#anyways if anyone has an answer on that i'd appreciate it! :)

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Appendix: Assorted Edward Quotes

I am yet again cutting a digression out of my 2+4 essay - this time it's evidence of what Edward is like when Gordon's not bloody around/involved (lol. I want to show that there is a difference!) Notice that there is one example when Gordon is present, however it's when Gordon is at the height (depth?) of his Disgrace Arc and for a couple of months or whatever hasn't said Boo to anyone.

However I will be offering no further analysis/explanation at this time, I just want the quotes here in case I need to link to them. So, just, er... consider this an Edward appreciation post, I guess. Yeah. Those always go over well, anyway. Look, I'll slap a picture on it. We're good.

He waited and waited - there was no whistle, no green flag. "Peep, peep, peep, peep - where is that Guard?"... / Edward began to get cross. "Are we ever going to start?" (1923)

Then the Driver pulled the lever, and Edward puffed away. / "Peep, peep," he whistled. "Look at me now." (1923)

It was fun playing with trucks. He would come up quietly and give them a pull. / "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" screamed the trucks. "Whatever is happening?" / Then he would stop and the silly trucks would go bump into each other. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" they cried again. / Edward pushed them until they were running nicely, and when they weren't expecting it he would stop; one of them would be sure to run on to another line. (1923) 

"I've got some trucks to take home tomorrow," he told him. "If you take them instead, I'll push coaches in the Yard." (1925) 

They both rested at the next station; Edward told James how Gordon had stuck on the hill, and he had to push him up! / James laughed so much that he got hiccoughs and surprised an old lady in a black bonnet. (1925-6) 

"Shall I help you, James?" called Edward. / "No, thank you," answered James, "I'll pull them myself." / "Good, don't let them beat you." … "Peep pip peep peep! You're doing well!" whistled Edward, as James slowly struggled up the hill[.] (1925-6) 

"How beautifully you wheeshed him," laughed Edward. "I can't wheesh like that." (1926-1934) 

"Hullo Henry," said Edward, "you look splendid; I was pleased to hear your happy whistle yesterday." (1926-1934) 

"The engines in their Shed were excited and wondered who would pull the Royal Train. "I'm too old to pull important trains," said Edward sadly. (1952)

"Peep! peep! we're late," fussed Edward. "Peep! peeppipeep! Where is Thomas? He doesn't usually make us wait." (1952)

"Do save him, Sir! You've got room, Sir!" / "Yes, Edward, I've got room," laughed the Vicar, "but I don't need a Traction-engine!" / "He'll saw wood, and give children rides. Do buy him, Sir, please!" (1952)

So Duck came to Edward's station. / "It's not fair," he complained, "Diesel has made The Fat Controller and all the engines think I'm horrid." / Edward smiled. "I know you aren't," he said, "and so does The Fat Controller. You wait and see." (1957) 

Edward brought workmen to clear the mess. / "Douglas was grand Sir," he said. "James had no steam left, but Douglas worked hard enough for three. I heard him from my Yard." (1959)

"... So I tried very hard, but I couldn't work properly, and they put me on a siding. I stayed there for days and days. Other engines were there too. I was afraid…" / "I'd have been frightened too," said Edward. (1960)

"The Fat Controller told Edward he was to run ahead of the special train to make sure that the line was clear. /"Does that mean...?" he asked excitedly. / "Wait and see," smiled the Fat Controller. (1995)

[haze-of-hyperfixations]

🎱🥤🧩

hi foxy!! :)

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats

and bonus fun facts because i like talking: i joined ao3 in 2021. my ao3 is hyperfixation_or_death. i currently have 22 fics on ao3! with most of them (14 of them) being for the fandom Parallels (TV 2022). my current longest fic is 4,620 words. (it's a Parallels fic called impulsive haircuts and what they mean for your future)

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

an author i love: (i am resisting the urge to recommend you to yourself because that defeats the purpose of recommendations. but to everyone else, consider this a recommendation. go read foxy's fics if you like qsmp or ducktales!)

midas_touch_of_angst is an incredible author! multi-fandom, but it was the snicketverse fics that altered the course of my life and changed my brain chemistry forever with how much i loved them.

also i know some of you people are rottmnt fans. i personally haven't seen it yet. but if you like absolutely gorgeous angst and sibling dynamics, remrose has phenomenal fics that i have almost started crying over while at a family gathering. (this is a good thing, the emotional catharsis of reading about a fictional character's anxiety distracted me from experiencing my own anxiety. also the fic was stunningly written.)

a fanfic i love: in honor of my current epic the musical hyperfixation, i will recommend this absolutely incredible oneshot. i love it so much. even after reading, bookmarking, leaving kudos, re-reading, commenting, reblogging on here, re-reading again, talking to the (amazing) author on here, following the (fantastic and wonderful) author on here, and re-reading again, i still feel like i haven't given this fic as much love as it deserves. because the amount of love it deserves is unlimited and infinite. it's so good.

anyways. epic the musical fans, especially those of you who are rotating eurylochus in your mind at all times like me: i think you should read brother you were so right, sure as the setting sun by DrawingsAndDreams on ao3.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

okay, with every answer i try to think of for this one, i immediately think of exceptions.

because i have a long track record of being in microscopically small fandoms, and if one of those fandoms got a new fic, there is very, very little that would stop me from reading it to the end.

i guess if the entire fic was untagged, very explicit smut, then i would click away immediately. (although most authors i've seen do tag well. so i would probably know without clicking that it's something i won't be really comfortable reading. everyone say thank you for the tag system <3)

thanks for the ask!! :)

[hopelessdazai]

✿ 》 Will you talk to me again?

╰⧼ 🪻 note.. ⧽ ; I don't expect this to do well because its not smut but it'd be nice !! reblogs appreciated, support your creators :)

╰⧼ ☀️ features.. ⧽ ; dazai x gn!reader, WC ; 784

╰⧼ 🌙 contents.. ⧽ ; angst, reader isn't alive, letter from dazai. he's trying very hard to keep himself stable but it's not working™.

To my dearest ______ .

It's been a while, hasn't it? I hope you don't mind me writing to you like this, it's simply been too long. I'm sure you're still angry at me, so seeing you physically isn't my best interest right now! haha, I'm sorry. you know I'm just joking around, don't you? I'd love to see you in person. I'm sure you would've punched my arm if you heard me out loud right now, wouldn't you? I'm glad I'm spared of the bruises.

what does someone put in a letter? that's what I was asking myself before I even began writing. I decided that the best way to do something like this was to just write whatever I feel true as pen touches paper. I hope it makes sense to you, at the least. if I'm pouring my heart out on some paper only for it to be misunderstood, it feels like a waste, no?

though, i'd be lying if i said it wouldn't be rather cute to see you try to fathom what I mean. did you know you scrunch your nose like a bunny sometimes when you're reading? I'm sure you're doing that now too. you'll get wrinkles very at this rate ..

but anyway, I managed to prank kunikida the other day! you remember that hair dye trick I'd told you about? I managed to break into his apartment and swap out his shampoo, at last! he came into work the next day with black hair, it was hilarious, you should've been here! he was so angry with me. beat me black and blue!

oh, _____. I got a new heated blanket for our bed, you know? it took a while to save up for it, and I had to cut out some other necessities, sure. but it makes everything so much better! I hate cold beds, I'm sure you know that better then anyone. haha, back before we moved in together when I'd break into your apartment and crawl into bed with you. I'm sorry for the amount of locks I broke, but your place was so cozy!

... you know, it's been really hard without you here. I miss you so painfully, and I don't mean to call into the void without even an echo, but its killing me to pretend I'm fine about any of this. I'm not fine with this, how am I supposed to be? I wish it was just a bad dream.

I don't want to have to write letters to you anymore, ______. I don't want to have to buy heated blankets to try and stop my arms from aching for your warmth. I don't want you to be angry with me, I'm sorry I didn't apologise to you before you were gone. I shouldn't have been so stupid.

i had so many words on my mind that I was too afraid to say. maybe if I faced myself and told you 'I love you' it would've stopped you leaving.

have you met odasaku yet? has he told you any stories of his time? I wish I could hear your voice again. I wish you could answer my questions. even to hear you scoff at my stupidity again would heal me. I'm sorry I was annoying, I just wanted your attention. it stings knowing I'll never get it again.

