#adding my contribution

[queermentaldisaster]

[specialagentartemis]

My feelings about queernormative worlds in SFF is that I can often enjoy it, but I rarely believe it.

Almost everything surrounding gender, sex, and sexuality, and all the different social norms and expectations that different cultures build up around them, derive ultimately from the various realities of sexual activity and pregnancy: who can have it, who can’t, for how long, who does have it, who doesn’t, and what that means for society. I’m not being bioessentialist here, because human bodies are all quite different and different cultures develop different ways to react to that, and rates of and reactions to fertility can be different, and what different sexual and gender roles mean in different cultures and who can and can’t embody them can get extremely different. (Hell, how pregnancy itself even works can be different depending on where you live, what your lifestyle is like, and what your diet consists of!) But like, the reason gender even matters, historically, has been because of reproduction. And the reason reproduction matters, in agricultural societies anyway, has very often been because of property ownership and the need to work on farms.

So I’m totally here for queernormative worlds. But to interest me you have to answer the questions of: okay, but how does your culture work though, and how is kinship structured, and how is reproduction seen, and how is property inheritance understood, and how does gender fit into all this, for me to feel like you’ve actually tried. (And don’t say that there ARE no norms, so no one falls outside of them. There’s no culture where that’s true.)

Sci-fi worlds can get away with this easier than fantasy worlds, imo. Partially because they can posit that it is our future but we’ve gone through all of the Social Justice Struggles already and solved them, but also because technology can really alter all of these topics. The Vorkosigan Saga, for instance, makes it clear that Beta Colony is as gender-egalitarian and free-love as it is because of contraception and uterine replicators, which FULLY decouple “the ability to have children” from “the need for anyone to be pregnant.” This is huge, and the Vorkosigan Saga treats it as appropriately so! Ancillary Justice is another one that thinks a lot about how the genderless culture that decenters romance as a core social organizing principle works. But I read so many low-ish-tech fantasy worlds that are happily queernormative and gender doesn’t matter and they just feel shallow. I don’t believe this world. I don’t dislike it, exactly, I just don’t believe it, I don’t believe people would be like this because you’ve put no effort into imagining a world that works like this makes any sense.

Which is totally fine for people’s D&D games and cute oneshot comics and personal works and such, but when you want me to take your worldbuilding seriously, you’re going to have to convince me! And a lot of it is not convincing.

[monoisbored]

This is for the five (me, included) tsunorris fans out there

For the dice roll thing (rolled a 12 and 1)

[hijjwi]

Đúng

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 1 - Ratiorine Messages Edition

[Pt. 2] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 4] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]

[deepspacenova]

The Space Between Then and Now

Last year, you brought flowers to the cemetery. This year, you're bringing yourself to him. (Or, you're determined to make up for lost time with Caleb on his birthday)

read on ao3

➻➻ ABOUT | 6000 words. caleb x fem!reader.

➻➻ TAGS | MDNI. friends to lovers. banter. love confessions. angst with a happy ending. unresolved romantic tension. smut. porn with feelings.

NOTE: I Happy birthday to our dearest, most devoted and pathetic simp of a man, Caleb! Please enjoy my take on the first time with MC that he desereves xx

You arrived just after the sky had softened into a warm, muted glow, the sunshine filtering through clouds thick with showers that would likely fall in the afternoon.

It was quiet in the way only midday during a Linkon summer could be. The rustle of trees, distant traffic, and the soft whirr of cicadas rising from somewhere nearby.

The walkway curved gently as you made your way inside, taking notice of the details that had changed since you were last here.

On the surface, your surroundings hadn’t changed much. In fact, you were certain that anyone who passed through wouldn’t look twice at the subtle shifts that stood out to you like night and day.

Like death and life.

Or, maybe it was because the change came from you rather than the world around you. Either way, you slowed as you reached the end, hesitating when the light started to shift and wash rays of sunshine over the view ahead.

You kept your gaze steady. Familiar lines, angles, and planes meeting your eye, sharp edges worn smooth in the places your fingers always landed first.

Your breath caught in your throat, just for a second. Then you exhaled.

“Hi, Caleb,” you said quietly.

All that he was in your mind came to a halt as you read his name carved in stone.

You were pulling the door of your storage unit open when your phone buzzed.

You fumbled for your phone, eyes flicking over the bins and boxes around you, all washed in the harsh white glow of the automatic ceiling lights. The melancholy in your chest lifted the moment you saw the name flash across the screen. 

