#fern the intern

[fernsnailz]

my shop is finally coming back! the snailz shop grand re-re-opening is headed for ya on MONDAY OCT 16TH at 1:00pm EST 💥💥💥

tons of new stuff! old stuff on sale! only shipping to the US, Puerto Rico, and Canada though 🤸

snailzshop.bigcartel.com

[rowrowronnie]

scoutbot identity crisis #true

[koshercosplay]

Her sword was out before the creature could even blink.

"Don't come any closer," she snarled. "I know what you are."

The goblin in front of her bared it's teeth. "And I know what you are, princess."

She gave a start. It knew that about her? Or was it just a petty insult?

"Doesn't matter." She lifted her chin. "I want you out of this kingdom. Your kind don't belong here." It was thrilling to finally put her training to good use. One by one, the goblin menace would finally be over in her lifetime.

The creature tilted its head to the side and began circling her. She swallowed thickly and followed it's path with her sword outstretched. It's pale green skin seemed to shift in the sunlight, and the pointed ears poking through it's thick hair reminded her of toadstools peeking out from the soil beneath their feet.

"The princess finally comes out of the castle. Finally getting her hands dirty for the first time." It stopped moving and swooped into a condescending bow, never taking it's eyes off her face. "Please accept my most heartfelt congratulations," it sneered.

She bristled at the implication of her softness and tried to match the goblins' jeering tone as she responded, "I've been training for this my whole life." She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Then why haven't you killed me yet?" It's yellow eyes glinted.

"Why-" She couldn't believe her ears (which were blissfully rounded, thank you.) "Would you like me to apologize for allowing you a few more seconds of your slimy existence?"

"Slimy?" It ran a finger down the length of a bare arm and made a show of holding it up in mock ignorance and examining it closely, before dropping it to hang loosely at its side. "The fact that you believe that shows me what good your training has done for you."

It held its arms out to either side, as if initiating some bizarre attempt at an embrace.

"Come on, then. Kill me."

Her sword was still pointed at it's chest. It would be an easy kill. But even as she leveled her gaze and prepared to strike, something stopped her. She could already hear her father scolding her for taking so long, but there was something wrong.

Against her better judgment, she dropped her arm and let her sword rest by her side, keeping a firm grip on it, just in case.

"All the goblins I've heard about put up a great fight with our warriors." The goblin had the nerve to roll its eyes. She pressed on. "Why are you being so... so- boring!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, princess. Would you like me to be more entertaining?"

In a flash, the goblin was entirely too close to her, and she could feel it's breath on her face as it closed its hand on hers over the hilt of her sword. And to her immense embarrassment, she froze. Absurdly, she noticed that the goblins' skin was not, in fact, slimy. Interesting.

In another second, the goblin had twisted the sword out of her hand and thrown it halfway across the clearing and took a few steps back.

"Oh no! The poor helpless princess was set upon by a goblin!" It called out loudly, and she cringed. "She couldn't possibly hope to defeat its superior intellect and battle skills!"

She shook herself out of her frozen state and dared to step forward.

"I would thank you to stop talking now," she said coldly.

It appeared to consider her words.

"Yes, you're quite right," it said, mimicking her lofty tone. "You're too boring to bother fighting with."

It turned and began walking away with an infuriating spring in its step, as if she wasn't standing right there, armed to the teeth. She silently drew out the tiny dagger from her right gauntlet and took careful aim. This time she wouldn't hesitate. The goblin paused, and then turned around so quickly that she didn't have time to hide her actions. Caught in the act.

"You're preparing to throw something at me, which will only end in your injury, not my death. Come now, let's part friends." It grinned at the look on her face.

"Don't worry. I know we'll never be friends." It turned away from her and began walking again. "You're too busy trying to kill me."

"What- but-" she spluttered. "Only because you lot are trying to kill us!"

That made it pause again, although this time it didn't say anything. She started walking towards it, closing the distance between them and wondering at how silent it's footsteps had been in comparison to hers. It was still keeping its back to her, either in foolish bravado or sheer confidence in its speed. It turned quickly when she approached some invisible boundary.

"Are we?" It suddenly said, fierce and low.

"Are you... what?" She responded, confused.

"Are we trying to kill you?"

She bit back the urge to make a derisive comment. What was the point of this circular conversation? Time was marching on and she still hadn't killed a goblin.

"Yes. You are. It's been well-documented and you know it."

It looked at her in disbelief.

"You really believe that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" She said defensively. "Everyone knows goblins are vicious thieves who will do anything to snatch a penny. I'll have you know my uncle was killed by a goblin in cold blood!"

The goblin was silent for a moment, yellow eyes searching her brown ones.

