#the entire cast is force sensitive but it changes nothing

[edge-lorde]

@manateemoon

A strange alien doctor stands near the unconscious body of Padme Amidala. “It appears she has lost the will to live.” A older man with a limp hobbles closer with the aid of a cane. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” says Dr. Gregory House.

[my-naughty-writings-and-musings]

Transformers ROTB

NSFW Reader x Mirage

Just saw ROTB and Mirage changed my brain chemistry so I had to get this down ASAP while writing many other pieces of smut I hope to post soon. Please let me know what you think <3

Mirage got you back for all your teasing the second he pulled into the garage and transformed, his engine roaring in pent up frustration as he settled you on one arm and slammed the door behind him with the other. Having expected and looked forward to such rough handling, you happily allowed yourself to be hefted upwards to face your partner, his hands cupping you possesively as his optics met your eyes. The fiery need in their depths sent an echo of desire through your entire body before he pulled you in for a desperate kiss.

Moaning into your mouth, the speedster slipped a hand behind your head to hold you close as he fumbled across the garage to his berth, which was so difficult in his current state he ended up bumping his shins multiple times along the way. Each audible thump came with a hissed curse that made you snicker, but he persevered until he finally met the edge of the padded metal slab and more or less collapsed onto it. You were still in such a giggly mood you couldn't help chuckling when he muttered a euphoric "finally" as if arriving at an oasis in a desert. 

Settling you down beneath him, Mirage got the two of you on the same page with a sudden rush of kisses down your jawline, his dentae brushing the sensitive skin before he buried his helm in the crook of your neck. You arched at the touch and moaned softly for more, which he provided in the form of an unexpected bite, his tiny canines using just enough force to leave a subtle mark claiming ownership. Crying out and grabbing hold of him for support, you shivered as his warm glossa dulled the mild sting with slow swirls. Experience told you he was savoring the taste just as much as he was providing comfort. 

"Take your pants off, I've got plans." he said suddenly, lips just beside your ear. Complying with a soft sound of wanting, you wiggled out of your bottoms in a manner most would have called desperate rather than sexy. Big blue optics watched your every move with hungry intensity, and when he beheld you naked from the waist down his engine rumbled forcefully enough to rattle the berth. Throwing away your clothes without a care, you found him sliding a hand up your shirt without warning, and obediently leaned into the touch as he purred out further instructions. "Might as well toss everything you don't want me accidentally ripping to pieces."

"You'd owe me." you replied teasingly, sticking out your tongue as you rolled your top over your head. Mirage huffed with enough force to rustle the messy spread of blankets.

"You're kidding, right?!" he replied with indignant disbelief, looking all the more frustrated when you smiled innocently whilst unlatching your bra. Pretending not to be briefly subdued by the sight of your tits, the speedster continued his mock rant, recalling how the last twenty or so minutes had been nothing but you riling him up while he was helpless in his altmode. "The way you were fiddling with my gear shift in traffic? You're lucky I didn't pop my panel on that off-ramp!"

"Just a little extra motivation." you teased sweetly, tossing your last bit of clothing to the floor below.

Your incorrigible boldness briefly left him speechless. Shaking his helm with a chuckle, Mirage moved quickly to pin you to the berth below, gentle but commandingly firm as he made it clear he planned on getting even. Having expected as much, you had to bite your lip to restrain a smile, so eager for a heated pounding you could already feel yourself getting wet. Your own wanting turned to desperation when he loomed over you and cast your naked body completely in his shadow. Voice a full octave lower than usual, the mech loudly opened his modesty plating just before he rumbled out a warning. "Oh, I'm motivated alright." 

Lips met again in a passionate kiss, but this time he went straight for what he wanted, hands taking hold of either side of your body to slide downwards and savor every detail along the way. Whimpering when your breasts were teased with only a quick circling of his thumbs, you eagerly parted your legs to grant him access, looking down just as he grabbed hold of his erect spike to mass shift it to the appropriate size. Practice had allowed you to stretch sufficiently enough that he only needed to reduce his girth by a fraction of what had initially been required, and as soon as he felt himself reach the proper measurement he brought his hips to yours.

A small sound passed his lips as his tip met the heat of your entrance, and you watched his brows arch at the pleasure while his jaw went slack, helm rolling back as he finally got to push inside. Biting your lip at the stretch, you welcomed him with a moan, wrapping your legs around his hips to assure him you were ready for more. The unique array of ridges and nodes along his spike delighted you every inch of the way. Sheathing himself in one long, smooth stroke, the speedster took a moment to savor the feeling he'd been so desperate for, as overwhelmed by your tight heat as he'd been the first time. 

Instinct and experience got his hips moving, and you welcomed the first withdrawal and thrust with an appropriately excited cry, the feeling of his massive frame over your tiny human body making it all the better. Mirage growled as he finally got a hold of himself, hands splaying on the berth as he started to rock his hips and go to town just like he'd fantasized the entire way home. Tits bouncing with every thrust, you went from moaning to crying out when he activated his vibrator mods, the tiny nodes lighting up without warning to buzz against all of your sweet spots. Your wide eyes caught a smug smirk of revenge on his lips before he lost himself to a moan of his own.

Pulling him close and grinding your hips against him, you grabbed hold of his chest and held on for dear life as Mirage began to ride you for real, his vents releasing hot puffs of steam with every pound of his hips as his frame grew heated from the exertion. Making the berth rattle near to the point of threatening collapse, the speedster lost control completely in his haze of desire. Hunching over you to be as close as possible, he scooped an arm behind your back to heft you as the beginning of an orgasm coiled in your lower body, hammering right into your sweet spot as his engine roared out in exhilaration. You rewarded his creativity with a cry of his name just the way he liked it.

"Mirage!" you moaned showily, able to feel him approaching his own overload as yours built exponentially quickly. Hearing his name made the mech shudder and briefly lose control of his powers, the scene around you wobbling as his cloaking abilities surged and warped everything you could see until he wrestled back his willpower. 

"Aw shit, babe, I'm gonna..." he trailed off to bare his dentae and moan, but you knew exactly what he meant. The length of his spike throbbed inside of you, and just like that you were pushed over the edge, a rush of warmth and ecstasy crashing over your heated body as you clamped around him in a series of powerful throbs. Feeling you clench as if milking him did the poor mech in without delay. Optics briefly snapping open in surprise, he clamped them shut as his own overload hit with an accompanying surge of his EM field, blue sparks of electricity jumping over his armor as he came in an explosive burst of overdue release. The combination of his hot ropes gushing into you and your walls clamping down on his spike reduced you both to moaning wrecks unable to do much more than cling to the other.

When you felt the surge pass and the excess transfluid dribble onto the berth, you collapsed into a sweaty heap on the padding below, ribs rapidly rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. Mirage had enough experience to roll to the side once the afterglow reduced him to a purring kitten of a bot, his lips curled into a very pleased smile as he settled down beside you and vented the heat from his exercise. The mess wouldn't have occurred to you even if you'd been able to feel your legs.

"Wooo boy..." the mech sighed after what couldn't have been more than a minute or two. You opened your eyes just as he pulled you up the berth to face him, sliding over the bundle of bedding until your gaze met your lover's and found him looking very pleased with himself. Chuckling at the boundless ego, you scootched closer to snuggle him and fully enjoy yourself, more than a little smug at how easily this had all gone to plan. It was almost unfair how little you had to try to make him pound your brain out.

"Better?" you cooed, cupping his chin the way he liked. Mirage leaned into the touch and laid so you faced one another, far more relaxed now that his charge had been burned off. 

"Ain't nothing better than you, gorgeous." he confirmed, letting you nuzzle into his neck as he held you close and playfully stroked your hair. The softness mixed with his sass compelled you to relax as well, your naked body pressing into his to savor the touch of his warm mesh in the bliss of the afterglow. Dating a mech like Mirage was never easy, but it was certainly always worth it.

[moonselune]

Bit of a sensitive topic. But what about the BG3 ladies who have just entered into a new and shiny relationship with a fem Tav and the two are getting ready to sleep together for the first time, only to realize that Tav is inexperienced / a virgin and is very nervous about the whole ordeal.

This was so sweet to write !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Karlach's excitement is palpable as she leads you to her tent, her eyes alight with anticipation. However, as the moments pass, she notices your nervous fidgeting and hesitation. She pauses, her warm hand cupping your cheek tenderly.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asks softly, her voice filled with concern.

"I'm sorry.." You take a deep breath, your voice trembling as you admit, "I'm... inexperienced. I've never done this before."

Karlach's eyes soften with understanding, and she gives you a reassuring smile, pulling you into her embrace, "It's okay, babe. We don't have to rush into anything. We can take it nice and slow, don't you worry,"

Her strong arms offered a sense of safety and warmth. Karlach guides you to the bed, her touch tender and respectful. Throughout the night, Karlach is patient and attentive, her every action is aimed at easing your nerves and making you feel more than loved. And you feel more than loved, the entire time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

Minthara's usual commanding demeanor softens slightly as she leads you to her tent. However, she quickly notices your nervous energy and the way your hands tremble. She stops, her eyes narrowing with concern.

"What is troubling you?" she asks, her voice a mixture of curiosity and worry.

"Don't mock me. but," Taking a deep breath, you start to confess, "I'm.. how you say..inexperienced. You will be my first."

"And what an honour it is," Minthara's eyes soften, and she steps closer, her hand gently tilting your chin up to meet her gaze. "There is no need for fear." she murmurs, her voice surprisingly gentle.

Minthara's touch is firm yet careful, her usual intensity tempered with a desire to make you feel safe and secure. You soon feel secure in her embrace and she gives you a reserved tenderness you had only seen a few times before. Her acts are doting and you thank the gods that your first was with her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel

Lae'zel's eagerness is evident as she leads you to her tent, her confidence clear in every movement, it worries you. She turns to you, her eyes sharp and assessing, but they soften slightly when she notices your hesitation.

"You seem uneasy. Scared?" she asks, her voice laced with mock bravado but underlined with genuine concern.

You force a smile but then take a deep breath, deciding to be honest. "No! Well, yes… I'm somewhat...inexperienced, Lae'zel. I've never been with anyone before."

Lae'zel's expression changes instantly, the fierce warrior melting into something more tender. She steps closer, her strong hands gently cupping your face, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet hers.

"I will guide you through this," she murmurs, her voice surprisingly gentle and reassuring. "There is no shame in learning."

She leans in, her forehead resting against yours, offering a silent promise of patience and understanding. Her touch is firm but respectful as she leads you to the bedroll. Lae'zel takes her time with you, her movements are deliberate and careful, and the entire night she ensures that you are comfortable and at ease.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart's eyes are filled with a mixture of anticipation and tenderness as she leads you to her tent, the soft glow of the campfire casting shadows that dance around you both. The interior of her tent is modest yet inviting, though it does nothing to soothe your nerves.

As she begins to undress, she notices your nervous fidgeting and hesitation. She pauses, turning to you with a concerned expression.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" she asks softly, her voice a tender balm to your nerves.

You swallow hard, your voice trembling slightly as you confess, "I-uh, I've never done this before."

