#welcome to the niche corner

[beggars-opera]

Linnda Caporael: lol everyone in the Salem Witch Trials was on acid

Paul Boyer and Stephen Nissenbaum trying to explain the intricate web of religious, class, and personal conflicts that would actually cause a small isolated village of extremist, ptsd-ridden people to kill each other:

[smaller-comfort]

Because my brain is a slightly ridiculous place at the best of times, I now want an Imperial Radch/Necrons crossover. Ancillaries as a possible solution to biotransference?

Oltyx and Seivarden both getting reprimanded by Ship for swearing. Ship and Breq both looking at Oltyx and going "oh, she's just a baby lieutenant." Oltyx, meanwhile, (still using male pronouns, still a king) is too baffled and frustrated by the fact that Flayer claws can't get through Radchaai armor to even get mad about it.

"Please tell your subjects to stop trying to eat my soldiers, your majesty." Breq is Very Tired.

Trazyn tries to add Mercy of Kalr to the Archives. ("And here we have the Republic of Two Systems Exhibit...") This backfires spectacularly, somehow, and now Sannet and Mercy of Kalr maintain an ongoing correspondence; Breq gets several lifetimes worth of new songs from the Archives.

Trazyn really wishes she would stop humming the song of Serenade around him, though- that's still a bit of a sore subject.

Sphene very happily provides Trazyn with an Anaander Mianaai for his exhibits.

Presger translators cannot digest necrodermis, but this does not stop Zeiat from trying, cheerfully and repeatedly. Trazyn tries to put her in a tesseract labyrinth and she just walks back in through the front door a la that one Simpsons gif.

Kalr 5 serves Zahndrekh tea on the second best china while he plays counters with Zeiat and Sphene. Sphene, at least, can discuss military tactics with him. Zeiat is too busy trying to figure out if she can eat Zahndrekh- he says he's flesh and blood, after all. Obyron is Very Tired. Kalr 5 is just hoping the dishes don't get too scuffed by all that metal.

[jennhoney]

Through a series of unfortunate tumblr events I know that mahexboy and someone that I very briefly messed around with follow the same lovely seemingly cool nsfw blog run by a young woman and I’m just like where do I put this???

[vryfmi]

followed you for the skullyle content. off to like every single possible skullyle post byeeee *salute*

glad to serve as an archive of all things skullyle o7

[thresholdbb]

This is all I can think about during Waking Moments

[friendlyengie]

Do you think Tf2 X Outer Wilds could be anything?

If im going to be completely honest, i have a deep, profound love for outer wilds, but i have a Really hard time doing anything au related for the game just by virtue of the story it tells and the conclusive ending it has. And tf2 could not be more tonally different from outer wilds as a game.

Obligatory “play outer wilds please for the love of god play outer wilds” schpeal uhh you should do it. Super cool open world space exploration game. Sort of like subnautica but minus any resource gathering or building mechanics, very environment and story oriented, but a wide amount of all types of people playing videos games can confirm its a really cool experience even if it didnt seem like a game they’d enjoy. Prepare for a lot of reading and puzzle solving. Also funny non-binary aliens which is awesome.

So, ignoring the wider Narrative Implications, it would still be fun to assign roles to the mercs. So. Cracks my knuckles. Dishing out role under the cut

I think Engineer should be the Hatchling, the main player character, because he seems like the only one who would commit to solving the Mysteries of it all.

Sniper’s very gabbro coded to me, stick him in Giant’s Deep.

Mmmmmm. Medic on Ember Twin in Chert’s place perhaps? Probably the closest one aside from Engineer who would make all the Realizations Chert does during the game.

I think Scout could be a fun Riebeck. Guy who promises hes so not at all afraid of the black hole but also hes just gonna uhhh chill out for a while ok.

Soldier. Soldier Feldspar. You know. Yk.

Maybe Heavy as Esker? Wouldn’t have the same desperation as them, id see him being pretty content (or at least indifferent) to being stationed up there.

Pauling Solanum perhaps. Demo, Pyro, and Spy can be timber hearth residents. Maybe Pyro Hal and Spy Hornfels… Demo Tektite.. checking out the Dark Bramble Seed. Nods.

[harley-sunday]

.

[dexaroth]

im thinking of something... i have parsec installed. if anyone wanna play detroit become human with me. hit me up 🫵

[8pxl]

BEGINNERS GUIDE TO BLUESKY

Hiya! Curious about joining bluesky but intimidated by all the features? Already on bluesky but want to learn more? Then welcome to my quick guide on getting started and navigating bluesky!~

What is Bluesky?

it’s a social media site that’s owned by no single person or company. it's aim is to bring back the early days of twitter before bots, elon musk or algorithms took over. Personally I find the site really cozy, wholesome, and engaging. my Bluesky account for example

What’s unique about Bluesky?

→ CUSTOMIZATION: ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎your timeline is very easy to control. There’s tons of options, so be sure to go through each tab in your settings. some options include: turning off autoplay, changing the order in which threaded replies show, changing DM settings, content preferences and lots of visual app settings.

→ MODERATION LISTS: human made, mass blocklists. These are public lists of accounts that when you subscribe to you automatically block or mute everyone in that specific blocklist. A great way to avoid unwanted content, and interactions. ✦ Moderation lists I recommend will be below the cut

→ STARTER PACKS: recommendation lists on who to follow, made by users. You can even curate your own starter pack of recommendations! ✦ Starter pack recommendations will be below the cut

→ FEEDS: public timelines, basically. There are a lot of feeds you can join, or you can even create your own. I made a feed featuring just my pixel art so it doesn’t get cluttered with text posts or other photos in my media tab. ✦ I’ll post feeds I recommend below and link you to a tutorial on how to create your own feed

→ BLOCKING/MUTING: bluesky has a great blocking system. When you block someone they can no longer see, or interact with you. They also have a feature to make your blog inaccessible unless logged in. you can also mute specific people, delete post replies, and even detach your post from a reblog. You can also mute specific words, phrases, tags etc.

→ NSFW: bluesky allows NSFW content, including artwork, porn, lewds etc. They also have a great moderation page to avoid the content completely, censor the content, or show it if you’d wish. ✦ just go to settings > moderation > toggle on NSFW settings and it’ll let you heavily moderate.

→ LABELS: this is a really cool feature on the site, you can subscribe to certain pages that enable a lot of fun/useful labels that help you in different ways! (like pronoun tags, artist tags etc) ✦ Labels to browse will be posted below

→ COMMUNITIES: the vastly diverse communities really feel like the best parts of tumblr. since you can so heavily curate your experience, it can really feel like a calming oasis. Mine is mostly artists, and other creatives.

there’s also a large community of professional artists, art directors, authors, celebrities, and even the best shitposters from twitter. the app really is what you make of it but it’s thriving right now.