"I haven't tried to kill you."

"You are clearly the exception."

"Hm, well I know plenty of goblins who have never gotten into a fight."

She scoffed, this time letting her derision show freely. The goblin seemed insistent on continuing the conversation instead of fighting, which was incredibly frustrating. It wouldn't be honorable to kill it while it refused to fight, although it sure would be easier. She decided to voice her confusion aloud, again.

"Can you tell me why, exactly, you are so determined to avoid fighting me?"

"I heard humans smell so bad, you can tell they're coming from a mile away. I had to see for myself."

She began to get offended, and opened her mouth to give it a piece of her mind, before she realized it was grinning again.

"What's your name?" It asked her, taking her by surprise.

"Fern," she said instinctively, too taken aback to remember she wasn't supposed to answer that question.

"Fern. What a good goblin name." It winked at her. Asshole. "My name is Ash." It started walking away again, but this time, it motioned for her to follow it.

Was she insane? She came out here to kill her first goblin and take her place alongside her mother. She should be wiping its blood off her sword and heading back to the castle in victory, not standing around chatting history and exchanging names with it!

On the other hand... she tilted her head as she took the first few steps to follow the goblin- Ash. No one else that she was aware of had ever been invited somewhere by a goblin. History was littered with failed agreements, betrayals, victories and defeats. But who'd had a conversation with a goblin, been left alive, and then invited somewhere?

As far as she could tell, Ash was leading her along a fairly well-traveled path through the forest, although it was leading her unnervingly far from where she was supposed to be. Someone would come looking for her soon. Most likely Arvit.

She groaned inwardly. Arvit would chastise her, loudly and publicly, if she didn't make it back by nightfall. And she wouldn't be allowed this opportunity again for a long while.

Ash was silent ahead of her, unaware of or uninterested in Fern's movement. She studied the goblin from behind even as she kept careful track of their journey, so that she could lead her soldiers here in the future. It was lean in body, and it's skin had an unhealthy pallor, from what she could see of its bare arms and legs. It's simple tunic and well-worn, knee-length trousers, gave the impression of someone who traveled a lot and lived simply.

She surprised herself by wondering where Ash had gotten her clothes- Wait. Was Ash a woman? It was always so difficult to tell with goblins. And since when did she care anyway? It was a goblin. It's not like they were going to end up best friends. She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders, trying to give off an air of confidence. She was the one in power here. Not the goblin.

Their surroundings slowly changed as they kept walking, going from dense, lush forest to darker, more sinister woods. Fern started jumping at every distant creak or snap of a twig. Something hooted nearby and she nearly dove behind a tree. Ash resolutely kept walking, paying no attention to any of the sounds around them, although it did take the time to point and laugh at Fern when she stumbled and fell into a pool of mud.

Finally, she planted her feet and declared, "I'm not going any further until you tell me what's going on."

Ash stopped and turned around, and deadpanned, "Don't worry, I didn't bring you here to kill you."

Fern snorted. "You can't kill me. You would have already if you'd been able to."

Silence fell between them, and Fern realized that the darkness around them wasn't just from the woods. It was truly past sunset, and she was so screwed.

[disabled-dinos]

It’s been said before but I’ll say it again:

autism is a disability

and while we are disabled by society, we are not only disabled by society. It’s a fairly common sentiment among low support needs autistics that “if society was accommodating, we wouldn’t be disabled.”

I think part of this can just be a step in the learning process. Maybe you just got diagnosed and are still figuring things out and unlearning internalized ableism.

But nah, I’m overstimulated in spring by the black flies and contrasting warm sun and cool wind. I’m overstimulated in summer by the suffocating heat and the feeling of sweating. Fall is the same as spring, as well as what I can do each day being super unpredictable because of the changing weather. Winter is evil and I have to stay inside for almost the whole season.

I’m overwhelmed by the sound of people chewing, a door opening unexpectedly, my own breathing sounds, my clothes smelling slightly different, the difference in water texture at other peoples houses.

Our brains are wired differently. We are inherently disabled (in my experience). And that’s not a bad thing.

Yes some are more disabled than others, but your autism wouldn’t just disappear if you have accommodations. It can get a lot more manageable, yes! But not disappear. And if it does, you probably weren’t autistic in the first place.

Also, the very fact of needing accommodations kind of negates the whole “not disabled” argument lol. Like, “if everything was different, I wouldn’t be disabled!” Sure, if everything was different, maybe we could fly too, but that’s not our reality 😅

[adaptations-polls]

Which version of this do you prefer?

