#they are deeply weird about each they really are

[val-the-protoss-simp]

Yeah, so. The best way I can explain my thoughts on these ships (especially Artazun - Artanis/Vorazun) is using one of Avril Lavigne's most iconic songs:

He was a boy

She was a girl

Can I make it anymore obvious?

Like, I'm not trying to throw any shade at all, people can ship whatever they want. But I am yet to meet a person who ships these two that explains why they like them so much in a way that makes sense to me. Because sooner or later, their explanation boils down to "He's a guy and she's a gal so ofc they'd be into each other" as if a straight ship is some kind of default and if a story has a male main character and a female main character, they have to end up together. And I just don't see it. Them as friends? Sure, absolutely, imo they're great as friends, but not as a couple. Alarak and Artanis have way more chemistry with one another. Bit of a hot take but so does Rohana and Vorazun. But Artanis/Vorazun is about as interesting to me as watching paint dry is. It's like when you pick up a mediocre romance book where the girl character obviously ends up with the boy character because That's Just How Things Are no matter of they're good together or not. No thanks. Pass

Kerrinor is a bit more complicated in a sense that the game actively tries to convince you these two are really into each other. But if I had to sum up their vibes, I'd reach for Sk8tr Boy again. "He was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it anymore obvious?" I just don't get the romantic vibes at all off of these two. Raynor frequently comes off as an incel that gives the vibes of someone who'd insist they know better than you and just to listen to them because they know best, while also transforming into the biggest simp in the galaxy in SC2 as he pines over a woman that's obviously not into him.

And Kerrigan gives me the vibes of someone who really does wanna see more in this weird relationship, but more because she thinks having someone to love will make her feel whole and worthy of living rather than that she really wants this. Like, if shit didn't go south and she didn't get infected, I'm 100% that eventually she'd go "Yeah sorry lol this ain't gonna work." and break it off with Raynor. Like, I do think she cares deeply for Raynor, don't get me wrong, and at one point might have thought what she feels is romantic love, but eventually comes to a point where she realises that it's a sense of kinship rather than anything romantic. She loves him as a friend, that is all.

And funny enough, if you know more about his character, you know he had a wife and a son that he tragically lost. Knowing this information and how he's written, Raynor comes off to me as someone who's desperately looking for that kind of love again, albeit without realising, because the time he spent happy with his family was the happiest he ever was and his defeated, depressed ass desperately wants that again. So he seeks that shit and Kerrigan just happens to be there.

You can clearly see that he cares deeply about her, but his feelings of affection are misplaced to the point he doesn't want to see the kind of person she is and instead tries to morph her into the kind of woman HE wants. Which is not who Kerrigan is at all. Revenge is all she has left, no matter what it takes, and Raynor again and again tries to talk her out of it for his own personal wants when she makes it very very clear this isn't something she wants to do and that she cannot just let go of what Mengsk did to her and what that man's choices turned her into. And instead of trying to understand why someone he supposedly understands so deeply would want to kill the man who robbed her off of everything and turned her into a monster that killed billions, he gets butthurt when she doesn't wanna run off with him and live happily ever after. I love Raynor for many reasons, I think he's a well written character in a lot of aspects but this just. Ain't it. If the game treated this behaviour of his as a flaw, I'd dig it. But instead it tries to tell how boo boo poor Raynor is just so unfortunate to want a woman that doesn't want him, even when he ignores everything that's important to her. That's just not doing it for me, fam. I get that the game tries to ram it down my throat as the technically only canon ship it gives us in its five installments, but I can't get behind it. Kerrinor is a big fat no for me, let them just stay friends.

a ship where i see what people see but it is simply not very interesting to me personally it’s like

[sidestepsam]

hey this is so random but idk if yk the nakay girl on tiktok but she’s met the team a good amount of times and she just posting a video kinda saying she doesn’t really believe in pazzi.

what’s your opinion on that? she’s quite young so idk hahaha

This is a good opportunity to share my thoughts on this.

It is true that they do a lot of things that female best friends do with each other. They’ve also always called each other best friend, etc. so I can understand why a lot of people, especially if they’re not deeply into the lore, may truly think they’re just BFFs. That being said, there’s a very big difference between being unsure/not caring and being a denier. I don’t have an issue with people not being convinced they’re together, if anything I respect it because they’re just waiting for hard evidence. I do, however, have issues with deniers for multiple reasons:

1. It usually comes from a place of heteronormativity and or homophobia.

There’s a lot of people that see being straight as a must have in the mold of the perfect role model and I believe that is applied to Paige especially. Straight men also think this way but from a different perspective. Rather than being worried about them being role models, they’re in denial that P and A aren’t for them. Azzi also gets it because she’s conventionally feminine and a lot of ignorant people think that to be gay as a woman you have to be masculine.

2. It comes from a place of wanting to come of as morally above others.

This is what I think that chick is doing. I’ve never liked her, I think she has a weird parasocial situation going on to the point that she’s developed a weird sense of ownership. This girl knows them just as much as the rest of us do. She’s only met them in public, organized events that of course would not have any outwardly Pazzi situation happening. Literally two videos after that one she’s in literal tears over the game. Of course we all felt it, but to actually cry and film it? Be fr.

Lastly, and sorry if this is rude, but A LOT of these people are literal children. Even some of you on here I can tell are kids/teenagers. That age group knows nothing about reading romantic social cues especially when there’s gay undertones involved. They’ve also never been in relationships. It’s the same reason why they make entire love edits out of P & A looking at each other for 2 seconds and caption it as the most romantic thing they’ve ever seen.

All I’m going to say is that if P or A did exactly what they do with each other with a dude, absolutely no one would question that that dude was their bf. So in conclusion, we will see in 3 months (hopefully) who gets the last laugh 😭💀

[sapphicstoria]

This is going to be a long rant, but I feel more comfortable venting here than on twitter so.