Shadowheart's gaze softens with understanding, and she steps closer, wrapping her arms around you in a comforting embrace. "It's okay. We don't have to rush into anything, I'll make sure you're comfortable every step of the way. I promise,"

You nod your head and melt into her. Her touch is tender and reassuring, her movements careful and considerate. Shadowheart is patient and gentle, that night, her every action aimed at making you feel cherished and safe.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The room is warm and inviting, filled with plants and artifacts that show her connection to nature, and anticipation is heavy in the air. She puts away your goblets of wine, looking at you with a mix of love and desire, but as she walks towards you, she notices your nervous fidgeting and hesitation. Her brows furrow slightly and she reaches out to you, her warm hand cupping your cheek tenderly.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asks softly, her voice filled with genuine concern. You take a deep breath, and steady yourself.

"I'm… just not as experienced as you… I've never done this before." You confess, before quickly adding, "And I'm not even trying to make a 'you're old joke'"

The two of you fall into a comfortable laughter, your heads bowing briefly before Jaheira looks up to you. Jaheira's eyes are filled with understanding and compassion. She smiles warmly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "It's okay, my love. We can take it slow, I've got you."

She pulls you into a gentle hold, her strong arms enveloping you in a sense of safety and warmth. Jaheira's touch is tender and respectful as she guides you to the bed, her every action infused with patience and care.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

These ones are short but sweet, did find it a bit difficult to differentiate them but I tried my best :) - Seluney xox

[creative-classpect]

Sylph of Void

The Sylph of Void. One who heals secrecy, darkness, and nothingness while also healing with them.

The cool black abyss. Come in peace and watch your step

Sylph- heal their aspect and heal with it. They bring their aspect to where there is little of it, sowing the seeds for their aspect to grow.

Void- major themes of nothingness, obscurity, and the Void. Minor themes of ignorance, secrecy, darkness and null.

Abilities

Shroud

The Sylph of Void allows shadows, mystery, and secrecy to blossom, bloom, and spread. The Sylph is capable of a sort of sleight of hand and misdirection, allowing little unnoticed changes to become areas of obfuscation and confusion. 

Initially this could manifest as a blackout doctrine, specializing in redacting, deleting, and disconnecting key pieces of information. Carefully editing audio and video, blacking out text in sensitive files, and other similar forms of direct information control. The Sylph is something of a counterintelligence agent, either as minor as someone being a troll or as grand as one of the Men In Black, choosing to carefully and meticulously erase key details.

At lower levels these methods of shrouding would begin to take on a more supernatural lean, able to not simply block out the information in the present, but expand beyond the medium to the information itself. When they begin octuring information it subtly alters other records of the same object or event and can even pass into the minds of anyone witnessing the shroud. Carving a face out of a painting could result in all other portraits of the person in the castle being similarly removed with servants unable to easily remember who the portrait was supposed to be of.

As the Sylph of Void progresses this would move beyond tampering and enter into interfering with reality with less interference. The Sylph would be able to cast their shroud over objects and people, akin to a magic placing a blanket over something they wish to disappear. While cloaked, objects and people would be in a field of stasis, unaware of time and unburdened by things like cause and effect. These people or objects sit in a place of superposition where until the shroud is removed, nothing has occurred yet. The coin at the apex of a toss. All while their gap in the world is felt, reverberating out. This can be used to effectively erase periods of a timeline, to hide things away in the hidden depths of the Incipisphere, and to allow the disappearance of any person or object to invoke inquiry about the mysterious void left behind.

At medium levels, the Sylph of Void can allow these shadows to lengthen, controlling a dimmer to the world itself.  Their shroud would increase in size, allowing for more subjects of greater size, number, and distance to the Sylph to become hidden. As long as they remain shrouded it is like they never even existed or a magic trick yet to meet a resolution, if it ever will. Prolonged time shrouded could result in things being swallowed by the void, never to be seen again. The Sylph could cause these lost things to be forgotten as well.

At higher levels, the Sylph of Void would be able to cloak entire places within their shroud, erasing and neutralizing all details and senses related to the place. Entire airships, armies, castles, moments themselves could simply cease to be. The looming dread of a mysterious threat passing over an army as monsters disappear behind the curtain of reality. The Sylph of Void controls the curtains of the stage, and with it, what stories get told. People, places, and events can be forced to transpire “off-screen” away from anything of importance or note, if the Sylph allows them to transpire at all.

Safe haven

A Sylph of Void renews with void, healing and restoring with nothingness, obscurity, and lack of focus. The Sylph knows how to take the pressure off, allowing time and rest away from the vibrant sights and sounds of the world around them. They can cause things to lose relevance and immediate impact, creating a gentle environment.

While they are more than capable of reducing harm, they might lack the drive necessary to achieve their ends or fully sympathize with the desires of others, a caretaker focused solely on recovery without the end goal of activity in mind. 

At lower levels the Sylph has a cooling, soothing, perhaps even to the point of stifling aura. They are capable of suppressing or even nullifying pain, hunger, and stress, at the cost of all else: initiative, drive, extreme emotions, and clarity of purpose. They could refresh and restore stamina and endurance and in more extreme cases, allow for their allies to simply shrug off harm and keep standing or even alive through the Sylph alone.

As they progress this ability to soothe and nullify would expand into an aura around them, a lack of narrative focus and spotlight allowing them to bring peace and reprieve. Similar to how conflicts in movies tend to slow for a character interaction scene, the Sylph would be able to bide their time. Attacks never seem to make a solid impact, ranged weaponry flying harmlessly past, boss monsters being easily distracted by other threats, etc. The Sylph would particularly excel at evacuations, with those they can maintain focus on simply fading away and disappearing into the background to maneuver and escape. 

At medium levels the Sylph of Void can create their own pocket in reality, a literal safe space beyond the borders of the world around them. This pocket dimension would be a space of deep introspection and quiet peace, where little, if anything, could interfere. Without shape and form, this nebulous area of nothingness is a cool dark abyss, where time is slowed. The Sylph and their allies would have a time to rest, a pause button for the world around them. While in this safe haven things may not occur in their immediate surroundings, but other functions far away may still occur. While the area around the Safe Haven may slow and lose tension, the spotlight must always be directed and for better or worse, it will go elsewhere.

At higher levels this Safe Haven would expand in dimension and ability, evolving from a small protective space to a large area completely outside the bounds of space and time, without cause and effect, without narrative pressure and tension. The Safe Haven is a world unto itself, existing between the threads of reality, the space between pages, where all lost and forgotten things dwell. Even should this kingdom of darkness manage to be breached, swirling protective shadows and horrorterror guardians are able to protect the Sylph of Void.

Passives

Something from nothing- you never require tools to fix an object or heal a creature, seemingly making due with nothing at all

Better without- even when you are not present you are helpful

Whisper network- you can share secretive information regardless of distance or method

- - -

This post was commissioned by @smiteblast442 ! Thank you for being patient <3

If you want to commission me you can find me @ https://ko-fi.com/kesscal

[echo-goes-mmm]

Kitty Elliot AU #3

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: implied past non-con, non-sexual nudity

“Elliot?”

Ambrose poked his head into his bedroom. No Elliot. He looked under his bed, in his closet, in the sitting room. Nothing.

Perhaps he had simply changed his mind, or more likely something had frightened him. 

Ambrose left his rooms, and checked under the bed in Elliot’s current bedroom. No catboy.

He bit his lip, and began to search the entire floor. 

All the guest rooms were empty, their wardrobes bare, and only stray dust bunnies lay under the beds. He made a mental note to sweep later.

Ambrose cast aside the urge to call here kitty, kitty! Too disrespectful.

“Ellie?” he called out as he went down to the first floor, the nickname slipping out before he could catch it. “Are you down here?”

He moved to check the kitchen, and a bundle of gray caught his eye as he entered.

Elliot was huddled under the stove, pressed so small it was nearly unbelievable.

“Hey sweetheart,” Ambrose said softly, bending down with his hands on his knees. “What are you doing down there?”

Elliot looked away. Ambrose could see his eyes were shiny with tears.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Elliot whimpered, which sounded like a ‘no’ to him.

“Did something scare you?”

Elliot nodded slightly, almost imperceptible. 

“Alright. I’m not mad, love, I promise, but I’d like it if we could try again. You’re not in trouble; I just want to make sure you get clean. You could get sick if we don’t wash all that grime off.”

Elliot whined, but unfolded himself and crawled out from under the stove. He hung his head low, wringing his hands.

“Thank you, Ellie. You’re doing great.”

Elliot silently followed him up the staircase, hesitating every few feet. Ambrose kept reassuring him, and that seemed to work.

The water was still hot, thank goodness.

Elliot stared down at the tub.

“It’s okay, see?” Ambrose stuck his hand into the water. “Just warm.”

Elliot hands fiddled with the hem of his boxers, and Ambrose understood the issue. “I’ll do your back,” he offered, “and your hair, if that’s okay. You can get the rest, right?”

Elliot nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He slipped off the ragged boxers, and stepped into the water.

Ambrose didn’t mean to stare, he really didn’t, but there was a prominent scar on Elliot’s hip. A raised, perfect circle with a design he didn’t know. And worse, finger-shaped bruises on his waist.

Ambrose swallowed thickly and forced his eyes away.

“There’s a good boy,” he said, voice choked up.

Elliot sat in the water, knees to his chest, his fingers playing with the water. He hadn’t taken off the collar, and Ambrose debated back and forth.

“Would you like to take this off?” he asked, brushing his hand over the leather. Elliot shuddered, but shook his head. 

“Can I loosen it a little? So it doesn’t rub at your neck so much?”

Elliot didn’t respond, and Ambrose tugged the buckle open. He slipped the collar two notches bigger and refastened it. 

“Better?”

The catboy nodded. “Good. Thank you for letting me.”

Ambrose rolled up his sleeves. He cupped water in his hands, pouring it over Elliot’s hair.

He wet a washcloth and began to rub gentle circles on Elliot’s delicate ears. The soap was for sensitive skin, and hopefully wouldn’t irritate his fur.

Gray slowly made its way to white, and Ambrose avoided getting water in his ear canals.

Ambrose picked up a comb, carefully working through the matted hair.

Elliot was so still, his back tense, and Ambrose hummed soothing notes as he slowly untangled each section.

After a while, his hair was mostly tangle free. Ambrose poured more water on, adding shampoo. He massaged the soap in, the bubbles turning gray and cloudy from the filth.

Elliot gradually relaxed more and more with each wash, and soon he was pressing his head into Ambrose’s hands. His shoulders slumped, and he unwound his legs.

Ambrose smiled as he added conditioner and brushed through the now-white hair. Elliot wasn’t purring, but maybe that would come with time.

He dipped the washcloth into the water and started on Elliot’s neck and back. Ambrose scrubbed as much as he dared, taking extra care around the bruises and raw skin. He wiped down the leather collar, taking off the grime until it was clean.

Elliot sighed, deep and content.

“You like that?” asked Ambrose.

“Mm… mhm…”

Ambrose chuckled.

But as he got lower down Elliot’s back, that contentment disappeared. Elliot tensed, gripping the edge of the tub as Ambrose wiped at the small of his back.

“Almost finished,” he soothed, but Elliot didn’t relax again until he was done.

Ambrose passed the washcloth, now a dark gray, over Elliot’s shoulder to him. “There.”

Elliot took the cloth and started on his front as Ambrose sat back on his heels. The bath water was gross and cloudy.

“Once you’re done, I think you should have a shower to rinse off. Maybe go over your body one more time,” he suggested, and Elliot didn’t indicate any disagreement.

After a quick second scrub and rinse, Elliot looked much better. His skin was clear and soft, his fur shiny and sleek, his hair fluffy.

He stood taller too, although he was still a head shorter than Ambrose.