[cuucuula]

HAPPY CLOWN WEEK! 🥳🤡🎪

Apparently it's international clown week so I decided to draw my little guys as clowns :D

minus Tax who would just do juggalo makeup instead

[attapullman]

The nonnies have some fucking steel low hangers this week…

IBFFM is a joy to watch in the works, even if I’m not on her much during the week, and honestly, it costs nothing to stfu and get on with your day. Trashing on someone’s joy doesn’t make you cool.

Loving all the works either in process or published for IBFFM that I have had the joy of reading and this is my petition to make IBFFM an annual celebration!

Fern!

It cost nothing to let others have their fun knowing you can have your fun another time.

The IBFFM fics have been so fun (and dirty 😏) and I’m excited to read the submissions from this past week and reblog!

I second your vote and now the community will decide:

[watercolourferns]

It's International Women's Day but it's not a celebration.

It started out as a socialist remembrance day, with protests and not a set date.

It is feminist in origin, but it's also a socialist remembrance day. The protests the year after it was proposed were all over the world and they all said the same thing: WE WANT EQUALITY.

There were protests to remember the Commune de Paris, there were protests against job sex inequality, about the right to vote, etc.

It wasn't till the UN adopted it that it turned to March 8th as the set date.

It's not a date to celebrate being women and AFAB the way we celebrate mothers or fathers. It's a date to remember all those who have fallen to the violence that is always stalking anyone who has been assigned "WOMAN", be it at birth or later on. It's a date to remember that we're NOWHERE NEAR EQUALITY; that yes, we were advancing leaps and bounds as a society but we're going back just as fast AND NOBODY IS DOING ANYTHING ABOUT IT.

It's a day to remember that the people who want to status quo to continue will do anything, ANYTHING to keep that up.

So don't say "happy women's day". IT'S NOT A HAPPY DAY, it's a day to remind the world that women and AFAB people exist, are valid, deserve the same rights, privileges, and opportunities as men and AMAN people, deserve to be happy, to feel safe, to live fully and not just exist.

If you wanna do something good this day donate to organizations that help women and girls in Gaza get the hygienic products they need, to your local women's shelter, to Native American and other Indigenous organizations that help their women, to Planned Parenthood or any other local clinic with similar values. Teach your girls and AFAB little ones about important women, not just white important women, but BIPOC important women, too. Educate yourself on Intersectionality. Raise awareness about the disappearance of women in your city/country, and get together to create safety plans. Read up on the history of the day for once!

And please, for the love of the Gods... don't buy the women and AFAB people in your life a bouquet of flowers. ASK THEM WHAT THEY NEED FOR THEIR LIVES TO BE BETTER INSTEAD, BE A REAL ALLY.

And yes, when I say women I ALSO MEAN TRANS WOMEN and NONBINARY AFAB, get your terf ass out of here.

[fourthapprentice]

"you were so gifted in school, you never struggled" actually i never learned my multiplication or division tables and i still struggle to do division, i just didn't complain so adults never noticed :)

[busterkeatonsociety]

This Day in Buster…January 3, 1936

Buster Keaton attempts to marry Lona Andre, but another two suitors are desperate to get in on the matrimony.  Interfering parents and a jilted girlfriend push the farce to breaking point.  “Three On A Limb" is released by Educational Pictures.

[no-passaran]

Genocide experts warn that India is about to genocide the Shompen people

Who are the Shompen?

The Shompen are an indigenous culture that lives in the Great Nicobar Island, which is nowadays owned by India. The Shompen and their ancestors are believed to have been living in this island for around 10,000 years. Like other tribes in the nearby islands, the Shompen are isolated from the rest of the world, as they chose to be left alone, with the exception of a few members who occasionally take part in exchanges with foreigners and go on quarantine before returning to their tribe. There are between 100 and 400 Shompen people, who are hunter-gatherers and nomadic agricultors and rely on their island's rainforest for survival.

Why is there risk of genocide?

India has announced a huge construction mega-project that will completely change the Great Nicobar Island to turn it into "the Hong Kong of India".

Nowadays, the island has 8,500 inhabitants, and over 95% of its surface is made up of national parks, protected forests and tribal reserve areas. Much of the island is covered by the Great Nicobar Biosphere Reserve, described by UNESCO as covering “unique and threatened tropical evergreen forest ecosystems. It is home to very rich ecosystems, including 650 species of angiosperms, ferns, gymnosperms, and bryophytes, among others. In terms of fauna, there are over 1800 species, some of which are endemic to this area. It has one of the best-preserved tropical rain forests in the world.”