I’m sorry, but I can’t stand a lot of Ch*rlastor fans. I seen one of them try to say it wouldn’t make sense for Chaggie to be endgame, because Charlie is bi and because she and Vaggie have been together for a long time. It made me so confused because how are either of those two things reasons why Charlie shouldn’t end the series with Vaggie? Her long term girlfriend that she’s in love with? And saying because she’s bi, it’d be weird for her to end dating a girl is so ????

It’s been established that Charlie is bisexual, that she’s attracted to men, and may even have had a boyfriend before dating Vaggie. They don’t have to show her dating a man, in the present, for her to be bisexual. And being bisexual doesn’t mean she has to be with a man, if she doesn’t want to. She loves Vaggie. She has never, and will never, be attracted to Alastor.

I’m tired of people constantly putting Chaggie down to praise their ship, when they could praise them without even bringing up chaggie or Vaggie. Saying she is a horrible girlfriend, that she’s not supportive enough, that she doesn’t care about Charlie. People even give Alastor Vaggie’s traits and say he “encourages” Charlie and cares about her dreams when he… does none of that. He uses her and only wants her for her powers. He doesn’t care about the hotel, and only helps because he wants to see it fail. He manipulates her and does not care about her like Vaggie does. It’s fine for fanon, but in canon he does nothing like that.

Vaggie cares so deeply for Charlie, because she is probably the first person who has ever shown Vaggie true kindness and love. They spent awhile being friends, but eventually dated and have such a strong relationship. They’re business partners, and best friends, along with being a couple. That’s one of the best types of relationships. Where you’re not just each other’s partner, but also best friend. Sure, they don’t have many too overly romantic scenes, but that’s just how their relationship is. They’ve been dating each other for years, and are adults. They probably went through their honeymoon phase, but now they’re so close that they don’t need to be overly romantic to show that they’re dating. Their scenes are perfect to show a close relationship.

But when they do have their big romantic scenes, they’re always the most beautifully animated. Like the scene of them first meeting. How Charlie didn’t even hesitate to help her, and when Vaggie finally seen there’s someone out there who does care. It was a touching moment for them.

I’ll never get over how beautiful their duet is. Not only the song, or context, but how it was animated. Their smiles, the way Vaggie was the one to sing first, when she is isn’t really a fan of singing but she knows how much Charlie loves it. The KISS. It was a perfect song, to show just how deep their feelings are for each other. And it made me bawl, when I realized it was a reprise of more than anything. Showing that Lucifer and Vaggie are the people Charlie loves more than anything.

I don’t see why people are judging them so quickly, when we’ve only seen eight episodes that were filled more with action and story than anything romantic. We’re getting more of their story in season two, even a look into their ~sexy lives~, and probably even more individual scenes of Charlie and Vaggie for their character. You don’t have to like them, but it really annoys me when I see people putting them down just to praise a mlw ship. :/ again, you can praise your ship, without having to attack Chaggie. And if you’re not able to do that, and can only bring up the positives of Ch*rlastor by picking apart chaggie as a couple, then maybe your ship just isn’t that great. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[what-gs-watching]

"You can be beautiful or you can be ugly, but you can’t be plain."

Soooo I’m pretty sure I died over Christmas; my entire family got a stomach bug that was the worst thing I’ve ever experienced, and now I have a head cold and I’ve lost my voice and I’m convinced this is some weird limbo and I’ll never be healthy again.

BUT! Before all of that, my dad and I got to indulge in our favorite holiday tradition: going to the movies. He and I have been sneaking off in the afternoon once everyone falls into a Christmas coma to see something for like, fifteen years. That man hates holidays because my mom goes insane trying to make them perfect and he just wants to escape and I appreciate that he allows me to go with him. 

This year, I was especially excited - the first time I saw the trailer for A Complete Unknown in September, I called him immediately screaming about it. Bob Dylan’s music was a huge part of my childhood, another thing that my stoic father shared with me, and could not wait to see it with him. Honestly, I’d been vibrating out of my skin about it, shrieking at the tv every time the commercial would come on.

Gang. It was so worth it. What a beautiful fucking movie.

Wherein, 19 year old Bob Dylan (Timothee Chalamet) heads to New York City in 1961, befriends Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger (Ed Norton), breaks into the folk scene, falls in love, has insane on and off stage chemistry with Joan Baez, writes songs that define a generation, puts the Newport Folk Festival on the damn map, learns he doesn’t really love fame, and then eventually goes electric. 

I do realize this movie isn’t going to be for everyone - it’s specific. Like, were you alive then and you’re wanting to relive that time and the way Dylan’s music made you feel? Perfect, you’ll dig it. Or, are you a super weirdo like me that WISHES you were alive during that time and just deeply loves the 60’s aesthetic and longs for what you think was a simpler era but it really was not, and you just want to romanticize the whole thing and feel wistful about it? Amazing, get your ass to the theater. 

One thing I appreciated about this movie was that it wasn’t really shoving anything down your throat, what was happening wasn’t overly explained, there were no ridiculous voice-overs or forced understanding, and honestly, Dylan was fairly mysterious. It didn’t feel like it was from his point of view, you’re not going to come out of this feeling like you finally GET him. He’s still this weird mythical genius, just doing what he’s driven to do. He never explains himself and he never wants to. So is this really a biopic? Or are we just seeing a snapshot in time, take it or leave it? I don’t think it matters; it’s wonderful, either way.