RECOMMENDATIONS & LINKS BELOW ⬎

→ MODERATION LISTS:

HATE SPEECH: NAZIS | MAGA | MAGAv2 | MAGAv3 | TRANSPHOBES & HOMOPHOBES | FAR RIGHT | FAR RIGHTv2 | FAR RIGHTv3 | ELON MUSK FANBOYS | ANTI-BLACK | ANTI-VAX

NFT/AI/CRYPTO: MASTERLIST | AI/NFT | AI/NFTv2 | AI FANBOYS | CRYPTO | NFTs

SPAM/SCAMMERS: SPAMBOTS | BOTS | CONTENT SCRAPERS | CONTENT FARMING

✦ to block or mute everyone in the blocklist at once, click subscribe in the top right corner:

→ STARTER PACKS:

ART: PIXEL ART | PIXEL ARTv2 | WOMEN OF PIXEL ART | BADASS DIGITAL ARTISTS | MAGIC THE GATHERING ARTIST | PAINTERS OF BLUESKY | INDIE COMIC CREATORS | LGBTQIA+ COMIC CREATORS | WEBCOMICS ULTIMATE COLLECTION

GENERAL: WOMEN OF BSKY | AUTHORS | LGBTQ NEWS

SHITPOSTERS: JUNIPER | JUNIPERv2 | MASTERLIST | SCIENCE SHITPOSTERS

✦ for more niche starter packs, use the search function. search your specific interest and ‘starter pack’ and you’ll find some!

→ FEEDS:

DISCOVER | WHATS TRENDING | MENTIONS | ART | TRENDING ART

THE GRAM: a timeline for exclusively image posts from those you follow. no textposts etc. ONLYPOST: similar to the gram, it shows a timeline of only those you follow. no reposts, just original posts. 📌: a way to bookmark posts. just reply with the pin emoji.

✦ there’s tons of others feeds as well! just use the feed tab and you can browse feeds or search for specific ones.

✦ TUTORIAL ON HOW TO CREATE A CUSTOM FEED FOR YOUR ART/POSTS

→ LABELS:

SKYWATCH: most popular label. Lots of useful labels!

AI Labels: identifies AI users, can also enable hiding the posters.

Pronouns: self explanatory but useful. can add a badge with your pronouns!

✦ you can search for additional label bots on bluesky!

OTHER RECOMMENDATIONS:

✦ EXPIRIENCE ENHANCING TOOLS RECS ✦ CLEARSKY: TRACK BLOCKS AND BLOCKLISTS ✦ SKYFEED: CREATE CUSTOM FEEDS EASILY ✦ use the block function often. do not entertain trolls or hate speech. ✦ as well as starter packs, there’s also lists! lists can be used in the same way to create curated lists of accounts. it’s a good way to keep track of specific genres of posters you’re interested in, and finding new ones! ✦ hashtags: use them! they’re beneficial in boosting your post. you can even link hashtags in your bio making you easier to find. another method of making you more visible is if you post an ‘interest’ post! basically just type things you’re interested in and it’ll help people find you / vice versa ! ✦ update your profile first thing, like bio avi etc. make a small post so people know you're real. interact and engage! the communities there are so welcoming!

I think that covers abt everything i wanted to cover! Hope this was helpful and thanks for reading lol

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; soap earns himself the silent treatment. meanwhile, you prepare for your confrontation with makarov, summoning back an old friend under the half-moon.

⚠️ warnings; none

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

The drive back to their shared home was long, tense and quiet, each second stretching painfully over the old car’s steady rumble. Johnny sat in the passenger seat, shoulders hunched, gaze fixed on the passing scenery rather than risk another glance at Price’s set jaw and narrowed eyes. 

When they pulled into the driveway, the late afternoon light painted their home bright. The front door creaked as Price pushed it open, his silence as heavy as a reprimand. Johnny followed, his head down.

Inside, the atmosphere was stifling. 

Gaz leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed, his mouth pressed into a tight line. Ghost stood near the window, hands shoved into his pockets, staring out as if he expected to see something—someone—materialize on the empty street. Neither of them acknowledged Johnny’s return.

Price took off his jacket, tossed it over a chair, and let out a weary sigh. He moved to join Gaz at the island. Laswell’s reports and notes lay scattered on the table: printed documents, scribbled post-its, and a few articles of speculation. They’d been working through the little information Leah had given them—threads of truth knotted with curses and creatures—trying to find something solid to hold onto.

Johnny dared not speak first. The weight of what he had done—going after you alone, risking everything—clung to him like a bad scent. He accepted their silent punishment. He deserved it. Instead, he busied himself in his room with his laptop, firing it up and tapping into old forums, messaging a few trusted contacts. If you wouldn’t return to them, perhaps they could come to you. But how?

He opened a private browser and typed out careful inquiries on niche forums and subreddits dedicated to the occult and magical communities. He knew from experience that if any place could confirm whether outsiders were welcome in the territory the Le Fay line looked after, it would be one of these hidden corners of the internet. He kept his questions vague, professional, and patient. After all, desperation would only draw suspicion.

Johnny’s typing slowed. Magical territory and old coven lands. His search queries grew more specific, more desperate. He tapped into old friend groups—people he’d worked small jobs with before—and sent cautious feelers out. Was the Le Fay territory open to outsiders? Could one simply visit, no matter their magical alignment?

It was a long shot. But after all that had happened, long shots were all they had left.

In the meantime, Gaz’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and frowned slightly. Casting a look toward Price, then Ghost—who didn’t meet his eyes—Gaz spoke quietly, his voice subdued but deliberate. “My mum texted back.” 

Gaz scrolled through the message with quick, flicks of his thumb, his brow furrowed deeply. After a moment, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before setting his phone down.

“She says the parasite’s nature looks vampiric,” he began, tone heavy with reluctant focus. “Something like a succubus—feeding off essence, corrupting bonds. Apparently, it’s rare.”

Silence fell again, each man processing the update. Ghost’s gaze remained fixed out the window, jaw tight beneath his balaclava. Price leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple as if to summon some revelation. Gaz, meanwhile, fiddled with his phone, the screen lighting up intermittently as he switched between texts and notes.

“Anything else?” Price asked after a long moment, his voice subdued but probing.

Gaz hesitated, then groaned as if the answer physically pained him. “Yeah…another essay from Mum. Not just about the parasite—she’s scolding me again.” He paused, his tone dipping into annoyed disbelief. “And she’s got a suggestion. One I really wish she didn’t.”

“What kind of suggestion?” Price asked, leaning forward.

Gaz shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not doing it.”

“Why not?” Price pressed, his eyes narrowing.

Gaz hesitated again, his fingers tapping anxiously against the edge of his phone. “Because it’s invasive. Dangerous. And honestly? Pretty desperate.” His voice grew quieter, more strained. “Besides… we’re past the point where it could help. She knows that.”

“Let us decide that,” Price countered firmly. “What’s she suggesting?”

Gaz didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed somewhere on the table in front of him. He sighed deeply, as if bracing himself, and muttered, “It’s a procedure. Something to… extract her current whereabouts.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Ghost turned his head slightly, his gaze sharp but unreadable. Price’s expression darkened, his voice dropping into a near-growl.

“Explain.”

. . .

The air was thick with the scent of herbs and damp earth as you pushed open the heavy glass door to your Mom’s greenhouse. Inside, the warm glow of lanterns lit rows of pots and planters arranged with meticulous care. Rich, loamy scents mingled with floral notes, and your Mom—ever careful and nurturing—sat in her wheelchair at the far end of the main aisle, a soft shawl draped over her shoulders. Horangi stood nearby, his watchful eyes drifting between you and the delicate seedlings he’d been tending to.

“There you are, my darling,” your Mom said, her voice carrying easily through the hush of growing things. She maneuvered forward, the hand-like appendages of her enchanted chair adapting seamlessly to the uneven floor. “I’ve set aside the moon-bloom petals and dried bloodberry leaves you’ll need. They’re potent wards against vampiric auras.”

