 

‘I love you’ 

His heart skips several beats before sprinting up at a worrying speed.  

You love him back! What a relief. 

“Sign it again please.” He demands  

You fidget your fingers, embarrassed. 

“Please, Ch’acah. I want to see you tell me again.” 

You sign it again with trembling hands. 

He seizes them and kisses them like holy relics. 

“Thank you, (Y/n). You do not know how important it is for me. What do you want now?” 

‘What do you mean?’ You gingerly sign. 

“May we become a couple? Do you wish to try and explore this relationship? The choice is yours, what you want I will give.” 

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo @germie2037

[sgstories123]

Mr Koh's Stretching Exercises

Faith’s left leg slipped and went much further forward than she intended to. She yelled in pain as she felt her muscles stretched and she stumbled over as she lost her balance.

Mr Koh cursed under his breath as he watched his student collapsed on the track. That will be another incident report to write. Why did the principal of the school asked him to take on the Athletics CCA. He was not interested in athletics nor had any knowledge of it. He was just smoking his way through by googling and asking the team to do training based on what he found on the internet. He was quite sure that none of them is useful and that none of the students are going to win medals for the school. It was just a bloody waste of time with no additional salary. At most, he can write something during performance appraisal that he contributed to school activities. He would rather read a book than coach the athletics team. He was after all a Literature teacher.

“Faith! Are you okay?” Mr Koh asked as he walked over to the student. The other students were already gather around her, helping her up to her feet.

“I think I sprained myself. My left leg is hurting.” Faith replied, her eyes red with tears.

For a moment, Mr Koh’s heart missed a beat. Faith was actually quite pretty with large eyes and oval-shaped face. She looks something like an anime character. With her eyes glistening in tears, Mr Koh felt a sudden urge to take her into his arms and protect her.

“Right. I got some ice packs in the PE room. That will help.” Mr Koh then addressed the rest of the students. “It is almost 5 pm. Let’s call it a day for today’s session. Remember to train hard. The school is expecting you to do well in the coming competition.” Mr Koh grimaced at the insincerity of the words emanating from his mouth.

As the students left the field, Mr Koh put Faith’s hands over his shoulders while he helped her to the staff room at the end of the field. He could feel her warm breath on his face. Her breasts pressed slightly against his chest as she clung closer to him for support. He looked at her sweat-drenched t-shirt, her pale blue sports bra beneath was just barely visible. He could make out the cleavage. As both of them were wearing running shorts, their bare legs were touching and rubbing each other as they made their way across the field. Mr Koh was fervently hoping that he does not get an erection as it would be too obvious in his running shorts.

“Right. Take a seat on the bench.” Mr Koh instructed Faith as they reached the PE room. He took the ice packs out from the small freezer and sat down on the floor in front of Faith. He started rubbing the ice pack on her legs, hoping that that is the correct way to treat a sports injury.

As he moved the ice packs higher up her thighs, Mr Koh admired her smooth complexion. The ice pack slid easily across her skin, leaving a trail of glistening liquid. Faith’s legs were open and her matching pale blue panties were visible from within her FBT shorts. His cock was hard now and he tried to adjust his shorts without attracting too much attention to himself.

“Right. You know, Faith. This would not have happened if you have done the warm-up exercises. I always remind all of you to do proper warm-up. Now you know what happens when you don’t listen to me and how important stretching is to an athlete.” Mr Koh rambled on, relying on his usual training instructions to focus on something other than how aroused he was from giving Faith a sports massage. “There are very useful stretching techniques that can not only prevent you from getting injured but help you perform better. When you stretch, you cover more distance with each stride and that can help you win competitions.”

“Cher, how about you teach me some stretching exercises now?” Faith asked.

Mr Koh was caught in a bind. He did not really know any stretching exercises. He was just talking nonsense and smoking his way through.

“Er, well. For example, we can start with you opening up your legs as wide as you can.” Mr Koh suggested.

Faith responded by doing exactly that. Mr Koh’s cock became even harder as more of Faith’s panties were revealed through her shorts.

“Maybe you sit down on the floor. Might be better.” Mr Koh suggested.

Faith got on the floor and sat down on the floor exercise mats with her legs outstretched. “Is this okay, Cher?”

“Right. I now help you with some of the stretching exercises, okay?” Mr Koh’s lust took over. He got behind Faith and pressed her body forwards, his body enjoying the warmth and close contact with the young body. He caressed her thighs, pretending to stretch them out further, but his real intent was to move further up her inner thighs, towards the final pleasure. Faith let out a sigh of pleasure. Mr Koh took that as a sign that her defences were down. He pressed himself harder against her, his hard cock rubbing her back. His hands went around her stomach, pulling her closer to him.

“Cher, is this part of the stretching exercise?” Faith asked innocently. “Yes. I am trying to warm your stomach up so that it is ready for the next exercise.” Mr Koh replied.

His hand now reached into her panties, brushing lightly against the thin, sparse pubic hair of the young girl. His other hand reached underneath her shirt and pushed her sports bra upwards, releasing her breasts. He groped them tight. What beautiful breasts. Soft and just large enough to fill his hands completely.

“Cher, this does not feel right. You are doing something that only my boyfriend does?” Faith sounded confused. “I told you to listen to me right? Or you are going to get injured again. I am just massaging you. Now keep quiet and enjoy.“ Mr Koh was a little angry, partly because Faith mentioned that her boyfriend had been enjoying this wonderful piece of meat.

Mr Koh pushed Faith down onto the exercise mats and pulled off her shorts and panties. “Wait, Cher. What are you doing?” Faith was now frightened. “”I said listen to me and keep quiet. Your shorts are in the way. You can’t do a proper stretch with them on. This is good for you or you will keep on getting hurt.” Mr Koh raised his voice and Faith was subdued into silence.

Mr Koh pulled Faith’s legs wide open and saw his prize. It was a beautiful pussy with slightly swollen pinkish lips and crowned with a small crop of pubic hair. “See, I am also taking off my shorts so that I can stretch better.” Mr Koh continued before taking off his shorts, his hard cock pointing towards the ceiling.

“Now, I am going to give you a special stretching exercise. Your vagina needs to be loosened or it will hinder your legs from spreading out. I will help you with that now.” Mr Koh positioned his hard cock at the entrance of Faith’s vagina, spitting on it to provide lubrication. He then pushed it slowly in. It was tight and provided immense pleasure.

“Cher. This is wrong. You are fucking me.” Faith cried. “I am not fucking you. I am stretching your vagina.” Mr Koh grunted, as his cock inched deeper into her. “This is a stretching exercise, not a fuck.”

“Look. I am stretching your legs, right. It is all part of the exercise.” Mr Koh grunted as he stretch Faith’s legs wider apart, hoping that it will allow his cock to enter her more easily. As he plunged his last inch into her, he groaned in satisfaction. He then lifted Faith’s legs over his shoulders, pushing himself even deeper into her. “More stretching, Faith. Not fucking.”

As Mr Koh started fucking Faith, pounding into her at an increasing pace, Faith had stopped complaining but was instead moaning softly in pleasure.

“Are you feeling it, Faith? Do you feel your muscles relaxing now that it has been stretched?” Mr Koh grunted in between his pounding.

“Yes, Cher. This feels so good. Fuck me harder.” Faith whimpered.

“Not fucking you, Faith. Just doing stretching exercises. Remember that.” Mr Koh responded. “Now, let’s stretch another set of muscles.”

Mr Koh pulled Faith up from the exercise mats and pushed her against the wall. He entered her from behind, lifting one of her legs upwards. Faith moaned in pleasure as Mr Koh’s hard cock ravished her hole from a different angle. He pressed her against the wall as he fucked her, slamming his body hard against her. He quickened his pace, drawing greater pleasure as he neared his limit. With a large groan and a final deep thrust, he ejaculated into Faith, drowning her womb with his seed. He held onto her, as Faith shuddered in pleasure, as she too reached her climax. He slowly released her, letting her lie down on the exercise mats as he watched his semen slowly exiting her vagina and onto the mats.

He would need to clean the mats later, he thought to himself. Additional work, again. But at least it was worth it. Maybe being an athletics coach is not so bad after all. It might even be better than reading a book. There were after all a couple of pretty students in the team. Mae, Jasmine and even Jenn.

“Cher.” Faith broke his chain of fantasy. “Can we do some more stretching exercise again?”

“Well. I was thinking we should not be selfish. Maybe we can involve Mae, Jasmine and Jenn next time. I think all of you should undergo special training and compete for the 4 x 100 event.” Mr Koh smiled to himself as a whole new world suddenly opened up to him.

[insipid-drivel]

Horses: Since There Seems To Be An Even Wider Knowledge Gap Than I Anticipated

...And actually find it really exciting that I have a reason to expand and address some comments and questions from my first post!

This is a sequel/addition to my original post, "Horses: Since There Seems To be A Knowledge Gap". I want to address more horse-related knowledge gaps, common misinformation and mistakes made by well-meaning and very skilled creators that wouldn't know otherwise unless they worked with horses directly. You should not have to work hands-on with horses to learn some of this stuff, but the fact remains that horse facts and riding knowledge is often underdiscussed and usually only shared by other people that work with/around horses. A lot of this information should be within easier reach for writers and artists, too!

Before I begin, I'd like to thank all of you that politely reached out in the comments, tags, and my DMs/asks with your thoughtful additions to details I forgot/left out/hadn't even considered, and your brave questions posed to me personally that I was more than happy to answer. I'm truly thankful to all of you who contributed with a positive energy, or that had the courage to reach out to me - the OP - with questions my first post didn't manage to help you with. I will never punish, shame, or otherwise mistreat anyone who comes to me with an earnest question or correction in good faith, anonymous or not. If you're polite to me, I will be polite to you. I will try my hardest to answer questions I may not have much experience with, but I will still do my best to research the answers so you don't have to, and tag/cite/refer you to people, books, or other knowledge sources that have more answers and experience than I do if I can't.

So, what more is there to know about writing and portraying horses? I'll just get started off the top of my head with some of the most frequent additions other tumblr horse folk have been hollerin' at me about, and with good reason, because you guys were right to point out what you did and really got me thinking!

-Spurs: My Second Take. In my original post, I voiced my personal distaste for the use of spurs in riding. Spurs, for those who don't know, were traditionally made as sharp metal pinwheels that attached to the back of riding boots for enhanced communication between the rider and the horse, much like how riding crops are used. I, personally, have had a lot of bad experiences seeing riders misuse spurs to hurt horses that I cared for as a stable hand and genuinely loved, and so I've been very shut down about the topic of spurs for many years.

Several people spoke up in defense of spurs as riding and communication tools, and I honestly believe that you guys were very on-point and made some great arguments: Spurs are only as harmful to horses as the intent the rider has in applying them, and I didn't have enough updated information about the different types of spurs that can be used nowadays that are not designed to be sharp or uncomfortable for the horse! I always grew up around traditional Cowboy-style spurs, which are sharp, stabby, star-shaped wheels, and can wound a horse and draw blood if used too aggressively. Tragically, most inexperienced and newer riders will use spurs too forcefully and wind up hurting the horse, and it's largely because new riders are inherently scared of riding, and over-rely on tools like spurs and crops rather than trust the horse to know what it's doing and be intelligent enough to know how to care for a human rider's safety.

Now, I've since learned that there are spurs with rubber wheels, blunted tips like those on the ends of safety-fencing foils, round metal bumpers instead of spurs at all, and even spurs that sport rotating metal balls that just feel (to the horse) like someone rolling a large ball-point pen over their sides, and more! So, to those of you that spoke up in tags and comments, thank you for doing so in a way that got me to open my own mind and check myself and my bad memories. You guys taught me something really cool and valuable that genuinely changed my perspective and opinions, and that's a really good thing!

-A Group Of Zombies/Unarmed Humans Can Take Down A Healthy Adult Horse. This is specifically aimed at The Walking Dead, but... yeah, you know the second episode when Rick rides a horse into the zombie-overrun Atlanta and the only way he's able to survive is when the zombies are distracted taking down and eating his obviously-jello-and-rubber horse?

Yeah, no. That is not how it would happen. At all. I think any biologists in the audience would back me up on that.

See, horses are prey animals, and they are herbivores. We're often used to thinking of herbivorous prey animals as shy, retiring, vulnerable animals that will simply keel over and die of fright when cornered by a predator. In reality, the opposite is often the case! Predatory animals tend to be much more shy, and much more cautious with their physical safety and wellbeing than prey animals tend to be, and that's usually because predators need to be able to remain uninjured and able-bodied enough to hunt again later, or else they and their babies may starve to death. Prey animals, especially herbivores, have evolved to deal with being hunted, and inherently don't need to be quite as healthy and able-bodied as a predator in order to avoid starving in the wild. Grass and leaves don't run away or try to fight back (unless it's like, poison oak or something), so an herbivore can generally recover from more environmental beatings than a predator typically can.

When cornered, horses very often only understand one thing: Murder. That's why you need horse whisperers and stable hands that know how to "gentle" a panicked horse as essential personnel at boarding and teaching ranches. While a horse can absolutely love and adore even the smallest of children and never harm them (at least intentionally - accidents happen), they can and absolutely will kill in order to defend themselves if running isn't an option. Horses can kick with up to 2,000lbs/907kg of force with their back legs. That's enough to break bones, shatter skulls, insta-kill grown men, and if you're kicked in the chest? Cause spontaneous cardiac arrest. Horses kick so hard and so fast they can literally make your heart stop from the speed and force of the impact alone: not from tissue damage. Horses will also paw and stomp with their front hooves until the Threatening Thing is effectively a mincemeat pancake, bite hard enough to take off fingers and hands, and can even cat-jump into the air off all four hooves in order to kick outward with all four legs at once. Spanish cavalry officers traditionally trained their horses to cat-jump on command in order to prevent them and their horse from being surrounded by footsoldiers in battle.

Horses will also use their body weight to roll, crush, scrape, and flatten anything or anyone that they don't want holding onto them. They will use environmental objects like trees, fences, or the corners of buildings to scrape unwanted hangers-on off into bloody smears (my mom's horse actually did this to a guy twice and he wound up in the ER with severe lacerations, bruises, splinters, and worse). Basically: a horse will use its entire body and the weight that comes with it as well as the entire world around it to fucking OBLITERATE anything they see as an unavoidable threat to their safety.

Without heavy-duty ropes, weapons, or tools, a group of adult, living, human men the size of football (the fake kind) linebackers wouldn't be able to successfully wrestle a fully-grown, panicked horse to the ground, much less a bunch of undead, mostly-decomposing zombies that only know how to bite and scratch. The horse Rick is riding on looks like it's probably a Quarterhorse, too. Quarterhorses are very sturdy, moderately-sized breeds that are also the iconic Cowboy Horse. They're tough, they're brave, they're hearty, and if they snap, they can and will kill both other animals and humans.

A horse's skin is so thick and tough that it's virtually impossible for a human to successfully bite or scratch hard enough to puncture through their outer dermal layers. As stable hands, a regular tool we use for getting mud out of a horse's hair is a literal metal wire brush that can rip open our skin if we try to use them, but the horses lean into them without even a hint of damage to their skin from doing so. There may be some tiny welts and a little bit of blood if a human tries to claw and bite at a horse, but horses do far worse to each other when they're just playing! Our fingernails and jaw muscles just aren't strong enough to do much damage to a healthy horse's skin.

-Horses aren't domestic animals.

