#still works without them. but it's more fun with them in it

[luvergirl-866]

dreams, fairytales, fantasies

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 7.9k

c/w - language, drinking, fluff, and ofc smut (sub p, sub a, strap, eating, fingering…it’s a lot) (also heavy usage of pet names bc i am a sucker for them)

a/n - this is just a real depiction of what happens when lesbians go two weeks without sex 😔. no but fr, i hope yall enjoy!!! (feedback much appreciated, esp bc this is not edited) (also, im majorly crediting the smut queen @basketball-lesbians bc ease and stiff changed the way i write smut forever).

The much anticipated make-up sex doesn’t happen until a week later, which is about six days after they’ve actually made up—which they manage without the involvement of sex. And that’s a great thing for them, considering they have a history of resolving arguments via orgasm, but they also can’t give themselves the credit because the no-sex thing wasn’t really their decision. (If it had been up to them, Azzi would have jumped Paige’s bones that very night they made up).

That day, though, was spent talking, reliving their breakup and the horrible year afterward for the sole purpose of truly processing it. They had continued talking during that time, of course, claiming to be ‘best friends’, but they meticulously danced around the topic of their high school relationship and the fact they were both miserable once it ended, grieving it in their own ways. They talked for hours, and both of them quickly came to realize that there was so much they hadn’t told each other. Azzi was shocked to hear that Paige spent her entire freshman year moping around, never getting out and having fun like Azzi wanted her to do. (“Seriously? I thought you hoed around?” she said when Paige gave her this information. Paige shrugged and said, “I told you I did, so I didn’t seem lame. But yeah, no. I smoked a lot and looked at our pictures and that’s—well, yeah, that’s pretty much it.”)

Paige was just as shocked when Azzi told her she tried going on a date with someone else, just to get the breakup off her mind, and they kissed at the end of the night and she went inside and cried for a long time. (“I didn’t know you went out with anyone,” Paige said, not particularly jealous, just a little hurt because even though they were exes that year, they were still best friends, and they usually told each other everything. Azzi picked her thumbnail, eyebrows drawn at the memory. “It hurt too much. I didn’t even tell my mom.” That, if possible, made Paige feel even worse).

Anyway, by the time they talked everything through (with some crying involved, and maybe a little kissing, too), it was late at night and they were both emotionally exhausted from the day. They’d gotten ready to sleep and laid in Azzi’s bed and murmured about how much they’d missed each other for about two minutes before they promptly assed out.

And then it was the week, their time consumed with classes, homework, practice, and even grownup things like grocery shopping. They spent as much time together as they could, practically magnetized to each other, attached at that hip when they were in the same vicinity. But they were both swamped with homework and while they tried to do it together that Monday, they quickly realized that it was impossible to focus around each other. Or at least, Azzi did. (“C’mon, we’re doing okay,” Paige said, at approximately 1 A.M., when they had been at it for four hours and had gotten absolutely nothing done. “I wouldn’t say that, P,” Azzi mumbled, slinging her bag over her shoulder and pecking a sulking Paige on the lips. “No more school around each other, ‘kay?” She couldn’t help but be amused at Paige’s exaggerated pouting. “I think we’ll be okay. See you tomorrow, baby.”

That night, her phone had blown up with messages from Paige, most of them silly selfies of her pouting at the camera as she sat at her desk with schoolwork laid out in front of her. Even that was enough to distract Azzi from her work).

So, no, it’s not until Saturday—the night of their second-first date—that the make-up sex (that can’t really be considered make-up sex anymore) happens. But, as the saying goes, good things come to those who wait. And that must be true because that night turns out to be very good indeed.

It all starts before the two of them are even together, with Azzi picking her outfit for their date. She’s never been good with decisions, and this is a big one in her book. She needs to wear the perfect outfit—something sexy and cute and romantic and alluring all at once. An hour into choosing the outfit, Caroline is beginning to regret offering to help.

“Okay, you’re just overthinking it now,” she says, exasperated, watching as Azzi frowns at herself in the mirror.

“If I don’t overthink it I’ll end up looking ugly,” Azzi says, turning this way and that in the mirror, making sure the outfit looks good from every angle. But when she takes a step back, leans her head to the side just so, and turns to the left, the shirt suddenly makes her look atrocious. With a frustrated sigh, Azzi takes it off, tossing it onto the ground.

Caroline groans, flopping onto Azzi’s bed. “What was wrong with that one?”

“Everything,” Azzi replies, going back to her closet to try again. “Has my wardrobe always been this bad?” she mutters to herself.

“You look good in everything, Az,” Caroline says. “And your clothes are cute. Paige is going to love you in whatever you decide to wear.”

Which is true—Azzi could be wearing jorts and a flannel and Paige would still swear up and down she’s the prettiest girl in the world. But love and want are two different things. After two weeks of no sex Azzi needs to be wanted.

“You know what your problem is?” Caroline asks as Azzi rummages through her clothes.

“What?” Azzi asks, sort of desperately.

“Your bra,” Caroline says simply.

Azzi looks down at her bra, then turns to Caroline, a little confused. “It’s a cute bra, though?”

“Yeah, it’s cute,” Caroline concedes, leaning back on her hands and giving Azzi an up-and-down look. “But I thought you were trying to get laid tonight?”

Azzi nods, because duh she’s trying to get laid tonight. It’s all she’s been talking about all week.

Caroline wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Then, this isn’t really about your outfit. It’s about what’s underneath.”

As she stares at her genius best friend, Azzi nods slowly, starting to get it. “I need lingerie.”

“Yup.” Caroline smiles, satisfied. “As soon as you put some sexy panties on, I promise you, girl, you’re gonna feel better about yourself.”

Azzi is already reaching back into her closet, opening her special drawer and rifling through it. “Should I wear one she hasn’t seen before?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Caroline agrees, standing up and walking over to Azzi, peering over her shoulder at her array of underwear. “And don’t tell her you’re wearing it, either. It has to be a surprise.”

Azzi pulls a few sets out, but none of them particularly catch her eye, and it isn’t until they’ve been searching for a few minutes that Caroline reaches into the closet and grabs a still-sealed box, the logo of a designer lingerie brand on the lid. “What about this?” she asks.

It takes a moment for her to remember what the box contains. She’d bought it just a month ago, on a whim, and while it had cost her a fortune she also couldn’t not buy it. She’d, of course, had Paige in mind when she’d bought it, but they haven’t exactly had lingerie sex in awhile—with their busy schedules, they’ve only had time for spur-of-the-moment quickies and lazy mouths and fingers in the mornings before practice.

But this—this is going to be post-date, make-up sex. The absolute perfect occasion to wear insanely expensive lingerie catered specifically for Paige.

With an excited smile, Azzi (with the help of Caroline) gets all laced into the set. And once it’s on, it becomes surprisingly easy to choose the perfect outfit. Because Azzi knows, by the end of the night, Paige will forget all about what she’s wearing, the memory replaced by what she’s not.

———————————————

Paige, of course, tries to fuck her multiple times before they even get to the restaurant. It starts immediately, when she comes to pick her up and they share a chaste hug and kiss, and Azzi takes the flowers from her hands and turns to find a vase to put them in—Paige’s eyes trail down to her ass and stay there for longer than she’d like to admit. And then Azzi is carefully arranging the flowers, talking about how excited she is for their date, when Paige comes up behind her and holds her tight. It’s a gesture that Azzi thinks is innocent until Paige kisses her neck and murmurs, “You look good, Az. Makes me wanna make us late for our reservation.”

Azzi’s entire body heats at that, but she playfully shoves Paige away, not about to let their hormones get in the way of this date.

But then, it happens again, in the car on the way over. Paige’s hand rests on Azzi’s thigh while she drives, which isn’t unusual, and Azzi doesn’t question it—that is, until her fingers trace a slow but sure path between her legs. Azzi lets it go farther than she probably should, only pulling Paige’s hand away once she’s fully touching her clothed center. Laughing, Azzi returns Paige’s hand onto her side of the car. “Your thigh-touching privileges are revoked for that.”

Paige groans. “I didn’t even do nothing, don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself, weirdo.”

And when they get to the restaurant, Paige opens her door for her, guides her in by the small of her back, pulls out her chair. It reminds Azzi of a more mature, experienced version of the Paige she dated in high school, and it reminds her exactly why their relationship was so perfect back then. It also reminds her of the aching need between her legs, the one that’s been there for two long weeks and that now practically burns in anticipation. But, she forces herself to ignore it, to just focus on the romance of it all. Paige decides to make that difficult by running a foot up and down her calf, and when she hisses at her to stop, Paige laughs and says, “You’re imagining things.”

It’s not five minutes later that Paige picks up her phone and begins typing. A flash of annoyance comes from the side of Azzi that thrives off attention, more particularly Paige’s attention, and that’s so used to constantly having it it’s a little off-putting when she doesn’t. But then, a moment later, her own phone buzzes, and Paige sets her’s down with a satisfied little smirk.

Azzi rolls her eyes. “You’re stupid.”

“Look at your phone.”

“That’s rude,” Azzi teases. “We’re on our first date.”

“We’ve been on a million dates before,” Paige says, which is technically true. “Look at it.”

Amidst the usual lighthearted, joking tone of Paige’s words, Azzi also catches a hint of something demanding, something that leaves no room for argument—at least, not without repercussion—and it makes it impossible to focus on the setting they’re in without also thinking of the events that will occur when they get home.

She picks up her phone, and there’s a text from one ‘P Boogs 💗’. When she opens it, she finds a stupid, horny text, nothing short of what she expected: can we go fuck in the bathroom or??

Rolling her eyes, and a little relieved that Paige didn’t actually write anything sexy (because if she had, Azzi’s not sure she would’ve been able to resist), she kicks her under the table and sets her phone down. “No, Paige. What’d I say about no more public restrooms?”

Reminiscent of a small child, Paige crosses her arms and slumps back in her seat. “I rebuke that.”

“You don’t know what that word means,” Azzi waves her off, before motioning to their plates. “Now eat before your food gets cold.”

Azzi has only two glasses of wine, so by the time they’re driving home she’s the perfect amount of tipsy. Wine also tends to make her horny, which doesn’t hurt the situation.

“You’re really okay?” Paige asks for what seems like the millionth time. “Because if you’re even, like, a little drunk, we don’t have to—“

“Paige,” Azzi says before she can finish that god-awful sentence. “I’m mostly sober. We’re all good.”

Paige glances over at her, and when she sees the firm look in her eyes she nods, relaxing into a sly smile. As she focuses back on the road, she says, “Good. Because I have an empty apartment tonight.”

The thought of it—the thought that Paige asked her roommates to clear out for the night, knowing what was to come—makes Azzi shift in her seat. The ache between her legs is crossing into painful territory at this point.

By the time they get inside Paige’s apartment, every instinct in Azzi’s body tells her to jump Paige’s bones as soon as the door is locked behind them. But Paige doesn’t really give her a chance—first kicking off her shoes and then immediately heading towards the kitchen. Azzi trails behind her as she opens the fridge.

“Hungry?” Azzi asks, a little confused considering they just had a fairly large meal at dinner. But Paige shakes her head, reaching into the side drawer of the fridge and pulling out a seltzer.

She waves it at Azzi with a smile, though it’s a little unusual—almost wavering? Not the familiar one Azzi’s used to. “Wanted a little drink.”

“Okay,” Azzi says slowly, leaning against the counter, watching as Paige cracks the can open. She shouldn’t be surprised—she herself is tipsy and it’s only fair that Paige would want to catch up after she had to drive. But Azzi has been a little blinded by the filthy thoughts that have been playing through her head all night, and was under the impression they’d fuck against the front door the minute they got home.

She’s already waited two weeks, she reminds herself. Paige only needs a drink or two—they don’t want to be drunk, not tonight—so what’s a couple more minutes?

“It’s kinda hot in here,” Paige says abruptly, and when Azzi looks at her, her cheeks flush. “Isn’t it?”

Azzi’s a little warm, but it’s mostly a mix of the alcohol and pure horniness, so she shakes her head. “Feels okay to me.”

“Oh,” Paige says, and then takes a long swig of her seltzer. She offers up that strange, wavering smile again.

Azzi studies her. This is her best friend, the girl she knows better than she knows herself. Paige is practically an extension of her at this point, it’s that easy for them to read each other. But right now, Paige is acting strange in a way Azzi can’t quite place. She’s been flirting like normal all night, but now that they’re alone she’s putting space between them. And that’s not to mention the blushing, the weird smiling, and the need for a drink.

As Paige takes an extra-long gulp of seltzer, it finally clicks where Azzi has seen this behavior from her: Back in high school, not long into their relationship, the first time they had sex.

She’s nervous.

But, no, that can’t be it, can it? They’ve slept together countless times in the four years since then. Paige knows Azzi’s body like the back of her hand. There’s no reason to be nervous.

Sure that she’s got it all wrong, Azzi crosses over to Paige, watching the way Paige’s gaze falters as she sidles up to her. “Hey,” she says, wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck, “you good?”

Paige blinks, then swallows thickly. “Me? Yeah, I’m all good.” She takes a sip from her drink. “Why you asking?”

Azzi hums, bringing a hand down to guide Paige’s free one to her waist—something she usually never has to do, as Paige tends to be pretty handsy. “You’re acting…weird, all of a sudden.”

Paige gives her a long, hard look, and Azzi thinks she’s about to deny it again but then Paige is sighing and setting her drink on the counter behind her, wrapping both arms around Azzi’s waist. “I guess I feel a little…nervous, for some reason?” she shakes her head, locks her hands behind Azzi’s back as if to steady them. “I’on know, bro. It’s stupid.”

Azzi shakes her head, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of Paige’s neck. “It’s not stupid.”

“Kinda is,” Paige says, chuckling at herself but it’s a shaky, breathy sound.

“Hey,” Azzi says gently, bringing a hand up to brush a stray strand of hair from Paige’s face, “if you’re not up to it, we don’t have to.” (Even though she spent the entire night suffering through a thong up her ass. The things we do for love.)

But Paige firmly shakes her head, gripping Azzi’s waist more tightly just to show how much she means it. “No, I don’t—you have no idea how much—“

“Yes, I do,” Azzi says incredulously. “I really fucking do.”

Paige’s breath hitches, and her gaze flicks down to Azzi’s lips. Azzi does the same, allured by the shiny gloss there, knowing it’s vanilla flavored from their previous chaste kisses tonight. She wants to taste more of it. Wonders if Paige’s lotion is vanilla, too.

“P,” she murmurs. Paige’s eyes don’t waver away when she hums, “Yeah?”

“Don’t be nervous,” she says quietly, bringing a hand down to cup her cheek, which gets Paige to look at her. “You know me,” she almost whispers.

Slowly, Paige nods, and when she leans down to connect their lips, Azzi nearly groans at the slight contact. It’s chaste to the point of innocent but it’s something, and they’re alone, and god does Paige look so good in this outfit. Paige readjusts, shifting so their legs are slotted together as she deepens the kiss just slightly, and Azzi reminisces on how she’s been waiting for this all night. Since that fateful night at Ted’s, really.

With Paige’s leg between her thighs, Azzi takes the opportunity to bare down, just slightly, only enough to increase the tension between her legs more than relieve it. But Paige groans into her mouth at the feeling and it lights her senses on fire.

They found a good dynamic years ago, and it’s one in which Paige often leads, allowing Azzi to follow without giving her the responsibility of being the first to move, to make decisions—something she’s always been more hesitant with. The past six months they’ve experimented some, stepping out of the comfort zone they had in high school and trying new things. But they still found that, for the most part, Paige prefers to lead, and Azzi prefers to be led—it just works.

But, even now, as Azzi dips her tongue into Paige’s mouth and brushes it against her’s, Paige still seems a little withheld. It’s obvious that she’s overthinking this, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why—this is big for them. They’ve talked about their feelings and gone on their first date and this feels a little like the last step in a routine that will throw them back into that all-consuming, intense relationship they had in high school. Which is exciting, and it feels natural, like it’s only the right thing to do—but it’s a little scary, too. And, knowing she’s being expected to lead, Paige is worried about getting it wrong. Messing up, somehow.

So when Azzi pushes against the fabric of Paige’s blazer, letting it slip off her shoulders, it’s not really a conscious thought that she’s taking over this time. It’s just—something she needs to do. And, if the absolute fire in her belly says anything, it’s something she wants to do, too.

Opening her mouth a little wider, Azzi sucks Paige’s tongue gently between her lips, drawing it out slightly, and when she pulls off it she opens her eyes to find Paige with her mouth wide open, tongue out, barely five minutes into kissing and already looking so desperate for her.

The sight makes Azzi groan a little, her eyes trailing from Paige’s lips, to the curve of her jaw, to her slender neck, and without thinking about it she slides her hands around Paige’s throat, squeezing experimentally. It elicits the right reaction, Paige’s eyes widening, hands sliding down to Azzi’s ass.

Pulling her close again, Azzi ducks down, moving a hand to the side to kiss sloppily at the skin revealed there. Paige sighs, always having liked being kissed on the neck, and Azzi mutters, “Marks?”

There’s a slight pause, Azzi’s lips hovering just shy of kissing the skin of Paige’s neck, and as soon as Paige hums out a noise of affirmation, she’s basically attacking her, tongue soothing over skin as she sucks hungrily. Her hips grind instinctively down on Paige’s knee as her hands slide lower, down her chest to squeeze her tits through her thin tank. Paige gasps, using her leverage on Azzi’s ass to pull her down harder on her leg. At this point, she’s sure she’s soaking through her fancy lingerie just listening to the little noises Paige is making, and suddenly, Azzi feels hungry. The kind of hungry that tends to be insatiable.

As soon as the thought comes to her, her hands fly to the button of Paige’s jeans, staring down to watch her hands work it open. Paige watches, too, then brings a hand up to Azzi’s cheek. Azzi halts her movements, looking up at her, searching her face for any sign to stop and finding a little hesitancy there. “Hey,” she says, “you good?”