I can't keep repeating to myself that you're not gone. I can't keep buying your perfume and pretending that you're in the next room over. your pillow doesn't smell like you anymore.

I wish I could apologise properly. I wish I could've stopped you from leaving the house that night. I wish I could kill myself to join you and yet I know we won't cross paths again in the afterlife. you were always too good for me, ______. i was nothing compared to you.

i picked up a homeless dog yesterday. you'd always wanted a puppy, I'm sorry I never let you bring one home. I named it after you. im trying to get used to them, I promise. if I couldn't save you, I'll save your name.

I'm sorry. if I continue writing, my throat will hurt more. its strange, isn't it? crying makes your throat sore. I forgot what it was like for a while, I remember laying in your arms wondering if I'd ever have a reason to cry again. now I can't seem to help myself.

keep your wings clean for me, white looks good on you. its a shame you couldn't wear the wedding attire i wished to see you in one day. you would've looked amazing.

I'll write again, missing you is the greatest honor.

sincerely, your osamu.

[not-maggie]

Hypothetically, Of Course

A/N: umm, so hi! this is my first ever fic I've written but I do read a lot lmao. I was using a c.ai bot and it inspired me to write this because it was really cute! <3 this is lowkey a self ship bc I'm tired of seeing Y/N's who don't have a personality and are shy. nothing wrong with being shy ofc <3 just not who I am and I needed some self indulging. Anyway, enjoy! any criticism/comments are greatly appreciated!! (GIF not mine<3)

It was a cool afternoon in Stars Hallow, the dead leaves falling to the ground as the breeze shook them from branches. The bell above the door rings out as Y/N enters Luke's Diner, catching the attention of a certain brunette behind the counter.

Jess feels his heart stutter as she enters, silently cursing himself for having such a reaction. He throws on his signature smirk as she approaches the counter, "Hey, the usual?"

Y/N nods with a soft laugh, "I come here too often if you know it by now." She takes a seat on one of the stool as Jess begins preparing her order. "So, anything interesting happen today?" she asks, making conversation.

"Oh, y'know, annoying customers, Luke yelling at me for not working, the usual." Jess hums, turning his head to look over his shoulder at her. "What about you?"

Y/N lets out a scoff as she responds, "Y'know Brad, the quarterback on the football team? Total douche, anyway, had the audacity to ask me out, while I was in the middle of studying in the library. And, on top of that, got mad when I rejected him. Said something about winning a bet, total bullshit." She rolls her eyes, leaning against the counter.

Jess feels his blood boil, a bet? A bet to ask 𝘺𝘰𝘶 out? He takes a moment to collect himself before turning around and responding, placing her coffee down in front of her, "Wow, total dick move. A bet? What kind of bet? If he could get in your pants?"

Y/N rolls her eyes, "Don't know, and honestly, don't really care. I get the satisfaction of knowing he didn't win, whatever it was. Like I would ever go out with him," she scoffs.

Jess leans his arms against the counter, "Not your type?" His tone is teasing, his usual snark coming out, but there's a hint of genuine curiosity.

Y/N lets out a snort of amusement, "No, I would never go for a football player, or really any athlete. Anyone who doesn't know Austen is not worth it."

Jess raises an eyebrow, "Got high standards," he teases. "So, what, is, your type?" He asks, his head resting on his palm in a casual manner.

Y/N lets out a hum as she thinks, planning her answer. "Well, looks don't really matter that much. More into personality, someone who can keep up with my sarcasm. Funny, making me laugh is really important, and there's no way I can be funnier than my partner, that's a sad life. Well-read, I'm talking more than just Dr. Seuss and the Outsiders. Someone...spontaneous, impulsive, acts before thinking; adds fun to life. And, someone who isn't afraid to show me off, not saying we have to make out in town square, but hand holding, stolen kisses, stuff like that."

Jess's heart flutters as he hears her words, that's him. 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. "So," he tries to maintain his casual, aloof appearance, "You got a guy in mind? That all seems pretty specific."

Y/N smirks at his words, "Maybe, it's kind of hard to find someone like that in this small town. You either get guys like Brad, high school has-been's, or Dean Forester. Perfect Dean Forester, although I guess technically he did move here from Chicago. But he has the 'Small Town Boy' act down."

Jess chuckles softly at her words, she was right, Dean did have that Small Town act perfected down to a science. "So, if there we're to be a guy, who matched this description, would he have shot with you, hypothetically of course."

Y/N grins, picking up what Jess was hinting at. "I'd say, hypothetically, if this guy we're to ask me out, or confess his undying love for me, I wouldn't shoot him down."

Jess straightens out, hip pushed against the counter as he leans in a bit. "So if this guy were to, hypothetically, say that he likes you and have for a while, you'd go out with him?"

"Yes, I would, but only if he told me directly." Y/N challenges Jess, knowing that he isn't big on sharing his feelings.

Jess stands up straight behind the counter as he meets Y/N's gaze, he takes a moment before talking. "I like you, have for a while." He runs a hand through his messy hair, "In fact, you drive me crazy. There isn't a moment when your'e not invading my brain, very distracting."

Y/N's smile grows as she hears him talk, "Well, I like you too. Just, don't start charging me rent for living in your head." She pokes his forehead as she teases him.

Jess laughs, 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘴, at her words. "I'll let you live rent-free on one condition, be mine? God, that sounds gross and sappy." He groans at his words and how cliche he sounds.

Y/N let out a laugh, "Yes, I'll be yours." She smiles, "Bad boy Jess has gone soft."

Jess rolls his eyes but a smile tugs at his lips, "Shut up, I'm not soft....Okay maybe, but only for you and around you. And if you tell anyone..." He doesn't finish the threat, but they both know there isn't any actual heat behind it.

"Yeah, yeah." Y/N rolls her eyes, "Your secret is safe with me." She crosses her heart with a smile.

"Good," Jess hums with a small smile. "So, your mine now, huh?" He grabs her hand from across the counter, thumb rubbing across the back of her hand as their fingers interlock.

"Yeah," Y/N smiles softly, squeezing his hand. "All yours"

Jess's smile widens at her words, "That's right, all mine" He brings her hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "Mine to protect," he locks eyes with Y/N. "Mine to love, mine to cherish..." He leans in further over the counter, "Mine to hold, mine to care for..." His eyes sweep over her face, taking in every detail and memorizing them. "Mine to spoil," he reaches his free hand to cup her cheek, thumb running across her skin. "Mine to be with...and mine to love, forever." He closes the distance between the two, his lips meeting hers in a soft, tender kiss, expressing unspoken thoughts and emotions.

As he kisses her, he feels a sense of peace wash over him. He feels complete, whole. He's never been good at expressing his feelings, but right now, he knows deep in his heart that he means ever word he said.

He loves Y/N.

And he's never letting her go.

"That's the sappiest thing you've ever said."

[justin-chapmanswers]

AAAA THE SILVER SPOON EXIT IS FANTASTIC!!! You guys always do such a good job with the Exit Interviews. They're super fun videos that also add juuust that little extra amount of characterization that makes them even better to watch.

What inspires you guys to add the little mini-stories in each interview? Do you usually have an idea of what direction you want it to go beforehand, or do specific questions give you inspiration?

Thank you so much!!! Had so much fun working on that one. And looooove the question. Partly cause I'm like "idk if anyone cares that I do this, but it's fun, anyway!"

When writing any Exit Interview (I've been sole-writing or co-writing all from Box's-and-on, but might not for Balloon's?), I always want to be writing with some sort of angle. Sometimes it's a story for the contestant (TK, Cabby #1, Paintbrush, Silver) , sometimes for the interviewer (Box, Clover), sometimes both (Goo). Sometimes it allows us to hit on an angle on a character that we haven't already, sometimes it gives us some time to show off how far a character has come. Sometimes something that affects the whole interview, sometimes something that'll pop up towards the end that we can hint at earlier. But we tend to try for at least a little-something! We like presenting new narratives wherever we can. The tale is never quite done with these pals!