“Calling me before dinner time?” You started checking the top of each box to scan the labels. “Did you get fired or something?”

“That’s the first thing you say to me?” His voice was warm and light and not nearly as bothered as his words. “Not ‘I’m so happy you called, Caleb.’ ‘I’m so glad to hear your beautiful voice, Caleb.’”

You snorted as you took stock of the most important pieces of your young adulthood, tucked away and labeled with faded marker — Art projects. Boyband phase. School binders. “If you ever heard me say something like that you’d be concerned and you know it.”

“Okay, yeah. I would.” A conceding hum as you wound through a few more boxes and headed to your destination. “Still, the first thing you assume when I call is that I'm in trouble?”

“You’re the one who trained me to be suspicious.”

“Not of me.” His indignant chuckle crackled through the receiver. “I’m the only one you shouldn’t have to be suspicious of in the-“

His voice cut off when an echoing thump reverberated through the unit.

Your elbow had accidentally knocked over one of the boxes. All you could do was wince when his concerned voice asked, “What was that?”

You hesitated for half a second, trying to ignore the throb of pain in your arm as you tucked the phone between your shoulder and ear and did your best to cover. “Nothing I’m just… I’m cooking.”

He sucked in a dramatic hiss. “Yikes. Well how about you quit ‘cooking’ while your kitchen is still intact? I'll order you some take out.”

“Ass,” you laughed, both relieved he fell for your cover and offended he was so averse to your cooking. “Joke’s on you, I’ll make you pay for your favorite and eat it in front of you when we video chat later.”

“That’s just cruel.” His pouting tone crackled through the receiver as you crouched in front of a seperate group of boxes taped with care — no names, no labels. These boxes were too important to ever need identifiers. Too important for you to forget their contents.

“Besides,” he continued. “It’s June first now. You should be cuttin' me some slack.”

Opening the first box to reveal a year’s worth of aviation subscription magazines and an old-style compass, you feigned a confused hum. “What’s so important about June?”

The second box contained a few textbooks, a stack of notebooks, paper airplanes in various states of folding, sketches of aircrafts, and a basketball jersey worn thin at the collar.

“Don’t tease, pip-squeak. You know what June is.”

The third box contained the scattered pieces of an FY-26 model aircraft, a graduation cap, an Aerospace Academy Diploma, and sitting right at the top: a DAA acceptance letter.

“Um, summer?”

Something behind your ribcage squeezed when you took in the pile of frames in the last box. They were carefully stacked, edges cushioned with folded T-shirts you’d probably meant to donate. You peeled one back and picked up the top frame, fingertip ghosting over the glass that protected Caleb’s 19-year-old, wind-tousled face. 

“Um, no. How about-“ his voice shifted to a squeaky, child-like pitch, “June is my favorite month of the year because that’s when Caleb was born.”

“That’s it, no cake for you,” you conceded with a groan.

“So there will be cake?”

Your mouth curled into a reluctant grin at the boyish question as you turned over another frame: your arms wrapped around Caleb, who was decked out in a flight uniform in front the hangar of his first life-sized aircraft. “I’m afraid that’s classified information, Caleb.”

“Uh, that's Colonel Caleb. And nothing is classified when it comes to me," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm not above pullin' rank."

"That's really cute, but I outrank you in ways your little Fleet title could never touch."

A pause as he considered his options, and then, wisely, "Fine, you win. Bossy."

He was quiet for a moment after that, and just as you opened your mouth to ask when he’d be leaving work for the day, his voice cut in, lower now, careful. “I just wanted to see if-“ Another pause. And then, quieter, “You know you don't have to plan anything big for me, right? It’s impossible for me not to love anything we do together.”

You picked up another frame, tracing the bridge of his 17-year-old nose, the ghost of his freckles, the slope of his cheek pressed against yours. Every frame was a timestamp of who he used to be, and who you were with him. Each year a heartbeat, stitched to your chest in a pattern only the two of you could ever decode.

Sometimes it was almost jarring, hearing his voice now. Older, sharper, shaped by years that had carved more out of him than you think you'd ever know. But there was something soft buried beneath it, some fragile remnant of the young man in these photos. That hesitation, his unspoken question that lingered in the air, it bridged the gap between the past in your hands and the present on the other end of the line. It made you hopeful that he wanted this birthday to be different, too. To mean something different.

“Yeah, I know,” you said softly, gently tucking the frames back into place and closing the box. “It’s actually going to be just the two of us.”