Paige nods, then glances furtively down at Azzi’s hands. “I don’t think I’m ready for—your fingers.”

Soothing her hands across Paige’s hips, Azzi nods, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek. “I know, baby,” she says—Paige has always needed a good amount of buildup before any actual intrusion. “Wasn’t gonna use my fingers.”

Paige blinks, thoughts obviously a little sluggish as it takes a moment for the words to register, but once she does, she nods eagerly. “Shit. Okay.”

With one last peck on the lips, Azzi’s fingers get back to work, and as she slides the jeans down her legs she goes down with them, dropping slowly to her knees. She helps Paige step out of the pants and then tosses them to the side, looping her arms around her thighs and urging her to widen her stance. She presses a few comforting kisses to Paige’s pelvic bone and across her hips, breathing in the familiar scent of her as her kisses stray lower. As she licks up the inside of a thigh, her eyes open, glancing at the girl’s boxers and the wet patch growing on them. Feeling quite proud of herself, she smirks, biting at her thigh and relishing in the way Paige hisses.

“Stop messin�� with me,” Paige breathes, bringing a hand to Azzi’s head and trying to move her closer to her cunt.

“Uh-uh,” Azzi says, using a hand of her own to move Paige’s firmly away. When she looks up at her, Paige looks wrecked, which does amazing things to Azzi’s ego considering she hasn’t even touched her yet. Loving the expression on Paige’s face—lips slightly parted, eyes fluttering, the picture of submission—she decides to try and coax more out of her. “No touching,” she adds, something Paige likes to do whenever she’s being particularly needy. When Paige starts to protest, she moves her hand to her clothed clit and rubs harshly, cutting her off. “You heard me, baby.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow, either from pleasure or annoyance or, more likely, both. “Azzi, please—“

“Shh,” Azzi soothes, removing her thumb and licking a stripe up her boxers—the faintest taste of her already addictive. “Be patient.”

She expects more resistance—the few times they’ve switched roles like this, it takes at least an orgasm for Paige to take her commands. But today must be different—is different—and Paige dutifully shuts up, using her hands to brace herself against the counter as she tilts her head down to watch.

Pleased, Azzi removes her boxers, salivating at the pretty pink peeking out from between her legs, and it’s all she can do when she uses her thumbs to spread her open, groaning when she gets a good look at the familiar, dripping folds. “So pretty,” she can’t help but mumble, leaning forward to press a kiss against her, licking her lips to taste the arousal left there. Paige’s hips buck, and Azzi gives her a sharp slap to the thigh. Paige nearly whines, which is kinda new—they’ll have to experiment with it later. “What’d I say, hm?” she asks, unable to keep herself from pressing her tongue between her cunt lips and licking upward, eyes nearly rolling into the back of her head at the taste. “Be patient.”

“Fuck,” Paige gasps above her.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint in Azzi’s body to not just dive in and devour her like a woman starved. It’s been far too long since she went down on Paige, even before their two weeks of celibacy, and she wants nothing more than to push her tongue inside and draw out as much slick as she can. But she also knows all too well that Paige likes to be ate slow. So, slow it is, as she licks up around her folds, tongue dragging delicately over her clit.

Her eyes fall shut, focusing on how wet Paige is against her tongue, dipping just slightly into her hole where the taste is the strongest and reveling at how good it is.

When Paige makes a high-pitched noise in the back of her throat, Azzi looks up at her, watching her reaction as she gently sucks her clit into her mouth. Paige is leaning back against the counter, cunt pressed into Azzi’s face desperately, and it’s obvious she’s trying to keep still. But when Azzi’s tongue flicks against her clit as she sucks, Paige can’t help but gasp, hips bucking just slightly.

With painted nails, Azzi squeezes her thigh just enough to get her attention. When Paige looks down at her, she pulls off her clit with a wet noise and says, “Hold your shirt up, babe.”

It’s amazing how quickly Paige obeys, rucking her tank up to reveal her bare chest, nipples pink and hard. Azzi doesn’t even try to stop herself from reaching up to play with one of them as she dives back into her pussy.

Her clit is already puffy, sensitive to her every touch based off the way Paige moans when she flicks her tongue against it. She licks little shapes, taking note of which ones draw the most sound out of the older girl. It’s mostly for her own benefit when she traces the letters of her own name on her pussy, but Paige whines high-pitched and needy like she knows.

Azzi pulls away just enough to see that her clit is an angrier pink now, twitching almost imperceptibly, and she gives it a break, moving lower to suck around her hole, drinking the copious juices she’s teased out. When she presses her tongue inside, she finds much less resistance than last time, and her fingers itch to be inside her.

This time, when she pulls away, Paige whines again—the sound a mix of frustration and desperation—and Azzi soothes a hand up the inside of her thigh. Paige’s eyes are hooded now as they lock with Azzi’s, and Azzi smiles up at her. “Hey,” she mutters.

“Uh-huh,” Paige breathes, nearly panting at this point.

“Think you’re ready?” Azzi asks. Paige gives her a quizzical look and she holds up her right hand in explanation. “Wanna finger you.”

As if on their own accord, Paige’s hips jerk forward. When she says, “Yes,” it’s nothing more than a breathy little sigh, but it’s enough.

Nodding, her eyes go back to Paige’s cunt, gaze immediately going to her hole, clenching around nothing. She brings two fingers up and dips inside, then drags them through her pretty folds, making sure they’re plenty wet. And then, without another warning, she plunges into her pussy, moaning as she’s immediately swallowed by wet heat.

Paige’s reaction is visceral, hips pressing down to meet her halfway, hands falling to her head, previous no-touching rules forgotten. Azzi decides to let it go, though, as she watches Paige’s features contort beautifully, pleasure etched into every sound she makes.

Azzi pulls out, presses deeper. Does it again, and then stays inside long enough to push up against her walls.

It’s then that Paige starts talking.

“Oh, fuck, Azzi,” she breathes, still generally pretty quiet, something Azzi plans to have changed once she’s done with her. “You feel so—good, Az, fingers feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Azzi coos. She loves it when Paige gets to the babbling stage of fucking, and is quick to egg her on. “You like that, huh?”

“Mm-hmm, missed it—needed it—I don’t—“ she chokes on her sentence when Azzi plunges particularly deep. “Oh, baby, right there. So fucking good at that.”

“I know,” she murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to Paige’s clit. “You missed me, right? Missed this?”

“Of course I—“ she gasps, arches forward, “did.”

Suddenly, Azzi speeds up, filthy squelching sounds filling the room as her fingers move relentlessly inside Paige, palm coming to meet her clit again and again. Paige mewls, shifting a little, and Azzi uses her free hand to hoist her leg over her shoulder, allowing for a better angle.

“Oh!” Paige cries out, hands gripping Azzi’s head for leverage. “Oh, oh fuck. Baby, baby—mm, so deep—Azzi, more.”

“More?” Azzi asks, pulling her eyes away from where she’s wrecking Paige’s cunt to double-check. Paige usually can’t take more than two.

“Uh-huh,” Paige nods fervently.

Azzi doesn’t slow down, concern about hurting the other girl cutting through her own haze of pleasure. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Paige says, exasperation filling her voice.

“I just don’t want to hurt y—“

“Azzi, if you don’t give me another finger right now I swear to God—“

That’s all it takes for Azzi to pause her movements, pulling out enough to add another finger, and finding it surprisingly easy when she slides back in again. It’s not long before she builds up to her earlier rhythm, Paige’s hips moving against her hand, and then wet sounds are filling the room again, slick trailing down Azzi’s wrist.

Somewhere between Paige’s high-pitched moans and desperate little whines, she calls Azzi’s name. Azzi presses a kiss to her belly and says, “Yeah?”

“Can you—?” there’s hesitance in her tone that gives Azzi pause, movements slowing once again to look up at her.

“What’s up?” she prompts, gently as possibly through the arousal scraping rough against her vocal chords.

“Just, come here,” Paige finally says, hands moving from Azzi’s head to her shoulders, urging her up.

Azzi softens, mind becoming a little less cloudy at the request. Carefully, she eases Paige’s leg off her shoulder, then works up to her feet, keeping her fingers firmly inside Paige all the while. As soon as she’s up, Paige’s arms go around her shoulders, pulling her in, and Azzi smiles softly at the absolutely fucked-out, but undeniably lovesick, look on the other girl’s face.

Pressing a kiss to Paige’s cheek, she starts moving again, staying close so that Paige’s lips are right by her ear, hearing every sound she makes.

“I love you,” Paige mutters, forehead dropping onto Azzi’s shoulder.

Azzi presses a smile into Paige’s hairline, the gesture so innocent compared to the hand between her legs. “Love you, too, P.”

At that, Paige chokes on a moan, only just managing a feeble, “I’m close.”

Azzi nods, doubling her efforts. “Take your time, baby.”

“Mm-hmm,” Paige hums, but then she’s reiterating, “oh, fuck, Azzi, I’m really fuckin’ close.”

To be honest, Azzi is, too. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s come untouched, deriving pleasure from the simple act of giving it to Paige. But she holds back, forces herself to focus on the girl in her arms, running her free hand up and down Paige’s waist. “Yeah? About to come?”

Paige grasps her tighter, too fucked out to respond, but her following whines are answer enough.

“Give it to me, P,” she urges, knowing words are always the last thing Paige needs to tip her over the edge. “Wanna feel you coming all over my fingers, okay? Need you to show me how good I make you feel.”

Paige nods, and Azzi coos a, “Good, girl,” into her ear, and that’s all it takes for Paige’s hips to stutter, abs tightening as she spasms around Azzi’s fingers, crying out her name like it’s the only word she remembers. And at this point, it might be.

It takes awhile for her to come down, letting Azzi continue to thrust slowly for another minute or so before finally pushing her away. “Too much,” she breathes.

“Okay, baby,” Azzi says, pulling out slowly, bringing her hand up to Paige’s lips once she’s done. Paige doesn’t hesitate to take them into her mouth and suck, and it’s as she runs her tongue between her fingers that Azzi is reminded of just how magical her mouth is. Trying to sound casual, Azzi takes her hand back and says, “Hey, you all done?”

Paige is panting, hands going down to hold Azzi by the waist, looking as if she can barely hold herself up—but still, she shakes her head. “Nah, I can go for more.”

“Good,” Azzi says, stepping out of Paige’s grasp with a sly smile. Paige opens her mouth to protest but then Azzi swiftly pulls her shirt over her head, revealing her lavender lacy bra which leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Whatever Paige was about to say dies in her throat. “I may have planned for this when I was getting ready.”

Her pants are still on—Paige hasn’t even had the pleasure of seeing the garter yet—but already her jaw is practically on the floor. “Oh, shit.”

“Uh-huh.” Reaching out, she takes Paige’s hand in her own, leading her down the familiar path to Paige’s room. “You can thank Caroline, by the way. Was her idea.”

“For real?” Paige asks as they enter the bedroom. She plops down on the edge of the bed, watching as Azzi locks the door behind them. Her eyes rake not-so-subtly over her frame as she watches her. “I’ll send her a card and flowers for this shit.”

Azzi laughs breathily, leaning against the doorframe.

Paige raises her eyebrows and then reaches behind her head, pulling her own shirt off and discarding it on the floor. “Aight, I think I can feel my legs again. Lay down, mama.” She smiles deviously. “I’m bouta get you right.”

—————————————

Paige has never been a good liar—which is clear, considering twenty minutes later she has her head between Azzi’s thighs, making her legs shake as she eats her relentlessly.

She’s already put on the strap, and this is her way of getting Azzi ready—alternating between eating her slow and then absolutely devouring her, pulling away every time she gets close to the edge, overstimulating her without even making her come.

“Paige, please,” she basically cries out for the nth time since they started. “I need you.”

Paige only smirks from between her legs, quite cocky considering she just got fucked into oblivion less than an hour ago. “What was it you said to me earlier? About being patient?”

Azzi rolls her eyes (though it may be more from the way Paige sucks on her folds than how annoying she is). “Mm—shut up, you liked it.”

Paige sure as hell isn’t about to admit that. Of course, though, she had enjoyed it, had reveled in the pleasure she took from giving up control, letting herself be told what to do. But now it’s Azzi’s turn, and she needs to regain control of the situation-hence, the edging. “Do you want me to fuck you?” she asks, muffled in Azzi’s pussy. “Or not?”

Azzi can’t say no to that, obviously, but still sounds a little ashamed when she lets out a meek little, “Yes.”

Paige quirks an eyebrow up at her. “Yeah? You done bossing me around?”

Azzi doesn’t respond to that, lips forming into a cute little pout that’s also reminiscent of the face she makes when she gets bratty. Chuckling, Paige shakes her head, pressing a lingering kiss to her clit. “I’on think so, baby. You had your fun.” Slowly, she crawls her way back up the bed, Azzi scooching up with her. “Now you’re gonna tell me watchu want. And you’re gonna be polite about it.”

The demanding tone in Paige’s voice is usually enough to set Azzi right, but she must’ve gotten too big a head after her little stunt earlier because now she doesn’t say anything, just looks at Paige a little defiantly.

Admittedly, she looks adorable, and Paige wants to kiss that look off her face. But she can’t let Azzi think that this is how it’s gonna be now. “Alright, pretty girl. If that’s how you’re gonna be, I’ma get right back down there and make you come on my tongue. You won’t get no strap tonight.”

At that threat (which is baseless, considering Paige is absolutely going to strap Azzi down one way or another tonight) Azzi’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “Okay, okay, no, I’m sorry, I don’t—I need you inside, Paige. Please?”

Grinning, Paige leans down and kisses her forehead. “That’s what I thought.”

Taking the silicon in her hand, Paige balances on one elbow as she drags it slowly through Azzi’s folds, taking extra care to bump the head against her swollen clit. When Azzi gasps, her eyes flit to her face, checking that she’s okay. “You ready, baby girl?”

Azzi hesitates, looking down at the toy between them. “It’s bigger than the last one.”

It’s true—this is a new strap, one Azzi herself actually suggested, claiming she wanted to try something bigger. They still have their last one, just in case this doesn’t work out, and Paige is about to remind her of that when Azzi shakes her head to herself and says, “It’s okay, I’m good.”

“You sure?” Paige asks suspiciously. “Because if it’s too big…”

“Nope. I’m sure.”

“Babe, we don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna.”

Azzi’s eyes move down to follow the cock, watching as Paige moves it methodically through her soaking folds, and her eyes grow a little wider. “Yeah, okay, I’m definitely sure.”

Amused, Paige watches as the younger girl stares, incredibly hungrily, at the toy. “Okay, princess. You gotta tell me if it hurts, though, okay?”

“I will,” Azzi promises. With that, Paige guides the tip down to her entrance, pushing her hips forward and against the resistance she finds there, studying Azzi’s face carefully.

After a moment, the head slides in, and Azzi gasps, wincing a little. “You good?” Paige asks, taking her hand off the cock to stroke Azzi’s cheek.

“Good,” Azzi confirms, swallowing thickly as her eyes meet Paige’s. “Just—go slow.”

“‘Course,” Paige says, leaning forward to press their foreheads together as she pushes in further. “Sweet girl,” she murmurs, mostly to distract her, “y’look so pretty like this, mama.”

She’s about halfway in at this point and Azzi gasps again, breathing out a word that sounds enough like a stop for Paige to halt. “Too much?”

Azzi’s knees are bent, feet flat against the mattress as Paige lays between them, but now she readjusts, wrapping them around Paige’s back for better leverage. “Okay,” she says once she’s done, giving Paige a little nod. “I’m good, keep going.”

Not loving the bossy tone of her voice, Paige makes a face at her. “Manners, princess.”

Azzi frowns but still lets out a little, “Please,” anyway.

With that, Paige jerks her hips, burying the dildo inside to the hilt. Azzi cries out, surprised and left breathless from the sheer stretch of it. “Shit,” she breathes, “so much for going slow.”

“Mm,” Paige hums, ducking down to kiss into Azzi’s neck. “‘S what you get for being bratty.”

“Yeah, okay,” Azzi sighs—Paige can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or actually conceding—and her head falls to the side, allowing more access to her neck, which Paige already marked up earlier.

“I good to move?” Paige asks.

“I think so,” Azzi replies, breath still caught from the sudden fullness.

Paige rocks her hips back, eyes flitting from Azzi’s face to her pussy, unable to keep from watching as she slides back in, eyes widening as she watches her cunt swallow it whole, basically sucking her in.

When she does it again, a little more smoothly this time, Azzi fists the bedsheets so hard her knuckles turn white. “Mmph—so deep, P.”

“Yeah? Feel good?” she asks lowly, rutting her hips flush into her when Azzi nods, building a steady rhythm. Her eyes land on Azzi’s face, contorted with pleasure, then rove down over her body—her neck, her tits, her stomach—until she lands back on the strap. The sight has her leaning down on her elbows, heart racing as she breathes deep to steady herself.

Picking up the pace just a little, Paige lifts herself up, watching as Azzi’s eyebrows furrow, her fists tight in the sheets. The bed is starting to squeak now, which just turns her on even more if that’s possible, and she nuzzles her nose into the crook of Azzi’s neck, muttering, “Hold on to me, baby, it’s okay.”

Azzi’s arms come up to loop around her neck before she’s even done with the sentence, and Paige smirks, pressing a few kisses into her cheek. “How’s it feel, hm? How deep am I?”

“So fucking deep,” Azzi breathes, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise how close she sounds considering Paige has been working her towards the edge for awhile now.

Paige brings a hand down between their bodies, using it to rub a few tight circles against Azzi’s clit, stopping when she starts whining. And Azzi makes a sound of protest but it’s quickly cut off by a moan when Paige’s hand moves instead to press against her lower abdomen, pushing down hard enough to feel the strap moving inside her.

“Baby, baby, please,” Azzi slurs, crying out in time with Paige’s thrusts, “right there—keep doing that, fuck.”

