#please have enough common courtesy to be respectful

[kwistowee]

Hey! Wanted to ask a q about giffing. I saw your recent post about not reposting gifs, only reblogs. I totally get that, so how do gif reactions come into play? Like is it okay to search for a gif as a reply or comment? (or are thes two separate things im conflating?? Im such a tech grandma 😂). Anyway, i very much appreciate all the hard work you do! Your gifs are so lovely 💛

Thank you so much for wanting clarity and for appreciating gifmakers' efforts. I likewise love your writing and I'm grateful for all the hard work you put into crafting beautiful stories! ♥️ You're not the only one who has asked about this so I'm going to direct my answer to the masses:

Concerning my earlier post, reposting is when someone creates a post comprised of someone else's original creations without permission: that's never okay, whether you "give credit" or not. Reaction gifs are different. Adding a reaction gif to someone else's post is totally fine! It's part of the language of Tumblr, and the internet as a whole. Some of the greatest posts on this site are what they are because of the additional images and comments made as the post circulated. (Some of you are hiding absolute gold in your tags; please consider adding those thoughts as comments so that people can see them!)

When Tumblr added the gif search function back in 2015, many people understood what that was intended for and used that function to search for reaction gifs to add to existing posts. However, others used that function as a way to find gifs they liked, create an original post comprised solely of other people's work, and then claim that it was okay because at least they were "giving credit" ("yeah i took your stuff but at least i told everyone who i stole it from...").

Reposting is theft. Reposting removes the creator from their work and seriously damages the changes of others finding the creator. I've seen reposted work with thousands of notes, and brilliant comments and tags the original creator should have seen and enjoyed, but they didn't because someone stole that from them. I don't know a single semi-notable gifmaker on this site who hasn't experienced that and it is so disheartening. Reblogging, on the other hand, is wonderful and is what makes this site functional.

If someone asks you not to repost something they made, take it down without an argument. Telling someone they should expect other people to take their stuff if they post it online is like telling someone they should expect other people to steal their car if they park it outside of their garage. Of course it is a possibility, but we shouldn't expect or tolerate that kind of behavior. It is incredibly selfish to feel entitled to take anything you like. We should try to be respectful toward each other.

Learning the ins and outs of different social media platforms takes time, and I remember being in those shoes back in 2012 when I first stumbled onto Tumblr. I'm definitely willing to grant leeway if someone is unfamiliar with the etiquette of this goofy site. But I've also had plenty of far less pleasant interactions with reposters, almost always users who are fully aware of Tumblr etiquette (and basic common courtesy), but who chose to ignore it anyway. I have zero patience for that kind of disrespect toward myself or other creators. So, again, if I see anyone reposting my gifs, artwork, or creations OR someone else's gifs, artwork, or creations, I will block them immediately! You take my stuff and I block your access to the rest of it. So never repost. Reblog the original.

[datshitrandom]

(source - some asshole’s post 😒😒😒)

[spoiled-fawn]

Part 1: Meeting John Price

Western AU; Mail Order Spouse Trope

WC: 3,131 CW: None

AN: My beloved! John Price! Would love to hear your thoughts and comments, as well as any questions. I hope ye enjoy <3

Please see the following for the explanation and precursors to the scene!

Introduction, Biography

--------

Truthfully, you’re glad you didn't have many friends in town, as it meant no one to share unnecessary secrets with, nor did it spread any word of what you were up to in your free time. 

However, that isn’t to say that you trusted at least some people in the small town you lived in, such as your boss.

A scapegoat for you to write your correspondence letters was that you simply had to stay late on the farm, working extra long hours because of something that was messed up, or because you knew your parents wouldn’t argue with the fact that you were getting more money.

Feeling that you were a decent enough candidate for John to consider since you are working as a farm hand already, you decided to write your first correspondence the next day. Once sent, you received a letter back from him four days later and by god, did he sound like such a gentleman. 

You were able to soon confide in him on how you wanted to leave town, start fresh, but stick with what you know since you did work on the well-known “Loyal Laswell Farm,” and help out around their farmhouse with common jobs such as sewing, cooking, and even making a dirty barn looked organized- a man’s dream spouse.

With only two weeks passing and less than a handful of letters to be traded, you already had money and an open invitation to John’s ranch. Through your correspondence, John stated that he had already known of Kate Laswell, her having been a long ago buyer from him and even she had sought out advice on taking care of her lambs long ago. 

John connected the dots and realized that you were the trusty youngling that she hired early on; He already trusted your morale if Laswell had kept you after all this time. (And if Laswell did gloat about you once in a while, that was a secret between her and John.) After finding out about the mutual connection, you confided in her. 

Kate, already knowing of your family’s vices, was pleasantly surprised by your major turn of life events and how quickly your fate had been granted to you in the form of Price. She made sure your head was screwed on straight enough that if it didn’t work out, you could mail her and she would help you figure it out from there…

Kate’s wife chimed in and said you and Price would be a great fit.

The two women gave their aid to you in the form of gifting you your favorite horse to ride off on during your long journey. You only brought a handful of items from your parent's house, slowly, and used the remaining amounts of wardrobe you kept at the farm to pack up. With two bags packed and some food, feed, a gun being courtesy of Laswell’s wife, and a celebratory pack of cigars for John (Kate’s wedding gift), you were on your way. 

It only took you a week by horseback, luckily traveling near the Oregon Trail that had already had sorted paths cleared and lived-in, you only needed to stop when you and your horse did. You were able to send John updated letters, but were not able to receive them due to constantly being on the move. This left you daydreaming about him.

John wrote that he is originally from Deadwood, South Dakota. He comes from a long line of lawmen and followed in their footsteps in his early adult life. However, as John became sheriff and notorious for his hardened but fair demeanor, he began to see the justice system slip through the cracks right in front of him. Murderers would walk away and many left unjustly prosecuted in other cases. It angered and dwelled on him so much that he retired early on. John soon found his solace in the quiet mountain town of Pitkin, Colorado. John describes himself as a proud man who is protective and respectful, an old soul who loves his whiskey - and is looking for his strawberry wine. He is a weathered man who can fix any problems of yours, all at the cost of a shoulder to lean on and someone to spend the rest of his days with.

Coming into Pitkin, it brings forth a small town nestled within luscious green mountains and a strip of shops down the main road that highlights most of the town's activity. Riding through, you were an obvious sight to be had; a new face set out on a horse with minimal bags packed on the back. You didn’t seem like a traveler, no, you seemed like someone who was on a mission to find something- someone. 

Smiling and giving small nods towards those who stare, your cheeks have a faint blush from the attention as you ride down the strip and toward the end of the town. Soon, the signs have a label of a bull, a common connotation of a ranch, causing you to garner up a bit more hope and hold your head high as you click your horse into a canter. 

The sound of your horse's hooves thundering on the ground cannot beat the thrum of your heart; riding over the hill, you’re greeted with a breathtaking view of the Alpine mountains that dip into a valley with an absurd amount of leveled planes that make you believe the land was spread flat by an inviting entity. Your eyes come into focus on small black dots that move before you make out to be the shape of cattle grazing across the green and flowing grass.

There sits a house atop the hill that is before the dip of the valley, where a fence surrounds a large barn that is directly adjacent to the house. You bring your horse to a slow walk as you take in the view of the wooden house; it's a cabin-styled home but large in the additions that have been formed around the sides, making it one of the bigger houses in town. The barn rivals its size by double, and the open stalls along the side let you glimpse into the hay-filled homes of horses that linger near the fences. You have to do a double take when you see movement in the barn that is all too human-like, then pulling the reigns of your horse once a few feet away from the entrance to stop and watch. 

A man stands, low grunts leaving him as he stretches his back before grabbing a hay bayle and beginning to break it up. He wears a worn-out pair of jeans and a cowboy hat as his low whistling breaks the silence between the surrounding horses neighing at your new appearance. In an instant, you know immediately this is John.

To your surprise, your horse greets the others in a sharp jeer of noise, causing him to turn around in surprise his eyes dart up at you.

For a second, you’re humored at the look he gives, not expecting something so sweet as you to ride into his ranch and most likely expecting someone within the town to come to bother him. 

But in an instant, he knows exactly who you are. 

After his shock wears off, he sets down the hay and reaches up to take his cowboy hat off and place it on his chest as he walks toward you. Letting out a low whistle, his eyes roam over you with an enamored stare. “God was just showin’ off when he made you, sweetheart.” Comes the low timbre of his voice, sending a small fire of desire shimmying through your vertebrae. 

A soft smile graces your face in return, halting your horse for the time being as he comes up to you. “Good morning sir, would I be right to assume that you are John Price, the owner of this ranch?” You ask after a moment of your eyes trailing over him, taking in his face and ice-blue eyes while he approaches to help you down from your horse.

“That I am, Sweetheart. And I suppose you’re the one that I’ve been lookin’ so forward to meetin’, that right?” He asks in return, a small smirk taking his lips while he helps you lower down from the saddle. You smile at the extended hand, taking it as you swing your opposite leg out of the stirrup while feeling the touch of his other hand coming to caress your hip in a gentle fashion.

"I hope you've been as comfortable as one can be on a week-long ride," John comments softly, keeping his hand on you once you're firmly planted on the ground as his eyes scan you from head to toe. "How you feelin’?" He asks sweetly, now finding your eyes with genuine affection in his tone.

In response to his lingering touch on your hip, and feeling it travel to your waist with a brief squeeze before he lets it fall, you give him a small squeeze of the hand you're holding to. “Not too shabby; was able to get a room a few of the nights along the way. I’m thankful for the good weather I had while getting here.” You respond as you shift your saddle-sore hips for a moment and reorient your limbs to standing. 

"You're not so shabby yourself, sweet thing'." He compliments softly as he releases you, then grabs your horse’s bridle and releases the bit before attaching his own lead to it, and a small feeling of surprise crosses your mind at how easily he handles new horses. Then, gesturing for you to follow him. "Come on. Let me show you around." John leads with comfortable confidence, letting your horse sniff him while leading him to an open stall with some water and feed. 

“Thank you for letting me bring my stallion here, Laswell gifted him to me when I was sayin’ goodbye. Said you may remember him from when he was a foal?” You prompt with a tilt of curiosity at the edge of your words while you join them in the stall to unload your bags and take the saddle off.

Looking back towards him, his eyes are looking over the horse for any identifiers, hints that would make him remember. “Not quite sure I remember this one, sweetheart. He got a name?” John asks in response once finished doing a sweepdown of his mane and a quick swipe of his hair coat.