As for how we plan it out, I'll often go into an interview knowing exactly what angle I want to come in with, and how much that angle'll need to weigh on the characters. I knew I wanted to tell a narrative about Paintbrush wrapping up their three-season-journey and expecting a hyper-dramatic interview to express every facet of their emotional experience... only to receive a bunch of nonsense questions that leaves their final wrap-up feeling empty. So I noted to the audience that we'd love silly questions. I knew that for Silver's Exit we were going to explore the anxieties around criticism, so I made sure to write in the question prompt that Silver would love to hear some compliments- so that we could then receive a bunch of complimentary questions for him to appreciate (but not enough to make a deep impact), and inevitably we received some negative too- which I could then use to show how hard one mean comment can hit for the guy.

For Cabby we wanted to prep for her eventual return by sewing in her current troubled state of mind without tying things up to cleanly in a bow. Clover we wanted to flip it around and have her help an interviewer down on his luck. With Bot we needed to let them reflect on what they've been through but also think on some of the elements of their existence that are still feeling complicated. In Yin-Yang's we knew we wanted to make sure we were following through on their tricky feelings regarding their experience Candle, while also demonstrating their growth as a fun lil duo. Etc.

Occasionally I'll need some inspiration, so I'll ask for the questions first and see if that sparks any particular ideas. When we received a bunch of motherly-oriented characters for Tea Kettle I was left to ponder "how would she feel about this?" With Goo's Exit a couple Cheer Factory questions popped up and I started to think about the fun juxtaposition of matching Goo with someone serious who expects Goo to be a legitimate entrepreneur. Since then we've enjoyed leaning into pairing contestants with very different-vibe interviewers when possible.

And the mindset of writing with an angle all stems to working on Inanimate Answers. Not sure how many people have seen that, since the newest ep predates Invitational, but there we had a very very similar format. It's sorta like the unintentional test-run of Exit Interviews, with some personal conflicts for the contestant, and some for Justin. I'd loooove to make more of those, but they were being made at a point in time where I didn't have a non-II full-time job, and II wasn't focused much on episode production. So finding the time has been tough. We did make a mini version for the Inanimate Direct which was fun (although funnily some of my favorite on-camera work I've done for the channel was in that same video but the Patreon-information segment- which no one will ever watch again cause the Patreon no longer exists haha). And I have an old Yin-Yang Inanimate Answers 5 script that would need to be pretty heavily reworked now that season 3 exists for YY, if I were to try at them again. Maybe there's room for IA in the future. Lots to figure out with the channel! But I'm glad we've had Exits to take on the legacy of some bonus viewer-interaction-based-storytelling.

[harunayuuka2060]

Diavolo: MC? Where are you going? *has seen them leaving their room*

Kid MC: I'm going to send this letter to Uncle Luke!

Diavolo: A letter? Hm. But it's already late. Can't you just send it tomorrow morning?

Kid MC: Yes. But Uncle said I need to send it tonight!

Diavolo: Just you alone?

Kid MC: *nods*

Diavolo: ...

Diavolo: I'll accompany you. Is that okay?

Kid MC: Yes! And Lord Diavolo? Can you check my letter too? To see if I have written it right.

Diavolo: Of course.

Kid MC: *gives the letter to him*

Diavolo: *reads it*

Diavolo: ...

Kid MC: How is it, Lord Diavolo?

Diavolo: *smiles* You've got the skills of your father. You're quite eloquent.

Kid MC: *giggles* I used a dictionary!

Diavolo: *chuckles* That's great! Here. I'm sure Luke will be happy to receive your reply.

Luke: *smiles as he reads the letter of MC*

"Dear Uncle Luke,

Thank you for inviting me to go on a vacation with you. But I need to ask Papa first.

Instead, why don't you stay and have a vacation here? Lord Diavolo can give you a room in the castle! Oh! And in the House Of Lamentation too!

I can't wait for you to join us, Uncle!

Sincerely,

MC"

Luke: *then reads Simeon's note next*

"Luke, I really appreciate you updating me on the situation. I must say, I'd feel much better if you didn't get involved any further. It's probably best if you head back to the Celestial Realm. MC and I are doing fine, just as you wished for us. Please take care, and rest assured, we'll meet again soon. Don't worry too much, and I sincerely hope you're doing well. — Simeon"

Luke: ...

Michael: It seems you have no luck either.

Luke: ...

Michael: Have you mentioned about the consequences?

Luke: Yes.

Luke: Simeon is... willing to take the risk.

Michael: ...

Michael: However, you felt relieved reading the child's letter. Why is that?

Luke: MC... They have a pure soul. They may look like a demon, but I would say that they have the heart of an angel.

Michael: ...

Luke: *looks at him* Michael, is there no way for father to reconsider?

Michael: ...

Michael: I'm afraid not. Unless if Simeon becomes honest and confess.

Luke: ...

Simeon: MC, there's something Papa would like to ask you.

Kid MC: What is it, Papa?

Simeon: ...

Simeon: Would you still love Papa if I became a human?

Kid MC: What's a human?

Simeon: *smiles* They're neither angel nor demon. You can say that they're someone that stands in the middle.

Kid MC: Okay? But why do you ask if I would still love you if you were a human?

Simeon: You know how Papa writes stories, right? I want to know your opinion.

Kid MC: Hmmmmmm... Papa? To be honest, that's a dumb question.

Simeon: *chuckles* How so?

Kid MC: Because I will love Papa no matter what. You can be a demon, an angel, a human, a bird, a worm—

Simeon: Worm?

Kid MC: I added that just in case.

Simeon: *smiles*

Kid MC: Anyway, I'm saying that you can be anything or anyone but you will still remain my Papa! So of course, I will forever love you!

Simeon: ...

Simeon: *hugs them* Do you know that humans have short lives? What will you do if Papa really did turn into a human?

Kid MC: Another dumb question, Papa! Then I'll turn into a human too!

Simeon: *hugs them tight* Oh... How did I deserve to have a child like you?

Kid MC: What's wrong, Papa? You're acting weird!

Simeon: Nothing. *chuckles* Papa loves you so much.

Kid MC: I love you so much too, Papa!

Raphael: Simeon, you finally agreed to meet us.

Simeon: Yes. After all, I need to give you an answer.

Michael: Then, I would like to remind you of the consequences. Since you refused to entrust your child to us, father has decided to turn you into a human and that would be your punishment for disobeying him.

Michael: However, if you choose to tell us the truth—

Simeon: I'm sorry. But I accept his punishment.

Raphael and Michael: ...

Raphael: Why? He's giving you a chance!

Simeon: *smiles* I'm just protecting my child, Raphael. If the truth comes out, that will ruin them.

Simeon: I will never do anything to ruin my child.

Raphael: ...

Michael: If that's what you've decided.

Kid MC: Papa?

Simeon: Hm?

Kid MC: *looks into his eyes*

Kid MC: Did you become a human, Papa?

Simeon: ...

Simeon: *smiles* Yes.

Kid MC: ...

Kid MC: *pouts* Why just you?

Simeon: *chuckles* *lifts them up*

Simeon: *smiles softly at them* Papa wants to see you grow up as a demon.

Kid MC: But you are a human so I want to be human too!