Also, like, DAMN, Chalamet. He was fucking incredible. Dylan is a hard guy to portray, he’s always been kind of aloof, withdrawn, he’s never seemed like this larger than life personality and to pull off that demeanor in a way that’s still endearing to the audience is NOT easy. He really encapsulated Dylan’s confusing charm, it was pitch perfect. And I had to laugh to myself a bit - last year’s Christmas movie was Wonka, also starring Chalamet. What a hilarious dichotomy from one year to the next. 

I’m going to be watching all of the award shows just for this. Give this dude all the flowers. 

As much of a fan of his music as I am, I never did a deep google dive on him and so I really enjoyed seeing his relationship with Joan Baez unfold. The scenes of them performing together were honestly beautiful, their voices blending and complimenting each other. Her song “Diamonds and Rust” unsurprisingly was also a large part of my musical upbringing and to learn she’d written it about their relationship - fuck. I listened to it again after we left the theater and it was devastating in an entirely new way.

Here’s the thing. I absolutely cried big fat tears a few times sitting there. It’s not a sad movie in any way, shape or form. But when he performs “The Times They Are A-Changin’” at the festival, just him and his guitar and his harmonica, and the crowd starts singing along with him, having never heard it before, I sobbed, smiling. 

When I was a senior in high school, my dad - who notoriously never put effort into gifts for us kids, relying on my mom to know what to buy - sat down and  made me a bunch of mix CDs of the songs he’d always been sharing with me. One of them was his 12 essential Bob Dylan tracks. The rest of that year, I lived in those tracks. The agenda pad I used for that school year was littered with Dylan lyrics, it’s my basement even now, “don’t criticize what you can’t understand” scrawled all over it.

So I was 17 again, sitting there, or 8 or 21 or any of the ages I’ve been where Dylan has kept me company. “It Ain’t Me Babe” is deeply ingrained in my mind as part of the dumpster fire that was the relationship I had with the first boy I ever fell truly in love with, and watching his long-time girlfriend Sylvie (Elle Fanning) witness him singing that with Joan Baez was like a punch to the gut. 

I’m not 100% sure what I’m driving at with all of this, but what I can tell you is: A Complete Unknown is beautiful. If you have any connection to Dylan’s music, it’ll light your soul on fire. If you don’t, it’ll still immerse you in a time or place you really should visit. It’s fascinating and visceral and glimmering, and it just might change you, a little bit.

HOW does it FEEL?

[stansthemans]

Would you ever write Ford giving fem!Stan oral sex as teens? I’m just dying to see Ford be a munch

So originally my idea for this was “hey lets practice on each other for no ulterior motives lol i don’t jerk it to this nightly” but then i was like “hmmm feelings plus a light splash of ford being a creepy peeper” so enjoy!!!

She’s got the entire house to herself. It’s an almost impossible occurrence. Ma comes and goes, running the appropriate errands to keep the household going or catching lunch or card games with her girlfriends, but Pa is almost always set up down in the shop. Few things sour his mood like even the vague prospect of missing out on a sale.

But today, her parents are out of town, up in the city visiting Shermie and his wife. That alone affords Stan a world of freedom, but Ford is also out for the afternoon. Something about some nerd lecture at the civic center. Stan could go out and do something too. She could hit the beach, meet up with friends at the pier. She’s got some pocket change. She could catch a movie. She could watch tv, bake a cake, head to the gym to practice at the bag.

Or she could take advantage of an empty house and get in a few rounds of orgasms.

Yeah, orgasms sound good. Those sound really good. On a usual day, touching herself goes one of two ways. Either she has to make quick work of herself in the shower, because God help her if she’s in there too long wasting water, or she has to do the infinitely riskier move of waiting until late, late at night, when she’s sure her brother is deeply asleep in the bunk above her.

And that’s always agony, because invariably, her thoughts always turn to Ford, to imagining that her fingers are longer, thicker, one more in number than they actually are, and as she imagines that her hands running over her body are actually her brother’s—her brother who is right there, so close—as that pleasure builds and builds, it takes everything in her to stay still enough, silent enough, that she doesn’t wake him and expose her secret.

Fingering herself is usually not as fulfilling an experience as she wishes it was, but today, the house all to herself, Stan can indulge, and indulge she does. She closes the curtains against the harsh afternoon sun and leaves the bedroom door open just a crack. She has the house to herself, but it would be a good idea to leave herself the opportunity to hear any potential noises. Stan pulls the comforter of her bed completely off and arranges her pillows and sheets into a nice little nest. She wiggles out of her shorts and panties and then heads for Ford’s side of their shared closet.

This is maybe a little weird, but she just wants a little bit to get her going. After all, she’s not fooling herself in any way to think she won’t be imagining Ford the entire time. Ford’s side of the closet is, of course, neater than hers, his shirts and sweaters all hanging up perfectly and organized by sleeve length and color. Stan sticks her face directly into the red section and inhales deeply. Ford is, without question, a teenage boy, and he smells like it, sweaty and funky and never really using enough soap or deodorant to cover it. However, he also wears cologne, and unlike nearly every other boy that Stan knows, Ford actually has an idea of how much is too much, and he never crosses that line. The juxtaposition between the natural and artificial scents that make up her brother is more than enough to make Stan dizzy.

A few more deep breaths, and Stan is ready, warmth settling low in her stomach. She flops onto her bunk and pushes her shirt up and over her breasts. She gives attention to her nipples first. This is the easiest part to imagine that it’s Ford touching her. After all, six fingers aren’t required to pinch and flick and tease here. She’s very sensitive here, and it’s only a brief moment before she can feel the slickness gathering between her legs. On a normal day, she would get to it, would shove two fingers immediately into herself and get to work, but she’s got time to be slow, to explore, and when she does finally spread her legs wide, when she does finally slide her hand down her stomach, down to her core, she’s a little taken aback by just how wet she actually is.

