#i love you ahhhhh

[fear-is-truth]

OH MY GOD HAPPY BIRTHDAY !! I DIDNT EVEN SEE UNTIL NOW, I’M SO SORRY !!! I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I HOPE YOU HAVE THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER. YOU ARE SO, SO LOVED AND TALENTED AND JUST OVERALL AN AMAZING HUMAN BEING. I CANT IMAGINE SEEING ANYONE BETTER ON MY DASH 🖤 XOXO

THANK YOU THANK YOU FAYE MY BELOVED ! this genuinely made me wanna tear up omg, ‘m alone in my dorm room blasting mcr and trying not to feel too sad & miss my family but this is so so so sweet, you really made my day 🥹🤍

[honestlyitsjustsam]

certified third wheel

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

happy pride month beautiful people ‼️

[catsgut]

big bro gojo and his friend bulling you

WOAHHHHHHHHHHH

warnings : incest, bullying, nonconsensual pictures, spit hehe as always

ok honestly i feel like gojo would be meaner with his words whereas geto would be more discreet about it? i can see them both doing things like tripping you and yanking your hair, but they both have their own special ways of taunting you.

gojo loves seeing his baby sis get red in the face when he comments on your looks, telling you obviously he was the better looking sibling. he likes to make you feel ashamed of your own body, loving the way you hide it with baggy clothes. his harsh words cut deep, but his best friend’s sweet ones cut deeper.

geto has always been somewhat kind to you, making you feel funny between your legs when he compliments your hair. it caught you off guard the first time he put his foot out in front of you to watch you fall in front of everyone at school. he just stood there with a smile, offering a hand to help you up.

you didn’t know whether or not he was being serious, but you took his hand and stood. “your panties are showing,” he snickered gesturing to your skirt that was now tucked into the waistband of your underwear. how did that happen?

but what they both loved the most was fucking with you when you had no idea. gojo mostly enjoyed snapping pictures of you when you were bending over, showering, or sleeping on the couch. he would immediately send them to geto knowing they would both end up jerking off to them. geto on the other does things like spitting in your drink when you aren’t looking, smiling as he watches you gulp down his thick spit. he also likes to steal your panties, cumming on them and sending pictures to your brother.

[erwinsvow]

we all know rafe is rough in bed but there’s something so heart warming about rafe making love to shy ready for the first time 🥲

"how come you're being so nice?" you question from your position. rafe heaves out a breath, trying not to collapse all of his body weight on top of you, finding it incredibly hard not to do so. you're pretty to the point of distraction, sweet to the point of insanity.

"m'always nice." rafe says, appreciating the way you try to squirm even when you're pinned in place. your eyes flutter shut when you feel his breath on your skin.

he likes you like this—though you're almost always soft and compliant, this is special. this feels different.

"know what i mean rafey." the words are breathed out, chest heaving and eyes clamped shut. he knows why—you get too flustered if you catch the way he's looking at you right now.

"no, i don't. why don't you explain, hm?"

you almost want to cry. you know what he's doing, know he's doing it on purpose. you're minutes away from getting what you've been waiting for patiently. you want rafe and he wants you, but like always, he's making it difficult. you wish you could find the words to ask for it, think straight for long enough to get rafe to give in already.

but rafe is a tease, and he likes making you wait and watching you in the process. skin hot to the touch, shuddery breaths, wet eyes. you look up at rafe and all the air rushes out of your lungs.

"i thought you'd be mean about it. rough." rafe is so fucked—even the word leaving your mouth feels wrong to him. "you're being so nice."

"maybe you bring it outta me." you think you've lost the last of your senses when he says that. "y'ready?" he leans in to press a kiss to your lips and your eyes close again. still closed, you reply.

"i've been ready since i met you."