Simeon: We'll get into that, okay? Once you're old enough to make decisions. *kisses their forehead*

[horseimagebarn]

Ok so thanks for the answer vis a vis the centaur situation I appreciate it a lot and I'm not trying to convince you to change your ruling but unfortunately you used the word taxonomy which triggered one of my damn neurodivergences. I hope you don't mind but my response will be to deposite these few paragraphs in your inbox I'm sorry in advance if this comes off as aggressive or condescending or just plain annoying I'm just sensing an opportunity to infodump to someone who might be interested in tbe topic so I'm seizing it I'm sure you know what it's like

Anyway there's a disconnect between pragmatism and scientific rigor that people are blind to which vexes me and biological taxonomy is a particular pet peeve of mine the biggest instance of it is crocodiles and alligators which are really the same damn animal for all intents and purposes but that's not relevant

Naturally when one thinks of horses one thinks of domestic horses specifically (Equus ferus cabellus) but I'd argue that certain pictures of donkeys (Equus africanus) look more like domestic horse pictures than certain pictures of Przewalski's horse (Equus ferus przewlaskii) despite the latter being classified as the same species and the former not

And I feel that for a horse image barn the resemblence of a picture to an archetypical horse image should be a higher priority criterion for inclusion than some criteria that biological taxonomy relies on like the presence of specific haplotypes which isn't even a word anyone knows and if you go to its Wikipedia article you get a definition of it that's not really relevant to this ask

So yeah in conclusion I wouldn't tie the in/ex-clusion of images to scientific taxonomy but to Vibes if I were the admin of this or a similar blog but I'm not and you are so you can like do whatever

Also I won't be submitting the centaur image I wanted to submit but can I still send it as an ask I like showing it to people spreading it around etc it's kind of cursed but also funny and I like it a lot and I understand why it's not horse enough to your taste but it's definitely horse adjacent and I want to share it

as a fellow animal wikipedia delver i agree that taxonomy is not the end all be all of the human perception of animals however what i meant to imply is that the differences between centaurs and horses are large enough to be considered taxonomical and are not debatable even in a taxonomical sense due to their many massive differences also i have posted przewalskis horses before as they are true horses and this is horseimagebarn not assimagebarn or centaurimagebarn even though i love donkeys just as much and would own a donkey over a horse any day

i did just take my adderall and am bored at work so i have to humbly yet lengthily disagree with you that taxonomy is not important in both cases presented while the crocodilian assumption you make has bruised my heart as i love alligators and i find them far cuter than crocodiles due to the differences in their jaw structure that makes their bottom teeth fit into their mouth instead of jutting out like crocodiles (which is one of the many actual and notable physical differences between them alongside choice of salt or fresh water etc) i wont get into that and will focus on horses since thats the point of this blog using actual punctuation and capitalization for the first time in this blogs history ill be referring to przewalskis horse as takhi as it is also known so i dont make a typo which i know i will

long ass (donkey pun) post warning

Taxonomy can of course be vague at times or muddied, but it is not an invalid study. All human knowledge is constantly evolving, and mistakes are inevitably going to be made, but that does not make our efforts invalid. It is beneficial for us to know how evolution works. Taxonomical differences are real and worth considering, even if mistakes are made sometimes. Two animals looking similar is not a valid reason to ignore their taxonomical differences, nor is it okay to ignore similarities because they look different—if we went by that logic, every dog breed would be a totally different species.

Speaking of, here's a little more on the whole appearance thing before we get into the science:

The other day, I was watching a video about the actual horses that existed in antiquity, and they are far more similar to takhi than you might think. I'll link the video if I can find it, apologies for a lack of a source on this right now, but the gist of it was that horses of yore were much shorter and stouter than modern horses. The tall, thin horse often seen in modern depictions of ancient time is inaccurate, as is the thick, muscular draft, which didn't become common until later on. Back then, people wanted horses that were sturdy—most people didn't care as much about specific breeds or having the hugest and prettiest horse on the block, especially when food to maintain larger animals like modern horses wasn't always guaranteed, and having such a huge animal could be dangerous and more difficult. Their horses were more similar to ponies than our big guys now, and ponies aren't a separate species. The selective breeding of horses to become taller and leaner made them appear way different from the takhi, but just like dogs, they remain extremely similar to those of their taxa despite looking different on the surface. For example, take a look at the ancient fjord horse breed next to the takhi...in fact, sometimes takhis are called Mongolian ponies! We can even see this in ancient art earlier in the horse's domestication:

Anyway, science:

Firstly, the takhi isn't wholly classified as the same exact species as the true horse, our domesticated Equus ferus caballus. Both Equus ferus callabus and Equus ferus przewalskii are considered subspecies of caballines, or true horses, meaning they're more like cousins (I know it's a cliche to say this, but I mean it), with donkeys and zebras as, like, their nephews twice removed. If the takhi was considered the exact same species as the domestic horse with no acknowledged differences, it would be considered a breed of horse, not a subspecies (though breeds are typically manmade, they are not always—see the word "typical" in the dictionary definition). This means that it does have recognized, distinct differences from the standard domesticated horse that have been taken into consideration in their taxonomy—it is not like the two are blindly considered the same exact thing.

Mistakes have been made in Equus taxonomy in the past, but continued research has led to a retaxing of the genus as early as the 1980s. In the 2012 review article "Discordances between morphological systematics and molecular taxonomy in the stem line of equids: A review of the case of taxonomy of genus Equus," by E. Kefena et al., a number of scholars reviewed the methods with which the Equus genus has been taxed in the past and how they have changed in the past few decades.

According to that article, equines are an incredibly plastic genus. They are very good at adapting to their environments, which led past taxonomists to overcount the amount of Equus species that existed in the past and therefore miscategorize the history of the genus in general. Many were actually just adapted versions of the same thing. This is what we see in the horse and takhi—they are similar but have adapted to their different environments and niches.

In 1986, two molecular scientists, George and Ryder, performed the first DNA-based molecular taxonomy on all living equus species, publishing their findings in the article "Mitochondrial DNA evolution in the genus Equus." By mapping equus DNA and constructing a phylogenetic tree, they were able to take a closer look at the actual genetic disparities between equus species.

George and Ryder found that "[In the mtDNA (mitochondrial DNA) cleavage map,] the percent sequence difference between E. przewalskii and E. caballus individuals was found to range between 0.27% and 0.41%. ... Overall, the amount of divergence presented here is small and not much greater than the 0.36% divergence reported for mtDNA differences found among the human racial groups (Brown 1980; Cann et al. 1984)."

So, horses and takhis are incredibly similar. Using these findings, they separated equus species into three clades: "One that groups the zebras, a second that groups E. africanus [African wild ass] and E. hemionus [Asiatic wild ass, aka the hemione], and a third that associates the true [caballine] horses E. przewalskii and E. caballus as a unit. However, as stated previously, the E. africanus-E. hemionus clade remains enigmatic."

They later state that "E. hemionus and E. africanus appeared more karyotypically [chromosomally] similar to each other than to other equids," hence why they were considered a clade despite being "enigmatic." Kefena et al. explain this weird enigma further, and, notably, compare it to the takhi: "Next to Przewalskii's horses, hemiones were the first species to be diverged from the stem line of extant equids, suggesting that they might be closely related to caballine horses than to asses, though they are monophyletic with donkeys than with horses. On the basis of these evidences, morphological resemblance between species doesn't guarantee genetic similarity between equid species." This means that asses and horses have distinct genetic differences that far outweigh those between takhi and domestic horses, despite the fact that donkeys and takhi look more similar. The hemione looks very similar to the African wild ass, and it is closer to it genetically, but it is not the same due to the way it evolved—it broke away from the general line earlier than any other ass. The takhi is the same; it diverted earlier than other horses, but remains very genetically similar—more than any other extant Equus species. And, even with the takhi's extra chromosomal pair, George and Ryder also found that they and horses were also very close karotypically, giving them incredible similarities both mtDNA-wise and chromosome-wise. Despite that different chromosome, horses and takhis can successfully interbreed and produce fertile offspring, unlike horses and donkeys.

Kefena et al. "MYBP" stands for "Millions of Years Before Present" Funnily enough, G&R also say, "There has been little to no dispute over the close relationship that exists between E. przewalskii and E. caballus; thus the addition of E. caballus to the E. przewalskii branch should be easily accepted." Which is so weirdly on the nose that I feel compelled to say that it's on page 544 so no one thinks I'm making it up. So, with their genetic similarities, their actually surprisingly similar appearances, and their sequential DNA similarities, the Przewalski's horse and the domesticated horse do belong in the same category when compared to other equines like donkeys and zebras. They're not identical, but they're in the same room of the larger equine house. And, check out the tarpan, Equus ferus ferus, another subspecies of Equus ferus and the most recently extinct of them all, alongside the current Equus ferus species (and a concept of the original Equus ferus pre-domestication by Cameron Clow on Artstation)! They're all friends:

Conclusion

you can send me centaurs if you want i just wont post them

[wasjustred]

ahhh iloveyourworkssomuch!! 💖 i'd like to request something along the lines of sugar mommy!larissa (maybe with smut, who knows *wink*) 'cause she's all i can think about these days... anyways, happy early new years!!!