Elliot’s hair was no longer gray, but white. The fur- his ears and tail-were also solid white. Like clouds, or fresh snow.

“Feeling better?” Ambrose asked as Elliot toweled off. He nodded with enthusiasm, and Ambrose smiled at his expression.

“Let’s go pick out some clothes for you.”

Elliot decided on a pair of black boxers (Ambrose had to hastily cut a hole for his tail) and an oversized shirt whose hemline nearly reached his thighs.

He refused to even look at the pants and skirts, and Ambrose didn’t want to push it.

“I promised you some cream, didn’t I?”

Elliot’s ears swiveled towards Ambrose before his head did. He nodded, eyes bright.

Downstairs, Ambrose poured out the pitcher of cream into a mug. Elliot dropped to his knees on the wooden floor as he approached with it.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said, putting the mug on the bar. “You can sit up here.” He patted the barstool.

But Elliot shook his head, his eyes on Ambrose’s hand.

“Could you try it for me?”

Elliot’s focus turned towards the mug, and a high whine sounded from his throat. 

Ambrose held back a sigh. He promised cream, and if Elliot wouldn’t drink it from the mug, he better get a bowl. He didn’t want to break the very tentative trust Elliot had given him.

“Wait right here.”

Ambrose grabbed a bowl, and poured the mug of cream into it. He set the bowl down on the floor. Elliot didn’t move.

“It’s yours,” he said, and before he could get out the ‘s’, Elliot was lapping at the cream. 

Ambrose sat at the bar, watching Elliot lick up the last few drops.

“Good, huh?” 

Elliot smiled up at him, small and nervous, but it was a smile. The first one Ambrose had seen.

Ambrose reached out a hand to pet him, but Elliot’s face shuttered. He moved away in an instant, and Ambrose tried not to feel hurt.

“I- sorry. I should have asked.” Elliot stared at him with the same wild, scared look from yesterday.

So much for trust. 

Ambrose picked up the empty bowl. “You can go look around if you want,” he said, turning away and grabbing the dirty mug. “I’ll just… be in the kitchen. If you need me.”

He walked into the kitchen, dumping the dishes in the sink. Disappointment and guilt flowed through him as he rinsed each dish.

Disappointment because Elliot didn’t want to be touched, and guilt because Ambrose shouldn’t have been disappointed in the first place. He wasn’t entitled to petting Elliot. Ever.

He stared out the window above the sink, watching the birds flit around the bird feeder.

Ambrose sighed. Elliot was here to stay, and he’d just have to be patient.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings

@zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone

@snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @latenightcupsofcoffee @tobiaslut @whumpsoda

@loserwithsyle @bitchaknso @taterswhump @fleur-a-whump

[just-prime]

8 : Oh so boring

The horrifying MCU-ification of the Star Wars universe is in horrific display as 8 episodes lead nowhere but setup.

Before I get to everything else, I do want to say, Ray Stevenson's passing is a true tragedy, and I appreciate the love and care he clearly put into his character. He was the only compelling one, and I shudder to think of how Disney will probably heartlessly recast.

Now, on to the episode

Well, all the leaks that said it was zombies were right, to the surprise of no one. This is the MCU now, we need something more than just a fuck ton of stormtroopers to blow through, we need an undead CGI army.

First off : The Jedi, The Witch, and The Warlord...FUCK OFF FILONI. YOU ARE NOT CUTE.

The show opens with the attempt to lull Legends fans back into a Sion reference for no reason. Also, Thrawn's super baggy pants seem unnecessary, especially since the design in Rebels always has him in perfectly tailored clothes. Nothing during his decade abroad that would have cause the pants to change that drastically, so it just feels like an unnecessary change that is not an attractive look :(

Morgan's power ups make no sense, and as soon as she got them she was going to die. Her eyes had me making a half dozen Supernatural jokes for obvious reasons. The whole "Blade of Talzin" thing is also very dumb given the fact that I assume Mother Talzin would have used every weapon in her arsenal to stop Grievous, and I would think a lightsaber proof sword is on that list.

The entire "Ezra makes himself a new lightsaber" scene filled me rage for a few reasons.

A) Ezra literally just turned down Sabine's offer of the lightsaber for the martial arts force powers which we never see him use again.

B) Huyang knowing about Caleb and Kanan being the same person feels kinda weird to me to be perfectly honest.

C) Ezra's new lightsaber is boring. Full stop. This is the kid who built a gun into his first one, it makes no sense that he'd make one that looks this mediocre.

D) All of Sabine's family dying horrible deaths on Mandalore has always struck me as a cop out. It's just lazy writing to isolate Sabine.

The Stakes

Spoiler alert : THERE ARE NONE

We knew this was going to end in a cliffhanger for a while now, which means none of the main cast was going to die. Morgan has always been a means to an end for Thrawn, not that her loyalty was ever explain...But none of our heroes were gonna bite it (regardless of how I hoped for Huyang to explode) so there were no stakes. Thrawn had to escape, despite the fact that he is weirdly shaken, so he does. Ezra had to get home, so he does. Sabine and Ahsoka are now trapped on some stupid Mortis world??? Okay, pause, I'm getting ahead of myself here...because before that...

Sabine has the Force now

My deepest condolences to anyone who is finding this out from me, but Sabine is offically confirmed and shown to be Force sensitive. Yes it is dumb. Yes it makes no sense. Yes this is something we all saw being foreshadowed from day one, unfortunately. Especially with the playing down of her Mandalorian-ness (she's constantly losing her helmet, her gun accuracy has utterly gone, she barely uses her gauntlets, etc etc) it was obvious that Filoni wanted to do with her, what he was too cowardly to do with Grogu.

Other miscellaneous shit

It turns out that Ahsoka's shuttle is Jedi era...which makes no fucking sense.

The nightsisters being totally on board with the Empire feels like their ability to tell what's going on in the main universe might be a bit sketchy do to the fact that they missed that the guy in charge of the Empire is the one who ordered Dathomir razzed.

100% of the problems that the gang run into would have been solved if Sabine had a fucking jetpack

They pull the "Thrawn knew Anakin" card out of nowhere in the dumbest possible way, which really just goes to show how much FIloni hates the new canon Thrawn books.

Chopper recognizes Ezra (which was rather cute) before Hera does, because he decides to show up on a New Republic cruiser in full Thrawn stormtrooper garb. Also we don't even get a hug between Hera and Ezra.

Shin (because she exists, remember?) who is also stranded now, goes and appears to be taking over the bandit camp we saw earlier. Have no idea where they are taking that...but honestly, good for Shin doing something for her, this seems like a selfcare move.

Now, the ending...Fucking Mortis

So, the final shot we get of Baylan, he is standing on a giant statue of The Father (there is a statue of The Son, and a destroyed statue of The Daughter) pointing out towards something on the horizon.

Back at the hermit crab people camp, Ahsoka and Sabine (and fucking Anakin's ghost, because that's right people, instead of hanging out with his son, Anakin has been just hovering over Ahsoka this whole time apparently) here this chirping, and it's a fucking creepy hyper realistic CGI Morai.

So yeah, that's clearly how all of the trapped characters are going to get off this planet...the World between Worlds. Now, this brings up a fuck ton more questions...Chief of all being how did Ezra not use this to escape years ago???

And I get that Mortis is not everybody's favorite Clone Wars arc. Which is fair. I don't hate it, but I never loved it, and Filoni dragging in the dumbest piece of Force lore that he created is infuriating. ESPECIALLY with this being so obviously aimed at those who've not watched Clone Wars or Rebels. I'm curious to see how much he immediately recons about it, given that it's been his go-to move since before even Mando s3...

I fear they're going to do something like "Bayan is The Father, Ahsoka is The Daughter, and Shin and Sabine have to fight over being The Son" or some stupid bullshit like that.

I'm glad this is the last Filoni property we're getting for a while, since I'm pretty sure he's not involved with Skeleton Crew at all writing-wise.

I am just so happy it's over!

In the meantime, if you are as annoyed at Filoni as I am, spite him by reading the new canon Thrawn books!!! They are really fantastic and give Thrawn a lot of facinating depth, along with having an incredible cast of side characters.

For those of you who are new or just finding me because of my Ahsoka rants, please stick around!!! I'm sure I will be having other annoyed Ahsoka thoughts in the weeks to come as I think back about the full series and about just everything that it's fucked up. Feel free to pop into my ask box if you're curious about my other Star Wars related opinions, I'm more than happy to answer, though know that for the majority of the recent shows, I do not look fondly.

But if you are looking for some vindication on not enjoying recent Star Wars things, then this is the blog for you!!!

[acethatlovesdinos]

Time for a rant on a beautiful au I found, I have escaped containment and none can stop me

@asleepyy's amazing Oopsie!Omens comic currently has me in a chokehold (in a good way) so now imma write a mini essay overanalyzing characterization and story points :] (go read it if you haven't it's right here)

The story they've crafted is incredible, and the view shift is a fascinating perspective. I recommend yall read it if you get the chance.