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

#Name A Better Childhood Friends To Lovers Glow Up I'll Wait

[milkywayes]

says cheese, doesn't know what cheese is

[thedragonagelesbian]

say more oh please please PLEASE say more davrin what does sacredness mean to you, what does it mean for you to understand your obligations as a grey warden through the prism of dalish faith, do you pray to andruil to guide your blade as you hunt these monsters down, to elgar'nan to scorch the blight from this world and to mythal to protect its victims, talk to me about the holiness of duty and sacrifice and and and and-----

[kikker-oma]

I made another thing based off of your whumptober art :)

This one in particular:

The old man sat on a log near the crackling campfire, awake for his watch and he had set his eye on someone in particular who had seemed...off. The vet was tossing and turning in his bedroll, eyes squeezed shut when he could see his face, but it wasn't relaxed like when he was asleep. He eventually crept down and whispered, "Vet?"

The veteran's eyes opened slightly, and the old man just noticed the bags under his eyes. "Yeah?" He replied in a whisper.

"I noticed you hadn't gone to sleep yet. It's third watch."

Legend groaned. "I haven't been able to fall asleep for a while, but I tried everything I could. Nothing to do about it."

That was worrying.

"Are you sure? I know a remedy, that you most likely haven't tried."

"Go for it, old man, I'll do anything at this point."

He pulled out the ocarina, and played the Song of Healing, closing his eyes to let the soothing melody reach the vet's waiting ears. He nearly fell asleep himself but finished the tune and opened his eyes. The veteran had his eyes closed and though he wasn't quite asleep yet, Time smiled, hoping that this would do the trick and did a quick patrol.

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

The old man noticed things. From the vet's stumbling and sloppiness during battle, to mess ups with conversations and answers. His seemingly random mood swings which seemed quite unusual for him. He had confessed that the song didn't do anything and for literal magic to not work, well, Time was more than confused. He had kept it to himself because the veteran pleaded with him to not worry the others.

One night he had second watch, and the vet had somehow ended up with first. He slept peacefully until he woke up and realized it was his turn for watch, and he hadn't been woken up by someone else. (His internal clock told him it was approximately halfway into second watch.) So he got up immediately, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and what he saw shook him.

The vet was trembling on his knees, and when the old man rushed to talk he noticed the expression on his face. There were tears pouring down his face, and his eyes were barely open, staring off into space. The old man noticed that the veteran's hands were shaking even more, arms wrapped around air. "Veteran?" Time spoke loudly. "Link?"

When he got no response, he got down on his knees in front of Legend and took his arms, repeating his name. "Uncle?" Legend mumbled wearily. "What're you doin'?"

"I need you to stay here, I'm going to go find help."

"Nnnooo, don't leave me," Legend gasped deliriously. "If you go to th' castle..."

"I'm not going to the castle," Time tried to reassure. "I just need you to stay with me, okay?"

"M'kay."

He whistled sharply, getting everyone up because this situation was getting dire and he needed help. "What's going on?" The captain questioned, voice a bit frantic.

"Our veteran. He needs help."

They were at his side instantly. "'ncle who're these people," the vet slurred, still staring off into nothing.

"Is he sick?" Sky frowned.

"I don't think he's been sleeping, at all recently," Time worried. "He said he tried everything but still couldn't sleep."

"I'm not trained for this stuff, I'm afraid," Warriors shook his head. "Traveller?"

"All I know how to do is magic," The traveller replied and shrugged looking downcast at the fact.

"Oh!" Wind snapped his fingers. "Someone on Outset had a similar problem. It was because they were really stressed and they fell asleep once they were more relaxed."

"Stress? That seems plausible," Warriors nodded.

"Link," Time uttered, catching the veteran's slow attention. "Tell me, are you stressed about anything? Worried?"

"I mean, 's a quest, Uncle, of course I'm going to be stressed sometimes."

"I know, but right now, what's troubling you specifically?"

"You're always so kind," Legend muttered after a long moment.

"This isn't going anywhere," Four whispered.

"Uncle, don't die."