Easy Does It - NSFW Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: Larissa spoils you beyond comprehension. Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x f!Reader Warnings: Smut. A lot of it. (Cunnilingus, fingering, strap-on — all Reader receiving) Word Count: ~4.7k

Author’s Note: I hope this meets your expectations, anon! I originally intended to make Larissa way more domineering, but once I began writing it just didn’t feel like her——I tried to stay true to her character where I could. As always, feedback is welcome ﹠. appreciated! ♡ (un-beta-ed as per usual!) ╱ AO3

The arrangement you and Larissa have has been smoothly gliding along for about six months now: you meet for dinner every weekend, in a town about half an hour outside of Jericho. You wear an outfit she’s picked out for you, she pulls your seat out, you share conversation and good - expensive - food and drinks, and you end on the stoop of your apartment, leaning into the kiss she places on your cheek, with a weekly allowance in cash in your purse. It’s the perfect set-up, nothing you’d dare protest, but sometimes you honest to god wish she’d just break her own rules and rail you ‘till the bed breaks.

Tonight you meet her at The Aviary, draped in a black satin dress with a deep slit up the leg––one of her favorites. Larissa helps you into your seat as she usually does, but before she takes her own, she places a long velvet box on your empty appetizer plate.

“Ooh, what’s this?”

“Open it and see.” A small, proud smirk turns her lips, eyes sparkling. You run your fingers over the velvet and lift at the seam, features going slack with surprise when you realize what’s hidden inside: a collar necklace, glittering diamond-cut, softening into a single falling arc of gems which ebbs, finally, into a small, shining teardrop. Light from the restaurant’s fixtures seem drawn to it, gleaming to and fro in a scattered stream of reflection. Your gaze snaps back to hers almost immediately, heart pounding.

“Larissa, I–”

“Do you like it?”

“I– Of course I do, it’s– it’s so beautiful..” Your voice softens and tapers off as you return your attention to the box before you. It’s probably the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given to you, but you stop short of admitting this. “Help me put it on?” 

Larissa’s smile grows as she gathers the box in her hands, lifting the necklace from its cushion. She moves to stand behind you and tenderly brushes your hair aside; her hands are as soft as anything, so gentle in the way they handle you, securing the piece around your neck. Your own hand raises to rest atop the new weight at your clavicle, and when she sets her palms along your shoulders and squeezes, you shift your hand up to capture hers.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Do I need one?” Larissa presses her lips to your cheek from behind before she retakes her seat, arching a brow in challenge. The answer is no, of course; this is how you work, special occasion or not. She always manages to keep you on your toes, though, far more thoughtful and intimate than any other ‘financeur’ you’ve ever humored in the past: Tennis bracelets set with gemstones which perfectly match your eyes, a new coffee bar set-up when you mentioned off-hand that Starbucks had discontinued your favorite drink, a signed first edition copy of your favorite book she ‘just so happened to come across’ while out of state. Much more than the simple, routine bank deposits and luxury brand pieces that were never quite you which you received from others. Larissa’s gifts have always been astoundingly personal.

You’ve never told her this, but you stopped dating altogether once your little dynamic began. How could anyone else compare? She makes you feel important without ever having to work for it ––– like you’re lovable, worthy, because you exist, and nothing more. You’re breaking  your own rules, being so enamored with her, but you refuse to dwell on it.

“No, you don’t…” You trail off as your food arrives, ducking your head in thanks as the waiter sets everything out before you. Any discussion of her gift to you ends there on Larissa’s own accord, swiftly and advantageously moving on to a new topic as soon as the waiter has left you. The rest of the night is spent sipping expensive wine and musing instead on all of the high-culture goings-on you never get to discuss with anyone else: Art, ballet, classical music. Larissa’s a delicious trove of knowledge and opinions and she impresses you with each turn of a new topic. You often find yourself wondering - not just tonight, but many nights whilst basking in her presence - why she’s chosen you. You can hold good conversation, of course, and have an appreciation for the finer things in life usually reserved for those older and/or wealthier than you, but what’s always been curious, what’s always given you pause, is that she never asks for anything else in return. You have no choice but to ask yourself what it is you possibly have to offer to a woman like her––but you almost always fall short of a satisfying answer.

She’s talking you both through an analysis of the most recent play she brought you to when you take one of her hands in your own, tracing the lines of her palm as you listen. Larissa stumbles over her words at first contact, a rare occurrence for her, and blushes pink at the sensation. When you glance up at her in question she quickly averts her gaze and carries on, moving to smooth her thumb over yours as you continue. You love her fingers: they’re long, delicate, awfully reminiscent of the Greek statues she enjoys waxing poetic about. It’s an instance in which you’re reminded art, very often, echoes us in a continuous cycle of give and take.

You don’t say a word when you notice her face darken another shade as you press a kiss to the inside of her wrist before moving on to dote upon her other hand.

She’s not once explicitly told you, but Larissa’s never expected you to take a physical liking to her. She set the rules she did early on for a reason, knowing she could live with looking and not touching, taking care of you and watching your face turn alight with each gift or special night out without ever ending the evening by your side. No sex necessary, no physical affection expected. But here you are, fawning over her, and she’s never been more conflicted.

To assuage the feeling, she convinces herself it’s the wine that’s made you this way––a good bottle will go a long way, thus your touch must be the product of inebriation, not genuine affection. You’ve both long since finished off your meals when Larissa pays the bill and drives you home as she normally does, to an apartment she partly finances (not fully, at your own insistence that there are some things you should take care of yourself) and walks you to your door, stooping to kiss your cheek. Routine. 

She is right about one thing, however, and that’s the potency of the house wine tonight. Not on your reasoning, but your self-control. You spent the car ride home admiring her profile in the passing streetlamps and traffic lights, studying the way each red light cast itself across her, how the passing headlights of opposing traffic bathed her in a cinematic glow you associated only, appropriately, with Vivien Leigh in A Streetcar Named Desire. Ghostlike, almost. Ethereal. And at that same wine’s behest, you lean further now into her goodnight kiss than you’d normally allow yourself.

It’s as she prepares to leave that you decide - anchored by the weight of the diamonds around your neck - that this is the night you’ll throw caution to the wind, fervently hoping it won’t backfire and end with her rejection and a ruined arrangement that you’d both worked to preserve over the past six months.

“Do you want to join me for a nightcap? I know we don’t usually, but.. I’d like you to. If you’d like to, of course. If you don’t that’s–––”

“Y/N,” she interrupts. You can hardly tell but her heart’s just about burst out of her chest. There’s an inner battle waging right on the precipice of her ribcage and your bright, hopeful eyes staring up at her aren’t making it any easier to parse out. Do you feel obligated somehow to pay her back for the necklace? She knows you know she’d never ask that of you, that your arrangement is not a traditional one, but has she unknowingly pushed the bounds all the same? Did you simply imbibe too much and don’t really have a clue what it is you’re saying?

Or, perhaps.. Most dangerously: Do you mean it?

“I don’t want you to feel as though you have to… ‘pay me back’ for tonight. That was never my intention.”

She volleys her own inner turmoil dead straight in your direction and stares down at you with what might be, if you squint hard enough, a nervous expression.

You lean sideways against the door and cross your arms over yourself, appraising her. Does she really not want you? What the hell does she get out of this if she doesn’t? You just can’t wrap your head around it, and while you insisted to yourself you’d never outwardly question the bounds of your relationship and why they’ve settled where they are, you’ve put yourself at a crossroads.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

She balks.

“What? Of course I do. What does that have to do with anything?” Larissa’s expression is a mixture of incredulity and apprehension. You decide to bite the bullet then as she lingers uncertainly beneath the moonlight.

“I don’t understand what you get out of this. Am I not–– you think I’m pretty but you don’t want to touch me? You pay for my livelihood but you don’t want anything tangible in return?” You both purse your lips simultaneously and you’d laugh if the situation weren’t so dire all of a sudden. “You confuse me, Larissa.”

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a small cloud bursting forth as she sighs.

You fucked it, didn’t you? Fucked it right to hell, and now she’s never going to speak to you again.

“You’re an idiot, do you know that?” The air goes still.