“Laswell said he’s always been named Captain.” You answer curtly, now looking to see his reaction, if any.

It takes a moment for you to narrow in on the way the left side of his mustache twitches slightly before he breaks out into an all-out smile. “Well, I’ll be damned…” John trails out as he moves back towards Captain's head.

His blue eyes shine in the light of the barn windows, meeting yours for a moment while a boyish charm takes over his face. “This slick bastard got you all the way over to me?” John speaks with a gruffness that intertwines with amusement; the way his hands move to rub over the horse's forehead and nose showcases a glimpse of a gentle side reserved for his animals.

As you scrunch your eyebrows up in confusion, John catches your expression and gives a hearty chuckle in response. “I helped birth this one the day that Kate came up here to buy some lambs. Her wife was cryin’, thinking that him and his momma were gonna die.” He answers before moving to give Captain a pat on his chest, a huff of his breath coming out in response. 

“He had both him’s front legs back during contractions. Had to help the mare by pushing his fat head on in to get him to readjust. Kate and her wife saw the whole thing.” He finishes with a hum and a distant look in his eyes only for a second, now coming back to your side and picking up a bag of yours.

“This all you got? Woulda expected a bit more from a woman movin' out west, especially to the cold mountains.” He states with a cocked eyebrow, eyeing as you bend down to hoist the remaining bag over your shoulder. You both give Captain a farewell tap before exiting the stall and heading towards Johns's house.

You wait on replying for a moment as you take a longer look at the structure, noting the wooden panels that exude a warm and weathered patina, a testament to the house's endurance against the harsh elements of the wild. The front features a symmetrical facade, with a steeply pitched gable roof that displays a combination of wooden shingles and iron accents. Windows are evenly placed on the front-facing sides of the house, and shutters open to allow glimpses into the inside.

“Didn’t have a lot to bring if I’m being honest. Just packed up what I liked and wanted, then left.” You answer with a confident nod, leaving it at that. “I did plan on finding some new or old fabrics to start making winter coats for myself.” You add on quickly, thinking over how quickly the chill must set in within the mountain valley.

You follow John onto the front porch of the house, “Ah, you do some of that fancy work or just plain work?” He inquires while gesturing for you to step inside the entrance. You’re greeted by a spacious entryway, designed to be practical and modest. The floors, made of polished wide planks, creak softly under the added weight of yourself next to John, a new soul to provide protection to in the house.

To the front of the entryway, is his living room, its centerpiece being a grand stone fireplace, providing warmth and comfort during the chilly evenings. Leather upholstered furniture invites warmth to the house, and you can see a good amount of hides used as a rug and even a throw blanket over the couch, while ornate coffee cans and some intricately shaped vases linger around the surfaces. 

The sound of your mouth opening and closing resonates in the silence of you two standing there before John shuts the door softly behind you and ultimately snaps you out of your daze. “Um, just some plain work. Never had the time or materials to work on some fancy clothes, would rather make things I know I’m gonna use.” You answer while moving to face adjacent to where he stands in front of the door.

His eyes track your own as your attention comes back to rest on him, a small smirk tugging on the edge of his mouth. With a quick laugh, he moves to place his left hand along your back, his cold fingers sliding to the place between your shoulders. “Welcome home, Sweetheart.” He smiles while speaking softly, leaning over to place a light kiss atop your head. 

When he moves back from your space, which you want to ultimately follow as you feel his warmth radiate next to you and already adore the way his voice dips impossibly lower when speaking so gently, his hand slides down to the small of your back and gives a small tap to lead you forward. “Come on, let's get you settled in.” He beckons you while walking to a door that is adjacent to the entrance.

Walking in, John’s bedroom exudes a haven, signifying his rest and relaxation at the end of the day. The warm, earthy tones of the wood and furniture create an internal warmth, in contrast to the view of the surrounding mountains of green and glimpse over the cattle that wander the land, the windows laden with lace curtains.

The bed was the average size for the master bedroom; The double bed sat its headboard against the wall to the right of the entrance, facing the windows. A large red quilt adorns the bed while the bed itself is a robust wooden frame with upright pieces of carved and sanded wood posted taller at each corner of the bed.

In the corner is another stone fireplace, where an armchair sits to serve as a place for John to unwind, read a book, or reflect on the day. A well-worn wooden dresser stands against one wall, its surface adorned with a few cherished mementos - a faded photograph of him on a horse, a weathered pocket watch that has seen countless sunsets, and a small collection of polished rocks, each one possibly a reminder of a special moment.

"It's not much." He pauses before speaking again, his tone becoming more personal. "And I'd love to have you share my bed when you're comfortable. However, if you need time to adjust, I can set myself up in the living room. I don't wish to pressure you if you're not comfortable yet."

The sweet and respectful offer doesn’t fly over you, and a small smile rises over your lips. “Thank you, John. That’s awfully considerate of everything you’re doing for me. I don’t want to burden you with sleeping on your own couch, I wouldn't mind.” You answer while slowly walking to the dresser, placing your bag down by the foot of it.

“It may take a few days to adjust and get to know you, but-” you take a second to turn around and look at his form with a small shy smile, “I don’t think I’ll keep you waiting long.” You finish as a soft blush rises to the apples of your cheeks. Your hands come to interlace together in the front of your lap as his heavy footsteps make their way towards you with a bright smile that borders a smirk.

He stops in front of you, holding eye contact as he places your other bag down. “Ain’t no way in hell I’d be letting you sleep on the couch, sweetheart. But, I do look forward to hearing your answer. When you’re ready for it.” He speaks in a gruff voice, eyebrows raised to make sure you're taking his answer to heart and understanding, his warm hands moving to enclose both of yours within his grasp.

Bringing your hands up to his lips, you watch with rapt attention at his mouth puckering and in turn, making his facial hair move in the action, then leaving a warm and gentle kiss on the back of each hand.

His eyes don’t stray from yours while doing so, his blue eyes bring an inviting wave of ice- the kind you actively seek when you’re feeling too hot or need to wake up. “Now, how about I show you the rest of the ranch, babydoll?” He asks with a soft grin, pulling you just a fraction closer by the grip of your hands.

[sonorousabyss]

Please. Rengoku my beloved. I need headcannons of him with a Electro Hashira. Like the electric Archon but like.. a dude. I love gay people.

-out of pocket anon

𝗞𝘆𝗼𝗷𝘂𝗿𝗼 𝗥𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗼𝗸𝘂 𝘅 𝗠𝗮𝗹𝗲, 𝗘𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗿𝗼 𝗔𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗻-𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗛𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗮 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝗘𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗿𝗼 𝗛𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗮 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿:

Much like Rengoku, M/N, the Electro Hashira would be passionate and absolute in his ideal. He yearns for a world in which humans can live eternal, without fear of demons feasting on their flesh. They are the enemy, and as such, none should be spared.

Because of this ideal, it is a known fact that he has immense respect for the master, as well as his fellow Hashira- even if the manner in which they conduct themselves is rather... unorthodox... by his standards.

When meetings come about, M/N's very confident in his stances and sticks very close to this ideal. This trait leads to fairly interesting encounters and debates, in which his stubborn insistence can be both a comfort and a thorn in one's side depending on the situation. That said, it can also make him predictable. If facts are twisted in just the right way, it's easy to gain his support, and immensely difficult to get him to change his mind.

Rengoku admires his passion. He sees it as a raging inferno that must be cherished, elegant even as it burns that which stands in its path. That said? He admires the Hashira's curiosity just as much.

When the Electro Hashira eventually does concede to being wrong or misled, his gaze has a tendency to veer outward, looking to others to see just what else he might be missing. This can lead to some very interesting takes while he reconstructs his ideals.

Rengoku is one of the few Hashira who doesn't mind being put together with M/N in missions. His rigidity is something that Rengoku finds easy to work with, despite it being a quality that others tend to dislike. They find common ground easily enough, and when it comes to mission execution? They finish jobs swiftly together. They can be flexible if absolutely necessary, but why differ from the standard protocol if it's effective?

It's no surprise to anyone when they begin sticking close to each other during meetings. With Rengoku's enthusiasm directed to his duties and the Electro Hashira's unwavering attitude, they aren't often on opposing sides of issues.

The Electro and Flame Hashiras tend to cover each other's flanks in verbal discussions as well as battles.

Pile that on top of the sheer experience they have with each other in the field, and it's a recipe for unwavering bonds. They tend to wander into each other's company quite often, sometimes without realizing it.

Both men were likely so focused on their duties that neither noticed the blatant attraction they had toward each other. Conversely, Mitsuri, Tengen, and the boss noticed their chemistry almost immediately.

Virtually any time that one of them tried to bring it up, save for maybe the boss, they were met with denial on both their parts. As far as they were concerned, they were totally just close friends and comrades. Totally.

As far as their relationship goes, Rengoku was the one who began initiating things at first. When the Electro Hashira was sequestered in their "Plane of Euthymia" in mourning of his men and those lost, he went out of his way to visit them, offer his condolences, or invite them out on excursions, work-related or otherwise. Similarly, if he happened to be by a Wisteria House that M/N was staying in while off duty or injured, he would drop by and give his fellow Hashira a visit.

This may originally have proved annoying at first, the Electro Hashira not really appreciating the intrusions in his home, but the Flame Hashira eventually grew on him. One by one he began returning the man the same courtesies, growing increasingly irritable whenever he came back injured from a mission due to being reckless, giving the man an earful. Kyojuro would always laugh heartily, promising to make up for it later.

They grew rather close over their years of service together, patching each other up between missions and supporting each other as they fought through hell and back, both men acting as a safe haven for each other.

While Rengoku was certainly more verbal about how much he treasured these "momentus occasions"- literally just their outings together- the Electro Hashira was a bit more poised and quiet about the matter, showing their appreciation through various nonverbal means of communication. Perhaps something he'd grow to regret in the aftermath of the Mugan Train incident.

AN: Sorry this one took so long, there were so many places I could take this that I didn't know where to start! Hope you enjoy it, and if you want more? You can always feel free to send another request. May your day be as wonderful as the ocean's abyss is deep.

If you're new here, I take requests. You can find my rules here.