Time swallowed concern for that statement, said with desperation and he looked helplessly at the rest of them. What could they really do? Why couldn't he figure this out? The chain looked at them as a leader, so why was he feeling so helpless right now? Why couldn't he help one of his boys?

Then there was one sentence that nearly drove the old man to his knees.

"If you die, Grandma Malon is gonna kill me...she already lost th' Hero 'f Time, and you're just as important. Don' leave me to save the world like he did."

THAT LAST LINE OMGGGGGGGG

LOOOOOORE!!

SECRETS SPILLED!!

THE REALIZATIONS TO FOLLOW!! AAAAAAGGHHHGGSHXJSBAHAIA

The Ocarina was such a good try, poor boys just don't know how they can deal with this sweet little sleep deprived man🥺

Gosh sleep deprivation is no joke, it's brutal for real

Thank you so much for writing this Uni! Your writing is a treasure as always❤️❤️❤️

[spearxwind]

IT'S FINALLY DONE! :D Here's an 8 page comic of one of the very very beginning scenes of The Hollowridge Disaster: the moment Knife and Adri meet Dianne.

Having done this comic means a lot to me for a myriad of reasons, but the main ones are that I really wanted to get better at paneling and do more interesting texture work. And, this is also both a homage to my older HR comics, and my (successful!) attempt at getting back into making comics for this story, so it truly feels like I'm in my prime with it and it's finally somewhere that I am immensely proud of :] so please enjoy this scene in quite literally all it's glory!

[Disclaimer: this is a standalone scene (of a larger story), but it's not the beginning of a long form comic. Currently I have no plans of doing that, but I would like to do more of these short ones! ]

[fear-is-truth]

I know you have a lot of school stuff to do but please please please please please take a little break to rest! It’ll make you feel a bit better and I hope you get better soon, stomachaches are no fun at all <3 love ya

ahhhh thank you for checking on me im feeling much better now! took some antiemetic medicine and accidentally fell asleep for a couple of hours so we all good now!! <3

[khattikeri]

thinking forever and ever about how wei wuxian ignores the homophobia that jin guangyao tries to weaponize against him by shamelessly loudly extremely publicly declaring at guanyin temple with dozens of witnesses that he's in love with and wanted to have sex with lan wangji.

SPECIFICALLY the inclusion of sex. their society already hates any deviance, but wei wuxian doesn't cave to their sensibilities! he doesn't back off and pretend that their closeness is chaste, or similar to sworn brotherhood.

wei wuxian doesn't try to deflect or downplay for the sake of either of their reputations. wei wuxian says with his entire chest, i wanted to fuck him and i regret not fucking him last night, and i don't give a shit what you think about it.

[color-beyond-lines]

me: attempting to watch 8 currently airing series

also me: watchlist of 20+ series

still me: hits play on every new series that starts

[mayhemspreadingguy]

@magnusbae, not expecting I'd follow through, suggested to sketch Anakin but with cat fangs... Things got out of hand.

Also, look! Magnusbae gifted me with a most lovely fic inspired by my art (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) (fic under the cut, 3,800+ words).

That’s it. Anakin had resisted long enough. 

All through morning, noon and even dinner. He had done his Katas, had finished his chores, even went through his studies, all without so much as a single comment. He deserves to be commended personally by Master Yoda for being an exemplary Jedi. He deserves to be knighted right this moment seeing how he never even mentioned just how force karked awful his Master’s hair looked like for the past week. Sticking in all directions, it grows in uneven patches, the addition of a beard is somehow making his elegant Master look like a beggar from the streets and that, that is intolerable. 