The Indian project aims to destroy this natural environment to create an international shipping terminal with the capacity to handle 14.2 million TEUs (unit of cargo capacity), an international airport that will handle a peak hour traffic of 4,000 passengers and that will be used as a joint civilian-military airport under the control of the Indian Navy, a gas and solar power plant, a military base, an industrial park, and townships aimed at bringing in tourism, including commercial, industrial and residential zones as well as other tourism-related activities.

This project means the destruction of the island's pristine rainforests, as it involves cutting down over 852,000 trees and endangers the local fauna such as leatherback turtles, saltwater crocodiles, Nicobar crab-eating macaque and migratory birds. The erosion resulting from deforestation will be huge in this highly-seismic area. Experts also warn about the effects that this project will have on local flora and fauna as a result of pollution from the terminal project, coastal surface runoff, ballasts from ships, physical collisions with ships, coastal construction, oil spills, etc.

The indigenous people are not only affected because their environment and food source will be destroyed. On top of this, the demographic change will be a catastrophe for them. After the creation of this project, the Great Nicobar Island -which now has 8,500 inhabitants- will receive a population of 650,000 settlers. Remember that the Shompen and Nicobarese people who live on this island are isolated, which means they do not have an immune system that can resist outsider illnesses. Academics believe they could die of disease if they come in contact with outsiders (think of the arrival of Europeans to the Americas after Christopher Columbus and the way that common European illnesses were lethal for indigenous Americans with no immunization against them).

And on top of all of this, the project might destroy the environment and the indigenous people just to turn out to be useless and sooner or later be abandoned. The naturalist Uday Mondal explains that “after all the destruction, the financial viability of the project remains questionable as all the construction material will have to be shipped to this remote island and it will have to compete with already well-established ports.” However, this project is important to India because they want to use the island as a military and commercial post to stop China's expansion in the region, since the Nicobar islands are located on one of the world's busiest sea routes.

Last year, 70 former government officials and ambassadors wrote to the Indian president saying the project would “virtually destroy the unique ecology of this island and the habitat of vulnerable tribal groups”. India's response has been to say that the indigenous tribes will be relocated "if needed", but that doesn't solve the problem. As a spokesperson for human rights group Survival International said: “The Shompen are nomadic and have clearly defined territories. Four of their semi-permanent settlements are set to be directly devastated by the project, along with their southern hunting and foraging territories. The Shompen will undoubtedly try to move away from the area destroyed, but there will be little space for them to go. To avoid a genocide, this deadly mega-project must be scrapped.”

On 7 February 2024, 39 scholars from 13 countries published an open letter to the Indian president warning that “If the project goes ahead, even in a limited form, we believe it will be a death sentence for the Shompen, tantamount to the international crime of genocide.”

How to help

The NGO Survival International has launched this campaign:

From this site, you just need to add your name and email and you will send an email to India's Tribal Affairs Minister and to the companies currently vying to build the first stage of the project.

Share it with your friends and acquittances and on social media.

Sources:

India’s plan for untouched Nicobar isles will be ‘death sentence’ for isolated tribe, 7 Feb 2024. The Guardian.

‘It will destroy them’: Indian mega-development could cause ‘genocide’ and ‘ecocide’, says charity, 8 Feb 2024. Geographical.

Genocide experts call on India's government to scrap the Great Nicobar mega-project, Feb 2024. Survival International.

The container terminal that could sink the Great Nicobar Island, 20 July 2022. Mongabay.

[Maps] Environmental path cleared for Great Nicobar mega project, 10 Oct 2022. Mongabay.

[trendbuzzin]

New Zealand Kicks off 2023 Women's World Cup with a Stunning Victory Over Norway

Excitement Fills the Air at Eden Park In a spectacular start to the 2023 Women’s World Cup, New Zealand claimed a remarkable 1-0 victory over the 1995 champions, Norway, in their Group A opener at the awe-inspiring Eden Park. The match witnessed an extraordinary turnout, with 42,137 passionate fans, setting a new record for the largest football crowd in New Zealand’s history. The Football Ferns…

[daminouspurity]

New Zealand vs. Vietnam | 2023 Women's World Cup International Friendly | Predictions FIFA 23

[lynaferns]

(TW: Fish gore and internals)

Colorless, human design and some info under the cut.

So, the mer AU.

Some species of mermaids are known to haunt humans when they are hungry, other species don't. Sirens are known to sing (or scream at the sky, if you want to call it that) when a storm is coming.

Sun is inspired by flying fish, and the tongue by a sea butterfly's mouth. (because of the "wing" fins I would consider him a siren, but a lot of mythological creatures are called sirens so idk). He's clingy and an attention hoarder.