[prince-liest]

inspired by a series of convos in the 3zun server and also my own recent camping trip:

please imagine mundane modern au nieyao going camping

meng yao is like twenty-three, freshly graduated from college after having to take a gap year to take care of his ailing mother. nie mingjue is in his thirties, and knows meng yao as the responsible young man who befriended his brother and is probably one of the driving forces preventing nie huaisang from having skipped too many classes to actually earn a degree. he's not technically meng yao's boss, but he works in the same organization and he thinks it's perfectly acceptable to mosey on over to meng yao's actual boss during the interview process and give them a stellar review of what he knows of meng yao's work ethic.

the fact that meng yao eventually (read: very rapidly) gets promoted to work at nie mingjue's right hand is... probably fine. it's not too strange. in fact, they're friends! good friends! good enough friends that when nie huaisang finally puts his foot down and downright refuses to go on the nie annual camping trip, citing that he is a "real" adult now (whatever that means) and that means he doesn't have to spend a week in the woods every year getting bitten by mosquitos and hunting down the nearest wifi connection if he doesn't want to, da-ge, maybe it'd be cute for taking photos if they just went for the weekend - well, then nie mingjue retorts that he doesn't see the point in driving all the way out to yosemite for a single weekend and invites meng yao instead.

meng yao, on the other hand, is thinking: hm. he is pretty sure he has seen this porno. a week out in the woods with his hot older boss who is also his best friend's big brother. you couldn't fit more tropes into it if you tried. maybe if there were debt collectors after him and nie mingjue was a mafia boss.

(there are no debt collectors. meng yao has made certain of it. he has been very financially responsible in the aftermath of his mother's passing.)

nie mingjue is a responsible hiker and at least somewhat aware that he's taking somebody with no experience on a camping trip, largely courtesy of nie huaisang. meng yao ends up dressed mostly in nie huaisang's unused hiking clothes, packing his things in nie huaisang's unused hiking backpack, and sleeping in nie huaisang's unused sleeping bag. he looks up the price of the socks that nie mingjue handed him and then decides not to look up any more for the sake of his emotional wellbeing.

they make it to yosemite. meng yao has looked up all the things to do in yosemite valley, but for some reason they end up driving way farther north through some winding mountain roads that make him wonder if the car is just going to... tip over the side and neither of them will ever be seen again. for some reason there's a random porta-potty around one of the bends that meng yao silently stares at as they pass. it takes several hours to arrive, but there's a surprising amount of gas left over in the car for how much time the trip took.

the camp grounds are a little...

"isn't this a little crowded?" meng yao asks. "why don't we go farther into the woods?"

nie mingjue looks at him like he's the strange one. this is how meng yao learns that you cannot camp just anywhere inside of a national park. apparently it's okay, because most people are respectful of the common spaces. also, there is no shower in this specific camp. nie mingjue brought wet wipes.

these are not the ideal circumstances for fucking in the woods, but meng yao is a trooper and he understands that sometimes reality is a little more complicated than not safe for work media.

it's fine. besides, they get there pretty early in the day, all-considered. and it's spring, so it's still cool enough to go hiking at midday. a waterfall sounds pretty romantic, he thinks, watching nie mingjue work some kind of eldritch magic with tent poles while taking mental notes so that he can prove himself competent should he ever need to set up a tent again in his life.

an hour and a half later, meng yao is soaked through with sweat and half-convinced that he's developed adult-onset asthma. nie mingjue is glistening attractively. for some reason the incline of the 'easy' hike to a nearby waterfall that they're on suddenly turned into a rock climbing challenge in the last quarter mile. the worst part about going down it is knowing that he will have to go back up on the way back. there aren't that many people around, but if nie mingjue is taking him here to fuck him, then meng yao is going to simply have to throw himself into the river rapids and drown. it would be a kinder form of death.

they get to the waterfall. it is spring, so the river is flowing so strongly with icemelt that it's too dangerous to truly swim. meng yao considers at least dipping in, but when he puts his feet in, the water is so cold that he decides that he likes having physical sensation above his ankles, thank you. nie mingjue smiles proudly at him and tells him that nie huaisang usually complains up a storm by this point and that he loves his brother but it's nice to be with a more appreciative partner. something in meng yao's chest squeezes a little bit.

it gets a little tighter when he realizes that he's finished all of his water and nie mingjue crouches down to show him how to use the iodine water tablets on the river water. they make the water taste strange, but meng yao is mostly distracted by the fact that nie mingjue's mouth was just on the lip of the water bottle that he's about to drink from.

he drinks, tilting his head back. his hands are shaky with exhaustion and some of the water spills. it's cool on his chin and throat and he doesn't bother brushing it away - he's so sweaty that it's probably impossible to discern what's sweat and what's water anyway. when he opens his eyes again, nie mingjue is watching him.

they hike back. by the time they arrive at camp, meng yao's legs have entirely turned into jelly and nie mingjue takes pity on him, sitting him down in a camping chair with a beer and going off to pick up dry wood ("why would I buy firewood when deadwood is free?"). he teaches meng yao how to start a campfire, stacking small twigs in increasingly larger sizes until there's enough kindling to set the big logs ablaze. meng yao finds himself shivering in the dark, pressed up against nie mingjue's side and leaning towards the flames. funny, how he thought he would never feel cooled down again just an hour ago. his face burns, and his back is only cold until nie mingjue offers him a blanket.

they absolutely do not fuck that night, nor any other night. but meng yao has fun: he hasn't felt so free to learn and mess up and explore since he was a kid, and the absolute newfound freedom that he experiences when he once asks if they could go look at something off a path and nie mingjue says yes - says, in fact, that the whole point of going off into the woods like this is being able to do and see whatever you want, as long as it's within legal boundaries - means meng yao basically forgets his initial plan entirely.

they nearly get lost on their next hike, missing a turn in the established path and only turning around when they reach what could best be described as a ravine. there are more waterfalls - meng yao didn't know there were this many waterfalls anywhere in the world. they move campgrounds a few times, too. apparently it's quite difficult to get seven straight days booked in a yosemite campground. meng yao sets up the tent the second time. some of the campgrounds have showers, wooden buildings with cool water and moths fluttering around the lights. the most delicious meal meng yao swears he's ever eaten is the cheese-filled sausages nie mingjue roasts over a campfire, combined with cup noodles that they cook using water from the same camping stove tea kettle they use for their tea in the mornings.

eventually, it is time to go home. meng yao hasn't washed his hair in two days and doesn't remember the last time he heard the ping of his phone demanding that he put out yet another fire at work. he'd been asked to keep his phone on and check his email when he can during his vacation, but most of the places they've been don't actually have service.

they drive back through the same mountains as before. the porta potty is still there. meng yao actually points out its strangeness this time, and nie mingjue laughs. meng yao smiles. he's been smiling a lot during this trip. he feels vaguely like a new person. it's fresh air and endorphins, nie mingjue says. good for the soul. meng yao is pretty sure it's nie witchcraft, too.

(or maybe it's endorphins. he certainly gets a hot flood of those when, dropping off meng yao at his doorstep, nie mingjue finally hesitates - and steps close, mumbling, "didn't wanna make you uncomfortable while you were trapped in the woods with me, but..." before kissing him. his hands are so big on meng yao's hips.)

(they do fuck that night. but not before meng yao drags both of them into his shower and scrubs himself from top to bottom. yosemite was great, but he has standards.)

[ashsostrange]

it’s stand on business o’clock, cz i know y’all sick gw*les & p*nkflower shippers + delulu gwen stans ain’t try to run my girl bree (@breeandhermunches) off her blog… you got me all the way fucked up and ima tag this in ALL the categories. you can’t do anything about it 🤣 if you’re upset, then scroll ho. if you know i’m not talking about you, then have a great day! 🫶 if the shoe fits, then wear it.

i’m getting disrespectful. ima return the energy you hoes dished out n you better take it like some mf champs. y’all wanted to fuck around so now you gotta hear my mouth and find out. read it ‘n weep. clearing you bitches gives me life.

such a shame we’re back here, but y’all are mad, mad miserable. like, i’ve never seen a fandom so chronically online. are you even trying to mask the fact that you rarely step outside anymore…? 😬

let me making it so very clear why i’m making this post in the first place, bc y’all seem to struggle with my main concerns never clicking in your heads.

y’all have the time to sit in somebody’s inbox and complain about their hatred towards fictional ships, meanwhile the people y’all complain about stay on their pages and mind their business? 🤨 those people being US. ion recall none of us going directly to YOUR pages to hate on punkflower and gwiles. if we hate, it’s on our pages. i don’t go looking for a mf fight, that’s mad childish. y’all were riding bree’s dick like crazy. at this point, her hate for gwiles must keep y’all up at night. talk to a therapist about that. it’s not healthy. i’m gna address ALL the bs y’all be on.

so now that you know why i’m posting this, let me set few things straight for y’all.

“don’t use the ship tag to hate! 🤬🤬” the day you copyright and trademark the tag, present me with an official “tumblr etiquette” rule book or, show me proof that you own tumblr is the day i’ll stop. ima do wtv i want whenever i want, please get that thru ya hollow ass heads. y’all aren’t entitled to anything. not respect, not no damn “common courtesy,” ESPECIALLY not over dysfunctional ships/fictional characters 🤣 i don’t owe you SHIT.

some of were y’all tryna go back and forth with me at the grown ass age of TWENTY. over GWILES. a sixteen yr old vs a twenty yr old, see your life 😂😂 it’s truly alarming. go get employed. if you alr are, then call your manager and pick up some more shifts bc you clearly ain’t doing enough. if college graduation rates begin to decline, i know exactly who to come to. everything’s going up and even tho you should be standing on some mf business so you can afford the cost of living, you’re arguing with teenagers online instead. a lot of you have too much free time.

“you posted this publicly under the tag, you can’t expect people not to want to argue” yes i can! block me and scroll. we don’t have to argue. i don’t remember starting an argument? i was never on your pages. i only reblog shit when it appears on my dash. like i said, i’m not searching far n wide for no damn fight. 🤷‍♀️ nobody told y’all to bitch, whine, and reblog mine or bree’s shit. your issue is that you have no self control. you don’t know when to hold yourself tf back, so you feel obligated to reply. god forbid someone has a differing opinion. my post was never even about the flaws in miles and gwen’s relationship. i was talking about how it is disappointing to see miles’ story be reduced to a love story. unfortunately, y’all forgot to put your glasses on beforehand and read “i hate gwiles.” yes, i hate gwiles!!! but that was not the point of my post. y’all are either illiterate or trying to let off some serious steam. i’m not having any of it. maybe y’all are upset i called you delusional, but you’ve effortlessly proven my point.

this is the internet. you have the tools to avoid seeing what me n bree hv to say, so why are you throwing a tantrum like a goddamn child instead of utilizing them?? you’re not special. the world doesn’t revolve around you and what you want. people are dying n you’re worried about a hate post under a ship tag?? mind you, that was the one and only “hate post” i’ve EVER put under that fuckass tag 😭 bree will make one post about gwiles, and y’all are the ones who’ll drag it out, then call her “obsessed.”we’re doomed bc y’all are doomed.

the white mfs complaining ab the term “snow bunny”… jesus 🤦‍♀️ ts didn’t even mean what you think it meant in the first place. it was originally used to refer to female skiers. some of y’all swear up, down, n all around that being “racist” to white people is the same as racism towards black people, and it’s not. let’s use “snow bunny” and the n-word as examples:

snow bunny had an alternative use before it was used to refer to white people. there’s no significant history behind it at all, unless you count tiktok as history. the n word has always been the n word. it’s always been derogatory, and anyone will a brain would know it’s mad history behind the word. it roots in deep hatred. people continue to use this word to belittle those who are black, or use it lightly around their friends nd behind closed doors as if it’s a common cuss word. y’all’s experiences with “racism” are nowhere near comparable to the experiences black people have BEEN facing and will be facing for fucking ever. white people have and always will be seen as the superior race, therefore, you face minimal to no “racism” outside of the internet, and i’d do anything to be able to say that. don’t even @ me talking about “🥹🥹 that doesn’t make racism against white people oka—“ i don’t care. at all. drink some water. you’ll be fine.