Anakin growls quietly, muscles tense. He knows his Master most likely can feel him staring holes through him, and yet he simply continues reading his datapad, not asking nor looking, radiating calm in the force. Anakin wonders if he could tidy that mess with the power of thought alone. Would that be considered a frivolous use of the force? Even if done in the service of the republic? After all, his Master’s good looks are the cornerstone of the… 

Obi-Wan scratches at the back of his head, clearly bothered and Anakin can’t tolerate this anymore, cannot accept this anymore. His tongue is itching something fierce, his hands are sweating, he cannot sit still like there’s fire ants filling his pants and crawling up his spine. He cannot tolerate this. If not for himself, he must do this for his Master. If not for his Master, then for the order. If not for the order, then for the Galaxy. If not for the Galaxy, then for the Force itself. For he can swear by all that he holds dear that the Force itself is embarrassed by his Master being so unkempt, so ungroomed. 

Unacceptable. This is absolutely unacceptable. His Master has to always look neat and nice and put together, smelling fresh and looking proper. That’s the only right way for his Master to be. Anakin will not stand for it being any other way. He will not. He will make it right. 

His Master ignores the first lick. He often does that, pretends to not notice in the hopes of Anakin stopping after catching himself at his instincts. Oftentimes it works. Oftentimes it is an accident. But not this time. This time it’s very much on purpose and very much intended to continue until Anakin is satisfied with the results. All Anakin needs is for his Master to continue pretending to not notice long enough for him to fix this mess. 

Two more licks, lower neck up the scratchy beard and—

“Anakin—” his Master stops pretending so suddenly that Anakin’s tongue moves over his jawline and across the beard in a way that tickles funny. Anakin likes how it feels, rough and interesting, makes him curious about how it’ll feel like to lick across the jawline, where the beard is the thickest.

Knowing he does not have much time before his Master attempts to stop him altogether, Anakin leans in with renewed urgency, tongue ready, mouth starting to water— “Anakin, stop!” a strong hand pushes against his shoulder, moving him a distance away without being as rough as to push. 

“Mrrphh!” Anakin protests, pushing against the hand but not fighting it actively. His Master can be so bossy when he gets like this, so unreasonable. The only way to win is to use his words, otherwise his Master might just walk off and hide in his rooms instead. Or worse, go meditate in the halls, where everyone will see this shameful disaster.

“You need the grooming, Master!” Anakin starts with the foundation and heart of his objection. His Master always teaches that it’s important to be able to pinpoint the problem early on and address it quickly so as to not let it fester and become bigger than it must be. Granted his Master spoke of interpersonal disputes however it absolutely does apply here. His Master simply cannot deny this reasoning, ergo, will not be able to dispute it as untrue. “So just let me!” Anakin adds, before his Master could somehow find a way to object.

Can’t his Master see that Anakin is offering him a service? Out of the kindness of his heart, no less. Him enjoying the way his Master’s flavor sits on his tongue, the way it makes all the small hairs on his body stand on end, how it fills him with excitement— His Master’s scent, rich and spiced and safe— how he favors it above all else even when the exotic teas make him sneeze and sneeze— the way a single point of contact would narrow his senses into a single point of focus, clear his mind of all worries— the way his vision relaxes, the way his nostrils flare and he inhales and inhales and inhales— the way his heartbeat peaks and then slows, the way his mouth goes dry and he feels thirsty, hungry even— all that, all that has nothing to do with his altruistic motivations. He’s just looking out for his Master. Obviously, duh. 

“Master.” He can hear his own voice, can hear how it takes a whiny note his Master often teases him for. It’s hard to care when he has a goal bigger than his own ego. “Just let me.” He demands, he can hear it and he still doesn’t stop himself from reaching for his Master’s flowing robes, claws catching on the material and making him shudder. Maybe he does need trimming just like his Master insists each time they spar. Maybe Anakin will allow it, if his Master is good and allows him this. Maybe he’d even let his Master groom him too.

The bewilderment in the force clues Anakin on the fact that yes, maybe he did forget to shield, again. He huffs through his nose, wrinkling it. He really doesn’t know what the big deal with this is, doesn’t understand the obsession everyone and especially his Master, has with hiding every single urge and instinct and thought they have. It’s not like he thinks anything he wouldn’t also say out loud. Maybe if the Jedi used less of those shields, it would have been much easier to communicate with them, to bond with them, and maybe then he’d feel less like an outsider, like an odd bird out of its cage.