The roughened sound of his next words traced over you like velvet. "You're all mine, then?"

“Just you and me.”

"Can't wait." 

By the time you'd both finished growing up, you and Caleb could fill entire notebooks with the number of unspoken rules between you.

Some were born out of necessity, others out of pure accident. But by the time you were both well into being teenagers, it seemed that every year a new rule needed to be scribbled in. 

Age 15: Don’t comment on how deep his voice has gotten or how big his muscles are.

Age 16: Don’t barge into each other’s rooms without knocking first, just in case he's changing or...

Age 17: Don’t press your backside into Caleb in the early morning when you sleep over in his bed.

Age 18: Don’t tell him about any confession notes you receive from guys at school.

Age 19: Don’t break out in goosebumps when he touches you, fixes your hair, adjusts your collar, ties your shoes...

You'd both done so well at playing years of mental chess, it wasn't until he was gone, until every part of your soul had crumbled, that the chessboard tipped over, and you started to put the pieces together. Realized what it all meant. That you'd wanted to bend those rules so many times. That every don't you never dared to break could've so easily been rewritten as a do. 

Ever since your work trip to Skyhaven and your subsequent dealings with the Fleet all those months ago, you and Caleb had reached a new sort of limbo. Both settling back into your old rhythm and... not.

Because when he takes you out to lunch while he has business in Linkon, he doesn't sit across from you at the table anymore, he sits next to you with an arm draped across the back of your chair or booth, the softness of his bicep brushing the nape of your neck. 

Because when you take him out with you and your friends, he doesn't order your drink and stand nearby, he's pressed up against your back and holding your drink for you, chin brushing your temple when he holds a conversation.

Because when he sleeps over on a weekend, he doesn't wake you with the smell of cooking breakfast, he sits on your bed, filling it with the scent of juniper and apple and him, brushes your hair aside, and coos a soft, 'Mornin' pip' until you're awake."

It had been taking you back to all the times he visited from the Aerospace Academy when you were in high school. Those long weekends when no one could pry you away from each other's company. 

It was comforting, it was intimate, and just like back then...

You're all mine, then?

It was getting to you.

Every touch, inside joke, every show of affection made your mind spin further and further until you were left with a tangled web. Wondering if these past months were him picking back up where you left off or...

You're all mine, then?

Trying to break the stalemate between you. 

You hated the Farspace Fleet. What they were up to, how they treated people, everything they stood for. And yet you'd reunited with Caleb because of what they did. You'd discovered that while you'd always known Caleb was there for you, you didn't think he understood that you were there for him too. That the thing suspended between you had always been a window, not a mirror.

And honestly? Caleb had held up that one-way mirror so securely, so expertly, that you never even knew it was there until his rain-drenched body collapsed into your arms on a park bench and the glass finally shattered around you.

It made you realize he needed you, even if he didn't want to. Even if he'd convinced himself he couldn't. 

It made you realize that you wanted to be the one to stand beside him, to support and protect him too.

You're all mine, then?

It made you realize you wanted to be all his. 

The thing about Caleb was that he'd always taken the lead when it came to your safety, your well-being. But with almost every other aspect of your relationship, he took your lead. His own happiness, well-being, and feelings a closed book unless you pried it open when he least expected it.

Which meant you were going to need to think up a strategy. A distraction. A temptation so thorough Caleb would grab the book and help you crack it open himself.

Caleb had long ago appointed himself as your knight.

It was time to show him you'd forged yourself into his sword. 

The sky outside had softened into a warm, muted glow, the moon backlighting the clouds thick with showers that never fell that afternoon.

It was quiet in the way only an evening during a Skyhaven summer could be. The sound of rain hitting glass. The soft whirr of planes flying by.

The walkway curved gently as you made your way inside, taking notice of the details that had changed since you were last here.

On the surface, your surroundings hadn’t changed much. In fact, you were certain that anyone who passed through wouldn’t look twice at the subtle shifts that stood out to you like day and night.

Like life and death.

Or, maybe it was because the change came from you rather than the world around you. Either way, you slowed as you reached the end, hesitating when the light started to shift. Moonlight glimmering over the view ahead.

You kept your gaze steady. Familiar lines, angles, and planes meeting your eye, sharp edges worn smooth in the places your fingers always landed first.

Your breath caught in your throat, just for a second. Then you exhaled.

“Hi, Caleb,” you said quietly.

