#I think wasps are gorgeous!

[vampirepuppygirl]

You know, I don't hate wasps, in theory, they're necessary members of the ecosystem and they're just vibing

But I also have a literal anxiety disorder that causes compulsive movement and I don't think anyone actually understands that?

I'm not doing it on purpose when I make Distressed™ sounds and start twitching and pacing when there's a wasp

I literally cannot fight the compulsion to move, it's like a coiled spring being released. I have actively tried to remain still with wasps and bees around me and you know what happens every single time? I have a panic attack and have to go inside.

I know that they are not out to harm me and I know that staying still is better, but you know what?

My body doesn't care. I physically cannot keep still. And the more it is around me the greater the compulsion builds in my gut and in my chest until I just physically cannot stop myself from moving.

I like watching wasps through the window! Or through a screen! And I typically try not to kill them!

But like

I'm not just being dramatic, or an "entitled human."

I have a goddamn disorder. And I'm trying to work on it, but like, how the hell are you supposed to work on something when your body gets hijacked by your fear response? That's literally where like 70% of my problems come from in general.

It's all related and it all feeds into each other.

I literally can't "just hold still."

[flame-shadow]

eventually, im gonna have to make a collage of all my anthro wasp character designs. ive made a lot already over the past couple years, even though most are just sketches.

[intheholler]

classist discourse is getting a lot of traffic to the blog, and so i wanna make something clear:

this blog is for the river rats. for the rural dwellers who go to "town" for what they need; it's 45 minutes away and everyone calls it "town" because it has the closest food lion.

it's for the box fans and the ceiling fans and pipe dreams of central AC in july. for the "it's not the heat, it's the humidity" and the resulting wild, untameable hair.

this blog is for the patchwork quilt your mama made you and the one her mama made her and the one you wished you learned how to make for you and yours. same goes for them buttermilk biscuits your mamaw made that you kick yourself for never watching her make closely enough.

it's for those who know the difference between "sweet tea" and "tea with sugar in it." this blog is for the pintos and biscuits, for kids whose dads would pull the tobacco from their cigarettes to place on the wasp sting you got running barefoot in the fields.

it's for the banjos and the folklore and the folk songs, for that gorgeous mountain drawl that colors the lyrics. it's for every monosyllabic word that you speak with two syllables and it's for every time you've ever been insulted for it.

this blog is for anyone from appalachia or the south who ever hated themselves for where they were born, and especially those who tried to hide it.

it's for the ignorance of our youth, for the hate and racism we were taught, but now fight loudly against.

it's for every queer person who grew up in the hollers violently hating themselves because they thought they had to. everyone else did.

it's for the ones who left that church one day and never walked back into it, and it's especially for the ones who still secretly worry they're going to a hell they don't even believe in for it.

it's for the southerners who have ever been insulted or invalidated just because there are no Gs on the ends of any of your words.

it's for every appalachian who has been failed by the education system and it is especially for the high school dropouts.

this space is for yall. it's not for who they think we are.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Harry is at a Quidditch game, and he’s having a dreadful time. There should be some universal rule that negates this possibility. It’s Quidditch, he’s Harry – it’s the perfect pairing. He should be watching the Wimbourne Wasps crush the Ballycastle Bats and munching on some delightful treacle Sugar Sweeps while enjoying his first date in months.

Except they only have the licorice-flavoured Sugar Sweeps.

Except his team is losing horrendously.

Except his date – Jeanine, or Jeannie; something with a J – is more interested in flirting with anyone other than him. She’d tried to catch the eye of the unfairly attractive man sitting on Harry’s other side for a good twenty minutes. When she made no progress, her attention shifted to orchestrating a threesome with her friend and Draco. Rude.

(And no matter how far they’ve come from the bitter rivalry of their youth, Harry still hates to lose to Mal– Draco. He’d feel worse about that if the other man didn’t feel the exact same way – and if the prat looked less bloody smug.)

This is the last time he lets the blond convince him to go on a blind double-date. Merlin, what was he thinking when he agreed to this?

The Wasps call a timeout to discuss strategy (not that it’s likely to help at this point) and that’s when the worst of it happens. Some genius decided Quidditch needed a kiss cam for the slower moments of a match. If Harry ever finds out who, he’s going to hex their toes off.

That’s the thought that runs through his mind as he sees himself and Jacqueline on each of the floating screens bobbing around the Quidditch stadium.

His eyes slide helplessly to the side, where Jasmine is already inching away from him. This is so bloody embarrassing. He can feel his cheeks redden in mortification and is sure his deer-in-the-headlights expression will be immortalised in tomorrow’s Daily Prophet.

He sure wishes he had a time turner – he’d go back to this morning and stay in bed the whole day.

He can hear laughter breaking out from the other spectators the longer the camera lingers on him. Why haven’t they moved on to another pair? Or at the very least shifted three feet to the right; Harry’s certain Jolene and her friend or Draco (or hell, all three, why not) would be happy to give the viewers a show.

And then he feels a tap on his left shoulder. 

It’s not that he’d forgotten about the extremely hot man sitting to his left. But the reminder of the human perfection to his side while this debacle unfolds kind of makes him want to stand up and leave. Or blow something up.

He turns to Mr. Sex-on-Legs and smiles weakly. The man returns his smile, and while it’s a little sharp, it’s not mocking. Hurray for small mercies.

“May I?” Unreasonably Handsome Stranger asks.

“Uh,” Harry replies eloquently. May he what? Harry swiftly decides he doesn’t need more details. This man could be asking for his kidney and as long as it makes this whole situation less painful, Harry’s on board. “Sure…?”

Unreasonably Handsome Stranger tilts Harry’s face up and swoops in. Harry can’t stop the confused squeak from leaving him – so much for less shameful – and then he’s being kissed within an inch of his life. Holy shite.

This is awesome.

Harry kind of forgets why this man is kissing him and what’s going on around him, because it doesn’t matter. The most gorgeous person he’s ever seen in real life is pressing his lips against Harry’s with intent, with skill – is that his tongue? All higher brain functions have ceased in order to enjoy this moment to the fullest.

When they finally pull back for air, Harry finds his hands are gripping the man’s collar and holding him close. He figures that’s fine, considering the man has one hand wound through Harry’s hair and the other is still cupping his jaw.

“Wow,” Harry breathes, brain still taking a break from thinking. The other man smirks knowingly at him, and Harry would probably take offence to that if the man’s perfectly formed cheekbones weren’t flushed pink, showing he’s not as unaffected as he might pretend to be.

“Er. I’m Harry.”

“Tom.”

“Nice to meet you, Tom.”

This makes Smokin' Hot Tom chuckle, which in turn makes his eyes crinkle up adorably. Oh bother – Harry might be in trouble.

He’s aware, peripherally, that someone behind him is aggressively clearing their throat. He only bothers to care about it when Tom shoots an unimpressed look at the source of the noise.

When Harry turns to follow Tom’s gaze, he comes face to face with an irate Julienne, her glaring friend, and Draco, who can’t seem to decide whether he’s impressed or pissed off.

He shrugs, grinning dopily. “It just isn’t going to work out, Josephine.”

She gives him a baleful look. “My name is Petra.”

Whoops. Not even close. “Sorry – Petra. Have fun with Draco and …your friend.”

He sends a teasing salute to Draco and starts dragging Tom towards the exit. Speaking of having fun – he’s sure they can find an alcove somewhere around here to continue what Tom started.

—

Harry’s picture is indeed in the Prophet the next day. But he supposes that’s only to be expected when he’s caught publicly snogging the visiting ambassador from the French Ministry of Magic.

[cathartidae]

TOP TEN HYMENOPTERA

AS RANKED BY ME, AN UNQUALIFIED TUMBLR USER WHO LIKES WAUCE

this is for you @hawkpartys

NUMBER 10

AMERICAN WINTER ANT- they have funny asses. thats how i tell em apart compared to all the other ant sp in my area. big ass (src)

NUMBER 9

GENUS EUSANDALUM- this is mostly bc of hazes comment on it. quote "ma'am not to like profile you or anything but this is an oak and you are a small wasp. i think i know what you're here for. (src)

NUMBER 8

EURYTOMA- i cant actually give you a proper image of this one i wanna talk abt since the sp split is still in progress. however they just look ridiculous. girl ur ass (src)

NUMBER 7

SUBFAMILY GONATOPODINAE- why do you look like that. (src)

NUMBER 6

TRIBE THYREODONINI- just look at this thang. what a creature. gongeous (src)

NUMBER 5

BLACK GIANT ICHNEUMONID WASP- i nearly excluded this one bc i was like "ohhh theyre too basic". ichneumonid wasps. basic? bro 90% of people have never heard of the cunts man. anyways 10/10 love these guys. (src)

NUMBER 4

TRIBE PEPSINI (TARANTULA HAWK WASPS AND ALLIES)- i realy couldnt not include these theyre just fuckin gorgeous man (src)

NUMBER 3

CHRYSIS CHROSOSTIGMA- literally gongeous. all jewel wasps are my faves tbh theyre just so pretty (src)

NUMBER 2

VELVET ANTS- oh yeah you have a taxa thats mostly known for their wings? NO fuck you. wasp ant. its like an ant but its actualy a wasp. hell yeah. i wanna see one so bad the horticulture prof at my college says she sees em in the garden sometimes (src)

NUMBER 1

CICADA KILLERS (GENUS SPHECIUS)- i just love em. theyre so ridiculous and really really gorgeous. truly truly the creatures of ever.