“Oh Anakin..” Obi-Wan sighs, the tension loosening from his hold against his shoulder, rather than scolding, there’s the hints of the sadness his Master expresses each time Anakin feels alienated in this place. It is not his fault no one understands him, it is not his fault he is different than everyone. 

“Master.” Anakin chirps back, rolling his eyes. His Master has the oddest of tendencies to get hung up on the most particular of topics. Anakin not having enough friends, per his Master’s opinion, is one such topic. Nevermind the fact that Anakin had never seen his Master ever share a true conversation with a single person. Other than himself. Of course. His Master does talk to him.

His Master will get fixated on him instead of thinking about himself and nag him to half death. ‘Anakin get more friends’ and ‘Anakin don’t spread the droid parts all across the quarters’ and ‘Anakin I’m a grown man I can groom myself.’ And while some of those things might be true, obviously, the last one is not. “You look like a mess.” Anakin says it to his face, because he and his Master are real friends.

“Thank you Padawan.” His Master answer, no longer sounding sad, instead his voice is dripping with sarcasm. Anakin doesn’t like it, but he supposes it’s better than sadness. “I do not recall asking for your no doubt impeccable sense of— Ahnakin—!” his ranting stops mid warming up when Anakin uses the opening to dart forward and lick him again, from the lowest exposed spot of his neck, up the smooth skin, his rough tongue making a satisfying ‘shh’ sound as it catches at the hair of the beard and smooths it up with his lick. The flavor is… is… 

Obi-Wan had used some sort of balm… some sort of synthetic musk that makes Anakin’s brain swim funny and eyes to close and mouth to water even more. He has to swallow down the saliva lest he drool like a hungry Tooka. It’s hard not to, when his Master is so, so, so karkin yummy. He slams his shields up with a clumsy thud in the force, but maybe just a moment too late to cover up that last thought.

“Anakin!” his Master sounds properly scandalized, voice raising to a tone that always makes Anakin’s ears ring uncomfortably and the following lecturing tone is no better. “Cease this nonsense immediately, you must not—" 

Anakin licks again. The side of his neck and up to the point where skin meets ear. “Master.” He says there, voice dropping into a purr that morphs into a warning growl he didn’t even think of making, there’s no aggression, only the frustrated warning to not stop him in the middle of something so damn important. Grooming, is important. More than Katas or studies or meditations. Maybe even more than sparring. And Anakin loves sparring. 

All Anakin wants is for his Master to sit quietly and let him take care of him. The way he ought to, the way he was meant to do. It’s his job, after all, is it not? He is Obi-Wan’s Padawan, it’s only natural he would tend to his Master, that he would care for him, that he would help him. That just makes sense. That rings true in the force and that’s all Anakin needs to know.

"I will.” He declares, it is no longer a request nor a plea, it is a declaration of intentions. A declaration of intent. He presses his nose at the soft skin under his Master’s ear and inhales, deeply, the scent making him Master-stupid so he says what’s on his mind with no filters, with no thought. “Unless you hate me.” His voice drops softer, he can’t breath, having inhaled too much of the strongest drug known to him. “Then I won’t” he trembles, he waits, if his Master rejects him, if he does hate him for his care, he will, he

“Anakin, this is hardly related, I do not think that—”

The force between them sparks and Obi-Wan’s mouth snaps closed with an audible click of the jaw. There’s a tension and a heating of an eruption that is halted with the calming breeze of spring air, Obi-Wan’s Force Signature covering his own, soothing, embracing, calming. “Very well, Padawan.” Obi-Wan speaks with a voice of a man who’s been worn in battle, sighing out in exhaustion.b “Since you cannot resist your nature, I’ll allow it.“ He pauses, sounding not a little doubtful as he adds the obligatory “Just this once, Anakin.” A final form of giving in, one Anakin is familiar with. 