Stan shudders as she drags two fingers slowly around her clit, down through the folds, and back up again. Take it slow, she reminds herself. She’s not in a rush. She can enjoy working the outside for a little bit before moving in. She holds her breast in her other hand, can feel her heartbeat picking up in time with her heavy breaths. She imagines that it’s Ford’s hand. His hands are so big. He would be so easily able to cup the entirety of her breast in his palm, massage into the soft, yielding skin with his strong fingers, his thumb kneading into the hard nub of her nipple.

Stan pinches herself just as she slides her fingers over her clit. She lets out a gasping whimper at the sensation, a noise that sounds deafening in the otherwise silent room. For a moment, she freezes, and then the situation catches up to her again. She’s alone. There isn’t anyone else in the house, won’t be for hours. That’s part of this entire thing. She can not only take her time, but she can actually make noise.

Stan presses down harder on her clit and lets herself indulge in a louder moan. Some part of her thinks that maybe it’s a bit ridiculous, but it also feels good. So she does it again. She does it again and again until she’s ready to do something that she knows is going to rewrite her entire brain.

Stan stuffs two fingers deep into her pussy and moans her brother’s name. She doesn’t stop this time. It feels too incredible. She hikes up a leg and pumps her fingers wildly. She whines needfully, “Ford! Oh God, Ford!” She adds another finger and then another. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. “Ford, oh, more. I want—Sixer, more, please, please!”

Stan begs a phantom for something she knows she can never have, something she isn’t supposed to want, but God, does she want. She grinds her hips up into her palm, wishing it was his. Wishing for Ford’s hand, his mouth, his cock. Wishing that he wanted her like she wants him.

She’s so close. “Sixer, fuck, oh fuck! Fuck me! Please! Ford!” And she comes hard, panting her brother’s name over and over as she strokes herself through it.

She keeps her fingers inside as she comes down, feeling her pussy clenching around them. She lets her leg drop back down to the sheets, bringing that hand back to her chest, lightly teasing at her nipples again. She imagines her brother again, his warm presence enveloping her, skin to skin. “Hmm,” she hums in contentment. “Sixer.”

“Stanley?”

Stan’s blood turns to ice in her veins, and the entire beautiful fantasy is shattered. Her eyes fly open and land on her brother—the flesh and blood of him—standing at the foot of her bed, his eyes blown wide as he gapes down at the disgusting display of perversion she presents.

Stan stares up at him, incapable of moving, of breathing, of anything other than a slowly encroaching panic. How much of that did he hear? How much did he see? All of it or even just a second. It doesn’t matter. There is no way that she can spin this into anything other than what it was, and so now he knows. He knows that she doesn’t look at him with anything close to innocent eyes, that she sees him and she wants him in this sick way. He knows, and he’s going to hate her.

“Stanley,” Ford says again, and Stan braces herself for everything that will follow. It’s going to kill her, but she deserves it. She deserves everything he says.

But Ford doesn’t say anything else. His eyes bore into her, roaming up and down, and then, suddenly, he’s in the bed too, his big hands dropping gently—so gently it makes her tremble—over her knees. Slowly, he pushes her legs apart, opening her up again. One hand stays curled over her thigh, and the other encircles the wrist of the hand she still has not taken away from her pussy.

Ford’s thumb presses down on her two middle fingers, applying pressure to the sensitive area. Stan can’t help but gasp. “Stanley,” Ford says a third time, drawing her hand away and exposing her to the intensity of his unblinking gaze. “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

“I—I—“ Her throat and mouth are desert dry, and she still can’t breathe.

Ford’s hands move in a burning trail down her thighs, coming closer and closer. “You were saying my name,” he says. “Moaning it.” His thumbs rest over her labia and pull gently, opening up her hole. “Do you do that often?”

Stan whimpers, her head spinning. What is going on? Why isn’t he yelling at her?

“I asked you a question, Stanley,” Ford says. “Do you think of me when you finger yourself?” And then his thumbs move up and slide over either side of her clit.

Stan moans loudly at the jolt of pleasure that shoots up her spine. “Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, I—oh God, Sixer!”

Ford’s thumbs keep moving. “How often,” he asks.

“Every time,” Stan confesses, her hands curling into her sheets.

“You want this,” he says, his voice low and gruff. He shifts his hand, and a finger slides inside her.

Stan keens, her back arching up. She moves her hips, seeking more from him. “Need it,” she cries.

Ford pumps his finger in and out. “God, Stanley,” he says, and his voice is only full of awe. “You’re so wet.”

“For you,” Stan promises him. “Just for you. Sixer, I—please!”

“Amazing,” Ford says. “You’re so—I want to make you come again. I want you to scream again. What do I do?”

“I—what?” Stan reels. She’s too dizzy to think.

Ford leans over her, filling up her entire world with just him. His eyes are wild, pupils blown wide. “I want you to come, screaming my name again,” he says. “I want to make that happen. How do I make you feel good?”

Stan’s brain is complete mush, and she doesn’t really think before blurting, “You could eat me out?”

Ford’s eyes flash and narrow. “Has anyone ever done that to you before,” he asks, his jaw tight.

“N-no,” Stan stammers. “I’ve—uh—I’ve never done anything with anybody.”

“Good,” Ford says, growls. “Good. It will only ever be me.” And then he surges forward and kisses her. Stan moans, opening her mouth for his tongue. She wraps her arms around his neck and clings to him. “You’re mine,” he says against her lips, possessive and desperate. “Tell me.”

“Only yours,” Stan promises. “I’ve never wanted anything else.”

He kisses her again, and this time it’s achingly gentle, so perfect that it finally eases the last of the tension from her body, and Stan relaxes fully into her brother’s hold, surrenders completely. She’s his. He wants her to be his.