All that he was in your mind came to a halt as he turned to face you with a smile that your lips instinctively mimicked.

Lopsided, unhurried, the kind that deepened the freckles across his cheeks and lit faint creases at the corners of his eyes. You’d seen him only a dozen minutes ago, but you already missed the way he looked at you. Steady, open, like you were still the only thing in the room worth seeing.

“About time you showed up. Any longer and I would've eaten...."

You'd never say that your birthday plans for Caleb had unfolded the way you'd intended them to — you hadn't anticipated a downpour on the way here, for one; had hoped to be the one waiting for him in the kitchen rather than the other way around, for another — but you'd happily admit that you'd donned this iridescent periwinkle slip of satin and ribbons with the exact goal of leaving Caleb staring at you like this. Eyes huge and hungry. Knuckles tightening by his sides. Like you were a gift he was desperate to unwrap. 

"Would've eaten..."

It was the hour where evening surrendered to night and the world quieted. Dinner had been long eaten. Cake frosting had been swiped along cheeks and noses with laughter. You’d taken Caleb on a tour of an apartment that you'd turned into his apartment: his living room and bedroom scattered with every frame from your box, a stack of aviation magazines he needed to catch up on by his coffee table, paper cranes peeking out from nooks and crannies, the worn navy throw you'd always stolen in high school draped across the couch, and, carefully reassembled from fractured pieces and painted to match its memory, the FY-26 model, his first and his favorite.

You'd caught a sort of lost and dazed look in his eyes every once in a while. As if he wasn't sure he could trust what he was seeing. In fact, it was quite similar to his expression now.

"You..."

Your heart high-jumped to your throat and you almost backed out. Almost ran back to the safety of the bathroom down the hall.

But if there was one thing you could count on, it was how well you knew Caleb. So instead, you squared your shoulders, lifted your chin, and held his gaze.

“I, what?” You tried for something nonchalant, something coquettish and casual, but the blood flooding up to your cheeks was a dead giveaway that you were completely out of your element.

His eyes descended upon your dress. “You… Look blue.” His brows pinched in a wince almost instantly, and he raised a hand to run through his hair. “Your dress, I mean.”

“It reminded me of the summer sky. Of June," you replied smoothly, fingers brushing the hem of the satin where it clung to your thigh. “Someone recently informed me it’s my favorite month.”

A spark of something illuminated his eyes as the initial shock wore off. Amusement? Interest? He scanned you again, slower this time and a greedy sort of lust flickered across across his face

“Pip-squeak,” he rasps, as if his voice is caught on something in the back of his throat. “Are you saying this is for me?”

You parted your lips to respond, but this time, you were the one who couldn’t make a sound. All you could do was nod, slow and shaky, your breath catching as your chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven pulls.

A sound escaped him then, a low and guttural, half-whimper, half-groan as he tilted his head back to face the ceiling, as if the sight of you was something he had to physically wrestle himself against. And for a moment, he looked wrecked. Unsteady in a way you rarely got to see. And it was next to impossible to keep your expression from turning satisfied or smug.

But when his gaze dropped back down to you, there was a tightness in his jaw and his features schooled again into the mask he always wore when things felt too close. When he felt too much.

You weren’t going to let him retreat behind it.

So you took a step forward, close enough to feel the heat between you buzz in the air. And slowly, deliberately, you lowered your left shoulder, letting the satin ribbon of your strap slide over the slope of your shoulder until it fell off.

“It’s just you and me,” you reminded, all but erasing the line you were inviting him to cross.

“Is this...?” he trailed off, the disbelief all over his face. And then he moved, so fast you could've mistaken it for teleportation. In the kitchen one breath, and standing in front of you the next, like gravity had dragged him forward before thought could stop him. His jaw was twitching again. “You alright, pip-squeak?”

The words were an excuse. A reassurance. A lifeline he was giving you the option to grab onto. Begging you to say 'no' so he could slither back into his armor and hide behind the mask of the protector again. 

You nodded. “And… I'm all yours." You watched the way his violet-gold eyes turned molten as he remembered his words from a few weeks ago. "If you want?"

Slowly, his fingertip reached out to graze yours before it traced down the slip's hem, down the sensitive skin of your thigh. The first overtly sexual advance he'd ever made. 

It was your turn for a half-whimper as that thought and sensation swirled together and pooled hotly between your legs.

But that little breath was never finished, never fully exhaled. Instead, it was captured, consumed by Caleb when his arm shot out, cupped the back of your neck, and drew you into a deep, bone-crushing kiss. 