Who would Paige be to tell her no? There’s that whiny edge to her tone, all desperate and needy, a telltale sign she’s getting close. Pressing down a little harder on her stomach, Paige speeds up significantly, angling her hips up in an attempt to hit that spot deep inside.

Based off the high-pitched moan Azzi let’s put, it works.

“Shit, look at that,” Paige says when she looks between them again. The strap is soaking now, and so are the bedsheets, a mix of Paige and Azzi’s arousal leaking down onto them. Angling her hand down, Paige uses her fingers to spread her lips open, groaning as she gets a better view of Azzi’s cunt swallowing the entire dick. “Taking it so good, mama. Fuck, that pussy crying for my dick, huh?”

“Paige, fuck, yes,” Azzi gasps, clawing almost desperately at Paige’s shoulders.

“Close?” Paige asks, trying to gauge where she’s at based off the way her legs are beginning to shake, noises becoming less breathy, more insistent.

Azzi nods, maybe all she can manage at this point, and Paige rocks forward deep, pleased with the way Azzi’s mouth falls open, tits bouncing with each thrust.

They’re silent for a few moments, nothing but the sound of the bedframe fighting for its life and Azzi’s pussy squelching around her cock filling the room. “Hear that?” she asks, using her fingers to rub harshly against her clit, only adding to the filthy sounds in the room. “Best pussy in the world, baby. And it’s mine, huh?”

Azzi only manages a pathetic “uh-huh”, and that’s just not good enough for Paige. “Nah, you gotta tell me, princess. Tell me whose pussy this is and I’ll let you come, okay?”

It takes Azzi a moment, probably trying to gather her scattered thoughts, before she whines out a needy little, “Yours, fuck, my pussy’s all fucking yours.”

Nodding, Paige presses a kiss to Azzi’s parted lips. “That’s right, mama. You wanna come?”

Tears are gathering at the corners of Azzi’s eyes when she nods, and it only spurs Paige on further. “Go ahead, pretty girl. Come all fuckin’ over my dick. Lemme feel it, baby.”

And that’s all Azzi needs, her back arching off the bed, moaning all high-pitched as she comes, pussy clenching around the dildo, nails scratching down Paige’s back, leaving her shuddering. She doesn’t stop, though, rolling her hips deep into Azzi’s through every tremor, only stilling when Azzi shakes her head, tapping against Paige’s hip.

She gives her a moment to catch her breath before saying, “Can I pull out?”

“Uh-huh,” Azzi sighs, throwing an arm across her face as Paige slowly eases out of her. She manages to get the strap off and tosses it onto the floor, a problem for future them to deal with, before laying next to Azzi, pulling her into her chest. She chuckles at Azzi’s blissed-out expression, and Azzi’s eyes open at the sound, peering at her a little sleepily.

“You laughing?” she asks, no real accusation in her tone.

“At you? Never,” Paige jokes. Azzi slaps her chest, collapsing back onto it, sighing as she wraps a leg around Paige’s waist. She’s not the touchiest person in general, and Paige finds it endearing how snuggly she gets after sex.

Her hands begin to run up and down Azzi’s bare back, and when she hears Azzi sigh, she’s quick to speak, trying to catch the younger girl before she inevitably falls asleep. “Hey,” she says, “you okay?”

“Mm,” Azzi hums.

“Was it good?” Paige asks, even though she already knows the answer.

“Very,” Azzi replies, cuddling closer into Paige’s neck. “Missed you.”

“Two weeks is too long,” Paige agrees. Azzi chuckles softly, and Paige angles her head to look at her, only to find that her eyes are closed and her lips are slightly parted.

“Why are you tryna sleep,” Paige very nearly whines.

Azzi lifts her head lazily, resting her chin on Paige’s chest to raise an eyebrow at her. “Because you just fucked the shit outta me. I’m tired.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Paige sighs dreamily.

Rolling her eyes, Azzi lays her head back down, settling back into her. “Lemme sleep, okay? I need some energy for the morning sex tomorrow.”

“F’real?” Paige can’t keep the excitement out of her tone at this.

Azzi shrugs coyly, yawns. “If you’re good.”

Internally, Paige vows to be the absolute best. Even if it means no yapping.

Her silence only lasts a few moments but, surprisingly, it’s Azzi who speaks. “And, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“You’d better ask me to be your girlfriend tomorrow.”

(Paige does, in fact, ask Azzi to be her girlfriend ‘again’, as she puts it. Azzi, of course, says yes.)

(Oh, also, Caroline does receive a thank you letter and a bouquet of flowers in the mail a few days later. Confused, she opens the letter, to find it reads, “Thx for helping azzi pick that fit for our date. you’re a g mama carol. p.s. the sex was ridiculously good.” Caroline sends a photo of it to Azzi, wondering why she needed to know about the sex. Azzi replies with a shrugging emoji and a, “She’s not lying though”.)

[14dayswithyou]

Some long-term followers may have noticed this subtle shift already (especially those who are in the 14DWY Discord server or have read this post), but I figured I'd make it official.

I'm no longer associating myself with the yandere VN community.

The TLDR is that the energy here really fuckin SUCKS!! And I don't want to be part of something so hostile and needlessly competitive.

The constant infighting and epicaricacy between communities is deeply upsetting, and it's very disheartening to see aspiring developers cancel their projects because of the unwarranted backlash and harassment they face.

Some entitled folks on here reeeeally need to understand that constantly harassing others for updates, encouraging developers to belittle others to make themselves/their project look better, complaining about a project not meeting the expectations you specifically put in place, attacking other communities because of the parasocial relationship you share with another developer, getting mad that you chose to ignore important PSAs or warnings and faced the repercussions, or even sending in hate messages on anon because you're bored are not things you should be doing — let alone be proud of.

I try to avoid bringing up these topics as it's not the vibe I want to have on this blog (nor do I want to negatively contribute to the Streisand Effect and blow things out of proportion), but I'm genuinely getting tired of being on the receiving end of all this harassment and negativity, seeing it happen to others, and watching other indie developers encourage such vile behaviour. I'm done.

For those wondering what this means for "14 Days With You": for the most part, everything will still continue like usual. I've said this from the very beginning, but 14DWY is just a passion project I pursue whenever I feel like it. It's something I do for fun as a hobby — not because I want to publish a well-known game or turn it into a career. I've been on Tumblr for over thirteen years now, and it's taught me how to grow thick skin, so everything that I'm yapping and yammering about won't stop me from working on 14DWY.

However, this does mean that I won't be as interactive with other developers or their communities anymore; many ill-natured people have ruined this for me.

Because of them, I'm no longer able to voice my opinion on other games without some opinionated rat whispering in my ear about how the developer is "problematic" or that I could get cancelled for simply following them on Twitter. I can't interact with certain games without its parasocial community becoming hostile or gatekeepy towards anyone they don't like. I've seen communities belittle and devalue promising demos because in their eyes, nothing can compare to their favourite game (or their favourite developer). I have been harassed, bullied, and doxxed by other communities and have seen the same thing happen to others as well. I've heard about the developers who weaponise their community's loyalty to attack and drive out their competition. And I've witnessed more than enough developers expressing how badly they want to take a hiatus due to how much unwarranted negativity they receive, but don't want to disappoint their community by doing so.

By saying all of this, you can understand why I dislike being here so much, as well as why I no longer find any enjoyment in interacting with the yandere VN community.

Many people here — fans and developers alike — are so needlessly pushy about their standards and personal opinions being the norm, and if anyone else goes against them, they'll purposefully try to ostracise and bully them out of the community. This place isn't as laid-back or inclusive as it used to be, and I don't want to be associated with a community that acts so hostile and aggressive towards anyone who shares a differing opinion — nor do I want to be part of a space that caters towards developers who'll tear down others in order to have a moment of relevancy.

We're all doing our own thing and making our own games; it shouldn't be a competition. But if you see it as such, then I urge you to take a moment to stop and rethink your actions — or, at the very least, understand how it's affecting you and others around you.

So until there's a reasonable change and people can go back to being less... demanding, hypercritical, and gatekeepy about who interacts with what, I'll be stepping away and continuing to stay in my own bubble, as I have for the past two years now. I've already unfollowed everyone associated with the yandere community many months ago, but I think I'll just unfollow everyone entirely now for my own peace of mind. I will also no longer be interacting with any yandere VN communities (aside from close friends), nor will I be as public with my interests from this moment on. Everything on this blog will be strictly related to 14DWY like usual, and I will continue to block and report any spiteful "anons"/burner accounts sent my way and delete their messages.

Again, this isn't really much of an announcement — it's more so just paragraphs of me bitchin and moanin 🫶 — but I wanted to get this all out there instead of leaving things unsaid and having people come to their own conclusions as to why I've suddenly become less active, less optimistic, and why I've stopped engaging with a majority of the yandere community in the last two years.

So, yeah... ^^; If there's anything I want y'all to take away from this entire post, it's to be kind, open, and understanding towards everyone — developers and communities alike — and to spread support rather than negativity. It's what I want my own community to be known for, so please be mindful of how you treat others online.

And if you find yourself being surrounded by constant toxicity and negativity (be it from friends, mutuals, or even other developers or communities), please don't feel ashamed to step away or cut them off entirely. Put yourself and your mental health first. I also think it'll be good for me to leave all this negative energy behind and continue to kick off 2025 in a better light, so if y'all need to let out any frustrations of your own, feel free to go ham in the replies (obviously, be kind and civil though jghsjg T_T)

[pokemon-ash-aus]

Some pokemon redesigns! Requested by and made by server members :D

A group of us decided to choose 1 pokemon and redesign them each our own way! I finished pretty fast and have more incoming but that’s a later thing

Anyway! Pokemon requested and who it was requested by!

Drampa - @blues-sues

Meowscarada - @mewtwoevolution

Ambipom - @sea-slumber

Boltund - Me

Conkeldurr - @night-chimeras-cry

Phione - @lunaloothemew

Hisuian Decidueye - @blues-sues

Baxcalibur - @moddy-art

Parasect - @askmythicalparty

Simisear -Me (and yes i decided to do the trio cause they are a package deal!

I wanted to keep their base mon as it was and work around it, trying to keep them still in the Pokemon World without changing them fundamentally. It was really fun to do and i’ve already decided to keep some of the designs as a permanent!

[transmcytshowdown]

Rue:

Submitted for: Skyblock Kingdoms

Headcanons: Identity not specified, pronouns not specified

Propaganda: “Her whole character arc is a metaphor for being trans! She realized she wasn't who she was told she was and then chose her own name and made friends who saw her as HER! They're so special and wonderful and transgender!!”

“[The submitter] LITERALLY INCLUDED HER IN A PAPER [they] WROTE BECAUSE SHE IS SO TRANS.”

“Rue is not just textually trans, with she/they pronouns, she is ALSO a trans allegory! That's TWO trans aspects!”

“Rue is LITERALLY a trans allegory! They have a whole arc about realizing people are viewing them as the wrong person, creating a new identity, being hurt by that confusion, being lied to and told they need to act a certain way for people to like them.... THEYRE A CLONE OF A GUY WHO USES ALL PRONOUNS. THEY USE SHE/THEY PRONOUNS! THEY WERE TRAGICALLY KILLED BY THEIR ORIGINAL'S WIFE (possessed) AND DESERVE A WIN!!”

“Rue is not just played by a trans person and a trans allegory, but a canonical trans character, and she deserves all the love in this world. Rue means a lot to [the submitter] as a whole, and her discovery of how she could be her own person without having to be who people expected her to be made [them] want to sob loudly.”

BigBSt4tz2:

Submitted for: Evo SMP, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life

Headcanons: Trans man, he/they

Propaganda: “The vibe. They're so trans man coded. Like he would use a binder in the life series and, like, for example, Pearl would help him with it in Limited life, or Ren would help them cut their hair in Double life if he felt like being less gender ✨ He's just so trans man 😩 VOTE BIGB.”

“HE CAN BE ANY GENDER YOU'D WANT DUE TO CREATIVITY. I'VE SEEN MANY MAKE BIGB TRANSFEM OR NONBINARY!!!! YOU CAN EVEN MAKE HIM XENOGENDER OR USE NEOPRONOUNS FOR FUN.“

“C!Bigb being trans is so important. His character is very ambiguous (to [the submitter]. At least.) due to the hidden secretive nature of himself, he hides the lies, he masks his weirdness sometimes [which] can be a metaphor for a trans person not wanting to come out (also autism)((proof is [they’re] trans and autistic and [they] do this stuff)). You can color pick a makeshift trans flag from his mc skin also.”

“Every (Life) series, he changes up a lot of himself for whatever he's doing. This seems like he can't decide what exactly he is and is trying to rebrand himself as a different type of person every time, which tends to be something [the submitter has] noticed in a few trans people. The lack of clarity of who they are is definitely very genderfluid coded. It could also go for his character throughout the life series being a system, with each new series being someone else. [Their] main evidence for this is Terry (from Last Life). It can also go for being transmasc on some level because of how easy it was for him to be that character!”

“BigB's username literally has t4t in it. He's not cis [the submitter’s] sorry.”

“BigB deserves to go all the way to the end of this poll because the primary life series fandom's somewhat casual disregard of him makes [the submitter] so upset, and all the trans headcanons for him fill [them] with infinite joy <3 It's gotten a lot better over the years, but [they] feel he still deserves so much more recognition for all his good work.”

“No person who makes their base the backrooms deserves to be cis. That gas lighting with the hole could easily also be about gender.

Grian: What's your gender? 

BigB: Oh, like pretty masc.

(Five seconds later)

Scar: So, like, what's your gender, BigB? 

BigB: None. 

Grian: ??????”

Ethoslab:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life

Headcanons: Agender, they/them; Transfem, she/her; Nonbinary, he/they/she; Nonbinary, they/he/it; Identity not specified, ladder/ladderself

Propaganda: “[The submitter] just think[s] she deserves boobies. [They] think they would be good for her. And also it's because [they] understand the way the universe flows and the nature of all things.”

“[Quote from Etho:]‘I’m ice man also, also the ice Queen […] yep, yep both in one.’ Etho has compared himself to a pretty girl before. ‘That’s me on the inside, beautiful, but on the outside it’s just this.’ (He’s talking about Falsesymmetry’s hermit head, a female head). Bigender, genderfluid, or genderqueer Etho trust trust trust.”

“T4T cletho. They’re both nonbinary and divorced (in an active relationship) and take turns on who's the ex wife and who's the ex husband.”

“When [the submitter] first joined hermitblr, [they were] genuinely confused about Etho’s gender for a bit because of the sheer amount of people on here that she/her him. [They] love it. Live your dreams.”

“Etho (ftm) but can be feminine. [The submitter] think[s] his vest is equal to the famous oversized trans hoodie (but with style).”

Evil Xisuma:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft

Headcanons: Transmasc Demi-boy, he/they

Propaganda: Canonically uses he/they

“Their voice is deepened by a voice changer, even though they wear the same helmet as Xisuma, which could hint at them purposefully adding a voice changer in order to have a deeper voice.”

“Evil Xisuma bites you if you misgender them (They also bite you if you properly gender them) (They bite).”

[renthony]

#this for real. 2 things to add.#1: as someone who is autistic about the animation pipeline (and now gets to work in it!) this is a really stupid and disrespectful way to#view the production houses/teams that make 'kids shows'.#like people still labor on this and for the most part theyre making conscious choices and telling the best story they can#within the confines of the network and medium and budget!#like fuck dude! art you dont like is still art. a labor of love you dont love was still a labor. theres skill and time in this#2: i dont watch this shit cause im childish and juvenile. i love media analysis. i know what more complex media is#i watch 'kids shows' because like. on god? its the only form of an art i love that wont reliably trigger me#like even mixed in with all the autism that makes live action difficult for me to decipher and animation so so so intriguing to me....#the list of “adult media” i can watch without a doesthedogdie visit is insanely small.#but theyre not gonna randomly put a suicide joke into Phineas and Ferb now are they#ALSO ALSO: straight up ive seen anim/kids media that really IS that illuminating if you pull your head out of your ass#sry i dont like ops slight implication that the 'kids show watchers' are all just kind of like. disabled/stupid/inexperienced. anyway

This was an off-the-cuff post made in frustration after seeing a take that irritated me, so I apologize if it wasn't clear, but my point is not "people who like kids' shows are disabled/stupid/inexperienced," my point is that if you're trying to encourage people to expand their media horizons, making fun of the things they like is counterproductive.

I think it's important to encourage people to explore new media that challenges them and explores new topics they've never thought about before. My point is that derisively telling people to "watch something for adults" is counterproductive to that goal, in addition to being disrespectful to the art. Children's media is incredibly important and worth analysis in its own right, and I have profound love for the people who create it. I am writing from the perspective of someone who has volunteered in schools and is actively working with someone on lesson plans for a media studies class for kids.

I adore animation. I enjoy a lot of kids' media, which I said in the original post. I am a media analyst. I write essays about media and pop culture and get paid for it. I talk at great length about, and share many articles about, labor rights and the animation industry. I am working toward learning traditional animation techniques. Obviously you wouldn't know this if you don't follow my blog, but I want to be crystal clear that I am not coming from the perspective that "only disabled/stupid/inexperienced people watch cartoons."

I really have no patience for posts talking about "adults who only watch kids' cartoons," because, like...people accuse me of "only watching kids' cartoons," despite all evidence to the contrary. It doesn't matter how much I talk about other adult media I like, if I post too many things in a row about Steven Universe or The Dragon Prince or The Owl House, people come out of the goddamn woodwork to accuse me of "only watching kids' shows."

So I really can't take people seriously when they start talking about the supposed "problem" of "adults who only watch kids' shows." Are the "adults who only watch kids' cartoons" in the room with us right now, or are you basing your entire opinion of people solely on their fandom blog? Like, come on.