I just wanna go off about the potential endings that this entire story prompts. (This is WAAAAY far away in the comic, considering where they are in the plot currently, but this is about the end of S2 of the actual show, so beware spoilers)

~~~

If it goes according to how the show did, the Metatron is going to offer to return them both to Heaven, as well as restore Azazel's angelic form.

But my question now is, who is he going to ask? Many of the conversations had between characters, between the show and this comic, have been almost interchangeable between Azazel and Jophiel.

If he asks Jophiel, the answer is likely going to be 'I think the fuck not, don't ever talk to me again'.

By this point he's well aware of their manipulative tactics, and there's no way he would ever force himself or Azazel to go back to that.

But if that happened, I don't think Azazel would confess when Jophiel returns to the bookshop. Theyre too careful, too reserved. They like things as they are, and any thoughts to change that is awfully frightening. I don't think Aziraphale would have ever brought himself to confess first either, in the show. That's just not his style.

Conversely, (and in my opinion far more likely to happen,)

If he asks Azazel, and offers to restore their Angelic status and accept them back to Heaven (likely under the guise that some errors were found in paperwork or something, and that their good nature qualifies them to return), the situation becomes a bit more sensitive.

First of all, if that happened I'd be absolutely convinced that it was a trap,

And second, more importantly, Azazel loves God. They love Heaven. They still believe in kindness and goodness and wish for nothing more than a peaceful existence. If they had an opportunity to go back to that, I've no doubt they'd want to accept it, provided Jophiel came along.

"He said he could appoint me to be an angel. We could go back to Heaven and... and everything, like the old times. Only, even nicer."

Azazel has always been loyal to Heaven above all, it seems. They still believe in hope and love and all the things angels are meant to be. Of course they would jump at the chance to return to a place where they believe theyre cared about.

And it'd make Jophiel's refusal hurt that much worse. It would make Azazel's pleading that much more painful to bear. Because we know that heaven isn't as good as they want it to be. Jophiel knows it too. Azazel isn't naiive, theyre simply too kind for their own good. They look for the good in places where there's hardly any to be found. They always have.

"Well, obviously you said no to Hell, they're the bad guys. But Heaven... Well, it's the side of truth, of light, of good."

"When Heaven ends life here on Earth, it'll be just as dead as if Hell ended it.

Tell me you said no."

Jophiel would be pleading, begging Azazel to open their eyes, to see things as they are, and understand that Heaven isn't going to be what they want. It's still going to be cruel and cold and unforgiving, just like it was when they were Cast Out.

"Jophiel, come back! To Heaven! Work with me! We can be together! Angels...doing good!"

Isn't that what they always wanted? Theyve been burned (literally) by them, more times than can be counted, yet they still turn to God. They still retain Faith in the ones who abandoned them, truly trapped in this manipulative, abusive relationship.

"I dont think you understand what I'm offering you."

"I think I understand a whole lot better than you do."

And in the end...after the Kiss, at least if it's aligned with some of the other parallels in the comic, Azazel's last words to the angel will be

"...Forgive me."

(Not to mention, like i said before it's probably a trap, since it's been made clear that Heaven isn't a fan of Azazel anyway, if they go with them, Jophiel probably needs to come to their rescue afterward)

BUT THEN THERES ANOTHER POINT

Many theories are suggesting that, unseen to us, Metatron also threatened Crowley's soul, which is why Aziraphale was so desperate to have Crowley listen.

If we went with that direction,

Jophiel would be shocked when the Metatron says so. He would be afraid. He wouldn't know what to do. There wouldn't be much of another option, and he would be completely powerless to stop it from happening. In his mind he'd have no choice but to accept, and he'd likely be forced to submission in Heaven, unable to reveal the truth to Azazel, lest they be destroyed. The restored angel would be thrilled and so happy to be close to God again, and has no idea what kind of danger they're in, all riding on Jophiel's silence.

Azazel would be terrified. Jophiel was the first and likely only character to ever treat them like an equal. The idea of losing him would likely destroy them from the inside. They'd be more desperate than ever to have Jophiel join them, wanting to protect him like they've always tried to. Also, if this were the case they're likely wise to heaven's true intentions by now.

I dunno about you but I'm quite excited for my soul to be utterly s h a t t e r e d when that part happens

Anyway sorry, overanalysis is my favorite thing, thank u for coming to my Ted Talk

[cursedfortune]

It's easy to just go, "Haha, her spell of regeneration is so capable" but I like to think about the nuances of it. The amount of years it took to become desensitized to cuts, bruises, being stabbed, shot with various projectiles. And even with that, she isn't immune to pain - she has just grown to have a very high pain tolerance. To the point she can become maddened/manic by either feeling almost nothing or when she is still experiencing pain in combat. There's no winning.

Being set on fire still hurts her. Between the trauma of what she endured from a young age to the fact fire is effective, it has been something she cannot truly become desensitized to. Just endure. Fire, like acid and certain venoms/poisons, constantly push back on her spell. So it's just a matter of her spell winning out over time or her taking care of the passive damage.

I don't write this as 'Mortem can't feel pain for the most part' but more-so, 'Mortem can feel pain, she's just hardened to a lot of it'. Softer touches and gentle things she notices instantly because that's not the norm. You may as well be touching raw nerves. She is used to a harsh touch but not fingers ghosting over her forearm. The effect it has on the nerves differs from what she's used to.

When Mortem forged her spell of regeneration, it was her in her youth. She accounted for a lot of aspects to it, but certain nuances and consequences still made it through. Her spell gave her a high metabolism which should make her warm, but constant cell regeneration contributes to her feeling colder to the touch.

Mortem may have built a terrifyingly useful spell, but it has a single weakness that can be exploited and undo everything. That being said, despite this spell, it is really because of her willpower to endure and overcome that has made her into such a formidable force.

When she realized her physical limitations, she took to integrating aspects of the beasts that dwelled within her forest to empower herself. Her abilities are primarily to serve her purpose and not be offensive, but she has pushed herself to be able to weaponize herself because the world needed the witch to fight. Because some souls had to be put to rest despite not wanting to. If it's something needed for her purpose, Mortem can adapt to learn it. Sometimes it's a permanent change to herself, like tattooing an open gate to all energy/magic on her chest. Other times it's temporary abilities she borrows by forging a spell and then relinquishing it once her spell is cast and done with.

The entire subject of Mortem being desensitized with many kinds of pain and her being sensitive to lighter touches is also especially important. It ties into her core ability of energy manipulation - which involves the soul. Souls and bodies are interwoven, what affects one will affect the other so varying degrees. It has been an ugly journey. At times, it was her soul that willed her to become desensitized to pain. At other times, it was her body being in such agony that maddened her into numbness until desensitization was forced upon her. A lot of this was done at the hands of witch hunters or her enemies in war - a portion of it, however, she did to herself in order to experiment and learn her own limitations.

Witches will always be products of the world state and in return, the world state will be a product of witches. She will become whatever is needed to carry out her specific purpose, no matter the morality or how seemingly impossible it is. It may sound like there's a lot Mortem can do, but that's not at all accurate. There's a lot she has the potential to do, but that doesn't mean she can do it unless there's no alternatives. She can't do elemental magic beyond calling a storm, but if she needs it - she'll either have to get help or forge a spell.

There's a running joke that Mortem loves heights and wishes she could fly, but her purpose has no reason for such an ability. So she just SIGHS over it. If there's no reason, it serves no purpose to her directive. Everything Mortem has done to herself has been carved into her, it's tattooed across every inch of skin that's not visible with her usual dresses. Everything she has done to herself is linked. Stacked. It makes it difficult to topple her over but if one ever learned the way to, the entire thing known as Mortem would come crumbling down and shatter.

While her strengths are very useful that doesn't change the fact the consequences for her abilities exists. If you learn what to do and manage to succeed defeating her, you can absolutely one shot Mortem out of the realm of the living. It was audacious she made these rules for herself but it was necessary. She isn't immortal. She doesn't want to be immortal. Her spell if good, it keeps her alive to serve her purpose. But she is part of the wheel, the cycle, the natural balance. Being fallible is that. You can imprison her, hurt her, put her out of commission temporarily or permanently - all of this matters in how she designed herself. She is a reflection of the world's needs and later the needs of the cosmos. Which is all the more reason her nickname is the Bride of the Universe (which she doesn't approve of still lmao).

[delusion-wastaken]

Okay basically here's the start to a lore of dump of my Daycare Reset AU, basically a sort of "Swap AU" of Sun & Moon from FNAF. Enjoy the lore! Or- or don't, I guess.

[So when Solar and Lunar were first made, they were performance animatronics that performed at the Lights Out Theatre. And they weren't named Solar and Lunar back then, but rather Sun and Moon. Classified as a light-sensitive animatronic, in the presence of light, Sun would be in control and when it was dark, Moon came out.

When they were moved to Daycare, they were both reprogrammed to be made more Daycare Attendant-like. Sun ended up in charge of playtime, and Moon placed in charge of naptime. The children adored being around Sun, they got to play whatever games they liked and had loads of fun. The children, being children, didn't like naptime, because that's boring! They wanted to play, not sleep. So Moon often had to scramble around, putting the kids back to bed. The children loved Sun, but didn't bother much with Moon.

And then Moon felt... Neglected, in a way. Sun got most of the attention because Sun was cheery and bright, but Moon apparently ruining the children's fun by trying to get them to sleep. Weren't the two meant to work together? Moon felt like they just weren't good enough. And they were jealous. They wanted to be appreciated, but they were often just cast to the side because they were only the Moon. And the Moon can't shine brightly like the Sun, because the Moon only reflects light from the Sun.

[And then, Moon started to malfunction. It's not clear why it happened, but Moon started to act out more. They were almost... Forceful, in getting the kids to sleep. Some children were so terrified to the point that they didn't dare to sleep without the lights on. Which of course, made the situation worse.

And Sun was worried about Moon. Moon and been rather... Distant, lately, not talking to Sun much in their shared headspace. Moon just seemed... Off, too. Sun hoped their "twin" was okay.

.......... Moon hurt a child. They hadn't meant to, but they did. They really hadn't meant to, they promised. But the damage was done. Fazbear Entertainment attempted to remove Moon entirely from Sun, but failed. Moon remained. So the company decided that they would just have generators in the Daycare, so that the lights could always be turned back on. Keeping Sun in control, and Moon restricted. Sun developed a paranoia with Moon, enforcing one, single rule. Keep the lights on.

Sun and Moon.... argued. Before Moon truly began to change, the two had argued. That's why Sun didn't immediately suspect something was wrong, they'd assumed that Moon was just... Mad at them, for some reason.

Sun had said a lot of things to Moon. Things that they weren't shouldn't have said. They didn't mean it. They'd never mean to say something so hurtful to their counterpart. But they did.

*"You're just.... You're just a parasite, Moon!"*

Sun remembers Moon's hurt expression. Sun remembers frantically trying to apologise, nothing. Why had they said that? They hadn't meant to say something so hurtful, they hadn't meant it.

Sun remembers it all. Moon's expression, full of shock and.... Hurt. Before it was replaced by a facade of indifference. But Sun knew they'd gone too far. They hadn't meant to. They shouldn't have said that.

And.... The whole fiasco happened with Moon's malfunctioning.

After way too many lawsuits, Fazbear Entertainment finally decided to deal with fixing the Daycare Attendant. You'd think they'd try to fix them before that, but Fazbear Entertainment is just another greedy corporation :/

The Daycare Attendant was brought in, and after extensive reprogramming, the new versions of Sun and Moon were made. And we know these versions. Solar and Lunar.

Despite being reprogrammed, Solar and Lunar were still Sun and Moon deep down. Lunar remembers what they did as Moon. And Solar remembers what they said to Lunar as Sun.]

Heheh, angst. Isn't this just wonderful? For anyone who actually sees this- uh. FEEL FREE TO LEAVE YOUR OPINIONS ON THIS AND ANY IDEAS YOU HAVE I COULD USE. BASICALLY, FEEDBACK IS WELCOME :D

[tiredassmage]

23, 24, 25

I know I sat on these too long because I couldn't decide who to answer them for, so stealing a leaf out of JB's book and making the wheel of names pick, lmao.