For a long moment, it’s just that, just arms around each other, lips moving gently together. Then Ford pulls back, only enough to press his forehead to hers. “I—um—I’ve obviously never done anything before either,” he says, nerves creeping into his voice. “You have to tell me. I want you to feel good.”

Stan holds his face in her hands and says, “It’s you, so it’s going to.”

“No,” Ford says insistently. “No, I want you to feel—I want this to be so good for you, Stanley. Just tell me what to do.”

And he looks so serious and earnest that Stan can’t do anything but agree. “Ok,” she says. “For starters, you should take off your shirt at least.” She tugs at the sleeve of his dorky little button up. “Maybe pants too.” While Ford does that, Stan remembers that she’s still got her t-shirt on too. She slips out of it, and Ford freezes above her. “What?”

“You’re naked,” Ford says simply.

And Stan can’t help it. The laughter bubbles up out of her in a snort, and then she’s giggling uncontrollably. For a moment, Ford puffs his cheeks at her in a ridiculous pout—made all the more ridiculous by his ruffled hair and lopsided glasses—but then he laughs too. “Really, Poindexter,” Stan asks.

“All right,” Ford says.

“It’s just—you were fingering me a minute ago,” Stan says.

“Ok,” Ford says, exasperation creeping into his voice.

“You watched me get myself off and you definitely could have darted out of the situation the second you realized what was going on,” she continues.

“I concede to the first point but disagree with the second,” Ford says. He reaches out, trailing his fingers from her cheek to her lips, down between her breasts and over her stomach. He stops just above the patch of hair between her legs. “Not a chance in hell could I turn away from this. I’ve wanted you for so long, Stanley.”

“We—we’re nuts, huh,” Stan asks, trembling a bit.

“I don’t care,” he says.

Ford finishes kicking off his pants and then settles himself between her legs, draping them over his shoulders. He rubs his hands soothingly over her shaking thighs and says, “Ok, begin lesson.”

“Nerd,” Stan says automatically. Ford doesn’t retort in the way he usually would. He just keeps staring at her, his fingers moving in the same slow, soothing trails over her skin. Stan isn’t really sure if it’s making her more or less nervous. Her stomach is definitely doing crazy flips almost like it wants to bring up everything she’s eaten today because her brother—her twin brother—is lying with his face between her legs, and she isn’t wearing any clothes, and he saw her fingering herself, heard her moaning his name and—

“Stanley,” Ford’s gentle voice cuts through her panic. His hands aren’t moving anymore. Still on her legs, his fingers are holding tighter, almost digging into her, not enough to bruise, but God, wouldn’t that be something. His eyes—they have exactly the same eyes—are locked directly onto hers, even as he turns his head slightly and places a feather light kiss on the inside of her thigh. “It’s ok,” he says. “We don’t—we don’t have to do this if you—“

“No,” Stan cries. “No, I want—“ She reaches for him, and he releases one of her legs to intertwine their fingers. She doesn’t know how to tell him just how much she wants. “I just—“ She pulls in several deep breaths, squeezing Ford’s fingers. He squeezes back, and it helps to ground her.

“I want you too,” he says. “Just tell me what to do.”

He doesn’t let go of her hand. Stan lets out her last deep breath slowly and says, “Ok. Ok, so I’m still—I’m still kind of wet.”

Ford’s eyes flicker down to her pussy, and he nods. “Yes, you are.” Stan’s stomach flips again. His voice is definitely lower than it was even a second ago, and it’s not any kind of weird act.

“That’s—um—that’s a dig deal,” she says. “Being wet. Because, like, if you just attack the thing, that’s not good.”

“Noted,” Ford says. “What’s the best way to do that?”

She has no idea because this is entirely new territory, but Ford clearly isn’t going to let her just lie here. He’s not going to stop asking until she gives him an actual answer. “Ok, so you—you know the parts, right? Like if I say clit you know what I’m talking about?”

“Yes, I’ve seen diagrams,” Ford says, and Stan lets out another semi-hysterical laugh. Oh boy. It’s going to be like that, huh.

“Ok.” She needs to stop saying ok so much. “Ok, so don’t go right for the clit. Or—or if you do, start slow and not too much pressure. But the folds—that’s—“ She needs to just make a decision, something concrete. “Use your tongue. Like—like you’re licking ice cream off a spoon.”

Stan expects Ford to turn his entire focus down to her pussy, but he doesn’t take his eyes off her face, and that, coupled with his tongue licking a slow, fat stripe up her cunt, lights every single nerve in her body on fire. She jolts, and Ford holds onto her tighter, fingers still wrapped around her, and his other hand sliding to her hip. He licks again, just as slow, and Stan whimpers.

When Ford squeezes her fingers again, she knows he’s looking for his next instruction. “You can—oh—you use the tip of your tongue too. Get—yes—get in there, kind of—kind of trace it?”

He starts with the outer lips, and when his tongue dips between the folds, Stan whines. She actually whines, and that should be embarrassing, but it just feels too good. Ford explores every inch of her, his hand wide over her lower stomach, keeping her from bucking up into his face. He traces over the opening of her hole, but he doesn’t go in, and she wants him in.

“Inside,” she gasps. “Put your tongue inside.” He immediately follows her instruction, and Stan cries, “Oh my God!” Ford’s fingers tighten around hers, and he pushes in deeper. She’s just about to tell him to try curling it when he takes the initiative on his own. “Fuck, oh fuck!” Stan grabs at the sheets, curling them tight enough in her fist that it’s a wonder they don’t rip.

“All of it,” she pants. “Sixer, Sixer, do them all!”