It makes me think of the couple years I spent volunteering in a school library. The librarian talked a lot about how it's hurtful to enforce "reading at grade-level" on every student with no nuance. Teachers would try to force their students to check out books "at proper grade-level," instead of letting students pick out whatever they wanted (even if it was "too easy"), and it resulted in a lot of students deciding books were boring, too hard, and only good for making them feel stupid. They started to hate reading entirely, because people constantly shut them down and told them they were stupid for not reading the right things. This was especially brutal on disabled students.

I personally apply the same philosophy to adults. You don't know what someone might struggle with, you don't know what someone's history is. You might think a piece of media is "too simple," but that's your experience and your opinion. People learn and grow and experience the world at different paces, and what seems to you like a "simplistic" piece of media may be the most complex, illuminating piece of media someone else has ever had the opportunity to experience. It doesn't make them "stupid" or "childish," and believing that it does is cruel and counterproductive. You cannot wield shame as a fucking cudgel if your goal is education, support, and helping people expand their horizons.

I don't think a culture of shame is helpful. I don't think a culture of "if you like 'childish' things, it means you're too stupid for anything else" is helpful. I don't think constantly making fun of children's media does anything other than demean people--and not just the people who enjoy it, but the people who make it, too.

[jadeshifting]

— SCRIPTING YOUR FAMILY. ( i swear it can work even if they’re not dead )

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— DISCLAIMER. script what you want !! this isn’t judgement or an attempt to convince you of anything. i still have ded family in some realities, don’t worry :^)

alright, so a lot of shifters skip right to scripting their DR families straight into the afterlife. gone, nonexistent, dead and buried. this is for a myriad of reasons, though for me and everyone i know, it has a lot to do with backstory, or the idea that family ties are going to cramp our style or get in the way of our dream life and the plot. but, for anyone who’s interested, let’s flip the script (pun intended) and talk about why creating an original, unique family for your desired reality can actually make your experience richer, more meaningful, and a whole lot more fun !!

WHY KEEP THE FAMILY DRAMA?

first off, let’s address the elephant in the room: family can be a lot. but scripting them out entirely can be like throwing the baby out with the bathwater !! there’s tons of potential to consider there. a family offers plenty of opportunities to add depth, lore, and a whole bunch of emotional layers to your DR. think about it—what’s a life without a little family drama, a bit of cozy love, or even a quirky aunt who always brings the laughs? it doesn’t have to be a big, happy family—it can be whatever you feel like you need, whatever fits

HOW TO BUILD YOUR DR FAMILY

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— SIZE MATTERS ( but not really ) .　　. 　 ˚　. when scripting your DR family, start with size. do you want a big, loud, chaotic family with siblings running around, or something closer to a small, tight-knit crew? maybe you’re an only child who’s the apple of your parents’ eyes, or perhaps you’re in the middle of a bustling household where everyone’s got a role to play. there’s no right or wrong—just what feels right for you, and what you feel like you need in that specific DR

— CHOOSE YOUR ROLES .　　. 　 ˚　. who’s in your family? a loving, supportive mom who’s your biggest cheerleader? a cool dad who’s kind of your best friend? maybe a set of grandparents who tell you the most insane stories about their youth, or a mouthy sibling who keeps you on your toes. think about the roles that would enrich your life in your DR. remember, these people are there to support your life, not unnecessarily complicate it

— CONNECTIONS .　　. 　 ˚　. now, here’s where it gets fun (in my opinion): your relationships. are you super close with your mom, the kind of close where you can endlessly gossip and have deep life talks? is your dad the type to give you space but always manages to have your back when it counts? maybe you have an insane sibling rivalry that spans over a decade. the relationships you script can add so much flavor to your DR—it’s all about creating connections that resonate with you, and support you in all the ways you want to be supported

FITTING INTO THE LORE ( making it make sense )

if your DR has a specific lore or world-building element ( Hogwarts, Marvel, etc. you know ), weave your family into it !! maybe your mom’s a legendary witch, or your dad’s a top Auror. perhaps your family runs a magical bakery, or you’re part of an ancient lineage with a complex magical or academic heritage. the point is, your family should feel at home in your DR, adding to the story rather than feeling like an afterthought that detracts from it

SOME IDEAS FOR YOUR DR FAMILY

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( just to get you started )

— MAGICAL LINEAGE .　　. 　 ˚　. your family has a rich history tied to your DR’s lore—maybe you’re descendants of a powerful wizard, or you’ve got a long-standing feud with another powerful family. drama

— ECCENTRIC GROUP .　　. 　 ˚　. a family full of eccentric or seemingly ridiculous people—a dad who invents magical gadgets, a mom who’s an expert potion maker, siblings who are always concocting some mischievous or downright strange plans

— TIGHT-KNIT TEAM .　　. 　 ˚　. quiet and likely unassuming—just a small, close family who’s been through everything together together. you lot might not be flashy, but their love and support are solid and you know you can always count on them

— CHAOTIC CLAN .　　. 　 ˚　. a massive, bustling family where everyone’s got their own unique role. maybe you’ve got siblings with vastly different personalities, parents that always have something insane to say, or aunts and uncles hailing from faraway places. family gatherings are always an ordeal

DON’T STRESS THE DETAILS

here’s the deal: scripting your DR family is about enhancing your experience, not stressing you out or detracting from all the things you wanna do. whether you want to create a sprawling family tree or just script a few key members, it’s all up to you. and remember—at the end of the day, your DR is personal to you. it’s about what makes you feel connected, supported, and ready to dive into the adventure of a lifetime

so, build that dream family !! whether they’re magical, mundane, or somewhere in between, totally supportive or bringing never-ending drama to spice things up, at the end of the day they’re there to add richness and depth to your DR. and trust me, it’ll make your journey all the more special if you let it !!

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

Enshittification isn’t caused by venture capital

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

Many of us have left the big social media platforms; far more of us wish we could leave them; and even those of us who've escaped from Facebook/Insta and Twitter still spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to get the people we care about off of them, too.

It's lazy and easy to think that our friends who are stuck on legacy platforms run by Zuckerberg and Musk lack the self-discipline to wean themselves off of these services, or lack the perspective to understand why it's so urgent to get away from them, or that their "hacked dopamine loops" have addicted them to the zuckermusk algorithms. But if you actually listen to the people who've stayed behind, you'll learn that the main reason our friends stay on legacy platforms is that they care about the other people there more than they hate Zuck or Musk.

They rely on them because they're in a rare-disease support group; or they all coordinate their kids' little league carpools there; or that's where they stay in touch with family and friends they left behind when they emigrated; or they're customers or the audience for creative labor.

All those people might want to leave, too, but it's really hard to agree on where to go, when to go, and how to re-establish your groups when you get somewhere else. Economists call this the "collective action problem." This problem creates "switching costs" – a lot of stuff you'll have to live without if you switch from legacy platforms to new ones. The collective action problem is hard to solve and the switching costs are very high:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/29/how-to-leave-dying-social-media-platforms/

That's why people stay behind – not because they lack perspective, or self-discipline, or because their dopamine loops have been hacked by evil techbro sorcerers who used Big Data to fashion history's first functional mind-control ray. They are locked in by real, material things.

Big Tech critics who attribute users' moral failings or platforms' technical prowess to the legacy platforms' "stickiness" are their own worst enemies. These critics have correctly identified that legacy platforms are a serious problem, but have totally failed to understand the nature of that problem or how to fix it. Thankfully, more and more critics are coming to understand that lock-in is the root of the problem, and that anti-lock-in measures like interoperability can address it.

But there's another major gap in the mainstream critique of social media. Critics of zuckermuskian media claim those services are so terrible because they're for-profit entities, capitalist enterprises hitched to the logic of extraction and profit above all else. The problem with this claim is that it doesn't explain the changes to these services. After all, the reason so many of us got on Twitter and Facebook and Instagram is because they used to be a lot of fun. They were useful. They were even great at times.

When tech critics fail to ask why good services turn bad, that failure is just as severe as the failure to ask why people stay when the services rot.

Now, the guy who ran Facebook when it was a great way to form communities and make friends and find old friends is the same guy who who has turned Facebook into a hellscape. There's very good reason to believe that Mark Zuckerberg was always a creep, and he took investment capital very early on, long before he started fucking up the service. So what gives? Did Zuck get a brain parasite that turned him evil? Did his investors get more demanding in their clamor for dividends?

If that's what you think, you need to show your working. Again, by all accounts, Zuck was a monster from day one. Zuck's investors – both the VCs who backed him early and the gigantic institutional funds whose portfolios are stuffed with Meta stock today – are not patient sorts with a reputation for going easy on entrepreneurs who leave money on the table. They've demanded every nickel since the start.

What changed? What caused Zuck to enshittify his service? And, even more importantly for those of us who care about the people locked into Facebook's walled gardens: what stopped him from enshittifying his services in the "good old days?"

At its root, enshittification is a theory about constraints. Companies pursue profit at all costs, but while you may be tempted to focus on the "at all costs" part of that formulation, you musn't neglect the "profits" part. Companies don't pursue unprofitable actions at all costs – they only pursue the plans that they judge are likely to yield profits.

When companies face real competitors, then some enshittificatory gambits are unprofitable, because they'll drive your users to competing platforms. That's why Zuckerberg bought Instagram: he had been turning the screws on Facebook users, and when Instagram came along, millions of those users decided that they hated Zuck more than they loved their friends and so they swallowed the switching costs and defected to Instagram. In an ill-advised middle-of-the-night memo to his CFO, Zuck defended spending $1b on Instagram on the grounds that it would recapture those Facebook escapees:

https://www.theverge.com/2020/7/29/21345723/facebook-instagram-documents-emails-mark-zuckerberg-kevin-systrom-hearing

A company that neutralizes, buys or destroys its competitors can treat its users far worse – invade their privacy, cheap out on moderation and anti-spam, etc – without losing their business. That's why Zuck's motto is "it is better to buy than to compete":

https://www.trtworld.com/magazine/zuckerberg-its-better-to-buy-than-compete-is-facebook-a-monopoly-42243

Of course, as a leftist, I know better than to count on markets as a reliable source of corporate discipline. Even more important than market discipline is government discipline, in the form of regulation. If Zuckerberg feared fines for privacy violations, or moderation failures, or illegal anticompetitive mergers, or fraudulent advertising systems that rip off publishers and advertisers, or other forms of fraud (like the "pivot to video"), he would treat his users better. But Facebook's rise to power took place during the second half of the neoliberal era, when the last shreds of regulatory muscle that survived the Reagan revolution were being devoured by GW Bush and Obama (and then Trump).

As cartels and monopolies took over our economy, most government regulators were neutered and captured. Public agencies were stripped of their powers or put in harness to attack small companies, customers, and suppliers who got in the way of monopolists' rent-extraction. That meant that as Facebook grew, Zuckerberg had less and less to fear from government enforcers who might punish him for enshittification where the markets failed to do so.

But it's worse than that, because Zuckerberg and other tech monopolists figured out how to harness "IP" law to get the government to shut down third-party technology that might help users resist enshittification. IP law is why you can't make a privacy-protecting ad-blocker for an app (and why companies are so desperate to get you to use their apps rather than the open web, and why apps are so dismally enshittified). IP law is why you can't make an alternative client that blocks algorithmic recommendations. IP law is why you can't leave Facebook for a new service and run a scraper that imports your waiting Facebook messages into a different inbox. IP law is why you can't scrape Facebook to catalog the paid political disinformation the company allows on the platform:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

IP law's growth has coincided with Facebook's ascendancy – the bigger Facebook got, the more tempting it was to interoperators who might want to plug new code into it to protect Facebook users, and the more powers Facebook had to block even the most modest improvements to its service. That meant that Facebook could enshittify even more, without worrying that it would drive users to take unilateral, permanent action that would deprive it of revenue, like blocking ads. Once ad-blocking is illegal (as it is on apps), there's no reason not to make ads as obnoxious as you want.

Of course, many Facebook employees cared about their users, and for most of the 21st century, those workers were a key asset for Facebook. Tech workers were in short supply until just a couple years ago, when the platforms started round after round of brutal layoffs – 260,000 in 2023, another 150,000+ in 2024. Facebook workers may be furious about Zuckerberg killing content moderation, but he's not worried about them quitting – not with a half-million skilled tech workers out there, hunting for jobs. Fuck 'em. Let 'em quit:

https://www.404media.co/its-total-chaos-internally-at-meta-right-now-employees-protest-zuckerbergs-anti-lgbtq-changes/

This is what changed: the collapse of market, government, and labor constraints, and IP law's criminalization of disenshittifying, interoperable add-ons. This is why Zuck, an eternal creep, is now letting his creep flag fly so proudly today. Not because he's a worse person, but because he understands that he can hurt his users and workers to benefit his shareholders without facing any consequences. Zuckerberg 2025 isn't the most evil Zuck, he's the most unconstrained Zuck.

Same goes for Twitter. I mean, obviously, there's been a change in management at Twitter – the guy who's enshittifying it today isn't the guy who enshittified it prior to last year. Musk is speedrunning the enshittification curve, and yet Twitter isn't collapsing. Why not? Because Musk is insulated from consequences for fucking up – he's got a huge cushion of wealth, he's got advertisers who are desperate to reach his users, he's got users who can't afford to leave the service, he's got IP law that he can use to block interoperators who might make it easier to migrate to a better service. He was always a greedy, sadistic asshole. Now he's an unconstrained greedy, sadistic asshole. Musk 2025 isn't a worse person than Musk 2020. He's just more free to act on his evil impulses than he was in years gone by.

These are the two factors that make services terrible: captive users, and no constraints. If your users can't leave, and if you face no consequences for making them miserable (not solely their departure to a competitor, but also fines, criminal charges, worker revolts, and guerrilla warfare with interoperators), then you have the means, motive and opportunity to turn your service into a giant pile of shit.

That's why we got Jack Welch and his acolytes when we did. There were always evil fuckers just like them hanging around, but they didn't get to run GM until Ronald Reagan took away the constraints that would have punished them for turning GE into a giant pile of shit. Every economy is forever a-crawl with parasites and monsters like these, but they don't get to burrow into the system and colonize it until policymakers create rips they can pass through.

In other words, the profit motive itself is not sufficient to cause enshittification – not even when a for-profit firm has to answer to VCs who would shut down the company or fire its leadership in the face of unsatisfactory returns. For-profit companies chase profit. The enshittifying changes to Facebook and Twitter are cruel, but the cruelty isn't the point: the point is profits. If the fines – or criminal charges – Facebook faced for invading our privacy exceeded the ad-targeting revenue it makes by doing so, it would stop spying on us. Facebook wouldn't like it. Zuck would hate it. But he'd do it, because he spies on us to make money, not because he's a voyeur.

To stop enshittification, it is not necessary to eliminate the profit motive – it is only necessary to make enshittification unprofitable.

This is not to defend capitalism. I'm not saying there's a "real capitalism" that's good, and a "crony capitalism" or "monopoly capitalism" that's bad. All flavors of capitalism harm working people and seek to shift wealth and power from the public and democratic institutions to private interests. But that doesn't change the fact that there are, indeed, different flavors of capitalism, and they have different winners and losers. Capitalists who want to sell apps on the App Store or reach customers through Facebook are technofeudalism's losers, while Apple, Facebook, Google, and other Big Tech companies are technofeudalism's great winners.

Smart leftism pays attention to these differences, because they represent the potential fault lines in capitalism's coalition. These people all call themselves capitalists, they all give money and support to political movements that seek to crush worker power and human rights – but when the platforms win, the platforms' business customers lose. They are irreconcilably on different sides of a capitalism-v-capitalism fight that is every bit as important to them as the capitalism-v-socialism fight.

I'm saying that it's good praxis to understand these divisions in capitalism, because then we can exploit those differences to make real, material gains for human thriving and worker rights. Lumping all for-profit businesses together as identical and irredeemable is bad tactics.

Legacy social media is at a turning point. Two new systems built on open standards have emerged as a credible threat to the zuckermuskian model: Mastodon (built on Activitypub) and Bluesky (built on Atproto). The former is far more mature, with a huge network of federated servers run by all different kinds of institutions, from hobbyists to corporations, and it's overseen by a nonprofit. The latter has far more users, and is a VC-backed corporate entity, and while it is hypothetically federatable, there are no Bluesky services apart from the main one that you can leave for if Bluesky starts to enshittify.

That means that Bluesky has a ton of captive users, and has the lack of constraint that characterizes the enshittified legacy platforms it has tempted tens of millions of users away from. This is not a good place to be in, because it means that if the current management choose to enshittify Bluesky, they can, and it will be profitable. It also means that the company's VCs understand that they could replace the current management and replace them with willing enshittifiers and make more money.

This is why Bluesky is in a dangerous place: not because it is backed by VCs, not because it is a for-profit entity, but because it has captive users and no constraints. It's a great party in a sealed building with no fire exits:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/14/fire-exits/#graceful-failure-modes

Last week, I endorsed a project called Free Our Feeds, whose goals include hacking some fire exits into Bluesky by force majeure – that is, independently standing up an alternative Bluesky server that people can retreat to if Bluesky management changes, or has a change of heart:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/14/contesting-popularity/#everybody-samba

For some Mastodon users, Free Our Feeds is dead on arrival – why bother trying to make a for-profit project safer for its users when Mastodon is a perfectly good nonprofit alternative? Why waste millions developing a standalone Bluesky server rather than spending that money improving things in the Fediverse.

I believe strongly in improving the Fediverse, and I believe in adding the long-overdue federation to Bluesky. That's because my goal isn't the success of the Fediverse – it's the defeat of enshtitification. My answer to "why spend money fixing Bluesky?" is "why leave 20 million people at risk of enshittification when we could not only make them safe, but also create the toolchain to allow many, many organizations to operate a whole federation of Bluesky servers?" If you care about a better internet – and not just the Fediverse – then you should share this goal, too.