Fueled by his urgency you sealed your arms around his neck, molding your body to the shape of his from top to toe as you kissed him back.

Without breaking contact, he hooked a trembling forearm beneath your leg, the other banding around your back, and lifted you. Wrapping you around him. You barely registered the motion until he lowered you both to the couch, Caleb's thighs appearing beneath you and your legs bracketing his sides.

Not once did he stop taking hard, deep pulls of your upper lip, your tongue, your lower lip into his mouth. 

The sensation was everything. He was everything. His palm guiding the angle of your head, his heart thumping against yours, his belt buckle digging into your stomach, his hardness brushing your- 

“Wait," he gasped, gently prying your faces apart for a split second only sigh and find his way back like a magnet.

"Wait." he stamped another kiss onto your lips. Another. "Hold on.”

He tried again, this time tilting his head so his heavy pants and puffy lips were pressed into your forehead instead. A jagged exhale. “Take it easy on a man,” he mumbled weakly.

You tilted your head up as well, looking at him hungrily. Caleb shook his head in wonder, swiped his thumbs over your jaw and kissed you again. 

“I need to... Let me come once, Pip-squeak,” he rasped against your lips. “And I’ll last longer. Will you- is that alright? I’ll make it good. I promise.”

You were sliding off him and onto your knees before he finished asking the question.

You undid his belt buckle in two sharp jerks. Caleb groaned as you pulled at the buttons of his trousers and dragged his underwear down at the same time. His cock popped out, red and swollen, gleaming at the tip.

He pulled your hair from your eyes, watched your mouth stretch around him, start working him back and forth. The silky length of him bumped the back of your throat and the muscle tightened, forcing you to retreat. 

A deep wrinkle slashed across his forehead as you took him again, ready this time. Exhaling to push deeper when he nudged your throat. His eyes shut, and his mouth parted. You’ve never seen him like this, and you struggled to keep your eyes open, your head tilted back, to watch how his body responded to you. 

“‘If I want’,” he stuttered your words back to you, the guttural quality of his voice curling heat around the throbbing center of you. “Can’t believe you would even ask me that.” 

Caleb caressed your hair, drawing back the flyaway strands clinging to your face. "This isn't real. This has to be a dream..." His eyes closed a sliver, and he studied you with that dazed look again.

You twisted your fingers around the base of him, working the head with your mouth to give yourself a break. Flicking the tip with your tongue, you fucked it gently between your lips, lapping at it almost shyly as you felt the other strap of your dress flick down your shoulder.

With no straps to support it, the thin top of your slip folded right over and your breasts were uncovered.

It took you a little too long to realize both his hands were still tangled in your hair and that only his Evol could've done that, but by then the intensity of his gaze on your puckered nipples had arrested your attention. As well as his Adam's apple, which bobbed on a swallow when his hand slid down to cup your chin and scan your face.

"You've always been in my dreams. It didn't matter if I was awake or asleep," he murmured. "Gorgeous, brilliant, clever. My cunning little bird, always ten steps ahead of me." The sentence ended on a breathy chuckle as he looked at the room you'd made into your own little world, acknowledging the fact that you'd maneuvered him right into your own version of paradise. 

"Everything I do always leads back to you." His hips rocked forward, gaining momentum as he started fucking your mouth again, spelling every word of affection and praise you've ever wanted to hear across your cheek, your chest, your inner thighs. He caught his breath between talking. His face flushed. You could see how it was affecting him. "The only constant in my life. The only thing that never fades."

"No one else exists for me but you. This, pip-squeak?” He forced himself down your throat until you gagged. "It's the center of the damn universe, it's... It's you and me."

You moaned around his cock, heat building between your legs, listening to his unhinged monologue. What else could you get him to admit with just the slow glide of your throat?

His eyes squeezed shut as he came with a rough jerk, his hips lurching as his release spilled down your throat, a drop trickling down to your chin. 

You barely had time to react before the hum of his Evol surrounded you, and you were yanked back onto his lap. It was quick and jerky, the master of gravity, untethered and unsteady.

He looked at you with that wonder in his eyes again, and this time, when he kissed you, it was all sex. His tongue licked from your chin into your mouth, tasting every drop of himself. He squeezed your right breast, pinching your nipple before he let go. You cried out, and he repeated it until you were so sensitive that when his lips and teeth replaced his hand, you arched up and gasped a strangled, “Caleb.”