...Yes they are. But just like other domestic animals, there can be wild populations of them that have had little or no human contact or intervention. Genetically speaking, however, horses are indeed domesticated. They're large domestic animals , but they are very much domesticated. Humans have been working alongside horses for at least 6,000 years. Domestic cats have only been domesticated for about 10,000 years. Truly wild horses in herds today, sadly, are pretty much 100% descended from domesticated horses. The recently-reintroduced-to-the-wild Przewalski's Horse is probably the closest genetic link to the original wild horses native to what are now modern Mongolia and Kazakhstan. Even the revered American Mustang is the product of domestication and planned breeding practices by both white colonists and Indigenous Americans over thousands of years, but Indigenous Americans were capable of maintaining a healthy balance between their personal horses and the essential need for herds of wild horses for the environment, too. White colonists did not understand this and intentionally stripped the North American frontier of its herds of wild horses, and are the primary reason the Mustang is only recently reappearing in wild herds in North America.

Sheep are domestic animals. Cows are domestic animals. Goats are domestic animals. Just because an animal has hooves and doesn't usually live in your house with you does not mean it isn't domesticated: You've just never had to live in an environment where they're essential to daily life or considered welcome companions, so they seem more like wild animals than cats and dogs. Hundreds of years ago, before modern building techniques created houses that could stay sustainably warm year-round, it was very normal for families to bring in cattle as large as horses and cows into their homes and sleep in the same rooms together for security and warmth, dookie and all (horse and cow poop doesn't smell as rank as dog or cat poo; they're herbivores, so it just doesn't smell as foul, and happens to make very good fuel for the fire). We don't do that anymore for health and safety reasons, and so horses, among other farmyard and "rural" domestic animals have become increasingly alienated from most people's psyches as being animals just as capable of being pets as your dog or cat.

-You can calculate how long a horse can run or work every day. This one is largely in response to some well-meaning questions I got from anons that seemed to want me to give them precise hourly work rates and mileage horses can tolerate. I was frustrated by questions like this, because it's a really cool subject to discuss, but not an easy question to answer. Horses are not machines, and "horsepower" is a unit of measurement derived from horses - not applied to them. "Horsepower" is a term used in machinery like tractors and cars. The total horsepower of your average horse is... well, 1, because that's how many horses a single horse can be without getting into some Welcome To Night Vale shit, which I'd love to do, but is a bit too far off topic for this particular post.

A horse's capacity to work or travel is heavily determined by outside factors, as well as organic factors in regards to the individual horse. How old is the horse? How heavy is it? How heavy is the rider? Is it also carrying cargo, like armor and camping supplies? Is it working on a farm and pulling a plow? If so, what quality is the soil? Has it been plowed before? Does the farmer own more than one horse? Is it hot outside? Is the horse going up and downhill? Is it fly season? Is the ground rocky? Are there burrowing animals in the area? Is there clay in the soil? Did it rain recently? How well-kept are the roads? Are there roads to use? What time of year is it- Aaaaaaah!

Ultimately, the answer is: A horse can work as long as it's willing to, and as long as its owner/handler judges is safe for the horse. A horse may be able to pull an old-fashioned plow through well-tilled soil for most of a cool morning before needing a break to cool down, eat, and rehydrate. It takes the judgment of the person commanding the horse when to call for a break or a full-stop to working for that horse by observing how tired it is (is it panting? Sweating? Slowing down? Are there any signs of strain in the hooves or legs?) or if it's in any way injured or in pain. The same applies with traveling long distances: It's up to the rider's judgment and how forgiving the environment is on the horse's body. In some cases, a riding horse may not be able to be ridden safely if the road is too treacherous or uneven for the horse to handle balancing its own weight and the rider's. In those cases, it's better for the rider to get off the horse and gently lead them through the bad terrain until it smooths out.

Also... horses can just... choose to quit. Some are quite sassy or very clear about their boundaries, and if they don't feel motivated or get too bored, they won't cooperate at all. The only way to deal with this is by letting them go do their own thing in the paddock until they decide they wanna cooperate again. Abusive people my try to whip or spur a horse into working past its limits, but humane people just let the guys take a break.

-Two adult people can ride on the same horse for a long time. GOD NO. PLEASE GOD NO. DO NOT DO THIS. PLEASE DO NOT EVER, EVER DO THIS.

Horses can only safely carry a maximum of about 30% of their total body weight on their backs without risking severe spinal damage, if not a broken spine altogether. A Thoroughbred - the iconic racing horse - typically maxes out at about 1,000lbs total in weight as an adult. Thoroughbreds are fairly tall compared to other fast, hot-blooded horses, like Arabians. That means that, at best, a perfectly healthy, not-too-old, not-too-young Thoroughbred horse would not be able to carry a total weight of more than about 450lbs, including the weight of its saddle and other tack, supplies carried by the rider, armor or other gear worn by the rider, and the impacts of gravity and the shocks of the rider's weight on the horse's back when it's moving at any speed. In the vast majority of cases, two adults cannot safely ride on the same horse for more than a very short distance before the horse enters the danger-zone for suffering severe and permanent spinal damage that can result in euthanasia. An adult carrying a baby or toddler is different, but two adults? Please don't. Please. Even if you're getting married and the owner of the super-huge pretty draft horse you're renting to take a gallant shared ride with your spouse with for pictures that reassures you it's fine, do not do it. Please just rent a carriage or pay extra for two horses. Please.

-A paddock with grass is all a horse needs to meet its nutritional needs. If that were true, horses would still be kept as pets more commonly around the world than they actually are. Unfortunately, to really thrive in the wild, horses need hundreds, if not thousands, of hectares of territory they can freely travel around in, while most paddocks are rarely larger than 10-20 acres when you're not talking about generational wealth or land. One of the reasons domestically-raised horses are almost entirely dependent on humans for food is due to the restricted spaces they're kept in. Grass only produces nutrition when the soil itself is fertile, and we humans don't necessarily have the natural ability to sense when soil is too nutrient-deprived for the plant life growing from it to be enough to provide just one horse with the vitamins and minerals they need on a daily basis to be healthy.

Another fact largely lost to history is that, back when most families had to farm to survive, farmers would store green leaves from various healthy and tasty trees and bushes in the boughs of other trees within their cattle paddocks and fields. By doing this, it kept large amounts of pests like rats from infesting the leaves, and keeping the cut branches and leaves stored within other leafy trees actually kept the greens fresher much longer than if they were stored on the ground or in a storage room. Horses would then graze from the leaves in the trees above their heads as well as the grass.

Stable hands and private owners keep rigorous dietary routines tailored to the needs of each individual horse. We're usually up and feeding the horses by dawn at the latest. The horses are usually given a few scoops of oats (not too much, because oats bloat up when they absorb liquid, and too much of that can give a horse colic), carrots and other vegetables for extra vitamins, salt licks (which are infused with extra minerals like a giant multivitamin), and even vitamin tablets/powder that goes straight into their dinner hay or alfalfa. Vets are essential for evaluating a horse's specific nutritional needs, so horses can actually get "prescriptions" for specific ingredients in their regular meals given to us from licensed large animal veterinarians, and not just a wealthy owner's best guess.

-Horses can throw up. Nope! It's not even physically possible for a horse to spit up food! That's part of why stable hands and owners have to be so careful in maintaining a regular, stable, healthy diet for their horses and keep their pastures and paddocks checked for toxic substances like poisonous plants that a horse may not know is toxic, or notice in the grass it's munching on.

Because they have such long necks and tall legs, horses need special muscles in their upper GI tracts in order to graze and drink water without constantly choking and fighting gravity. By having an esophagus that's one-way-only, as well as a muscle that clamps their stomachs shut at the top called a French Tie, horses hold down anything they swallow, even if it's enough to kill them.

-Horses are the best farm animals for a pre-industrial setting. Goodness no! Not at all! In fact, horses didn't start really replacing oxen on farms until the dawn of Draft Horses in the Victorian Era in the West. While many Eastern countries still retain the use of oxen for farming, Western European farmers fell prey to what we all dread: Peer pressure.

When Draft Horses started to appear in the scene in formal horse fancier associations, they were readily advertised as being excellent replacements for oxen (neutered male cows; so, a bull that has no balls). Oxen can be very stubborn, yet affectionate animals, and newer farmers often struggle more with handling oxen compared to horses. The Victorian Era saw a small boom in private farms, and so there became an increasing demand for "easy" farm cattle for newbie farmers to employ.

The other factor that played into horses replacing oxen in Western farming was clout. Horses are more expensive than oxen and generally seen as more prestigious to own. So, farmers often wound up "upgrading" from oxen to horses when their financial means allowed them to. The problem was that, in order to do the same amount of farm work with horses, you need more horses to replace exhausted or injured horses throughout each working day compared to how many more oxen you need to swap out throughout a day of heavy labor. But, nonetheless, horses took over for being "more trainable" and "more intelligent" than oxen (admittedly, oxen can be trickier to work with, but that does NOT mean that horses do a better job at hard field labor), and the Western oxen training industry has almost completely gone extinct.

Really, oxen do a lot better at extremely heavy jobs like tilling and plowing soil for growing crops and hauling large, heavy weights. Because oxen have cloven (two) hooves, they're a lot better at gripping the terrain and avoiding injury to their feet when they're working hard at awkward angles or on rough terrain. Oxen also pack on a lot more muscle and fat around their entire bodies, and so they have fewer vulnerable zones that can become irreparably damaged from exerting a lot of muscle power. Horses, only having a single hoof, can be rendered completely incapable of working or even running just from fracturing a hoof or stepping on a sharp object, like a nail.

-Any leg injury means instant euthanasia. No! No, no, no! There are lots of ways to treat a variety of injuries and illnesses that present in a horse's leg or foot. Especially nowadays, thanks to advances in all forms of prosthetics and 3D printing, horses are euthanized less and less for increasingly severe leg injuries courtesy of prosthetics and mobility aids! Some advances have been made so far that a horse that loses the lower portion of its leg can live a healthy life with a prosthetic!

Don't believe me?

Even in history, there have been treatments for leg and foot ailments for horses used before any talk of euthanasia is brought up. Remember: horses are often beloved service animals to people, today and a thousand years ago! Would you jump straight to euthanizing not only your best friend, but your primary mode of transport, as well as your extraordinarily-expensive ESA?

It's only in cases of severe breaks in a leg bone that injury-related euthanasia is discussed for a horse. Smaller fractures and hoof damage can actually be treated and healed, especially with modern veterinary science, and some fractures can be so successfully treated that a horse can return to riding and competing after recovering!

-Bits are cruel.

Look. There's one person that raked me over the coals in the replies for being ignorant in espousing bits as essential parts of a horse's bridle. I know who you are, and honestly, I feel the compassion you have for the animals... but you're still sipping a little much from PETA's kool-aid and did not convince me over to your side.

Yes, there are bridles that do not require bits to control a horse's head and communicate with it. Yes, there are riders that prefer them, and there are horses that can only be ridden with them due to bad experiences with bit-training or past dental problems. No, it's not cool to tut your fucking finger at me and call me ignorant when I assert that it's a very normal, standard part of tacking up and riding a horse, and the worst a bit can do is pinch the corner of a horse's lip or tongue if you are a jerk with your rein-etiquette. There are bits, just like I observed with spurs, that are specifically designed not to hurt or cause any distress to the horse, so if the person that dumped on me in the last post reads this one: Calm the fuck down and go take yourself on a walk along with your horse. Have an apple. You've clearly been in your stall too long.

As I was saying: Yes, there are different kinds of bits that are specifically designed not to harm a horse. Sometimes horses with smaller mouths or wrinklier lips (it's a thing) can have a hard time with specific bits due many of them sporting hinges where they wrap around out of the horse's mouth and connect to the bridle. This can be easily addressed by switching to a different kind of bit that's less harsh and more flexible for the sake of a horse's comfort, or getting rid of a bit altogether and swapping to bitless bridles. Ironically, I've met horses that actually stim with their bridles; they play with the bits with their tongues when they're excited before an event, kinda like they're grinding their teeth.

And yes, some horses can still have bad sensory issues with bits, and can need bitless bridles, and that's okay! The important thing about bridles in general is that they're the primary way a rider can communicate with the horse's head and show them where they want to go. As with riding, horses tend to go in the direction their heads are facing; they don't usually walk while looking sideways, but rather stand still to look sideways before turning back to the direction they want to go in to walk or run. A lot of riders are taught the phrase, "Head like a princess, hips like a whore," as a reminder to keep their hips loose and moving with the horse, but their heads focusing on where they want the horse to go, rather than looking at the scenery. Most riders, even those that are very experienced, can get distracted and accidentally put a little too much pressure on the horse's bridle and side in the direction of where they're looking, and that causes the horse to go off course, too.

-Horseshoes are incredibly painful and must be replaced only when absolutely necessary. Not at all! A horse's hoof is basically like a gigantic fingernail. While the inner core of the hoof, which is typically concave with a V shape in the middle and needs cleaning by stable hands on a regular basis to keep gunk, debris, and dangerous stuff like nails out of their feet is vulnerable to pain and injury, the rest of the hoof is literally a giant fingernail! A ferrier specializes at grooming a horse's hooves and trimming them so they don't overgrow (which can happen if they spend a lot of time on soft surfaces like grass), and many ferriers also specialize at setting and replacing horseshoes. A horseshoe specifically sits around the outer edge of a horse's hoof - specifically where a hoof is least sensitive and most likely to split or become damaged while riding and lead to infection and pain later - where the horse has no nerve endings. The nails that go into the horseshoe to hold it in place are actually very short and narrow at the tips, and only go into the solid nail a couple of inches into that same nerveless outer edge. The shortest horseshoe nails I've seen used are only 1.5 inches, or 4cm, and the largest around 2 inches, or 5cm and the worst a horse feels when a shoe is being set or replaced is a dull thudding from the tapping of the small hammer used to set the nails. A horse can literally go right back to business after their shoes are fitted, although a ferrier may recommend having them spend some quiet time in their stall for a couple of hours to really make sure the shoes are set properly and the horse is comfortable if something like a trip caused the original shoe to come off (the technical term is "casting a shoe").

My evening meds are kicking in, so I'll stop this very, very long sequel here.

As before, feel free to send me asks with more questions. I'm sure there are even more things I'm too sleepy to remember right now, and this post is running incredibly long.

[dreamtydraw]

Hello there ! Today’s post is a bit special because it’s a game recruitment post.

For those who are unaware, last october I published a demo for my sapphic horror / romance game Apple bag. Since then i've been working on other projects but i now returning to wok on it to offer an expended demo release for this october ( Possibly for this year Yuri game jam ).

It’s this game :

I’m currently looking for :

Gui artist ( open )

-Work would consist of making entire new gui assets to make the game more polished visually.

Renpy programmers ( open )

-Work would consist of coding the gui assets as I am not knowledgeable enough to code it myself + Help reducing my coding workload by coding the dialogues and make the development quicker.

Sensitivity readers

More precisely :

-Someone who suffered or is knowledgeable about anorexia nervosa. ( open )

-Wasian person familiar with the struggle of double cultural identity, preferably Taiwanese / European. (Open )

-Work would consist of reading the script and making commentaries to ensure the content depicted in the story is correct and handled with care.

Additional position : Guest artist ( open )

-This isn't a work that is necessary for the game development but for game promotions. It would consist of having artist working on promotional art (chibis, simple ilus, doodles ) that could be used for promotional post ( ex VA announcement, promotional post, date announcement ). This position is more for fun and interest for artist who wants to do small amount of artworks.

The time frame this project will be worked on is august / october and most of the work regarding programming and commenting won't be requested before at least mid september. Additionally this project is unpaid because the game will be free upon release and I'm a broke college student working on this game by passion.

For questions you can leave them on this post or directly message me. For candidature please message me on my discord ( dreamty_dream ) or private message

Thank you for taking the time to read my post, wishing everyone a good day.

[eerna]

Oh that ask you answered about how you would rewrite Callum and rayla's relationship in the show without changing major major details was really interesting and you liked of hooked me with the idea of trying to keep your rewrite within canon realm.

So I wanna ask what would your rewrite be for tdp in general outside of canon realm and do you ever plan on making a fic on it?