“Thank you,” you replied, your voice quieter than intended. Sybil sneezed at your side, her nose twitching at the array of scents. From overhead, the lanternlight flickered, sending shadows dancing across your Mom’s features as she passed you a small wooden box. “Use these wisely. The petals especially—you know they react best under moonlight. One whiff of these and even the slyest vampire should think twice before approaching.”

You nodded, slipping the box into your satchel. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you promised, lips pressed into a determined line.

Horangi stepped forward, extending a vial of something oily and dark. “For your dagger,” he said simply, his voice low and respectful. “Coat it before the fight. If he tries to heal, this will slow him down.”

You accepted it with a murmured thanks, meeting both his gaze and your Mom’s. They nodded, and you caught a glimmer in her eyes—something tender, something that might have been regret or remorse if she knew how to let it show. She extended her hand, placing it softly over yours. 

“You’re stronger than you know,” your Mom said, her tone quieter than usual, more personal. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

You realized, with a sudden ache, that this was her way of apologizing, of acknowledging the cost of everything that had come before. She wouldn’t say it outright—she never would. But in this subtle gesture, in this show of faith and support, she was offering something close to atonement. It wasn’t enough, not for all the scars you carried, but it was more than you’d ever expected.

The silence that followed felt heavy, not with tension, but with the weight of understanding. You nodded, not trusting your voice to remain steady if you spoke.

“I know” you managed at last, your words thin but sincere.

She let her hand slip away gently, and you stepped back from the table. With that, you turned and made your way out of the greenhouse, back into the manor’s long corridors. The transition was stark: from warm, humid air scented with vegetation to cooler hallways lit by candles in their sconces. The old wood floors creaked softly underfoot, each step echoing back. Sybil padded silently beside you, the gentle click of her nails on the floor the only constant sound.

König appeared at the end of the corridor, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearly waiting for you. Since your confrontation, his demeanor had shifted in subtle ways—you caught a glimpse of regret in how he carried himself, uncertainty in how he set his shoulders.

He approached, inclining his head. “Need help with anything else?” he asked, voice lower than usual, as if not to startle you. “I could fetch more supplies, or…..”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a once-over. “So helpful today, aren’t we?” The words came out sharper than you intended. 

His shoulders tensed, but he managed a nod, contrite. “….I know you don’t trust me fully. But I’m with you on this. Whatever you need.”

You let a moment pass, watching him, gauging his sincerity. “Fine.” A sigh escaped your lips as you led him down the hallway. “I need to pick up a few texts from the library. Spells for binding, wards that might hold a vampire if I can’t kill him outright.” You spoke matter-of-factly, as if discussing a grocery list rather than tools for murder.

König followed you to the library, a vast room lined with shelves so tall that rolling ladders were needed to reach the uppermost volumes. The scent of old parchment and leather bindings wrapped around you, comforting in its familiarity.

“I’ve never seen so many books on curses and wards,” König murmured, craning his neck to read spines bearing cryptic symbols. His tone was less guarded now, genuinely curious. “When you were away… with the pack, did you manage to study much magic, or were you more focused on…”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, not missing his subtle attempt to pry more about your life with the pack. Still, you needed him cooperative. You pulled out a thick tome with a silver clasp, setting it on a nearby table. “I studied what I could, here and there,” you replied vaguely. “Different priorities back then. Different goals.”

He nodded, accepting the non-answer without protest. “I see. Just… trying to understand.”

You snorted softly, flipping through the pages until you found the section on vampiric wards. “Don’t try too hard,” you said, but not unkindly. “Just make sure you’re ready to hold your own if things get messy.”

König cleared his throat. “I’ll go check on our transport. Make sure it's ready.”

You inclined your head, watching him depart with measured steps. At least he was trying, in his own way. Turning back to the shelf, you selected another slim volume and tucked it under your arm. 

Gathering a few other volumes, you adjusted the weighty satchel on your shoulder and stepped back out into the hallway. The manor’s corridors were quiet, Sybil following close, her tail brushing against your leg as you walked.

A young maid passed by, balancing a small tray of linens in her arms. You raised a hand, catching her eye, and she immediately dipped her head in a respectful nod, coming to a halt. Her posture was wary but attentive, her gaze flicking briefly toward Sybil before settling on you.

“I need you to take these, please,” you said, your tone even, gesturing to the satchel and the extra texts tucked under your arm, “and deliver them to my room. After that, find Fiona—tell her I want her to bring all necessary things to the pond behind the property.”

You paused, making sure the maid understood. “She’ll know what I mean.”

The maid blinked, curiosity dancing behind her lowered gaze. She hesitated only a moment before carefully accepting the offered items. “Yes, miss,” she replied softly, her voice steady if subdued. Then, adjusting her hold on the bundle, she hurried down the corridor, her footsteps echoing faintly as she went.

You then set off once again, the next steps of your plan falling quietly into place.

. . .

The moon was half, casting a silver-blue sheen over the property’s secluded pond. It's still surface reflected the stars and the faint outline of trees, painting a quiet, sacred picture. Barefoot, and dressed only in a light robe-like garment that fell loosely around your frame, you could feel every blade of grass, every pebble beneath your feet. Wearing nothing underneath was your way of showing humility and respect, a tradition you had failed to fulfill during your previous attempt at this ritual.

Sybil trotted beside you, her soft white fur catching the half-moon’s glow. She stayed close but unobtrusive. The scent of damp earth and evening blooms filled your lungs as you approached the pond’s edge, each step slow and deliberate.

Fiona awaited you there, her posture calm and reverent. She wore a simple veil draped over her hair and eyes, a gesture of respect for what was to come. At her feet lay a small bundle of ingredients wrapped in clean linen. When you reached her, she inclined her head wordlessly.

“Everything is here, as you requested,” Fiona said softly, lifting the linen to reveal sprigs of rosemary, thyme, and lavender. She placed a small pouch of salt at the edge of the cloth, and then bowed her head again.

You nodded, acknowledging her with a quiet “Thank you,” and Fiona departed, her footsteps fading into the hush of the night. You and Sybil were left alone with the whispering wind and the faint chorus of crickets.

Kneeling by the pond, you carefully mixed the herbs—rosemary for protection, thyme for courage, lavender for clarity. The handful of salt followed, grounding the mixture and purifying it. All that remained was a drop of your blood. You pressed the tip of a small, clean blade against your thumb and let a single red bead drip onto the mixture. The herbs and salt seemed to hush even further, as if waiting for the next step.

Sybil watched on, ears perked, as you swirled the mixture gently in the water at the pond’s edge. The night air seemed to still, and you could almost feel the veil between worlds thinning once again. The soft glow of the moon on the water’s surface danced as you murmured her name under your breath:

“Nimue,” you whispered, voice steady despite the thudding of your heart. “Lady of the Lake.”

At first, there was nothing but silence and the gentle lap of water against the shore. Then the surface of the pond began to shimmer, the reflection of the moonlight twisting, bending, as though disturbed from beneath. Slowly, Nimue emerged, her dark, damp hair clinging to her neck. She rose until her shoulders were visible, her arms folded softly over the edge of the water as if resting on an invisible ledge.