“you guys hate women!!!” “y’all hate gwen bc she’s white!!” like, you sound so fkn dumb nd all i can do is sit and stare at you.

me nd bree are black girls. people from EVERY race and EVERY ethnicity hate black people and EVERYONE hates black girls. hell, not even black men like us. why on god’s green mf earth would we ever want sb else to feel that way??

yk what y’all need to do? y’all need to quit whining and accept the fact that bree doesn’t like gwen because of what she did to miles. it’s as simple as that. stop trying to complicate things bc you so desperately want to deem her and other people who hate gwen “racists” or “misogynists.” no. i fw gwen heavy, nd me and bree are able to coexist bc neither of us are fucking delusional and regularly touch grass 🤷‍♀️ same thing with all my other mutuals.

meanwhile, you hoes get your panties in a twist when sb calls gwen a snow bunny as if she’s a sentient being who’s going to cry over ts, like, no. your feelings are hurt? take a fucking walk! nobody has to like her.

and punkflower, oh my god 😐 i’ve never been homophobic and i never will be. i’m literally queer. i’m not about that friendly fire before y’all try and call me homophobic. my thing is, if hobie was originally supposed to be a nineteen year old, n now his age is unconfirmed, why in the hell would we go and age him down to sixteen?? all y’all wna do is ship that man with miles or write smut about him. some of y’all wanna do both!! you change his age when it’s convenient to you. if you don’t see an issue with that, then i can’t help you. you’re weird. until i hear otherwise from one of the directors, he’s 19.

ghostflower or gwiles 🙃 the reason y y’all are sobbing or wtv. i thought y’all were exaggerating when you said gwiles was your religion, but it’s looking like i was very incorrect. real talk, ion like that fuckass ship. i don’t have to and neither does anybody else. just like you lames do with gwen, you dig deep in your ass for every problematic reason possible. “you have a racial bias!!!” “you hate interracial relationships!!” the fuck?? 😭 do you cunts read what you write before you post it?? “they’re more obsessed with gwiles than we are” “they must be in love with ghostflower & gwen”

…huh? covid really set some of y’all back tremendously because it seems a concerning amount of you lack critical thinking skills. in reality, just like hating gwen, the reason we dislike gwen and miles together is SO very simple. it all boils down to the fact that gwen did miles dirt. and i’ve made a separate post, i’ve talked about why they would never work imo. when i present y’all with my logical reasoning, you dgaf! so the only thing you can do now is shut the hell up, unclench, and cope. since you wna get in your feelings bout it, fuck gwiles, n fuck you too.

y’all even got some of your own people agreeing w me, props to y’all btw 👏 it’s never you i’m talking about.

i hate that y’all made it this deep bc it didn’t need to be. this is a fucking movie. none of this is real, yet you continue to harass me and bree like we murdered your immediate + extended family + the family dog that had cancer. i find myself hoping that one day y’all will realize how dumb you sound, but then i remember some of you niggas are already grown, so it’s looking quite improbable.

and also, don’t b up in my reblogs chattin’ it up about shit i’ve explicitly stated that idc about. i won’t repeat myself because you can’t read. if this post hasn’t shown you i don’t give even half of a fuck about you or your feelings regarding ANYTHING at this point in time, then i don’t really know what will 🤷‍♀️

if i made you mad, go ahead nd suck it up fa me. we won’t be going toe to toe and debating on MY blog because you’ll be actively wasting your own time, as i am not willing to hear anyone out. it’s been that way from the start and it won’t change. if you send an anon message or any type of inbox w some bs then it’ll sit there until the end of time or be swiftly deleted. if you reblog this post trying to invalidate anything i just addressed, i won’t even give you the time of day, bc i said everything that needed to said. i was very articulate and extremely clear. know that i can’t and won’t be swayed in the slightest. we’d just go back and forth until you decide to shut your mouth or block me. so block me now. ian the one.

if you don’t get it, then you don’t fucking get it, but what y’all aren’t gna do is treat people the way y’all were treating bree just because she hates two ships + gwen stacy. you complain about how the fandom sucks like you’re not the same people who make being in fandoms in unenjoyable.

you usually have to go to a therapist and pay for reality checks. luckily for y’all, i gave you one for free! you needed to be humbled and i happily did the humbling. lil piece of advice: stop trying to force people to gaf if they clearly do not. block and move on with your life. you gon get tired one day. leave me, bree, n anyone else you bother tf alone. spend your energy trying to change people’s minds on REAL ISSUES that actually matter, not fucking spider-man.

whew, ANYWAY… i hope i never have to speak bout this again. act right in the near future n i won’t have to “invade your tags” with long paragraphs in which i set you fools straight, thank yewww! 🫶

god bless!! 💗

[buccellato]

We're far enough along in the week that I think this won't disrupt the rest of the book club discussion, but just to be safe I'm putting it under a cut since it deals with the themes of sexual assault

I've seen some people touch about the themes of body autonomy and SA undertones from the fifth moon incident, and as someone who is on my like, 3rd reread over the years I definitely concur with it

and I wanted to add some more support to the conversation (if, uh, there is one here), because I notice people tend to focus on Vash's reaction and the immediate incident (which is fair, because he's one of the characters the audience will be empathizing with most at this point), and I wanted to go over the other things surrounding the incident that made this event go from "villain hurts the protagonist event" to something worse™️

(screencaps courtesy of the Overhaul project btw)

First up we have Vash's freeze-up event, which is very common in traumatic events but not for Vash, who has learned to be reactive for survival. Some deeply traumatic memory is freezing his body, one that he can't even fully remember, and he just stands there and dissociates in his memories for a solid minute as his naked-ass brother closes the good distance between them on foot after declaring he was gonna show him how to use his angel arm (which is just bad vibes city after the following pages, because Knives is just so casual with how he treats Vash's body, like it's something that belongs to him). I truly believe this wouldn't happen if he wasn't under extreme duress, because we know Vash is inhumanly fast and we know that he definitely wants to get back at his brother. This isn't a Dominique situation where he's trapped by other means, this is one where he's trapped by his trauma imo.

Next page is the one I like to call the "you need to back the fuck up dude" page because of how creepy Knives is here. He leans on Vash's arm in a weirdly casual and tender way, but Vash is pulling away in shock and fear. And then to follow it up, Knives slams his hand into Vash's face to take control of him. Throughout it all Vash is visibly spooked, but Knives looks so goddamn pleased with himself. After this there's a few pages of Vash's body be changed against his will to activate the angel arm, followed up by this

Where the gung-ho guns are all watching on, stunned, while Conrad yells at them to evacuate (you know, the usual things to say when you accidentally slip the screwdriver from the demon core). Knives, meanwhile, has slithered up behind Vash and is getting more handsy with him for better control. Throughout it all he is completely at ease, asking Vash "how it feels," to activate his arm while forcing him to remember the events of Lost July. All of his language here kind of implies that he doesn't have much respect for Vash's individuality, going on about how "this is our true power" while forcing him to remember one of the worst events of his life. Knives here is drawn extra menacing with wide-eyed glee while Vash is just straight-up bawling.

The following page is Knives trying to force his brother to fire, which others have touched on, but I just actually really wanted focus on these 2 panels because Vash is just in complete anguish. Tears are literally pouring down his face, he is miserable and possibly in pain as his body gets changed in ways he cannot fully control anymore, but his brother is telling him to "let his power flow," as the core in the angel arm reaches criticality.

Vash eventually rips his arm out of the frame of the angel arm to shoot himself (and his brother) in the legs so that he can change his angle to at least aim up into space (and into the moon), because he can't stop the gun from firing. Vash and Knives are injured, Vash wishes he didn't exist, and almost everyone else who witnessed the event from a distance blames him for his participation. The SA vibes are very easy to read imo (to the point where I picked them up when I first read it years ago), and there's certain events from later in the manga that just sort of pile on to it (but we're not there yet so 🙃).

Now, I'm not entirely certain Nightow intended it to be read as SA at this point, but the way it sort of builds up later (and the way it gets reused more explicitly in tristamp) kinda gives me the vibe that he eventually picked up on it himself later on. Granted, we were already introduced to organ farming, slavery, and rape by this point in the narrative (and almost directly before this, too), so maybe it was intended 🤔🤔?

Anyways, in conclusion

Me, the reader, to Knives:

[thereader-radhika]

5- Strategies and Solicitude

Part 1, 2, 3, 4

Madurai

"Tanjai has fallen" Can a few words give so much happiness to anyone? This is rivalled only by the happiness he felt when Kanchi fell. Jatilan was dancing as he hugged the guards who were with him. Gladdened by the sudden display of the prince's happiness and affection, they too started dancing. Much to his embarassment, Ravidasan called him 'Natarajan' and the other guards clapped and cheered even more. But Menandros kept himself busy as usual.

"Why don't you too join them and have some fun, Thalapathi?"

"Later. Now we have work to do, come."

Veera Pandyan pondered over the situation over a glass of toddy. He traced his fingers across a map which outlined the current holdings of different chieftains. Subjugation of Pallavas and the over-reliance on Pazhuvettaraiyars ultimately backfired on Cholas as there weren't enough troops or strong leadership to counter the unexpected attack on Kanchi and Tanjai. Some spies reported that Pallava forces didn't even bother to fight much. When you make peace with being a vassal, it doesn't matter if a new overlord replaces the former one.