Many of the Fediverse's servers are operated by for-profit entities, after all. One of the Fediverse's largest servers (Threads) is owned by Meta. Threads users who feel the bite of Zuckerberg's decision to encourage homophobic, xenophobic and transphobic hate speech will find it easy to escape from Threads: they can set up on any Fediverse server that is federated with Threads and they'll be able to maintain their connections with everyone who stays behind.

The existence of for-profit servers in the Fediverse does not ruin the Fediverse (though I wouldn't personally use one of them). The fact that multiple neo-Nazi groups run their own Mastodon servers does not ruin the Fediverse (though I certainly won't use their servers). Not even the fact that Donald Trump's Truth Social is a Mastodon server does anything to ruin the Fediverse (not using that one, either).

This is the strength of federated, federatable social media – it disciplines enshittifiers by lowering switching costs, and if enshittifiers persist, it makes it easy for users to escape unshitted, because they don't have to solve the collective action problem. Any user can go to any server at any time and stay in touch with everyone else.

Mastodon was born free: free code, with free federation as a priority. Bluesky was not: it was born within a for-profit public benefit corporation whose charter offers some defenses against enshittification, but lacks the most decisive one: the federation that would let users escape should escape become necessary.

The fact that Mastodon was born free is quite unusual in the annals of the fight for a free internet. Most of the internet was born proprietary and had freedom foisted upon it. Unix was born within Bell Labs, property of the convicted monopolist AT&T. The GNU/Linux project set it free.

SMB was born proprietary within corporate walls of Microsoft, another corporate monopolist. SAMBA set it free.

The Office file formats were also born proprietary within Microsoft's walled garden: they were set free by hacker-activists who fought through a thick bureaucratic morass and Microsoft fuckery (including literally refusing to allow chairs to be set for advocates for Open Document Format) to give us formats that underlie everything from LibreOffice to Google Docs, Office365 to your web browser.

There is nothing unusual, in other words, about hacking freedom into something that is proprietary or just insufficiently free. That's totally normal. It's how we got almost everything great about computers.

Mastodon's progenitors should be praised for ensuring their creation was born free – but the fact that Bluesky isn't free enough is no reason to turn our back on it. Our response to anything that locks in the people we care about must be to shatter those locks, not abandon the people bound by the locks because they didn't heed to our warnings.

Audre Lorde is far smarter than me, but when she wrote that "the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house," she was wrong. There is no toolset better suited to conduct an orderly dismantling of a structure than the tools that built it. You can be sure it'll have all the right screwdriver bits, wrenches, hexkeys and sockets.

Bluesky is fine. It has features I significantly prefer to Mastodon's equivalent. Composable moderation is amazing, both a technical triumph and a triumph of human-centered design:

https://bsky.social/about/blog/4-13-2023-moderation

I hope Mastodon adopts those features. If someone starts a project to copy all of Bluesky's best features over to Mastodon, I'll put my name to the crowdfunding campaign in a second.

But Mastodon has one feature that Bluesky sorely lacks – the federation that imposes antienshittificatory discipline on companies and offers an enshittification fire-exit for users if the discipline fails. It's long past time that someone copied that feature over to Bluesky.

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/20/capitalist-unrealism/#praxis

[luvismenu]

Only When It's Us — JJK

you can’t wait to show your boyfriend the lingerie you bought — kinda nsfw

— drabble based on this ask !!

wc: 2.4k+

note: i’m so sorry it took me this long 🥲 but yay, it’s finally here!! wanted to keep this a little shorter, like 1.5k-ish words but i js couldn't help myself write a little more hehe— enjoy the silly, sexy moments <3 check the ask for warnings if you need them lolol love all of my owiu readers out there !! 🤍

ever since you started dating jungkook, life has felt... lighter.

it’s not that the stress is gone, there are still challenges ahead of you, but one thing that keeps you grounded is knowing your boyfriend will always be there for you.

like today, when he insisted on taking you out because you’ve been working so hard lately.

you’re out with jungkook and a group of your friends; yoongi, jimin, taehyung and his girlfriend hina, and jin with his wife da-eun. these are the people you’ve grown close to, thanks to jungkook encouraging you to meet them. you didn’t have many friends before, but now you do who you're thankful for.

and you’re especially grateful for hina and da-eun. hina, the same age as you, is a bundle of energy, while da-eun, a few years older, is a calming presence. even tho they're different than you, they still, just.. get you.

the day started at a museum; jin and yoongi’s idea. it was calm and peaceful, exactly what you needed.

jungkook stayed by your side the whole time, his arm draped around your shoulders or your waist, leaning in to whisper sweet things to you. and okay, maybe he sneaked you into an empty storage room for a heated makeout session, but that’s beside the point.

it was still peaceful.

next came the arcade, a suggestion from jimin and taehyung. while the guys, especially jungkook, went wild with the games, you and the others enjoyed watching. yoongi’s consistent losing streak provided endless laughs, and the chaos turned into pure fun.

when jungkook noticed that the guys had been dominating the day’s plans, he suggested letting the women choose the next stop. naturally, hina, da-eun, and you all agreed on shopping, much to the guys’ amused groans.

now, you’re at the mall, wandering through the shops. the energy of the place, with its bright displays and bustling crowd, somehow lifts your spirits.

“i literally don’t want anything,” jimin says, stifling a yawn.

“i might grab something,” taehyung adds, his eyes darting to the plushie section. you can’t help but think it’s for hina. she told you loves collecting them, even showed you her collection.

you, on the other hand, have just one plushie from childhood, but you get the appeal. plushies are adorable.

“i really wanna buy some cute clothes!” hina exclaims, her excitement contagious as taehyung pulls her close with a chuckle.

“me too,” da-eun says with a smile, glancing at jin, who nods in agreement.

“what about you, babe?” jungkook asks, looking down at you with that soft gaze of his.

“me three!” you grin, and the group laughs.

“well, let’s head to the women’s section i gues—” jimin begins, but hina cuts him off sharply.

“men are not allowed.”

the guys blink in confusion.

“huh?” they say in unison.

“why can’t we come? it’s just a clothes section,” taehyung protests, crossing his arms.

“because we’re having girls’ time, right?” hina says, looking to you and da-eun for backup.

“absolutely,” da-eun replies without hesitation.

you nod with a smile.

“but i thought i could help pick something for—” jungkook starts, his hand still on your waist, but da-eun interrupts him.

“girls’ time!” she declares, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards her. jungkook is left standing there, sulking like a kid whose toy has been taken away.

“i’m okay with that,” yoongi says, almost like a deadpan. “plus, i need to sit down. my legs are killing me.”

“same here. you girls enjoy,” jin adds, planting a kiss on da-eun’s forehead.

“all right, grandpas, let’s find you a bench,” jimin says with an eye roll, leading yoongi and jin away. taehyung pauses to kiss hina on the cheek and whispering ‘have fun’ before following them.

jungkook stays rooted in place, looking like he’s waiting for something.

you cup his face in your hands, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “see you later, babe.”

he pouts, his bottom lip jutting out just a bit, and you chuckle before turning to join the girls. behind you, jungkook slowly trails after the guys, shaking his head with a smile.

now it’s just you, hina, and da-eun in the women’s section, sifting through racks of clothes and chatting about everything.

“i am so glad we can take our time now and let the boys wait. i don’t even like museums,” hina huffs, sorting through a pile of clothes alongside you and da-eun.

you and da-eun chuckle, shaking your heads.

“look, this is cute. it matches your aesthetic too!” you say, holding up a light pink mini dress.

“and it looks like it would fit you perfectly,” da-eun adds with a smile.

hina’s eyes light up as she takes the dress. “i’m gonna try this on right now!” she squeals, rushing off which makes you both smile.

you and da-eun continue browsing. she picks out a few outfits while you grab some comfy clothes and a few dresses. as you glance around, your eyes land on the lingerie section nearby.

one particular set catches your attention; a lacy, red, and very explicit set that makes your cheeks warm just thinking about it. it’s the kind of thing you’d love to wear for jungkook.

you blink, trying to shake the thought, but da-eun’s voice from behind startles you. “you should buy it.”

you flinch a little and chuckle nervously. “what? no, i was just looking.”

da-eun smiles knowingly. “do you not like it?”

you look at it again and you sigh, giving in. “i love it,” you admit.

before she can respond, hina comes bounding back with the pink dress in her hands, her face glowing. “you guys were right, it fits perfectly, and i love ittt!”

you and da-eun smile at her.

“i sent a pic to tae, and he’s already drooling.” she chuckles before continuing, “what about you, da-eun? are you gonna get that pretty, sexy dress you were looking at?” hina teases with a laugh.

“obviously!” da-eun says with a grin. then both of them turn their attention to you.

“what about you, ___?” hina asks excitedly. “did you pick anything... spicyy?”

you glance awkwardly at da-eun, who grins mischievously and subtly points hina towards the lingerie display. hina gasps dramatically, her eyes widening.

“that is so fucking hot! oh my god, you should totally get that, ___. please, please, please!” hina exclaims, practically bouncing on her toes.

you laugh, hiding your face in your hands, a little flustered.

“i’m getting that one.”

“oh my gosh, i missed food!” jimin gasps dramatically, stuffing a bite into his mouth.

the eight of you are seated in a cozy restaurant, wrapping up the day with dinner after hours of fun. the table is alive with chatter and laughter, everyone enjoying their meals. the couples sit side by side, exchanging sweet moments, which jimin predictably calls out.

“ugh, get a room, all of you!” he groans, rolling his eyes.

“honestly, yes, get a fucking room. you’re all just rubbing it in that i’m single,” yoongi adds with a dry chuckle, making everyone laugh.

you’re beside jungkook, his hand intertwined with yours under the table. his thumb lazily rubs soft circles on your skin while he chats with yoongi about something. you’re barely paying attention to their conversation because all you can think about is how ridiculously fucking good he looks right now.

he’s not even trying, just sitting there in a simple shirt and jeans, his hair slightly messy, and yet he’s got your mind wandering to... other things.

speaking of other things, you think about the clothes you bought earlier, the lingerie and a few silky nightdresses that were too beautiful to resist. the thought of showing them to him makes your heart race.

gently, you slip your hand out of his hold and place it on his thigh. his conversation falters as he glances at you, his dark eyes searching yours like he’s silently asking, ‘what’s wrong?'

you shake your head, smiling softly. his lips curve into a small, confused smile, but he goes back to talking.

you wait for the right moment, checking to make sure no one’s paying attention, and then let your hand slide a little higher.

that gets his full attention.

his gaze snaps to your hand, now dangerously close to a place you know will drive him insane. his jaw tightens, and you can see the realization in his eyes— he knows exactly what you’re doing.

leaning in, he brings his lips close to your ear, his voice low and deep. “if you keep doing that, i might have to take you home right now.”

you smile teasingly, leaning closer to whisper, “what are you talking about, jeon? i’m doing nothing.” your hand retreats, as if you’re completely innocent, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

you pick up the drink infront of you, sipping on it with a teasing smile.

he shakes his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips, but you can tell he’s trying to distract himself from the thoughts in his head— thoughts about exactly what he wants to do to you later.

. . .

soon, the evening winds down, and everyone begins saying their goodbyes.

“this was fun. we should do this more often,” taehyung says, and everyone nods in agreement.

as you’re saying goodbye to hina and da-eun, you notice the way they giggle at you, their eyes glinting with... mischief. you smile knowingly, already guessing what’s on their minds.

“what? what’s going on?” jin asks, looking at da-eun curiously.

she simply smiles at him and says, “just girlie things.”

jin frowns slightly, still confused, but lets it go with a soft laugh.

“okay then, let's go home.”

the door barely shuts behind you before jungkook has you pressed against it, his lips capturing yours in a kiss so desperate it leaves you breathless. his hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off him as his body presses against yours.

you kiss him back with equal intensity, your hands wrapping around his neck pulling him down, but then you pull away slightly, resting your forehead against his.

“wait,” you whisper, your breathing uneven.

“wait?” his voice is low, and he looks at you like he’s already losing his patience.

you nod, smiling as you try to calm your racing heart. “i want to show you the clothes i bought today.”

he groans, throwing his head bacm dramatically. “right now?”

“you’ll like it, i promise.” you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom, pushing him gently onto the bed

“stay here,” you instruct, pointing at him before disappearing into the closet

he watches you go, running a hand through his hair, still trying to cool down.

a few moments later, you step out wearing a long, dark purple dress that hugs your body in all the right places. the fabric flows down gracefully, and the color makes your skin glow.

jungkook’s eyes widen slightly, his eyes raking over you with awe. “you look... fuck.. wow. so pretty.”

you twirl slightly, letting the fabric swish around you. “you like it?”

“baby, you look so fucking beautiful,” he breathes, sitting up straighter.

smiling, you step back into the closet and reappear moments later in another dress— this time, it’s a bit shorter, hitting just above your knees, with a soft floral design. jungkook grins, biting his lip as he watches you show it off.

“okay, this one’s cute,” he says, his eyes never leaving you.

you keep going, the dresses getting shorter and more... bold. when you step out in a sleek, silky black mini nightdress that barely reaches mid-thigh, jungkook groans, leaning back on his hands like he’s trying to restrain himself.

“you’re doing this on purpose,” he accuses, his voice low and rough, his eyes locked onto you like you’re the only thing that matters.

“what?” you ask innocently, moving a little, the skirt of your dress swishing just enough to tease him.

he watches you, his gaze following your every move, filled with love— and something much darker, much hungrier. “do a little twirl for me, baby,” he says, his voice dropping even lower.

you smirk and twirl, biting your lip when you see the way his jaw tightens.

“are you done yet?” he finally asks, his tone laced with desperation. “because if i don’t touch you soon, i might fucking lose my mind.”

you laugh softly, walking over to him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “one more, please?”

he grabs your waist in an instant, pulling you close until you’re straddling his lap, his warm hands settling on your hips. “fine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck, “but only after you give me a kiss.”

you tilt your head down, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s soft but full of promise. after a few seconds, you pull back, grinning. “you’re gonna love this,” you whisper before slipping off his lap and disappearing into the closet again.

jungkook leans back on the bed, exhaling, trying to control himself. but when you don’t return right away, he shifts impatiently, standing up to pace the room.

when you finally walk out, he’s stops mid-step. he freezes, his eyes widening as they take you in.

you’re wearing the red lingerie set, the delicate lace barely there, with rope-like straps wrapping around your body. small red heart-shaped details covering the parts he really wants to see right now.

he stares at you, his lips parting slightly, his breath catching in his throat.

“oh.. fuck.” he mutters, his voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper.

you walk towards him slowly, swaying your hips just a little. “what do you think babe?”

he doesn’t answer right away, too busy drinking in the sight of you. when he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. “i think i just died and went to heaven.”

you stop in front of him, chuckling softly as your fingers trailing up his chest. “i told you you’d love it.”

“you’re so fucking sexy,” he breathes, his hands coming up to rest on your hips, his grip on you firm as if he’s trying to stop himself from losing control. “c'mere”

you smile, letting him pull you closer.

“all this for me?” he asks, his voice low and raspy as his hands trail down to your ass, gripping the soft flesh in his large hands, pulling you even closer.

“all for you,” you whisper, your lips barely hovering over his, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin.

that’s all it takes for him to snap. his lips crash into yours fiercely.

and this time, there’s no holding back.

a/n: ...wish i can show yall the lingerie pic but idk if it's allowed habahabaohw

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[tethrawke]

Rook was sidelined so hard, I would really love to know what on earth the live service concept was that was the birth of this mess. I have never cared about a character less. The fact that they cut out Varric's recruitment mission so we never actually SEE why Rook is so much more suited to leading than Harding doesn't help. I mean wasn't Harding the scout leader in Inquisition? It's not like she has 0 experience being in charge? But it feels like... Rook has 0 experience being in charge? I never SAW Rook being a leader before Varric handed over the reigns. And yeah. Rook on their own doesn't do anything? The companions collect the leads and tell you what to do next.

Okay so maybe Rook's job is making sure they all work together. Rook is the manager, not the SME. Fine. Except, they don't need Rook. They all get along PERFECTLY FINE WITHOUT ROOK. There's a little bit of friction with Taash/Emmrich but lbr they'd have figured this out alone or with a different companion's help. Lucanis/Davrin solve their issue alone. If Rook disappeared all of a sudden, those people would still work together just fine... And they do in the last act, literally creating a fake dagger all on their own out of NOWHERE?? Rook never had an idea like that lol. And they save Rook completely on their own too. Like they just. Don't need Rook. At all. If Rook disappeared, Harding or Neve would easily take over and people would follow them. Not to mention how Rook wasn't included in anything ever and always felt like an awkward outsider who wasn't actually invited to the party, but came because they ASSUMED they were when everyone else was talking about it, but no one wanted them to come? If you've seen the B99 episode of the gang going on a trip with Holt where they have their private fun party in the basement while the boring "boss" party no one wants to be at is happening upstairs... That's how I felt the whole game.

I will say though, world-ending odds or not, Hawke was just a much better protagonist because Hawke WAS A PROTAGONIST. The people in Hawke's life literally would never have become friends without Hawke. Some of them still hate each other by the end but endure for Hawke. Like they're all literally only in the group for/because of Hawke. And Hawke quite literally changes who they are as people and has a massive effect on their lives. The choices you make as Hawke for your friends and the city MATTER. The Veilguard choices just... Don't. The only choice that truly matters is the Emmrich one. Everything else is just a skin preference. It has no actual effect on the game or how the characters act. It's the illusion of choice and you KNOW it won't matter in the next DA, if there ever is one.

Rook as a character is just... Desperately bad, and I'm very sad about it. I mean the Inquisitor was such a bland pancake of a person as well with no real past or personality, but I ended up caring about them because of their relationship with the companions, who provided the seasoning and toppings to their bland pancake stack. I felt like they actually cared about the MC and they all had interesting, deep relationships with Inky. I just feel like... the Veilguard crew would literally not notice if Rook just said "fuck this shit" and dipped halfway through the game. I mean no one even noticed I didn't know Varric was dead? Be real 💀

What’s really jumping out at me on my second playthrough is that the writers of the first three games understood that your character was the main character. The Veilguard writers clearly thought that the main characters were their characters, the companions.