both bc this is long and 24 discusses workplace safety violations (suggestive wink wonk), 24 & 25 under the cut.

[Uncommon OC Questions]

23. How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)? - Savosta

I think Savosta struggles with... most strong emotion, which maybe sounds a bit odd for a Sith, but his teachers primarily taught him to harness rage. And envy's an interesting one because he's not... particularly been in a position to envy much - not that there isn't things to envy, but rather more that the reality that such things are unachievable to him is usually stronger and the leading feeling.

So, something like envy would kind of make him Windows error noise internally. In a way, he envies Rhystyl's ability to rely on his friends - that he has people he can warmly think of as such. But in that particular instance, it's something Savosta's largely unfamiliar with, which makes him inquisitive. Savosta hasn't been able to really rely on someone since he was exiled from the Chiss Ascendancy around his early teens; he lost that when his family turned him out into the cold for his Force sensitivity and what the Chiss believe of such abilities. He doesn't entirely understand it, but he sees it as a strength in Rhyst - something he wants to emulate, so he first must learn how and why it is so important to the Jedi Knight.

Brushing with the Ascendancy several years later again during the Alliance era is maybe his other strongest occurence of something like envy - that their lives are still whole, that the notorious Chiss indifference to the larger galaxy so long as Chiss interests are protected remains intact all these years later, almost like nothing has changed. He does and doesn't resent being cast out; on one hand, it changes nothing to long for what he lost as a child. He'd barely recognize his family if he saw them again, he thinks, and they are rather unlikely to recognize him. He will not renounce what he is and he sure as hell will not grovel for the Ascendancy's approval. He... dislikes that they recognize his power now because it is more convenient to do so, because the Alliance is a power in the galaxy now that maybe offer something to them. But he doesn't know quite what to make of all these mixed emotions. He does not do more with Aristocra Saganu than is necessary to facilitate their roles as speakers for their respective parties. He does not recognize any such claims that he is "one of their own." There's no ire, only detachment when he says something along the lines of, "That is an honor you lost when you sent me away. I am no Chiss." Not as they are, at any rate.

24. Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom? - Theo

Cheating slightly with this one because Theo has probably the most fun answer to this, lol, and I don't talk about him nearly enough.

Theo will unabashedly discuss sex with just about anyone who shows the slightest interest in having a conversation. He'll trade you tips, discuss his experiences (no names, though - unless he's talking with his partners, of course), tell you his favorites, all over morning coffee, if you'd like. He's extremely comfortable with himself and what he's done and genuinely would wish others to also enjoy their own experiences, so if his helps, he is glad to offer the service.

Theo is also a notorious flirt in public with his partners because Carvallain likes to glare at him like he's the greatest nuisance in Vylbrand, but... if he wasn't genuinely into it, he'd make a more convincing argument to shut Theo up. >:3

25. What are their thoughts on marriage? - Lensan

Not exactly a priority for him; Len has always been a soldier and a warrior first. Particularly, he's against the idea of being "settled down" or "domestic," I think. He's stubborn and driven and would prefer to go out with a pair of blasters firing in his hands and - while he's smug and macho about it - that isn't exactly the kind of life Imperials tend to chase as marriage material. Len's against the traditional ceremony of it more than anything. Words on a paper or some overpriced jewels to settle on petite hands isn't going to cut it for him.

He's a lot of bluff and bluster, quite frankly. There's a place in his heart that could find some fondness for the idea of pledging such loyalty to someone to spend the rest of your lives fighting at each other's sides and trading lashes of witty tongues. Just don't expect him to throw a bunch of fanfare on the anniversary or whatever. He'll knock a guy's teeth out at the cantina for you in a heartbeat, but unless your family dinners discuss more kill counts than what figures do you bring home for the year, he's... probably not the kind of guy you wanna take home to your parents in the first place.

And still, I imagine it'd take some convincing him - from the right kind of person. Len is of the mind that actions speak louder. Why should you need any ceremony for it?

[shy-magpie]

RQG 167

So storm time? With Zolf in peril and everyone else trapped in a cell together because when we asked for them to be forced to actually talk a finger curled on Alex's monkey paw.

Bryn just advised them to go into full rebellion if Alex tries to slam cut them past bits they want to do but he had a definite laugh in his voice. Alex responded by implying he'd bribe them with swords and cool jackets. So I think this is run of the mill guy stuff rather than actual power games like the bowling alley ads. I mean if Alex was serious he has to know that slam cut to cyberpunk/anime future is nothing compared to slam cut to wings right?

Movie advert voices from the boys as they add on to Alex's "last time on RQG".

Will save, hm just general principle or is it to resist having their heads messed with by the storm?

Will Save, hm just general principle or is it to resist having their heads messed with by the storm?

The Cohort are rolled as one, but they do better than Skraak.

Ok the magic levels vary so they won't be stuck in the cell the whole time.

Azu sits next to Kiko, her little finger is on Kiko's in "an unspoken pinky swear everything is going to be okay". Alex really does know when to indulge us. The players take this as proof Alex is going to take Kiko away from Helen/Azu. Well yes after a fashion, we've known from the beginning she is probably going to side with Earhardt in the near inevitable mutany. Have to let Azu & Kiko properly bond for it to hurt properly when that doesn't change.

Aw Hamid checks in with Azu because he remembers her claustrophobia.

The sense motive isn't on Azu, but with only an 8 Alex doesn't tell us what it was.

Cel wants to improve the box, but can't find anything but busy work. Cel is mostly just going over it with a fine tooth comb for minor improvements.

Bryn wasn't entirely joking about them just taking control of the camera at the beginning of the episode apparently and circles back around to his check on Azu when Alex makes moving on noises. Azu appreciates it.

Zolf time. Big broad question from Alex: survival check or profession sailor for what style Zolf is steering the ship. Ben doesn't let him finish the question before saying he will stick with Sailor since it has the higher stat. He then gets 28 on his first roll and Alex accuses him of sounding smug; which the rest of the table protests. Yeah it was more pleased/satisfied than lets say "she can't one shot me I'll take the hit".

Weird energy from Alex & the players, not sure if its they are in a weird mood to face the storm or having the storm scene put them in a weird mood. Either way hope its not the podcast part pressuring them to go forward on a session they would have rescheduled in a regular game. A lot of Alex's suggestions from the sensitivity special were things like snack breaks that don't work in remote sessions. Whatever, I'm just a listener, I need to trust them to know when to call it and keep my analysis on the characters not the players.

Zolf has to sail straight through it. Not seeing any metaphors in "the best way out is through" (my phrasing not a quote) nope.

Huh the Ursa Major seem to have left their bodies on peaks to be as high as possible. Smart enough to be magic worshipers maybe?

Borealis makes light wobbly like a cartoon heat haze. The lines of color are tangible bits the ship can touch.

Zolf is nervous whistling and casts Resistance which lasts for a minute right as the ship touches it. Bryn reminds him that Hamid cast Heroism last session.

Zolf ties himself to the wheel as the Borealis effect of the world smearing like a water color and going back to normal only to do it again approaches.

The box makes a pleasant bell sound as the effect reaches them.

The effect happens to Zolf's body. The chiming sound can be heard coming from the

Hamid proposes "two truths & a lie" to pass time. He has to explain it to them.

Carter goes first

Hamid points out there are plenty of Egyptologists in Egypt when he tries to claim he is the best in the world.

Zolf feels powerful urge to sleep.

Wilde is back on form and when Hamid suggests he or Miek (I think, one of the Cohort?) go next he asks who defines the truth. Hard to tell the degree to which he actually doesn't get it vs is focusing on Hamid's actual goal by drawing attention and distracting everyone. This is painfully in old!Oscar's wheelhouse, but after that Earhardt sex joke I am not sure if he can keep up a line of patter without it blowing up somehow. People like him often mistake being able to smooth things over after they've crossed the line with a knack for not crossing it in the first place.

Yeah this is going to go well/sarcasm: his first statement is that he had genuine feelings for Bertie. Because we really need the party to process tonight that, even only knowing of him second hand, everyone has seen through him except Hamid. Alex better not bring Aziza into this.

Second point: Oscar was shy as a child to the point of wearing disguises.

Third point: He loves Harrison Campbell novels.

Well now I don't know which I want to be the lie: the second one is painful for a truth to trust them with; Hamid having his feelings about his friend being seduced and embarrassed in the paper being brought up might clear the air either way; if even Oscar likes the books Hamid might let go of his attitude about them but it might be better if he has someone who isn't an active fan. Just as there is nothing wrong in liking them, there is nothing wrong in not liking them as long as you aren't judgy about it and Hamid is pretty good about keeping his opinion of them to himself.

Alex has them roll a perception check. The Kobolds are asleep, if the storm encourages them to sleep through it rather than stress that is a gift horse I am looking right in the mouth.

Hamid asks Cel's help to draw a curtain around them out of respect for their taboo on people knowing where they sleep. Cel points out it would be safer to be able to see everyone. I am pleased Hamid suggested it, but have to side with Cel, its a good thought but they did fall asleep in plain view which was either a decision or proof we need to keep an eye out for things making decisions for them. Hamid yields quickly. Poor Cel sounds scared something will go wrong with the box.

Hamid goes back to the game. Wilde frowns and says they've been spending to much time together when Hamid says the lie was Oscar being shy as a child and that his genuine feelings for Bertie were negative. Which I believe means he loves Harrison Campbell novels.

Zolf is still having more problems with pressure to sleep and has a spell (owl's wisdom) to deal with it. Engines seem to be off but the ship is still moving: elementals asleep?

Barnes, Carter, and Earhardt fall asleep. Everyone else starts to notice they are feeling tired, Alex leaves it to the players if they notice its supernatural.

Ah Hamid "I guess people weren't enjoying the game very much". Ok if it wasn't supernatural then it would be a sign he kept stress down enough for them to fall asleep surrounded by people in a strange situation, that's a pretty good sign for morale.

Azu asks for his 2 truths and lie, only for Bryn to call the break. Alex sounds impressed and Bryn is laughing so yeah this is bonding rather than a proper rank fight. Hm could just be a "delegate damn it" thing since Alex does have a lot on his plate... No I'm doing it again, all I need to know is that it doesn't sound like an actual problem.

Hamid's statements:

Are interupted by Wilde pointing out he knows Hamid well, which hints at reciprocation for Hamid knowing him well enough to call his truths. Whether he means that friendly or is trying to get his own back after being seen through is hard to say. Hamid points out he did research before hiring the team and he volunteers to sit out if he knows.

1)never lived in Mainland Europe

2) Never visited Sub Saharan Africa

3)Never won an academic prize

Wilde sits out in favor of a nap. Hamid starts feeling very weary as Azu asks about his statements.

Ouch Azu thinks he was quite good at school & academic achievements. Hamid falls asleep as she speaks, dodging that discussion. I wonder if it would be better or worse if he got a prize after he made an effort in Prague before the incident. I don't think Azu would get weird on him about not being good in school itself but I can't remember how much she followed of his running with bullys.

Back to Zolf: Zolf realizes the ship is moving before he tells it too. Zolf tries to fight it mentally, and is able to over rule the ship by making minor changes to the course while it tries to keep to the true course.

In the box everyone except for Cel and Siggif are asleep. Azu and Kiko fell asleep in eachother's arms.

Cel is so distracted "fixing things" they didn't notice until now; Sigguf is muttering to himself and when Cel checks on him he says he has bad dreams. He has a heart breaking crossword he clearly keeps redoing.

Cel has figured out its unnatural and tries to wake them up, Sigguf follows their lead. No luck.

The ship has started to tack itself, and started to maintain itself. Which could go either way especially since half the reason he keeps most of the NPCs alive is that they are needed to run the ship.

A good ep, even if Alex did duck developing the Kobolds again.

[leam1983]

Hogwarts Legacy - Thoughts

I'll keep things succinct, seeing as a subset on here takes any discussion of this game in a justifiably personal manner. I'll skip the themes and head straight to the mechanics.

