#and bitchy demeanor

[uselessgay10101]

Me waiting for September 26th like

[whydotheycallmechimney]

hayyyyyyy supernatural fandom, spare a like? I'm just starting s5 of the show and I'm looking for new blogs to follow, spoilers be damned. especially more deangirls and casgirls, bc their tags are full of destiel (said with peace and love) so it's been hard stalking ppl to follow. also I'm in love with every single woman who has ever appeared on this show <3

[polaris-likethestar]

i relate to agatha harkness in an unhealthy way

[kna1lgrau]

not this mf getting his ass electrocuted for a second time (five minutes after this dialogue happened) so that both Nami AND Usopp could escape.

[ronnyraygun]

Okay, like, fuck New 52, but, like, every time I think about how Tim’s first canonical queer relationship could have been with Miguel (THEY WERE R I G H T THERE. IT WAS A DATE. THEY WENT TO PRIDE. MIGUEL A N D TIM NEVER TOLD THE TEAM. “I felt like a prince just being next to him.” WTF, DC?!??) I get a little sad, because, like…Miguel loved Tim, and if DC weren’t cowards, we could have seen Tim give him that back. Tim went to him for help personally. He opened himself up to like that, LIKE THE WAY HE DID TO CASSIE AND KON. AND—

FUCK NEW 52 BUT RED ROBIN/BUNKER WILL ALWAYS BE REAL TO ME.

[abimee]

that reminds me. i really miss when we got a brief look at yshtola and urianger friendship in shadowbringers and then they put the divider between them going nuh uh uh girls cant be friends with boys. and then sectioned urianger off with thancred and ruining my life

[sin-esthezia]

the thing that gets me the most about ableism against pd’s is that ppl will be like “these disorders make you an ASSHOLE!!!!” and then turn around and pretend that other disorders can’t and don’t make you act shitty.

depression and anxiety can make you irritable and snappy. they can cause you to refuse to listen to people and to be distant and withdrawn. they can cause you to seem angry, bitchy, rude, uncaring, etc.

ptsd causes an array of difficulties in forming meaningful relationships. it pretty much shakes up your entire worldview and sense of self a lot of the time. ptsd can cause you to get angry often. it can cause you to yell and scream. it can cause you to withdraw from others, run away, or cut them out. it can cause general changes in demeanor and more cynical worldviews. it can make you seem grouchy, negative, explosive, impolite, difficult, needy, controlling, etc.

and yet when people with personality disorders have symptoms of that nature, suddenly we are irredeemable monsters. when it’s npd, bpd, hpd, or aspd instead of ptsd or depression and anxiety, people suddenly and magically lose the ability to be understanding.

mental illness is an explanation, not an excuse. i firmly believe that. hurting others is never justified simply because you have any disorder.

but if you can be patient with people who have depression, anxiety, ptsd, ocd, or any other LESS stigmatized mental illness, you can be patient with us.

[demonicintegrity]

I started House today

[mylordshesacactus]

While we're on the subject:

Everyone understands that Shadowheart's early-game bitchiness is a terrified, performative coping mechanism too, right?

Like.

She was raised in a cult. She has a shock collar. She has a shock collar built into her hand, that her goddess uses to remotely torture her whenever she even thinks something that's vaguely out of line. Not rebellious, not resentful, not disrespectful--just not what Shar personally wants her to be thinking.

Of course she goes out of her way to be vocally, egregiously disrespectful to Selune--to be absolutely pathologically diehard about the Sharran propaganda, even though the things she's saying about Sharran beliefs directly contradict her actual approval metrics. It is pathological. She is regularly tortured for not doing that. You SEE her be regularly tortured for not doing that.

She doesn't even know what she believes. Like, genuinely--Minthara's not wrong, Shadowheart very literally doesn't know who she is or why she supposedly believes these things that don't actually match up with what does or does not feel right to her. She can't remember! Her evil goddess stole her memories! She's scared! She's clinging to what very little she knows!