Nimue tilted her head, her eyes ancient and calm. Without hesitation, you leaned forward, letting your robe’s hem brush lightly against the edge. You reached out, not for a weapon or a spell, but for her hand, which hovered just above the pond’s mirror-like surface. Her skin was cool to the touch, and as you brought her hand closer, you pressed your lips gently to her knuckles, closing your eyes briefly in deference.

“So thou rememberest the old ways,” quoth Nimue, her voice like distant chimes. “Aye, centuries have passed since any did greet me so. The last time… King Arthur himself knelt at these waters and pressed his lips to my hand, his heart full of quest and longing. Thou dost do him proud, child.”

She regarded you more closely, a wry tilt to her pale brow. “Of course, ’tis no mere happenstance that thou sharest the blood of mine wretched—albeit misunderstood—sister’s line. The old ties run deep, and fate weaveth her tapestry most strangely indeed.”

As you let her hand go, she regarded you with a gentle tilt of her head, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Verily, much hath changed since last we met. Whether for better or ill, I cannot yet say.”

You straightened, shoulders squared despite the humility of your attire and bare feet. “Nimue,” you began, respectful but firm, “I have not called you for counsel. I would like you to know what I am about to do.”

Her gray eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity lighting their depths. “Oh?” she breathed, as soft as the breeze across the pond.

Your heart tensed at the memory of the frim task before you. “I’m going to do what must be done to claim my rightful place as the future leader of the coven. I have to face Vladimir Makarov and take his head,” you said, voice unwavering even as your pulse thundered. “This isn’t a request or a plea. It’s a statement of intent. He dared to make me his prey, and I won’t allow it.”

For a moment, Nimue said nothing. She studied you in the moonlight, her silence weighted with centuries of wisdom and memory. Sybil nudged your leg, and you absently stroked her fur, refusing to break eye contact with the Lady of the Lake.

Nimue finally inclined her head, the faintest ripple spreading across the pond’s surface. “I see thou hast grown indeed,” she said, her tone holding quiet acknowledgment. “Whether thy path leadeth to glory or ruin is not mine to say, but I acknowledge thy choice.”

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “That’s all I needed,” you said quietly. “Just to tell someone beyond the coven’s whispers that I’m about to do this. To mark this moment, as Arthur once did when he knelt at these waters seeking the great sword.”

She smiled again, subtle and distant, as though recalling a memory eons old. The hush of the night pressed in around you, the water reflecting faint starlight and your own resolve.

“Very well,” Nimue concluded softly, “I have borne witness.”

With that, she began to sink beneath the surface, her eyes lingering on you until the last moment before the water stilled, as if she had never emerged. Only the echoes of her voice remained, woven into the quiet darkness.

You sat there for a while. No longer a plea, no longer a question—just a path chosen, a destiny embraced, and an ancient power bearing silent witness to what you would soon become.

banner credit

[beggars-opera]

tumblr is like HUAC if it was run by a bunch of teenagers with no reading comprehension instead of a bunch of grown ass men with no reading comprehension

[smaller-comfort]

I've had this stuck in my head for like a month and a half. Now I have a stupid ms paint app on my phone, I am unstoppable. (I am in fact extremely stoppable, but shh.)

[dahfloofysmol]

HELLO. This is the official post for YouTube kids’ surprise party on the 27th of March. Any and all gimmick blogs welcomed!

Some roles we need are:

-DJ [real-pollo-campero]

-great DJ (as per requested 🤨) [spotify-kids-real]

-video jockey [buildabearfr]

-Someone to make the cake [forever21-official]

-Puncher server [big-mayo-official]

-Decorator [barns-and-noble-official]

-Party crasher(s) [officialtinder and youtubefr and actually-kroger]

-Corner Person [Pinterest, yahooo-official, reallytimhortons]

-Person who’s dealing with a crazy sugar high [firewaysubs and zotap]

-Emotional support [walmart and def-bjs-guys]

-Mom [Krista the art program and Canadian tire] AND dad friend

-Birthday person IS taken (obviously lol)

-Someone to bring snacks [incognito-mode-official]

-Ring Leader (person in charge of the games) [totally-official-yahoo]

-person who performs a special but confusing (and overly translated) version of happy birthday [google translate ]

-piñata [firehouse-subs-fr]

-setting off fireworks [google-news-official]

-here for the food and bringing tWO DOGS!!! OMG DOGS!!!!! [swearification-and-cursing]

-person currently trying tO EAT THE CAKE!! STOP THAT!!! [shakespeare-official-account]

- stopping the Cake Eater [wow-google-maps]

- putting spiders (?????) under the cake [true-blue-straya]

- the person that is every bisexuals awakening [it’s-target-official]

-pops in for the last 5 minutes with a card + a store bought cake [the-real-google]

- gay wine uncle [the-McDonald’s]

- creepy uncle (???) [rick-e-chedder-official]

-single rich aunt who disappears every night at specifically 8:00 pm [totally-not-kraft-mac-and-cheese]

-shapeshifts between wine aunt and vodka uncle, and the comic relief [the-one-and-only-duckduckgo]

- bringing lights so we aren’t all dancing in the dark [real-vivaldi-browser]

- summoning Satan under the table with a bottle of whiskey and pancakes (??????????) [definitely-canada]

-person asking weirdly specific and absurd questions [actual-aspec-military]

-the COOLEST cousin [support-speaks]

-cousin who hangs out in the corner and looks like they know something you dont [the-official-publix]

-person who hits on everyone at the party even though they’re already dating 2 ppl [fr-winn-dixie]

-contributes Ziploc® bags [totally-scjohnson]

-bringing burritos [the-real-chipotle]

-YouTube's kids southern aunt who blesses everyone's hearts bc they think theyre dumb most of the time [i-bless-your-heart]

-middle school cousin who argues with anyone and everyone to look cool [wallyworld-the-unofficial]

-gives oil (?????????????) and branded pens as party favors [truly-jcjenson]

-the strange neighbor kid who talks to no one but sings the loudest and brings a weird yet tasteful gift [the-real-aperture-science]

-bringing Walmart sugar cookies [not-really-discord]

-guy bringing the Knives [wheatley-labs-official]

-joining in on the games [totally-official-yahoo]

-the disco ball [jollibee-real]

-that one uncle with lore of untold numbers of deaths involved, and that includes guns [partycityistotallyofficailguy]

And any other role I haven’t stated!! I’ll accept pretty much anything

In case what you pick is already chosen, tag your second option ;p

—>The biggest part of the surprise party is wishing YouTube kids a happy birthday, but in the most creative way possible. In the “ask me” works, but literally anywhere; on your blog or on a post from anywhere (that you know they’d be okay with a little shenanigans) works wonderfully.

->Also, saying happy birthday is awesome, but spicing it up would be more fun!!! Day Of Birth, One of Awakening, Oh Child of the 27th, and any other batshit way to say “happy birthday” would both be awesome and absolutely hilarious.

Again, invite any and all gimmick blogs, and feel free to let me know what you’d want to do! We attack on the 27th >:DD

ADDITIONAL NOTE: sometimes there will be more than one person in each role! I do actively encourage for people to come up with silly and niche roles if you think of one ;D

ON THE 24th I WILL NO LONGER TAKE ROLLS!!!! Spread the word please!