HONORARY MENTION

gall wasps. bro you are so fucking ridiculous HWY DO TYOU LOOK LIKE THATTTTT my favourite things is to find oaks and look for the silliest galls on em. i founf one called a yellow wig gall. fucked up (src)

[creatingblackcharacters]

You made a post earlier today replying to an ask, saying about how a lot of people don't see shades of brown as interesting/with depth, which obviously is sad because there's so many gorgeous shades of brown and epic things that are brown.

Anyways I've started compiling some lists of stuff that's brown and what some uses might be as far as writing descriptions; would you like to be tagged if I make a post, since I was inspired to dig deeper and got excited about my list because of your comment? Want to make sure you get credit if you want but aren't annoyed by it if you don't ♡

Also I know food words are kinda a "no" for describing skin tone for most people, are there any other things you think are best to steer clear/be more careful of? There's lots of really beautiful beetles for example that have lovely shimmery deep brown wings but idk if it'd be rude to describe a human character in a way similar to a bug. I'm an entomologist so obviously I see it as a compliment to have colors like a paper wasp or a beetle, but I want to make sure I'm not blinded by my own adoration of bugs 🪳

That would be lovely! Like I said, it's not the lack of words, it's just the mentality that they don't find brown beautiful. So don't be hurt initially when it seems like some people aren't grateful or are being dicks about it. I assure you, I will be 👍🏾

I hate that food is a no, fr. I find food colors beautiful! I think cinnamon, nutmeg, and peanut butter are lovely colors! It really is just how they get used. I personally think you should include them, but add a note that some people do not take well, and so mind how you're using the words. Show some variety, don't offer your white characters every type of white and then every Black person is a piece of food.

I think if you're going to compare to bugs, you gotta use that creativity you just used to talk about the beetle. 😅 But admittedly I would not be happy being told my eyes were brown like a paper wasp, no. I'd need that entomologist background. It'd be unique though! I'd love to read a story where that happened, just to see. But there are plenty of beautiful bugs too! All the butterflies!

Thank you for thinking of this, and for reaching out to me for credit- that was really nice of you.

[stinglesswasp]

Hi! First of all, I think your art is gorgeous and honestly whatever words I put here, they will never be able to do your art justice. I love your visual storytelling! Now for the actual ask part. How could one start learning how to draw? I have a STEM background and I have wrestled many times before with the idea of trying to pick up drawing and every time I see content creators, such as you, posting their works, it makes me even more motivated to get some scenarios out of my head and place them on paper. Right now I do it in writing but I would love to do something graphic about it too. Problem is, it can feel overwhelming to start as there are so many resources and stuff and it can feel like a daunting task. So, how did you start drawing?

Thank you so much and I hope you will always keep your passion for this craft alive and well. Be it CoD or anything else.

Hi, thank you for your kind words! I've been drawing since I was a wee baby wasp, but anyone can start at anytime. You're absolutely right that it can feel overwhelming, but I love that you're motivated! That's honestly half the battle. I can give some general advice:

Start small, like really small… I know it's tempting to immediately jump into drawing your favourite blorbos smooching (yes, this is the entire point of being an artist) but it's like exercise, you need to build muscle bit by bit before you can attempt any ambitious goals. Draw very basic shapes like circles, squares, triangles, followed by spheres, cylinders, prisms. Try to rotate/stretch/skew/slice them in your mind's eye and draw the result. Draw some simple objects around you. You'll find that all objects, including complex organic forms, can be broken down into basic shapes. Here's an example of the types of exercises you can try: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6F5q_5HC3o

There are beginner's tutorials on every aspect of drawing, I'd recommend spending a chunk of time in each area, learning fundamentals like perspective, proportions, and lighting. There are easy rules that you can follow that will make your art look 'correct' and not 'wonky' which might happen if you try to wing it without really understanding what you're doing. This video (though more advanced) has tons of useful advice and a fantastic guideline to follow: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6T_-DiAzYBc (in fact I think this is one of the best art 'tutorials' ever 🤯)

Be patient with yourself!! Your brain literally needs time to grow new neurons because you're learning a new skill. It can be frustrating to be unable to draw what you're imagining, but go easy and build up a strong foundation first. The more solid this is, the more satisfied you'll be when you finally tackle the stuff you actually want to make.

I hope this was helpful! Just practice a lot, have fun, and be proud of your progress 🧡 (also, sit with good posture, stay hydrated and take regular breaks <3)

[tiredfox64]

Hi! I hope you are having a good day/evening! 🤩

If it's okay with you, I'd like to see a Shang Tsung (MK11 or Titan! Shang) x afab!powerful! reader fic. I was thinking of a character who is kind to friends, so much so that she seems harmless, but lethal to enemies 💚🐍

I ask you to imagine their first meeting and how things might evolve from there, trying to avoid the non-con as much as possible (I don't feel comfortable with it 😢)

Give vent to your imagination! 😍

Beauty Like A Butterfly, Pain Like a Wasp

Yip notes: Ugh we love gorgeous gorgeous men with a very petty attitude.

Pairing: Shang Tsung (MK11) x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: None...WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?

Could a creature ever be friendly but also deadly? Shang Tsung believed something like that was impossible. Perhaps a dog fits the criteria but never a person. He truly means friendly and kind. Not humble and peaceful like Liu Kang would portray. Someone who will make people smile with no ill will. Someone who draws people in with their aura and demeanor. But alas, he has never once found a person like that.

That was until Shang Tsung set his eyes on you.

You were as graceful and bloodthirsty as a butterfly. As kind and cuddly as a bumble bee with a wasp’s wrath. He has only seen such beauty in Sonya Blade, but never the same warm aura that you radiated. He believed your friendliness was a façade or a trick just like he would portray. But that mask never slipped off during the time you and him spent together.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Shang Tsung’s first encounter with you was unforgettable because of how unexpected it was.

He journeyed through realms trying to find souls that might be a great addition to his collections. He hoped to find someone worthy to either trick into being his pawn or feasting upon their souls But all he could find were regular beings who had nothing extraordinary about them. Sure, some people looked like they had amazing strength but it was nothing compared to Goro or Kintaro. There was definitely nobody around who seemed to wield any magic. No one stood out just yet. He needed to wait. His patience would be rewarded.

You stood not too far away. You were among your friends, laughing and making them smile whenever you gained the chance. To them, you were the equivalent of an angel. You were the sweetest thing the gods could have given the world with your friendly demeanor and ability to make anyone your friend. The emo girl who usually sits alone is as much your friend as the guy who keeps going to jail for things he “supposedly” did. That’s the kind of person you are.

However, not everything about you is on the surface. Secrets lie even in honest and sincere people. They may not seem like secrets to you but to others, they believe they are since it’s a shock to them. This secret of yours will be revealed to Shang Tsung. Would you like some Netherrealm demons to help bring it out? They will show up in about 5…4…3…

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!”

…now.

You swiftly turned around and heard the ground crumble as many hands started clawing their way out. Soon, horns of many shapes and sizes emerged from this burning hole. There should be no reason for demons to emerge in the streets. But creatures from Netherrealm don’t play nice. If they want to invade a realm so badly they would. And right now they want to bring hell upon your home.

Fuck that noise.

You pushed your friends in a certain direction and told them to run without looking back. You watched as people ran around with these demons roaring and growling like the ferocious beasts they were. A switch flipped inside of you and that bright, cheerful attitude turned into one of aggression and hostility. Shang Tsung was not too far from the spectacle he was about to witness.

You bent down to grab a rock, no bigger than the palm of your hand. You observed it to make sure it would be stable enough for what you were about to do next. You reeled back like a baseball player while keeping your eye on the demon with the biggest horns.

The sound of meat being squished was heard as the demon fell to the ground, a hole blown through its head. The bits of rock went flying before landing in the puddle of blood that came seeping out.