There’s an ‘You should be old enough to know better’ goes unsaid and so Anakin ignores it. It wouldn’t have mattered even if Obi-Wan did say it. He had before, many times, and it never mattered. Anakin somehow doubts it’ll matter even when he grows taller than Obi-Wan. And he will, he just knows it. He will grow tall and strong, and he will always take care of his Master, and Obi-Wan would not be able to argue with that. Because it’ll all make sense. It always does. Everything about them does. 

If only his Master understood him better, he’d know that one doesn’t just grow out of wishing to groom those he cares and…loves. This is something that is forever and always. That is something that only grows and deepens, something to be shared and relished. Something he will always give to his Master freely, even if his Master maybe doesn’t…. Really share it in the same way as him. Which is fine. He had decided a long time ago. It is fine. 

It is enough that he gets to care for his Master. So he smiles instead and purrs out a sweet “Thank you, Master.” In that respectful manner he knows his Master enjoys hearing. He giggles when he feels his Master’s breath hitching, giggles more when nuzzling against the neck tickles his nose. “This is so horrible.” He complains, wanting his Master to know how strongly he objects to this change, and yet he cannot stop giggling. “Master!” he doesn’t even try to hide his joy from his voice, nevermind from the Force.

His Force Signature is a slow pulse of contentment, securely tucked beneath Obi-Wan’s still. When he licks small licks under Obi-Wan’s ear, he can feel his Master’s breath catching, can feel the way he stops breathing entirely and the soft gasp when Anakin licks at his ear directly, once, twice, a few more times just to test how committed his Master is to this session. Very, it seems. His Master doesn’t object even when Anakin grows bold and nibbles at his earlobe, tugging ever so gently. His Master is always so sensitive around this area, always so jumpy if Anakin stays too long at this spot. It always makes Anakin want to lick there until Obi-Wan loses his composure entirely.

He never does. 

At least not too much.

He does want to groom Obi-Wan after all, not only bully him into squirming because he is so damn ticklish there. That is not to say that he is above wanting to see his pristine Master squirming a little. So he licks there again, and when his tongue dips only a little into the ear, his Master finally jumps and moves away, breathing harshly and looking redder than his hair.

“Anakin I do believe that my hair is not located in that particular spot and—” his hands close on Anakin’s shoulders when he makes it to the ear again, wanting to nibble just one more time, just one last time… “Anakin.” His Master’s firm voice snaps him back into focus, tells him gently through the force to not overdo it. Fine, fine. He will not overdo it. This time.

"Just relax, Mastah.” Anakin pouts, the word slurring in the way his Master always corrects. Always, but not now. Anakin reaches for his Master’s wide shoulders and waits a moment until his Master’s grip loosens enough for him to actually move. It’s easy enough to shift to his Master’s lap. One knee over and sitting down in one smooth motion that has a practiced finesse to it. You either get to Obi-Wan’s lap swiftly, or you don’t at all. There is no room for hesitation for his Master will do enough hesitating for the both of them. So he sits down and nudges closer, right away. Inhaling, inhaling deeper.

Oh how he wants their scent to become one. They’re already nearly inseparable, living as closely as they do, using the same soaps, eating the same foods. Anakin wants more. Anakin wishes that they could smell and feel like one. United. Clearly bonded. Even more than they are through the force. He wants it so much that his fangs itch, itch, itch to bite and bite and bite. But no. No he is here to groom, to care. Not to bite, not to… mark. His cheeks are warm with it, knowing that he has, and is, constantly considering this. Wondering about this, curious about this. About marking his Master in a way that will be known, in a way that will be understood. He thinks about it, always. Luckily his Master has no clue. Luckily, Obi-Wan does not know. Or he wouldn’t let him sit here so carelessly, surely, he wouldn’t. 