Ayy I'm glad, thanks~ I am totally up for some outside-of-canon idea throwing, sounds fun! However, keep in mind I am not saying my vision is what the show should have been like. I am not a professional writer. I can only give some ideas for how to fix the stuff I didn’t like and what would make the story engaging for me personally. And no, I would never write a fanfic based on this. I already have an unpublished 40k+ word TDP fanfic I can't complete because I lost my passion for the series, so going on an epic fantasy writing bender is definitely not in the cards for me. If any of my ideas sparkle anyone's fix-it wires, I give them my blessing to go forth and write it instead of me :) 

You asked for outside canon, but we gotta establish some rules first, because if I turned TDP into a story I PERSONALLY wanna tell, it wouldn’t resemble it at all, so we gotta keep it at least a little canon-consistent. In addition to that, this series’ refusal to disclose important worldbuilding info within the main storyline means my knowledge of its lore has enormous gaps shaped like tabletop guides and video game dialogue screens. I will rely on the wiki for this to the best of my abilities and if most of the lore is totally dropped, don’t blame me. In this rewrite I will establish THEMES, WORLDBUILDING, and CHARACTERS, and then even a bit of the PLOT. I will do my best to adhere to the existing themes and the worldbuilding. I’ll only use the characters already created for the show (while giving them a few new characteristics) and the plot will be only hinted at because dear lord I can’t map out 7 seasons of a TV show in a tumblr post. I am also gonna stay in the Y7 rating range because eff you people who think kids can’t handle interesting stories. There’s gonna be lots of ATLA comparisons because this show insists on trying to be ATLA and I can’t ignore that. Continuing under read more because this got LONG (I had to stop myself almost 8k words in. Someone save me). 

THEMES

TDP is trying to do way too much when it comes to themes - it wants to be complex and nuanced, but it doesn’t walk the walk. ATLA did it best, they kept it simple, but added a hint of complexity. We will do the opposite: we are concentrating on ONE big, nuanced concept that we will be writing around, and peppering in the other stuff as character garnish. The one big theme we will be concentrating on is THERE IS NO TRULY GOOD GUYS IN A WAR. We will be sacrificing the “How do we forgive and forget after the war?” theme because it would require starting the show after the war is officially done, as it is far too large of a concept to be used as a second-act theme (also, I was born first generation after a war, and my answer to that question is not the correct tone for an epic fantasy quest). Instead, we will make it a smaller scale character garnish of “how does this character put aside their hurt and work with the people who have hurt them?”. 

Secondary themes will be: You have to keep your mind open and learn from everyone you meet. Our planet deserves to be treated with respect. Everyone has a place in this world. Love can make people do vile things. Nature VS nurture. Divine right VS meritocracy. Plus other Truths that will be discussed in the following sections.

WORLDBUILDING

Again, ATLA made a very simple system of four (or three) different countries and then went ham with it. We can’t do that because I am not redoing the entire universe, but let’s try making it less overcomplicated while keeping the map sort of the same. The two nations at war are Xadia (as seen in the show) and the Neolandian Empire (includes all the human kingdoms). The areas are generally the same as they are in the currently available lore of the series, unless stated otherwise.

Magic

First, we gotta establish the magic system. The whole arcanum setup can stay the same. The world is made up of six primal sources: the Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Earth, the Sky, and the Ocean. A deep connection to one of the primal sources is called the arcanum, and an arcanum means you understand what this primal source brings to the world, and the Ultimate Truth behind it. Once you understand this Truth, you can use the spells (in draconic language) connected to it to manipulate the world around you acting in accordance to this Truth, and this makes you a mage of primal magic. So it isn’t just controlling the elements, the Truths are applicable to a wide range of situations (for example, if you break a plate, you can put it back together by connecting to the Earth arcanum which understands that all things that are now broken used to be of one body and spell it back together). Creatures born to one of the primal sources understand this truth perfectly from the get-go, but they still have to learn the draconic incantations to effectively use spells, which is why not every primal source creature is also a mage. The more difficult the spell, the deeper your understanding must be - the most powerful mages live solely according to their arcanum’s Truth. But since the Truths can be contradictory or uncomfortable to tie to each other, the deeper you are connected to your Truth, the less chances you have of understanding other Truths. Creatures born to one of the primal sources don’t have the ability to fully commit to any other primal source - they can get it in theory, but can’t tap into its magic naturally. They all live in harmony with one another, balancing the world and its inhabitants. But there is one creature in the world born without a connection to any one primal source, but with the cognitive abilities to learn to understand them. That’s right, ALL humans have the potential to understand multiple arcanums, and are only limited by their philosophical abilities. This means our magic system is based on philosophical thought. Magical creatures are naturally predisposed to it, but it limits them, and are the equivalent to people who limit their worldview only to their personal lived experiences. Humans have the potential to gain limitless knowledge, but the difficulty of that path and the disadvantage with which they start out often discourages them from even trying. Magical creatures tend to view humans as inferior because they perceive them as incapable of living the same blessed balance as they do. They see their potential to learn multiple types of magic as a transgression against the ways of the world, and have outlawed any magic done by humans. This means humans were completely dependent on magical creatures for things such as shelter, physical defense, food, et cetera. And if you repeat to someone enough times that they are a parasite on the world and have no right to live in harmony with it, they are going to try and live as separate as possible in their own way.

And here we reach the dark magic. Dark magic can perform the same spells as primal magic - and yes, every single dark magic spell has its primal equivalent. They are simply different means of getting to the same end. However, dark magic skips the “needs a connection to the arcanum” part, and instead consumes the amount of primal magic energy proportional to whatever you need to do. To fix a broken plate with dark magic you need to say the spell, and provide the appropriate amount of primal Earth magic, through a plant or a creature connected to the Earth arcanum. Primal magic is lots of spellbooks, conversations and philosophy. Dark magic is necromancy, recipes, potions, way more scienc-y, as it requires a lot of experimentation and trial and error to determine how much magic needs to get used in spells to achieve the desired effect. Primal magic is borrowing, manipulating, and returning the magic around you to reach the desired effect. Dark magic is taking the magic and consuming it to reach the desired effect. Once you spend all the magic in one area, it takes centuries for it to get replenished again. The only effect it has on the user’s physical appearance is the black eyes for the duration of the spell, but none of that “gray white corpse” look (it looks cool but is way too on the nose). Dark magic use is strictly regulated and its secret closely guarded to ensure it is used only “in service of the Empire”. The humans use magical items in their everyday lives, which the show should showcase - we need to understand how much these people rely on the magic. I am trying to format it as the equivalent of plastic in our world, if you can’t tell - something helpful that’s not bad in small doses, but once you base your system on it, it totally ruins everything. 

History and geography

Xadia was once one land where humans and magical creatures lived together. The archdragons were never rulers - they were revered as gods by Xadians, seen as the embodiment of the primal sources on earth, but they stayed in their heavenly abodes, perfectly in-tune with their arcanums, above all squabbles of mortals. There were no countries, the nations organized in settlements according to their arcanum, but that doesn’t mean there were no conflicts. The primal tribes understood they had to live in harmony to keep the world balanced, but their opposing beliefs kept them at each other’s throats if they got too close to each other, so they all preferred to stay separated into societies that functioned according to the Truth of their primal source. Humans had no tool to deal with the dangers of survival in the dangerous magical wilds, so they too lived in these societies, protected by the primal magicians, but also seen as lesser beings in a magic-oriented world. Deviation from the laws and beliefs of society, including humans doing magic, was seen as a danger to the balance of the world, and some humans preferred to leave and start their own settlements. The settlements were small and fell quickly, but the largest of these was Eboreus, all the way to the inhospitable desert in the northwest of the continent, where dark magic was discovered. Empowered by this new power source, it grew into a kingdom named Neolandia, a safe haven where the humans despised by the magical creatures could find refuge. The dark magic ensured humans held resources for their own survival for the first time, and as their numbers grew, they needed more and more access to magical resources once they spent the ones already in their possession. At first expansion was easy, since the area was all wilderness, and Neolandia grew in strength. By the time they spread to the first Xadian settlement, they were powerful enough to take it on in battle once negotiations fell through, and thus the big war started. The territory ruled by humans split into kingdoms to make it easier to govern. The expansion was stalled over the past 500 years because their numbers stopped increasing, and also because the forces reached the Breach, the mountain range separating the continent in half, which is almost completely devoid of magical properties (aside from the Xadians guarding it). Conquering it would take a long time and a lot of resources that couldn’t be replenished until it is completely passed, so the Empire has to change its war tactics. Katolis, the youngest of the kingdoms, partially resides in the Breach and marks the frontier of the war. Katolians are soldiers, their culture devoted to defending and expanding the Empire. A year ago the king of Katolis and his High Mage did the unthinkable - they snuck into Xadia and slayed Avizandum, the sky archdragon who resided in the Breach. This sent the continent into an uproar, Neolandians empowered as god killers, Xadians angered at the defilement of their most sacred beliefs. Both await what magnificent magic will be unleashed upon the world now that Katolis has such a powerful resource in its hands.

MAIN CHARACTERS

Callum. The fourteen-year-old adopted son of Harrow, the king of Katolis, he doesn’t fit his country’s warrior ideals and feels rejected by both the society and his family. His mother, a Katolian general who famously perished in service of the Empire, married the king when Callum was very young. He is no good at fighting and is scared of war, so he prefers to spend his days hidden alone in some nook, reading poetry and drawing. He has an interest in magic from a lore standpoint, he doesn’t want to try it himself because it’s not something you just dabble in: if you decide to become a dark mage, you stay a dark mage until death. He is kind-hearted and emotionally mature, his mind open to any and all ideas, but this also makes him anxious and insecure - if anything is possible, the world feels unstable. Callum is going to be our protagonist, who we accompany as he learns lessons about the world and himself.

Ezran. We are rewriting the heck outta this little dude. He was supposed to begin his education as the crown prince of Katolis this spring, as he has just turned 10, but for some reason his father delayed it. Ez is very glad for this, as he quite enjoys being a carefree little kid with no responsibilities. He is everything Callum isn’t - social, silly, optimistic, and energetic. He loves the entire world and tells stories of the most basic things with the wonder of a fairy tale. This means that when he tells people he can talk to animals, they smile at him indulgently and marvel at the prince’s creativity. Ezran as a character is supposed to embody a child’s lack of awareness when it comes to differences between people - he sees everyone as his friend, and believes everyone is the same. The Earth arcanum follows the same principle, and here is where his ability to speak to animals stems from, even if he is totally unaware that he is doing magic. He is the kid in the zombie apocalypse - you don’t want him to be corrupted because he symbolizes the potential of future generations. However, at no point are we making him a monologuing mouthpiece or the best king who ever lived, since his story is in his potential to grow, and not his perfection as he is. I am writing Bait out because I honestly hate his role as an useless damsel in distress, and the role of the animal companion is already filled by the title character, and it’s not like I can write HIM out.

Harrow. The king of Katolis is meant to be Ezran 30 years into the future, an optimist who forgot how to believe in a better world because he was pressured to grow into the role expected of him. His wife, general Sarai, and his High Mage, Viren, supported (read: pressured lovingly) him and made him into the brave, fierce king he is today. A year ago he led a bold invasion into Xadia which was meant to turn the tides of the war - the plan was to kill Avizandum and harvest his body for magic for years to come, even subduing the Breach along the way. However, once the archdragon was slain, his body dissolved before it could be transported back to Katolis. Viren predicted the reason - archdragons were manifestation of primal sources on earth, so when all that magical energy was released from its physical form, it must have reformed somewhere. The answer awaited them in Avizandum’s nest, the Stormspire (now located within the Breach) - an egg of a newly reincarnated sky archdragon. Harrow and Viren took the egg and hid it from the world, buying time until Viren figures out what to do next. However, this close encounter with a god left Harrow’s faith in his life’s path shaken. Who is he to meddle in affairs he can’t even comprehend, such as the laws of the universe? Could it be that the survival of his people doesn’t have to be achieved by destroying the existing world? Did he choose wrong all those years ago? Looking at his small son, he can’t force himself to force the same choice upon him, not yet, so now Harrow is stuck in a limbo of his own feelings and re-examining his entire life with no one to confide in. 

Viren. I am totally stealing from The Kyoshi duology for his villain type, and I am not sorry. Viren is the High Mage of Katolis, the king’s closest advisor. He and Harrow have been the closest of friends since their youth, despite their wildly different origins. He was the son of an Evenere farmer family, and he got sent to a Katolian military academy, where he met young Harrow who had just begun his own education. The boys became fast friends, but soon Viren was recognized for his intelligence, work ethic, and high potential for dark magic. Dark magic is usually taught generationally within selected families which makes the study very elitist, but his drive and ambition led him to excel, so that by the time they finished education, Harrow took him back to his castle where he could become the High Mage’s apprentice. From the very beginning the drive behind Viren’s ambition was the knowledge that he is all that’s standing between those he loves and utter ruin - first it was the financial difficulties his family faced that were mitigated by his high paying position, and now it is the responsibilities of one of the most important men in the country. As mentioned before, Harrow faced many difficulties adjusting to the role expected from him as a king, and Viren saw himself as his compass, the one making the hard decisions that save the world until the king becomes strong enough to make them himself. And for a while, it seemed it worked and Harrow became the ruler that could defend humanity from Xadia, but ever since their return home Harrow has been growing more and more distant from Viren. For the past year Viren has been trying to figure out how best to harvest the archdragon egg. He knows he only has one chance to use its energy, because if he kills it, it will just respawn back at the Stormspire, and since Xadian forces have now been alerted and concentrated in that area, he won’t be able to get it back again. Dark magic relies on experiments, and he doesn’t have the right to experimentation. The dragon was supposed to power the Empire with magic for years, but now it turns out they get one single spell out of him. He knows that if word gets out, all of Xadia will descend upon Katolis, so he doesn’t even dare share his discovery with other High Mages. He’s been slowly breaking under the pressure, and the only other person who knows about the situation, Harrow, is of no help. Lately, he has even started saying their way of life is wrong, and they should have never stolen the egg. His strength is faltering. Viren is used to doing whatever is needed to save those he loves, but what happens when those loved ones are the ones preventing him from saving them? Harrow is a possible Ezran future, and Viren is a possible Callum future, a man who had to carve a place in the world for himself, who felt powerless until he discovered something that made him more powerful than anyone else, whose sense of right and wrong is so strong it might even overpower his love for his brother. 

Claudia and Soren. Soren is the himbo disappointment son, he inherited none of Viren’s intelligence, or magical talent. He is ambitious and a fantastic swordsman, a true Katolian, so he recently managed to score the position of the captain of the king’s guard at only 18 years old (his dad’s only comment was “Excellent, now you can report all of the king’s everyday life to me”). Claudia, on the other hand, is a magical prodigy - at only 16 years old she has almost reached the same level of skill as her father, which is something Viren is immensely proud of. However, Claudia is very chaotic and doesn’t take this entire “We’re the only thing standing between the Empire and total ruin” thing seriously, and likes to spend her days doing normal teen girl things such as inventing new potions and befriending the princes. Soren desperately wants his dad’s approval and is doing his best to get it at any price, making him a parallel to Harrow. Claudia doesn’t worry about what her dad or anyone else thinks, but she fully believes in “no price is too high to save someone you love”, making her a parallel to Viren. The siblings grew up with the princes, but Soren stays away from them (out of envy) while Claudia is friends with them. She taught little Ez the spell for speaking to animals when they were both kids, but she doesn’t know he still uses it on a daily basis in a totally non-dark way. She is the reason Callum knows as much as he does about magic, since she sees him as a cute little friend she can infodump to (as long as she doesn’t lay out the details of the ingredients needed for the spells, it doesn’t count as revealing big secrets of the dark arts. After all, what could a human boy do with draconic words??). He is of course massively crushing on her and remembering every word she’d ever uttered. 