This was…unexpected to say the least. Shang Tsung was not ready for that. He wondered if he blinked at the wrong time and missed what you did. Taking in context clues, he was able to determine what happened. You chucked that rock at Mach speeds and killed the demon on impact. The demon was dead in a matter of a millisecond. When he looked back up he saw you gesture to the rest of the pack to come at you. You were ready to eliminate the rest of them.

Shang Tsung kept a close eye on your display of ferociousness. These demons, who were much larger and were more muscular than you, were falling like flies. Hearts being ripped from chests, horns being used as weapons, skulls being smashed in, oh the blood bath was endless. Shang Tsung didn’t realize he was smiling at the performance in front of him. Even as you grew tired from the amount of demons you were dealing with he was delighted by the effort you were putting in. You were a rodeo bull who did not back down, you wanted to knock that rider off.

He felt like being nice that day so he decided to use his sorcery to help you out. You watched some of the demons burst into flames or being kicked down into pits of fire. You had no clue what was happening until Shang Tsung came into view. He moved fluently as he dodged everything the demons threw at him. Soon the pack of demons were nothing but corpses on the ground. Shang Tsung finished the job by opening a portal and sending the remains back to the Netherrealm. You stared in astonishment. You had no clue what just happened. All you knew was that this man near you was not normal.

“Uh thanks, stranger. I’m not sure what you did but it sure helped finish the job.” You tried your best to not sound confused since you thought it would be rude.

“That, my dear, was sorcery. It is clear to me that you do not need sorcery since you seem like a competent fighter. I watched you from the beginning and I must say, your performance was deliciously cold-blooded.” He spoke to you with a hypnotic voice that was luring you in ever so carefully as he circled you.

“Uhm, thanks?” You weren’t sure if you wanted to take that as a compliment.

He let out an amused chuckle at your confusion and possible innocence. He already sensed you were not someone faking their goodness like Sindel would do. You were clueless and that can be seen as cute at times. He stopped circling you like a vulture ready for prey to die and walked up to you.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Shang Tsung,” He took your hand and kissed the back of it. “May I ask who you may be?”

Both of you were hooked on each other for one reason or another. You gladly told Shang Tsung who you were. You saw this as a possibly interesting friendship if Shang Tsung would allow it. Will he actually be your friend or will he use you as a stepping stool to his supposed destiny?

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

What have you done to this man? How can he be weakened like this?

Originally, Shang Tsung thought he would use you as another obedient subject that he could use as leverage to get his way. If he could trick Shao Kahn and Sindel, he could easily trick you as well. You would never view him as just a dog that had to listen to his master.

But that was the problem. You didn’t view him as anything negative.

Perhaps it was because he never involved you in his schemes to get Kronika’s crown or spoke about his distaste for certain people. Whatever it was that made you see him in a good light, he couldn’t believe it. All those who “trusted” him knew of his deceptive nature or they fully believed he would aid them all the way in their malicious plans. They were fools and risk-takers. He believed you were one of them until he started realizing the differences you portrayed.

You never asked for assistance on anything even if his sorcery could help. You trusted him fully without much thought of possible deception. If you weren’t acting like the others why are you still here?

Because he was your friend in your eyes. You gave him attention. You showed interest in his sorcery. Even when you two would spar you never got sore about losing. He was sore though after enduring millions of punches from you. He should never forget how powerful you are.

One of the moments that Shang Tsung thought about a lot was the first time he brought you to his island. He showed you his many treasures and special artifacts that he stored on the island. Many items caught your eye such as gold, jewels, and shiny stones. Something told him to test you and see how much you would take. You could take what you wanted, within reason of course. However, your words caught him off guard.

“Isn’t this yours? Why would I take it?”

You stumped him. He was silent as he looked at you with his eyebrows raised. He let out a little ‘hm’ before walking off. You caught up to him, wondering if you made the wrong decision. You actually made a decision he never knew was an option. He knew at that moment that you were just a friendly person. During the rest of the time on the island, you never took a piece of jewelry or a gold coin and pocketed it. You entered the island and left the island with the same items in your pockets.

You had cast an imaginary spell on Shang Tsung. A spell he could never do but you did it without effort. His image of you changed. You were no fool or a pawn. You weren’t a useless subject that he couldn’t use. You were just a woman who gave people chances. That must be why Shang Tsung began to fancy you.

He would invite you to his island multiple times, growing upset occasionally when you had to decline for something reasonable. He would even allow your friends to join you just so he could have a chance to be close to you. Of course, some areas were off-limits. Nobody should find out about the flesh pits.

This would result in your friends teasing you to no end. They would ask you why you haven't made him your rich boyfriend already. He has a freaking island and treasures. But you always told them you were fine with being friends with him, much to his dismay. You’re not blind though, you’ve seen how Shang Tsung’s attitude towards you has been changing. From his choice of words down to his tone, he has become more flirtatious and alluring. He wanted to give you many gifts and spend more time with you. It didn’t even matter if you were sweeping his feet with a kick or listening to him talk about a new trick he could pull off with his sorcery, he wanted you close.

This is ridiculous. He is acting like a coward. It’s time to be bold and officially make you his.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Another visit to his island, what will you two do?

Shang Tsung surprised you with a dress the moment you walked into his throne room. The dress was gorgeous. It matched your preferred style and was in your favorite color. This was your dream dress that you never knew you needed.

“I had this dress made just for you. It was sewn by the finest designers in Outworld. I think you should try it on.” He laid the dress across your arms.

The material was soft velvet with the inside being smooth silk. The textures were comfortable for you. You smiled widely before running out of the room to try on the dress. After about five minutes he heard the door open. You walked in slowly as you looked down at how the dress hugged your body. You looked up at Shang Tsung with that same wide smile being present on your face.

“I think it looks perfect on me. What do you think?” You asked.

He walked closer to you, his eyes taking in your natural beauty. His heart beat harder against his chest in a way he had never felt before. It was a mixture of attraction, excitement, and possibly…love. He can’t say for certain since love is foreign to him. He is only going off of the fact that you are the only one who has made him feel this way.

“Such beauty…” He whispered, “It is so rare, yet I was lucky enough to find it.”

He took your hand into his. The cold metal of his clawed glove grazed over your delicate skin before he brought your hand up to his lips. He kissed the back of your hand just like the first time you two met except this was different. This was not a formal introduction but a display of his interest in you. Even when the kiss was done he didn’t let go of your hand. You didn’t mind at all. It made you feel warm in your cheeks and tingly in your heart.

Your eyes stared into his. You never realize the light that began to show in his dark eyes. Even in the moonlight, they seemed to shimmer at the sight of you. If you knew who he was before you met him you would realize there was no cocky tone in his smile. There was no hint of judgment or aggression with the way his eyebrows were positioned. He does not look down on you. You are as equal as him.

You will be as powerful as him once he creates his New Era. Everyone else will be his subjects that he will use to conquer the realms. But not you. Never you. He would not dare change a thing about you. You are perfect the way you are. You will be his perfect wife who will rule all the realms by his side. Whatever you want will be yours.

Still gotta make her your girlfriend, genius.

“We should put that dress to good use. What do you say?” He suggested.

“Wait, was this your way of asking me out on a date?” You asked in a playful tone.

“Perhaps it was. That is up to you, my dear.”

“You are a tricky man, Shang Tsung. But you are also very charming. I think a date would be a wonderful idea.”

Alright, now the cocky and smug smirk has come back. You know how to get him started. He loves some good praise.

“Excellent choice. I will make sure you will never regret this.”

Yap notes: I'm going to eat his flesh. Adiós!

[netherfeildren]

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .2

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Art is Body, the Texture, Seung Ah Paik, (2008-2009)

Word Count: 4.8K

Read on AO3

.2

I mean maybe I was holding all of the aces, but what was the game?

Joan Didion, Play It As It Lays

Gerri’s sister, Andrea, makes a wonderful dinner that night, linguine with mussels in a white wine sauce, a tossed salad, and several bottles of a lovely and crisp Pinot Grigio. By all accounts, it should have been a perfect evening. Friends and family in a beautiful setting. The day had been warm and lazy and seemingly perfect on the surface, but the underlying vein of tension was inescapable and un-ignorable. A huge drama had unfolded when you’d come back inside the house from the dock earlier. Eva was up in arms that Joel hadn’t brought you in immediately after the sting, said that he had no business tending to you when you were hurt and there was a doctor present. She’d even gone as far as to suggest that perhaps, if you felt too unwell, you should head back to the city, for a fucking wasp sting. Gerri had stepped in at that, said that it had been her sister who’d rented the house, and thus, was the only one who had the right to suggest when anyone should or should not leave. A screaming match had ensued. No one had really stopped to listen when you’d said that you really were fine. 