Every scene is about setting the companions up as cool or competent or sympathetic. Often, this is done at Rook’s expense. The companions get all the witty one-liners; Rook’s attempts at humor not only frequently fall flat, but are frequently called out for falling flat (even when they’re completely automatic and the player has no say in them).

The companions have all the knowledge and skills; Rook just brought them all together and gives them all pep talks so they can focus. I’m trying to edit out all of the comments where Rook is like “Um… what????” from my videos, and let me tell you, it takes WORK. There are A LOT of them. I can count on one hand the number of times when the Inquisitor or Hawke comes across as dumb, but it seems to be a built-in, unavoidable part of Rook’s character. I have not selected a single “purple” option in all of Act 1, and Rook is still coming across as the kid who tries to be the class clown to cover for the fact that he’s always confused. Rook’s role in most scenes is to say “Uhhh… what?” so that the companions look smart.

Rook is always the one offering sympathy and never the one getting it. No one actually comes to comfort you after Varric’s death. No one asks you how you’re feeling about having to lead the team now that Varric is gone. No one tries to reassure you or give you advice for dealing with the trickster god haunting your dreams. We’re told that Neve could keep Solas out of your head, but she never actually offers to do this for you. No one comforts a Shadow Dragon Rook when Minrathous is destroyed or a Grey Warden Rook when Weisshaupt is destroyed. Rook’s problems don’t matter. Only the problems of main characters matter.

Rook is a secondary character in their own story.

[revelboo]

Hello! Just wanted to thank you again for all your stories. Like many other people have already said, please take care of yourself. But also, I hope you're still enjoying writing these! Like it hasn't become an obligation or a source of pressure. Take all the breaks you need.

(You likely already know to do that, apologies. Just saying it because many many years ago I *didn't* know that ^^; )

No worries. That’s actually why I’d stopped writing on FFN years ago- felt obligated to answer every single request. At this point, I’m just doing this for fun. I’d missed writing silly TF stuff and you guys are challenging me to write characters I’ve never even considered

Drive Pt 5

Constructicons x Reader

• Tangled in your blankets, you curl onto your side with one of the three books that been in the things Bonecrusher and Long Haul had brought you and try to keep awake as Scavenger’s scoop sways with his steps. You’re not sure what they’re working on, only that you’d been picked up blankets, book, and all by Bonecrusher and plunked into Scavenger’s scoop. Along with three more blankets, a pillow, a bottle of water, and a box of granola bars. Can hear them softly arguing as they work, occasionally getting jostled when someone bumps your current ride and you tip your head up to stare at the stars overhead. Freedom all around you and you can’t get down without breaking your neck.

• Heading over to Hook to check the blueprints Scrapper had made for them, Scavenger can feel the warmth of you, feel every time you shift around inside his scoop and it’s a strange, but not unsettling sensation having you there even though he’d protested when Bonecrusher had just dumped you inside without asking. And it wasn’t like he could deny that you’re safer with them than alone in their habsuite. “You still good back there?” He asks walking back to gather more materials and shivering when you lay a little hand against him.

• Grabbing Scavenger’s scoop when he tries to walk past and tugging to make his brother nearly bend backwards with a strained ‘frag off, you glitch’ so Bonecrusher can check on you. Ignoring Scavenger, he rumbles when you look up at him and smile. Holding his brother still with one big hand as he struggles and swears, Bonecrusher reaches to rub a servo against your jaw and warms when you reach to touch his servo. Chasing you down had been fun, but now he just feels guilty about it. But he still gets a thrill remembering the hunt. Maybe when your ankle is healed you’d let him catch you again?

• Sitting up when Bonecrusher finally stops petting you and lets Scavenger go, you really can’t figure out their deal. The six big mechs so rough with each other, jostling and arguing. And then treating you like you’re made of glass. They’d chased you down like predators going after prey, scaring you half to death and now they’re keeping you like a favored pet. They must want something from you, right? Or maybe they just like having a something to care for. Standing, you try to see out over the top edge of the scoop.

• “Don’t fall and break something else,” Hook growls when he spots your little head peeking out and he reaches up to tap you gently on the nose with a servo until you duck back down out of reach. He can still see the top of your head, though as you move around. “Stay down,” he adds tiredly. Because the rest of the Decepticons seem to have lost their minds and he’d rather you stay out of sight. Megatron’s little message to the ranks and then that stupid brawl between the commanders in the hall has him on edge. Just keeps circling in his processor. Cybertronians and humans fragging. Primus. You should be safe out here in the woods, but he’s not sure what to make of any of it.

• Sitting back down, you listen to them working. Hear them pushing trees down. Mixmaster laughing raucously at something Scrapper said that you didn’t quite catch. The sounds of metal on metal, thumps and rumbles. Hooking an arm around your pillow, you stretch out on your belly with the book. There’s not really enough moonlight to read by, so you just listen to them work. Trying to figure out why you feel so safe with them when you should be scared, trying to escape.

Previous

[damnfeelings09]

Bad Romance - Shadow's version

A.N: This one for you! @bookdragon247 I hope it does live up to what you expected! Had a lot of fun *and blush* writting this one.

After such a hard day's work, you deserved a night of partying, and what better way than to go to the local bar for karaoke night. You found yourself with your friends Amy, Rouge, Sonic, Knuckles, and... Shadow?! It wasn’t that it bothered you to see him. Shadow was serious, quiet, sarcastic, and mostly disinterested in meeting new people, which is why it surprised you that he was there. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited to see him tho, because, maybe, just maybe, it could be that you had a tiny little crush on the hedgehog. Okay, in reality, you were completely in love with him. However, Shadow had always kept his relationship with you (if it could even be called like that) professional. You were both GUN agents, and on several occasions, you’d shared missions with the hedgehog. Every now and then, you’d greet each other in the hallways, share a small chat while waiting for your coffee, or discuss some important details about mission findings. Shadow had always been very kind, even when he was angry; he had never raised his voice at you, which your friends found strange, but for you it never seemed so important.

Shadow was wearing a leather jacket, and his signature white gloves had been replaced with mittens, like the ones bikers wear. You had never seen his hands before. His fingers were long and thin, his nails long and sharp enough to cause harm if he wanted, shining like onyx. In the middle of his hand, right between his middle and ring fingers, his fur changed from night-black to red, just like his quills. “How would it feel to be touched by those hands?” You wondered, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Ahem…” – Amy cleared her throat, catching your attention. You were thankful it was her who noticed you were lost in your thoughts and not Rouge, or she wouldn’t let you off the hook for the rest of the night.

“Well, well, look who decided to leave their cave,” Rouge said. “He probably lost another bet,” she laughed, remembering the last time Shadow had bet that Sonic couldn’t go more than 10 minutes without talking, and when he lost, he had to join them for Sonic’s birthday party.

The six of you headed to the Sing On! bar. Inside, the lights were dancing across the room, and the music filled every corner of the venue. You could still walk through the tables without any trouble, and the crowd applauded to the lemur as he sang “Too Good at Goodbyes.” Amy grabbed Sonic by the arm and pushed him toward the DJ booth, eager to sing a duet, while the four of you looked for a table. Rouge convinced Knuckles to head to the dance floor, leaving you alone. You loved your friends, but this definitely wasn’t the way to get closer to Shadow.

“Hey, Shadow. I had no idea you liked karaoke,” you said, trying to strike up a conversation. Shadow turned his face toward you, slightly tilting his head to the left in confusion.

“Not my cup of coffee. Sonic promised to leave me alone for a week, so I let him drag me here.”

“Ah… I should’ve known, Sonic can be a little intense with these things. Still, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Oh, yeah? ” he said, raising an eyebrow. "Why would you be?" His deep voice sent shivers down your spine, making you flush instantly. In the background, you could hear Amy and Sonic butchering “Don’t Stop Believin’.”

“Sure… we’re f-friends. I love spending time with you… Just like with Sonic, Amy, and Tails…” You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, hoping someone would come and save you from the humiliation you’d just caused. “Ah… I’m going to get a drink.” You fled as fast as you could, locking yourself in the first bathroom you found. You lowered the toilet seat and sat on it. You were done for—now you’d have to change your name, dye your hair, and move to another city to avoid the humiliation you had just experienced.

You heard knocks on the door. “Honey? Is everything alright?” Rouge asked from the other side.

“I just blew my only chance in the most humiliating way. Friends? What was I thinking?” you complained, slapping your palm to your forehead.

"'kay, time to stop wallowing in your own misery?” Rouge pushed the door open, forcing you out. “Listen. You’re gorgeous, maybe as much as I am, you’re a good friend, fun, kind, and Shadow likes you. I’m sure of it, and if not, screw that jerk. Now give me back my confident friend.”

You sighed deeply and straightened your ears back into your fur. Rouge was right—you weren’t going to stay and cry, ruining everyone’s night. Amy found you in the bathroom and, when she saw your face, she quickly asked what was going on. Rouge filled her in.

“Well, Sonic told me that Shadow only agreed to come tonight because you’d be here. Plus, he kept looking around after you disappeared; I think he was looking for you.”

“No way” you raised your voice. “Sonic must be messing with you.”

“I don’t think so. Sonic likes to joke around with Shadow, not about him.”

“See? The only one who can’t see what’s going on is you. Go get your man.”

The three of you went back to the main room. This time, gathering your courage, you approached the DJ and requested a song. “Well, here goes nothing”, you thought as you took your position on the stage. Quickly, Amy and Rouge stood up from their seats, cheering you on. The audience was paying attention, and a pair of crimson eyes were watching you curiously.

“Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh Caught in a bad romance Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh Caught in a bad romance”

I want your ugly, I want your disease I want your everything as long as it's free I want your love Love, love, love, I want your love (hey)

As you sang, you pointed in Shadow's direction. Rouge, who was standing next to him, playfully nudging his shoulder.

“I want your drama, the touch of your hand (hey) I want your leather-studded kiss in the sand”

You sang, tracing your lower lip with your thumb, keeping your gaze fixed on Shadow. You had no idea what had gotten into you, you just knew there was no turning back. Would you regret it when the song ended? Probably, so you had to make it worth it. “To hell with this,” you thought, as you got off the stage, swaying your hips until you reached Shadow. Once you were in front of him, you grabbed his chest fur, pulling him closer to your body.

“I want your horror, I want your design 'Cause you're a criminal as long as you're mine I want your love Love, love, love, I want your love”

“I want your psycho, your vertigo shtick (hey) Want you in my rear window, baby, you're sick I want your love Love, love, love, I want your love (love, love, love) (I want your love)”

Shadow looked… nervous?. His usual carefree and cool aura had disappeared, replaced by a pink blush covering his muzzle. Never, in your wildest dreams, did you imagine that the Ultimate lifeform could blush because of you. It was new to him—just a few weeks ago, he had realized he felt… more when you were near. He could feel his heart rate change when you spoke, the slight reddish tint and the sparkle in your eyes when you shared a moment together. However, he always told himself it wasn’t true, that he was imagining things, that you were just naturally kind, because how could you fall for him, being so... well, him.

The boost of energy from having Shadow so close, and the fact that he hadn’t backed away, increased your confidence, so when you returned to the stage, you blew him a kiss. You had never seen Shadow's eyes so wide open as they were at that moment. He turned his face to the side, trying to hide, but it was then that his instincts betrayed him, and his tail began to wag happily. Shadow quickly grabbed it with his hands, trying to hide what was happening.

“No, I don't wanna be friends (oh-oh-oh, caught in a bad romance) I don't wanna be friends (oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh) Want your bad romance (oh-oh-oh) Caught in a bad romance Want your bad romance”

The audience applauded, and Sonic and Knuckles cheered together, drawing attention. However, your gaze never left that figure trying to hide its emotions behind a mocking grin. Maybe it was time for Shadow to start to live and enjoy his life.

[kei-crocker]

I had received questions about what the concepts of these comics are.

Thanks for loving my comics <3 Sorry to say this, but I didn’t put much thought into this one… I just wanted to draw something with an SCP-like horror concept, or something inspired by Crayon Shin-chan Movie: Adventure in Wonderland (I LOVE this show so much).

Here’s the concept I had in mind when drawing this. I hope these answer your questions:

1. The siblings are their actual ages. I imagine Danny is about 3-5 years old, and Jazz is 5-7 years old. The reason Jazz seems to know how to handle things is because she’s a clever girl for her age, and she’s read a book about it too.

You can see the book in the first page. (And since her parents are ghost hunters, she’s already seen many ways to deal with ghosts.) Danny, on the other hand, is too young to handle it—he’s just scared.

2. The setting is an abandoned amusement park. How did they get there? Nobody knows. I like dark, creepy fairy tale vibes—where they go to bed in their bedroom but wake up somewhere strange. It’s not a dream, though. They just know it’s real, without reason, purely by instinct.

3. When I first drew this, I hadn’t fully decided on the concept (and still haven’t).

In this panel of the comic, they’re at home(unlike other panels of the comics), but their parents are gone, leaving them with a babysitter. (Or maybe the babysitter left? I don’t know what babysitters usually do in situations like this in NA). Anyway, no adults or older people are around (maybe ghosts already scared the babysitter away—poor thing, though I doubt they hurt them). So, Jazz hides Danny in his closet and tries to call their parents for help.

I just wanna draw some kinda clichè of some horror story; the little one hides behind his own closet from some creepy and scary creatures.

4. The monsters are just ghosts. I wanted to make them creepier than how they’re usually portrayed in the show. They’re just scarier-looking ghosts with more malicious motivations.

Since they’re ghosts, Blood Blossoms work to keep them away (Jazz learned about them from a book she borrowed from the library. Even creepy towns have their own libraries).

5. I wanted to give the ghosts a vibe of “What are they even thinking?” Like in traditional horror fiction or Napolitan horror (the kind of horror that blurs the reasons why something is terrifying). It’s the idea that humans can’t understand their thoughts at all. Honestly, though, I didn’t think too deeply about this part.

Wanna draw more horror concepts of this with some kinda creepy version of Henzel and Gretel<3 It's gonna be fun to draw 🤗

My taste is twisted, so I love twisted versions of fairy tales.... lol

They could not find a way out yet

Part 1 Part 2

Are you sure they are really good ones?

[ghostgirl-22]

Could i request a little something with patrick x fem art (or x reader if that makes you more comfortable) who has vaginismus, i have it and have been feeling really down about it recently because i cant have vaginal sex or masterbate without bleeding or wanting to cry.

Like i enjoy anal and can happily substitute but sometimes i wish someone would take their time to work me open and i really get to throw myself into it and be the slut i was born to be lol

Also so many guys treat it like a chore but i feel like patrick would understand and hed see it as a reward to get to fuck the person at the end and make them feel good because all pussy is good pussy and when he wants to make someone cum, hell find a way, hes determined!

Thank you for this anon! You’re so real…Patrick isn’t the type of guy to give up without at least a little bit of a fight <33

CW: 18+ !NSFW!

—-

You’re kinda kicking yourself for falling for it now. Patrick’s easy charm, his sense of humor, his looks. You’ve heard all the rumors. You know everyone says he’s got a big dick, that he’s promiscuous. It was okay before when you didn’t expect it to go anywhere. When you thought it was a little fun and flirting but he didn’t really like you. Not like that anyway.

But now you’re in his bed, his fingers tangled in your hair, you’re licking into his mouth. You can feel him, his cock. You’re wet and you’re horny, but you’re anxious at the same time. God if only it could be that fucking easy. You get wet, he gets hard and he fucks your brains out. But it’s not easy. It takes everything in you to pull away from him but you manage it.

“What?” He asks, eyes hooded, gazing over your face, your body. He looks hungry.

“Nothing, just… a little curious how the movie might end.”

He smiles. “Right. I thought you said you’ve seen Mean Girls like four times or something.”

“Uh well, I have a bad memory.”

He tangles his fingers into your hair. “Uh huh, god you’re so pretty. Are you a virgin?”

You glare at him.

“What? I don’t mean it any way… it just feels like you get nervous whenever we… get close.”

You don’t know why you say it. Maybe because he’s always so blunt with you. “It’s not that… it’s just…it’s difficult for me to have sex.” You blurt.

He chuckles but then settles a bit when he sees your face. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I thought you meant with me. Is that not what—“

You narrow your eyes and grip the sheets, irritated now. “It’s called vaginismus and it makes vaginal sex painful. Like even with lube it’s… um… hard to open up.”

“Mm,” Patrick says, curiously. Though now he’s blatantly staring at your lap. You’re still in your tennis skirt.

You’re starting to feel a little more embarrassed and uncomfortable. Why did you just tell the guy who’s supposed to be the local sex god that you’re fucking useless at vaginal sex. Why did you say vaginal? Or vag for that matter. Not once but twice. What the fuck were you thinking?

“Look, actually I’m just gonna go. I just remembered I didn’t finish that essay for Ms. Horne.” You say quickly, making excuses as you gather your things. You don’t really let him talk, which he seems to be amused by. You pop the movie out of the dvd player and by the time you’re out of there you’re dying of embarrassment. Certain he’ll tell all his bros about this. You’d been bullied before you started at MRTA, for your hair, for the way you talk, but now that you’re older the idea of being bullied for something sexual that you can’t even control makes you feel sick. You’re dreading what the boys will be saying about your condition.

You hide away in your room for most of the weekend. You only go to the lunch hall to grab things that you can eat in your room, like fruit and yogurt. Your roommate and best friend, the only other person you’ve told about it, feels bad and agrees to split a pizza order with you on Saturday night.

“Maybe he didn’t tell anyone.” Your friend suggests.

“Please it’s Patrick Zweig, he probably told Donaldson the moment he got back to the room.”