@barnes-and-noble-official @basically-bumble @totallyofficialtacobell @totally-official-yahoo @totally-bing @officialtinder @officially-google-translate @officially-ikea @official-fedex @incognito-mode-official @forever21-offical @officialkfc @kfc-official @k-f-c-official @life360-i-swear @xgames-blog @cars-official @big-mayo-official @bingle-official @the-real-google @the-real-firefox @nasa @wow-google-maps @wallyworld-the-unofficial @walmart-the-official @realgoogleslides @realgoogledocs @yahooo-official @unfortunate-wattpad @firewaysubs @firefox-official @pinterest-real @spotify-kids-real @duothelingo @definitely-wikipedia @firehouse-subs-fr @google-2point0 @gimmick-thief

[whiskeyncoke-redux]

Imagine mando’s reaction to seeing fem!reader playing with or being sweet with grogu- and seeing how grogu takes a liking so quickly to her (if they just met)

I just feel like it would make his heart flutter

Hi, Nonny, sorry it took me so long to answer this. I tried my best thinking about how it would go. I hope you like what I came up with.

The Stowaway

Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

A/N: Feedback is always welcome. It's almost 5am so any typos are my bad.

Warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat there fidgeting slightly, your nerves getting the better of you. You shifted in your seat again as the stranger, the Mandalorian, you had heard others call him, stalked towards you. Your breath hitched in your throat as he stopped in front of you and glared at you - as far as you could tell, you couldn’t see his face through his helmet - but you swore you could feel him giving you an icy cold stare.

“How did you get in here?” he asked you again. 

Yeah, he’s definitely glaring, you thought. 

You sighed and shook your head. “It was an accident,” you told him again. You had told him this at least four times, but he kept asking you as if your answer was going to change. 

You hadn’t meant to sneak onto his ship. You were running from raiders and had hopped in the first thing you saw. You didn’t know nor care to whom it belonged, you just needed to get away and fast. 

You heard him sigh. “Well, I’m taking you back,” he told you. “I don’t have any more room.” 

“No,” you said, shaking your head. Your home was gone, you didn’t have anything to go back to. The raiders had destroyed everything. “There’s no back to go to. I don’t have anything left. Besides,” you looked around, “you have plenty of room. I was in here for two days before you even noticed.”

You couldn’t tell, but you were more than sure he had frowned at that. 

“Next stop, I’m dropping you off,” he told you. “I don’t need anyone else on this ship.”

“Fine with me,” you said. You had planned to hop off when he made his next stop in the first place. 

“It’ll be three more days,” he told you. “Just stay out of my way.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “So, where can I…?” you had started to ask him where you could bunk, but he just turned around shaking his head and walking away. You shrugged and reached into your pack for something to eat.

—-------

You managed to stay out of each other’s way for a day, but your curiosity had gotten the best of you by the second day. You had gotten out of the niche you had made for yourself and decided to stretch your legs. 

You wandered around, making sure to keep quiet. You didn’t see anything interesting, really it was your typical ship, you seen one, you’ve seen them all. You were about to go back to your niche when you heard a noise. You stopped and listened again. 

What was that? It sounded like a small child or something. That’s interesting, you thought. Maybe that’s what he meant about not having room for anyone. He already has someone in here. You walked towards where you thought it was coming from. There was a curtain covering a section, you pushed aside and peered around the corner. 

“Hello?” you called out softly. In response, you heard a cooing sound. 

You looked around and didn’t see anything. Nothing but a pile of some things and a small hammock strung up. You walked into the space and called out again, “Is anyone here?”

The cooing noise answered you again and then, to your surprise, a small head popped out. You bit your tongue, so as not to yell out. You had never seen anything like this creature before. It was small and green with big ears and wide blinking eyes. Once you got over the initial shock, you smiled. It was kinda cute. You kneeled down to get on eye level with it.

“Um, hi,” you said nervously.

It cooed again, and reached out a small hand to you.

“D-do you have a name?”

The creature blinked at you and tilted its head as if to ask you who you were and what you were doing in its space.

“I’m guessing you can’t talk, huh?”

It made another noise, this time, you figured, it was a happy one. You reached out and touched its outstretched hand. The noise it made this time was definitely a happy one and you were sure it smiled. You grinned down at the creature and it came out from its hiding spot. You repositioned yourself and sat cross-legged on the floor. The two of you studied each other for a bit.

“What are you doing here?” you asked it, knowing that it couldn’t answer you. It just made another noise.

 “Are you friends with that Mandalorian?” 

Another cooing noise. 

“Guess that means yes,” you said, looking around. “I mean you have a pretty nice set up here. A room, kinda, hammock…”

The creature looked around and then back at you, tilting its head again. You took it to mean that it was asking you what you were doing there.

“I hid out,” you said. “I was running from raiders, they destroyed my home. I didn’t think it was a big deal, I was gonna hop off as soon as your friend made another stop. Thought I could hide out. Didn’t know it would be three days. He caught me. I was trying to stay out of his way but I just wanted to look around…”

“What are you doing?” a voice asked from behind you, making you and the creature jump in surprise.

You hopped up quickly, spotting the Mandalorian. “Oh, I was just, um…”

“You were supposed to stay out of the way,” he said. 

“Right, sorry,” you mumbled and scrambled out of the way, making your way back to your niche.

A few hours later, while you were snacking on some of the food you had, you heard the sound of the little creature cooing. You peered out from where you were and saw it blinking up at you. You smiled again.

“Hey,” you whispered, “what are you doing here?”

It made another noise then climbed into where you were. The two of you looked at each  other for a bit before the creature looked at the food in your hand.

“Are you hungry?” you asked, handing some of your food to it.

It smiled and took the food from your hand and gobbled it up quickly. You laughed and it made a noise that you assumed was a happy one. 

“You need to slow down,” you said, handing it another piece and taking some more and eating it yourself.

After you finished eating, the creature stayed around where you were. You talked to it, telling it about your home, your family, and some happy times and you assumed it enjoyed your stories because it listened intently for a bit. Then it went searching in your pack pulling out some of your things. You showed it your stuff, explaining what each thing was and where they came from and any stories behind them. 

Soon, you could see it getting sleepy. You reached out your arms and the creature went into them immediately and snuggled against you. You talked to it softly, telling it a story your mother had told you every night to get you to sleep. When you finished, you looked down and saw it was sound asleep. You got up carefully, then looked around, checking that the Mandalorian wasn’t anywhere around. Once you were sure that the coast was clear, you tiptoed back to the space where you found the creature and placed it carefully in its hammock and covered it with a blanket. You looked down at it for a second, watching it sleep peacefully, before heading back to your niche.

Unbeknownst to you, you were being watched by the Mandalorian.

The next day, you were awakened by the creature, gently tapping you. 

“Hey!” you said, stretching and yawning, then smiling at it.

It made a cooing sound, then turned and walked off. You figured it wanted you to follow it, so you got up and did. It took you back to his space. It went and dug through some things before producing a small silver ball. You looked at it curiously. The creature settled down and you did the same across from it. It stretched out its hand with the ball in it and you took it. You watched it as it closed its eyes, concentrating, and then you felt a small tugging in your hand. The ball flew out of your palm and into its hand.

It opened his eyes and made a triumphant noise. 

“Woah!” you exclaimed, “you did that? How?” You took the ball again. “Can you do it again?” you asked.

In response, the creature closed its eyes and did it again, making you cheer.

“This is so cool!” You reached in your pocket and pulled out a charm that once went on a necklace. “Can you do it with this too?”