The seven of you now sit quiet and awkward at the dinner table out on the deck facing the dark and serene lake. A gorgeous setting with a terribly dark cloud hanging over all of your heads. The conversation is stilted and forced and there is a palpably bitter ball of tension being tossed back and forth between Joel and Eva. Sharply spit whispers and murmurs under their breaths as they sit across from you. She keeps rolling her eyes and clicking her tongue at him every time he tries to join the conversation Gerri’s been fighting tooth and nail to keep going. 

Ger’s best friend, who was supposed to have joined the weekend so that you’d not be the seventh wheel, had canceled last minute, and so you now sit at the the far end of the table across from the happy couple, trying your best to drown your awkwardness and the memory of Joel’s mouth on your skin in as much wine as you can guzzle as quickly as you possibly can. Light-weight or not, these are dire circumstances, it calls for desperate measures. 

The tension between Gerri and Eva wasn’t much better, and by extension between her sister. The three of them reminded you of the angry wasp from earlier, waiting to see who’d strike first. Everything about this was filling you with a type of anxious fizz that has the nape of your neck breaking out into a cold sweat and the backs of your knees itching. You want to run to your room, get all your shit, and run away from this place and these people as quickly as you can.

And then fucking Joel. Part of you wants to kick him on the shin under the table as hard as you can. What was his problem, helping you like that, touching you like that, calling you sweetheart, putting his goddamn mouth on you? Fanning the flames of this terrible, horrible, life ruining crush you’re developing on him? Perhaps this is the wine talking, but it feels like he’s slowly consuming your mind like wildfire. The feel of his hot, wet mouth, the slide of his tongue over the sensitive center of your palm, it’s all you can think about. You can’t stop picturing what it might feel like between your legs, over the tips of your breasts. He’d said he’d be gentle, but you have the uncontainable thought that that’s the last thing you want him to be with you.

You really hate yourself. This has to be classified as some flavor of masochism or something, you sitting across from him and his wife as they have a covert fight, all while you’re imagining what it’d be like for him to lick your pussy. 

Yes, definitely a masochist. 

He hasn’t uttered a single word in the past half hour or so, but you’ve been watching him out of the corner of your eye. You’re trying to be discreet, but you’re pretty sure you’re failing, and you can feel the bright, hot flush of the wine broadcasting itself on the surface of your cheeks like a blaring sign. He looks so good. His hair is wet from the shower, slicked back, and he has a slightly red flush from the sun today across his cheeks and the bridge of his strong nose. And he’s so broad, the sleeves of his button down straining with the thickness of his biceps. Your mouth feels parched, like there’s fire crawling up your throat, writhing within the confines of your arteries, licking up the notches of your vertebrae. 

You should go home. You should get away from these people. This was a mistake. And yet you do not. You remain, for some inexplicable reason. Masochist, masochist, masochist. A girl who likes things that aren’t good for her, that will only hurt her. 

You can’t help but think there’s something strange in the way that the two of them circle each other, in the way they exist around each other. Like two opposing magnets – connected by something, some sort of sameness, but constantly repelling each other, at the same time. You can’t say, quite precisely, what it is, perhaps, the undercurrent of hostility they move around each other with, as if at any moment someone’ll swipe out with sharpened claws, go for the jugular, but also, almost slowly, lagging, as if they are very tired of fighting such an interminable fight. You recognize something in them, and it isn’t until this moment, with you sitting across from them on the universally familiar battleground that is a family dinner table, that you’re able to realize what it is – a marriage filled with nothing but unhappiness and resentment. 

They remind you, very much, of your own parents. 

With age, you now thought that whenever people spoke of love, they were rarely ever speaking of real love. Most of the time it was a shroud for power or fixation or loss. Life has taught you this, your parents have taught you this. In many ways, you are now teaching yourself this. After all, all of these things most usually serve as the true center of what a romantic relationship posed as. Maybe. Or maybe you’re wrong. Too jaded – too gnarled. But when you look at these two people sitting before you, when all you can see in them is the bitter, ghostly reflection of your own parents, all it does is reinforce that idea. 

Joel’s eyes are a little blank, as if his mind is very far away from here, as Eva goes on about her new project at work, but you watch that little, fluttering muscle in his jaw from earlier make its frustrated return. If he grinds his teeth any harder you’re worried he’ll crack them. Gerri and Tommy have been having some sort of silent conversation for the past few minutes, she kind of looks like she’s beating him up with her eyes, screaming at him to do something to make this dinner even the slightest bit more bearable. His jokes are terrible and keep falling flat which you find quite funny, even though no one else seems to. Andrea’s girlfriend got up to go to get another bottle of wine like twenty minutes ago and never came back. 

Joel has his left hand resting on the table beside his plate, the other hidden below the edge. His fingers are long and thick, the nails trimmed neatly. He keeps stretching his hand open, and rotating his wrist to the side, back and forth, as if he’s stretching the muscles in his forearm out. His ring finger and thumb come together intermittently to meet and he rubs them together slowly, slowly. You sit across from him, chin cupped in your palm and watch the slow caress of those two fingers, eyes slightly glazed. Your legs beneath the table are crossed at the knee, thighs pressed together as tightly as you can. 

Eva’s been going on for the past half hour about someone on her team who, she claims, is the best insurance agent she’s ever met in her entire career. Impressive. You think you must scoff or make some sort of unconscious sound, lost in your daze staring at his hand, because she turns to you suddenly, abandoning her tirade to bestow her critical eye on you. Your knee jerks beneath the table, bumping against the underside and rattling the dinnerware on the surface. You feel the wine flush deepen at her inspection. You hadn’t really contributed much to the conversation throughout the evening, feeling too out of place and anxious to think of something interesting to say, too distracted by the sight of him.

“You know,” she starts – her voice has a deceptively guileless lilt to it that you think people must find incredibly charming when the look in her eyes isn’t calling for blood. “You’re a little quiet. Don’t have much to contribute, do you?” she purrs. 

You clear your throat once, twice, you hear Joel spit her name under his breath, and Gerri says something from the end of the table, but a white, rushing noise is filling your ears suddenly. She sounds very familiar. You clear your throat again, “I was just really enjoying hearing all about what it’s like to sell insurance,” you tell her. “I didn’t want to interrupt.” You hear Gerri snort loudly from the other end of the table. Sometimes you could have a backbone, if you tried very, very hard. 

She hums, arches a thin eyebrow at you. “Gerri says you’re single. That you’ve been unattached for quite some time.” You hear Gerri try to interject again, but Eva cuts her off, continues her set down. “Maybe that’s why you still haven’t found someone yet. No man wants a mouse, you know.” She clicks her tongue and it makes you flinch. You can’t look away from her, it’s like you’re sitting across from a ghost. Even the cadence of her voice reminds you of your mother. When you grow up with an angry parent in your house, there will always be an angry parent in your house, and you are acutely reminded of that in this moment.“Some people might think you’re boring if you’re not careful. Don’t you agree, Joel?” She turns to him, wide grin stretched across her face, and you feel your eyes burn, backbone obliterated, back at your parent’s dinner table. 

“No, I don’t agree,” he says coldly. “That’s enough, Eva.” She ignores him. 

She cocks her head at you, “Could be somethin’ to work on,” she says sweetly. 

“Joel, think it’s time for you two to say good night, don’t you?” Tommy says from the end of the table. 

You try to say that it’s alright, but you think you might’ve accidentally swallowed your tongue in your plight to find your voice. Joel stands suddenly, his chair jostling violently with the abruptness of his movements and clasps her around the elbow, pulling her up with him. “Yeah, we’ll say good night now, everyone.” She goes along with him, laughing loudly. 

“Goodnight,” she sing-songs, as he drags her down the hallway. 

That little girl you’d used to be, the one who always needed to make herself lovable, amenable, good, surges up sharp and vicious inside of you at her words, at the uncomfortable look of embarrassment in Joel’s eyes. He couldn’t even look at you, his eyes trained uncomfortably on his plate. All the care and generosity in his gaze from the afternoon cast away in the face of his wife cutting you down and your inability to defend yourself, your pathetic meekness. 

You turn to look out at the dark water, close your eyes and take deep breaths to ease the tightness in your throat. Gerri says your name softly. You swallow once, twice, clear your throat, swallowing the humiliation. You force a smile onto your face and turn back to her, roll your eyes, “It’s okay.” You try to huff a laugh. 

“It wasn’t – I’m sorry about that,” Tommy says. He looks just as embarrassed as Joel. You want to leave so, so badly. Perhaps this need to always run is just another inheritance from your mother. Just one more terrible burden, in a long line of disappointing inherited traits, that she’s left you with. 