“Well they’re best friends— besides it’s a higher likelihood that he just tells everyone he hit it anyway.”

You wouldn’t necessarily want that— but it honestly beats the alternative.

”Honestly I wish we could’ve done it. I mean, his dick really is big like they say it is and I just wish I could… I don’t know… be a little bit slutty for a change. We’re gonna be in college next year.”

Your friend laughs. “You can— I believe in you. You just take a little more work. Which the perfect guy is definitely gonna appreciate.”

You’re starting to feel better towards the end of the weekend. Your friend confirms she hasn’t heard anything about you around school from Art Donaldson or anyone else Patrick is friends with. Sunday evening you're in bed watching Mean Girls again when you hear a knock on your door.

Confused you get up and pull open the door, expecting your floor captain but it’s Patrick standing there with his goofy little smirk and his backpack. “Hey.”

”Hey,” you say feeling your skin heat up with embarrassment remembering the other night. Not to mention your hair is a mess and you're in sweatpants. And not shapely sexy sweats, you’re in massively oversized sweats with old bleach stains.

“I snuck in, so can I…”

“Oh right,” you say, stepping aside to let him in the room.

He drops his book bag and leans in to kiss your cheek. “You look pretty.”

He has to be joking.

“What are you doing here?” You ask as he lifts your sweatshirt.

“I don’t know… finishing what we started.”

“Huh?”

“The other day, when you left. You said it was difficult for you to have sex.”

“Uh well… I mean with the condition.” You stammer awkwardly.

“Yeah I know, I researched it,” Patrick says, smirking.

“You what?”

“I’m very studious,” he says, half smile on his lips.

“Uh,” you stutter as he gets to his knees and tugs at your sweatpants and then your panties. Within seconds he’s kissing your cunt. You’re moaning almost immediately as his tongue flits around your folds, teasing just below your clit. You can’t stop moaning and you hope your roommate plans to get dinner after the mall or she’s gonna come home to an eyeful. Every time you get close he withholds and soon you’re so wet and frustrated that you’re gripping his shoulders and practically riding his face trying to get off. That’s when you feel him teasing you with his fingers and you start to tense.

“Fuck,” he whispers. He doesn’t sound frustrated but you apologize anyway.

“Mm baby, don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.” He breathes.

“R-really?” You stammer, you’re kinda stunned and a bit emotional.

“Yeah really,” he says, his expression almost incredulous, like he’s surprised that you would even ask. Like it’s a given. “Just call me Dr. Zweig. World’s foremost pussy doc.”

Before you can make fun of him for that ridiculous statement hes working on you again, tongue teasing along your clit only this time. You can tell he’s started jerking himself off and that kinda puts you over the edge. You’re shivering, your walls spasming as orgasm rips through you.

He stands up when he’s done and gazes at you, tangling his fingers into your hair. God his skin is flushed and his eyes are sparkling. “You’re so beautiful,” he says and you want to say the same thing back, but your a little tongue tied.

He grabs his backpack and pulls out some lubricant, handing it to you. “Do you ever finger yourself?”

”Uh… sometimes but honestly sometimes it hurts so I get scared to.”

“Ah well try it tonight,” he says. “You can touch yourself and tomorrow I’m gonna come back and help you.”

You swallow, anxious and aroused at the idea of it. “Okay,” you take the lube. “What if um— what if it doesn’t work?”

He shrugs. “It’s gonna work. Even if it’s not tomorrow, we’ll fuck next week, or next month, or in six months. Or whenever. You really think I’m just gonna get this close to pounding your pussy and let vaginis— whatever it’s called beat me? No fucking way.”

You laugh, feeling a bit more relaxed already. “You’re such a pervert. But thanks.”

That night you try fingering yourself in the dark after your roommate falls asleep and it feels a little less painful after your fingers are coated in too much lube but you do bleed a little. You’re anxious and nervous to see him again.

The next night you sneak into his room. He claims his roommate is out with his girlfriend so you’ve got plenty of time. You bring the lubricant and it turns out that when he said he’d help you, he meant he’d meant he’d lie between your thighs and lick at your clit while you finger yourself in front of him. You’re trying to ease your fingers inside and play with yourself and all the while he’s distracting you from the discomfort of it… licking teasing tasting… it doesn’t take long before you’re coming. Your fingers are barely inside but you still feel your pussy quivering as you moan through your orgasm.

Patrick looks up from between your legs, hair messy, jewel colored eyes sparkling. “God you’re so sexy… I’ve been dreaming of this since I first met you,” he hums.

“I wish you could fuck me,” you sigh breathless.

His eyes light up. “How does it feel? Fingering yourself?”

“Tight,” you breathe. “But um… I’m um… I’m really wet so it’s uh… it’s going in.”

“Yeah,” Patrick’s looking down, sees your finger slipping in and slowly disappearing deeper inside your cunt. His dick is aching so much from watching you come that he’s dangerously close to rutting on your mattress. God, you’re gonna be the end of him. He’s never had to work this hard to fuck before. Barely had to work hard for anything in his life. He’s gonna savor this. “Keep doing that,” he says. “Except try two fingers tonight.”

*

He has an away match the next two nights. The boys varsity team made it to the state finals again. He calls you while he’s in his hotel room to ask how it’s going. You decide to do it on the phone with him. It takes you a while but you’re able to handle two fingers as he teases you, “Imagine you’re on my big cock, imagine you’re so full and it just feels good.” His voice is so soft it makes you shiver.

“Yes, yes, fuck me baby. I want your huge dick in me. Wanna be a slut for you,” you groan. You can hear him breathing heavy into the phone. God, he’s fucking touching himself too. You barely feel pain, just pleasure listening to him as he gets off and then you’re coming too… feeling your pussy spasm around your fingers.

When you come to his room the following night, you feel all shy and giggly. He pulls you in and kisses you. He says smoking might help calm you so you’re sitting by the window sharing a joint before he lays you down. He’s giving you head while you finger yourself again but this time he coats his fingers with lube and slowly works his way in alongside yours, he’s gentle, paying attention to your breathing, your expression, your cues. If you hold your breath he’s asking if youre okay? If you moan he’s asking if you like it? If you squeeze he’s gently telling you to relax. It takes time, he’s got it on MTV on and Real World was playing when you started but now Road Rules is on.

“Fuck,” you whisper, staring at the three fingers pressing inside you. Slowly dilating you. You remember feeling pain just with one. And the pain isn’t all gone but it doesn’t make you want to cry.

“Is it okay?” He asks. He can’t help himself. He’s grinding lightly up against the mattress.

“It feels… it kinda feels good.”

“Yeah?” He says excitedly.

“Mmhm,” you breathe. You press your fingers back and forth a little more quickly and he matches your pace. “Fuck I wanna take your cock.” You groan.

“Oh sweetie… I’m a little bigger than this…” he says, his tone light but his breathing heavy.

“I know… oh fuck… need you.”

“Lets try one more finger,” he says, anxious.

“Okay,” you’re at your breaking point, you don’t even realize it when he’s added another finger. You’re more fixated on the way his calloused fingers are bumping up against your clit as they flick back and forth relentlessly, it sounds slipperywet and obscene. And suddenly you’re coming. Hard. Moaning out expletives. Your toes curling tight. He’s aching for you, eases his fingers out, they’re coated with lube and your moisture. He can’t help tasting them.

“Mm I bought you something while we were away,” he says distractedly. You’re fixated on his cock. He’s tenting in his shorts and he’s right. He’s definitely bigger than the fingers you’re now able to take.

“You bought me something?”

He pulls a box out from under his bed. “I made Art go with me to the sex store.”

You laugh, and look at the image of a rainbow dildo on the box. “Oh wow.”

“I just read it helps to try and get used to opening up or whatever,” he says, and it’s almost like he’s nervous now. Actual Patrick Zweig getting nervous.

“Thanks for thinking about me,” you smile and he seems to relax.

“I’m always thinking about you,” he smirks.

“Want me to—“ you gesture at his erection and he licks his lips and nods his head eagerly as you bend over to take him in your mouth.

*

That night you coat the dildo with as much lube as you can and try to ease it in. It’s not crazy big which is good but you’re a little anxious, terrified that if you can’t get this to work you’ll never get to fuck him. You fall asleep feeling a little defeated and overwhelmed. You’re tense the following day but you spend the next evening with friends going to a movie. It helps a little to take your mind of things. As fun and sexy as it is doing this with Patrick every night you realize you’ve been focusing so much on it that you’ve been wound up a little tight.

You pull the dildo out again before bed and surprisingly you’re able to get it in. You let it stay there hoping it will stretch you out and that your insanely tight pelvic floor muscles will get used to the intrusion, even welcome it. After a while you start to slide it back and forth inside yourself. Trying to keep your head in the relaxed state it was in while you were having dinner with your friends. Soon you’re actively fucking yourself with it. Your breath hitching as your roommate snores not too far from you. You’re biting your tongue to keep yourself from moaning out loud. The next morning you text Patrick. Can we try it tonight?

He responds back literally one second later. Yeah come over.

He’s just out of the shower when you get there. You wrap your arms around him and breathe him in, he smells so good.

“How was the dildo?” He asks, smiling.

“Good… but I wanna try you.”

“Yeah I’m sure… no pressure okay?”

“Okay,” you say as he guides you backwards to his bed. He’s desperate to fuck you but he doesn’t want to hurt you so he’s taking his time, condom fitted tight, over doing it with the lubricant. You’re feeling antsy and eager. You had fun last night with the dildo but as you watch him you can tell he’s a little girthier. You swallow as he presses at your entrance. Maybe you can’t do this…

You feel him anchor himself and slowly he’s pressing into you. He’s not even halfway in when you’re achy and overwhelmed. “I— um— I don’t—“

“You need me to pull out?” He asks, quickly and you feel him slowly pulling back.

“No,” you say quickly, “can you just… can we stay here?” You ask.

“Uh,” he takes a breath.

”Just for a bit.”

“Uh yeah,” he’s breathless. “How about— how bout you lead?” He whispers. “Take as much as you need.” And before you both know what you’re doing you’re moving, pushing your hips up and down barely if ever proceeding beyond that point where you asked him to stop. You’re fucking yourself, practically using only half of his cock and yet it feels like so much more than the dildo. And after a minute it starts to feel good. His dick teasing along your clit, pressing heavy… back and forth inside your cunt.

”Is this okay, baby?” He whispers.

“Yes, so good,” you groan.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re so fucking tight baby. So fucking nngh— you’re squeezing me so tight. Feels so fucking good.” Patrick gasps. And then he’s jerking himself, while you’re basically fucking yourself onto him. Sometimes testing yourself to push your hips higher and get more of him inside. It doesn’t take long before you two are falling on each other, breathless in orgasm.

“Shit,” he sighs, falling onto his back.

You smile looking up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

“Did it feel okay?” He asks.

“So good,” you sigh and rest your head on his chest. He leans down to kiss your head and then tangles his fingers into your hair.

“Thanks for opening me up,” you whisper, breathless. “I know there’s probably a million other girls who woulda been ready to jump on it right away.”

“Mm I like the challenge,” he says, softly. “Speaking of… I think we got a lot more work to do.”

“We do?”

”Oh yeah, probably shouldn’t stop this any time soon. I’m really committed to a cure. The cure being turning you into a slut for my cock.” He teases.

You laugh. “Okay then pussy doc, what’s my next assignment?”

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 1

Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC

Inspired by @beckyninja ' Titus x Reader fics and @hatsubara-8chan' s Titus x Theia art. Thank you guys for giving me the confidence and inspiration to finally do something with my own oc :)

I know x reader stuff is my forte, but it would mean so much if you guys checked this series out too. It was super fun to write and I think you all will really enjoy it.

As always, apologies for grammar and spelling mistakes. While this part is sfw, some future parts will be nsfw but I'll note that up the top. Typical 40kness and violence, also I've just gone and made up an entire og backstory for Gadriel lol.

Hope you guys enjoy! And thank you so much for reading xoxox

Love, Memestrider :)

Ellicent sobbed into his shoulder, soaking his collar and staining it dark. She'd been like this for ages; she didn't know how many, but it was enough that the grimy windows in front of them had darkened to black slabs with the disappearance of the sun and rolling in of night. She felt embarrassed by it. Ashamed. Kids down here lost their parents all the time, and her Dad had been sick for a long time. Knowing that should've made it easier, but it didn't. Her heart was still shattered. Her soul split in half by a stake of grief and anguish. She sobbed like a baby. Like a weak thing that the Underhive should and would eat alive.

But he didn't seem to mind.

His grip was as gentle as it was tight, as if he were trying to wring the sadness from her very being. He stroked her hair, rubbed her back, let her hide her face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he said. He'd said it many times before, but this one was no less genuine or earnest. Ellicent's throat ached too much to reply, so she only shook her head.Tentatively, he drew away from her. Not enough to break their embrace all together: just enough so he could look her in the eye.

"You know we have to leave him here, right?"

Swallowing another sob, Ellicent nodded. Down here, there were no medical services or law enforcement to collect the dead: there were only scavengers and cannibals. They'd find her Dad eventually, but if they kept her Dad in here, he might stay safe for a little longer.

"I know," she said. "But... but what about me? I can't- I can't stay here."He answered without hesitation or thought. "You can come stay with me."

"Wha- what?"

"I know Mum will let you. And if she says no, I'll make her. But she won't say no. I know she won't."

A dozen questions sat on Ellicent's tongue, but she was either too tired or too sad to ask. Sinking into his arms again, she wiped her eyes on his shoulder. "Okay."

"It'll be okay, Ellie. I promise, it'll be okay." Ellicent closed her eyes.

"Thank you, Gadriel," she whispered.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Remind me," Chairon says, using the box so he could be heard over the rumble of the Thunderhawk. "Which xenos is our target supposedly allied with?"

Gadriel checks the slide of his bolter for the umpteenth time.

"The dark eldar," he replies. "Specifically, the pack that has made this planet their favoured hunting ground."

"What about the necrons?"

"What about them?"

"Did the briefing not state that Severus' gang often makes use of necron technology?"

"It did," Gadriel says. "But that technology is stolen. Pillaged from only the Emperor knows where."

Through the static of the vox, Chairon's scowl sounds particularly vicious. "Damned heretics. Have they no pride or dignity to speak of at all?"

"Of course they don't."

Gadriel looks to his left where Titus sits beside him. Like his and Chairon's, the face of the lieutenant's helm is cast as a mouthless, red eyed glare. Somehow, though, Titus' glare appears even more intimidating.

"Creatures like Severus are among the worst kind of heretic," he says. "Chaos can corrupt the unwilling. Mutancy can affect the innocent. But to work with the alien? To turn one's back on their own species? That is a choice. One that is made willingly, without coercion or subterfuge.

"An uneasy silence settles across the vox. For a long while, the only sound comes from the roar of the Thunderhawk's engine and the collective of the three Astartes' power armour. Eventually, Gadriel is the one to break it by clearing his throat.

"Forgive me for saying so, sir. But, it sounds as if you speak from experience."

Titus turns his head towards Gadriel. The dim bar lights lining the Thunderhawk's interior reflect sharply off the golden laurels welded around his helmet's crown.

"You remain as sharp as ever, brother," the lieutenant remarks. "And you would be right. Severus' gang is not the first group of xenos collaborators I've encountered."

He pauses for a second. "As I said, they are the worst kind of heretic. Worse than political dissenters or atheist zealots. By a long, long way."

Silence falls once more. This time, however, it is morose. Sober. Behind his helmet, Gadriel chews the inside of his cheek in thought. It's a habit he's had ever since he was a boy- one so innate, not even Astartes re-education could snuff it out. He's reviewing the mission briefing in his head. Specifically, the intelligence regarding their target. Archibald Severus- a rogue trader turned planetary crime lord. Typically, such a man would not be a concern for the Astartes- such things were usually handled by the Inquisition alone. But Severus has been particularly problematic; almost all of his people wield necron weaponry and his Drukhari allies have all but brought the planet to its knees. Also, the Ultramarines just so happened to be in the area. Fortunate for the people who live here, though not so much for Severus. The last thought amuses Gadriel enough to make him smile. Yes. Very unfortunate for him indeed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Thunderhawk drops the fireteam amidst the exterior district of a hive city. The street upon which it lands is wide, dusty and long abandoned. Blade and plasma scars line the walls of every surrounding building, reminders of the countless dark eldar attacks the city has endured over Severus' tenure here. The Astartes quite literally hit the ground running. Bolters in hand, their objective's location marker pulsing in the top centre of their heads up displays. The objective in question is a warehouse- once a hangar for Imperial Guard aircraft, now just as abandoned as the rest of the district. Severus will supposedly be there, though the exact reasons why are unknown. But that doesn't matter to Gadriel. If the man is there, he will die. As surely as the blood of the Primarch flows through Gadriel's veins, that traitorous xenos-sellout will die.

The warehouse in question emerges from around the next street corner. It looks like a giant concrete brick dropped in the middle of the district block. Gadriel falls in behind his brothers, covering the rear while Titus leads the way and Chairon covers their flanks from the centre. But the area is empty. As if the entire district had been evacuated or disappeared. Considering what this place has endured over the last several years, that is probably not far from the truth.

"Gadriel," Titus says over the vox, breaking Gadriel's reverie. "Auspex."

The team halts against a nearby wall. The warehouse is now directly in front of them. Moving in perfect unison, Gadriel switches position with Chairon. He sidles up beside Titus, takes one hand off his bolter to extract the Auspex scanner clasped to his belt. He holds the device up and studies the screen for several seconds.

"Motion detected," he reports. "Ten hostiles, one hundred and fifty metres ahead. Baseline, by the sizes of the pulse."

"One must be Severus," Chairon says.

"Hopefully," Gadriel replies.

"But not certainly," Titus says. The lieutenant says nothing more, but Gadriel hears his unspoken order nonetheless: maintain your guard.