And the more you push her on that--the harder you pressure her, the more confrontational you get in moments where she's already confused and overwhelmed, well. She reacts like a very realistic cult victim--she doubles down on what she's been told, because she's been conditioned to believe that those things make her safe.

Whereas if you don't enable her--you don't have to be cool with her casually going "oh yeah we torture people", you can push back when it matters, but. If you don't enable her, but also don't make her feel like she's under siege--if you listen when she tells you she doesn't want to talk about it yet, if you give her the time and space she wants, you respect her privacy, you back off when her voice and demeanor are obviously becoming scared and defensive--

If you, frankly, treat her like an actual cult victim, don't let her draw you into a debate, just consistently model acceptance and compassion--she blooms like a goddamn night orchid.

[marc--chilton]

this timestamp specifically THIS warble is THE gentle alpha!wilson noise

(mgv) i won't lie every time i say that wilson makes some sort of alpha vocalization the sound library in my brain plays one of toothless's noises

[donatellawritings]

rafe w a brat that he needs to teach how to behave!!

i love love love this scenario :3

usually, you were rafe’s sweet girl, always stretching your swollen lips into a doll-like smile, well behaved, and constantly eager to please and be tended to by rafe. you were naturally submissive to him, much thanks to your slight age-gap and the stark contrast between his undying need to be ‘the man’ and your desire to nurture rafe and one day, become a trophy wife. however, there were times where you would slip a bit too deep into your spoiled side, you had grown accustomed to having rafe’s undivided attention and you’d fallen into a damaging pattern to where you simply assumed that his answer to your every request would be ‘yes’. so, on the rare occasion where you didn’t get what you want, your smile would fall into an entitled frown, your usually bright doe eyes squinting into an annoyed gaze. you played the spoiled little princess role with ease, it was easy for your normally sweet to fall sour when you didn’t get your way.

this time, you’d fallen into a needy headspace, you were obnoxiously whiny and filled with an attitude that made rafe want to knock you upside you pretty little head, but he’d been uncharacteristically calm towards you, brushing off your bitchy demeanor with light taps of his hand against your ass, or chaste kisses to your forehead. rafe could handle you, so much so that it furthered your frustrations, you knew that you could get away with pushing his patience for so long. truth be told, you were just overly needy, maybe it was your hormones skyrocketing from your impending menstrual cycle, but you just couldn’t seem to want to pull yourself away from rafe.

you watched with a displeased frown as rafe adjusted his rolex to fasten securely around his wrist, a concentrated frown now worn on his handsome face as he buttoned up his white dress-shirt. rafe’s bright blues fell on yours as you watched him through the mirror, your swollen lips pulled into an entitled pout as you aimlessly scrolled on your phone, “cut it out already, y’know i have to go to work today — been with you all weekend,” rafe scolded, leaving the top two notches on his shirt unbuttoned. wordlessly, you rolled your eyes with a huff, crossing your arms against your chest as you tossed your phone aside.

“then just go already,” you sighed, your swollen and sensitive breasts expanding against your nude scoop neck bralette as you licked over your dior glossed lips. bratty tears were quick to well in your eyes as you blinked your wispy eyelashes together. a breath of frustration could he heard from rafe as he walked towards the side of the bed where you laid, your eyes glazed over as you stared at the ceiling. “i don’t wanna talk to you,” you whined, lying straight through your pearly whites.

rafe was quick to pinch your cheeks together as he held a bruising grip on your jaw, roughly pulling your face to meet his gaze, “m’gonna knock you the fuck out, quit it already,” he threatened, mushing your cheeks further as you fell short at pulling your face from his tight hold. you mumbled incoherently, your lipgloss smearing, causing rafe to release your jaw, lightly slapping your cheek, “such a spoiled fuckin’ girl,” he muttered, his eyes softening at the sight of two fat tears rolling down your concealed underye, leaving a mascara tinted stream to stain your puffy cheeks.

your matching nude boy shorts rode up into the crease where your thighs and hips met as you hastily stood from the bed, your face instantly meeting rafe’s clothed chest as you lightly shoved him, “go away,” you sniffled, much to no avail as rafe caught both of your wrists, harshly shaking you as you refused to allow your gaze to meet his. you knew that you were being difficult, but you had a rough week with grueling exams — you needed a good fuck to knock you back into normalcy.