Moon is inspired by abyssal fish, lophiiformes (specifically those with antennas) and black dragon fish. He's pretty chill as long as is well fed. He purposely creeps out others with his antennas, and hates Sun's tongue thing.

And Eclipse is inspired by axolotls and leafy sea dragons. They're pretty pacific but won't hesitate in defending themselves when they can't find a way out. Their tail is strong, they can send you flying across the room.

Here is the human design (my selfinsert, Fern) + outfits and a size chart of them long boys.

In this AU Fern is a student at a marine biology university. They conserve and rescue marine life. Some of the rescued especies being the celestial trio, which were assigned under Ferns care with help from another student.

Some images of the three together in one picture that were supposed to be the header of the post but didn't decide which to chose so I'm putting here my 5 favourites. They don't quite fit well 'cuz I drew them separately.

[vampiefemme]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞! ** 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: modern au; ellie moves to a big city to escape the past. she goes to her first lesbian bar, where she meets you.

cw: porn with…a whisper of plot; alcohol use, fingering (e!receiving), strap-on sex, bottom!ellie, slightly sub!ellie, she’s whiny here

Ellie’s never been to a lesbian bar.

It’s surreal - banners of colorful pride flags are strung across the room, some of which she can’t even identify. Distressed and faded posters are plastered on the stone walls, advertising drag shows and queer punk bands with names like The Cranky Dykes and T-Girl Social. Nearly every patron is tatted or pierced, and there’s more platform boots and fishnet clothing than Ellie’s ever seen in one place before. Before she’d moved to the city, Ellie had lit up with excitement at the thought of visiting a lesbian bar. But now, in her worn Harley Davidson tee and a pair of jeans with unintentional rips at the knees, she feels very much out of her depth. 

Steeling her nerves, she internally reminds herself that this is exactly why she’d moved in the first place - she needed new experiences. She needed unfamiliarity. What she’d left back in Texas was her normal, and she planned to build a new normal here. One that was the antithesis of everything she’d known before. 

The bar isn’t completely packed, but she does need to push past dancing, sweaty bodies, girls sucking on each other’s faces, and chatting cliques to get to the edge of the bar, where more clusters of people are calling out drink orders and thrusting wads of cash tips at the bartenders. By some miracle, an empty barstool presents itself after a drunken patron with a mohawk stumbles out of it, and Ellie swoops in to snatch it before someone else does. She sits there for a good few minutes, trying to capture a bartender’s attention, until someone shuffles up beside her and sticks a hand out to wave one over. And, of course, they notice immediately, heading over with a towel slung over their shoulder. Ellie sinks lower into her seat, cheeks burning.

“I’ll have a spicy marg,” the woman beside Ellie says, voice projecting loud enough to hear over the clamor of music and chatter. The bartender nods, then goes to step away, but the woman next to Ellie stops her, speaking with that attention-commanding voice.

“What are you having?” 

The bartender’s gaze shifts to Ellie, still hunched over and beet-red in the face. She flushes impossibly redder when she looks up at the woman who’d just ordered, realizing that the question had been directed at her. 

“Oh,” she blurts, posture straightening. She glances at the woman, anxiety flaring, then back at the bartender. “Um, an old fashioned. Please. Thanks.”

Just as quickly as they’d come, the bartender disappears again, off to pour precisely-measured shots and mix cocktails in shiny silver shakers. Ellie’s hands are in her lap, fiddling restlessly, when she finally forces herself to look up at the woman who’d practically had to order for her. 

You smile at her when she meets your gaze. Though she’s trying to be subtle about it, you can feel the way Ellie drinks in your every feature, eyes flickering over your face, then your body. It’s obvious that she likes what she sees, because she has a hard time looking you in the eye again. 

“Thanks,” she says. “I’ve been trying to order for a while.”

“So I saw,” you respond, but not unkindly. You take a moment to look her over, although you’d already done plenty of that before you’d even approached her - you had seen her from across the bar, looking forlorn, her leg bouncing beneath the edge of the bar as she tried (and failed) to order herself a drink. Her lack of confidence is what piqued your interest; it was hard to believe that someone that gorgeous wasn’t oozing arrogance and self-importance. She’s all lean muscles and shaggy hair, her forearm decorated with a sprawling fern tattoo. You could already imagine yourself running your hands through that hair, kissing the length of her sharp jawline, pulling those narrow hips up against your own. 

At a lesbian bar, a hot girl who couldn’t carry herself with confidence usually meant one of two things: she’s fresh out of a breakup, or she’d never been somewhere like this. You’re determined to find out which of the two applies to her.

“What’s your name? I haven’t seen you here before.” You angle your body to face Ellie, popping your hip out as subtly as you can. 