However Tanjaiyum Kanchiyum konda (Conquerer of Tanjore and Kanchipuram) Kannara Devan gaining too much foothold in the region will hamper their rise. The king's secret council suggested that they should arrange for at least one Pazhavoor prince to return and capture Tanjai. Pazhuvettaraiyars fighting on multiple fronts will eventually weaken Cholas too. If they have to strike, they need to heat the iron themselves.

°°°°°°

Mazhappadi

Prince Amarabhujanga Jatilavarman tried his best to convince Mazhavarayar Madhavan that they aren't testing his loyalty. According to the secret council, the disgraced former chieftain of Mazhappadi is indeed the best candidate to plant an idea or two among Cholas. They will think that the man is just trying to reclaim the lost prestige of his clan. But the he dramatically beat his chest like a monkey and declared that he is a faithful servant of the meenkodi. If he wanted to betray them, he could have done it before this.

Manimaran, the one of ministers who escorted Jatilan and led the discussions, looked like he is itching to remind Madhavan of the times he tried to get into the good graces of Kodandaraman. But he managed to accomplish their task without any undesirable diatribe. Manimaran's adept management of the situation remained Ravidasan that he has much to learn about the practical ways of handling conflict in different scenarios.

Nevertheless can't this "help" genuinely endear him to the tigers? No one can blame him if he uses this opportunity as a ladder since the clan has suffered a lot for siding with the losing side. Ravidasan couldn't offer any better suggestions either. So he stayed quiet and concentrated on the prince's bodyguard duty, which was an even more tedious task than he expected. The boy is quite restless.

"I don't want you to follow me everywhere".

"We are the humble servants of your father, ilavarase."

"I order you to stand down and relax. If you don't want to relax, these people are planning to host a villupattu tonight. Help them with the arrangements."

"Our orders come from the Emperor himself".

"Ravi anna, you all please stay here and give us some privacy."

Us? Oh, that. Technically, they are supposed to taste the prince's food, accompany him everywhere and talk to everyone before they meet the prince. As the daughter of a respectable family, Uma Maheshwari might refuse to be treated like a commoner girl. Finally, they reached a compromise.

How could he forget the young prince's infatuation? Isn't that why Jatilan volunteered to come here in the first place? Though Madhavan offered to send a few of his men with them, they turned down the courtesy saying that the prince needs some relaxation after the tiresome deliberations. Ravidasan resisted the urge to playfully scoff with a roll of his eyes and tease him as they walked to the temple.

They were expecting to hear songs and the jingling of dancing bells but a doomed silence permeated the atmosphere. He observed them from a distance as Jatilan slowly approached a beautiful forlorn girl. Finally - the famous Uma Maheshwari! A pair of dance bells were placed on a platform near her seat and the crimson hue on the girl's cheeks indicated that she was aware of their, no, the prince's presence.

Ravidasan was even more surprised to hear the girl complaining about her "Parameshwaran" not visiting her earlier and prolonging their marriage. The girl is as fascinated about him as he is about her. So it isn't a mere one-sided crush as everyone thought! He didn't even dare to think what these crazy children are doing as he concentrated on the patterns on the Nandi statue. Their marriage was a topic discussed in the secret council but most people were against it as it will only result in Paranthakan keeping Mazhavarayar at an arm's length. May the Lord of Mazhappadi help his devotees to fulfill their desires!

Ponnar meniyane pulitholai araikisaithu, Minnar senchadaimel milirkondrai anindavane, Manne maamaniye mazhapadiyul manikkame, Anne unnai allal ini yarai ninaikene . . . (O Siva with the golden body! O Siva wearing the tiger skin on your waist and bright kondrai flowers on the lightning like matted locks! O king! O the great gem! O the ruby in Mazhapadi town! O mother! Who else except you will I think about!)

@celestesinsight @whippersnappersbookworm @sambaridli @harinishivaaa @sakhiiiiiii @sampigehoovuu @willkatfanfromasia @favcolourrvibgior

Part 6, 7, 8

[coldresolve]

yeah, nah, fuck it. im sharing this post and then i'm just gonna link to it whenever it becomes relevant.

every disagreement i have with yall always comes back to me phrasing things in a way that sounds mean. always, always. like duh, i dont try to sugarcoat how i see things, i have realized that, in fact i do it on purpose. why? well.

i come from a culture where it's often interpreted as deceitful and/or shallow to sandwich your point in with superficial courtesy. if you spend too much time packing your point in with whatever you think will make it easier to swallow, people will start to feel like you're infantalizing them, or straight up wasting their time. being direct and honest from the get-go is seen as a sign of respect - yes, even if what you're saying could easily be interpreted as rude. say what you think, say exactly how you feel, and we'll take it from there. that kinda thing.

when i say an opinion or criticise something on here, i am treating you, the reader, like someone who is smart enough to understand the gist of my argument without being bogged down by its delivery, mature enough to recognize the difference between criticism of your work (or general trends) and criticism of you as a person, and emotionally well-adjusted enough to not pin your self-worth on the negative opinions some random guy on the internet might have of something you do/create/like.

i am showing you respect by talking to you as if you are an adult who can deal with what i might have to say. if you're not, and you can't, i expect you to have the wherewithall to not engage with me. i could at the very least respect that. alternatively, you're also welcome to disagree with my points, obviously. i'm always up for a good discussion.

but you responding to criticism like mine with defensiveness, affront, or worse, the idea that you're now justified to go after the criticiser as a person, only comes across to me like immaturity, self-consciousness, self-importance, and in some cases - deliberate or not - obtusiveness. see how that cultural divide can go both ways?

we're probably not gonna find common ground here. i'm tired of being interpreted as aggressive all the time, but i have no intention of conforming to the american ideal of social courtesy, because it makes me feel shallow, disingenuous and fake. meanwhile, you're probably not gonna be able to hear me speak without shaking the knee-jerk feeling that i'm purposefully ignoring the sensitivity of others (because objectively, i am).

so do we chuck the whole thing up to different culturally determined approaches to communicating our ideas? can we keep a shred of respect and mutual understanding and leave it at that?

or are you gonna insist that i'm immoral/rude/aggressive/callous/antagonistic/attacking people/etc, for voicing my own opinions, in my own way, on my own blog - in which case i, in turn, will feel perfectly content to just consider you an inherently silly person?

as far as i can tell, it's one or the other.

(also please please recognize the difference between using culture as an excuse, and pointing out a very real cultural divide that influences both how i communicate and how you interpret how i communicate. my point is that we're gonna keep talking past each other unless we adress the fact that we approach communication with very different goals in mind, mine being effectiveness and honesty and yours being courtesy and social sensitivity. i am also not saying that either one of these is "the right way" to communicate. don't read shit into my takes that isn't there to begin with. thx)

[pudgy-planets]

“Oh please, just call me Wool. I’m not anywhere near old enough for ‘mister’”

He laughed softly, slinging the overfilled satchel’s strap over his shoulder and gave it a firm tug, making sure it’s secure

“Well, you just saved my skin, Samantha, so how ‘bout I repay you? I got some pretty cool stuff on me, or I can make you the best damn coffee you could ever have, that I am very certain of. Or I can just buy you some food. What’ll it be? I am at your service, my friend”

He seemed unbothered by her cold expression, likely picking up on just how warm her aura was. His face was one of glee, not letting a quick brush with death making him any less cheerful

“It’s a force of habit, adressin’ people with the same respect you’d want back is common courtesy is all.”

Samantha replied quietly, cracking her fingers and exercising the muscles in her hand. This was an eccentric stranger for certain, though the redhead was far from unfamiliar with oddities in her life.

“Ya don’t have to buy me food or anythin’. Or coffee for that matter, I can make it myself. Literally. Matter of fact, ya don’t have to repay me at all. I’m content with simply helpin’ people out wherever I can… but I do have a question.”

The tall goth leaned down, her intimidating shadow enshrouding Wool and dropping the temperature by a few degrees.

“Why was that behemoth chasin’ after you? I don’t want to assume the worst.”

[kwistowee]

Hey Hollywood: if you don't like it, respect it, or understand it, don't touch it.

[malf-oy]

hehe im working on ideas for my next big fic and thought maybe people might be interested in this pansmione scene i just wrote... you know, for testing purposes...

just girls in a bathroom smoking cigarettes (pansy/hermione - 1,062 words)

“You’ve seriously never done this before?” Pansy Parkinson says, sounding as judgemental as she sounds surprised.

“Believe it or not, no. Filling my lungs with tar has never been an ambition of mine, thanks,” Hermione returns the judgemental tone tenfold. “Besides, we’re in a public place. Smoking is prohibited, in case you’ve not been paying attention to the muggle news.”

Parkinson flicks her lighter without a care and brings it to the fag sticking from her red painted lips. 

Hermione scoffs and turns to the mirror to finish fixing her hair pin, cursing Ron for carelessly pulling at her hair and cursing Pansy Parkinson for being here at all. She’ll not be roped in when Pansy gets caught with a cigarette in her hand. “It’s a filthy habit,” Hermione complains out loud. 

“Do you always do everything you’re told?” Pansy leans against the wall, her cigarette pinched between two painted fingers. Her voice has that sexy raspy quality that could only have been the result of far too many cigarettes in far too short a time. Her voice had never been quite so rough in their school days. 

“No,” Hermione says shortly. “I do, however, understand the importance of common courtesy and the basic principles of respect.”

“Bully for you,” Pansy’s lips spread into a smokey smirk.

Hermione rolls her eyes as she cranes her arms behind her head and tries to recreate the same style she’d spent hours perfecting that the day, trying to hold it all in place so she could slide the pin into just the right spot, but she couldn’t find it, and her arms were growing tired. She dropped them with a grunt of frustration.

“Here, let me,” Pansy says, words half muffled by the cigarette pinched between her lips. She takes another hit then holds it out to Hermione. “Hold this.”

Hermione almost refuses, but she’s so bloody frustrated with her hair. She’s never figured out how to do it easily. She’ll style it when she has to, but it takes her ages and she doesn’t care enough to spend that amount of time. It never came easy to her the way it seemed to come to all the girls in the dorms growing up, and now as an adult she spends most days at work with her hair pulled back in a tight bun. No amount of spells made it easy. The potions helped, but she despises the way they straighten her hair. Pansy, however, has the look of a girl who knew how it worked, even if it hadn’t come easily to her.

So Hermione takes the cigarette from Pansy and holds it pinched between two fingers, her arm outstretched to hold the smelly thing as far away from her as possible.

Pansy steps up behind her and reaches for a handful of Hermione’s hair and holds it in place, but then she changes it, moving it up higher.