The combat system is surprisingly involved. It starts out basic as you'd please, with a Parry and a Basic Cast, but then you realize that shields can be color-coded, and that you're expected to more or less play Simon with your attack types, as well. What starts with you wiping your opponents without breaking a sweat ends with your frantically reading the screen and praying to God that nobody tosses in a spell of which you haven't prepped for their particular color. Add in the requisite Dodge mechanic and the occasional unblockable either on your side or theirs, and you end up with a system that feels a little too expansive for a comfortable mouse-and-keyboard experience.

On the audio-visual spectrum, I'm glad to see Avalanche didn't follow the same route as the old PlayStation releases for the Potterverse's movie tie-in games. The PS1 release for Philosopher's Stone involved such gems as Dan Radcliffe recording five or six different takes on the same basic spell shouts, so you'd spend the first hour hearing a little kid shrilly call for Flippendo! over and over and OVER AGAIN.

What we've got instead is general silence, punctuated by the occasional call for Accio, Stupefy or what have you. It makes a lot more sense than having to actually call out every spell consistently.

Lore-wise, one particular character professes a certain ease for wand-less casting. As a longtime Dresden Files fan, I've always liked to see takes on magic that don't involved a little spindly thing being waved around by someone pretending to be an orchestra conductor. You're wielding the Universe's primal forces, in a sense, so there's nothing more badass than needing a basic wave of the hand or a forward thrust to Get Shit Done. Here's hoping this features in the game later on at some point, as I'm barely past Hogsmeade.

Thematically, I get the sense that Ranrok's rebellion isn't properly anchored. The other goblins and house elves we see are well-treated and respected (minus the lack of official clothes for Dobby's kin), and I'm guessing that his own motivations are going to be left for an abuse-generated vector that'll crop up a few hours down the line. As it stands, Hogwarts feels nice and inclusive, which makes the idea of an armed insurrection a little hard to believe. Things could've gone better if Fig and our protagonist had been established as having discussed the state of, er, Goblin Affairs, as it were, sometime well before their departure.

There's the issue of our 'toon, too. Why are we special? How and when did we discover we were sensitive to magic? I would've loved to play out that particular moment, especially in the context of Victorian London. As it stands, we're just a fifteen year-old latecomer.

On the technical point of view, the game is like several modern releases in that it more or less requires an NVME SSD to really play comfortably. Every single door in Hogwarts is preceded by a seconds-long loading period, and some cinematics are clearly set in place to serve as model and texture-streaming aesthetic curtains, and the resulting effect isn't necessarily pleasing. Sarah's running the game on an i9 10900K with 32 GBs of RAM and an RTX 2080 Super, and her game more or less froze in the seconds leading up to Headmaster Black's introduction, as everything slowly and painfully left the realms of Placeholder Textures to bloom into view appropriately. It's buttery-smooth otherwise, but add camera changes to the experience and the engine clearly struggles in these interstitial moments. I've also noticed a few issues with culling, as some assets can blip out of sight just before that point where they'd normally leave your viewing angle. It's a little jarring to see an entire hair-length vertical slice of the castle effectively Apparate into being (heh) in some particularly packed corners of the premises. It's all terribly gorgeous, sure, but still not entirely optimized. Still, once it's loaded, it's loaded. It all works well, with no outstanding visual bugs.

More to add later, I'm sure.

[myriamas]

❂

perhaps it was the desperate urge to feel the corners of her mouth lift with something other than being forced to, the same half smile she offered to each noble that came to see her and see the presentation of their new princess, that resulted in the laugh that slipped from her lips at the sound of his accent. a regional accent, wrapped around a national language; it needed polishing, but it was there. how impossible she found it, needing to keep her expression so entirely blank; it were different than being a consort.

a consort was meant for lively happiness, for being the representation of femininity and the sun itself beside the ruling monarch. and now, everything that had once made her one of the strings that tied the court of sunspear together was no longer appropriate. "close. it needs to come from the back of the throat." she rested her hand upon her throat for a moment, flickering her gaze towards him as he approached her. he spoke of the sun rising again with hope, entirely missing the bitter tone she took to the notion. the idea that matters would never end. ever the optimist, it seems had joined to sit at her table.

"there are easier ways to torture you than make you hear my attempt, lord uller. believe me." there was a slight laugh slipping from her lips again, no doubt aided by the dornish red. usually she was a bubbly, lively personality when the drink settled in her veins - she felt different now. her laughs felt cruel. almost scathing, but at the world more than any other.

because the grieving period would not end once the shades of white were put away; they would end for everyone else but myriam, who was expected to continue playing the role of the grieving widow. she was only in her early thirties, and it felt as though the sun had set: the feelings came in ebbs of grief. of sadness. of sorrow. and then of anger. why was it a society she had served and continued to serve, in an attempt to appease everyone but herself, seemed to ready and willing to cast her short. extinguish the flame and leave her in nothing but darkness and smoke.

his question flamed something destructive at the very back of her mind, something that would no doubt result in her feeling utterly awful in the hours to come. perhaps he could do something, or multiple things, to make her feel better for an hour - there was a glint of something changing in her gaze. something dark. it were there, present, the way she looked at him. and then, as seamlessly as it came, it went; because again, things were not the same. she could not deal with things the same.

she did not want to deal with things the same.

"you can ensure that when the princess finds out the truth in the years to come, it will be accompanied with a name. that we can assure her that her court does not wish to assassinate her, and justice was done." she paused, looking toward the extended arm offered to her. her mind trailed back to the conversation she had with doran uller some time ago, following seeing her conversations with various nobles from other realms. he had been watching her. which meant they had been watching her.

"surely you want history to remember you well. that matters to most men. and your family." something about his sensitive nature reminded her of her own brother, dastan allyrion; forever desperate to ensure the family name was respected in his hands. to prove himself. "lord jordayne remains insistent that lord toland mistreated his sister...it is between a trial by combat, or a full scale conflict should the man refuse. which he may, considering lord jordayne's champion is the sword of the morning." she did not take his arm, but instead walked beside him, indicating toward her white skirts for a reason. the last thing she needed was the martells to be forced to hear rumours of her behaviour.

"you need try ensure it does not get to that level, and if conflict erupts, it remains concentrated." she knew little of house toland, and knew of house jordayne only through their close association with someone close to her. "what do you know of the tolands? who are their allies?"

there was a certain air surrounding his princess that made dante's chest tighten; what was that feeling that he never could relate to? grief? loss? it was only custom in the house of uller to show no remorse for their actions, for their protection but in that brief moment seeing myriam dressed in white and her kohl-lined eyes hiding her sadness did dante feel a pang of grief along with her. amaia always said that his warm heart was his weakness and that it would be his downfall, but dante couldn't help as his brows furrowed towards myriam in concern. good natured. an honest man. the lord of hellgate hall's stomach churned at those words, but showed nothing other than worry for the woman in front of him. this wasn't time for crumbling. this was time to show her what he was capable of as second minister.

when myriam began to speak about his lack of honesty with the people of dorne, dante felt his shoulders relax as he realized that his choices were for the best -- for the commonfolk. they had no need to know of the demise of their prince, lest there would be riots or people storming the palace to disturb the grieving process between myriam and her husband. "we will rise as the sun does, raajakumaaree." his accent was not matching his words that fell from his lips, though the sentiment was still all the same. the culture between dorne was vast and dante made it a point to learn as much as he could from all -- mostly pertaining to myriam's and leila's in order to communicate with them more. a small laugh left dante's chest but did not reach his eyes, which were dark -- worried. "i do apologize, i am still getting used to our positions. duly noted." the last thing he wanted was to upset the first minister and cause internal conflict from a disrespect he didn't have for baashir dayne, the sword of the morning who was more than capable of cutting him down limb by limb. dante felt warm in myriam's presence, the way her voice wrapped around every single word she spoke, even with the looming weight of their conversation. a heavy sigh followed behind his breathy laugh and all he could think of was stepping out of his role to comfort the princess but that was forbidden.

dante's internal battle between wanting to comfort the woman in front of him and the one who told him, almost yelling in the back of his mind to get it together, began a war that was hidden behind a soft, concerned smile. dante, even in his position of power, felt powerless against his own aching heart. a bleeding heart for dorne and his princess who seemed to drown her grief in wine, as any woman would in her position. now was not the time, nor would it ever be the time to show weakness or guilt. it was time he acted like an uller; a man who wielded more than anyone could ever dream. and so, the lord of hellgate hall's heart hardened over much to his protest and his dark eyes became lit by a fire -- fake flames to play his act. lowering his head to myriam so she could see the seriousness behind his stance. "the tor has not set ghost hill ablaze just yet, princesa, but i will make sure that we find the culprit to who murdered your husband and that they pay greatly for their crime. i will see to it myself." and his words rang with a false truth, though there was no hint that it was anything but real. dante knew what fate remained if myriam ever found out the truth, and it was up to dante to make sure that never happened no matter the cost.

"if i might speak out of turn," dante began, his voice husky and his hands still behind his back, dark eyes that reflected myriam's. "might i offer you anything to relieve your heartache?" a silky voice, soft and laced with consideration. a snake in the grass, one who was determined to prove to his family that he could be responsible with the task in front of him. "apane man ko shaant karane ke lie sair?" an offer of his arm accompanied with a warm smile, dante turned on his charm for myriam, ignoring every ache in his bones to be truthful with the woman who was wracked with grief. this all felt wrong, but dante would not be the weak link in the ullers. not again.

[tarisilmarwen]

I just love how... messy Rebellion Era Jedi are.

Half of them are traumatized survivors of Order 66, trying to cope with the near-total violent eradication of their home, their friends, and everything they ever knew, often in unhealthy ways.  (Cere cut herself off from the Force, Caleb changed his name, buried his identity, and turned to drinking, Cal suppressed his Force abilities so badly he had to relearn all of them.)  Most of them were children when the Order fell, far too young to have everything ripped away from them, half-trained and frightened and constantly on the run.  Running away from the pain, from the trauma, from who they are.  Moving from place to place, trying to find somewhere, some safe haven, some remnant left of the Jedi Order, someone they can trust, who still remembers the Jedi as they are and not who the Empire has decreed them to be.

The older ones didn’t escape the trauma either; they had spent their entire lives as Jedi and now suddenly everything was gone and everyone was dead and they could no longer practice their culture or beliefs for fear of discovery, they had to take everything they knew and go underground, hiding who they were and escaping to preserve what remnants of their Order remained.  (Jocasta desperately trying to save and protect the gathered knowledge in the Archives and libraries, Obi-Wan and Yoda forced into isolation and hermitage with nothing but the Force and their memories.)

Imagine the constant fear and paranoia they must have felt.  Can this person or this person be trusted?  If their secret is revealed, will they be ratted out?  Rejected?  Cast aside like vagrants or turned over to the Empire relentlessly hunting them down for crimes they didn’t commit?  After all if the clones could betray them—their closest friends and brothers-in-arms, that they fought alongside for years—if they could just turn on them within the blink of an eye, how could they be safe anywhere in the galaxy?  Imagine the poisonous lies they had to swallow, had to bite back rebuttals against, any time anyone talked shit about their Order, crowed about the glorious Empire and its Emperor, the man who had orchestrated the murder of their people.  Imagine knowing the truth, the horror and destruction, and not being able to speak about it.  Being utterly alone in a galaxy that was once filled with bright lights, lights that in a single horrible moment were snuffed out en masse, a tear in the Force so horrible it’s still reverberating years later.