Ellie, determined to keep her eyes on your face and not the curve of your hip or the delicious sliver of cleavage peeking out of your square-neck top, peers up at you from behind her bangs. “Uh, yeah, I’ve never been. I just moved here. I’m Ellie - what’s your name?”

You tell her your name and she repeats it slowly, like she’s tasting every syllable. “Pretty.”

Your drinks arrive before you can fumble for a response. 

“Spicy marg, old fashioned,” the bartender lists as they slide your drinks over the smooth wood of the bar. Ellie murmurs her thanks and you nod at the bartender before they disappear, your hand curling around the glass. 

“Cheers?” You tip your drink towards Ellie. She clinks her own glass against yours and the two of you take your first sips, the bitterness of the alcohol burning its way down your throat. You feel it settle in your stomach, warm and satisfying. 

“So,” you begin, licking jalapeño and lime-tinged tequila from your lips. Ellie’s eyes follow the movement for a moment before she catches herself and looks away. “Where’d you move from?”

Ellie smiles shyly. You watch her index finger trace the rim of her glass. “Texas.”

“Oh?” One of your brows lifts. “And what made you want to move here, Texas?”

“For one, I’m gay.” 

“Thank you for stating the obvious.”

She lets out a little laugh, and the sound makes you want to grin - you take a sip of your margarita instead. 

“I just… Couldn’t be there anymore,” she elaborates. “It wasn’t right for me. I needed to start fresh.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, letting Ellie’s words sink in. Clearly, something severe enough had happened to make her want to shed her life in Texas like an old skin. And this lesbian bar, filled with every unique kind of queer this city had to offer, was part of this new version of Ellie - the version she’d chosen to build from the ground up. You’re struck by how brave Ellie must be for that. And yeah, maybe she’d struggled to order a drink for herself, but that didn’t take away from her bravery - not when she’d willfully chosen to uproot her life, a decision most people could never follow through with. 

“I’m impressed,” you say honestly. “And I hope the city gives you what you’re looking for.”

The corners of Ellie’s lips twitch, and that pretty blush fights its way onto her cheeks again. You’re about to say something when you hear the first notes of one of your favorite songs thumping through the speakers, a few other bargoers cheering to express their own excitement. 

“Dance with me,” you say to Ellie, reaching forward with your free hand to grab her forearm. She looks up at you like a deer in headlights.

“I can’t dance.”

“Doesn’t matter, just follow my lead. C’mon.”

“I don’t know if—”

“Didn’t you come here to try new things?” You curl your fingers around Ellie’s wrist, and she lets you pull her to her feet. You’ve made a good point, and she doesn’t argue again - just follows you to the dancefloor, where dozens of others are already moving to the beat of the music, hips rolling, heads nodding. The lights pulsate in the vibrant colors of the rainbow, the crowd painted shades of sunset orange, hot pink, deep indigo. You sip your drink and start to dance, turning to face Ellie; she’s gaping at you, unmoving. 

“Come here,” you say, having to shout over the music. Ellie steps closer to you as you move to the rhythm, hips swishing. You’re wearing a pair of flared pants that makes your ass look incredible, and after Ellie finally starts to dance along with you, you turn around to bring your backside closer to her. As if by instinct, Ellie’s arm loops around your waist - she presses her palm into the front of your pelvis, rolls her hips against your ass. You grin, wide and self-satisfied, as you lift your drink to your lips again - only to realize it’s almost gone. You make a mental note to head back to the bar after this song, but for now, you enjoy the last few drops of your margarita, revelling in the feeling of Ellie’s hand, strong on your hip, as she presses ever-closer into you from behind. 

Ellie’s in awe of you. 

The way you’d strolled up beside her at the bar, posture proud, buying Ellie a drink and flirting with her like it was easy, natural. The way you’d let your eyes wander over her figure, not shy at all about the lust in your gaze. The way you’d dragged her to the dancefloor and ground your ass back against her, smelling like lime and tequila and something headier, something distinctly you. 

Now, after two strong drinks and several songs-worth of dancing with you, Ellie’s so turned on she feels like a live wire, sparks erupting from her every nerve. 

On the dancefloor, Ellie had looped her arm around your hips, leaning in so close she could smell the liquor on your breath. You’d needed to fight down every urge to kiss her first - you weren’t even sure if she’d ever kissed another woman before, and you’d already done enough to pull her out of her shell for the night. But Ellie had leaned her forehead against yours, noses brushing, eyes fluttering shut… And your mouths had crashed together in the sort of kiss you’re going to have a very hard time forgetting.