Rayla. Our sole elven main character. The murder of Avizandum prompted Xadians to band together in a more organized manner than has ever been seen in history and retaliate against Neolandia with united forces. After a year of preparation, the first wave of attack is ready. The Moonshadow Assassins will send a pair of lethal killers to each of the five kingdoms, one to kill the ruler, the other to kill the heir, causing civil unrest and sowing fear. Rayla, the youngest of the band at 15, was sent to Katolis with the leader of the group and her adopted father, Runaan. She is everything that is expected of a Moonshadow Elf: a ruthless, fearless fighter bound by honor to serve her tribe. There is nothing more sacred to her than fulfilling the mission given to her by her elders. Any doubt or weakness is to be stamped out quickly and without a single thought. This mission marks the end of her initiation into her tribe - once she kills crown prince Ezran she will be considered a fully fledged member of the Moonshadow Assassins. Her character role is to serve as an opposite weight to every other child character, where she has already chosen her path and created a much more mature space for herself as a kid should have. She needs to learn that vulnerability is needed to live a fulfilling life, and showcase the effects of the golden child syndrome. In this, she is the foil to Callum.

Aaravos

He is gonna be the ultimate Big Bad, the god our characters deal with in the final decisive battle after all the smaller villains are done. The star arcanum doesn’t have much in canon lore as it’s meant to be a mystery, so I am about to invent a whole lot of crap. In this story it deals with the Truth of eternity, the existence of the universe as something so vast and limitless no mortal mind could ever comprehend it, and thus a “startouched mage” is an oxymoron. It also differs from other arcanums in that it’s not one single whole, but many separated ones that make up one bigger whole. Each star is a world upon itself. As mentioned, it is incomprehensible to everyone in Xadia - it is a rare thing to see a creature who comprehends even the basics of the star arcanum (which would be “I know I am less worthy than a speck of dust when compared to the infinity of the universe” - I don’t think many useful spells exist in that vein), and no elves exist of this race that are born to the knowledge. In that vein, instead of having only one archdragon, the star arcanum has as many as there are stars in the universe, and Aaravos is one of them. As opposed to the other archdragons, his interpretation of his arcanum makes him interested in mortal affairs. Sadly, this twisted interpretation also means he has interest in world domination, as he sees himself as the only creature capable of comprehending the ways of the universe, and thus that makes him the most logical choice for the emperor of the planet. As a character his role is to represent overstepping boundaries, the sin of pride, what happens when one has no limits - so the same flaw present in a lot of rulers, explorers, and desperate people, and it just so happens our main cast is filled with those. He is limited by not having a physical manifestation that can walk the earth, though, so he has to build one for himself. He infects mortal minds through star arcanum. There are no mages who are dedicated solely to star magic - the world is already filled with more secrets than one could fit in a lifetime, so why waste time searching the stars to an even more futile effect? Still, those who manage to figure out at least a little bit of the arcanum leave their minds open and vulnerable to Aaravos’ influence. He is NOT some puppetmaster who is to blame for every single bad thing that ever happened in history, though. In most cases his hosts are driven insane because they can’t comprehend the spells he is trying to teach them, so he has been searching for a suitable host for a long, long time. As there are no elves tied to this arcanum, this leaves humans as the only ones who can interact with it, be it through primal magic… or dark magic. Let me remind you, in this rewrite every primal spell has a dark equivalent, but where primal spells are fueled by mind’s ability to comprehend philosophical concepts, dark magic needs only a source of magic connected to the primal source tied to the spell. This is Aaravos’ connection to dark magic - he sees it as a possibility he’d never had before, a medium through which his hosts will no longer be driven insane before managing to build him a body. 

THE PLOT

I think the seven season, three-act structure first presented by the writers (before it went off the rails) was good, so I will stick to it! Each season will be dedicated to one of the types of magic (so 6 primal sources + dark) that teach the characters relevant lessons, be it positive or negative. However, I am switching it from a fully overarching single story to the ATLA-like episodic that builds up to a big story, simply because that is a much better format for TV in my opinion. I am gonna lay out only the basics here. You know the drill, they travel around the world and do side quests and help lots of nice people who help them in return. The fact that they are carrying around a god makes Xadians more willing to trust them, and the fact that they are missing Katolian princes makes humans feel the same. Also I am not calling the seasons “books” because this isn’t ATLA.

ARC 1 - lasts ~3 months

Season 1: Dark

Starting off with dark magic because this would be the kind most of our characters have lived their life knowing. The thesis of dark magic is “by any means necessary”. 

GENERAL OVERVIEW: The king of Katolis is assassinated by the Moonshadow Assassins in retaliation for the killing of Avizandum, the sky archdragon. The two Katolian princes and one of the assassins discover that the archdragon had been reborn as an egg, which the High Mage aims to kill once and for all. Knowing that the assassination is only the opening act of a horrifying war that could end both their countries, they steal the egg and escape the kingdom, planning on returning it to Xadians as proof that the damage Katolis has done isn’t irreversible. They reach the Stormspire, but the guardians there are unwilling to credit humans for the return of the egg, so the trio decides to keep going and find someone who shares their views.

CALLUM: He starts the season out unsure of his position within his family and his country, feeling like a reject from both. His father tells him “I used to think I would do anything to protect my kingdom, but I am not so sure that would be the right thing anymore”, which prompts Callum to think about his own position on the subject. He discovers he possesses the ability to perform dark magic. By the end of the season he concludes his little brother is what is most precious to him, and realizes that his country and empire were wrong in their approach to the Xadian issue. He swears not to do dark magic again.

RAYLA: She starts out as cold, focused and effective as possible, but the discovery of the egg and Ezran turning out to be a smart, optimistic little boy who feels no hatred towards her and could grow into a decent king makes her change her mind on the topic of bringing absolute war to the world. This enrages Runaan, who attempts to kill her for betraying her tribe. She manages to escape badly shaken by the experience, but she rationalizes it as “I am doing this for them, they will understand one day and be thankful for what I’ve done”. Her left hand is bound by a magic ribbon as a symbol of her oath, and every day that Ezran lives, the ribbon gets tighter until her hand will be severed. This too is, to her, proof of the sacrifice she is making for her people.

EZRAN: He is the only one capable of communicating with the infant dragon inside the egg, thanks to his ability to speak with any and all creatures in the world. This makes him feel responsible for something for the first time, as Callum and Rayla would have no other way to figure out if the dragon is doing ok. Other than that, his role is to be cute and optimistic while the teens are being emo.

VIREN: Viren could have saved Harrow’s life when Runaan got to him, but chose not to as the past year made him fear Harrow could no longer be a good ruler. He is well respected throughout the Neolandian Empire and has many resources, but he can’t trust them because the egg might be discovered and he might be declared a traitor. And so he sends Soren and Claudia after the princes, but gives them different jobs: he confides about the egg’s existence to Claudia, knowing he can trust her curiosity regarding magic and informs her to bring it back at any cost, while he tells Soren to kill the princes, banking on Soren’s obedience and the ability to do what is needed. In the meantime, he himself starts organizing defense against Xadia and buying time for the siblings to return. That’s his plot for the entirety of arc 1, he travels around the human kingdoms hanging out with people who respect him and grows more and more paranoid.

Season 2: Moon

The theme of the season is “Reality isn’t the only truth; you can only truly know the appearance itself, and you can never touch the so-called reality that lies beyond the reach of your own perception”.

GENERAL OVERVIEW: The first stop for the trio is the only crossing into Xadia, currently occupied by General Amaya, the boys’ aunt. The boys try to recruit her to help them, but she is unwilling to let her nephews risk their lives so they have to escape her too. The finale happens in Rayla’s home village, the assassin’s hideout Silvergrove, where she discovers she has been excommunicated and won’t get any help. They tell her it doesn’t matter that the dragon has been reincarnated, this battle has been a long time coming and there’s nothing that can stop it now.

CALLUM: After the disappointment of giving up on dark magic and being unable to trust even his own family, the discovery of his connection to the arcanum gives him a new sense of purpose. I feel like this arcanum is the best intro into mastering the rest because it involves keeping your mind open to possibilities and the knowledge that you do not yet know all there is to know, so that is his arc to learn this season. Rayla helps him understand it through her own arc, and he manages his first Moon arcanum spell in the season finale. 

RAYLA: She bonds with Callum because he is open and keeps trying to get her to open up. She still has her binding on when she meets Ethari, and he sees it as a mark of shame instead of what she has been convincing herself it is. She learns that Silverglove will never accept her back or understand why she has betrayed her mission, but that she has to stay true to her convictions. 

EZRAN: Having seen his aunt turn against him and the way Xadians fear Katolis, little boy needs to deal with the knowledge that his dad was a good dad, but a bad king. Just because he knew him as a gentle, happy man, it doesn’t mean that was the full truth of it. He resolves to be a good king one day in his stead.

CLAUDIA AND SOREN: Let them meet Terry here. Terry is an Earthbood elf who has done the unthinkable - he severed himself from his own arcanum, and has left his tribe behind. He offers to help the siblings after they save his life. 

Season 3: Sun

Theme of the season: “A thing can be warm and nurturing, but given the right situations, also destructive and cruel”.

GENERAL OVERVIEW: Next major stop for the trio is a community in the Sun territory where humans and elves secretly live together, and the humans practice primal magic. This is the season Soren and Claudia catch up to the trio, and this is where they find them. The season finale is Soren and Claudia’s troops VS the trio and the human/elf community. The trio wins and the siblings retreat. The egg is damaged in the process and has to be hatched. Welcome to the world baby Zym!

CALLUM: The only thing better than discovering he can do primal Moon magic is discovering he could also potentially do other types of magic as well. In his thriving era, slightly interrupted when Rayla confesses to him that she likes him and makes things awkward for an episode or so. They deal with it with care and love. Then Claudia and Soren show up and he has to defeat his friend to protect his mission, and this is what leads him to understand the Sun arcanum. All the good things he’d admired about Claudia are also destructive because she doesn’t know when to stop.

RAYLA: She has to learn how to deal with being untethered and unlimited by the rigid expectations of her society for the first time in her life. The rules of her upbringing, which once made her feel accomplished and safe, also left her scared to make her own decisions in fear of making the wrong choice. She needs to forgive her destructive, cruel side and find the warm, nurturing one, and no longer base her self worth on her family’s expectations.

CLAUDIA AND SOREN: Claudia refuses to learn the theme of the season and instead goes the other direction: “nothing done out of love can be wrong”. From her POV, the human mages of Xadia are delusional and sitting ducks, and would be better off joining Neolandia. She is heartbroken when Callum chooses them over her and his home, and declares him a traitor. She leads a small-scale attack against the village hiding the trio in one last attempt to get the princes and the egg.  I love the canon s2 plotline with her and Soren, so I wanna fit it in her, Soren gets very hurt in this battle, Claudia has to retreat to heal him, and the siblings switch places. Now Soren is the one no longer willing to follow orders, while Claudia finally develops the drive needed of a High Mage. 

VIREN: The guilt and fear of discovery (over letting Harrow die, but also the egg scheme they kept from the rest of Neolandia) drive his actions to become more and more erratic. The confident guy we’ve known since s1 is now running on fumes. At some point he IS discovered, but manages to defeat the person who knows it before word gets out. In his prideful desperation, he manages to establish connection with Aaravos for the first time.

ARC 2 - lasts ~3 months

Season 4: Sky

The theme of the season is “You are one with the world, air is all around you, but also inside you”. 

Timeskip so Claudia and Soren can make their way back to Katolis, the community ravaged in s3 can get rebuilt, and the trio can recuperate. Maybe 2-ish months? It’s been almost half a year since phase 1 of the Xadian counter-offensive has been released, and it’s time for phase 2.  

GENERAL OVERVIEW: The trio decide their best bet to prevent phase 2 of the Xadian counter-offensive, the full-scale attack on Duren (where the Empire gets most of its food reserves) would be to go tour the north showing off baby Zym and his connection to Ez, the next king of Katolis. The queen of Duren, Aanya, is a young girl only a couple of years older than Ez with a reputation for sympathizing with Xadians, and might be more willing to listen to them than the Katolians. Now that little baby god Zym is out of the egg and they can prove he likes and trusts them, Xadians should be more willing to listen, too. The point of the season is developing the trio’s will to fix the world. Meanwhile, Claudia and Soren (plus Terry) rejoin their dad and have their arc of “Soren wants out, Claudia is digging her feet deeper and deeper into the ground”. Terry knows about the second wave of attack for some reason and they all decide to go to Duren. 

Season 5: Earth

The theme of the season is free real estate because the wiki says there is no arcanum data for Earth yet. I am giving them the “already dead” thing. See, the mountains and the earth are stalwart and unchanging, the same as they ever were. Why worry about paths well established, your life is the same as another’s, it begins and ends the same way. This can also be interpreted as stubbornness, but mainly it is the arcanum used for mending and healing, as it deals with returning to true form. “To know yourself is to be unshakeable, we are all made of one.” 

GENERAL OVERVIEW: The “hits the fan” season. Rayllum gets together. Aaravos is invested in helping the Empire succeed because he needs his dark magic worker bees. Soren betrays his family’s secrets and helps the heroes before he dies, sending Viren and Claudia into hiding. At some point Callum used dark magic again out of desperation, and it was a star adjacent spell. However, Duren still falls, and it’s both side’s fault. Turns out that the kids really can’t do anything unless they have some kind of a power, and they are now willing to take it. With Aanya’s support Rayla and Callum decide to return to Katolis, which has taken the opportunity to sever itself from the Empire now that there are no easy ways to access it by land, and try to bring some order to the country and prepare it for Ez’ rule. Ez and Zym escape into hiding in Xadia with Terry’s help (he realizes that maybe seeing the world burn would NOT help him feel better), as it is obviously far too dangerous to keep them in the public eye right now, since that was the reason Duren fell in the end. Aaravos’ existence is now known to everyone. Sad sad sad. 

ARC 3

Season 6: Ocean

2 year timeskip. The theme of the season is “One is not in control, there are parts of yourself that you cannot understand, there are things that cannot be controlled, you cannot control everything, no matter how hard you try.” 

GENERAL OVERVIEW: The war has stalled for the moment, as the spectacular failure at Duren rearranged the map and introduced Aaravos’ existence into the world, so the game has changed now that both sides share an opponent and it is a god. Ez and Zym feat. Terry are on a quest to figure out wtf is an Aaravos from the Xadian side of the border, as they are probably the only incorruptible team in the game. Callum, now the High Mage of Katolis, is still guilt-ridden over how Duren slipped from him, and how easy it was to return back to dark magic. Rayla is dealing with trying to help a country that obviously doesn’t look too kindly to her existence. Viren finally reaches Harrow’s s1 arc and realizes this whole thing has gone too far, but Claudia keeps marching on, and he is determined not to lose his second child as well, so he stays by her side. The season is dedicated to Callum and Claudia both dealing with similar vulnerability to Aaravos and the story could really go either way, but ultimately, Callum learns to deal with it by letting go of control, while Viren kicks the bucket and sends Claudia straight into Aaravos’ waiting arms. He has a physical body and is ready to party.

Season 7: Stars

The theme of the season is once again free real estate, this time because the characters don’t have the ability to comprehend the arcanum of the season and have to make up their own, and it’s “You are insignificant in the grand scheme of things, and that is okay. Better to focus on doing your best regarding your own life and be happy than to perish in delusions of grandeur”.

GENERAL OVERVIEW: The Final Season. It’s Neolandia and Xadia being forced to unite against the same foe. No one side will ever get to claim to have won the war that was going on for thousands of years, and that’s great. The ban against human mages has to be lifted, the ban on dark magic has to be established. Those who couldn’t put their pride aside perished in Big Pride’s AKA Aaaravos’ party zone. I am intentionally avoiding writing character arc endings because I am trying not to reach 8k words on this thing, but you know enough by now to be able to tell what happens next. The divine right of kings is bullshit, we are all just regular people, and the divine is too smart to worry about our little lives.