“hey-hey! the fuck is goin’ on with you?” rafe shouted, gripping your wrists tighter as you tried to snatch yourself away from his grip. a small cry seeped out of your plump lips as you forced your eyes closed, “y’wanna be a fuckin’ brat, makin’ me late for work — hitting me, yeah?” he moved both of your wrists into one of his hands, unbuckling his leather belt with his free hand as you stood silently, staring at your baby pink toenails.

“papi, i-”

rafe sighed, a non-verbal way of shutting you up as his belt felt to the floor, “can’t believe that my girl, my sweet girl is fuckin’ hitting me now — bend over and keep your arms behind you,” he spat, hastily shoving your wrists out of his tight hold, keeping his eyes away from your tear soaked ones as you meekly spun around, your back now facing rafe as you bent over, crossing your arms behind your back. “i should smack the shit out of you, actin’ like y’dont know who the fuck i am,” rafe continues his rant, kicking your legs apart as he roughly wrapped the leather belt around your wrists, notching it tightly.

fisting his hand into your curled hair, rafe tanked your head up, bringing his lips to your ear, “y’gonna take this shit like my good girl, i don’t give a fuck if you cry — y’understand me?” he spoke sternly, tugging at your hair once more to garner a verbal answer from you.

“i understand, papi,” you cried, your voice wobbly as rafe abruptly let go of your hair, leaving your dolled up face to fall against the comforter, a small squeak leaving your smeared lips as you watched rafe shake his head in disproval.

“i understand, papi — now she remembers who i am, fuckin’ brat,” rafe mutters, mocking your pout as he grabs the band of your seamless boyshorts, pulling them down your legs, leaving them to pool around your ankles as his large hands spread your plush ass cheeks apart, spitting a glob of saliva to your eager hole, before messily spreading the slick around with his fingers. your body jolted as his slick fingers smeared his spit around your puckered asshole, a muffled moan escaping your throat, “should fuck your ass, maybe you’ll calm the fuck down,” he groaned, freeing his hard cock from his briefs, slowly dragging his thick mushroom tip across your folds.

silently, you bit down into the lush comforter, a garbled cry escaping through your clenched teeth as rafe pressed his leaking tip into your puckered hole, “fuck, s’too big,” you mewled into the comforter, your watery mascara and sticky lipgloss smearing against the fabric as dug your french manicured nails into the leather of rafe’s belt.

rafe’s eyes fluttered closed as he filled your tight ass to the hilt, his stomach tight as you swallowed him whole, the tips of your nails ghosting against his hips as you ached to touch rafe, “keep your fuckin’ hands down,” he huffed through parted lips, his hand forcing your restrained wrists to remain firmly placed against your lower back, earning a throaty sob from you as he sent a harsh thrust into the plush of your ass.

once your tight hole became comfortably stretched around rafe’s length, your cries subsided into smiley moans as rafe pushed your head further into the mattress, “look at you — fuckin’ smiling and lookin’ so pretty, shit,” rafe laughed, his jaw slack open as he pulled out, a smirk pulling at his lips at the ‘pop’ sound that came from your slick and puckered hole.

spit drooled out of the corner of your mouth as rafe filled your tight ass again, before he pulled out once more, repeating the process about six times, a blush creeping to your cheeks as you took in the suction of your ass clinging around rafe’s cock. “please, papi, please cum inside of me,” you croaked out, your voice hoarse and raw from your earlier screams of painful bliss. rafe remained silent, aside from sporadic grunts as he lowered his head to yours, his sweaty hips slapping against your ass.

“y’want papi to cum in your cute little ass, huh?” he hummed teasingly, before bringing his index and middle fingers to your mouth, shoving them to the back of your throat as you gagged around his knuckles, slicking his fingers with your saliva. you let out a greedy gasp of air as rafe brought his wet fingers down to your leaking hole, forcing his thick fingers inside of your aching hole. “answer me, mama,” he coaxed, matching the thrust of his fingers to the rhythm of his firm hips.