After making out in the crowd like that for god knows how long, you’d invited Ellie back to your apartment. Which brings you to your current predicament: Ellie’s backed up against the front door, your hand under her shirt, fingers dancing over every inch of her deliciously solid abdomen. If Ellie’s inexperienced, she’s doing a fabulous job of pretending she isn’t. But you’re not sure just how innocent she is now, as she moans unabashedly into your mouth, your hand squeezing her tits over her sports bra. 

“Hey,” you breathe, pulling back from the heated kiss you’d been sharing. 

“Mm?” Ellie blinks at you, dazed. You want to ruin her. 

“Is this okay?” You peck at her lips, then her cheek. “We don’t have to… Do anything. Not if you don’t want to.” 

Ellie’s bangs are gorgeously tousled, and she looks at you like a kicked puppy - all round eyes and furrowed brows, worried you’re taking something from her. “But I… I want to.” 

“You sure?” 

Ellie nods. 

“Have you ever been with another woman before?” Your stomach twists at the directness of your own question, but you really want to know. Need to know. A bar hookup might not be the best way for her to pop her cherry - or, at least, her gay cherry. 

Then again, it’s not exactly unheard of in the community.

“Yeah. I have,” Ellie says, her hand reaching out to grab your hip. 

You find yourself wanting to pry, dig deeper for more information, but there’s no real reason for it. She’s not entirely new to this. She wants you. That’s all that really matters, right?

So you take her to your bedroom, let her undress you with shaky, calloused hands, kiss her slow and sweet while she unbuttons her jeans and kicks them aside. You help each other undress until you’re both naked, and then you’re stumbling into bed, your legs straddling Ellie’s hips as you kiss down her neck, stopping to suck pretty purple bruises into the sensitive skin. Ellie makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper, sending another white-hot jolt of arousal through you. Your cunt is spread over her pelvis, and you grind down against her like that, letting out a pleased sound of your own.

 “God, you’re so hot,” Ellie mutters, watching you roll your hips as you kiss down to her chest. She reaches for your tits, squeezes them in her palms. 

“Yeah?” You smile, sharp and wolfish, down at Ellie. She looks at you like she can’t believe this is happening - like she can’t believe you’re real. “Gonna let me fuck you, Ellie?”

She moans at the obscenity of the question, nodding quickly. “Yes, god, please fuck me.”

“Mm,” you hum, “need to get you ready first, baby.”

Ellie’s breathing is ragged, her hips lifting, seeking friction. You climb down her body until you’re settled between her legs, pulling her knees apart to give yourself access to her center. She’s fucking soaked - you bite your lip at the sight of her, clit swollen and puffy, labia shining with arousal. 

You start with one finger, dipping into the wetness pooled at her entrance and spreading it up to her clit, drawing sharp breaths and staggering moans from Ellie’s kiss-bitten lips. Every sound she makes has you yearning to hear more, more. You slide your middle finger into her clenching hole and groan when you feel her walls open up smoothly around the digit. She pulses around you, hot and slick. When you begin pumping your finger in and out of that tight heat, Ellie’s noises become even more drawn-out, even more frantic - you look up at her and find her eyes already on you, dark with lust, a desperate, pleading expression etched onto her face. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby,” you coo at her, revelling in the way her pussy tightens at your words. 

“I–nngh, fuck–I need…” She trails off, jaw clenching. 

You fake-pout at her, puff out your lower lip in faux sympathy. “What is it? What do you need?”

“Need more,” Ellie pants out.

“I can give you more, sweetheart,” you reassure her, “all you had to do was ask.”

So, you give her more. You slip another finger inside of her, press the heel of your hand against the sensitive nub of her clit; your fingers curl upwards in the warmth of her cunt, finding that spongy, sensitive spot that’ll make her see stars. She whines - actually fucking whines, high-pitched and desperate, as if to say yes, right there.

“Shit, oh my god…” Ellie’s hands are clutching the sheets, knuckles blanched. “‘M so close.”

You don’t let up, and it only takes a few more moments of your careful ministrations before Ellie’s falling apart, a mess of jolting hips, strangled gasps, and a rush of wetness. You watch her come undone, wishing you could committ the sight to memory. After, you lick your fingers clean.

While Ellie’s spent and recovering from the height of her orgasm, you shuffle to the side of the bed to reach for your nightstand. You roll open the drawer, rummage around, and return to Ellie’s side with a tiny bottle of lube and your strap, the harness made of powder pink fabric. The brunette sighs contentedly when you lean over to kiss her, swiping her sweat-damp bangs away from her forehead. 

“You taste so good, did you know that?” You press another kiss to the corner of Ellie’s lips, feeling the way they twitch into a smile. 

“I really doubt it,” Ellie says.