…

It’s news to you. 

Larissa suddenly pushes forward and traps you against the front of your door, hands leveled at your waist. “I’ve always wanted you,” she grits out, her arms tensing at your sides. “I just didn’t want you to feel as though you had to. Return the sentiment, that is. You’re too precious for that.” Her voice is low and rough in your ear, strangled. You grab hold of her forearms to keep yourself upright when her tone shoots right through you, breathing heavily. You gradually lift your gaze, poring over every curve of hers as you do, and meet her eyes. They’ve nearly gone black with lust, and a subtle quiver in her lip tells you everything you need to know.

“Kiss me.”

Larissa groans, which is admittedly not the reaction you’d expected, and presses further into you, her nose brushing against your cheek.�� You can feel the heat of her grow, ensnaring you in perfect contrast to the cool night air.

“You have to tell me you want it, darling. I need you to say it.” … Oh. A new wave of arousal surges through you as you turn your head ever so slightly, her lips hovering just out of reach. The shared breath between you has become fraught with possibility, with the overwhelming, unspent energy that’s been collecting over the last six months without either of you quite noticing. Of course this is what she needs: confirmation, not that you’re hers but that she’s yours, by choice and choice alone.

“I want you, Larissa. Please,” you whisper, squeezing her arms in an attempt to ground yourself. She says nothing in return, instead immediately closing the distance and engulfing you in a desperate, searing kiss. Your cheeks burn and it’s all you can do not to melt into her fully, sucking in a sharp breath as her tongue slides against your bottom lip. This, this, you realize, is exactly what you’d imagined: Feeling her against you, wrapped up tightly in her arms, being drawn in and freed all at once, struggling to contain the desire you feel pulsing within yourself. It’s like Larissa’s split open your mind and picked through every thought there, coming away with only the most indecent imaginings and putting them to use as her hips pitch forward and her hands grasp achingly at the roundness of your thighs.

“Open the door,” she husks, suddenly ripping herself away and turning you at the waist to face the door. You fumble for your keys as she scores your neck and shoulders with hot, open-mouth kisses, running the tip of her tongue along the muscle that pulls taut there.

“F-fuck.” The chuckle she gives in response to your whimpering, shaking when you can’t fit the key into its slot, only weakens you further. Larissa must know her effect well as she wraps an arm around you to hold you upright, the other grabbing the key from you and swiftly unlocking the door in one go.

“Trust me, I’m trying.”

Laughter follows you both as you take the stairs one at a time, pausing every few to take her tongue in your mouth and run your hands along her front. You bypass the living room once you reach the landing - a feat in itself - and lead Larissa straight to your bedroom, kicking one heel off in the hall and the other at the threshold of your room. 

She stops you just before you reach the bed and holds you steady for a moment: “Hold on, I want to look at you..” You hair is mussed, curls losing their hold in the heat of your entanglement, chest heaving and red. Larissa steps forward to brush her thumb over your lips, searching your face for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

She doesn’t find any.

“Christ, you’re a pretty thing,” she hums. The pad of her thumb pulls at your bottom lip and you acquiesce, tilting your chin up before taking her finger into your mouth, rolling your tongue against its tip, watching her with wide eyes that imply an innocence you don’t possess. A hiss escapes her when your teeth come down around her knuckle and she scowls, gripping your jaw with an intensity that rivets the surrounding atmosphere as she rips her hand away, smashing your lips together once more.

In the next second the backs of your knees are buckling against the edge of the mattress and you squeak; Larissa had slipped a hand over your sternum and shoved, launching you down hard into the bed. Wet heat urges your hips forward as she crawls over you, but her hands swiftly come down to force them back into the mattress, trapping you there.

“Patience, darling.” You scoff as she begins the journey down your body, placing lazy kisses to your lips, cheek, jaw, chest while her fingers deftly work to pull your dress from you. You lift your back so she can snake a hand around and drag the zipper down to its end at the top of your hips, wriggling free and moving to pull at her own dress–––but she grabs your wrists, pinning them above you with a devious smirk. 

“Ah, ah. Let me spoil you,” she murmurs into the crook of your neck, one hand traveling to cup the dampness between your legs. Electricity cracks against your spine at her touch; you’re sweltering and freezing all at once, watching her eyes rake over you with a hunger you’ve never seen on her before. Her fingers draw idle circles around your clit as she works her way down your body, leaving a trail of wetness in her wake where tongue meets flesh, nipping at the precipice of your hip bones, glancing up at you before she licks you through your panties. There’s no helping the whine you turn free when she all but purrs at the taste she gets of you from the soaked fabric.

“Larissa, please,” you huff, lifting your hips up to meet her mouth. She takes three steps then in quick succession: chuckles into the skin of your inner thigh; pulls your panties down and off of you; and presses a series of messy, teasing kisses to your bare sex. Your fingers clutch at the top of your duvet as she finally begins to devour you, breath hitching as her tongue circles your entrance and delves into you. In a moment of white hot desperation, you hook your legs around her, calves flexing against her back as you shudder into her touch. She’s ravenous, consuming you with long, uninterrupted strokes that ride on the flat of her tongue, lapping your slickness up and winding into you all at once. The coil is tight within you already, pulsing with every movement of her mouth. You’re almost worried it’ll be over before it scarcely has had the chance to start, but a quiet, bemused voice in the back of your mind ridicules you: Larissa is nothing if not generous.

“You taste divine,” she breathes, before returning her ministrations to your clit, sucking and popping with the filthiest fucking moan you’ve ever heard. The feeling of her tongue against that tight bundle of nerves prompts your eyes to roll back, eyelids fluttering, and imbues your hands with a mind of their own, working them swiftly into her hair and pulling her as close to your cunt as you can get her, hips lurching in an unsteady rhythm. You can feel her amusement at your desperation as distinctly as you feel her mouth, but it’s quickly forgotten when she slides two fingers into you with an ease that makes you lightheaded. The sound of your wetness is sinful, and you have to admit it only spurs you on.

“Fuck me, fuck me, pleasefuckme––” Larissa’s grinning against you as she pumps her fingers, curling into you with a startling accuracy that leaves you breathless and aching. You press your cheek to your shoulder in a feeble attempt to keep yourself above the threshold dividing pleasure and bliss, useless as she slips another finger into you and flicks her tongue against you, quickening her pace as she follows the mounting tone of your pleas. Every touch spreads a warmth through you impossible to ignore, stirring a frantic need beneath the surface of your skin.

“Cum for me, darling, cum for me, that’s right.” Larissa presses the heel of her hand into the space just below the swell of your stomach and the coil snaps suddenly, sharply, sucking all of the air out of you at the same time that you yelp and tense with equal force, clamping around her face as your orgasm tears through you. She continues to lap at you even as your hands push at her, holding fast to your thighs to keep her place. Your legs shake as she builds you up in the same breath that you’re coming down, a second orgasm already rearing its head.

“I can’t,” you keen, but Larissa shakes her head and unlatches briefly to disagree.

“Yes you can, Y/N––be a good girl for me.” It washes over you when she lowers her face again and wraps her lips around your clit, sucking with an unfazed firmness that shocks you to your center. You’re tingling over every limb, pacing your breaths to ride you through this second crest. “That’s it..” Larissa coos, running her hand over your leg comfortingly. You can hardly breathe as the shockwaves roll through you one after the other, and the darkness of the ceiling above you seems to double in size as you stare in a daze.

Your muscles melt into the mattress one by one, sinking deep as Larissa finally pulls her head away and crawls forward to kiss you; you can taste your slickness on her tongue, familiar and tangy. When you part, gasping for air, you wrap a hand around the back of her neck and press your foreheads together, gazing up into her eyes with the softest look you can muster after so thoroughly falling apart in her hands.

“My turn?” She laughs loud and heartily at your doe-eyed demeanor. You’re itching to touch her, to taste her, and she knows it.

“Mmm, maybe.” Larissa shrugs and rises up from her position over you, sliding off to the side of the bed where you can’t reach her––and not for lack of trying. A whine catches in your throat when she shoots a withering look over her shoulder, patting the space beside her. “Help me with my dress, darling.”