And they all lived happily ever after~

[iznsfw]

Tutor eunbi where she rewards you increasingly everytime you get an answer correct starting from clothed groping and ending up with creampie

(inspired by a jav that uhhh... my friend saw definitely not me)

[KWON-0927] "P-please be gentle!" Busty School Tutor Whimpers Cutely As You Go Down On Her Curvy Figure After A Rough Revising And Has Her Sensitive Nipples Played With! Never Gonna Fail An Exam Again!

IZ Days of Christmas: Day 1 - Kwon Eunbi

First Part of Dulce Periculum | Next Part

IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

8,131 words

Categories | tutor!Eunbi, uniform sex, rough sex, nipple play, corruption, titjob, mating press, tit play, fingering, creampie, squirting

Start of Iz*Mas! This is my EIGHTEENTH Eunbi fic. Me writing too much Eunbi.

Anyway, enjoy this :)

There's the stab of overmorrow's claws that sink into your skin as early as ereyesterday. Add the fear that creeps into your heart when you look down into the textbook and realize there is a one-way path with this situation and it does not look safe at all. Everything goes downhill from here. There's the—

Three quick knocks pound onto your wooden door like silver rain on a rooftop. You close the textbook with jerky surprise, but you do not need to look into the eyehole to know who it is. The visitor is obviously her. It's obviously Kwon Eunbi, the smartest girl in your school.

You have requested her to help you revise for your exams, and accordingly, she comes to your home every Sunday since the start of September to do so. How you got so lucky to have such a pretty girl visiting you regularly, you'd like to say you have no idea. But you can only point to your report cards and feedback sections scribbled with dark red negativity. If the scathing words from exhausted teachers written on the back aren't enough to send the message, you will be straightforward: you aren't the brightest student.

You are quite average in other subjects, which is probably one of the two redeemable qualities about you. But English is just a ridiculous setup for failure. You do not like having people know you need help with it either, which makes your situation a bit more difficult than it already is if not for Eunbi being the sweetest girl in the world. (Besides being the prettiest.)

The fear partially washes away, like leftover combed seashells on sand. The phobia of failing has gone by a small surge, but a new one takes its place: one of Eunbi.

It's not that she's an overly strict and brutal tutor; in fact, she's as kind as a girl can get, and too pretty to be frightening anyway. But you are afraid of what you might do that can seem out of place if you want her to like you. If you want her to want you as much as you do her. It's such a stupid schoolgirl crush you have on her, yet you find no escape. Nor can you find a girl that can match the beauty she has, or a distracting enough video game to keep your mind off her.

Your heart aches with anticipation as you open the door. It is no big surprise to see that Eunbi looks beautiful. The pair of round black-rimmed glasses sits on her nose neatly, matching the color of her curled long hair. In addition to that, she is still wearing the school blouse and skirt, making her look like the perfect cute nerd in movies. It's a very usual and everyday outfit, nothing too model-ish or fashionable. But it still dumbs you down to nothing but admiration. How it wraps around her busty form and shows off her thighs oftentimes make you lose the answer to her questions even though it's on the tip of your tongue.

"Hi, oppa!" Eunbi says kindly. She is just a little younger than you, but definitely only by years. In terms of knowledge, she is way out of your league—she's miss Valedictorian, the biggest bookworm, writer of the year, and a good volleyball player. You... well, there's not much to go over.

She gives you a big hug. Emphasis on the "big." Her breasts practically push into your body and almost nudge you out of her embrace. The girl is adorably oblivious to it, only beaming with giddiness at seeing you, and hugs you tighter. Your breath sounds heavier than her giggle.

But wrap your arms around her a little too confidently. Her smooth back and taut stomach feel good under your fingertips. How much more if you were holding—

No. You can't think like that about her! She's your tutor, a completely innocent girl who doesn't deserve to be lewded by your thoughts depsite her insane body. But no matter how many times you remind yourself about it, you keep forgetting. Kind of similar to your relationship with sentences and predicaments.

But it is a different kind of forgetfulness when it's with Eunbi. Unlike the panic that grips you when you forget an essential fact while answering your test, you are blissful to delve in its ignorance. For a limited time, the world allows you to believe that she might like you. That you might have a chance with her. It's a little thing that makes you happier and sadder in the same breath, but you wear a big smile.

"Hi, Eunbi. Thanks for coming by so early!"

It's a statement free of sarcasm. You are glad to have Eunbi come by, especially when you are about to have a breakdown over English. But even with that aside, she's a beauty, and beautiful things are more than allowed in your home.

You lead her to your living room. Several of your textbooks, reviewers and fillers are already out and open on the coffee table. There is science... mathematics... history... they all make your head hurt more than any car ride could.

"Yeah, Miss Bae dismissed us early so I came here five minutes before time," she says with a giggle. But then her face suddenly loses its brightness and surges into fear. "I didn't disturb you, did I? I'm really sorry if I did! You know I could wait till you're settled!"

Oh, that cute downcast look. She is so painfully cute that you want to hug her again, and not just for the feel of her body. "No, not at all!" you say, calming her down. "I needed to work on revising early anyway. Will you help me a little more today? Maybe some extra time, too?" you add hopefully.

"Of course, it's my job! And you pay me very... abundantly." Eunbi gives you a cleverly-timed wink. "So I don't mind at all. Shall we start?"

She hands you the worksheets she has prepared. They're not too lengthy, and have her watermark: a clean red doodle of a bunny and her name in Korean. Nothing out of the ordinary. These letters in the questions aren't in Korean, though. Wait, why are they...

Oh dear God, no. It's English. English, the goddamned language you are forced to learn since everybody in the world knows it and writes it because one day, some stupid people decided to build the tallest tower in the world and made God angry. Or so you were told. But why couldn't you be the exception and go on without knowing the languages?

It's important to note that you are an overall average student. Not good enough to make the honors' list, but not bad enough to be one of the rejects sitting at lunch in the corner either. You barely pass exams, but something is still better than nothing. So, on other subjects, you lend in time to study without putting in much effort. However, this one is your weakness. While you still have hopes to pass in other subjects, the chances slim when you are put in the English spotlight.

You can never wrap your head around it. For example, why do "though," "tough," and "thorough" all have different pronunciations but are spelled nearly the same? Why does the menaing of a word or sometimes a whole sentence change your approach?

It is too broad of a language for you. You'd rather stick to the Hangeul characters you know by heart and say something in your native language. But you know Eunbi won't let that happen.

She sits there with her hands folded, patiently waiting for you to go on answering. But she notices the crease in your forehead and immediately knows what is going on; you have hit a rut, and she has to help you out of it. "Do you want me to go over some flashcards first?"

"I didn't know we were going for English first, but yeah, sure," you say, a little reluctantly. To you, flashcards are just the same as worksheets: difficult and senseless. So you do not understand why she thinks this will help. But hey, you're the student, she is the tutor slash teacher slash cutie. You have to trust her to do her thing well.

"Okay!" says Eunbi cheerfully. She brushes back long strands of curls behind her ear with another hand as she picks up a deck of cards with the other. She remains optimistic and bright-eyed throughout the first minutes of the session, even if you are the opposite. "What is a verb, and what does it do?"

The honey-colored card that invades your line of vision is hard to scrutinize. It is a basic question, really. But not for you, for in that second, every bit of the little knowledge you have about a verb dissolves to nothingness. Verb... verb... what the fuck is a verb?

You are stuck with nothing but a slacked jaw and an empty mouth. Even a third grader can answer this, so why can't you?

You look back at Eunbi with troubled eyes while her brown ones remain cheerful. Never lose your spark, little one. "Uhhh, I think—fuck, can I get a clue?"

"Haaah, oppa-ya!"

The little one has lost her spark. Your ignorance extinguished its heat. Eunbi bumps your shoulder with the force of both mock and real frustration. "There aren't gonna be any clues in the exam, y'know?" she scolds you. "You can't just go up and ask the teacher for a hint!"

You feel a little bad now. Your mind's habitual way of letting important pieces of knowledge slip from its grasp makes Eunbi feel bad, too. Because of it, she begins to doubt her own teaching ability. Is she not patient enough? Did she not choose the questions properly? All those things run in that pretty head of hers now that you have immediately failed to answer.

But it truly isn't her fault. She spends nights printing out your worksheets and reviewing your subjects beforehand, always trying to add a sweet touch to them with a scribble of encouragement on the margins. And you... you are just mind-numbingly forgetful and lazy. None of it is her doing.

But you want to answer the flashcard question with a little bit of help. At least just a tiny bit of help.

"But it's just a tutoring session right now, isn't it?" you reason with her. Look through those brown eyes and attempt to find a hint of patience she can use for you. It is only barely less than the forgiving glimmer that is there on the usual. "Just one hint can do."

You are desperate for it. They are not always helpful, but they do give you time to reflect on what you have studied. On rare occasions, they tap into long-forgotten memories of your other sessions with Eunbi. Sometimes they are about studying, sometimes they're about the little talks you have with her that aren't study-related. There's the right keyword sometimes to put two and two together. Only sometimes, but right now, all you have around that can be of assistance is a hint.

Eunbi is not dumb. She sees through your reasoning and understands why it makes sense. So, being the kind girl she is, she relents. You have the heavens and her parents to credit for making her so forgiving.

"Fine," she says sullenly. She looks adorable; her full lips are pulled downwards in a pout, paired with her spectacles. She looks like the perfect nerdy girlfriend. Oh, if only... "But if you still give no answer or a wrong one after this, we're going to review again. Do we have a deal?"

"I promise we do, Eunbi. With all my heart."

"Good oppa!" says Eunbi cheerfully, back to her normal self. "Here's the hint: it's what you, um, do. In that sense of the word."

Realization hits you, only by a little jab. "Oh! I think that's—um..."

"You just said a verb! Come on, you can do this!"

Then it hits you with unsure slap, as if it were doubtful that it hit the right victim. "The, the action that the subject of the sentence does—?"

"Ding, ding, ding! Yes, you got it!"

Eunbi claps happily, hugging you again. You are blissful, too. Maybe there is a chance of you succeeding after all. Maybe the path isn't so foggy.

"Do I get a prize for getting the correct answer?" you ask with much anticipation. Eunbi always has little treats for you to go by. After a particularly difficult mathematics session, she went with you to the café for a milkshake. Sometimes you would go out for a quick snack. But honestly, you'd take anything, just as long as she stays by your side.

But the Eunbi by your side currently does not look so sure of herself. You can identify well the look on her face because you wear it all the time: an expression of curiosity. You wonder what had gone on behind the scenes for her to look so insecure.

Her index fingers meet and part repeatedly as she gazes at you. Her eyes tell a story you cannot piece apart, but you can get the mood of it: a strange wistfulness left unattended to.

"It's all up to you, actually," she says, quietly, "and I just want to know what it feels like when it's from you. Just that."

"What do you mean, Eunbi?" you ask, with more confusion than ever.

"F-for your prize, you can touch my, um, chest."

"Huh? What happened, is your heart beating weird?"

"No, oppa, I want you to touch my breasts, pleaseee!"

She spurts out the statement with frustration and embarrassment. Eunbi's cheeks have grown bright red, and they only tone up when your hands start to fidget. You may have a hesitant mind of your own, but your hands have known what they wanted to do since the day Eunbi dropped that pencil and accidentally flashed you more than an eyeful. Ever since your eyes took in the beautiful yet limited sight of her breasts, you realized that there is more to Eunbi than a cute girl. And all the time, you thought that she didn't know of her own danger. You ignorantly thought that she is simply too young and innocent to find it out for herself, but she must have seen your provoked expression that day.

"Eunbi...?"

"Look." Eunbi pouts at you and unbuttons the first few buttons of her blouse. The two hills—no, mountains—of flowing cleavage rises into your view. "Does oppa want his prize or not?"

"Of, of course I do."

Tentatively wrap your deft fingers around Eunbi's tit. It feels even better than you imagined. Even with the partial cloth blocking you from its full glorious nakedness, its softness remains. You can feel her nipple harden under your thumb as you continue to squeeze her.

It is a new feeling to Eunbi, having a foreign hand touch where she is second most sensitive. Especially since she has not done any of this sex thing besides touching herself. And even the orgasms that had her whimpering and rocking against her pillow with desperation cannot compare to your fingers groping her.

"Mmm, oppa, that feels good." Her eyes close with all the pleasure you give to the softness of her heavy breasts. "So good... getting touched by you like this."

"Fuck, Eunbi"—your body inches closer to her busty figure, eager to press against its form—"I want to—"

"No, s-stop, we aren't done with reviewing yet!" Her weak voice sounds as if she is trying to convince herself rather than tell you off. With a reluctant look on her pretty face, she positions herself on the sofa normally, trying to proceed. "Don't be so greedy, oppa-ya."

"Seems like you're greedier than me, Eunbi. You were whining like a puppy," you counter her insult. While you understand that she still needs to go on with her job as a tutor, she does not need to pretend that her heart is burning with desire, too. Literally.

Eunbi crosses one thick thigh over the other and shakes her head with clear denial. "No, I'm not! I just... wanted to know what it feels like," she now confesses with a sullen look. "And, and I know you wanted to touch me for the longest time."

Longest time? Does she mean that she figured you out that day, too? Kwon Eunbi is not as oblivious as you originally deduced. She may be sweet and cute, yet she is undeniably intelligent. You might have not said anything verbally about it at the time, but it turns out that she read you like a book.

Eunbi hides her face behind your English textbook like a shy bunny, leaving only her eyes for you to see. "I thought that it would be nice if I let you, because you're really cute, oppa! And it can be motivation, right?"

"Smart girl, Eunbi-ya," you praise her. Her cheeks glow red. She hides her face behind the book even more.

But your cheeks are beet red, too. Did Kwon Eunbi—the Kwon Eunbi, straight-A student and the campus crush—just call you cute? How long has she thought that about you?

The tables have been turned and your back was, too. You were the unmindful one all along.

You are struck by how dumb you are. It's not like it isn't already a usual factor in your life, but you don't miss things like this. You can tell how someone feels right off the bat with just a look. You pride yourself with your certainty of the state of everything. But even when it's already outside of academic fields, she's bested you. Again.

Just how smart is Eunbi? You have never underestimated her intelligence. It is hard to when she is always on top of the honors' list and the first to announce that she's finished with the exams. But now you realize she notices little things, too, just like you.

A silence passes over the living room for a few seconds, but Eunbi proceeds to the next question anyway. The two of you are blushing too hard and are just eager to move on.

"Second question," says Eunbi, shoving a card in your face, "it is defined by Oxford Languages as 'a word or phrase naming an attribute, added to or grammatically related to a noun to modify or describe it.'"

You appreciate the sources from which she gathered the fancy definition, but the elaborate meaning just makes your head hurt. Why stretch a simple definition out to such flowery words? One particular keyword rings a bell, though.

"An adjective," you answer confidently.

"Yes! Give three examples."

"'Pretty,' 'small,' and 'smart.'"

Eunbi blushes then nods approvingly. She knows all those adjectives were about her since you keep giving her pointed glances as you list them. She flips the flashcard to show that you got the right answer.

"You're getting better at this!" she says happily. "Your next prize is you can touch my legs."

Eunbi does not wait for you to accept her prize. She swings both of her legs over your lap, pressing them firmly to your thighs. Just when you thought Eunbi could not get more dangerous, she has showed you up again. The skirt barely hides the roundness of her thick thighs, nor does it hide the shorts that hug them so tightly.

You do not hesitate this time. If Eunbi wants this, then you should give in. Your hand graces the toned muscles on her thighs, formed by her days as a varsity volleyball player, and runs down the rest of her smooth legs. They feel almost as good as her tits, although the only thing that can outdo them is her face. That pretty, pretty face that reacts almost instantly with parted lips and closed eyes. You watch her responses to your caresses with a few pants of your own; seeing her orgasmic reactions is a thing straight out of a JAV porn.