“Tommy, really—”

“No,” he says sharply, letting his fork clatter onto his plate. Gerri says his name softly, you see her put her hand over his clenched fist on the table. “They’re unhappy. She’s unhappy — so she tries to cast the net of her misery around the rest of us – trap us in it with her. Make us all as uncomfortable and as miserable as she is.”

“I know — I can see that. That’s why I’m saying, it’s okay. I understand.”

But you don’t think he hears you, he goes on, “And she’s got my brother trapped there with her.” He looks at Gerri now and you can see all the worry and anguish he carries for Joel in his gaze, a little helpless. “I don’t – I don’t really know how to help him anymore.”

“Baby, it isn’t on you,” Gerri tells him gently. “All you can do is be there for him.”

Tommy turns back to look at you, and for a moment, the helplessness seems to have turned to contemplation, for some reason, as he tells you, “I just want him to be happy.”

-

Joel lays in bed hours later, arm propped under his head, unable to sleep. Eva’s in the room next door with Sarah. They’d slept in separate rooms since the start of their marriage. Neither of them had ever considered the alternative, and he’s especially grateful for that right now. He has the window cracked open, and the cool breeze is soothing on his overly hot skin. His cock is hard and throbbing under his boxers, and he wants nothing more than to call your face to his mind and fuck his palm right now, but he knows he shouldn’t. That if he does it once, he’ll never be able to stop again, will use your face to fuel his fantasies forever afterwards. He can’t stoop that low. He’s not that desperate. Not yet, at least.

And he’s angry right now too. So fucking frustrated at his wife and her attitude and the things she’d said to you at dinner. And most of all, frustrated at himself. Frustrated at the fact that he hadn’t said something more to defend you, that he hadn’t prevented that terrible look of shock and hurt from crossing your face. He should’ve stepped in sooner, said something more, stood up for you. He could tell that it was difficult for you. But he’d been a little taken aback at Eva’s words, at the venom in her tone. He knows she doesn’t have any sort of real problem with you, specifically. He can see through the shroud of bitterness to the heart of the issue at hand which is nothing more than what it always is, that she’s reaching the end of her line – been too stagnant for too long, stuck around with him and Sarah for too long. She’s unhappy and she wants to leave and she’s lashing out because of it. 

He knows she just needs time to come to that on her own, to gather the resolve to abandon her daughter and finally leave the way she wants to. He also knows that this will be the last time. That after this, after she leaves this time, she’ll be done with them for good, but also, that he can’t let her continue this. He needs to set a boundary for himself, but more importantly, for Sarah. She cannot watch her mother come in and out of her life, whenever she pleases, forever. There needs to be some sort of structure to their life, to their relationship, it’s his responsibility to make sure she has that. 

So, for now, until Eva comes to this decision on her own, he’ll put up with her venom and her attitude and her lashing out at him, but at him, not at you or anyone else. You don’t deserve for the misery of his life to spill over onto you. You don’t deserve that, you’re too good for that. Too good for him. 

He’s also really fucking frustrated that his cock is hard right now. That he’s such an idiot that the confirmation that you’re single had filled him with an inappropriate amount of relief and satisfaction, that if he isn’t careful and conscious of his thoughts and his body and his proximity to you at all times, he’s almost always verging on being halfway to hard in your presence. Like some horny, desperate, perverted old man. But he can’t help himself. You’re just too pretty. And now that he knows how soft you are, that he’s held your small hand in his, that he’s gotten close enough to be able to smell that subtly sweet scent that envelops you at all times, well, he’s practically a lost cause. Putting his mouth on you today, tasting the salt of your skin, fucking Christ, he shouldn’t have done that. He can never do it again, should never get that close again. It would be, he thinks, extremely easy to lose control of himself with you.

But he also thinks, despite this very aware notion he has that he should keep his distance, that he wants to find any excuse, any at all, to be close, to get closer to you. Maybe he should go apologize. Maybe he should go and say something about tonight, tell you how sorry he is for his wife’s words, for his lack of thought to speak up for you in the moment, to ask you how your hand is, if you’re in pain, if you need anything. Yes, he thinks, he most definitely should do that. It would be the right thing, the polite thing. It’s almost necessary, he finds. 

-

This was a mistake. He knows he shouldn’t be here, he knows this is a bad idea. Dangerous in a way crafted specifically by himself to hone in on his own weaknesses, strike where he’s most vulnerable. Fucking self sabotage and self flaggelation, all at the same time. He lifts his fist to knock quietly anyways. Fuck what he should do, what about what he wants?

You take a long moment to answer, he can hear your shuffling and movement through the door. You were probably in bed, maybe you were asleep already, maybe he’ll get to see that soft, intimate look of sleep in your eyes. Maybe he’ll be so lucky. 

-

“Joel – is everything okay?” Your voice is cracked and gravelly, and you try to inconspicuously wipe away the stickiness of your slick on your hand on the back of your sleep shorts, wind the long sleeves of your soft sweater over your fingers to hide the evidence of the fact that you’d just had three of your fingers stuffed to the knuckle inside your wet cunt, trying to make yourself come at the thought of him. What the hell is he doing here right now?

You plan to never see him again after this weekend, you’ve decided. You’ll tell Gerri you can’t be friends anymore, if need be, as much as it’ll devastate you. This is too risky, you feel at risk in his presence. There is something, some terrible sense of dread you’re filled with, a fight or flight instinct, the sense of prey right before it’s taken out by a larger, stronger predator, but some sort of instinct is telling you something very bad will happen to you if you stay anywhere near this man. That he’ll make you feel things you’ve never before felt in your entire life. 

“How’s the hand?” 

You almost choke. “Wh– what?”

“The sting?”

“Oh–” you’re trying to control your breathing, the stuttering of your heart from the interrupted orgasm, paired with his presence here right now has you close to hyperventilating, “Oh, it’s fine – thank you.” Your cunt is tight and throbbing painfully.

“Doesn’t hurt anymore?”

“No,” you lie.

He shakes his head a little, gives you the gentle curve of his crooked smile, “Don’t gotta lie, sweetheart.” Your heart drops at how easily he sees through you, has your throat tightening into a knot. The reprimand at the pet name catches in your throat. After the humiliation at dinner, the tears you’d shed in the shower, the feeling of being too emotional, overly sensitive, of not being able to just brush off someone’s offhandedly cruel words, your inability, even after all these years, to develop thicker skin – it’s hard to cast away the slight comfort. Even if you know it’s wrong. 

“Your wife?” You need to remind the both of you about her, in this moment. It feels very precarious, set on the edge of a cliff, for some reason. Perhaps because of how soft his old t-shirt looks, his low, gravely voice and messy curls, the late hour – the fact that all you’re wearing is an oversized sweater and sleep shorts and that your cunt is wet and swollen. 

“Asleep with Sarah.”

“Oh, she’s–” you cut yourself off abruptly, none of your business. 

“We don’t uh –” he stutters, a blush creeping into his cheeks, “We don’t st– stay together.” He blinks rapidly, looking down at his feet. The fringe of his lashes is long and thick. 

“Oh… okay–” you can’t think what it is you’re supposed to say to that, but you’re filled with a terrible sense of premonitory dread. He’s trying to establish something now, between the two of you, you think, explain something to you about the dynamic unfolding here and the one between himself and his wife. 

“I wanted to apologize – again.” He looks back up at you now. “I’m sorry for dinner. We were incredibly rude to you.”

“You weren’t rude. You didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly. I should have said something more. I’m sorry for that.”

“That’s not what I meant. You– you don’t need to defend me from your wife. That – that isn’t–” That isn’t right, you want to say, but the words fail you.

“Maybe so – but I should’a done it anyway. She was out of line, and I’m apologizing for it now.”

“Okay–” He looks away then, peers down the dark, quiet hall. Fuck, he mutters under his breath. This feels wrong. You wonder if your mother ever felt this anxious heaviness inside of her right before she did something she knew she wasn’t supposed to. 

“We– we don’t have a conventional marriage,” he says then, spills the words in a rushed tumble. His embarrassed blush flares brighter, and you squeeze your eyes shut, hold on to the door’s edge for support, like he knows, perhaps, that he shouldn’t be going here with you but feels the need to tell you this anyways. 

You blink rapidly, the dread in your gut churns violently. You shouldn’t be hearing this right now. The two of you shouldn’t be standing here at the door of your bedroom in your pajamas having this late night, hushed conversation. You tighten your grip on the door. 

“I – I don’t follow.”

“It’s, well – I don’t –” a frustrated huff, “We’re not really… together.”

You scrunch your nose at him, “It’s – it’s open?”