“It’s part of it, duh.” Anakin says without truly knowing what he speaks of. The grooming, the licking, the biting, the sitting on the lap? He doesn’t know. He only knows of the happy, loud purr that fills his lungs when Obi-Wan doesn’t stop him from leaning back in, back to his neck, nuzzling, smelling, licking up that rough, funny tasting beard and to his hair, spiky and significantly softer than the beard. He giggles again, and purrs. It’s an odd combination of sounds he does try to stop but doesn’t manage. He is too preoccupied for dignity, or decorum, or class. He’s too karking pleased. 

When he licks at his Master’s neck again, the man tilts his head up and away, exposing his throat for him. Good. Good. Good, great, awesome.

His Master couldn’t have displayed his trust more plainly than this. No words could have conveyed the same level of commitment, of confidence and belief. Exposing one’s throat, Anakin thinks, is a universal sign. Even if his Master is less inclined to instincts as Anakin is, it still counts, it still matters a whole lot that he does it for him. His Master does it because he knows it matters to him and that— that matters more than all else.

His own purring is deafening, drumming in his eardrums and filling his chest with sound, he used to try to hide this in the past when he realized that most Padawans did not purr at every one of their Master’s compliments or gestures of kindness. He no longer bothers. He pulls and licks and purrs some more. He takes his time, licking small, measured licks, taking care to put that awful messy beard into something much neater, dignified.

“Maste-rrr.” He draws the ‘R’, nuzzling again under the ear and grinning when his Master shudders but doesn’t pull away, he always gives him a chance to be good. So he will be good. He does not nibble, instead he wraps his lips carefully around the bit of skin where no hair touches. Oh he wants to suck, to mark, to taste. Oh he does, so much. But he doesn’t. He will be good, because his Master believes him to be good, and proper, and nice. So he will be. 

His cheeks are fire hot when he thinks about what else he would have liked to be doing instead of the promised grooming. That is not something he should be thinking of, nor something his Master would ever permit, but…

Thinking is not illegal and he is not good at not thinking. 

So he imagines it. Imagines how his Master’s hands would feel on his hips, imagines his Master yanking him down to sit properly on his lap, Imagines his Master wanting him to lick elsewhere and—

“Ahnakin—” Obi-Wan protests, so strongly it rings in the force with his words. He feels and looks scandalized, even more so than before. He looks like he is considering all his choices and decisions. He looks like he’s about to call quits. He looks like he’d push Anakin away, he— places his hands on Anakin’s hips and pulls him down, to sit properly. 

The whine that escapes Anakin’s lips is nothing short of mortifying. It’s a needy, surprised thing, he feels like a proper youngling, confused and shy. He seeks the refuge of his Master’s neck and hides there, nuzzling while whining again, complaining, scandalized too by his Master’s audacity to follow his dreams up like this. He can’t mean it, he simply can’t! It is a mere coincidence, his Master would never follow his fantasies, he didn’t even hear it, his shields are up and proper, he’s sure of it, he’s sure of it, he’s… 

“Sorry…” Anakin murmurs out, because if he’s honest, he is not sure if his shields are worth anything with how excited he had gotten. Maybe his Master did hear, maybe his Master did feel something. Maybe he did push a little too hard. He doesn’t want to push too hard, he knows that sometimes his Master gets nervous because of his thoughts. Not angry, never angry.

He doesn’t want to make his Master nervous, he can feel the tell-tales of it in the force. Despite his Master’s secure hold on him, despite his Master’s unmoving frame. He can feel the building up hesitation. He does not want his Master to feel that way with him. 

“I’ll stop.” He promises his Master, assures him. He’ll try to, anyway. For his Master he’d try to go against his nature, even if his nature does tell him to think and do all sorts of things. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night when he can’t sleep and he thinks of his Master and every word they had ever passed, he does wonder about this. Is this truly his nature, his instincts that drive him to act as he does, or is it simply how he is with his Master? He suspects he knows the answer to that, but it’s easier for the both of them to call it instincts and be over with it, so he never disputes it. “Really.”