It closed its eyes, stretched out his hand and the next thing you knew, your charm flew out of your hand and into the creature’s. You cheered again, making the creature excited. You two did this for a few hours, before, you guessed, the creature got tired. It climbed into your lap and snuggled against you again, looking up at you with its big eyes. You smiled down at it.

“Wanna hear that story again?”

It made a sound that you assumed meant yes and you began to tell the story, watching as the creature drifted off to sleep.

You had forgotten that you were supposed to be out of the way, but you were soon reminded when, again, the Mandalorian’s voice startled you.

“What are you doing?” he asked, but this time sounding not nearly as upset.

“We were just, um, playing, I guess,” you said softly. “Then it got tired and fell asleep.”

“Oh,” he grunted. “I see.” 

“Right,” you said, getting up carefully and putting the creature in its hammock and covering it. 

The Mandalorian had watched you and marveled at the tender way you played and cared for the child. He felt something stir inside him.

“Well, I guess I’ll go back to my…”

“He has a name,” he said, interrupting you.

“Huh?”

The Mandalorian nodded to the hammock. “The child, he has a name.”

“Oh, um, what is it?”

“Grogu.”

“Grogu? Huh, that’s interesting. Do you have a name?"

“I was watching you,” he said, ignoring your question. “Watching you talk to him, and play with him. He likes you.”

“Really? It… I mean, he does?” you asked, shocked. “How can you tell?”

He shrugged. “I just can. It’s nice.”

“Oh, well that’s good then.”

You both stood there for a minute staring at each other.

“Well,” he said. “Have you eaten yet?”

You shook your head. “No, I…”

“Come on, I have something,” he turned to walked off before stopping and glancing back at you. "You can call me Din," he told you before walking off.

You glanced back at the tiny, sleeping form of the child, Grogu and smiled, then turned to follow Din.

[thesweetnessofspring]

THG Trick or Treat 2024...?

Last year some THG blogs did a trick or treat in the month of October. (see #thg trick or treat). Basic idea is those who choose to put on their "porch light" have their ask box open to "trick or treaters."

Trick or treaters leave an ask with anything from a simple "trick or treat" to a seasonal description/joke to a request/prompt (which is up to the responder if they want to fulfill). Those with their porch light on can give their trick or treaters candy emojis, photos, headcanons, moodboards, songs, jokes, doodles, fic recs, lines from a WIP, short fics, or any other "treat" they so choose!

Right now, some of us are trying to garner if there is interest in participation for 2024. So where are you at with this? (reblogs appreciated to reach all corners of the fandom!)

All in THG fandom are welcome to participate. This is not limited to any one ship or other niche

And obviously, if your ask box is open, you can also trick or treat and enjoy the posts.

[cowboyemeritus]

Shovel Bums (Cardinal Copia/Reader)

Shovel Bum (n): a slang term referring to a contract archaeologist; someone who works in the cultural resource management industry.

Or, you and Copia help each other get through a long week of fieldwork. (18+)

Tags: workplace relationship, secret relationship, outdoor sex, archaeology au

Read on AO3

Notes: this is so incredibly self-indulgent, but it is basically my life (not the affair part, lol). i hope it's not too niche.

still slowly working my way out of writers block. lots and lots of ideas that i want to share with you all :)

feedback is always welcome!

It’s only September, but fall is in the air. The mornings are chilly, the days are still annoyingly hot, but the nights, for now, are just right. The rest of the crew has already gone to bed, leaving just you and Copia sitting around the dying campfire. Though the sun has set and the day has been long — everyday, it seems, lasts forever in the field — there is still plenty of work for you two. Gadgets need to be charged. Data needs to be reviewed. Site forms need to be completed. If you had time, you’d make a plan for tomorrow that’s more detailed than “walk in a straight line and don’t die,” but it would be a fruitless endeavor. Seldom do your expectations actually come to pass.

This project, for instance, has just been roadblock after roadblock, mishap after mishap. Equipment failures, rough terrain, and perplexing sites merely scratch the surface of all the things that have worked to slow you down. That’s all par for the course in this line of work, but when you haven’t interacted with society in days, it starts to eat at you. When you know you’re sleeping in a tent tonight and your next shower isn’t coming for days, there are only so many transects you can walk, only so many rocks you can look at, before you lose your mind completely. And with two days left and still so much ground to cover, it’s hard not to feel the pressure building. You’ve already done two sessions out here, and there’s only enough cash left in the project budget for this week, a fact that haunts you and Copia like a specter. This thing has to be done by the end of Sunday, or else.

But who cares about that when there’s cool, old shit to look at?

“I’m telling you,” you say quietly, for the sake of your sleeping crewmates, “that point Dew found this morning? Elko Corner Notched.” It’s a fantastic specimen, knapped from one of the many chunks of petrified wood that erode out of the mesas, littering the landscape. This one is red, with bands of orange and yellow that, to you, resembles a sunset. To illustrate your point you hold up one of your (many) artifact guides alongside your tablet, a photograph of the projectile already on display. Copia looks up from his paperwork and squints at it from across the dying fire, eventually coming over get a better look. You gaze up at him as he takes the device from you, admiring how handsome he looks in the orange glow. Though he’s more diligent than anyone on the crew about applying sunscreen, you swear he gets more freckles every day. Not that you mind. His nose scrunches up a little as he looks back and forth between the screen and the book.

“I don’t know,” he says, a hint of teasing in his voice. “Still looks like Chaco to me. And wasn’t it by that room-block we recorded yesterday?” You put on your best faux-pout, secretly delighting in the mirthful look in his eyes.

“Well, yeah,” you acquiesce, snatching back the tablet so that you can zoom in on the stem of the point, where it would have been hafted to the shaft of an arrow. “But, look. The base is concave. Chaco is convex or straight.” Copia plops himself down next to you with one of his cute little grunts, resting his chin on your shoulder. “And look at how serrated it is.” He hums in agreement, at this point merely feigning interest in the artifact’s true identity. You feel an arm slink around your back, his hand coming to your hip and gently squeezing the flesh there.

“I love it when you correct me,” he murmurs into your ear. It’s meant only for you, but sound travels in strange ways out here and you can’t help the chastising look you give him. Copia flashes you a cheeky smile to show you just how not-sorry he is and you roll your eyes.

“You’re not gonna be saying that for long, ‘co-Project Manager.’” You laugh, nervous excitement bubbling up at the thought of your recent promotion. Copia had been instrumental in helping you get it, arguing to the company that he needed the help and you, already his right hand, could handle the responsibility. He’d held your hand throughout the process of applying for your state supervisor permit, too, a truly harrowing process that makes your skin crawl to think about. And while the change has brought a staggering increase in the amount of hours you work and corporate bullshit you put up with, splitting the project with him has definitely helped you ease into your new role. With his attention to detail and your obsession with efficiency, you make a pretty solid team. Copia has made this nightmare bearable; you’re grateful to have him, even if he’s a little shit sometimes.

Copia chuckles, finally closing the gap between you. His lips are chapped from the sun, but you’re certain yours are, too. Under the fresh coating of smoke from the fire is the smell of exertion mingled with the artificial scent of cleansing wipes. No one on the crew has had a proper shower in days; that’s just how camping projects go. They’re sweaty, and dusty, and seem to drag on forever, but the satisfaction of looking at a filled-out map at the end of the session (and the notion of several days off) makes it entirely worth it. At this point, though, you’re more-or-less blind to the sweaty human smell, and the feeling of having him so close, especially after the hellish few days you’ve had, is too tempting to resist. Pressing further into the kiss, you can’t help the quiet, contended hum that emanates from your chest.