“Just put it back the way it was, please,” Hermione says stiffly.

“Oh, please. That was so bloody boring, you look like you’ve just come from a day at the office like that,” Pansy twists her hair a bit so it sits high on Hermione’s head and some spills down the sides. “Trust me on this, you’ll look incredible.”

“Whatever, just hurry up. I don’t fancy holding this thing all night,” Hermione waves the cigarette around.

“C’mon, Granger. Live a little. Give it a hit,” Pansy says into her ear, her rasping voice rolling lowly down Hermione’s spine. “We’re in the loo, no one’s watching. Be a little bad.”

“I’ve lived plenty, thank you.”

“Well then bring it here, won’t you?” Pansy says while still holding Hermione’s hair up with both hands, unable to take the cigarette. Hermione huffs a breath but brings the cigarette closer. Parkinson leans forward, her breasts pressing into Hermione’s shoulder as she puts her lips around the cigarette and inhales.

Already breathless, Hermione is soon flooded with the smoke all around her as Pansy exhales directly over her shoulder. She feels flushed, suddenly very warm in the dimly lit club bathroom. She looks into the mirror and sees Pansy behind her, a few inches taller but only because of the platform boots she wore. 

In something of a daze, Hermione brings the cigarette to her lips and takes a drag. She hates it immediately and begins coughing viciously as her lungs reject the horrible intruder. Pansy just laughs and lets go of her hair to clap her on the back. Hermione gags and spits into the sink and turns on the faucet to wash away the evidence.

“Too rough for you?” Pansy’s voice still trembles with laughter.

“That was disgusting! Why would anyone smoke that willingly?” 

“Because it feels good. You get used to the taste,” Pansy shrugs. She gathers Hermione’s hair in her hands again and pulls it up high again, beginning to pin it into place. She twists some pieces, pulls others out, and within a few minutes she steps back to look at her work with a satisfied smile.

She takes the cigarette from Hermione’s grasp, her fingers warm and soft as they brush against Hermione’s. She takes a hit and nods toward the mirror. “What do you think?”

Hermione had been so busy staring at Pansy she’d forgotten to look at her own hair. It looks fun. That’s the only word Hermione can think of to describe it. It falls in some places in that purposefully messy type of way, it spills out at the top and the long ends tickle her neck. Pansy had made it seem so effortless, but Hermione would have never been able to picture a style like this on herself, much less implement it in less time than it took for the cigarette to burn out.

“Hold on,” Pansy says, withdrawing her wand. She flicks it and a puff of glitter rains out over Hermione’s head, sticking to her hair and her skin. When the dust settles, Pansy leans in, resting her chin on Hermione’s shoulder, bringing that cigarette scent back. “There, all done. Beautiful.”

Hermione’s lips part, the only thing she can think is about how soft Pansy’s skin feels against her own. Though she knows Ron is still out there, somewhere in the club waiting for her return, Hermione has a sudden, overwhelming urge to taste Pansy Parkinson’s lips.

[jilymicrofics]

Acknowledgement of Event Feedback: Valentines Gift Exchange

Thank you to those who took the time to fill out the survey or gave informal feedback for the Jily Valentines Gift Exchange. It’s been very helpful to know how you all felt the event went and hope we can improve for future events. - if the user who left feedback about requests/matchups in the survey could reach out it would be appreciated so we can have some further clarification that’d be awesome!

Here’s a breakdown of the feedback which was:

91.7% of you felt you had enough time to do assignments

100% of you found the number of check ins reasonable

100% of you would like to see the event become an annual event

100% of you found yourself likely to take part again (53.8% highly likely) 

83.3% of you think an allowance of 1 week between due dates and reveals would be appropriate.  

Use of AO3 to sign up & Match Ups

The majority of users found the signup instructions on AO3 clear and easy to follow but it was the first time using AO3 this way so was initially a little confusing. 

There was some concerns around matchups: Anxiety around not knowing who you would be matched up with and whether or not that person's style would match yours and/or being someone you don’t necessarily get on with. 

We can appreciate not everyone in fandom gets along with one another and acknowledge the nature of the AO3 signups doesn’t account for that. So sign ups will be changing going forward. Some more info about what to provide in the appropriate fields was also requested. 

In light of this feedback here’s how things will run moving forward:

The event will become an annual occurrence. 

Sign ups will be done via a google form and participants will be reached out to via tumblr or discord. Discord being the preferred method of contact due to Tumblr’s messaging constraints - quite frankly we don’t want to find ourselves shadow banned over contacting participants  🤣

Fields in this form will allow for you to provide more info with very specific instructions. Answers to these questions are required in order to complete the sign up form. This should prevent vague sign up requests. 

Note: We can only work with what you choose to provide so we suggest filling out sign ups carefully for the best results.

A field will also be provided so that you can include people you do not want to gift to for whatever reason (e.g. you don’t get on, you don’t know them very well, have gifted to them before etc.) You do not have to supply a reason for why you don’t want to gift to them and this information remains confidential with the moderation team. This event is all about fun and creating more jily to enjoy.

This means future matchups will be taken care of by a moderation team and not purely done randomly by AO3. Randomisation of parings will still be performed but you won’t have to worry about being paired with someone from your ‘do not pair list’. 

There will still be a collection for the event available on AO3 that will be moderated and keep works unrevealed until the reveal date. 

There will be up to a 1 week delay between submission deadlines and the reveals. We understand sometimes things crop up in real life that put unforeseen strain on deadlines or cause people to need to pull out of an event. This buffer is there to accommodate that. However it is common courtesy to let mods know in advance if you are going to be unable to complete or be late handing in an assignment. Please show the mod team that respect so they can sort something out. 

The current plan is to have sign ups for next year's event start in December so watch this space! We also now have a dedicated Events Tab on the blog for info about past, current and upcoming events. 

If you have any more feedback to give on events please don’t hesitate to reach out. Our asks and DMs are always open (we don’t bite!) 

~Charms ♥

[butterfly-resources]

please stop spamming the gif commission tags!! You've already posted over 30 posts in just THREE DAYS FFS!!!!! you're in need we get it but the thing is you're not the only one, other creators from the community are in need of help too and you're blocking them to be seen with posting the same thing over and over again, that's not fair and honestly is kinda shitty from you please just stop or you will get reported to tumblr for spam

Okay, I am going to come at this from a polite manner- which you did not- and say this: I am always respectful to everyone in the RP community and always have been. I am courteous, I am helpful, I am respectful. If you are going to come into my inbox for any reason, please act the same. There are a thousand ways to say something that isn’t as rude as the way you approached it, but you opted not to take the more polite route. That says a lot.

Secondly, I already lowered the queue for posts twice. I am not posting every five seconds; I am not posting every hour; I have it queued down. If the amount I lowered it down to still makes it flood through the tag, honestly, I would have no way of knowing that. I am focusing on trying to keep myself afloat and not checking the tag.

"Shitty" implies I am purposely trying to spam other people out of the tag which I am not and would never do. I do not go on the tags on tumblr. I haven't in years. I have no way of knowing how many things get posted in a tag per day. It should also be noted I took a year break from tumblr and when I was last here, the tag was popping so no, it isn't shitty. Because it is not intentional or hoping to A) distract from others, B) harm others, C) flush them out. Misinformed? Sure, I will admit to that. But for it to be 'shitty' there has to be ill-intent and I have no ill-intent towards anyone in the RPC.

That being said- the polite, appropriate way to broach this would have been to say something like, “Hey, I know you were asked before to lower the amount of posts a day but can you lower it further? It's flooding the tags.” That is- A) polite, B) asks what you want to ask, and C) is informative without being accusatory.

Now, despite how disrespectfully this was broached, I will lower the queue again. Not, in the end, for you, given your complete disregard for common courtesy, but for other creators in the tag. Again, I do not check the tag as I am busy trying to keep myself afloat and have never been a tag searcher, as I said, but I have enough respect for them as other creators to do that- and if you are a creator, all you had to do was shoot me a message and politely tell me that the tag was overwhelming over posts, perhaps even yours, and I would have lowered it again.

However, in the future, please remember that there are human beings on the other side of these inboxes who deserve the same respect and courtesy as anyone else.

And despite how rudely this message was worded, I wish you nothing but the best as I do every creator in the RPC.

Thank you.

Edit: As I said, I do not go through the tags, but if you are a creator who also has a similar commissions post in the tag you want me to reblog to signal boost, let me know. I would love to do that in the event I have followers who don't check the tag so they can see your posts as well.

[1teamdotai]

Setting Effective Team Communication Guidelines

Every well functioning team is dependent on effective team communication. 

And in the last couple of years, tools have become increasingly popular for enhancing communication among team members. But it comes at a cost. 

With emails, instant messaging, video meetings – communication did become easy. But it also became endless. 

Soon we were all stuck in a loop of constant availability and boundless communication. 

And that’s precisely why we need communication guidelines. Let’s dig deeper. 

Team communication impacts everything

Effective team communication can help you improve team productivity, customer relationship, company culture, and sales. 

That’s right. Communication plays a role in driving every aspect of business. 

When team communication happens the right way, it makes work easier and improves the company culture. This enhances team productivity and morale by maintaining a healthy and positive work environment. Not only does employee retention increase, but so does customer satisfaction and engagement due to lesser errors and gaps. 

Once you master this process, teams will run like a well oiled machine.

The 5 C’s of Team Communication

Effective team communication is all about what’s the best fit for the team members. Some teams might prefer humour in their everyday communication. Whereas, other teams might prefer a more formal tone of voice while communicating. 

But there are 5 common points where all teams intersect. And they make up the base for communication guidelines. 

Clarity

When communicating with another team member, clarity should be your priority. Not just clarity in words, but clarity in your thoughts. 

For instance, if you’re communicating a problem, you must have clarity of thought about the problem you’re facing and only then can you effectively communicate it to a team member.

Encouraging team members to have more clarity in their communication will enable them to understand better and eliminate any unnecessary flow of information. 

Pro tip: When aiming for clarity in communication, use simple and easy language, short sentences and concrete words. 

Conciseness 

Communication should always be brief and to the point. You cannot expect a team member to go through your 200 word email about something that could have been summed up in 50 words. 

Concise framing is a prerequisite to effective team communication. It saves both yours and the team member’s time. 

Pro tip: When aiming for conciseness in communication, remove wordy expressions and avoid repetition.  

Courtesy

Team communication has a lot to do with your relationship with the team. Teams that get along well are able to communicate easily. 