“yes- yes, please fill me up, fuck,” you cried, a sharp yelp leaving your mouth as rafe lifted one of your legs, a loud cry shortly following after as rafe’s hand clasped around the front of your neck, holding you up to his sticky chest. your swollen lips remained parted as you stared at rafe, the sound of your wet holes squelching around his cock and fingers, now leaving you a cock-drunk mess.

with a few more harsh thrusts, rafe leaned his forehead against the back of your shoulder, letting out a groan through his clenched sharp teeth as his warm cup filled you up just right. his fingers slowly exited your tight warmth as he lazily rested his arm around your waist, holding you steady as he gently pulled his hips away from your ass, a burst of pride blooming in his chest as you let out a pained whine. completely fucked out, you fell into rafe’s arm, letting out a whiny hiss as his filling length slipped out of you.

rafe carefully bent you over once more, stuffing his cock into his briefs as he walked over to you, crouching beside your face as you brought your eyes to his with a soft smile, “y’gonna sit there like a good girl, okay mama?” he cooed, smoothing a sweet hand down your hair as you nodded, before your lips fell into a wobbly pout. your eyes welled with overstimulated tears as rafe soothingly rubbed your back that was sticky with drying sweat, “fuck, let me take this off of you,” rafe’s eyes widened with slight panic as he unbuckled the belt that was tightly fastened around your delicate wrists.

rafe quickly ran his hand through his buzzed hair at the sight of your bruising wrist, before leaning down to your flushed face, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. your chest hiccuped with childlike cries, “you-you didn’t even kiss me,” you squeaked.

rafe rolled his eyes in feigned annoyance, “that was the point, pretty girl,” he sighed, lightly scratching at your scalp as you wrapped a needy arm around his neck.

[idolomantises]

Sometimes I get messages about certain dialogue in my comics about how a character is being passive aggressive when I'm just writing them as straight forward and blunt.

idk, as an autistic person who's dealt with genuine harassment several times (including a few months ago) because his straight forward and blunt demeanor was misinterpreted as being "rude", "ungrateful" and "bitchy", its just kind of interesting seeing people interpret dialogue in a more hostile way.

it's not a complaint, i prefer those fictional interpretations over terminally online twitter users who need to be coddled over everything but it is kind of fascinating seeing how people interpret certain dialogue.

[watchyourbuck]

The thing about Tommy is that he’s very pretty. Everything about him is intoxicatingly attractive, and no matter where they go, people follow. Men, particularly.

Buck isn’t necessarily the jealous type. He’s had his fair share of protecting ex girlfriends from creeps and dudes who won’t back off, but this is different. This feels like a constant, extremely symptomatic migraine.

Of course girls throw themselves at him, but the mere fact that they have no chance makes it less angering. It’s the studs, and the twinks, and the huge men who put their hands on his man. That cup his ass almost as a greeting gesture. That play with his hair, and whisper in his ear.

And Tommy isn’t stupid. He knows he’s being flirted with, but since he could never have eyes for anyone who isn’t Buck, he doesn’t see the need to be rude. So he keeps it at ‘No, thank you’’s, and polite, refusing smiles. And yes, that’s yet another one of the qualities Buck loves about him. Because he doesn’t like violence. But then again, it fires up the unwavering possessiveness brewing in the pit of his stomach.

So Buck’s gotten creative. Now that they’re officially a couple, and go out on dates every weekend — to different places, if he might add —, he’s had to get handy with the way he lets people know Tommy’s his.

He orders with him at the bar, makes sure to say ‘my boyfriend’ and strategically places his hands on parts of Tommy’s body that would get him punched if they weren’t together. It works, for the most part.

But there’s always that one guy who can’t take a hint.

“You’re like a Greek god,” he whispers and Buck rolls his eyes. “Greek gods shouldn’t be alone.”