There’s a rustling from Cirrus’ tent, and both of your heads snap in that direction. Copia, suddenly skittish, scoots away and a moment of tense, almost fearful silence passes over you. What you’re doing isn’t technically against the rules, but with the promotion, it looks a little suspicious. When the opportunity presents itself, you agreed, you’ll make… whatever this thing is, known to any affected parties. For now, though, it’s easier to lurk in the shadows, stealing kisses when no one is looking.

When she, when anyone, fails to emerge and spoil your fun, you give Copia a pleading look. He’s back at your side almost instantly, capturing your mouth again. Eagerly, your arm snakes behind his back, fingers twisting into the thick brown hair at the base of his skull. You lightly scratch at his scalp, and can feel the shiver that runs down his spine. Copia groans quietly into your mouth, then nips at your bottom lip. The lingering traces of warmth from the fire are nothing compared to the heat his advances stir within you. Suddenly needing him desperately, you allow your lips to part, tongue slipping through to prod at his. Copia’s mouth is sweet with the lingering taste of the candy you’ve carefully rationed all week, and you press into him greedily, wanting nothing more than to feel his hands on your body. You get a very risky, very tempting idea.

There’s a string of saliva connecting your tongues when you pull away. For a moment, you wonder how that’s even possible with how much you sweat all the damn time. “Let’s,” you start, nodding in the direction of the trees. Copia gives you a confused look. “Somewhere more private.” The realization hits him. He quirks an eyebrow, now looking rather bemused. Mischief is attractive on him.

“Bellissima, we could be seen… together. People will start to talk.” No one on the crew gets paid enough to care and you both know that. He’s just riling you up. You grunt, stealing another desperate kiss.

“Not if you’re quiet,” you grumble, planting your lips on his pulse point. Emboldened by desire, your hands find his, bringing them to your breasts. “I need you. It’s been…” You have to restart your count when he thumbs over your nipples, already hard through the flimsy fabric of your camisole. Your thighs press together as you recall the last time you had him; frantic, hurried, just minutes before mobilizing on Monday morning. “It’s been five whole days. That’s far too long.” Copia looks like he can’t help the laugh that escapes him. The only option is to silence him with your mouth, but when you finally let him escape for air he’s still got that shit-eating grin on his face. Suddenly, it’s not so handsome anymore. You scowl. “I’m dying here.”

“A snake could bite you on the butt.”

“I’ll bite you on the butt,” you say. Copia cocks his head as if to say don’t threaten me with a good time, and you roll your eyes. Huffing, you stamp your foot, kicking up a small cloud of dust. “All you do is fucking question me. Got me promoted, for what?” You stand up from the log and wince as your hip pops. When the session is over, you’ll need to thoroughly stretch every part of your body. “Let’s go.” You take a few paces away from camp, looking over your shoulder to find Copia tailing you. This is greatly satisfying, and you smirk at him as you saunter off into the forest.

“I’ve created a monster,” you think you hear him say.

The first step in your scheme is to put as much distance between you and the camp as is possible. To that end, you walk out about 50 meters into the trees, stop, decide it’s still too close, then trudge out another 20 or so. It takes a few tries to find a good spot; one large juniper has a colony of ants eating away at its base, the ground beneath another is pockmarked with rodent burrows. Eventually you find a tree about 75 meters out and decide it fits your needs. It’s tall enough for you to lean against, and one large branch juts out right around waist height. You’re only screwed if someone needs to take a piss and chooses the wrong direction to walk in. Liking those odds, you plant yourself down on the branch, watching impatiently, arms crossed, as Copia catches up. Without needing instruction, he slots himself between your parted legs.

In an instant your fingers are tangling into the front of his shirt, pulling him in. Now that you’ve gotten a taste, you need as much of him as you can get. His tongue pushes past your lips the moment your mouths meet, and when he presses his hips into you the hardness of his arousal is obvious. Encouraging him, you grind into him as best you can, planting a hand on the branch to steady yourself. On one stroke the zipper of his hiking pants catches your clit and you moan quietly, pleasure winding up in your gut like a rattlesnake waiting to strike. Copia chuckles into your mouth, cupping your cheek to stop you from following when he pulls away, glancing at his wristwatch.

“It’s already 9:45,” he observes. You stare at him, deadpan, needing only the exhaustion in your bones to tell you it’s probably too late to be doing this.

“Be quick, then,” you mutter, reaching for the button on his trousers. He grunts when your knuckles brush against his hard length, but he lets you work without complaint. Your mouth fills with saliva as you pull him out of his briefs, taking a moment to admire his manhood and savor the weight of it in your hand. Even in the dark — it suddenly dawns on you that you didn’t bring a flashlight, which will make getting back to camp interesting — you can just barely see that the head is flushed a deep pink that blooms all the way down his shaft. He likes to tease, but you know he needs you just as bad. You spit into your palm, giving him a few quick jerks. Copia groans, head falling back as he starts gently fucking into your fist. Watching him, you’re overcome with the desire to take him in your mouth, but that’s not a good idea until both of you have had a date with soap and running water. Instead, you take his hand and again bring it to your chest, untucking your shirt so that he can reach under it. There’s a pleasant jolt when the pad of one of his fingers brushes across your bare nipple and you whine, tilting your head upwards so Copia knows he should kiss you. With a quiet hum he obliges. This kiss is more gentle than before, simpler, but that’s okay. It makes you slow down for what feels like the first time in days.

It’s an exquisitely beautiful evening. The sky is dusted with more stars than you could ever get in the city, twinkling like fine crystal beads against the faint backdrop of the Milky Way. Even in the darkness the forest around you is alive, a symphony of crickets scoring your tryst. An owl hoots somewhere, the sound carried on the cool, lazy breeze. Moments like these, when you’re able to liberate yourself from the demands of the job and appreciate your surroundings, have become increasingly rare. It’s hard to be mindful when you’re constantly, both physically and mentally, in motion, and the deadlines often overshadow your interest in the material. Sometimes, it’s hard to be thorough and scientific when all you want to do is lay down in a freezer and sleep. Sometimes, you forget that you chose to do this, that you’re an archaeologist, and not some drone at the mercy of whatever utility company is footing the bill.

Right now, though, none of that matters. If only for a little while, work doesn’t exist. It’s just you, him, and the endless night.

Soon, though, the moment is over. You grow impatient. Growling, you shoot up from your seat, fumbling with the fastenings of your own pants. Your mouth is still interlocked with Copia’s, the sudden motion causing your teeth to clack together. Somehow you just can’t get the button undone. The piece of plastic keeps slipping through your fingers, still slick with saliva and smears of precum. Suddenly, you want to fucking scream, to give up this game and go flop down in your tent and pass out, but then Copia’s hands are shooing yours away. He pulls back from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, encouraging you to take a few deep breaths in and out your nose. You recognize the look in his eyes from the field, from the moments of stress and crisis you’ve had over these past few weeks. Your heartbeat begins to steady, knowing its meaning:

Chill out, baby. I’ve got you.