An important part of this relationship is treating your team members with respect. And since everyday work communication is where your teams interact the most, courtesy should be well incorporated in your communication guidelines. 

Simply using polite words like ‘thank you’ and ‘please’ isn’t enough. It’s your overall tone that makes a bigger impact. 

Pro tip: When aiming for courtesy in communication, be sincere in your tone and be appreciative of your team member’s time. 

Completeness 

If you want the desired result from communication, it must be complete in every sense. 

Teams should be careful while drafting messages. Team members must ensure that all relevant information and facts required by the receiver is mentioned in the message.

Team members shouldn’t have to communicate back and forth to understand each other well. Incompleteness in communication also shows negligence on the sender’s part and is something teams need to overcome quickly. 

Pro tip: When aiming for completeness in communication, remember to include the ‘how, why, what, when, and who’ to clearly communicate the information.  

Channels

You’ve drafted the right message, included all relevant information, and provided full clarity. But where do you send it? And when?

Channels are perhaps the most important aspect of team communication. They define the space and time in which team communication happens. 

Again, different channels work differently for each team. Some prefer Slack for everyday communication. While others prefer sending a WhatsApp text to their team members. 

But you need to understand – the real solution doesn’t lie in which channel to use, it is to have a definitive channel for each type of communication that happens in your team. 

Pro tip: Identify and organise communication channels for better and enhanced communication. 

Conclusion

When teams have more awareness about the 5 C’s, effective team communication becomes simple. 

Higher awareness can enhance your skills and help you be a better communicator. 

As the team grows and evolves, more channels come up, it is important to revisit and iterate these guidelines too. Ideally, every team should come back and review their team communication guidelines every six months. This will ensure everything is aligned and well functioning. 

[exovapor]

Hello fellow INFJ!! I decided to come out of hiding and submit an idea for your brain to run with and hopefully develop into a blurb.

So Leo…. What can we say about the serious but (I head canon) easily flustered turtle that is all about respect and honor? What could he possibly think of their partner body worshiping them.

I mean who wouldn’t worship this!

Can I just say I would start with an intimate kiss to the forehead then work my way down from there 😉

Hi sweetie. My apologies this took so long to get out to you but other stories and life got in the way. I hope you consider this worth the wait. I did pull in a lot of INFJ tendencies for the reader and I hope you can connect with 'her' and see yourself in her. Thank you SO MUCH for trusting me with this Ask. I am honored and blessed that you sent in this idea and I hope I did it justice.

Just beware: The initial idea for this story was to follow it through the exploration of more of Leo’s body and to allow the passion to blaze, but as this story developed and took on a life of its own, it felt complete right in this moment with them. However, there is more still in my mind, so if you would like to see it progress and you would like a part two to this story, please let me know.

Body Worshipping Leo

· You never thought you’d get to see this, you think to yourself as you watch the fluid movements of his body run through their daily katas.

· You had arrived earlier than you had expected. Earlier than they had expected. It was courtesy on Master Splinter’s part to offer you a seat on the edges of the training area for you to watch their daily practice. The old rat’s comforting voice carries over to you from the middle of the affray, giving corrective instructions and words of praise to his pupils.

· They, all four, move with precision, finesse, and power; but his movements have a little something extra: Art and grace.

· From his handsome head, which is always calculating, strategizing, anticipating, down to the soles of his feet, which are steady and planted, yet swift to take flight at a second’s notice, everything about his movements, his body, screams perfection.

· Yes, watching him move is mesmerizing, breath-taking, even at times, soul-wrenching.

· You feel a stubborn lump form in your throat that will not ease, but at least it silences the hiccups that threaten to escape from your awe-struck sobs.

· The beauty that his body is creating is just too magnificent to behold and not feel emotionally moved. So, you gently weep watching his contending-inspired dance as you would weep over any masterful performance.

· Another sniffle escapes you and you subtly wipe a stray tear away from the corner of your eye before any of them can take notice of your emotional state. It would be disrespectful to cause a scene and distract them while you were invited in on such a private and profound family routine.

· You have been a common addition to their small group for a while, yet you have only been ‘officially’ dating the eldest terrapin for a few months. A smile ghosts your lips at the memories of how naturally it everything blossomed and came together. You have never been felt more connected and comfortable with anyone in your life. Leo is like the other half of your soul and being with him has a feeling of being complete and content.

· Well…sort of content. The pragmatic leader moves with caution in all things and your relationship is no exception. While you two have shared many hours of cuddling in front of the tv or while reading, and a few chasten pecks to the lips when greeting or parting for the night, Leonardo’s lips have yet to linger long enough on your skin to allow any type of passion to ignite between you.

· While you aren’t exactly sure of the reasons behind his slow pace, you have guessed it has something to do with your differences.

· He seems to be very careful around you. His hands stay in full view and his movements are deliberate and soft. He tends to let you initiate physical contact and his hugs are never too crushing. There seem to be tense moments after his soft kisses, his penetrating eyes search yours for untold secrets. It is like he is studying your reaction, looking for minute hints of aversion or doubt.

· As you watch him spin in a full body twist to evade a punishing blow from his sparring partner, Raph, you make up your mind to change the languishing conditions of your relationship. Such a beautiful creature needs to know that he is accepted.

· You mentally scoff at the overly simple word ‘accepted’. No, he isn’t just accepted; he is, without a doubt, cherished and loved.

· You hear the Sensei call for them all to come in close and kneel. He pairs his hands in a triangle before him and bows his head and shoulders prior to addressing his pupils. After his moment of reverence, his quiet, yet sage voice speaks of how proud he is of their continued progress and teamwork. He offers each one a moment of individual wisdom and then dismisses them. The old rat offers you a kind smile from across the room as the boys put away their weapons before he moves off to his meditation corner.

· Each of the guys start filing out of the dojo past you, going to get their showers and move off to their regular hobbies. Leo is the last to head toward the exit. He is diligent about making sure that the area is clean and ready for the next lesson. As he approaches the edge of the training area he offers you his hand to help you rise and blesses you with a sweet smile before bestowing one of those chastened kisses to the top of your head. You inwardly sigh to yourself, wishing it had at least made it to your lips.

· Again, you see his bright eyes searching yours intently and you hope that your eyes are no longer holding on to pink hues from getting emotional. “I am sorry you had to wait for me. Is everything okay?”, he asks, still grasping your hand and pulling you along with him to the general living space. Damn it, your eyes must still be flushed.

· You are both now standing in the living room space and a very active Mikey is bouncing on the sofa cushions and yelling into his gaming headset about “ambushing campers!”. You swallow hard and try to steady your voice so that it, too, doesn’t give you away, “Actually, Leo,…I’d…uh…I’d like to talk about something with you.”. Leo’s stride falters as he turns to face you, you can see a disquiet in his clear eyes, his brow knits together in concern. If you were a mind reader you would have heard the alarmed voice going off his head, ‘this is it, she’s telling me that a mutant turtle isn’t what she’s always wanted, she can’t do this anymore. Just look at her eyes, something is upsetting her, she must have been crying over telling me’.

· Another overly animated exclamation about “dirty, cheating, no-good-camping-losers” flows out of Mikey’s mouth and you glance his way at the volume at which he’s yelling before you look back at Leo’s handsome face. “Perhaps some place a bit more quiet?”, you suggest to him, which does nothing to belay his internal discomfort. He licks his lips, which now feel as dry as a desert, and tries to steel his voice, “Yeah, sure. We can talk in my room.”, he gestures with one hand in a ‘ladies first’ motion.

· As you walk past him you try to offer a smile, but your own nerves are starting to get out of control just by the plan you have in mind. You could be about to lose the best thing that’s ever happened to you just by pushing the boundaries. If you are wrong and his caution isn’t about differences but about something else, you could be dooming your relationship by pushing too hard too fast. As you enter Leo’s unadulterated bedroom, you take a deep breath and turn to face your blue clad terrapin.

· Leo closes the door and seems to be unsure of what to do next. He’s still standing just behind the door, looking at the ground when his solemn voice breaks the silence, “So, what do you want to talk about?”. Your heart clenches a bit when you notice that he didn’t look at you when he asked the question. Does he suspect your angle? Is he already thinking of things to say to placate you or let you down easy? Your anxiety level starts to peak.

· “Can you…can you come over and sit down? This is pretty important and I need time to explain”, you say while rubbing your hands together out of nervous habit. Leo nods his head and walks over to the bed, but you notice that he gives you a wider breadth than he normally would when he walks past.

· Leo sits heavily on the edge of his bed and looks at you expectantly. Now it is your turn to lick your overly dry lips. Where to begin? You twist your delicate fingers to the point of popping one by accident, which snaps you into motion…quite literally. Another nervous habit when discussing important things, you pace.

· “Leo, I consider the day I met you to be one of the best days of my entire life”, you say, glancing at him as you pace by him, to the walk to the wall and back. “You are smart, kind, considerate, confident, and truly amazing…”, you say leaving it hanging in the air for a moment while you think about your next words carefully. How do you tell him you want, no you need, more connection with him? That you are in love with him, as a whole being, and that he doesn’t need to be afraid of what he is with you. You know this is new territory for him and you don’t want this to seem like an attack on his experience. You also don’t want to seem inconsiderate or unappreciative of his kindness and respect.

· “But…”, you hear him say from his seated position on the bed. You turn to him. You're a little shocked to hear a ‘but’ offered up, did he think you were pulling away from him? You study him for a moment and notice that his body language has changed dramatically, his once squared shoulders are slumping, his jaw is clenched in tension, and his once clear eyes seem dim.

· Seeing him looking…defeated and resigned…you take pity on him and decide to throw all caution to the wind. You are feeling bad enough by pushing him for more intimacy, but now, if he thinks you’re trying to leave him, that is even worse.

· You walk quickly to him and cup his face in your hands to make sure he hears what you say clearly and thoroughly, “There’s no ‘but’ Leo. What I’m trying to say, and obviously failing at it miserably, is that you are undoubtedly the best thing that has ever happened to me. I want to let you know that I admire you, that I adore you, that I cherish you, that I love every single thing about you, that…that…I think you are sexy”, you finish quietly, more than a little embarrassed by being so forward and using the word ‘sexy’ when you can barely get him to kiss you.