He frowns, shakes his head confusedly, “What?”

“You have an open marriage – an agreement to see other people?”

He passes a palm over his mouth. “Oh – I – I guess, yes. That’s – well, she does. But it wasn’t an agreement or anything.”

This is what Gerri had alluded to, you realize. “She cheats on you?” Too harsh, but you need to be clear now, on what it is he’s trying to make you understand. Although you’re not sure why, why you feel you need this clarity. You’re treading extremely dangerous water here, surrounded by the violent sharks of your history. 

“Well, I wouldn’t call it that either. I don’t–” he laughs bitterly, “I don’t feel cheated. That’s not what it is. We don’t have a close marriage or… I guess a real one, I don’t– I don’t know what to call it – an intimate one, I suppose. We aren’t really together, in a true sense.”

“Why– why not?” Looking at him, you can’t imagine how anyone could ever not want to be close to a man like this. 

He leans against the door frame, crosses his arms across his chest so his biceps bulge, and it brings him in slightly closer to you. Your mouth feels so dry, parched. “Different reasons, incompatibility. We never – we were never in love or anything. We got married for Sarah. It was complicated, I guess.” He frowns, “And then we just did it, and now this is how we are.” He shrugs. 

“Okay…” you say slowly. You lean against the door now too, rest your head against the smooth grain, prop one foot on top of the other. If you shift your knee forward just a few inches you’d bump his leg. You want to ask him why he’s telling you this, to put him on the spot in a sense, but you know why. You know why he’s saying these things to you. There is, against all odds, against all rationality, logic, morals, fear, there is something here, between the two of you. You’re afraid, you carry your baggage on your shoulders like the weight of a mountain, like the weight of a lifetime of fear and abandonment and painful longing, but you aren’t stupid or blind. You know there’s something unspoken blooming here between the two of you, intentional or not.

“Okay,” he says back to you, equally slowly. His eyes shift between yours, the look in them, so soft and warm. Kind eyes, he has kind eyes. Honest eyes, despite what’s happening here now. Despite the fact that even though you know it should feel dishonest, it doesn’t, not really. “Just wanted to tell you that.”

“I understand,” you tell him, because you do. You do understand. 

“And to apologize.”

“You already did that.”

The gentle curve of his smile, “Again, then.”

You can’t help but smile back, “Apology accepted.”

“And to check on that hand.”

You hold up your open palm for his inspection. “I think I’ll live.” And then he brings his own hand up, without your expecting it, and catches the thin of your wrist on either side by two thick fingers, gently brushes his thumb against the prominence of the bone at your joint. He nods his head tightly, jaw clenched once again, and then lets you go. 

“You have to,” and you think he means it in jest, but he says it so seriously, the look in his eyes so direct, but also…sad, slightly sad or desperate or something you can’t fully identify, that causes the joke to fall flat, has the muscles in your throat tightening painfully. 

“I’ll try.” You can’t tell what it is you’re promising to try to do. To live? To stay away from him? To let him come closer? Does it even matter? Is the act of trying wholly futile already? In some insane way, it feels like it is. As if what’s going to happen is already set in stone and nothing either of you do or don’t do will be able to change the course. 

The thought terrifies you.

He’s quiet for another beat, the two of you just looking at each other. You wish you could press your front to his, feel his breath push into your belly with each one of his inhales, fit your nose to the space behind in his ear, where the scent of him is strongest, and breathe him in, memorize him. You think you’d like to know everything about him. What his favorite meal is, what books he likes to read, what his parents are like, what music he listens to, what his favorite thing to do with Sarah is. 

None of that information is yours to have though, so all you’ll take from him now is his unnecessary apology.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

He nods once, pauses, twice, swallows. He doesn’t want to go. He’s telling you this with his silence and his lingering, but then he lets his eyes flutter shut and nods once more, slowly this time, and you watch another swallow pass through the strong column of his throat. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” You don’t correct him this time either.

Chapter .3

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[mothpawbs]

more royal dragons, this time the ones from arc 2/3! these were really fun, and the previous designs helped me get comfortable with more detailed jewelry designs, so these are a bit more extravagant.

design notes under the cut!

RUBY: i didn't realize how young she really is when i read escaping peril the first time, i thought she was in her mid-twenties at least but apparently she's only 12/17? wild. anyways i made her ruby red with some orange accents to point to tourmaline. her tiara is meant to look like laurels, studded with rubies, and the gems on her brows and wings are citrine.

GLORY: i already had a design for her, i just touched it up a bit here. she's very pretty, but her scales are notably duller than my other rainwing designs. she has pouches she wears around her neck because she likes to be prepared and is trying to connect more to her culture. at least one of those pockets has snacks for silver. the flower on her ear is a plumeria india, one of my favorite flowers.

THORN: easily my favorite design in the set, oh my god i love how she came out. she has the same colors as my sunny design but desaturated, and almost the same markings. her jewelry is mostly gold with onyx and lapis lazuli insets. the design for the eye of onyx is inspired by @dragonsndoodles's design, which looks absolutely gorgeous and way more elegant than the graphic novel version.

SNOWFALL: i think i made her too round and soft-looking? idk i think she's cute though. i definitely had to get those pale sunset colors in there, and she has similar colors/markings to glacier. the tiara is one she found in the treasury after the racism crown™ was destroyed, and the shawl was a gift from luna as a thanks for helping her tribe. silk doesn't help much against the cold, but it sure is pretty.

WASP: SCARY BITCH. i had to mess with her colors a lot, i wanted to make her kinda greenish with red accents but it just was NOT working. i do like where i ended up though. i don't know that she would wear much jewelry, probably more armor than anything else, but i wanted to do hivewing jewelry so here we are. the neck piece was really fun to design. these are steel and gold with amber and peridot accents, and the cape is silk with gold embroidery. i have this headcanon of her having breath of evil growing out of her like a cordyceps fungus, and she uses the cape to cover the tendrils on her back.

SEQUOIA: ooo she was a challenge, i'm not great at designs with a lot of green or a lot of dark colors so she was fun. her colors are inspired by @daily-wof-designs, and the brown tones were pulled from pictures of giant sequoias. she wears braided leather straps hung with aquamarine, and the scarf might be silk? or some kind of natural fiber? i'm not sure. but it has leaf designs and is probably batik dyed (which is super cool btw look it up)

[tearfallpixie]

Trust and Love - Chapter 1: Meeting the band

Tags: @nerdraging4point0 @thesazzb @synthetic-wasp-570 @circle-with-me @beaker1636 @itsjustemily @witchyweeb34 @agravemisstake @cookiesupplier @cncohshit @faceless-mirror @nonamessblog @yournecessaryevil @black-damask1999

@lyschko666 @vinyardmauro @skulliecadaver-blog @some-daniela @latenightmusiclover @rye14-blog1

“Baby girl, they are going to love you.” Ricky assured me. I frowned and stared towards the daunting bus. Ricky and I had been together for 6 months but in that time I hadn’t met his band mates once. Needless to say I was terrified.

“Promise?” I whispered. He pulled me into a kiss and nodded before taking my hand and guiding me to the bus. He opened the door and let me get on first where I was greeted by what I could only describe as chaos. There were people everywhere trying to stock stuff in the kitchen, set consoles up in the living room, make sure that everyone’s bags were by the right bunk. The one I recognized as Chris was the first to look in our direction and thankfully he didn’t rush over.

“You must be Olivia. It will be wonderful having you tour with us for a while.” He gave me a smile and stuck out his hand. I shook it and adjusted my camera bag on my shoulder.

“Hi, you’re Chris. Its nice to finally meet you.” I mumbled.

“Ricky, you two will be bunked in the back lounge. I know it’s a little weird but at least you two get to stay together.” Rick weaved around me and gave Chris a hug.

“Thanks man. I appreciate it. Olive was pretty nervous about being split up while on tour.” Ricky turned around and held out his hand to me. “I’ll show you back.” I took his hand and allowed him to weave me through the people. “The dork with the green hair is Justin. He’s our bassist. That one is Ryan. And this is my personal favorite village idiot, Vinny.” Everyone waved at me but Vinny was the one my eyes focused on. There was just something about his aura that made him so approachable. He had shoulder length wild hair with the front strands dyed a gorgeous red.

“Do you use Manic Panic in your hair?” I asked. Vinny lit up and nodded.

“I love their blood red color.” He told me, pulling at said strands of hair.

“It looks good on you.” He grinned and thanked me.

“You must be Ricks girl. Liv right?” I usually hated the nickname Liv but for some reason it didn’t bother me when he said it.

“Yeah, but no one else is allowed to use that nickname. I hate it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I can-“

“Nah, you get the pass for it. But only you.”