It’s a twenty-something year old dude that looks like he’s missing a college class. He’s wearing a tank top and eyeliner and he’s about a second away from earning himself all of Buck’s un-contained rage.

“I’m not alone,” Tommy says, pointing at him, and god bless his heart. “This is my partner.”

Buck bends forward a bit to wave enthusiastically, but it comes out bitchy. He’s almost sorry but then the guy barely acknowledges him, putting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and rubbing circles on the exposed skin. Tommy’s hand tightens on his hip, keeping him still.

“You know, I’m very flexible,” the guy says and Buck is currently making a deal with god to grant him patience. “I could show you just how much.”

“Oh, you’re not showing him anything,” Buck barks, right from over Tommy’s head. If he has to get on his tippy toes to do that, well, the other guy doesn’t have to know.

“Evan,” Tommy warns, but it’s endearing, it carries no threat. He turns his head to the kid and tilts it. “You should find a guy who’s interested. I’m not.”

Buck absolutely preens, a cocky smirk settling on his face. He’s about to claim victory when he notices the guy’s demeanor doesn’t change, and he actually steps closer. “That’s because you don’t know what you’re missing, daddy.”

Nope. A surge of something primal and almost maniac courses through his body, and before Tommy can do anything about it, Buck’s rounding him and taking the guy’s wrist and squeezing it. He’s shorter than Tommy but significantly bigger than this kid, so he towers over him easily. “Take your hands off him if you want to keep them.”

The kid’s face contorts in fear. “What’s your problem, dude!”

Buck laughs, his only point of connection to reality being Tommy’s hand on his belt loops, holding him in place. “My problem,” he says, his voice deeper, “is that you can’t seem to take no for an answer. He’s told you he’s not alone. So, back off before I make you.”

His eyes shift from Buck’s to Tommy’s, who Buck can only guess has a soft but unreadable expression on his face. When the kid isn’t defended by Tommy, he snags his hand back, scoffs and takes off.

Buck watches him until he loses him to the crowd, then lets out a big breath, closing his eyes momentarily. He turns to Tommy, expecting to find judgy or at least annoyed eyes. He doesn’t.

“Not that I wanna encourage you,” Tommy says, sitting on a stool to pull Buck closer, right between his legs. “But that was really hot.”

Buck huffs out a laugh but it’s vaguely one. “I’m just— he wouldn’t stop touching you. You’re, ugh, you’re—!”

Tommy tilts his head, chasing after Buck’s gaze when he looks to the side. “You can say it.”

Buck bites his lip and stares. How could he not, after all. “You’re mine,” de declares, definitive and on the verge of angry. “And I don’t like men touching what’s mine.”

And he knows. There’s a fine line between sexy possessive and psychopathically controlling, and he’s walking it like a rope between two buildings, but the look on Tommy’s face and the unmistakable sight of the front of his pants growing tighter doesn’t help him get off the high horse. “We can always make a scene,” Tommy shrugs, getting up again and cornering Buck against the bar.

Buck’s eyes darken, even through the pain on his tailbone. His arms surge forward to wrap around Tommy’s neck and bring him down. And if they do make a scene, if they do make out messily and desperately for everyone to see, then it’s truly not his problem what they think. As long as they know who Tommy belongs to.

[aspiringjester]

out of all the possible configurations of binghe and shen qingqiu i think my favorite has to be bing(ge)yuan bc yes yes something about bingge being denied the kind shizun that bingmei has and literally crossing universes to find his own is all pretty and stuff

...BUT mostly becuase there's no fucking way mr peerless cucumber himself shen yuan doesn't see what appears to be luo binghe, assumes he's a cosplayer (logical??) and absolutely RIP this stranger to SHREDS over the "inaccuaracies" of his "costume" and leave bingge in a mix of "how DARE you" and "his sickly demeanor and bitchy attitude have captivated me"

and honestly it's the funniest thing in the world to me

[chrissturnsfav]

singer!reader riding rapper!chris thigh begging him to touch her but he won’t after she’s had snarky comments all day