· Leo sits looking at you, making sure he’s heard you right. You two have never really discussed things of passion before now. Sure, he’s told you that you were pretty and beautiful, and you have always reciprocated with comments of how you thought he was cute (while you blushed as red as Raph’s mask), how you treasured his smile, but that was as far as your adoration of his body had gone. Sexy, that’s more than just a step up from the compliments that you have shared in the past. It’s more than he had dared hope for from someone as beautiful as you. He is, after all, an overgrown turtle. He has hard scales, not soft skin. He had hoped that, in time, with enough patience and kindness on his part, you would be able to eventually look past his exterior. That you would be able to see the good, caring person inside the hard outer shell. He NEVER thought you would ever consider him physically sexy. He honestly a little stunned by the comment, especially when he was expecting this conversation to go completely different. He sits staring at your face, “Sexy? You think I’m sexy?”, he asks a little incredulously.

· A little frustrated that you are having to repeat yourself when you aren’t the best as being this forward in the first place, you take a deep inhale and look deeply into his eyes. In his seated position you are just above eye level with him; so, before your repeat the words, you lean in and place a lingering kiss to his forehead. He watches the movement from his subjacent position, closing his eyes when your lips press into his plated brow, remaining long enough for the warmth of your lips to spread across his scales and down into the center of his chest. He inhales your scent, as sweet as confection, and he swears he can taste your sweetness on his tongue. Finally, you pull back and say, “Leonardo, from the top of your head, down to the bottom of your feet, I find you beautiful and, yes, sexy”.

· The normally confident leader sits in utter silence. His blue eyes are speaking volumes, they are shining with disbelief and hope. They are asking you if this is true? Is this real? Is this a dream? But his lips stay silent as you watch the storm of confusion and confessions roll through him.

· Deciding that your down-to-earth, sober, practical beau needs a little more convincing, you embark on your plan of showing him just how much he means to you, how much you appreciate his contrasting form. “I know you have your routine after training and that you hate breaking your routines, so I’m going to tell you how sexy you are as I help you get ready for your after-training shower.”.

· His eyes go from happy and shining to expanding in size and panicked looking, “Uh, no, you don’t have to do that...”. But you don’t let him talk you out of it, to silence his rebuttal, you quickly press your lips to his, making him choke on his words with the tensity of your attack. You stay pressed into his lips, moving yours in a caressing motion, opening them slightly to dab a touch of moisture on his bottom lip. This kiss is much deeper than the two of you have ever shared and your heart is racing from the feeling. His lips are initially tense from the surprise, but as your plump pout fondles his, adding dabs of your inner wetness for lubrication, you feel him exhale and relax, folding in closer to chase the tastes that you are offering him.

· Not wanting to push your luck with taking the kiss deeper, you pull back to cup his face again and gaze into his eyes, “Leo, trust me”, you plead earnestly. Despite the lingering doubt in his eyes, he gives a dip of his head, to convey he’s putting his trust in you. “Let’s get that mask off of your dazzling eyes”, you coo as you reach back to slowly pull at the knot that secures his signature color to his features. As you pluck at the knot, Leo’s hands start to rise to help, only to be halted mid-path by your small hands securely grabbing his,” Nah-ah. I’ve got this. Here, you hold on here…”, you say leading his sizable palms to your hips, “…now don’t let go.”.

· You hear him clear his throat and feel him tense up slightly from the placement of his hands and the command that was just given. As the binding of his mask finally gives way, you gently lift it from his bald head to stare admiringly at his naked face. Good god, he’s gorgeous. He’s handsome with his mask, but seeing his natural green face, unbroken by its swatch of blue, he’s breath-taking.

· You are lost in that thought as you stare down at him and, for you, time seemingly stands still. But, for Leo, he’s a little flustered at your enchanted stare. He feels vulnerable without his face armor. No one but his family has ever seen him in this way. The mask does more than signify who he is, it helps to hide parts of him that doesn’t quite fit in. Without his covering, it is more striking how hairless his reptilian face really is. You can now see that his eyes are not framed by thick arches of eyebrows. It is more noticeable and apparent that his Aquamarine eyes are not lined by fans of lashes. There are no helixes, antihelixes or pinna making up shells adorning the openings of his ear canals, only thin flaps of membranes protect his inner ears. The muddled markings of his yellow toned under-skin is highly contrasted by his vert scales and the long scar that crosses one side of his face is on full display. Despite the fact that he is still fully clothed, and it was only his bandana that you removed, he feels fully nude under your consistent gaze.

· You can see the hesitation and uncertainty in his eyes, you can see him intently searching your face for clues about how you feel viewing his testudinal face. Slowly, almost as if in a trace, your left hand rises to lightly skim your thumb along the crest of his bare brow ridge. However, following the movement with your eyes isn’t enough tactile stimulation for you, so you lean in to brush the soft curve of your lips over the hairless peak as well. You breathe in deeply and take in his heady essence, a mixture of salt, earthy musk, with notes of teakwood and clove oil. You exhale at the center of his brow bridge and state, more desperate than you wanted to sound, “You smell so good”. Leo hums in an appreciative tone, seemingly at a loss for words at your close proximity, but you feel his grip tighten on your hip bones as his own breathing deepens and becomes more forceful.

· Leo’s mind is almost at shut down mode. Of all the time he has spent around you, even cuddling you, he has never felt you this much. These touches, these connections, are on another level. The heat from your fingertips and lips seems scorching and the sensations are traveling to places that you aren’t even close to touching. Your scent appears to have changed since this exploration began, it feels more potent, it is overwhelming and stirring fires that shouldn’t be ignited, but he can’t help but drink it in, filling his lungs to capacity with you.

· Your fingers circle down to brush across his textured cheek before they glide back to pass over those shell-less ears. Your pout continues its expedition of his pebbled face, moving from the bridge of his brow, sliding a sensual line down his pronounced snout and placing a feathery kiss at the tip between his wide set nostrils. You lean your forehand to his as the two of you try to steady your breaths, your eyes closed, enjoying the moment of closeness and intimacy for the first time.

· Finally, you pull back and survey his face, your eyes connecting with his as if you were touching his soul, “Leo, you’re beautiful. Even saying that seems…inadequate for how much you move my heart”. You watch his cerulean eyes turn soft before he asks, “What did I do to deserve you?”.

· Again, you lean in and place another kiss to his lips. This time your efforts are met with eager reciprocation. Gone are the tentative pecks that he used on you in the past, now his mouth actively seeks full connection with yours. You can feel his hot breath escaping from between his lips that are parting more and more with each pass of each caress. As you start to pull away again, aiming to continue your praising of his body, you swear you feel a small nip to your bottom lip followed by a slight rumble through his chest.

· Smiling at that your plan for pushing the intimacy boundary has gone so well, you pry his left hand off your right hip to continue assisting with getting him ready for his shower. Still keeping eye contact with him, you lift his large hand to your face and place a prolonged kiss to each of his three fingertips before you start to unwind the sports tape that is encasing his palm and his wrist. As you unravel the bindings you place a kiss to each newly uncovered surface. Your nurturing efforts earn you another interesting rumble from his chest, this vibration sounds more enduring in length, almost like a purr.

· Leo swears his heart stops each time your rosy lips touch a fingertip. His eyes watching the movement of your tasteful petals stroke across the surface of his digitals. Tension setups in his body with each press of your pout and things twitch each time sensual suckling sound leaves your mouth. He berates his body for betraying him and dishonoring you as you show him such adoration. He tries to keep his thoughts from straying too far from respect, but good heavens your lips look and feel too inviting…the thoughts find a way in not matter how hard he tries to deny them.

· As you finish your kissing of his palm and wrist of his left hand, you slide your hands up the rest of his arm, becoming aware of the rippling tension in his forearm, circling over the angle of his elbow, allowing your own palms to ride the waves of his large tricep and bicep, smoothing him over as you go. As you reach his left shoulder, the left arm that you just stroked and petted, loops around your hips and pulls you in close. His head lowers down to snuggle into your abdomen, almost in defeat. Leo can’t take it anymore; he feels a natural, primal need to bury himself in you somehow and the most honorable way that he can think of doing that is to embed his snout into you and breathe you in as deeply as he can.

· As Leo hides his face into your midsection, you pull his right hand loose from your body and begin to fawn over it as you did his left. Each inch of tape that is untied, unwound, and bestowed with a kiss has Leo feeling more bound to you. He senses you stealing parts of him soul with each touch of endearment. As your hands slide up his arm, the muscles tense and flex, begging for attention. Each kiss you plant to his textured skin earns a graveled, desperate vocalization from interred terrapin.

· When you reach his right shoulder, you are now fully encircled by two massive arms and his face is refusing to leave your stomach. Every now and then, as he nuzzles his head around, giving into to ancient, primitive desires to mark you and cover himself with your scent, trying to dig deeper into you, he places at kiss to your tummy which shoots electricity straight down to your core. Your unique perfume is starting to become noticeable, which is not helping Leo’s predicament at all.

· As you stand fully trapped in his arms, his head dug into you as deep as he can push without causing you pain, you can feel him panting, growling, and even at times you think you pick up the sound of whining. To soothe you turtle beau, you run your nails up and down and across his shell. The action causing reverberation through his boney carapace, which flows down his back and creeps up his neck, soothing and tickling all at the same time, for a turtle it is a petting akin to ecstasy.

· As you hear his panting ease and feel the tension in his shoulders and arms subside, you cup the back of his bald head to your abdomen with your right hand, cradling him there for comfort, allowing him to rest and just be close and held by you. Your left hand runs itself over the back of his shoulders and on the delicate skin hiding underneath his shell, stroking him down from the high. It’s a moment of intimacy you never want to end. It feels so natural, so right.

· Eventually, his head dips, the top of his cobblestoned head taking the space where his face was embedded into you and you hear him whisper toward the floor, “I love you”. Your body gives a little shake from the chuckle that moves through you and as you pet the back of his head and neck, “I love you too, Leo.”. Mission successful.

· Finally, he lifts his gaze and holds your stare as he stands from the bed. Your eyes follow him obediently, never breaking contact. He’s towering over you, looking down at your petite form, and then pulls you in for a hug. Your body molds into his, touching as many surfaces, at once, that you can touch. Relishing the connection, the lack of limits and boundaries. You feel his hard form encircling you, protecting you, cherishing you.

· “I don’t want to let you go”, Leo whispers into the top of your head. Again, you give a small chuckle and tell him, “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Go get your shower. I’ll be here when you get back.”.

· You hear a resigned sigh from above you, you feel his fingers under your chin, demanding that it lift. Your face follows the silent command, and your lips are met with kiss so full of passion and love that it steals your breath away. Before he pulls back completely, he gives one of those cute pecks to the tip of your nose, “Okay, I’ll be right back.”.

· You watch the other half of your soul grab his towel from a hook on the wall and leave the room with a profound look back, his eyes telling you without a doubt that he’ll always be with you.

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