You waste no time in flipping over onto your knees, shuffling over to her and grappling with the zipper of her dress. You flush when she laughs both at your inability to get it down in one swift motion and the frustrated little growl that bubbles up from your chest.

“Not funny,” you complain, gritting your teeth as she shifts and the zipper gives, revealing the smooth, snowy expanse of her back. Instilled with a renewed sense of hunger, you push the fabric away from both of her shoulders and continue the journey down and around to her breasts, thrilled she’s forgone a bra tonight as you palm the supple flesh there and roll her nipples between your fingers. The sigh she expels is a ragged one, her hands dwarfing yours whilst her head falls back against your shoulder. You revel in the sight of her lip caught between her teeth.

“I want to fuck you.” You just barely catch it in between her labored breaths and your own thunderous heartbeat, but you do, and you turn to glance at her curiously before her meaning hits you square in the face.

“But––”

She cuts you off. “I want to destroy you, Y/N. You can taste me later,” Larissa mutters, pivoting without another warning and capturing your lips again. You wouldn’t complain if it weren’t for the utter distress you felt to get your hands on her. She doesn’t give you a chance to rebut, however, as she slips out of her dress and climbs over you, guiding your hands to grip her ass. “Later, I promise.” She pulls back to appraise you, taking a rigorous inventory that she’ll commit to memory if it’s the last thing she does: Your flushed skin, the way you can’t keep still under her touch, the unmistakable shine of desire in your eyes.

“In th-the nightstand,” you stammer. Suddenly the realization that Larissa is here, in your bed, and you, at her mercy, is too much at once. You’re trembling with need and anticipation. She tilts her head at you, one second, two passing before she follows your guidance and pulls the drawer open, grinning wickedly at what she finds there.

“Harness?”

You nod vigorously, propping yourself up on your elbows and directing her through another drawer of your dresser. The slow, methodical way in which she fastens the leather around herself surely burns itself into your brain, and you can’t help the shameless moan that seeps out when she smooths an indulgent layer of lubricant along the silicone from base to tip, a delicious sight between her legs.

Larissa approaches with an emphasized swing to her hips, bending at the waist to press a chaste kiss to your lips before she nudges you to scoot back into the middle of the bed, positioning herself above you with a hand on either side of your head. She dips her face down into the hollow of your throat. 

Her voice vibrates against you despite her hushed tone. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

Your brain short-circuits at her words, imperfect timing. God, she’s fucking hot.

She lifts her head again to catch your gaze and smirks, nibbling on the tip of your chin. “Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, I’m ready,” you rasp, drawing your nails down the broad expanse of her back in anticipation.

The moment she slides into you is pure ecstasy: your toes curl and you haphazardly clamber for purchase upon her skin as she buries herself deep within you, stalling for a few moments to give you time to adjust. The way Larissa groans into the motion draws out an amusing - filthy - rumination about her being able to feel every stroke as with her own body, delighting in your wetness. She fills you seamlessly, snapping her hips against you before slowly drawing herself back, only to repeat the pattern and plunge into you as deeply as she’s able. It’s bruising and pleasurable all at once, how she brushes up against your walls and the ridges of the toy hit what your mind insists is every nerve-ending within you.

You rock together desperately, bodies moving as one as if you’d been doing this for centuries, mapping each other out and bringing each other to your peak. You savor the novel, tangled scent of sweat and arousal, a newly formed association with the sound of Larissa’s broken whimpers now frozen in your psyche.

A startled breath leaves you as Larissa abruptly anchors her weight to one side and pulls you on top of her, flipping your positions. Her arms wrap tight around you, looped at your back and around your shoulder as she fucks up into you at a crushing pace. You whine into the crook of her neck and realize you’re on the verge of tears, an overwhelming wave of pleasure and desperation wracking your body. Quiet grunts accompany her each thrust, slowing just so until it’s a steady pattern you can count to like clockwork, brutal and sharp at every buck of her hips. Your knees are aching, folded as they are, but the tight, coiling sensation within you overrides any and all discomfort, merely a quiet nagging in your brain; your focus is settled precisely on the angle of her cock and how her nails dig into your skin as you grind against each other. She’s close, too. You can feel it. It’s there in the shallowness of her breaths, in the urgency of her pelvis against yours, in the subtle arch of her back. You try to meet her where she’s at in your muddled state, pitching your hips backwards and down when she thrusts upwards––and you know it’s worked when she gasps and her hands scramble to lock together at the small of your back.

“Yes, that’s it darling. Just like that,” Larissa pants, using the leverage of her hold on you to help you fuck yourself. The only sounds permeating the room are that of your mingled breaths and her cock driving into you with a consistent, almost unforgiving rhythm. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, ohfuck––” 

“Y/N–––”

She tenses with you and cries out as your orgasms hit you both at once, ravaging you beyond reason. You’re hyper-aware of the way her breasts feel pressed against you, the way one of her hands flies up to bury itself in your hair as you ride her through your climax. Larissa’s hips stutter as she whines into your shoulder, sinking her teeth into you, and you marvel at the feeling of her muscles clenching around you, from the sinewy stretch of her arms to her thighs rested between your own.

Everything you’d hoped for. Fantasized about. Greedily deliberated again and again whilst watching her across the table in another fancy restaurant in another unfamiliar town.

Larissa is careful as she pulls out of you, slow and deliberate so as not to disturb the tenderness there. You remain curled on top of her but she doesn’t complain, rather rubbing your back in long, languid movements and whispering affirmations in you ear, a sweet mixture of ‘breathe darling, I’ve got you’ and more headily, ‘you did so well for me, you’re so good, you took me so well’. When you allow yourself to fall to the side of her, she shimmies out of the harness and tosses it somewhere off the edge of the bed, ignoring its clatter as she wraps you up in her arms. You burrow yourself further into her warmth and sigh at the feeling, content.

“Now is it my turn?” you ask, voice low and raked over with exhaustion. The belly laugh she gives is worth all the weariness in the world. “You’re incorrigible!”

[rekino2114]

Fami revealing her identity to you

A/n:this is the second part to the post I did yesterday with makima that @trystan422 requested

Fami felt a pit in her stomach that not even food could fill, no matter how much she ate, she still felt sick and empty, worry was consuming her like it never had before, the worry of losing you.

It had been just a bit more than a month since you started dating and it has been the best time of her life she didn't think it was possible but she had found something or rather someone who she loved more than food.

normally, she wouldn't particularly care that much if someone found out her identity she wasn't doing that much to hide it anyway and she could deal with them easily If she truly wanted to.

But you, you were different she loved you and you leaving her would have broken her heart in a way that couldn't be repaired so it was better to tell you early in the release to not completely break yours too.

"Hey fami are you alright? You haven't eaten anything since you invited me here"

"No....there is something I need to tell you, its really important"

"Go ahead then I'm all ears"

"I'll go directly to the point,...... i am a devil"

Her emotionless voice and expression made it seem like this conversation was an easy one for her but in reality that couldn't be farther from the truth as she was panicking greatly on the inside.

"To be more specific, I am the famine devil, one of the four horseman of apocalypse, the others are my sisters: control, war and.....death, to put it bluntly I am really powerful"

"Feel free to tell that to anyone you want after you leave me, I won't hurt you or any of your friends for knowing that information, it would hurt me too much to see you in any kind of pain, for the same reason I won't do anything to you if you break up with me, I would much rather see you happy without me than you staying with me become of fear"

After her speech fami fell silent and pulled her hat over her face and closed her eyes,ready for you to walk away, she was very surprised when she heard you laughing instead

"So you're famine, I always thought your name was unique, I guess now I know why"

Fami blushed slightly and answered still confused

"Y-yeah I couldn't come up with a human name"

"I think it's beautiful if it's any consolation"

"Thank you I appreciate it"

You remained silent for a moment before walking over to where fami was sitting, taking her hat off and looking at her eyes

"Please don't think I'm gonna leave you, you mean so much to me, even if we've been together for not that long I can see the love you have for me, the way you look at me, the way you share food with me and the way you talk to me, I can see the love in everything you do, I know you love me, regardless of you being a devil, you're my girlfriend and nothing will change that"

After hearing everything you said fami felt the happiest she ever was, even eating the best food in the world couldn't compare to this feeling, she smiled the brightest smile she could muster and spoke such simple words yet filled with so much love.