And then there are the kids born after Order 66, who come into an openly hostile galaxy without any knowledge of the Force, who don’t even know what they are, who have no context for the strange things they just “know” and can do.  The ones that won’t have a supportive community of people like them to help them train and manage their abilities, who will never have that because Palpatine didn’t just wipe out the Jedi, he killed the Nightsisters, neutered the Guardians of the Whills, had the Lasat mass disintegrated, got rid of any other Force discipline besides his own, practically erased all knowledge and memory of them, to consolidate his power.  These kids won’t understand why they get weird feelings, why they’re so oddly lucky, why things move and shake around them when they’re emotional.  They haven’t been taught to be mindful, to be disciplined, to guard themselves against the whispers of the Dark Side.  They’re fidgety, inattentive, impatient, and full of anger.  (Ezra, Leia, Luke.)  The lucky ones can hide their abilities just long enough to escape notice.  The unlucky ones get captured and tortured and experimented on, harvested, turned and then sicced back on people just like them like rabid dogs.

And I live for it when the survivors and the new generation manage to come together, kindred souls drawn to each other by fate and the will of the Force.  Tiny flickering candles of Light finding each other again, gathering strength together, sparking hope wherever they are just by being who they are.  Stumbling awkwardly through half-remembered lessons, reconnecting with their pasts and gaining new futures.  Trying to survive together under a regime that is actively hunting them down and trying to kill them, for who they are, for what they are, for what they remember and know, for the threat they represent against Palpatine’s stranglehold on Force power.  Everything the children of the Force are taught puts them in more danger, everything the survivors manage to teach and pass on paints a bigger target on their backs.

But Jedi can’t not get involved.  The Force itself calls them back into the fight, calls them to inspire hope in the hopeless, to rise up and fight against evil, hold the Darkness back.  Calls them back to themselves, to take up the mantle of Jedi again and stand firm as the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy.  And when the Jedi come out of the shadows, rebels line up behind them, emboldened to take up arms.  The whole Alliance adopts the language of the Jedi (”May the Force be with you.”) and even when their champions fall or go missing they carry on, a movement started and led and encouraged by Jedi (Ahsoka as Fulcrum, Kanan and Ezra, Luke Skywalker) until they topple the Emperor and avenge the dead culture they pay honor to at last.  And young Force Sensitives and Jedi survivors can finally come out of hiding and be safe, rebuild what was lost, come home.

Just... Rebellion Era Jedi, man. 😭

[subspencer]

the to-do list

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is worried that she’s not adventurous enough in bed. So, she makes a secret checklist of things to try with Spencer. Based on this request.

Category: Smut, 18+ ONLY, minors dni

Warnings/Includes: switch!Spencer, (sort of?) corruption kink, exhibitionism, mile high club, brief description of oral, unprotected sex, creampie, brief mentions of other stuff but no descriptions

Word Count: 3k

Spencer’s girlfriend has a secret checklist. It could be called a bucket list, of some sort, but really all of the items on it pertain to sexual acts to perform with Spencer, on Spencer, or in front of Spencer. So checklist is a more appropriate term.

The list came into existence after a girl’s night game of Never Have I Ever, in which she discovered there was an embarrassing number of things she’d never done. Some of them seemed nearly impossible to have gone twenty-something years without doing, especially when in a committed relationship. That was made abundantly clear to her when the girls pointed it out, teasing her — and by association, Spencer — for being more than vanilla.

There was no real reason she hadn’t tried those certain things — she wasn’t adverse to the idea of most of them at all. Really, it was just that she never bothered to dip her toes beyond what was familiar.

When Emily, Penelope, and Tara had nearly all ten of their fingers down after a couple rounds, she finally realized she might’ve been coming up short in the sex department. She figured it was about time to find out what she’s missing, so she made a list of everything she needed to try. And one by one, she and Spencer checked the items off.

One of the more simple things on the list, and perhaps her favorite, was giving her first blowjob. It wasn’t something she felt compelled to try with any of the guys she’s been with before, and Spencer, though he was very curious about it, was too much of a gentleman to ask for one.

So when she asked him to sit on the edge of his bed and dropped to her knees in front of him, he didn’t stop to ask questions. His mind went blank the second her fingers undid his zipper. It was Spencer’s first, too, and his fingers knotted in her hair as she took him in as deep as she could, hollowing her cheeks around his cock and swirling her tongue as her head bobbed up and down. Spencer always made pretty sounds in bed, but in this instance she envied his memory because she wished she could replay his moans and gasps from that first blowjob all over again in her mind.

Another favorite was allowing the favor to be reciprocated until completion. She figured she might just be someone who couldn’t get off from oral, because though she always welcomed Spencer to go down, she got impatient every time and pulled his head up by his hair, demanding him to fuck her already. Spencer was one to oblige every request, but he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t overjoyed when one time she never stopped him short.

There were no interruptions, no hands shoving his face away from its rightful place against her, just increasing moans and shaking legs as Spencer was encouraged to give more. She can still remember the half-moon shapes his nails left on her thighs from where he had to grip them so tightly as she rode out her high. And she definitely remembers the almost feral look in his eyes after, because since that first time he insists on doing it again nearly every day.

There were more or less a dozen other items that slowly but surely got ticked off the list.

Handcuffs in the bedroom — fun, but perhaps better saved for special occasions. Or if Spencer was being extra good and deserved a treat.

Various new positions — a reminder to stretch more. And that sixty-nine is not as easy as it sounds on paper.

She let Spencer put a blindfold on her — it was decided they both prefer it more when the blindfold is on him. It keeps him guessing.

Spanking — both of them like this one, either giving or receiving. Surprisingly, she thinks she might like receiving it a little more, and Spencer is always excited to give.

Shower sex — a bit of a logistical nightmare, yet still a weekly staple. It’s slippery, yes, but it’s also relaxing and intimate. And Spencer just enjoys putting his hands on her wet, soapy body.

Sending dirty texts — great, but Spencer prefers taking nude polaroids of her instead. He keeps a few in his wallet for easy access. And because he knows Garcia can’t hack his wallet and find them.

And there were more items that went in the same tune until there was just one left. The one she was most nervous to attempt.

She wondered if joining the mile high club was better or worse if it was on the BAU jet. They’d have ample opportunities to do it, but they’d also be surrounded by their colleagues, and there is no coming back from getting caught.

But the main challenge was convincing Spencer to do it in the first place.

The initial plan of attack was to drop some “subtle” hints. She brought it up for the first time one night in their shared hotel room, right after Spencer fucked her against the bathroom counter, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“We could totally do that in the jet bathroom.”

“Yeah, I guess the basics are the same. Cramped space and a ledge to lean on.” Spencer was completely aloof as he picked up the scattered articles of clothing from the floor, rattling off about the size and dimensions of the airplane bathroom and missing the entire point of the comment.

She mentioned it again a little later, hoping the repetition may help him catch the drift.

“What’s the craziest place you’ve had sex?” she asked, completely catching him off guard as he ate a breakfast of frosted flakes in his kitchen.

“Um.. I don’t know? You tell me,” he shrugged, knowing that whatever the craziest place was, it was definitely with her.

“What about doing it on the jet?” It couldn’t get more obvious.

“We haven’t done that, silly. OH! I’m gonna say it was in my car,” he nodded with a wide grin, confident in his answer that unfortunately brushed past the proposition far too quickly.

It was time to change methods.

The new plan was to see if she could get him turned on enough on the jet to motivate him to do something about it right then and there. It seemed easy enough.

She sat next to him on the small couch, as she always did, and cuddled up to his side as he read his book.

Once everyone was distracted, she snaked a hand onto his thigh, allowing it to rest there long enough for Spencer to get over his initial shock and relax into her touch. As soon as he let his guard down, she moved her hand up another inch or two, watching him squirm again as he fought his mind from wandering. She repeated that cycle every five minutes until it drove him insane, his willpower diminishing in tandem with the proximity of her hand.

When everyone finally fell asleep, she craned her head to press small kisses on his neck, alternating between quick pecks and lingering ones, sucking warm and wet little flecks onto his skin that drew soft sighs without fail.

“What are you doing?” his breath was raspy and low as he muttered into her ear.

“Nothing.” She kept her tone innocent and sweet as she continued to sprinkle the teasing kisses across the column of his throat.

Her hand finally found its way directly on top of the bulge straining against his slacks and gave it a gentle squeeze. Spencer grinded himself into her palm, desperate to feel some friction, his jaw slacked and pupils wide. She dragged a thumb across his length, stopping to rub slow circles over the sensitive tip, drawing out a wet spot at the front of his trousers.

But even with his skin flushed red and his cock leaking and half-near orgasm, Spencer still found the restraint to stop her from jerking him off right on the jet and ripped her hand away, placing it in her lap as if the action could permanently force her to keep her hands to herself.

“I can’t go to the crime scene with cum in my pants,” he hissed, squeezing her wrist tighter.

She smirked at the opportunity, wrapping her warm lips around his ear lobe and tugging with her teeth before whispering with hot breath. “Then put it in me.”

For a second she saw him consider it. His eyes had a dark cast, gaze flickering between her eyes and lips as he swallowed the thick lump in his throat. But then Emily woke up and it was yet another failed attempt.

She resigned to the fact that it just wouldn’t happen, and that the item might remain unchecked on the secret list. So she cleared the idea from her mind, not wanting to keep pushing Spencer toward something he clearly didn’t have an interest in, or to keep embarrassing herself by trying.

And then a couple weeks later, as the team wrapped another case up, she came back to their hotel room to find Spencer sitting on the bed, facing away from the door.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted. When Spencer didn’t respond, she crawled onto the bed behind him, placing both hands on his shoulders and attacking the side of his face with kisses, giggling into his messy curls. “I said hey.”

Still nothing. Her eyes followed his line of sight down to his hands and went wide with realization.

“Spencer, where did you get that!?” She tried to snatch the crumpled piece of paper from him, but he was too quick to pull it away.

“I was looking for gum in your purse,” he explained, reading the sheet over again in complete amusement, “but I found something better.”

Spencer was much too excited about it, bordering on smug, and she rolled off the bed away from him in annoyance.

“Is this what I think it is?” She remained silent, suddenly feeling very insecure about the note. “Did you... did you make a list of things to do in bed?”

“You weren’t supposed to see that, it’s so stupid.”

“Hey, who said it’s stupid?” He tugged on her fingers, pulling her back onto the bed next to him. “I just wanna know where it came from.”

“Well... when I went out with the girls, we started talking about all the things we’ve done…” she paused to see if Spencer could guess where this was going, and of course he didn’t, “... in bed. And I hadn’t even done half of what they have, so I wrote some of them down. I — I wanted to try them with you.”

“So you… you’ve never done these with anyone else?” Spencer’s eyes widened as he pieced the puzzle together. He looked down again at the discarded sheet laying on pillows, his pride swelling at how long the list was. “I’m the first?”

She nodded in assent and no sooner was Spencer pushing her back flat against the mattress, settling his body on top of hers.

“God, that’s so hot,” he spoke into her neck as he sucked purple bruises into it, allowing his hands to roam freely under her shirt. His nimble fingers made quick work of her bra clasp, pulling the hem of the top up to attach his lips to her exposed nipple. He rolled the other in his fingers, tugging gently as she arched into his touch, rolling her hips up to grind against his. He groaned and pushed back, nestling himself perfectly between her legs.

Suddenly his motions halted and he popped his head up, looking at her with wide eyes and freshly ruffled hair. “We haven’t finished the list yet!”

“I — I didn’t think you were interested in the last one.”

“If my girlfriend makes a list of ways she wants to fuck me, I’m interested.”

A devilish grin took over her face. “Well, we fly home tomorrow.”

And true to the plan, they arrived on the jet the next day with at least a vague sense of strategy: wait until everyone is asleep then go at it in the bathroom. It wasn’t the most elaborate of plans, but there wasn’t much else to think of.

Except for the possibility that the others might not go to sleep.