“Awe, we just met and I’m already special!” He threw an arm around my shoulder and hugged me. It took everything in me not to jerk away and start crying. Luckily Ricky stepped in.

“Whoa! Vin, let go.” He pulled Vinny’s arm off me and pulled me into his side. “She’s a touch on her term’s kind of person. I’m sorry I didn’t mention that.” I buried my head into Rickys shoulder and bit back my sobs.

“Liv, I’m so sorry. I’m just naturally touchy. It won’t happen again. I swear.” Vin stuttered.

“I-its ok. It just freaked me out a little. Ricky, can we go to our room please?” I asked.

“Yeah baby, follow me.” He murmured softly. “Vinny’s a good guy but he is very touchy. I’m sorry about that love.” I shook my head and placed a hand on his chest.

“It’s ok. I get that some people are that way. I just wish I wasn’t so … broken.” I mumbled.

“You are not broken. What happened to you was horrendous, but you are not broken because of it. Your ex was a piece of trash. I will never let something like that happen to you again.” I nuzzled under his chin and hummed.

“I know you won’t.” I leaned up and kissed him sweetly before setting my bag on the bed and sitting down. “If its ok, I think I’ll just stay back here for a little while.”

“That’s perfectly fine.” He kissed the top of my head. He was the only person in the world that had permission to touch me freely. Not even my own family could. After what happened they were grateful that I had someone like Ricky to trust and rely on.

“Can you tell Vinny I’m not mad at him?”

“I will. Get some rest baby girl.” I laid down on the bed and tried to close my eyes but the bumps of the bus and the voices up front kept me awake. There was a knock at the door, so I sat up and looked at it.

“Come in.” I called. The door opened and Vinny walked in.

“Hey, can we start over?” He asked. I patted the bed next to me and he smiled, gratefully sitting down. “Hi, I’m Vinny. Local pot head, drummer and very touchy feely.” He smirked, holding out his hand.

“Hi Vinny, I’m Olivia but you and only you can call me Liv. I’ve had a traumatic ex so please don’t touch me without me initiating it.” I giggled, shaking his hand.

“Do I have to murder someone for touching such a beautiful girl?” He asked.

“No, Ricky already made sure of that.” I mumbled. “My ex-“

“You don’t have to tell me.” Vinny waved his hands.

“I want to. In a weird way I trust you already.” I shrugged. “My ex, he use to hit me, abuse me, r-r” I shuddered and shook my head. “Well one day he got bold in public and Ricky saw it. He beat the guy to a pulp and luckily there were witnesses that defended him. Got the guy locked up for 10 years for me. We never stopped talking after that.”

“Ricky is a wonderful friend and an even better partner.” Vinny mused.

“You say that like you’ve had experience with him.” I teased. Vinny frowned.

“Would that bother you?” I shook my head. “When you get comfortable with people and you are trapped on a bus for a good portion of the year together, feelings run, hormones get high.”

“Who tops?” Vinny blushed.

“We have only done oral or hand jobs but I don’t think Ricky would let me top him for his life.”

“Have you two ever shared a partner?”

“Whoa, already having fantasies of us sharing you?” He smirked. “Just kidding. But yes, on numerous occasions. But its only ever been one night stands. Not someone we’ve ever seriously been with.” I let out a big yawn and flopped back down. “I can go if you want.”

“No, its ok. I like chatting with you.”

“Yes, sharing stories of your boyfriends sex life.” He grinned, laying down next to me.

“Ricky’s hot. I can’t have expected him to be a prude all his life. It’s kind of interesting though. I didn’t know he liked guys.” I mused, rolling on my side to look at him.

“I don’t know if he does or if it was just stress relief to him.” I scooted closer and nuzzled under Vinny’s chin feeling very comfortable with him in that moment. He froze and I could tell he was panicking.

“You can put your arm over me.” I assured him. “Once I initiate contact its ok to touch me back.” He hesitantly laid his arm down over my ribcage and buried his head into my hair.

“Your hair smells nice.” He whispered.

“I use this pharmacopeia lemon shampoo. Its amazing.”

“I’m going to have to try that then.” I finally felt myself relaxing to his soft breathing and wasn’t even bothered when he adjusted me to slide his other arm under me. I finally drifted off to sleep and that was how Ricky found us a couple hours later. He gave a soft smile and pulled out his camera to take a photo before silently closing the door and going back up front.

[avonne-writes]

omggggg i’m literally in love w/ ur fem!gale x bucky fic hehehe

i’d love to see more, if ur willing to write more 👀 (preferably smth like: how they meet/get together during the war and them getting engaged/married and them finding out that gales pregnant) they’re so sweet 😭

pls don’t feel like i’m forcing u or anything, i totally understand if u don’t want to write anything more in this au ☻

Re: this fic

Thank you so much, this made me really happy! 🩷

The whole fic came about spontaneously, so I'm not sure yet if there will be more coming, but we can discuss headcanons.

I'm thinking that she was a WASP, before that a member of the Women's Flying Training Detachment which preceded WASP. According to what I read, they started training in September 1942 in Texas. So how about the two of them meeting through the Air Force, maybe at some shindig where WFTD pilots were also invited?

They clicked immediately through a shared sense of humor and love of adventure, and due to their good match of personalities. It didn’t hurt that they found each other gorgeous too.

John probably laid on the charms quickly and heavily but had to realize soon that she wouldn’t fold easily. They had to bond before she trusted him enough to even let him kiss her.

She's not the kind of woman who sleeps around, and I think she wanted to wait with penetrative sex until marriage. So, I think they only had non-penetrative sex before the war, and then got married immediately after he returned. I think when it became clear that he might die overseas, a part of her regretted her decision to wait, but thankfully, it all worked out in the end.

When she gets confirmation that she's pregnant, she feels a lot of joy and serenity. She's really calm about it, she feels like everything is right in the world. She daydreams about various ways in which she could tell him, but he sneaks up on her to surprise her and actually catches her humming and touching her belly. Since they’ve been trying for a baby, he knows immediately and he’s overjoyed. There’s definitely some tears, laughter and spinning her around.

[macabre-mangled]

Love Like Wolves

OBI-WAN KENOBI X READER (gender neutral)

WARNINGS: canon typical violence and innuendos, insecurity (on readers end), brief mention of small age gap

SUMMARY: Obi-Wan assures you you're his despite it being secret

A/N: hot dilf. I also don't proofread my writing so deal with it lmao

Satine was gorgeous. You'd admit that. She also was so kind which made it hard when she was clearly showing interest in your lover. Obi-Wan wasn't flirting back by any means, but that didn't stop the hands of that ugly feeling to take hold of your brain. You of course masked it with the force, knowing that he could sense it otherwise. He could definitely tell something was wrong, but didn't have any idea what. You excused yourself to go and lick your wounds like a cowardly youngling. If Obi-wan was concerned he didn't voice it.

In our quarters you didn't find much peace either. in fact you had been pacing, your lightsaber clinking in its holster as you did. You know Obi-Wan would never be disloyal despite no one knowing about you two. He's not the type. However; it also means he can't publicly claim you. Maker, you sound so primitive. Is that really what we are in the end? Just like animals? Are you the same as a loth wolf? They mate for life. Does Obi view you as his life partner? All These thoughts swarmed your head like wasps. Obi was older than you, surely he's smart enough to not throw away a good thing. At least you hoped so.

"They're a good catch, Master Kenobi."

saltines eyes glittered as she spoke, A knowing glint in her eyes. Obi took notice and looked around in panic.

"Relax, I will not speak of it to anyone."

"If I may ask; how did you know?"

Obi-Wan didn't think he was THAT obvious. Or was he? Maker, he hopes not.

"The way you look at them. Its not obvious, but if someone knows where to look they can tell. Now, I will be taking my leave."

He watches Satine go. He surely hopes no one heard their conversation. Maker knows how much trouble he'd be in if the council found out. he wouldn't be able to take it if they took you from him. You're his light in the dark. He NEEDS you. Although now he's picking up on your distress. How did he not notice before? He starts off towards your quarters. He knows how you get. He just hopes you'll be in the mood to let him calm you down.

Upon his arrival he knocks twice then three times; the secret knock you two have. When you open the door he's greeted with your glare. Oh maker, what did he do? He doesn't recall doing anything. Your strained voice startles him out of his reverie.

"How's Satine? You two have fun making eyes at each other?"

Your tone gave away your emotions, something Jedi are not supposed to do. But right now you didn't care. Realization hit Obi-Wan's face.

"Darling, we weren't doing anything of that sort. Satine knows about us."