I NEED THIS SJSJSJDJ

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris loves to tease singer!reader after she's been bratty

"please," you whine, desperately trying to get yourself off on chris' thigh, the king size bed quietly creaking underneath both of your body.

your eyes are closed, your brows furrowed together as your panties stick uncomfortably to your slick folds, the scent of weed lingering in the air from the joint between chris' lips.

he's refusing to touch you. after dealing with your attitude and little bitchy comments all day? absolutely not.

hes sat beneath you as you straddle his thigh, his hands at his sides, a wicked grin on his lips, snickering to himself as he watches you through glazed over eyes. "so desperate, ain't you?" he taunts, making your fingers clench around his t-shirt tighter.

"just touch me...please...chris," you whimper, your voice laced with need, your expression pathetic as you ride his thigh faster, but you need his touch.

"you're wildin'," he chuckles, exhaling a large cloud of smoke, "wantin' me to touch you after i've been dealin' wit' a brat all day…s'not happenin' mama."

"i need it," you whine, opening your eyes half lidded with a swirl of desperation and lust in them, rocking your hips in an uncoordinated, needy rhythm, your arousal transferring onto the material of his jeans.

"nah, you're good," he says through the same, wicked smirk. "why can't y'get y'self off, hm? looks like you're tryin' real hard."

"i need you, please, i need you," you whine, your tone getting more desperate and frustrated as you speak and tug at the collar of his shirt, "please touch me."

"i said no," he mumbles, the joint between his lips as he puffs out smoke between words, "only good girls get to be touched, not brats, shoulda thought 'bout speakin' to me the way y'did all day if y'wanted to fuck." he grips your hips tightly, stopping your needy motions.

"m'sorry," you whimper, a quiet whine of frustration and pleasure as you squirm your hips, trying to rub against his thigh harder but to no avail, "please."

"sorry f'what? use those words f'me," he taunts.

"m'sorry for b—mmph—being a brat...all day," you gasp out as his fingers slowly loosen on your hips, allowing you to continue just a little bit.

"y'think y'deserve it?" he hums, his tinted red eyes swirling with arousal and dominance up at you as he takes another drag from his joint.

"y-yeah...i'm...m'sorry baby," you whisper through heavy breaths tainted with desperation.

chris' demeanor shifts, his expression dominant and aroused. he places the joint back between his lips before flipping you over, earning a shriek of shock and relief from you as his hands grip your hips harder.

"look at the mess y'made on my pants," he scoffs, leaning up on his knees as he grips your chin, forcing you to look at your stickiness on his jeans. your cheeks flush as your eyes dart from his to the stain on his jeans, "sorry...sorry," you whisper.

he snickers under his breath, unbuckling his belt with one hand, the other swinging your thighs over his shoulders, "hope y'ready ma, cause i ain't gonna go easy on ya."

divider creds: @kyejiz

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: just wanted to say, the end dialogue is inspired by a fic written by @sturnioz in her fb!chris x shy!reader au!!

thank you for reading! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[gale-force-storm]

I feel like most of the Wyll x Gale/Bladeweave content I see focuses on "Look at these two charming gentlemen! Lovely fancy lads <3" and like yes, totally, but also. Also.

These two would be such a sassy, bitchy, passive-aggressive couple

Gale "I won't take this lying down. That seems more your style" Dekarios and Wyll "I was wrong about you. You aren't actually insufferably randy. You're just insufferable" Ravenguard?

Gale "I'd wish you a bright future, but as you cannot escape your own company that would be a futile gesture" Dekarios and Wyll "I used to think first love was unsurpassable but you're much more tolerable now that you've found your second" Ravenguard?

These two would go to a ball, take a few turns around the dancefloor, have a lovely evening, and then spend the entire trip home living their best Statler and Waldorf lives just roasting everyone who annoyed them

And gods help you if you manage to genuinely piss off both of them. Forget swords and spells, they'd eviscerate you with their words alone

They may not be as openly catty as Astarion, but their gentlemanly demeanor just means when they roast someone they do it ~eloquently~, and I for one love that for them