The flight was already halfway through its journey and everyone was still wide awake, and Spencer was growing incredibly impatient. Perhaps even more than his girlfriend, now that he knew this would be part of a long list of things he got to be her first for.

That fact seemed to encourage him, the thrill of forever being her first at something. Never mind that she’d be his firsts, too.

Spencer’s not stupid, he knows that bending her over the bathroom counter while everyone is awake to hear it is a horrible idea. But his willpower doesn’t extend far enough to stop him from dropping his hand to her exposed knee, rubbing it softly just to be able to touch her. It seemed innocent enough in case anyone might see.

He kept his eyes on the open book he was pretending to read as his fingers traced the inside of her thigh, pushing up the hem of her skirt ever so slightly.

He inched his hand up and slowly spread his long fingers apart until they covered the length of her inner thigh. The tips stopping just below her cunt, delicately tracing lines back and forth parallel to the seam of her underwear.

And she quickly discovers there’s no taste worse than your own medicine. There was gentle brushes and concealed touches, all the things that she did to him. But where Spencer would’ve stopped her teasing before it got too far, she wouldn’t have done the same.

She covered up his hands by bringing her own down to her lap, silently encouraging him to continue unseen.

Spencer looked down at her through his thick lashes, bottom lip stuck between his teeth. Looking for more confirmation that she wanted this. The answer came in the form of her shifting subtly down the seat, pressing her clothed pussy firmly against his hand.

His cock twitched against the confines of his slacks when he felt the damp patch on the fabric. His knuckles brushed against her clit and her knees clamped shut, holding him in place as she brought her lips close to his ear to let him hear her soft whines.

He has to put his book over his lap to cover how hard he is, and it almost makes him regret starting this game. Almost.

Because just as she starts desperately grinding against his hand, squirming for more friction, he notices that everyone’s asleep. And then it’s a race to the bathroom, Spencer positioning her directly in front of him to cover his bulge as they stand up.

Their mouths are on each other before the door even closes, her hands wasting little time in going for his zipper. Both desperate to have each other after all the anticipation. She immediately perched herself on the countertop, spreading her legs wide so Spencer could fit in between them, just like in that hotel room. A confused whine fell from her mouth when he lifted her off from the ledge, interrupting her plan.

“No. Like this,” he growled, turning her around and pushing her hips against the edge of the counter, bending her over it. She muttered a “Fuck,” under her breath as he pressed his cock against her backside, knowing he preferred this angle because he could get deeper.

His lips trailed down her neck as he tugged the skirt up to her hips and pulled her panties to the side, running his cock along her folds to gather the wetness that had been pooling there.

“Shit, you’re so fucking wet.”

He quickly inserted his thumb into her mouth to stop any sounds from escaping before lining himself up. Her moans vibrated against the digit as he slowly pushed in, stretching her out and letting her adjust before starting to move. Slowly and deliberately, at first, then quickly gaining speed.

She pushed her hips back to meet his thrusts until he pinned them against the ledge with his own, holding them still so he could set his pace faster.

The hand that was resting on her waist came up to her chest, groping at the flesh over her blouse. Her spine arched into his palm, bending forward to give him more leverage to get deeper to that spot inside her repeatedly.

He alternated between a few quick thrusts followed by a deep one, holding himself there for a moment before repeating.

Her cunt tightened around him as he held still against her, applying firm pressure to her spot with the head of his cock.

“Fuck, do that again, please,” he grunted against her neck, pushing his hips into her ass with bruising force to get impossibly closer. A loud whine nearly escaped her lips as he did so, the motion sending her over the edge.

She sucked harder around his thumb, using it to keep her cries at bay as she reached her climax. Her walls fluttered around him as she did, giving him exactly what he needed.

“Remember what you said before, baby?” he hummed in her ear, “Do you still want me to cum inside you?”

“Please.”

Immediately his thrusts became erratic, hips snapping forward a handful of times before he spilled into her in hot spurts, biting down on her shoulder to stifle his moan as he came.

Still heaving from the comedown, he pulled her panties back on, using the fabric to keep his cum from spilling out.

She turned to feverishly attach her lips to his, panting into the open mouthed kiss. When they finally broke apart, both looked completely wrecked with swollen lips, flushed skin, bruised necks. Still, they tried their best to fix themselves, straightening out their rustled clothes and smoothing knotted hair.

Before Spencer turned the door handle, he pulled her side into him, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. “We should make another list.”

.

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[damiano-mylove]

Paintings and Peach Juice

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x afab!reader (I'm so sorry)

Wc: 1.5k

Cw(s): SMUT, swearing, oral (reader receiving), lowkey praise kink, but pretty vanilla (tell me if it sucks)

Summary: You, the reader, work on a painting during the night, but Ethan wants to bring you back to bed.

Masterlist

Paint stroked across the canvas in perfect placement with your brush. It laid onto the stretched canvas like the softest butter on the warmest toast. Every stroke, every colour, the portrait was only enhanced and made that much more beautiful by your talent. The smell of the oil paints filled the room, vented out by the window across from you; the scent only relaxed you further. Your thoughts roamed to the most peaceful crevasse of your mind while your hands seemed to know just what to do.

By the corner of your eye, you caught your reflection in the mirror in your living room. You had a paint smear on your cheek, and the messiest hairstyle you'd ever seen. But you looked happy. In the bright moonlight from the window, your eyes glistened with thought and concentration. You smiled to your reflection before continuing your painting.

In just a few days, Ethan would finally be allowed to see the painting. He'd promised he hadn't seen it, and you had to trust that he hadn't ruined his birthday present, that you've been working so hard on, for himself. While Ethan was milling about and awake, you'd had to cover the canvas in a cloth, but when he was gone or asleep, you sat right on your cushioned stool, legs crossed, totally ensconced by the artwork at your fingertips.

Just as you began touching up the whites of Ethan's eyes, on the portrait, you heard his soft footsteps against the hardwood floor of your flat. You quickly but carefully covered the painting with your cloth, that once was white but now appeared yellow with a streak of blue paint. Languid and nimble were your movements, just as Ethan rounded the corner into the living room, where you were.

His perfectly sculpted lips pulled into a smile, only revealing to you that he was still partially asleep. You grinned right back at the man without any clothing, save for his boxers. Your gorgeous swain padded toward you, then wrapped his strong arms around your middle. His lips, that were still slick with lip balm, met with the most tender part of your neck.

"Bed's cold without you," Ethan whispered in your ear. You sighed with a small smile, turning your head to capture Ethan's lips with your own very chastely. Within the kiss, Ethan began to smile before he spun your stool around to place his hands on your thighs.

Once the kiss broke, you sighed, "Five more minutes?"

"Amorino." His tone was the perfect bridge between authoritative and begging, only enhanced by him removing his hands. Sweetly, you pulled Ethan toward you with your legs. His warm, rough hand traveled up your leg as he came forward, only to rest on the underside of your thigh, that wrapped around his waist.

Gently, your fingers touched to his jaw. They danced just every so slightly as your hand began to rest, cupping his jaw, with your fingertips touching the roots of his illustrious hair.  Ethan's other hand pulled you infinitely closer, with his fingers gripping your waist as if you were the most expensive glass in the world; not hard enough to break you, but not soft enough to drop you.

In a steady yet slow movement, both of your leaned forward just enough till your lips came together, softer than The Creation of Adam. Your other leg hooked around his waist, to join the first, and Ethan picked you up with ease. He'd never had any trouble picking you up, even in a sleep coated state.

The kiss continued with a warm passion that translated between both of your souls, that you could feel from the pit of your stomach to the tip of your brain. Warmth from Ethan's skin was absorbed by your own skin, only forcing your heart to ache, along with the sweet watermelon taste from his lip balm that he applied every night before bed.

His footsteps were very sure and steady as Ethan brought you to the couch. The room got warmer, despite the cool Autumn air coming in through the window. Your hands wandered Ethan's exposed body in calm and known movements, while Ethan's hands squeezed handfuls of your thigh, leading to your ass. Lightly, your nails drew small patterns and pictures on Ethan's warm back, his muscles rippling beneath your touch.

"Dolcezza mia, I love you, I love you with my entire being," Ethan mumbled against your lips. You smiled like you'd never smiled before. Without a word, your lips wandered to the corner of his mouth, down to his jawline.

Your own lips peppered kisses that were wet and sloppy, but full of love, followed a vein on his neck. Ethan hummed above you, but his breath caught when, between your teeth, was Ethan's earlobe. You chuckled lowly, grazing your teeth gently across it. Ethan captured your lips again, the passion raw yet still demure. You broke the kiss to remove Ethan's t-shirt, that you were wearing.

"I love you even more," you responded.

With the revelation of the words leaving your lips, Ethan's ferocity was renewed. His lips pressed into yours with gracious meaning, leaving your heartbeat to multiply as he grinded himself into your heat that was clothed in just a pair of thin underwear. Ethan's tongue slipped by your lips, then perused your mouth. He tasted of peach juice and mint, which went extremely nicely.

Just as you were enjoying the taste of Ethan's tongue, his mouth left yours, opting to kiss and nip at other parts of your skin. In a hot and wet trail, Ethan's mouth began to trail down your body. His eyes looked to you for consent, to which you adamantly nodded, your breathing already heavy and hot.

In a steady yet serene movement, Ethan broke the hold your legs had on him to pull your underwear off of your form. For a second, before returning, your boyfriend took a moment just to admire you in your natural, beauteous state. His smile returned with his body on yours.

His face was level with your dripping, wet heat, as Ethan looked up at you with dark eyes, clouded with lust and extremely dilated pupils. You bit the corner of your lip just as he licked up your slit, catching your juices on his tongue, then enjoying your taste. You'd both been drinking peach juice earlier.

Then, without warning, the sweetness turned to pure sex. You let out a gasp as his tongue entered your folds, your hands tangling in the roots of Ethan's long hair. Still with his tongue circling inside of you, Ethan moaned at the sensation of you pulling against his hair, which sent vibrations through your core that seemed to reach even your fingertips.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Ethan," you groaned as his thumb found your clit. Ethan circled the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pad of his finger, until his tongue and fingers switched roles.

It became his tongue that circled your clit, and Ethan's long, rough finger that entered your tight hole. You let out a pleasurable moan, which was only encouragement for the man between your thighs.

"You're absolutely fucking amazing." Who the fuck knew if your words were even intelligible? How could they be when the most gorgeous human being on the planet was taking you with his mouth, right on your couch, in the middle of the night?

That familiar pressure in your stomach began to form. It was a nucleus of sensation, your orgasm just ready to burst. Ethan noticed your breathing become more ragged, only to add another finger but keep the same pace. You began to shake, ready for what was to come, as your body began to coat in sweat. Against your clit, Ethan could be felt smiling, just before he delivered the final blow.

His lips completely captured your clit, sucking on it gently.

Orgasm hit you like the train at the end of Anna Karenina. Your legs shook around Ethan's head, your walls pulsing around his fingers, and total bliss overtaking every single one of your senses. Ethan only chuckled, lapping up the juices you produced for him. That only increased your pleasure tenfold.

"You're so gorgeous when you're getting fucked," Ethan commented after kissing your clit. You smiled, looking at him with slightly blurred vision. He laughed before picking you up in a bridal style, letting you rest against him.

Ethan brought you to the bedroom, where he then brought you a clean pair of underwear and a washcloth. You then asked, "What about you?"

"Oh, Amorino, you don't even have to touch me to make me come," Ethan laughed as he cleaned you off. You cast your eyes to his boxers, where an incredibly wet patch was visible. You felt a bit bad, but nothing could bring you off of this high. Ethan cast the washcloth away, to be dealt with when the sun rose, before changing his boxers out for clean ones.

As you both got back into the bed, Ethan pulled you close to his chest, where his lips connected with your forehead. "I really do love you," you whispered.

"And I love you."

Sleep came in a swift wind, making your senses shut down each by each. Last to go was the sound of Ethan's heart, beating in a deep rhythm, and his breathing that tickled your hair ever so slightly.