He smiled, unguarded, all teeth. An real smile. You melted. His thumb traced your lower lip tenderly. “I've always been obsessed with you.”

Your laughter turned to breath at the admission, the most oversimplified definition of the bone-deep, soul-deep strands that connected you. 

“I've always loved you." You weren't sure if it was a correction or an addendum as you felt him trace the curve of your neck, shoulder, down your arm, with a possessive palm. Dragging the slip down further so it pooled at the top of your hips.

Caleb’s eyes flicked down immediately. 

You breathed deeper, putting on a bit of a show as your chest sank and swelled upon each inhale. You’d never felt more beautiful. More connected. More seen. 

His fingers stroked your right nipple and he lowered his head, taking the left between his lips. His tongue swirled around the globe, and he teased you with a drag of his teeth. Only letting go when your breath caught on a whimper. 

"But you already knew that, didn't you?” He said, dragging his fingers down your collarbone, between your breasts, to the bottom, most intimate part of your abdomen. "That I was made for you."

“There's no one else for me," you agreed, orbiting closer and closer to desperation with every word that tumbled from his lips. "You're the only one who- I only know what love is because of you.” You pressed down, seeking friction against his thigh. “I need- Touch me. Do something.”

He bunched up your slip, and air rushed out of his lungs. You widened your legs across his lap, inviting him closer, heart racing. 

His violet-gold eyes locked onto yours. “If I wake up to find this is all a dream, I’m going to be furious."

Your laugh morphed into a moan as his middle finger grazed your wetness, sliding straight down your middle. He leaned forward to guide your back onto the couch, then rose back up to watch your naked, dripping center writhe against his half-clothed thighs.

“Please,” you begged, shivering just from his touch.

“Like this?” he asked, sliding himself back to devour the space between your legs with his mouth. 

You moaned, bracing one foot between his shoulder blades and the other on the rug below, lifting yourself up as Caleb pressed his mouth down.

You built a rhythm, tilting your hips until his tongue touched that point on your clit that made your eyes roll back. You gyrated your hips so he kept teasing it, harder and faster, back and forth, up and down. The perfect point of pressure, over and over, until you were trembling between his hands while he held you.

A pillow dug into your squirming shoulders, your left foot hung awkwardly over the couch, your toes grappled for stability. But you barely registered any of that as the pressure gathering behind your belly intensified.

“Yes, yes,” You pleaded. “I need- I’m so—"

You went silent as your entire body tensed up. 

Caleb sucked harder as you rode your orgasm. And when you started shaking from the sensitivity, he lifted your hips higher, your whole body levitating from the couch as he positioned you mid-air with his Evol, a more comfortable angle for him to spread your ass cheeks apart and drag his tongue between them. 

“Oh,” your gasp pitched into a breathy sort of squeal at the sensation.

“Perfect,” Caleb’s voice had become a permanent, deep rasp as your mind and body continued to fly, free to focus on all your senses without any tethers. Safe to lose all abandon in the space he carved for you between the earth and the heavens. “Every part of you.” 

As your blurred gaze tried to focus on the ceiling above you, you heard movement and the rustle of fabric before you felt a hot, toned chest press into yours, shaky breaths and puffy lips against the side of your neck, and two strong arms band around your back and thigh. One hand curled around the nape of your neck, the other possessively cupping your sex.

He sank with you until the backs of your thighs and elbows rested on the pilled carpet. His knees and forearms bracketing yours in a warm embrace, anchoring you beneath him as the support of his Evol dissipated and he continued to torture you with the rub of his calloused palm concentrated in small, quick movements against your clit.

Your thighs quaked so hard you could barely feel them, legs closing together on instinct.

"What do you think you're doing?" He cooed, prying them apart forcefully. Caleb's lips hovered, bumping against yours with every spoken word. "Let me enjoy this. Let me savor you."

You could only gasp as he drove his fingers into you, stretching you open for him a fraction more with each stroke. He worked your harder, faster, flicking your clit with his thumb every time he penetrated you. 

"Sweet," he whispered, capturing your tongue with his lips and slowly releasing it on a suck.

Your teeth sank into his bottom lip before he could pull away, dragging him back to you.

"Sour," he growled as you threw your head back, the sensation between your legs starting to close in on you again.

"Delicious." He fused his lips to yours once more. Kissing you once, twice, three times. You squeezed your eyes shut so hard, spots of light splashed behind your eyelids as he continued to torture you with the steady glide of his fingers.