Despite their size and weight, the Astartes move like panthers on the prowl. As it is still light outside, they stick to the shadows where they can. Reaching one of the warehouse's walls, the fireteam lines up, Gadriel in front with time with Titus and Chairon covering him.

"We will breach the wall here," Titus says. "Overwhelm them with speed and surprise."

Chairon and Gadriel both acknowledge the order with a curt "yes sir". Internally, however, Gadriel is somewhat amused by Titus' choice in tactics. *One would be forgiven for thinking we were White Scars. All we're missing are the jet bikes.*

Chairon moves in between his brothers. He holster his bolter to his hip before reaching for his belt and extracting a fist-sized breaching charge. He plants the explosive on the wall, primes it with a button press, then motions for Titus and Gadriel to stand clear. Gadriel crouches down on one knee. His secondary heart joins his primary in beating, flooding his body with adrenaline. He looks between his brothers. Both give him nods of acknowledgement. Chairon touches his forearm, ready to activate the charge. As his fingertip brushes the button, however, Gadriel's Auspex let's out a chime.

"Hold," Gadriel says before pulling up the scanner. He furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

"What is it?" Titus asks.

"The Auspex has changed. All but one of the pulses have vanished."

"Vanished?" Chairon asks.

"That's what I said."

"But how?"

"I do not know."

"It matters not," Titus growls. "Chairon, blow the charge n-"

Before he can finish giving the order, the wall explodes on its own.

The shockwave slams into Gadriel with the force of a meteorite. It throws him backward, knocking him off his feet, sending him rolling over his side before landing on flat on his front. All three of his lungs are emptied of air and his ears ring as if glass were being shattered inside his skull. Gadriel ignores it all. Recovering his footing with staggering ease before raising his bolter in the direction of the enemy.

Only he can see nothing. Just the charred concrete debris at his feet and a wall of thick black smoke. Even through his helmet's filters, the smell of it is choking. Like the polluted air of an Underhive amplified and condensed. Gadriel clenches his jaw.

A gas grenade. Only it exploded with the force of a breaching charge.

It has to be Severus. He must have known they were coming, that they were there. Gadriel curses to himself.

We were too loud. Too forward. Not cautious enough...

"Brothers! Status!" Titus' voice crackles over the vox. Gadriel whips around to try and find the lieutenant, but the damned smoke is too opaque. "Alive and unharmed," Gadriel hisses. "But can't see a damn thing."

"Acknowledged." By contrast, Titus' voice is calm and level. "Chairon? What's your status?"

No reply. A fury like fire ignites in Gadriel's chest. "Brother!" he shouts. "Are you there? Tell us where you are!"

A flash of light catches his peripheral vision. Gadriel spins to face it, snapping his bolter sights up as he does. It's small, but sustained, growing in luminosity with every second. But that isn't what makes Gadriel's breath hitch. It's the colour. A shocking, neon green. Too vivid to be natural, too bright to be electronic.

Gadriel's eyes widen. His thoughts scream a single, terrible name.

Necrons.

With an plasmic screech, the particle beam blazes towards him. It aims for his chest, right over his primary heart. Gadriel manages to twist out of the way in time, but not before the beams edge grazes the top of the aquillia on his breastplate. Gadriel aims his bolter in the direction the green light, only for it to vanish as he opens fire.

"Contact!" he shouts down the vox to Titus. "Necron weaponry confirmed!"

The light reappears on his left. Much closer than before. Gadriel fires upon it and he hears his bolter round sing as they slam into alien metal. He dive-rolls to the side, anticipating another particle beam. But no such shot comes. Instead, the light swells. Growing from a dot to a long, curved streak.

"Throne!" Gadriel hisses. Throwing his bolter into the holster on his thigh, he draws his power sword. Just in time to parry the crackling, green energy blade that comes careening towards his head. Both weapons spark and hiss when they make contact. Faster than a blinking eye, Gadriel surges forwards to slash at the arm holding the necron blade. But his opponent is quicker. Smoke swirling about them, they duck his attack before launching a kick at his knee. Pain spikes through Gadriel's leg and he feels his balance slip. It surprises him. There aren't many things that can kick out an armoured Astartes' knee.

A necron warrior, though, is definately one of them.

The energy blade comes for his head again. Gadriel throws his chin up to avoid it, but in the process looses what little balance he has left. He lands on his back hard, grunting as the last of the air in his lungs is forced out by the impact. In the same instant, his opponent is on top of him. Erupting from the smoke like a daemon from the Warp pinning him down by crouching on his breastplate.

Now close enough to see them through the smoke, Gadriel lays eyes on his attacker for the first time. What he sees, he can only describe as abominable. At first glance, they are human- female, from her shape and build- clad in tattered, studded leather characteristic of those from an Underhive. Her hair is a stunning shade of scarlet and she has it up in a pony tail so long it flows behind her like a cape of ribbons. But that is where all semblance of her humanity ends. Instead of a left arm, she has a robotic appendage, the clawed, green-veined forelimb of a necron warrior, with a green plasma blade bursting from its knuckles. The same is true of her right leg, the foot of which is pressed savagely into Gadriel's chest, strong enough to keep the Astartes pinned. A necron rifle- the source of the particle beams, surely- hangs from a strap looped across her back.

Hatred contorts Gadriel's face into a snarl. Abandoning his power sword he reaches for his bolter, which is still holstered to his thigh. Wrenching the weapon free, he throws it up just as the cyborg-abomination above him raises her energy blade. Her face, too, is twisted into a snarl.

Time suddenly slows. Gadriel's finger stops shy of the trigger.

Her face...

Hatred turns to confusion turn to shock. His thoughts are a racing, jumbled mess. His mouth opens without him realising and he hears his own voice. It speaks a name he hasn't heard in over fifty years.

"... Ellie?"

The cyborg freezes. The snarl on her lips dies.

"G- Gadriel?"

Both of Gadriel's hearts stop. His mind is simultaneously paralysed and raging like a warpstorm. His bolter falls from his hand, clattering off his breastplate to land beside him. Gadriel doesn't even notice.

"Sergeant!" a voice bellows over the vox.

Sparks suddenly burst from the woman's back. As quickly as it had vanished her snarl returns. Leaping off Gadriel, she whips around. Her energy blade retracts into her arm and she reaches for her rifle. Gadriel turns his head to see Titus charging for them with his bolter raised.

The woman hesitates. Glances at Gadriel. Behind his visor, Gadriel meets her gaze. His eyes become wide and watery.

It can't be.

More of Titus' rounds slam into her, this time pinging off her necronian arm. She staggers backward, dropping her rifle so it's swinging limp against her hip. Another moment of hesitation. Gadriel opens his mouth to call her name again. But before the word can leave his lips, she's moving again. Turning her back and vanishing into the smoke screen. When it finally fades, there is no sign of her. Not even a drop of blood.

Gadriel swallow thickly. A lump has formed in his throat, large enough to make it difficult for him to breathe.

"Brother!" Titus clasps his arm, hauling Gadriel up into a sitting position. "Are you alright? Are you wounded?"

Gadriel says nothing. He doesn't remember how to speak. Nor can he even see his brother kneeling beside him. The only thing his mind can see is her. The day her father died. The day on the rooftop. The night they had spent together in her bed.

"Promise me you'll come back."

"I promise."

"I love you."

"I-"

"Brother?" The concern in Titus' voice is palpable now. "Gadriel. Can you hear me?"

Gadriel finally looks at the lieutenant. He nods, but still refuses to speak. He doesn't trust himself to. He's afraid that if he did, he might start to weep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

That's it! I hope you liked it! The first part of any story is always kinda slow, since you gotta set everything up, but I tried my best to keep things moving fast-like.

Thank you again for reading xoxoxoxo

Part 2 will be up in a few days probably. Hopefully I'll see you all then :)

Update: pssst, you can read part 2 here!

Tag list: @yurihasurunbara @beckyninja @nereidof40k @hatsubara-8chan @moodymisty @solspina @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @wolf-feathers12 @egrets-not-regrets

[thezombieprostitute]

Hii! 🥰 If it’s okay, can I please request a Ransom x shy!fem!reader where she’s his gf and he loves making her all flustered and shy? Like he spoils her with SO MUCH love, affection, flirting, and gifts and he absolutely LOVES her reactions (she’d definitely hide her head in his chest)

If there's one thing we all know about Ransom it's that he loves getting reactions from people. This probably isn't the story you were hoping for but it's the one that Ransom gave me.

Ransom Drysdale x Shy!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Bad family, Self-esteem issues, Stalker behavior. Please let me know if I missed any!

The first time Ransom flirted with you, you were certain it was a prank. Your face heated with embarrassment and you basically ran away.

It was rather unique experience for him and he was intrigued. He decided to run some tests and see if that's just how you were or if it was him specifically. He frequented the bookstore you worked at, observing your interactions with others versus himself. Some may have called it "stalking" but he called it "research". And he'd spend enough money at the store your boss would never tell him he wasn't welcome.

When he realizes you weren't faking, that you react the same whenever anyone gives you a compliment, he's even more intrigued. He's never seen someone so easily flustered and thinks you could be a lot of fun to play with.

Just like when he first flirted with you, when he asked you out on a date you immediately thought it was a prank and tried to run off. He cut in front of you, careful not to touch you without permission (he doesn't need an assault charge, after all).

"I'm being serious," he tells you. "I'm not trying to hurt you, I just...you seem like an interesting person and I'd like to get to know you better."

Your face is burning as you look down at your feet. "I just want to work, sir."

"Please? Just one date," he offers with that look he knows works on all the ladies. Well, all but you because you're not looking at him. "How about just a coffee together at the cafe next door? Please?"

And that's how you and Ransom started dating. Much to his mother's chagrin.

Initially Linda just scoffed when she met you. A bookstore employee dating her son? No way was this going to last. Best to not even get to know the poor girl's name. Ransom was just gonna use you for his amusement and dump you like he always does.

Except he doesn't. Over the months Ransom finds himself more and more amused and intrigued by you and your overly shy reactions. Sure it was just a fun experiment to begin with but he's finding he enjoys being your anchor. He likes that someone finds him so reliable, so safe. It's a side of himself he never knew about until you. The fact that, even after all these months of "spoiling" you, you still don't expect him to is something very new for him.

You never shrug at the gifts. You never ask for them, either. Part of him worries you'll never understand that it's okay to accept compliments, to accept gifts. So he makes sure to shower you in both, hoping it'll sink in.

"For the last time, Linda, I'm not getting rid of her."

"She's beneath you, Ransom. I get you've found yourself a charity case, but you can't get emotionally attached to these things."

"She's not a thing."

"But you agree she's a charity case," Linda asserts. "I've seen your spending habits, Ransom. You can't expect me to think she's at all good for you! She's clearly just interested in getting her grubby hands on our fortune!"

Ransom rolls his eyes. "She has never asked for any of the stuff I get her. I get them for her because her reactions are so much fun."

Linda rolls her own eyes, "I don't need to hear about your exploits in bed. I need you to get your spending under control and drop the gold digger!"

"But I'm having so much fun!" Ransom pleads. If his mother won't listen to reason, maybe she'll listen to this.

"Ugh, fine. Keep playing with your...toy. Just don't expect me to like her. And definitely tell me when you've finally dumped her back in the trailer home she came from. I've got a girl lined up for you that I think you'll like."

Ransom knows whoever it is his mother wants to set him up with is the daughter, niece, cousin of one of her friends. He'd rather die than date them. But he's done with this conversation so he turns away and that's when he sees you, crying.

"I'm...I'm just gonna go," you mumble before running off.

Ransom tries to go after you but Linda holds him back saying, "it's for the best. Now she finally knows, you're both done with each other. So let me tell you about Trillia. She's Karen's niece..."

Ransom doesn't hear anything. He breaks her grip and goes storming out after you but once outside, he can't find you. He tries texting, calling, messaging, everything he can think but no response.

After a bit he drives over to your apartment complex. He hits the buzzer for your apartment, no response. Maybe you weren't home yet? The buses weren't the most reliable. Maybe you'd taken the wrong bus? Fuck. He sits in his car and decides to wait. Every 15 or 20 minutes he tries calling you but you still don't answer.

Well, there's one place he knows you'll be at eventually.

It's taken a few days of waiting. Apparently you've been calling in sick. Ransom can understand that, given the likely shock you were experiencing. He hadn't been taking the best care of himself while trying to get hold of you again. He'd even developed a bit of stubble because he couldn't be bothered to shave.

But now, finally, you were back at work and he could talk to you. Well, he could if you'd let him. He knows creating a scene will make things worse for you so he's trying his best to not call out, yell at you to stop ignoring him, whatever. But you know the store so much better than him and are frequently able to get away, making him look for you all over again.

When it finally sinks in that he's not going to give up you let him find you one last time. Before he can even open his mouth you tell him, "it's over Ransom. I knew you were never interested in me so I'm just giving us both the blessing of cutting things off."

"I was just telling my mother what she wanted to hear. What I knew would get her off our backs. How could you think I was never interested?"

"You never took 'no' for an answer," you tell him bluntly. "I didn't want to go on a date, but you wouldn't leave me alone. I didn't want the expensive gifts you got me, but you insisted. i'd practically beg you to stop buying me things but you wouldn't hear it. It was all about you, never me. How could I not know you weren't actually interested?"

"Well excuse me for wanting to shower you with gifts!" Ransom immediately regrets snapping at you, making you wince. "I'm sorry. I just...I thought..."

"You enjoyed making me uncomfortable," you sigh. "You're not the first, won't be the last. I know I'm ridiculous. That I shouldn't be so shy. But you didn't have to make fun of me for it."

Ransom feels his heart break. It's true, he enjoyed your reactions, enjoyed being the one you hugged, and hid with. But was it really fair to you? He really never considered your discomfort beyond his own enjoyment of it. Beyond his own need to feel needed.

"I'm sorry," he finally sputters. "I'll...I'll try to be better."

You shake your head, "it's for the best, Ransom. Now please, for once, respect my 'no' and leave me alone."

Ransom wants to argue. To say it's not what you think. To swear to do better by you in the future. But it would only serve to prove your point. So instead he nods and leaves.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[thequietkid-moonie]

ZZZ request: Jealousy headcanons for Nicole and Jane Doe towards the reader please.

Jealousy headcanons

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Nicole, Jane ] [ Zenless Zone Zero ]

Since you didn't specify it i took in consideration both, while being in a relasionship and while still just being a crush, I have fun with both options so i hope you like them too!

Nicole Demara

It isn't exactly the easiest thing to have to deal with Nicole but once you two grow close enough to care and even trust each other Nicole actually becomes incredibly caring and loyal, she may not show it much but she will reach a point where she would put her hand in the fire for you

For Nicole to fall in love is quite a journey, it is slowly but not too slow, she just need to feel more comfortable around you before letting her guard down enough, but even once she does she has troubles expressing her feelings

It is easier for Nicole to feel jealous over you while you haven't become a couple yet, when is just that she has a crush in you she easily get jealous whenever you talk to someone in a too friendly manner or when someone show an obvious interest for you, Nicole knows that since you two aren't together she doesn't have any right to do anything about it and that just frustatred her even more!

Nicole is not good at hiding her jealousy in the slighest, she gets grumpy, loud and even a little agressive when taking out her anger (she is even more obvious if it happens that you two work together, imediatly taking you away with the excuse of having too much work to do), but no matter how obvious she is with her jealous she deny it completely, being too irritated and embarrassed to admit it

But if the case is that you two are already in a relationship it would be more dificult for Nicole to feel jealous, she still is easily jealous but since you two are together now she can easily cling to your side and make obvious your relationship, even showing off a little in front of the person who made her jealous

Depending on how jealous she felt is how she will react, the more jealous she feels the more exaggerated she will be and the more obvious she is, either by actually complaint about the person who make her jealous (and you for getting distracted by someone else so easily) or by being more clingy and affectionate in front of whoever make her jealous

Even so, no matter who it was or no matter if you are already together Nicole doesn't really like admiting whenever she is jealous because she is quite so prideful, it will take too much teasing insisting for her to finally admit it, but she would be so embarrassed about it that she will obligate you to make you up for her because of it

Jane Doe

Jane has quite a hard time when it comes to get close to someone else just because of how demanding it is her work, wich leads her to don't really have much free time and be practically a secret, still caring for someone deeply and even fall in love happens a bit quick since she can easily read others without much troubles (not that she is proud of prying in her crush's privacy)

Jane is not really easy to be jealous, even if you two aren't together yet she is mature enough to take things easy and trust in her own beauty and personality to make you fall in love with her, and if you two are together its because she knows she can trust you, she is loyal and knows you won't betray her so she has no much reasons to be jealous

However, is when Jane is busy with her undercover work when she become easily jealous over you, its just that when she is so busy all day and night, even wearing a new identity, is when she more feels away from you and when she missed you the most, somehow she manage to be concentrate enough in work but the moment she has a moment alone she finds herself imediatly sighing and thinking on you

Jane only feels jealous when being uncover and she happens to spot you on the crowd while being out, is when she sees you having fun with others while she is working is when she feels jealous, it isn't that she thinks you shouldn't have fun, she is actually so happy to just know that you are safe and happy, keeping with your life while she is away, what make her jealous is the people around you (actually, the closest that people are of you the more jealous she feels)

Jane tries to simply stay satisfied with the fact that she have seen you, even if it was just a brief moment but the bitter feeling stays with her for a long time, and the more jealous she got the more dificult it is for her to brush the feeling off

Jane is actually more jealous than how she likes to admit, but even if she doesn't let her feelings hinder her work she will make something over her feelings if she is trigger enough, Jane will make a plan to be able to have at least a few minutes free to be able to meet you, if you two haven't a relationship yet she will probably will just look at you from afar to don't risk anything but if you two are already together she will dragg you to an empty and private place to talk since she trust you enough to let you know what she works at (and probably to make out to get rid of the bitter feeling she had)