He calmly said in something just above a whisper as he slowly moved to cradle you in his arms. You let your shoulders fall. you knew this was ridiculous. Of course he wouldn't. You knew that, but maker that feeling took you by the horns. So you gathered all your courage to ask him the one question you had in the back of your mind.

"Do you see me as a life partner? Like would you marry me if you could?"

If he hadn't been right next to you he wouldn't have heard it. But he did and it made his heart ache how small you sounded. He knew you had insecurities, but never had he heard you sound so unsure. The answer was obvious he thought.

"Of course my darling, It's only you. We're bonded like loth wolves. Nothing or anyone will change that."

You snuggled closer to him at his words but his hand held you softly by the chin to look into his eyes. His eyes held an unspoken question and yours held the answer.

[sunfortune]

i think i get what makes the 2005 p&p movie so much more popular (and why the distaste for the 1995 miniseries). and im aware i might be fully swinging at a wasps nest.

its bc its essentially Disney’s Pride & Prejudice. the 2005 movie basically just takes the premise of the story and turns it into a romantic fantasy almost. like the misty moors scene is almost too goofy (and imo actually is) in reference to the actual story and character. it overly dramatizes the story at the cost of the depth that made the story so enduringly popular, but that also makes it much easier to consume. this just feels like adding insult to injury now, but i do feel like the 1995 series basically directly lifting the dialogue straight from the novel means that if someone can’t keep up or comprehend early 1800s speaking mannerisms (and the entire story being communicated via the acting and dialogue), they end up basically missing out on the whole thing. (i only say this bc ive discovered that much more people than i thought seem to actually struggle with this)

also i do not understand what is the deal with that damn hand clench. i never understood the (sorry) grasp that scene had on people. the fact that when i last saw it (do not update me i do not want to know) that poll had the matthew mcfayden darcy slightly winning. collin firth said “you’ve bewitched me body and soul” with his eyes better than matt mcf did with his actual mouth. ill say tho that the hand clench scene was necessary bc idk how anyone was supposed to sense darcys attraction when matt mcf made the bold choice to channel eyeore into his portrayal of mr darcy.

i honestly like the hand clench scene in 2005 for the same reason you mentioned bc it is like the ONLY moment that gave any tangible evidence that there was actually something there. every time i bring up how chemistry-less they were in 2005 everyone is like ‘yeah that’s his personality! it’s supposed to be like that!’ etc etc. LIKE a stoic-afraid of his feelings-repressed male character type has never been done in romance before -_-. be serious. you can have ALL that and still have tension and chemistry. (as an example north and south guy has a similar character with a more serious subject matter even! but you can STILL feel the attraction. the pull!) they don’t have that in p&p 2005. which dulls the romance before we even get into the loser behavior of rewriting lizzie’s personality to make her softer

like to me it’s a very pretty movie with gorgeous cinematography and some great scenes but watching it as a complete work and in context…i just do not feel what everyone else is feeling. im sorry </3

[seeminglydeathlessredshirt]

Ramblings on Bioshock Infinite

So, I've decided to start writing down how I feel about what I'm playing here rather than wait for my friends to be online so I can infodump at them.

Anyway, Bioshock: Infinite. The original was pretty alright. I didn't get all the way through it because I was getting a bit tired of Rapture and some other little annoyances, but it was a perfectly decent experience. Skipped past 2 because once again, not in the mood for spending a dozen more hours underwater, and went right to the one that people fuss about all the time to see what the fuss is all about.

I shouldn't have gone out of my way to see what all the fuss is about.

Spoilers for an 11-year old game will follow, but I do not recommend going out and checking this out yourself.

To its credit, the game does have a very strong opening. The welcome centre/church you arrive in offers absolutely gorgeous visuals and a strange yet interesting blend of Christian motifs and the weird sort of reverence built up around the founders of America. "Gee," I thought, "maybe this will be a game that finally tackles religion in an interesting and nuanced way that doesn't just feel like it was written by a 14-year old who just discovered Reddit." Unfortunately, it doesn't(if anyone knows a game that does, please let me know.) After a level where you walk around and take in the sights of Columbia(an experience that feels like walking into a veritable wasp nest. Either one, take your pick), you're thrust into your standard action game plot shenanigans. Kill a bunch of guys while someone rants at you over an intercom, go through various setpieces, all that good stuff.

Is the killing actually all that fun? For a certain stretch of the game, yes. You have some okay abilities, a good selection of weapons to choose from, and takedowns are pretty cool as well. The skyrails scattered around some maps are gimmicky, though a welcome addition(the irony of a game like this leaning heavily on what are basically rollercoasters is not lost on me.) But somewhere past the halfway point, it takes a steep nosedive. The weapon list gets bloated to hell and back, and a combination of the carry limit of two plus the tendency to only ever give ammo for everything you don't want to use drags it down. Enemies also seem to get substantially spongier and more numerous, which makes fights incredibly unsatisfying. Bioshock was already firmly in that grey area between immersive sim and combat sandbox, and Infinite is neither of those. Everything feels so much less versatile, there's no thinking outside the box to be done here.

As for the rest of the story, you may have heard about how centrist it gets, and I am sad to report that everything they said was true. What really gets me is how it's already setting up the "both sides are the exact same thing" even before the characters would have any reason to think that. They're literally basing this entire viewpoint off of "oh, the workers are being violent about overthrowing their oppressors, that's super bad, right????" This game also does try to tackle things like racism but I don't exactly have a good eye for whether or not something tackles that matter maturely, so all I'll say is that it feels very surface-level and inconsequential. "Inconsequential" can sum up everything else in this paragraph too because it's all eventually abandoned for !!Dimensional Shenanigans!! This is what the last few levels are taken up by entirely and all it accomplishes is covering over a weak attempt at social themes with an even weaker attempt at sci-fi themes. The ending is certainly a bit more batshit than you'd expect for your standard seventh-generation slop, but it can't salvage this. The fanservice just reminded me of a somewhat better game. I would make a joke about this game only having two characters, but then it goes out of its way to say "yes, there really are only two characters."

I am not playing the fucking DLCs.

[the-daily-spider]

what's your favorite species of:

spider

wasp

butterfly

moth

beetle

(bonus points if u include pics for each one)

AHHH AHH AHH OK OK!! This ask actually made me so excited I couldn’t even think about responding for a few moments cause I was stimming so hard. Oh my god. Ok. Wow this is a tough question.

Starting with spiders!!! Ok I KNOW there’s a lot of super cool/crazy/smart/venomous/absolutely buckwild species out there but my favorite is purely sentimental. It’s Tigrosa Georgicola. I see them everywhere where I live and they’re one of the first species I ever picked up. My phone screen is literally a photo of me holding one.

I’ve got a soft spot for wolf spiders anyways cause they purr and carry their babies on their backs and are just so gorgeous and big and amazing but this one especially is so good. One of the most docile species of spider I’ve handled, and their orange banding against their dark brown bodies is just so gorgeous. They’re literally tortoiseshell, what more could you want? And they get SO BIG it’s always such a delight finding one of these guys I love them so much

Next up wasp. Oh man big question. Lots and lots of good options and I am SO fond of paper wasps and mud daubers but I think if I had to pick a favorite it would be Auplopus carbonarius. They’re an absolutely TINY species of spider wasp that I’ve only had the pleasure of meeting once. Adults only get about 3/8” long. They also make little barrels to store food in!! And are great recyclers with their nests, they often take over old beetle burrows!! That’s so cool they’re like little home renovators. Here’s a pic of me holding one

Alright onto butterfly. This one’s a little harder since I’m not super into butterflies, but man there’s still definitely some really cool ones.

My favorite has gotta be Hamadryas feronia, aka the variable cracker. That entire genus is fucking gorgeous though, so shout out to some of the other species like the red cracker, ringless blue cracker, grey cracker, and the velutina cracker. Seriously just look up cracker butterflies. They’re all gorgeous. They also make a really cool cracking noise!! Look it up!!

Ok ok next! favorite moth. This is a REAL close toss-up between clearwing hummingbird moths and buff-tip moths. Vampire moths were also high up on the list, but I think buff-tip moths have to win. Phalera bucephala to be more specific. They’re just so delightful. Their camouflage is SO GOOD they really do look like such perfect little broken pieces of branch. It’s endlessly endearing. AND their caterpillars are such a pretty yellow color. Everything about these guys just makes me smile

Next is beetle!!! Ok I’m a basic bitch on this one sorry, but trilobite beetles have won my heart. I don’t have a specific favorite species within the genus, they’re all just amazing. It’s also really funny to me how big the difference is between males and females. The females retain their larval form as adults, which is already cool enough for any species, but it’s especially wild seeing how these guys’ larval form looks. There’s nothing about these guys that isn’t amazing to me