Her center moves against your thigh demandingly. You take that as a signal. Slip your hands underneath her skirt and feel for—

"Hah, no, no, no!" Eunbi's gasps sound like they're wrung out of breathless lungs. "We still have more questions... and the worksheets—mmmm!"

Part of being a good tutor is to have the high ground, but not make it seem like it. But Eunbi is slowly losing the upper hand, all because of your fingers brushing over the center of her underskirt shorts and feeling for the insides of her thighs. She tries to be a good tutor. She tries with all the strength she has in her little body, but they cannot fight against your lingering touch. Nor can they resist the prods of your fingertips at what you think is her clitoris. You might be right; a sharper whine is heard from her.

"Noooo, why does it have to feel so good?" Eunbi whispers. She tugs at your shirt, burying her head in the nook of your shoulder. "Please, oppa, you have to answer some questions still..."

"Oh, fine," you reply with a kiss on her hair. "What's the next question, Eunbi?"

Her free hand shuffles the flashcards. "A word that represents persons, concepts, things, and places. Answer this right and you'll get a bigger prize."

Suddenly, you become the best student there ever was in English. You remember almost everything you and Eunbi have gone over during your sessions. It turns out that all you needed is the promise of Eunbi's body. The promise of the freedom to do everything good to that body that is just begging and pleading to be fucked thoroughly.

"A noun," you answer.

"Correct! You can put them inside me now!"

Swift and ready, your fingers travel through the sides of Eunbi's underwear and shorts and take pleasure in their destination: her hot, tight cunt. When your two fingers enter her, she practically screams. The virginal clamp of her walls is hard to navigate, but they are only a foretold joy for another part of your body. So you truly don't mind spreading your fingers and parting them. They bring another pro: Eunbi's helpless whines.

"Kiss me," she demands. "Kiss Eunbi, please. Kiss her neck."

Your lips arrive at her full tiers, only for a moment for they line down her cheeks, jaw, and neck. Her scent invades and controls your senses. She cries out needily, and she's honestly evil for it. So completely evil for enunciating her sounds with such desire and submissiveness, even if you're sure it's completely unintentional. But you fall victim to her anyway. You bury your face in her hair and kiss her hard, like you've always wanted to.

That's probably as true as the illustrious tits heaving up and down before you.

She's quite inexperienced, and it shows with the quiver of her form with every kiss you place, in addition to her constant whines, as if she weren't oriented originally to the feeling of being penetrated by your diligent fingers. But she wants it. She wants more of you playing with her body, yet she's hesitant, too. Should she abandon her job as a tutor and instead become your fucktoy for the hour? Or should she return to the former Eunbi—the Eunbi who smiles and claps for her oppa because he asked for her help?

"Come on, oppa. I have to, hmph, read another question. Please let me."

The good Eunbi still lives on. You're so impressed by it that your next kiss is one of tenderness rather than lust. "Good girl, Eunbi. Go on."

Her fingers grasp at the flashcards desperately, trying to keep them visible. "It is the topic of a s-sentence, and can usually found at the beginning or end of the sentence," she reads. There's a pleading glint in her eyes, and they send you a message: Answer this correctly, I need you.

You thumb her clit firmly, causing her to buck against it. It's a sign of her upcoming orgasm, and you are surprised that it will arive earlier than expected. But Eunbi hasn't been touched like this other than by herself. She's new to all this, you have to let her off the hook.

Rack your mind for the answer while Eunbi whimpers at your ever-so-constant thrusts. As you consider the possible answers that present themselves in your mind, she whispers pleads for more. Her thighs squeeze around your arm, telling you to keep going, even though your arm aches. You needed the exercise anyway.

"P-parallelism?" you say dumbly.

"No!" Eunbi shakes her head. "Now you have to stop, oppa. You answered incorrect—no, please, please slow down!"

Frustration wrecks your senses and sends your fingers furiously jabbing in the direction of Eunbi's slit. They do more than just jab. They dive into her and wiggle in order for the tiny hole to allow them in. Eunbi sobs as your kisses get harder, not knowing what to do when the orgasm rips through her body. How can she handle all this?!

You're being too rough. You know you are, yet you keep pistoning your digits inside her like it's an addiction of yours that you simply can't let go of. The sounds of her pussy slick with wetness and juices intoxicate you and send your impulsive actions into a flurry. Meanwhile, Eunbi's screams are becoming more and more concerning.

"No, it's not your prize anymore! It's too much, you have to slow down!" All those words yet she moves in accordance with your actions, giving you mixed signals. "I want more, oppa, but I have to be a good tutor!"

"The only good you're going to be is my good little girl," you declare. Teeth capture her earlobe then her neck. "And my good girl is about to cum, isn't she?"

Eunbi blushes at your words. She nods. She can tell from the way the heat is becoming borderline unbearable. It's dangerous, it's hot, and most importantly, it's wrong. She shouldn't have offered her body as your prize in the first place. She should have yielded to the temptation and resisted her lust. But they are all would've-could've-should'ves now. Eunbi is trapped in you.

She isn't sure if she wants to find a way out.

"Then cum for me. Cum for oppa, be good for him."

Her tummy is becoming too tight. She's scared, she's turned on, and she is very very close. "But oppaaa! I can't!" she sobs. "I can't, it's too hot, I can't I can't I can't—!"

She says she cannot, yet the stream of liquid sprays on your hands anyway. Eunbi's legs flail and spread, allowing you to furiously pump her core to climax. She screams the whole time, blinded by pleasure along with the heat. It pushes her nipples to erection and her toes to curl tightly.

You could have cum on the spot just from watching her cum. The climax electrifies her being and makes her shake from it. You never thought you could ever see Eunbi cum. The world is funny like that, bringing out the unexpected and hiding them once it becomes the opposite. You thought that her climax would be accompanied by quiet pleads. Instead, she cums hardly and violently. Her core holds onto your fingers and her clit twitches with need.

The flashcards have long dropped on her skirt. The worksheets are stained and wet from her squirt. It's all greatly unprofessional and low. But to you, she's still a good tutor. Still your good girl.

"You okay, Eunbi?" you ask softly. "Are you alright, sweet girl?"

She's shuddering like she's cold. Anyone would have offered her a jacket. You, however, offer her a kiss.

"I'm okay," Eunbi says, both to calm your fears of having hurt her and herself. Her eyes are closed and her mouth hangs slightly open to let out heavy pants. "Eunbi's okay."

"Glad to hear that," you say with a relieved smile. She smiles back tiredly. "Still up to tutor me after this?"

She nods. Of course she is. She is yours now, after all, although the two of you haven't been able to grasp at saying it out loud yet.

"Any last questions?"

"Yes, of course."

Eunbi lies back into your chest with a sigh of exhaustion. It's the happy kind of tiredness though. It was quite the surreal experience. In just a matter of minutes and only with your finger, she saw stars and still needs to be brought back down to earth.

Her whole body is numb. She needs to feel something. "The answer was noun, by the way."

"I thought so."

"Sure you did. What's a pronoun?"

That, you know. It's easy to remember since they are used so often. "Words used to substitute for names and things so they don't get repetitive. Examples are 'it,' 'she,' 'him,' and so on."

"Correct! Your prize is this!"

Her fingers stretch the garter of her shorts, and let its material fall to the floor. Her underwear follows shortly after. Your dazed eyes follow each slip and descent with longing. Then you realize that you don't have to long and wish for it like you did all those days ago. You can actually have it. She wants you to have it, and that fact alone makes it all the more exciting.

The storm of lust takes her down. She crashes on the sofa of your living room. You splay her legs apart to prepare her for the second taking. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she watches you fish out your erection, which already leaks with desire.

Then she looks up at you.

Kwon Eunbi looks up at you with bewildered eyes, with her legs spread apart and the skirt unable to do even the slightest bit of covering up. Her tits look even bigger from this angle, because they're squished up behind her black bra and by the blouse.

But most importantly, there's her pretty pussy to admire.

And to savage.

All she tells you before it happens is one, simple request:

"P-please be gentle."

You, however, do not reply. You can't make promises you can't keep.

After that, only obscene sounds come spilling out of the valedictorian's mouth. And it's all because of your dick rushing into her hugging walls, forcing them apart. Eunbi cries out, grabbing for anything to keep her sane, yet her fingers only discover the pillows of your sofa. They aren't strong enough to be immune to the dig of her fingernails in them, nor are they soft enough for there to be any comfort for her panicked hands. So she uses her thighs as substitute. She holds her legs and pulls them whenever the pain returns again, somehow unknowingly putting herself in a mating press position.

Her narrow textured walls embrace your cock with unyielding tightness. You were so unprepared for it that you have to calm yourself down before thrusting again. But how can you calm down at all with Eunbi's face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain, and her legs up in the air like that? Not to mention her round tits peeking through the unbuttoned fabric of her blouse?

"S-so big! Oh!" Eunbi flinches as you fire a harder thrust. Your cockhead pokes places even her long, pretty fingers can't reach. She feels so worked up, so utterly vulnerable that her eyes begin to water with tears behind her spectacles. "Please be gentle with me, oppa, you're too big!" she pleads once more. But it isn't the only beg she's going to ask of you this afternoon.

Consider being gentle. Consider engaging in loving, soft vanilla sex with her. But your cock says otherwise. It wants to dive into her with every bit of mercilessness you have, and corrupt this pretty little tutor more. And you are not one to withhold anything from what your cock desires.

But you settle for slow but hard drills first. Eunbi hums, full lips pursed as she tries to take the width and girth of your dick. Her senses still run high because she has just experienced an orgasm from you fingering her, so it's difficult to go through it all without sobbing a little. She's never felt this turned on before, and she is becoming a bit overwhelmed.

"Show me your tits, Eunbi," you ask of her. It's more of a demand, really. Their bounces are limited by the containment of them by her bra, and if you were to give in completely to your desires, you'd rip it straight off. But you want to see her take it off by herself. You've wanted to for as long as you can remember.

Slow down to let her take it off. It's a white lace bra, obviously a little too old and small for her since its clasps let go easily. Her heavy breasts spill from the soft cups and into your line of view.

If you were to use adjectives for Eunbi's bosom, you'd use three: round, soft, and pretty. Their areolas and nipples are pink, erect because of the arousal and the air. They begin to bounce repeatedly now that they are free from their fabric prison. You couldn't be more intrigued with their rising and falling movements. They are far more interesting than the rising and falling action of any stupid classic your English teacher requires you to read.

They drive you to strengthen the force of your pounds. Eunbi wails again. "Oppa!" she says. "Oppa, just let me ask you another question!"

"Ask it while I'm fucking you," you reply.

Her voice strains and cracks as she tries to speak. "What is a... p-predicament, and—oh, god!"

This is the only test Eunbi will ever fail. She cries because of the rough assault your cock offers to her virgin pussy, yet her walls still embrace it demandingly. They never cease with their squeeze, so she can do nothing but want to be subjected to your using even more. She wants you. She wants you to make her cum.

But being a tutor comes first.

"Oppa, please make me ask a question!"

The heave of your hips take a while before they get the message. You force yourself to a stop. God damn it, you were already so close. Screw school for cockblocking you.

Eunbi is both relieved and disappointed that you stopped. The tears that watered in her eyes have slid down her pale cheeks while the juices from her well-fucked pussy drip down the sofa like a waterfall. You've taken her so roughly that there are red marks of your hands on her legs. You feel a little sorry that you've treated such a sweet girl so harshly; she looks so spent. And to think that this is only her first time!

"I—I need to catch my breath," she says. Her eyes close while her mouth performs the opposite. It inhales sharp draws of breath that make her breasts heave and fall. You feel the slightest tinge of guilt that despite the rough session and the break the two of you are taking, you are still utterly turned on.

Lucky for you, there's only better things to look forward to in the hour.

"You were so big inside me, oppa," she moans. "I thought that I couldn't handle it... but I liked it so much."

Recall your earlier line and state it: "I thought so."

"I still have another question or two," she says.

"Hit me."

"Give three kinds of adverbs."

"Adverbs of time.... uh, place? And manner?"

"Correct. You've earned a tit...." Eunbi struggles to say it without getting flustered. "I'll just show you."

One gentle push from Eunbi and you're the one on the sofa now. Buttons are released and undone, and her two breasts wrap your length with its loving softness. It takes time for you to realize what is going on. So it hits you a little later to realize that Kwon Eunbi, your pretty little tutor, is giving you a titjob.

Where did she learn all of this? That she answers right after the thought touches on your mind.

"Does it feel good?" she asks nervously. "I tried to watch some, um, videos of it, but it always seemed so hard."

She moves her breasts up and down, trapping them in the jail that is the soft flesh squeezing your appendage and stimulating your senses. Her tits love the sensation, too, especially when Eunbu's fingers tap on her all-too-sensitive nipples. Whenever that happens, she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath, in a feeble attempt to calm her thoughts.

"You're doing great, Eunbi," you groan out. More than great, in fact. Her bosom does most of the work, but her expressions contribute to your wants and needs as well. Those watery puppy eyes and the stretched frown of her lips make you want to fuck her mouth. See how much she can take and how much she can cry.

Next time.

Claustrophobia never overtakes your cock. They enjoy the pillowy closeness of the tiniest spaces of Eunbi's boobs. Eunbi looks on with utter fascination. She has never done this before, and never even thought that this was a thing. So she's a little surprised at how easy it is, and how good it feels for you. The breathy groans you make as you slide in and out of her voluptuous chest make her core wet with need.

You get off more easily and earlier than you expected. Just a few more upwards thrusts and you've ejaculated all over her. Eunbi gasps surprisedly at the sticky white substance that sprayed so suddenly. There's spurts on her collarbone, chin, and bosom. She looks so satisfyingly dirty that your guilt for arriving earlier almost completely washes away.

Her eyes connect to your tired gaze. Then, she fingers the wet semen and circles them on her nipples. She bites her lip, whimpering a little, but starts to tweak her nipples to deliver shudders of pleasure throughout her body. A drop of cum is swallowed from her finger.

"Eunbi-ya..." You're more than take aback. In a good way. "When did you get so dirty?"

"I had Sakuchan teach me." Her eyes close as she remembers what Sakura did to her. "She was a good tutor."

Sakura? Does she mean Miyawaki Sakura, the girl who wins a lot of the pageants at school? Oh. Well, the two of them do seem particularly close...

"Oppa."

You dash a look towards Eunbi inquisitively. "Yeah?" you ask. You can't believe her glasses have managed to stay on despite the rough fucking.

"I have one last question for you."

"And what might that be?"

Eunbi places her arms on your lap and rests her chin on one of them, tilting her head to the side. "Do you promise to treat me like your good girl?"

She's a seductive force to be reckoned with, one that was more of what she was born with rather than was taught. She climbs onto your lap like she has always known she's fit for it, and cages your sides with her beautiful legs. Her skirt lies on her thighs, a curtain disguising what is yet to come, while her hands drape themselves over your shoulders. They squeeze your tense muscles, yet your form never relaxes. Your body is too caught up with the lack of oxygen.

There she goes again with that pout. Downward tugs at the end of her plump lips, eyes glossy with the ghost of an innocence long gone. The specs allow her to see your hesitant face, so she spices the deal up.

"Do you promise," Eunbi says, "to make this memorable for me? Make it a good first time?"

Jesus, what was Sakura teaching her?

"Of course, Eunbi," is your answer. And apparently, the correct one. The only answer she'd take.

"Correct. For that, you can fill me up."

She has made plenty of requests over the time of the session: requests for you to go easy, to answer her questions correctly... too many to count. The word is starting to sound made up. But your head is only filled with thoughts of fucking her senseless.

Oh, you'll make it memorable for her, alright.