You were so wet, Caleb’s fingers moved with unfettered access as you approached your peak. You cried out for mercy as he held his fingers inside of you, hooked and pressing on that point that made you see stars.

“Look at you,” he awed, his voice a distant murmur, locked beyond the gates of your internal pleasure. "I've always been able to hold myself back. Every time you looked at me... with those eyes…”

You clenched around him so tightly, your entire body coiled up, as if struck by lightning. 

And then you imploded. 

A rush of liquid released from between your legs as your body trembled through its release. You panted, floating up in the clouds, your mind filled with fog, drifting somewhere above your body. The only semblance of focus you could muster was on the sound of your name and the self-condemning words that tumbled like confessed sins from lips that scattered trails of kisses from your throat to your ribcage.

"I've always been strong enough..."

“Make it too easy to forget who I’m supposed to be... what I’m supposed to do…”

"... don't know if I can protect you anymore...”

His body seemed to be separated from his mind as he continued to stroke and hold you through it, murmuring vulnerable words against your damp skin. Your hands caressed over every part of him you could reach, his hair, the nape of his neck, his biceps, his chest, his lower back, his backside and back up again.

You wondered how long he'd been holding this in, how long it had been since he'd last been able to truly confide in someone, as you waited for your quaking body to calm and your senses to sharpen again. 

"Caleb," you said, quiet but firm. Your palms found their way to his cheeks and brought his eyes to meet your open gaze. "You've never needed to be anything to deserve my love for you."

His nostrils flared and his jaw tightened, like he was shielding himself from your words. Like he couldn't allow himself to believe you.

You decided to give him no other choice. Pressing his hips down with one of your palms, you lined him up against you and guided his cock into you with the other.

"Gods," Caleb groaned in surrender, his face filling with pleasure, forehead falling against yours.

"You don't need to earn a place in my life. You deserve to tell me what you want and how you feel. You deserve to have friends." Tilting your hips up and down as you moved yourself on him, you kept your words steady. As raw and honest as the feeling of him inside you. "You deserve to be home."

"Can't resist you, Pips." His hand hooked beneath your thigh, wrapping it around him and taking over from a different angle. Chanting more confessions with every thrust. "All I ever wanted... was to give you everything. For your life to be safe… and happy."

His eyes were pools of melted gold and amethyst, each jewel an offering to you as he studied you in unwavering worship. He moved back and forth, gliding faster and faster, and when you thought he couldn’t possibly get any closer, he dragged his hips backwards and thrust again.

"Only if you're in it," you whimpered, realizing he was going to make you come again. 

"Tell me you don't want me." Caleb kissed your cheekbone, your eyelid. Pressed his nose to your temple and whispered in your ear, “Tell me to stop.”

When you remained silent, he fucked you harder. Your back arched up into the air and Caleb circled his arms behind you to sit you up, still fully intertwined. He sat back on his knees and dropped you onto his lap, the force of gravity deepening your connection. 

Your thighs landed on either side of Caleb’s, stretched wide to accommodate his muscled thighs. His face was red, his hair stuck up in every direction, beads of sweat gleaming on his arms and chest. 

“Need you... need you..." He sped up, pulsing up into you.

"It's okay," you whispered, basking in the admission.

You held him, your mouths brushing when he finally broke apart, penetrating deeper than you’d ever experienced before. Like all that had held him back was you accepting that dark, desperate thing within him.

You braced yourself on his shoulders, sinking your nails deep so you didn’t fall as you shuddered through one last small release, insides pulsing as Caleb's release trickled down your thigh. 

You both collapsed onto the floor, breathless. 

"I don't know if I can let you go now," he muttered, like a realization. Like an apology. 

Your pulse stuttered in your ears, loud as thunder, and still not louder than the hush between you, the silence of something you'd finally broken open.

You turned your face to him, cheek resting against the carpet where the cool helped anchor the fire still licking under your skin. “Then don’t, dummy,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes with an amused grin.

The shock of the insult did exactly what you'd intended, snapping him right back to that life-long tether between you. 

"Excuse me?" Caleb let out a breathless chuckle, the sound low and disbelieving. "Would a dummy know how to make you come three times?"

"Two and a half," you corrected, shifting to lay your head on his chest. Caleb’s arm immediately curled tightly around you.

“If you're coherent enough to round down, I definitely owe you another,” he muttered, giving your side a playful pinch.