Ford pulls his tongue from inside her and begins to alternate between flat, slow licks to dipping between her folds. Occasionally, he dives inside her again, pulling out after she moans his name. It feels like he’s making out with her pussy. It’s torture, and it feels so fucking good. “Sixer, please, please, I want more!”

He doesn’t exactly pull off her, but he moves back just enough to say, “You’re so wet, Stanley. God, it’s—you taste amazing.” She whines again. “Are you wet enough yet? Can I—can I lick your clit now?”

“Yeah,” she pants. “But first—put your fingers in me again.” She arches as he slides one long finger into her hole. “Another.” A second joins it, and Stan moans. “One more.” For a moment, she has to just lie there, marveling at the feeling of Ford’s fingers filling her up. It’s better. It’s so much better than when she does it. She knew it would be.

“God,” Ford breathes. “Stanley, you—“

“Slow,” she says. “In and out, but go slow.” He never fully leaves her, drawing his fingers out to nearly the tips before pushing back in again. Slow but as deep as he can go. His breath comes out in hot pants against her cunt. “Ok, ok, you can—oh God—kiss it or—or lick—my clit—“

His lips close over it, her entire body feels like it’s on fire. She can’t stand it. “Ford, Ford!” She pulls her fingers away from his, and he growls against her, which—holy shit. “Wait, I just—“ She grabs for his three middle fingers, the ones that on his other hand are thrusting in and out of her. “Curl them, like this, and then—shit, shit—make them walk like—“ She uses hers over his, shows him what to do, and then he mimics the movement as he presses the flat of his tongue against her clit.

Stan screams. “Fuck, oh fuck, Sixer! That’s—more, please, more!” His tongue swirls over and around her clit, and his fingers dance inside her, and Stan pulls his hand up to grab at her breast. He finds her nipple and pinches, and Stan grinds her pussy against his face.

She can hear herself making noises that don’t sound entirely human. Amidst it all, she begs. “Stanford, please, please, I’m so close! Fuck, fuck! It’s—“

“Do it, Stanley,” Ford demands. “Come for me.”

His lips close over her clit again, and this time he sucks on it, and Stan’s entire vision whites out. Never in her life has anything felt so good. The pleasure rolls over her in waves, and Ford never stops licking her, and she can’t stop moaning his name. Her entire body is shaking, every movement of Ford’s tongue another jolt of lightning down her spine. His fingers swirl inside her, and he groans her name against her pussy, and it’s too much. Stan feels like she’s going to shake completely apart.

Somehow, her trembling hand finds his head, and she pushes weakly at him. Ford’s eyes meet hers, and his pupils are blown so wide they’re almost completely black. The sight of him there, between her shaking thighs, staring at her like that, is too overwhelming.

She doesn’t feel the tears falling down her cheeks until Ford pushes up onto his forearms, his entire expression changing as he says in alarm, “Stanley? Stanley, are you ok?”

She isn’t. She isn’t. She needs him to—

Ford starts to sit up, starts to move away, and that’s the opposite of what she needs. Stan reaches for him, and Ford immediately comes closer again. She grabs him, yanks until he crawls over her, and Stan finds his face and pulls him into a kiss.

She completely forgets that he’s just been eating her out, that his face is soaked with the mess of her arousal, that she’ll taste herself on his tongue. None of that matters. She just needs to kiss him.

She falls back onto the mattress, and Ford goes with her. His kiss pushes the air back into her lungs. The weight of his body spread over her keeps her from flying away. His hands on her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks, reminds her that she’s whole, she isn’t broken or shattered.

“Stanley,” Ford says against her lips. “Stanley, love, please, are you—“

Love.

Stan kisses him harder, kisses him until it feels like her lungs are about to explode in a good way. Then, finally, she can pull back and look at him and marvel at how beautiful he is.

“Stanley.” A quick peck of his lips to hers again. “Did I—did I hurt you?”

Stan shakes her head. Opposite. Complete and total opposite. “Brain’s oatmeal,” she says, although really it’s more of a slur.

Ford’s brows shoot up over the rim of his glasses. “I’m sorry, it’s—“

“Oatmeal. Melted.”

“Your brain is melted oatmeal,” Ford repeats, and then the worry finally washes from his expression and he starts to laugh. Stan tries to pout up at him, but soon she’s laughing too.

“You’re so mean,” she says, grinning. “This is your fault. All your fault that my neutrons aren’t firing right.”

“Neurons,” Ford corrects.

“Whatever, dork,” Stan grumbles.

“If your neutrons were firing, we would be dealing with a much more dire situation,” Ford says. Stan rolls her eyes. “So,” Ford says, settling himself over her, hands petting at her hair.

“So what?”

“So it was worth it to follow my suggestion and have you give me verbal instruction the entire time, wasn’t it,” Ford says.

“Sweet Moses, are you I-Told-You-So-ing me right now,” Stan complains.

“Yes,” Ford says plainly.

“You deserve to be Wet Willied,” Stan declares, “but I’m still working on getting feeling back in my arms, so you’re off the hook for now.”

“And your generous forgiveness has nothing to do with the apparently mind melting orgasm I just gave you,” Ford asks with an arched brow.

“You’re gonna eat those words just as soon as my bones resolidify,” Stan promises. “I will have my revenge.”

Ford leans down and kisses her, slow and deep and punctuated with a rolls of his hips. “Looking forward to it.”

[vorecommunitywoes]

Okay, I don’t want this placed on my own blog as I’ve disowned the whole vore community, but as I was a major voice in my teens I really NEED people to hear me when I say this community is not safe for kids and why.

I was Bioluminescent-Bat. I was the coiner of the tag “extreme cuddling.” I do not think people understand what horrible things they’re getting into, so I’m sharing my story here as a cautionary tale.