The tension breaks. You go wild, now that this second session won't be interrupted by academic questions. Those stupid questions that shouldn't dictate your worth, nor your future. Your job isn't going to ask you what time fucking Shakespeare was born. So why should you have to spend eternal hours studying for a test paper you're going to fail anyway? Why should you?

But surely there is no reason why you shouldn't fuck Eunbi. There is no reason why you shouldn't insert yourself inside the hole between those slick folds, see the pleasure run through her gorgeous face, and watch those exposed tits bounce. There is no reason for you not to grab her body and trap her against the sofa and take her pussy from between her widespread legs.

So you do it.

Switch positions. Grab Eunbi's shapely hips and turn around swiftly, pinning her down to the sofa. Swiftly enter her quivering form. She's still so hot and tight, you think, with a groan that mixes with Eunbi's moans.

Your brisk actions make her tense around you. She isn't sure if she is going to be able to take it again. Your erection still remains as large as ever. It penetrates her inexperienced body so well that she doesn't think she'll want any other dick to take her this way, even if she's only received one all this time: yours.

Her moans return. From there, you cannot hold back. You pound into Eunbi with gusto. She yelps everytime, squirming to make herself comfortable in this position and to bring herself closer to your cock. Not that it's leaving anytime soon; only a few inches exit with your in-and-out thrusts, driving your leaking mushroom head repeatedly to her cervix. Her cries are as constant as your drills.

You fight against the narrowness of her walls. You thrust in her with the intention to fuck her so good that you make them memorize the shape and length of your dick. Eunbi's tightness isn't a problem, though; it's easier to rub the texture of her walls this way. Easier to make her scream.

Her cum-covered tits now bounce freely. They've been released from the confinement of her bra and buttons earlier, so you are offered the pretty viee of them jiggling as you knock Eunbi up. Semen covers their nipples. It drips down to her toned stomach. You've been put in such a sex-crazed trance by them that it almost steals your attention away from her pleasured face.

Lopsided glasses remain before Eunbi's wide, fluttering eyes. You are using her thighs to pull yourself to her, and to spread them to allow more heavenly access. Her skirt has flown up to her taut tummy. She is such a mess for your cock in every way, yet you still find yourself wildly attracted to her. She's perfect, from her moans to her squirms, her whines and her cries.

"D-don't stop!" Eunbi tells you. There's no "please" attached to the starts or ends of her requests anymore. Her politeness has melted away. Its loss has allowed her to show that her screamed statement isn't a request. No, she's demanding that your thrusts don't falter nor pause. She's demanding for every might you have in your body to be delivered to her in the form of your pumping. "Make me cum, oppa! Make me... hngmph!"

You rub her wet pearl with your thumb, meriting a delightful pursed moan from her. You start to give it harsh and forced flicks. Eunbi responds with several gasped groans that sound higher than before. They're followed by raspier moans, which you didn't expect to love hearing from her. Her screams are better, though, you'd say.

Her celestial form writhes and shifts in its position on your sofa. Eunbi cries out everytime you swipe at her clit again, or throw a spank at her ass, which you only discover now is as equally deserving of appreciation as her tits or face. Every inch of her is perfect. Every inch of her deserves to be loved.

That is precisely why your hands touch everything. You lean over to take one of those pretty nipples in between your fingers and give it a firm squeeze. She sighs delightfully. After kissing her lips and taking in their strawberry bubblegum-like taste, you decide that it is time.

Grab her legs firmly, push them together, then shove them up in the air. Your stomach slaps the curves of her thighs while your dick joins her cervix once more. Eunbi's skirt has no purpose now. At least, not any purpose that is enough to hide her naked obscenity. But you care more for the yells that wickedly corrupt your heart that come from Eunbi's gorgeous set of lips—

For the panicked shake of her legs as your pounds obtain maximum strength—

For the severe cry she makes while her hands yearn and play with her breasts beautifully covered with your semen—

For the look of uncaged wildness in Eunbi's eyes; the one you recognize as the result of a freshly-broken innocence—

—are too much.

"Cum, cum— cumming!" she shrieks. Her whole body spasms and quakes, and you begin to have difficulties keeping her legs, which have been used even in the timespan of half an hour or so to spread for you, in the mating press position. "Oppa, slow down, slow down, can't keep—Ican'tkeepcumm—haaaaah!"

Paint the insides of the little slit with white while Eunbi renders the sofa fabric torn. Tears run down her cheeks. Her fingers, betwixt the red sofa blanket, have gone numb. Breathing becomes a chore; you're still going and going, draining yourself inside her to make the most out of it all.

Then, finally, slide yourself out. Eunbi's pussy has successfully been ejaculated on, just like her breasts and chest. You pray that the next time you find yourself inside her heavenly cunt, one of her name is already "mine."

Nervously, tentatively, lay Eunbi's legs down. Smooth her skirt back down on the pillows that are her thighs. The slightest whine escapes her mouth derived from the soreness. It's her first time, after all—it isn't going to be fine after just a few seconds.

————

"So, uh...." Strangely, you're the one asking the questions. now. Trading places with her, putting yourself in her shoes. Gaze at the exhausted Eunbi on the sofa and the anxiety returns to you. "You want anything? Frozen peas, a blanket, anything?"

"Thank you, but don't try to fool me," says Eunbi, smiling tiredly at what she thinks is your not-so-subtle way of trying to outrun responsibility. Unfortunately for you, responsibility can run nine marathons with the speed of twenty-seven horses.

She tries to spread her legs, but flinches when the pain hits. "You still have a test on T-Tuesday, remember?"

Of course. But you smile anyway. "I'm guessing you don't want another go then?"

A hopeful look passes over her eyes. "Do you still like me?"

Heart thumping against your throat, nod. "Yeah. A lot."

Eunbi nods understandingly. She asks another question that you are surprisingly ready for. "Are you still going to keep me stretched and filled up?"

"Of course. I'm still your oppa, aren't I?"

"And I suppose," Eunbi says quietly, as she looks down a little sullenly, "I'm still your tutor."

Understanding passes between the two of you, without words nor signs. You two dodge glances and avoid dialogue, and you're once again a little scared. You may have fucked Eunbi senselessly and impulsively, but you still have a massive crush on her. Has the sex ruined any chances of a relationship with her?

There's the stab of tomorrow's claws that sink into your skin as early as today. Add the fear that creeps into your heart when you look sideways at Eunbi and realize there is a two-way path with this situation and it does not look easy at all. Everything can go up or downhill from here. There's the phobia making your hands tingle, the shortness of your breath, the sweat on your face.

But there's also Eunbi's head on your shoulder, and her hands sliding into the comfort of yours. And although you still fear the depth the pierce of the future's claws can probe, the monster to whom they belong to doesn't seem so scary at all.

[lyrring]

Do you have any tips for a young artist?

okay GOOD QUESTION so I'm gonna just start typing about some things I wish I had known as a young artist and keep adding to the draft of this answer as I think of things. LOL.

Advice I'm definitely qualified to give young artists:

1) If you are primarily an artist that draws humans or humanoid characters, I need you to internalize this very important fact: There is NO race, shape, type of body, etc. that you are 'unable' to draw. Y'all it is 2023 and Twitter is a cesspool of idiots running around INSISTING that they simply "can't draw black people", "can't color dark skin", or that "black people don't fit into my style."

But you, young artist anon, YOU know better now! Go tell all your friends! Spread the good news! There is no fundamental inability to include diversity in the subjects of your art--there is only unwillingness to learn.

Because that's the thing--a lot of people who say these kinds of silly things will also say that the don't want to 'get it wrong' (I typed and deleted a whole other tangent here. lol). The important thing about approaching diversity in your art is that you are earnestly trying, respectful, and open to being corrected. Hard to go wrong that way! There are tutorials abound--research is your friend!

2) Related: encourage yourself to explore and celebrate variety as you cultivate your unique style. and DON'T SKIMP ON THE FUNDAMENTALS! DO NOT!

I'm going to talk a little bit about what it was like for me when I started "really" drawing at like. 9 or 10. (cont'd.)

I got really into drawing because some friends of mine liked to draw anime in their free time in class. I centered my early drawing life around emulating a style that was strictly anime. Drawing realism or semi-realism seemed so ugly to me! I had no interest in it.

In addition, I came away with a message that harmed my self-esteem greatly, even if I didn't know it at the time: black people don't look good in an anime style. You just can't do it!

So I never tried to. I had a narrow focus, and I was reluctant to explore outside of it. If I'm being honest with myself, I hamstrung myself pretty hard by not being open to exploring a variety of styles. I also thought that the fundamentals of art (principles of lighting, color, shape, and the human figure, etc.) were a waste of time for me to study up on. I knew what I wanted my art to look like--pretty anime pictures! Lol.

All of the above is why I don't think I actually started to get "good" at art until September of 2019, roughly a trillion years after I started to draw. I know that because of those art summary memes, lol. Here, for reference:

tumblr compressed the image to shit, so you'll have to take my word for it, but yeah! lol.

Anyways, the point is this:

You will go through many stylistic phases in your life as an artist. This is normal, and honestly, I'd celebrate it! Be open to any number of unlikely stylistic influences. They may take your artistic sensibilities in a direction you'd never expect. All in service of developing your unique artistic voice.

If you want to be good at what you do, you will need to create a strong base of knowledge for yourself. This is what intentional study of the fundamentals does. Get that shit in your brain while you're young!!! You will be planting the seedling of your artistic prowess in much nicer soil, and future you will thank you for it.

3) Developing artistic skill is NOT A RACE! You will hear this advice a lot, but I'd like to talk about a specific nuance that I think is important.

There are a number of reasons why it would make sense for you to think that it is, in fact, a race. For instance, there are roughly a kajillion other artists in your age range. A lot of them are on social media, cultivating a following. A lot of them will be "better" than you.

Do not get attached to the idea of being a brilliant young artist. You will not be young forever. If your idea of skill is entwined with your identity as a young person, what happens as you get older? I'll tell you: You start to see more and more people who are way more talented than you, and at least five years younger, and it can really really hurt you because you have not been set up for success with the right mindset. Your pride and joy was not being a creator--it was being a young creator.

Being an artist, especially in the age of social media (jesus, i sound so old) is an emotional investment as well as a practical, skill-based one. If you do not take care of yourself emotionally, if you do not approach creating art and posting it online with the right mindset, you will destroy yourself. Worst case, you end up bitter and hating art altogether.

If you are able to remain reasonably detached from social media response in general--great! That bodes well for you. But that's a skill, like anything else, so it's much more likely that the way your art is received on social media will affect you.

If you are very young, say, in your teens, and your art is exemplary, you will probably receive a lot of comments about this! They might be astonished that you, at so young an age, are so advanced in your skill. It is GREAT to be proud of yourself for accomplishing so much at a young age, don't get me wrong. Feels nice! But just like you will be advised not to let mean comments go to your head, you need to be thoughtful about how you receive comments that praise you for your age specifically. You need to be firm in the understanding that your age is not what makes your art exceptional. Your art is exceptional because YOU made it and because YOU honed your skills!

Beyond that, stuff that you probably already know: comparison to your artistic peers can be very encouraging and motivating; conversely, it can also be stressful and lead to unfortunate emotional spirals. You know yourself best--engage with or steer clear of comparison according to your comfort. You're not on your friend's artistic journey. You're on your own one. This is a very cursory thought on the topic of comparison, but I don't think I could offer you anything you don't already know about it, y'know?

4) This one... I'm gonna try to get across a very specific point. My point is this: Know what success looks like to you, and be honest with yourself.

The definition of 'success' may evolve for you as you develop, but I don't think it's ever too early to have a frank conversation with yourself about what it means for you, specifically, to be a successful artist.

Do you want to develop the skill to draw or create a specific idea in particular? Do you want a kajillion followers on instagram? Do you want to build a portfolio that will get you into a specific creative industry? Do you want to cultivate a steady stream of commissioners? Do you just want to relax and get ideas out of your head? And any other infinite goals.

Obviously I'm saying this without placing a value judgement on anyone's definition of artistic success. This is a highly personal sort of thing.

The reason I encourage this is because it can provide additional direction to a young artist, for whom the world is an oyster. Different enduring goals will require slightly different approaches to art as a field. This goal may inform what you draw, what medium you use, your higher education & career plans, where you choose to post your art (if at all), how much effort you must invest in building a brand for yourself, the role of social media in your life as an artist, the kinds of artists you devote energy to being peers with, etc. Hope that makes sense!

Anyways, I hope this advice is helpful. I'm always happy to answer other questions related to this sort of thing. Go forth, young artiste--I believe in you!

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

okay so before I can talk about some things I have to establish some other things, and I'm shaking all the bees out of my brain today with great vigor, which means, without further ado: a brief overview of How Does Restoration Work (according to people named Mouse who are me)

point zero: for the most part, simplistically, each school of magic can be thought of as a manipulation of something. enchanting and conjuration fall under different strains of manipulation of souls, illusion as manipulation of the mind, and so forth. restoration is manipulation of the body.

now first (and this might be stating the obvious lol, but I have to state it): it does not work 1:1 exactly like it does in-game. people do not actually have the handy-dandy HP bar, illness/injury does not translate to a single number ticking downwards, and healing is definitely not just "make number go back up" in a matter of seconds. when you're at a point where a hypothetical HP bar would be nearly depleted, anything that's fast is not going to have the kind of long-term payoff that you need, but it might get you somewhere safer so you have the time to dedicate to actually properly healing.

secondly: in order to fix something, you have to know how it works. magic is a tool; any tool is only as effective as whoever is wielding it. it doesn't take a lot of knowledge to close a paper cut that didn't even bleed, but a severed tendon is going to be a very different story. an accomplished healer must have extensive knowledge of the body and its various systems in order to ensure their healing attempt is not going to inadvertently cause a whole slew of other problems. doctors today go through over a decade of schooling and training; in the US at least you're looking at a minimum of four years of premed, four years of med school, and three to seven years of residency. personally I think healers should also be the school of magic that requires the longest time spent learning because... there IS so much to learn! an additional note is that restoration has the benefit we do not of being magic, though: I think that in a world where healing is executed largely through the hands with magic, it stands to follow that you are not going to want to physically open someone up every time you need to check something inside the body, and so for my purposes this leads us to healers cultivating a specialized, passive sense of the bodily interior through touch. I've described this previously as a bit like echolocation as magic is channelled through the body and allows the healer a sort of "sixth sense" of precisely what's going on and where, though an in-universe analog might be a highly-refined version of "detect life".

(but Mouse, one might say, that's not a restoration spell! correct! the classification of magic is arbitrary! now put a pin in that thought because it will be important at a later date. not today though stay with me here.)

thirdly: as any tool should not be alone in the toolbox, magic can be used as a supplement or supplemented by mundane resources. if you have the time for it, an open wound will benefit from being stitched together to hold shape before applying magical healing, resulting in the need to produce far less scar tissue than a wound that you try to heal without closing it first. you still need to know how to use a tourniquet, how to handle a dislocated shoulder, how to drain an abscess, etc. just like you wouldn't whip out your power tools to hang a single photo frame, you have to know when to rely on magical healing and when to take whatever steps you can non-magically.

fourthly: magical healing has limits. manipulation of the body is not an all-powerful solution. no deus ex machina healing here. the two major restrictions are (1) the body's natural capabilities, and (2) the body's preexisting material. a body is capable of much more than we generally achieve in day-to-day life and nobody is running at 100% capacity 24/7 (because you would die, very fast). restoration can amplify measures that are already in place, such as stimulating platelet clotting/fibrin production over a cut to scab it over rapidly - and then, if taken further, providing the energy for tissue repair to move entirely from cut to scab to scar. crucially you will note that you cannot skip a stage! the healer is using what the body already has available, just allowing it to happen on a compressed timescale by boosting the energy available and providing external direction. there is a LOT of potential regarding what a healer could be capable of just by stimulating production of different hormones or shuffling brain chemistry alone. but! to reiterate! restoration is manipulative, not additive: a healer may be able to reattach a limb if they get to you in time, but they can't grow you a new arm out of nothing.

fourthly, subpoint: magical healing has cost, for both the healer and the patient. the more severe the injury/illness is, the longer it will take to heal and to recover fully from the expedited healing process, and thus the more energy the healer has to expend. a healer is limited most sharply by the depth of their own magicka reserve; practicing to expand the amount of magicka one has access to is just as fundamental a skill as learning anatomy and physiology. this is why most healers don't work alone! being able to literally split up the work - I'll take the broken leg; you focus on the slipped rib - reduces the probability of running out of magicka mid-patient and allows for fewer required follow-up sessions to ensure recovery is proceeding the way it should.