A quiet silence settled between you, comfortable, intimate. Nothing but the soothing sound of the summer's endless rain pattering against the windows. 

“Don’t let me go,” you said again, this time in a soft, sleepy voice as you nestled into his neck. “I don’t want you to.”

[northstarscowboyhat]

Can't help but imagine that in the Lucky Clover AU, if Frisk were to manage to sneak away and end up befriending Undyne and the skelebros whilst everyone in the Dunes is probably having a panic attack (maybe Flowey caused a distraction or something, like some scaffolding collapsing causing everyone to focus on figuring out how that happened, giving Frisk the ability to sneak away), by the time Martlet finds them they've already managed to make the Underground a bit safer for at least themself.

Doesn't stop them from being grounded though-

That's exactly the plot set up I had in mind for this AU!

Even though Frisk is under very strict rules by Clover to not leave the Dunes without them, Frisk is constantly wandering off (perhaps influenced by a certain someone...) and exploring the other parts of the Underground. This is how Frisk eventually meets Papyrus, Sans, Undyne, Alphys, and others! And yes, Frisk is always grounded by Clover once they're eventually found and brought home. Doesn't stop them from sneaking out again, though. Clover is getting a taste of their own medicine trying to control this kid LOL.

[loadinghellsing]

[estebunny]

esteban ocon and ollie bearman at australian gp fan forum challenge

via Haas try the human knot challenge

[smimon]

Merry Christmas! Here is some silly art I didn't post yet 🧡

[littlelonelytree]

This is that Almost Christmas Guy!

[autumnblooms]

“Just colleagues…friends…nothing more”

I’m back with more midwest emo ghouls, this time with some Dew/Aeon cuddling, possibly after their first time together. Both feeling so at peace after finally breaking the tension that’s been lingering for months, but also laughing at themselves for the cliche of falling for their coworker and trying not to think about what they’ll tell Rain or how dynamics might change at Mass

[unloneliest]

tmg spreadsheet update:

format column has no blanks left! does need to be standardized in how i wrote things down, though, and reviewed, because i'm pretty sure i made it before at least one re-release that included tapes.

added 15 songs (mostly covers, 11 of which are covers that saw official release, two of which are demos, one of which is from the sir arne's treasure/sweden live performance. the last song is cover adjacent). they're not added to the public copy of my spreadsheet yet, because all i've added is their names + cover status, details coming later.

figured out where i want to start cross-referencing my sheet with others' lists of tmg songs (annotated tmg, then the wiki, then a couple other spreadsheets that were posted to the reddit and that i've saved for this express purpose)

once i finish that? that means i get to play with the other ideas i've been meaning to add to the spreadsheet! new tabs...

[wisteriagoesvroom]

they kinda ate this one thing…

[potato-lord-but-not]

Your art made me realise I’m probably transmasc lmao

NO FUCKING WAY LETS GOOOOO

[bixels]

What did/do you like about Pharah?

Uh, gameplay-wise, I really love characters in shooters who rely on three-dimensional movement techs. Chaining together hover and jump to stay in the air for as long as possible and keep momentum is so satisfying, and picking enemies off from the sky made me feel like a bird of prey. I was a good Pharah main.

Story-wise, there unfortunately isn't much to canonically go off because Pharah is so underutilized and neglected. Her personality's pretty boilerplate "heroic hero" (she's literally inspired by Captain America).

But it's the crumbs/bits and pieces that I really latched onto. Pharah's a confirmed lesbian; her short story with Baptiste implies she harbors a crush on Mercy (fucking thank you.). She's biracial Egyptian/First Nations. She has major mommy issues, having grown up both admiring and resenting Ana. She's the bridge between Old Overwatch, inspired by the idealized heroes who surrounded her childhood, and New Overwatch. She's one of the only inter-generational characters in the cast; someone whose experiences span the gap, which is why I seriously believe Pharah would make a great main character.

There isn't much to go off of, though; she's a very uncomplicated character (she's a soldier for a private military corporation, lol.). But that just means she's a blank slate character, so I've seen fanfic writers run wild and create some really interesting takes on her. My favorite interpretation of her's a dense, herbo gym-bro type (a lot of her liens are about work outs, exercising, and playing sports) who's easily excitable under her seemingly self-serious, armored visage. We see how she tends to gloat and hype herself up when she's on a streak too, so Pharah definitely has a competitive and boastful side under her more professional and militant performance.

Now Mercy? Mercy is a real complex character.