I was 15 when I was a big name in the community. I left Tumblr’s when I was 18; the overarching community at 21. I was drawn into the community due to my interest in biology & wildlife science; I’d been pretty consistently writing these tropes for most of my life as a mechanism for exploring mutualistic relationships with species. My involvement, however, started on Deviantart at 13. People over there convinced me that this interest was/had to be vore vs just a STEM/character design interest, and that they kept theirs like a “dirty secret” / not to talk about it with others. I was encouraged to write the subject matter into my works up to almost pornographic detail, with their guise of it just being “detailed” biology discussion. The attention I received became a dopamine rush with each new writing piece, where I was desperate to please an audience. An audience with no respect for my boundaries (kept pressing for fatal/digestion, outright smut, some really weird kinks I wasn’t even old enough to process WERE kinks, etc).

On Tumblr, folks adored the little rambles and blurbs I would do on the subject matter. I was not prepared to be put that much on a pedastal in my mid teens, and deeply regret that I was. Several individuals noticed me as I became more known, and pretended to be mentors within that space. Within a Skype group I was discussing with them, they outwardly discussed vore kink-related stuff (by which I mean folks eating strange & dangerous objects for fun) all while being aware I was a teen at the time. This they denied being kink related because they were “nonsexually interested” but supposedly just “respected those who were kinky” as though they weren’t part of that group. Due to Skype’s automatic deletion/hiding of messages two years back, I cannot retrieve these. But this is more so background than anything else.

The individuals within this group (glowinside, tastylittletiny, and Spartaku17) essentially made me the figurehead of the “sfw” side. By telling me that the vore was nonsexual, I believed them and thought it was fine. I was encouraged by them to continue writing the content, posting the writings and asks, and were more or less my biggest fans at the time. They actively packed around me (especially the first two) and told me to ignore anyone trying to convince me otherwise as it was just “harassment.” I was never once told to avoid the kinky spheres (or told how to identify them), and was often pressured to ignore my boundaries to “not exclude the other sides” and therefore pushed much further than I should’ve. They also showed high interest in “recruitment” type efforts wherein I was pressured to “educate” my peers regarding the trope (to those who were with me on that ride, I cannot even begin to express how sorry I am. I hope you are recovering well and have managed to break your chains from that horrible place.)

When I turned 18, I discovered that I was Demisexual. This was immediately used for blackmail. I was told by the nsx side that I had to essentially keep an “UwU wholesome” energy to myself (nonsexual, not a breath of darkness in theme, etc), because if I so much as looked into anything outside of the “SFW” areas as an adult, I would be “proving” I was lying and essentially lose the rights to my autonomy. This also branched into “having permission” to strip my asexual identity away from me. I should not have to explain how fucked that is.

To people outside of the specific cultlike circle I was in, I was presumed to be much older than I was and accused of being a groomer for echoing my abusers’ beliefs. Instead of asking, this was assumed and pushed me in deeper. This was made worse by said groomers insisting I stay away from anything labeled 18+ only - many of which WERE people my age just chilling out and existing. So I was actively therein forced to either give up the right to my autonomy, or be forced to babysit kids to “protect them from people who would hurt them” for two more years. The call was coming from inside the house the whole damn time. This is when I removed myself from the spaces themselves, but only fully processed and disowned it March of this year. I’m still recovering from the damage of a decade’s manipulation.

Now, I do not believe that people who have nonsexual interest in the concept are lying. I’m amidst this group, where my interest is predominantly thematic & Demisexual in nature. However, there is a difference between sexual and “safe for work.” Plenty of nonsexual things can be mature in nature and need to be left to adults. This is where the community falters. Vore still overlaps way too much with the explicit sides, and is NOT for children. I’ve seen far too many people getting chained into this idea that if they just label their work as SFW they’ll be safe - and no. You’re not. The entire community has a common theme of trashing consent for their own kicks; the place isn’t even safe for the ADULTS in it. Anyone who says otherwise is lying, or has been made to think that way.

I’m begging minors not to listen to people coaxing you into a fetish space. Use your mental energy on making some cool monsters & study biology instead. Just don’t believe the “SFW” side of any kink-based community has your best interests at heart. Trust your gut. You’ll thank me later

.

[quietwingsinthesky]

Tossing 🙉 back at u :3 (also 🤝)

How do they react to silence?

I think, from what I've seen of spaceships on good old doccy who, they are never quiet. Not just TARDISes (though Even would love that they are so. well. expressive.) space travel is just noisy in an ambient hum sort of way. A noisy ship is a good ship, a functional ship. A silent ship is bad. The only silent part of space travel is space.

And that's why Even would get so anxious if things were fully quiet around them. With their feet firmly on the ground, they'd get nervous if they couldn't hear anything. It's like a background check constantly running: Can I Hear Things Working: IF yes -> everything is fine. IF no -> we are all about to die.

How do they react to being touched by another person?

very dependent on the person! touch-starved even real and true, but touch-anxious(?) even! also very real! you must approach them like they are a spooked horse and you are the last horsegirl on the ranch who needs them to win the big horse race. treats are very helpful in this regard.

In all seriousness, it's all about trust. Once that's established, Even is. I hesitate to say cuddly. It's more like, they do not understand personal space, do not want to understand personal space, and will insinuate themself into whatever position puts them in the most contact with the person they want to touch. (And very appreciative of things that act as an extension of touch when it can't be supplied, such as getting to wear the Doctor's coat.) They warm up to Jack extremely quick because he's just Like That about casual physical touch, and they enjoy it very much. Once they've befriended Donna, they want to be holding her hand or leaning against her whenever she's nearby. Their first time round with the Doctor, they are constantly reaching for him or returning his touch, easily and happily.