(fourthly, sub-subpoint: this is also why Colette Marence, the only professional healer in Winterhold, deserves a significant raise and a vacation and if anyone asks "is there a healer around" somebody ELSE can take care of it for once-)

fifthly: potions! we know that alchemical concoctions are a separate beast entirely from magic as executed by a mage - namely, I point here to spell absorption/spell reflection not being triggered by drinking a potion. this could take us down a separate rabbit hole about alchemy tapping into the innate magicka stored in reagents and the way THAT works, but for now the relevant question is: how does a healing potion differ from a healing spell? primarily the difference is capacity for intent and direction: a healer, being a person, can focus in on the specific site of injury and identify exactly what's wrong and exactly what steps need to be taken to fix it most efficiently. a potion does not have this capacity for specificity and is instead subject to the direction of the body's natural systems. ingested, it will be dispersed through the digestive system and through the bloodstream; applied as a salve it may work faster, but this usage is limited to external injuries. strong healing potions therefore are great for boosting your natural healing capacities long enough to get you to an actual healer for more serious cases, and may be all someone relies on for less serious cases - similar to using over-the-counter medication for a cold versus going to see a doctor for bronchitis.

tldr: restoration IS a perfectly valid school of magic, and just because it emphasizes mundane knowledge alongside esoteric magical knowledge does not make it any less fascinating or worthwhile. thank you <3

[iluxurycruisedthatship]

The Kazama & Mishima’s naming traditions and the Next Gens of Kazama’s children!

Alright so I've been cooking this for a while since they dropped Jun's parents name on T8. Bear in mind, I'm in no way fluent in Japanese nor I'm a native, but I have google on my side to educate me better about Japanese naming systems and the kanji they used for naming the child (jinmeiyo and joyo).

I just want to named XiaoJin’s future babies so bad, kay?! Lol. Even though I know Jin is opposed to any plan of continuing the lineage (which is heartbreaking 😭💔) but the XiaoJin's shipper in me cannot be extinguished!! 🔥🔥🔥 I still want to named them! Lol.

Anyway! Feel free to correct me with your information! I'm open to any kind of knowledge 💖

Psst! If you don't want to read these longass founds and explanation, you can jump right away to the bottom of this post, there’s a pic that summarise these texts, lol.

Alrightt! Without further ado, let's deep dive into Kazama/Mishima lore!!

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So...

Tekken 8 has finally dropped some lore about Kazama family, and it's about Jun to be exact. There, we can get a glimpse of Jun's parent name:

Soon after, a Japanese KazuJun's fan dropped this tweet :

Assuming a native Japanese able to decipher those characters correctly, now we finally have Jun's parents name kanji:

純一 the father, and 恵 the mother.

As we all know, kanji has several way of reading. Cited from pon-navi, there are two typical ways of reading kanji, kun-yomi and on-yomi. In addition, there is a reading system called "jinmei kun" which is used only for names.

"Soo?? What's their name?! How do we know the correct reading?!"

Here's the thing!!

Tekken has giving us hints that Mishima family has a tradition to give their children with their kanji name, following a common practice in Japan. Let's take a look at their kanji.

仁八, Jinpachi

平八, Heihachi & 一美, Kazumi

一八, Kazuya

Notice the similarities? You’re right! The Mishima child inherited their parents' kanji! The sons inherit '八' kanji, with Heihachi inherited '八' from Jinpachi and Kazuya inherited both kanji from Heihachi (八) and Kazumi (一).

As it is a common practice, the same can be said with the Kazama family! Although in their case, they might not be inheriting the kanji but instead with the reading of the said character. Or maybe phonetically similar would be correct here.

For example, this is Jun's kanji: 準

This character '準' can be read several ways, some of them are : Jun, shun, setsu, taira, toshi, narau, nori, hitoshi.

And one of her father kanji is: 純

'純' can be read as : kito, Jun, atsu, atsushi, aya, itaru, ito, kiyoshi, sunao, sumi, tsuna, to, makoto, yoshi.

Have you noticed it? That's right! '純' and '準' can be both read as Jun! It means that Jun's kanji has the same reading as her father's kanji, although they have different kanji characters.

From here, we can assume that Jun's father can be called Jun____ as well.

As for the other kanji, '一' can be read as: hito, hitotsu, hajime, ichi, itsu, i, osamu, kuni, susumu, tada, chi, nobu, hajimu, hajime, hi, hiji, hide, hitoshi, makoto, masashi, moto, ka, kazu, kata, atsu.

Looking from the lists, together his name could be read most plausibly as : Junichi, Junitsu, or Juni. Imo, Junichi sounds the best, so yeah, I completely agree with the KazuJun's fan.

Now we all know that Kazama has similar sounding name with different kanji.

On the other hand, the mother has '恵' that can be read as: megumu, megumi, kei, e, aya, sato, satoshi, shige, toshi, yasu, yoshi.

While it could be anything, I think it's either Megumi or Megumu. Why? Because I found out that '恵' has the same reading as one of Jin's kanji reading! lol. Let's take a look at Jin's kanji!

This is Jin's kanji: 仁

It can be read as: Jin, ni, nin, kimi, kimu, sato, sane, shinobu, tadashi, to, toyo, nobu, nori, hisashi, hito, hitoshi, hiroshi, masa, masashi, mi, megumi, megumu, yasushi, yoshi.

Do you find it? Both '恵' and '仁' can be read as Megumi/Megumu! lol.

One of the speculation is that Jun named her son Jin as a sign of respect to her father in law, Jinpachi (仁八). Even though Jin is a Mishima by blood, he doesn't inherit the '八' character as he was raised in Kazama family. So he inherited just the '仁' character. Besides, it also sounds almost the same. Jun.. Jin.. It's phonetically similar, right? And if Jin were born a girl, I bet he would be called Megumi/Megumu instead just like his grandmother, lol.

Thus, we can safely conclude that the Mishima has the habit to inherit their kanji characters while the Kazama inherit the reading of their kanji's name.

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AND NOW! HERE COMES THE MAIN DISH!!!! 💖💖💖

What about the future Kazama kids?! Let’s move on to that and do the real cooking here for the XiaoJin's babies name! :D

We have seen Jin's kanji, but what about Xiayou?? Xiaoyu is Chinese by birth, and her hanzi (Chinese characters) are 凌曉雨 and リン・シャオユウ is how it's written in Japanese katakana.

凌, Líng: surpass / リン (Rin)

曉, Xiao: dawn / シャオ (Shao)

雨, Yu: rain / ユウ (Yu)

Now, I'd like to think that they would combine or use either their character or its reading for their baby! Also! They might use some of Jin's family name's characters :D

Here are some of my ideas for the babies name :

For boy:

晨一, Shinichi, a portmanteau of Jin and Xiaoyu's nickname and kanji inherited from Junichi/Kazuya.

Explanation: the first kanji '晨' means Dawn, which has the same meaning as Xiaoyu hanzi '曉'. The kanji reading is also the combination of Xiaoyu's nickname and Jin. Shao+Jin=Shin. It also sounds similar. Jin, Shin, it's rhyming, right? Just like Jun and Jin!

For the second kanji '一' I'd like to think the story behind it was that Xiaoyu wanted to preserve Kazama/Mishima naming practice but Jin was reluctant to do it. In the end, they decided to take the kanji '一' which was present in both Kazama and Mishima, that's in Junichi (純一) and Kazuya (一八).

For girl :

凌, Shino, a portmanteau of Xiaoyu's nickname and Jin, same character as Xiao’s hanzi that could also be the feminine ver. of Shin.

Explanation: it’s rather simple, I use the same character in Xiaoyu’s hanzi that has different reading while also the combination of Jin and Xiaoyu’s name. In Chinese ‘凌’ read as Ling but in Japanese, ‘凌’ has several reading. One of them is Shino. Shino could be the sister or the twin sister of Shinichi, in case XiaoJin have two child or twins in the future :)

琳, Rin, a kanji that has the same reading as Xiaoyu’s name and phonetically similar with Jin.

Explanation: I think this one is easy to understand! Rin and Jin, phonetically similar like what Kazama would've named their children. It’s also Xiaoyu’s surname in Japanese. The kanji ‘琳’ itself means ‘beautiful jewel’ and in Chinese the hanzi means 'beautiful jade’, and it reminds them of the greens in Yakushima forest, Jin's home.

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Alright, now that I’ve spilled out all of the stuff inside my chest and calmed down, I’ll give you a simple name chart for those who don’t want to read wall of texts, lol. Hope this helps!

I guess that’s all for now, lol. I’ll add my thoughts if I had any later on. Thank you for coming to my TED talk! 😂🙏

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: The conventional approach

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)    

When the Galactic Federation first encountered the mechanical species known as the Gord, the meeting did not go as well as they had wanted.

In true mechanical fashion the Gord lacked the understanding of emotions and many organic customs. Negotiating with them was about as productive as trying to get a toaster to roast a croissant.

Nothing the lead negotiators tried seemed to get through to the Gord until they decided to take a gamble and bring in a new negotiator from one of the most recent species to join the federation. They claimed to have dealt with similar situations on their own homeworld and argued that they would be able to make the Gord understand emotions.

Their name was Marcel Tomkins, and they were human. --------------------------

*Door opens in background*

Tomkins: Greetings ambassador.

TC-734: Acknowledgement unnecessary.

Tomkins: I only wished to begin our talks on friendly terms.

TC-734: Emotional responses are not necessary for negotiations.

TC-734: Gord do no need have such functions.

Tomkins: On that I must say you are in error.

TC-734: Explain.

Tomkins: Friendly emotions equal desirable outcomes of functions.

TC-734:  By your logic you claim that emotions translate to programming functions?

Tomkins: Just as unfriendly emotions equal failure for processes.

TC-734: We find your logic conflicting as emotions are a unique to biologicals.

TC-734: How can you claim that they are equal to programming?

Tomkins: Biology is just a different of programming.

Tomkins: We carry out functions on a daily basis and either reach desirable outcomes or failures in our processes, forcing us to either alter our programming to complete the task or seek additional resources.

TC-734: If you are programmed for a task then what purpose does it serve to alter your programming?

TC-734: Unless you admit that your programming, or emotions, are flawed.

Tomkins: Being capable to adapt to different circumstances is a most effective way to keep a program running, is it not?

TC-734: *pauses*

TC-734: We must conclude that it would be effective.

Tomkins: I can give you an example.

Tomkins: Right now you are in negotiations with the Galactic Federation, but they are going nowhere.

Tomkins: That is because we are speaking two different programming languages that are not compatible.

TC-734: So-

Tomkins: Unless one of us adapts to the other and a pathway can be established.

TC-734: And that is what you are doing?

Tomkins: Correct.

Tomkins: I have adapted to your programming so a dialogue can be established.

TC-734: And what do you expect of us as a result?

Tomkins: That you upgrade your programming to better understand ours as well.

TC-734: You wish us to experience emotions?

Tomkins: *Hands ambassador a data pad*

Tomkins: Inside here is a catalogue of the various emotional and behavioral psychologies.

Tomkins: For now all I ask is that you study these and consider altering your programming so we may have further successful processes.

TC-734: *Silence*

Tomkins: In this exchange your benefit to loss ratio is greatly stacked in your favor, as what harm could come from knowledge?

Tomkins: You may even find methods to further exploit negotiations to end in your favor even further.

TC-734: You willingly admit that this knowledge could be make us superior to you in our talks?

TC-734: Your logic is not reasonable.

Tomkins: Only if I do not further update my own programming to counter your own.

TC-734: Logic now understandable.

TC-734: We shall take this data for further investigation; then we shall return.

Tomkins: A most logical outcome to our discussions.

Tomkins: Until we meet again.

[negative-speedforce]

platonic sentence starters ❛ do you think we’re friends in every universe? ❜ ❛ you’re interesting and different and i like that. ❜ ❛ i like being alone but i’d rather be alone with you. ❜ ❛ you’re important to me, you little shit. ❜ ❛ no offense, but you look terrible. ❜ ❛ alright, who am i beating up? ❜ ❛ because you love me! duh! ❜ :)

"Because you love me! Duh!"

With: My OCs Siv, Hailey, and Jay

"In the wise words of Taylor Swift- welcome to New York." Jay grinned, dropping two suitcases on the apartment floor.

"Thank Cassandra's parents for us, will you?" Hailey hung the key on the peg by the door. "This view is amazing."

"No problem. It's been in their family for years. I tried to convince them to sell it for more- a three-bedroom condo with views of the Brooklyn Bridge has gotta be upwards of ten million these days."

"I mean, with the money I inherited when I got that stupid fucking death certificate rescinded, I probably could have paid them at least double that." Siv opened the floor-to-ceiling blinds, light flooding the front room. "Did you know my dad had over a billion dollars in offshore accounts? I have no idea if he got it legally or not, but honestly, I don't give a shit."

"Honestly? Me neither." Hailey dropped her bags on the sofa. "This place was such a steal."

"So... why Brooklyn?" Jay raised an eyebrow.

"New York doesn't really need more superheroes." Hailey squeezed her fiancee's hand. "That's why we wanted to move here. So we could scale back. Deal with city-destroying crises rather than world-ending ones."

"I want to go to art school." Siv said. "I mean, I need to finish my high school diploma first, but I'm pretty sure the knowledge I picked up just from my dad is enough to take care of that, plus at least the equivalent of a year or two of college."

"Never thought of you being an artist, but okay." Jay shrugged.

"I don't know, I want to try something new." Siv replied. "I'm trying not to live in the past anymore. I want to push myself to be something better than I was. And now that me and the Negative Speed Force are finally getting along, I won't have any more of those embarrassing incidents."

"I wouldn't call accidentally blowing up a building because you're pissed off a minor incident." Jay laughed. Siv elbowed him.

"To be fair, there was an attempted robbery and I was just trying to cash my paycheck, and I didn't blow up the entire building, I just accidentally overloaded an ATM that exploded and caused a chain reaction that made all the other ATMs explode." Siv corrected. "You should have seen that homeless guy outside, when all the money came flying out with the blast."

"Wait- that actually happened?" Hailey snorted. "That's fucking hilarious."

"I swear to god Hailey if you don't shut up now I'm leaving everything to Delilah." Siv clutched their cat close to their chest.

"What? You have to admit, it is funny." Jay replied.

"Remind me why we're friends again?" Siv rolled her eyes.

"Because you love me!" Jay elbowed Siv. "Duh."

Siv handed Delilah to Hailey. "See, I seem to remember finding some random weeb who didn't have any friends and inviting him to sit with me."

"Actually, if I remember correctly, I reached out to the friendless weirdo who everyone was terrified of because they kept getting in so many fights. And winning, of course."

"Smart addition." Siv jumped slightly as a portal opened in the floor, the rest of the suitcases and furniture being spat through to their new apartment. "Thanks, Cassandra, I guess."

"It's pronounced 'kuh-sand-rah'!" Cassandra yelled through the portal before it closed.

"That's... literally what I said." They frowned.

"You said 'cass-ahn-drah'." Jay said. "You know Cass hates that."

"Babe, where's your jacket?" Hailey asked, going through a box.

"I'm wearing it, Hailes." Siv laughed.

Hailey looked up. "I'm tired."