You scoff. “Don’t doubt my taste.”

“Mm, okay. Fine. I believe you.”

Fighting your own smile, you move back to sit on your heels, cheeks heating when you notice Ellie’s eyes roaming over your naked body. 

“Need something?” 

Ellie nods, then sits up and pulls you in for another kiss, her hand on the back of your neck. “I want you to really fuck me now.” 

“Oh yeah?” You grin at her, your hands making their way to her tits and smoothing over her pebbled nipples. “Think you should learn some manners, Ellie. How about please?”

Her expression goes soft - eyes rounding, mouth pursing. 

“Please,” she says, and her voice is so sweet, it might rot your teeth. “Please fuck me.”

And who are you to deny her what she needs?

As it turns out, Ellie’s pussy was made to take strap. She’s leaned over, face down in one of your pillows, her ass propped up perfectly to give you access to her cunt. Still soaked from her last orgasm, she hardly needs any lube, the strap pushing into her all the way to the hilt without any resistance; she keens when you’re fully seated inside of her, a sound that makes your own pussy throb with need. Every noise she makes is pure heaven - you wish you could record them all, listen to them when you’re in bed at night with your hand between your thighs. 

“Fuuuuck,” Ellie cries out when you hit that sweet spot with the tip of the strap, her head shifting to lean on one side, allowing you to see the look on her face - the roll of her eyes, the way her lips part to let out each of her gasps and moans. 

“How’s that feel, princess?” You ask as you pound into her from behind; you admire the way her back arches deeper, like she’s encouraging you to fuck into her further and further. 

“S-so good,” Ellie stutters weakly. 

“Yeah? Doing so good for me, baby,” you pant. Every slam of your hips against Ellie’s ass makes her grunt, a pleased little sound, short and needy. 

That tiny grunt turns into an impatient whine when you pull out of her entirely, a lewd, wet noise accompanying the motion. 

“Why’d you stop?” Ellie asks, voice small. She cranes her neck to look back at you and the expression on her face is absolutely pathetic.

You give her ass a playful smack, admiring the way it recoils from the contact of your palm. “Want you to flip over. I need to see you come again, you looked so pretty the first time.” 

She does as instructed - she’s already so good at following directions, you’ve learned. When Ellie’s on her back, her face, neck, and chest tinged red with equal parts arousal and exertion, you lean in and whisper praises to her, lining the strap up to her entrance and pushing into her again. 

“Hold your legs up, sweetheart,” you instruct, pushing her thighs up until they’re folded against her body. She nods, panting, and lifts her hands up to hold her legs in place. You slip deeper into her like this; Ellie goes cross-eyed, lips pursed into a pretty “o” shape as you fuck her senseless. It doesn’t take much longer for her to get close again, and when her legs begin to shake with the effort of holding them up for you, you tell her to relax.

“Play with your clit, hm? I want you to come.” 

Ellie nods. “Y-yeah, I can do that. For you.”

“Just for me?” You grin.

“Mm, just for you.”

Her hand shakes as she brings it between her legs, drawing sloppy circles over her clit with her fingers. You keep fucking her, hips snapping restlessly, every lewd squelch of her cunt making you gush wetter and wetter. But as desperate as you are to come, you’re more focused on Ellie - the way she bites her lip, her entire body tense with her impending orgasm. She warns you before she finally tips over the edge: an endless chant of right there, I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come, oh my god…

You’re not sure how long you lie there on top of Ellie, still buried inside her, before her breathing finally rights itself again. You spend that time kissing all over her face and running your hands through her auburn hair, untangling a few knotted locks in the process. You’re both covered in a thin layer of sweat, bodies glistening, but neither of you seems to mind. Content to lie there together, you rest until Ellie pulls you in for a kiss - one that turns needy and sloppy not long after. 

“Can I taste you?” Ellie asks between kisses, her lips shiny with saliva. She says it with such hope, like she’s not sure what you’ll say. But you’re still drenched between your legs, inner thighs sticky with it. 

“There’s nothing I want more right now,” you confess. 

So Ellie finds a place between your legs, mouth latching to your clit like it’s muscle memory. You curl a fist into her hair and guide her every move, murmuring instructions, which she follows like the good girl she is. The night continues that way - all whispered pleas and tremoring orgasms, tangled limbs and slick-coated fingers, until the two of you finally doze off, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

And Ellie thinks she’s made a good decision, moving here. Trying something new.

[quietduckpond]

Not the age-regression mentally ill but the so-mature-for-your-age mentally ill where I'm a 45-mid-life-crisis-having-year-old in the body of whats mistaken for a fucking 16 year old when actually I'm like 20