And the second time round, they. aren't. They're skittish about letting him touch them, and they only allow it if they can initiate it and end it on their terms. Even then, it's never going to be an easy thing again, but it isn't unwanted. It will never be unwanted.

And then the Master is. at a certain point, and a lot of boundaries drawn, crossed, redrawn, crossed again, and then forgotten altogether on both sides, and way too much time spent in each other's pockets, it ends up that Even doesn't really register the Master touching them as another person touching them. or. maybe it'd be more accurate to say that the Master touching them doesn't feel to them like the Master touching someone else. That it's more akin to someone touching an object they own to make sure it's still there, or even scratching their own arm to make sure they can feel it. And in turn, Even has even fewer boundaries with them then they managed to develop for other people.

[ewwww-what]

It probably won’t (it will)

[unopenablebox]

im making a wedding guest list in order to. uh. destress. from work anxiety. (we are not officially engaged yet in that we are waiting for our rings to arrive sometime this month and also do not even a little have a wedding date and have not figured out a budget yet. so it's a very stupid exercise. but. i can do whatever i want)

anyway im beginning to worry that i only have two friends? i suppose it's actually good because that will cost less but possibly i have some kind of disease or condition

[armandposting]

one thing about me is that I will Latch On to any character with a fractured identity. I don't have DID but I had the thing where you're too old for an identity-fracturing event to cause DID (17 incidentally) but it still causes you to mentally divide yourself up? i honestly do not know or care if theres a specific psych term for that lol. but anyway so of course an armand who still carries around his previous selves in a very real way is delicious to me. maybe EYE need to write the amadeo regression fic. I don't tho because I have too many wips already. but someone should

[tapestryundone]

not to get controversial but i am an adamant believer that neither tsm and tlq are bad and that while their actions can both get pretty fucked up, theyre both reacting frankly the best way that they know how given the horrible situation theyve been forced into...

[halamshirals]

did you guys know that, well, the cruelty is the point

[hsslilly-blog]

the thing about hunt and claire . to me . is that everything about them has to be restrained. repressed. inhibited. these two stupid idiots need to be in situations that require them NOT to express or address whatever the fuck is going on between them. everything about them is unsaid is implied is left to the imagination. these two need to be fighting against And alongside decorum. they’re bubbling beneath the surface. there’s something constantly censoring them, and that something is themselves. and actually it should never be realised. they do not want it to be realised. which is why they keep up with the ridiculous act forever. because there is something deeply attractive about impropriety for both of them and admitting that is extremely shameful. and they're going to make sure the other one is ashamed of it. this is a novel of manners of their own doing. this is masochism!!!

[troublcmakcrs]

kyle: exists

tweek: i hate you. i'm in love with you. i want to hold your hand. i want to push you off a cliff, catch you at the last second, and make you beg me for your miserable life. i hope nothing bad ever happens to you. i would sell my soul to strap you down in one of those medieval torture nail chairs. i want to cuddle with you and hold you and keep you warm. i want to slit your throat and wash my face with your arterial spray. i want to fuck you. i want to make you breakfast. i want to hold a pillow to your face while you kick and writhe uselessly under me until i feel you go still. i want to kiss your stupid little cheeks. i want to marry you. i want to carve my name into your skin so you never forget me, for better or worse. i want to make you happy. i want to make you cry. i hope you die. i hope we both DIE.

[fragmentedblade]

Kalpas and Sakura are so hot together. Every interaction, every dialogue, even the absence, is so heavy and tense and juicy

[dinitride-art]

hey fisher. thanks for ripping my heart out with that one post

I’m gonna assume this is about the s3 hug gif post. Listen, they didn’t have to make it like that and then hit us with the airport scene. And then s4 is Nancy telling Steve that they aren’t babies anymore and the kids learning about real relationships and feelings. And Lucas and max being like that and planning a date but it feels different from the times before because they’re old enough to start to realize that they mean something to each other.

And then there’s Mike and Will and they’re doing the same thing and realizing what their feelings are and what they mean and struggling. And Mike and Will, for the first time, are distancing themselves from each other emotionally and physically because they’re too old to not know what everything means. And they’re fighting about not keeping contact with each other and they’re trying to be normal and keep a safe distance and be as close as they’re allowed to be and find these new lines that they aren’t allowed to cross. And they can hold a phone at the same time and grab each other when they’re getting shot at but they can’t hold hands just to hold hands like they did when Will was possessed and they can’t be close to each other for longer than they’re allowed to be. But they keep gravitating towards each other and stepping back and forwards and they can’t fully step towards each other because they aren’t allowed to anymore but they can’t pull away because they need each other and they can’t help it. And Will can only reach out to Mike and put his hand on his back to tell him that he’s the heart, to tell him that he needs to save El.

Everything after that scene in season three is different. They’re kids still but they’re too old to not notice what’s allowed and what’s not. They’re starting to realize what real feelings are and what people mean to them. It all changes because Mike and Will can’t not notice their own feelings. They know what they mean now. They know that it’s not allowed. They’re so fucking scared. But they’re also really brave. Will makes Mike a painting, and while it might not go as he originally planned, he still tells Mike what he wanted to say. Even if he says it isn’t from him. And Mike’s questioning his and El’s relationship. He’s been pushing back against making it more serious, saying I love you, and he doesn’t give in when him and El fight about it. He’s trying so hard to be who he is, to be a good person, while protecting himself from what could happen if he was honest with her. They’re both figuring out how much they can have without being in danger. And this was all set up by the end of s3 with that hug. And hoppers letter voiceover. And the Byers moving. And castle byers being destroyed and the rain fight and all of it. Because they’re figuring out who they are now. And that changes everything,

And if they’d just hugged at the airport like normal I wouldn’t have had to write that addition to that post (or… all of this lol)