There’s a charged silence and then, blessedly, his Master says the two words Anakin loves more than anything else in the world, the two words for which he, not jokingly, thinks he might be willing to die for. 

“Good boy.”

The Coruscanti accent is thick and rolling, he sounds almost distracted, he sounds… 

Anakin shuts his eyes and bites his tongue, fangs digging into the soft flesh. He must not think of exactly how he imagines his Master sounding. He should not think about how his hands feel warm and human on his hips. He should not think about the lingering flavor on his tongue nor how his lungs are full of Obi-Wan, of his Master. He should not, is not allowed to. Promised not to. Instead he wraps his arms around his Master’s neck and hugs him, pulling the larger man to himself, having his head against his chest for a few long moments in which he is sure Obi-Wan hears just how fast his heart goes. He surely can feel it through the bond, it’s going crazy, ba-dum, ba-dum. 

He can feel a distant echo of his own heartbeat, almost imperceptible to his senses, and yet there. An answer. Thoomp-thoomp.

When he leans back, he moves his hands to cup his Master’s cheeks and makes him tilt his head up, to face him. “You look good now,” His fangs stretch at his lips as he grins wide enough to hurt. “Master!” he adds, cheekily.

His Master’s eyes are a bright blue, the deepest, calmest pond. He rolls them shortly, then looks directly into Anakin’s own eyes and smiles at him, sarcasm dripping with fondness as he says “Thank you. Ah-nah-kin.” With the most accented tone Anakin had ever heard. There’s so much black in his Master’s eyes, a beautiful, wondrous thing that makes him itch all over and want to see more of that soft darkness no one else gets to see. 

No one else, but him. 

[franeridart]

The Housecat Philosophy - Ep 57

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[harryzroze]

Happy Lesbian Visibility Week !!! cheers to the fav lesbians

Close up image, screenshot reference I used and image description under the cut below!

Ruby and Sapphire from the show "Steven Universe" in a forest scene, a redraw of the scene in the episode "The Answer" moments before they fuse for the second time. My drawing has more paint-like texture due to the brushes I used, with dark blue shadows of trees in the middle-ground and background to frame around the two characters. There is a darker tree shape in the foreground that frames the brightly lit forest scene. Streams of water are flowing around the two gems and rays of light are coming from above the forest shooting downwards to hit the streams of water, making the areas glow. There are soft pink lights spread out in these glowing areas. I also added 2 frogs in the bottom right corner as a nod to the moment in the episode where Ruby catches a frog when they explore the surface together. Sapphire and Ruby are holding each other before they dance in this scene. Sapphire has her left hand on Ruby's right shoulder, Ruby's right hand gently hesitating at Sapphire's left elbow. Ruby's left hand and Sapphire's right hand (their respective gem hands) are holding each others hands in the back of the drawing, filling the small empty space between them. Sapphire is leaning forward slightly with a soft smile and Ruby has her eyes closed in a content, happy-like manner.

If you haven't heard of these characters before, here's a general description of them:

Ruby is on the left side of the drawing, she has scarlet red skin with dark red shorts, and a sleeveless dark red shirt with a lighter red triangle in the middle of the shirt heading downwards. her hair is a very red colour (almost black) in a square like shape that frames her face. She has a thick build and appears bulky and strong. She has a ruby gem integrated into her left palm.

Sapphire is on the right side of the drawing, she has light blue skin and a bright blue dress that hides her legs and feet. The torso of the dress is a dark blue with a light blue triangle shape in the front going downwards and two smaller white triangles alongside this. Her dress has big white puffy shapes at her shoulders, and she wears white gloves that go to her elbows. She has light blue long hair (the colour lighter than her skin), that curls down to around her hip area, and she has a fringe that covers up her singular eye. Her thinner arms indicate she may have a slimmer build than Ruby, but they are the same height. She has a sapphire gem integrated into her right palm.