You sigh, eyes sliding shut as you let Copia take over the task of unbuttoning your pants. He nestles his face into the crook of your neck as he does, planting a kiss to the sensitive flesh. You feel the glide of his tongue, sampling the salt of your skin, and shiver. Once he’s done with your zipper he grabs your trousers at the hips and tugs them down your legs, leaving them bunched up at your knees. You feel almost childish, needing him to undress you like this, but can’t deny how arousing it is to watch him take care of you. As if to prove that point, the tips of his fingers ghost over your outer lips, just enough for him to feel the wetness soaking through your panties. Even the most simple touch is electrifying against your frayed nerves, and you whimper. Copia’s hand slips under the waistband, skilled digits immediately finding your clit and drawing tight circles around it. A choked sob leaves you when he bites down on your neck, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to evoke the image of him claiming you in your whirling, lust-clouded mind.

“Cope,” you whine, about to rag-doll against him. “Fuck. Come on.” He snickers into your neck, the stray hairs of his normally well-kept mustache tickling your skin, before leaving another playful nip just under your jaw. Grinding his hot, hard cock against your hip, he grunts. The hand pleasuring you retreats, his pointer finger hooking under your panties and tugging them down. He delves between your folds once more, gathering your arousal and using it to slick up his length. There’s a pinprick of loss, of missing having him close, as he turns you around to bend over the tree limb, but it’s quickly replaced by anticipation when the head of his cock prods at your center. Bracing yourself against the branch, you need only wiggle your hips enticingly and he’s pushing into you, a held-back moan rumbling deep in his chest. The stretch is heavenly, hitting all the spots that have gone so tragically neglected. Copia gives an experimental thrust and your head falls between your shoulders. “Oh, fuck, yes.” Your legs are already wobbling. You choose not to think about how the ten hours of hiking on tomorrow’s agenda will feel.

For the time being, both of his hands snake around to your front, sliding under your shirt to fondle your breasts. He latches onto your nipples almost instantly, and each time he pinches the little pink buds a shockwave travels down your spine. Already, that climactic energy is building, nestled deep in your belly. Copia’s pace is casual, unhurried, as if he wasn’t griping about the time only minutes ago. You can feel the heat of his body against your back, his still-damp field shirt sticking to your equally sweaty skin. When you get home, you’ll take the longest shower known to mankind. If Copia is lucky, maybe you’ll invite him to join you. Right now, though, you need more from him. Much more. Twisting your head back, you smash your mouth into his with a needy whine, nipping and tugging at his bottom lip.

“Faster,” you beg, pressing your backside into him so that he can reach even deeper inside you. “Please.” Copia chuckles against your lips, a hand traveling to the apex of your legs to toy with your aching clit. You swear there’s a glint of something wicked in his eyes as he watches your whole body convulse with pleasure, but before you can chastise him for teasing he captures your mouth once more, tongue pushing forcefully past your lips. He keeps you like that a while, using the hand at your chest to hold you in place until you see stars. Once he’s had his fill you finally get your wish, his hips bucking into you with earnest. The clap of skin-on-skin makes you a little nervous, but it’s just so hard to care about being caught when he’s doing you this good.

Copia grunts, pressing his cheek into yours. You can feel the sweat beading at his temples. “You make me work like a fucking dog all day, and still all you do is boss me around. I had better be getting overtime for this.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, you poor thing. Sorry I’m so-“ The head of his cock hits your sweet spot perfectly and you have to bite your lip to stifle a moan. “Demanding.”

Copia snickers, kissing you again. “Anything to please you, Boss Lady.”

At this pace, it doesn’t take long until you’re teetering on the edge of your release. From the intensity of Copia’s breathing and the small stutters in his thrusts, you can tell he’s not far off either. The tree bark, sun-dried and peeling off in strips, digs into your palms, but you cling tighter to the branch as your knees begin to knock together. He still has a hand on your breast, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. One of yours, smaller and not nearly as worn (yet), comes up to rest atop it. Absentmindedly, you trace the thin line of a scar running down the length of his middle finger, a souvenir from his field school days. He takes that as a cue to intertwine his digits with yours. Something about that finally sets you off, and with a few more swipes around your clit you’re falling apart, shaking and cursing. It’s like every thread of tension in your body decides to relax at once, forcefully expelling the stress you’ve been bottling up all week. Copia says nothing but is with you through the entire ordeal, planting soft kisses on your cheek as you come down. Once you start squirming from overstimulation he stops playing with your clit, but keeps fucking you just as hard and fast. A few moments later he moans through gritted teeth, pulling out to jerk himself off the rest of the way. Over your combined breathing you can just barely make out the sound of his release spattering onto the sandy soil below.

You remain like that, him hunched over your bent form, for a few beats. After collectively catching your breath Copia straightens back up, stretching with a satisfied groan. Before either of you can forget, he kicks some dirt over the newly consecrated, cum-soaked ground, concealing the evidence of your rendezvous. “That do it for ya?” He asks, tucking his softening member back in his pants. Contented, you sigh, nodding as you pull your own trousers up. You don’t bother with the accursed button, choosing to have faith in just your zipper.

“Oh, yeah.” Once you’re confident your pants will stay up, you pull him in for another kiss. “Thank you for indulging me.” He smiles gently at you, green eyes twinkling like the stars above. All of sudden, the entire day seems to hit you at once, your eyes growing heavy. You and Copia yawn at the same time, then share a laugh. He checks his watch again, letting out another amused huff.

“9:57,” he notes. “That’s a new record, I think.”

“Congrats,” you say, stepping around to give him playful smack on the ass. “We’ll get you a medal.” He smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“How about a raise?” At this you both crack up again, giggling until your sides begin to hurt. After a few deep breaths, you shake your head, taking a few paces back in the direction of camp.

“This project will kill us first.”

Still basking in afterglow, the journey back to the tents is comfortably quiet. The silence remains as the two of you go about packing up all the tools and papers you left around the fire, now completely dead. To be safe, though, Copia grabs a shovel and dumps a load of sand onto the coals, stirring the whole mess around until he’s absolutely sure it’s been smothered. You watch as he does, already dreading the chill the morning will bring. A decadent thought, that of curling up next to him and drifting off to sleep, crosses your mind. Something in your chest flutters, and you quickly stamp out the idea, lest you get carried away. With a sigh, you sling your pack over your shoulder and shuffle towards your tent.

As you’re unzipping the rain-flap, you hear Copia approach from behind. Turning to acknowledge him, you have to stifle a surprised squeak as he cups your cheek and presses his mouth to yours, keeping you there for a good, long while. Even after making him fuck you, and though you’re exhausted, you can’t help but feel at least a little excited by it.

“See you tomorrow,” he says. It is, sadly, bedtime.

“See you tomorrow,” you whisper, already missing him. Unable to help yourself, you lean in for another chaste kiss, relishing in the warmth and softness of his lips. Before it can turn into another, you open the tent the rest of the way, flopping down on your mattress pad. After sealing yourself inside, the last of your energy is spent shucking off your dirty, sweaty clothes and crawling into your sleeping bag. As soon as your eyes shut, you’re asleep. When you wake in the morning, the only dream you can recall is of Copia, gazing up with wonder at a sky full of shooting stars.

You’ll tell the crew, and maybe HR, eventually. For now, though, what you two have is precious. It’s all yours, and you wouldn’t give that up for anything.