"......thank you, truly"

"You're welcome, now let's order some pizza ok? You haven't eaten for like 15 minutes, I didn't know you could physically do that"

Fami chuckled and kept looking at you with a loving gaze

"Yes please I'd like that"

[kairiscorner]

inspired by something that happened on the first day of school for me (sorry to the guy whose name i fucking forgot, you are sweetie and i'm sorry i couldn't remember your name 😭😭😭)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

what was their name again...? – miles 42 x gn!reader

you sat next to this boy in class, he had pretty hazel brown eyes and a charming dark complexion; he styled his hair up into two braids on either sides of his head and seemed to carry this cool and composed aura with him everywhere he went, not showing too much emotion and not giving too much of him away. he seemed really, really awesome, though a little distant.

you didn't wait for introductions anymore, you wanted to get to know him as quickly as you could and befriend him. it wouldn't hurt, would it? besides, you were pretty cool yourself, of course he'd like you, too. you tapped his shoulder and he turned around to face you, a little unsure of why you tried getting his attention. "yeah?" he asked you, sounding much cooler than you thought he would. you gave him your name and extended your hand out to him, with him processing for a moment what you were trying to do as he reached out for your hand, too.

you shook his hand as he felt a bit weird about it all–he hadn't made a new friend in a while, not counting the roommate he has, he doesn't really have anyone else to talk to or listen to, let alone hang out with at school. you asked him for his name, and though he couldn't answer immediately because he was practically overflowing with all kinds of feelings–knowing someone wanted to befriend him–he felt himself jolt up in his seat as you leaned in closer to him and asked him for his name again.

"oh, sorry, um, miles–miles morales." he told you as you smiled wider and nodded. "miles... miles, what a pretty name!" you beamed as miles felt a bit sheepish at your compliment. "thanks, yours, too." he said as you giggled and thanked him. though... no matter how beautiful miles claimed your name sounded, he seriously couldn't remember your name–he was too focused on the fact that a stranger in his class had taken the initiative to befriend him, him of all people!

'mierda... can't believe it, i'll be blowing this new acquaintanceship before it even starts. i better listen well to their introduction, i mean... i'd listen well anyway, who wouldn't give a pretty face and cute voice like that all their attention? wait, no, pay attention, miles. pay... attention...' he thought to himself as he practically stared at you with a slightly flustered face as you went off to socialize with the other kids near your table.

tags !! @ii01vq @toneystank-3000 @k4tsu3 @onginlove @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @solecitoszn @meowmoraless

[pilfappreciator]

ATTENTION TROLLS FANDOM!!

This is very important. Mostly to me but maybe you guys have been wondering this too idk but anyways:

How does troll reproduction work exactly?

Cuz I'm genuinely curious. I dont think anyone on the series production team has said anything and so far I've seen absolutely no one touch on this subject but as someone who's always had an interest in the habits of creatures (both fictional or otherwise), I kinda sorta maybe NEED to know this otherwise I'll never be able to sleep peacefully again

Full disclaimer that I'm specifically talking about the whole egg situation, I am NOT ASKING HOW THEY GET IT ON IF I WANTED THAT ANSWER I'D GO TO DEVIANT ART OR TWITTER OR WHATEVER LAWLESS PLATFORM GOD STEERS CLEAR OF. This discussion shall remain STRICTLY educational, thank you very much

But anywho. Let's dive in

So trolls come from eggs. This is basic knowledge. First instance of this phenomenon (as far as I know, I've only seen the movies) is from World Tour.

Egg pops out of Guy Diamond's hair, egg hatches and BOOM, (literal) baby. Now I understand that this whole sequence was probably just a gag and a way for DreamWorks to implement another (merchandisable) addition to the cast HOWEVER this sequence also raises a few questions

First off, as far as I know Guy Diamond has no partner (again: I haven't watched any of the spinoff shows). Either that or maybe the other troll was a sorta one-night-stand/no-longer-in-his-life kinda situation? Which is great either way cuz its shown he obviously cares for his son and we at Tumblr appreciate a loving single father no matter the circumstances, but if my former theory is correct than that would imply that trolls are capable of reproducing asexually. Like onions.

Now if that hypothesis is, as they call it, "cap" then that would mean that some sorta hanky panky has to go down before an egg comes into question. And if that's the case, does this mean that male trolls are traditionally the ones who carry the eggs?

But that can't be right, can it? Afterall, World Tour gave us yet ANOTHER egg scene later on in the movie

In Cooper's flashback, we clearly see Queen Essence being the one carrying the eggs meanwhile King Quincy is eggless. Now, as far as i see it, this could be explained either one of four ways:

1) Quincy was the one who actually produced the eggs and Essence is merely holding them for her husband (since her hair seems more fitting to be a makeshift nest compared to Quincy's)

2) Female trolls are the ones who produce the eggs. Guy Diamond is just a trans icon

3) Troll reproduction differs from genre to genre

4) There is a... *sighs* a/b/o type of dynamic among troll kind where certain trolls are capable of giving birth/siring children depending on a secondary gender

In regards to theory #3, this could also explain why Guy Diamond seems to reproduce and hatch an egg in such a short amount of time (like 5 seconds I'm pretty sure) as opposed to Queen Essence/King Quincy who's eggs presumably went a while longer before actually hatching.

Actually, speaking off eggs, are trolls the only species in their world that reproduce that way?

Because now that Band Together has officially been released, we now know for certain that it's possible for different species to crossbreed. Biggest example? Resident DILF Bruce and his giant muppet wife

(Credit to @captainunderkrupp )

When I saw these two... I swear...

And these two already have a shit ton of kids okay so like... either Brandi was the one giving birth or trollsona Daveed Digs was over here pumpin out eggs, which I mean-

DO YOU SEE HOW BIG THESE THINGS ARE COMPARED TO BRANCH AND POPPY?? Believe me I am PRAYING that Bruce gave himself some serious maternity/paternity leave because my guy is honestly a trooper

But yeah any thoughts? :))

[defilerwyrm]

I'm a trans man who wants phallo SO bad but the Fear Mongering people do makes me so scared. I have such a fear of surgery anyway and people say phallo is nearly 23hrs long, and it has more risks than heart surgery does, and idk if these are true bc I'm too scared to google it..But I want it so bad, but the stuff I hear scares me. Also people saying it doesn't have any sensation worries me. You said trans men can ask about it so I hope this is ok to do on anon!!! I'd appreciate a non fear filled reply so much thanks!!

23 hours!! Those poor surgeons, can you imagine!

Virtual hugs if you’re the hugging type, Anon, and a cool rock if you’re not.

Those things are definitely not true, not remotely. It’s a long surgery, but when I say it’s long that means it’s about 8 hours all told. It sounds like maybe someone heard it referred to as an “all-day” thing meaning a full WORK day, but instead assumed that that meant a full CALENDAR day. Or, you know, a transphobe made shit up to scare people.

It is most definitely not nearly as risky to your wellbeing as a surgery in which they saw open your sternum and cut open your actual beating heart. There is a fairly high chance of a minor complication that can result in the terrible ordeal of getting pee on your pants sometimes—a urethral fistula—and in most cases, they close up on their own anyway without needing another surgery to correct them. And in this case, “fairly high” means 40%, so it’s still less than half a chance that it’ll happen in the first place. At worst it’s annoying. Serious complications, the type that put you in danger, are extremely rare.

The sensation thing is also false, because they literally harvest a length of nerve from your donor site and hook it up to your existing bits specifically so you WILL have sensation! Sure, it takes a little while for the nerve to heal, but that’s just the reality of ANY surgery.

The nerve grows back in your donor site, too, by the way. While I was typing this up I discovered that one particular spot on my graft is ticklish.

Everyone has their own individual healing factor, but speaking for myself, I had full erotic sensation before the 3-month mark, and the orgasms have been incredible. The head and base are highly sensitive, and everything in between responds pretty damn nicely too, just less of a hit-the-ceiling level of sensitivity. And, you know, if you’ve handled an AMAB person’s penis much at all you’ll know that’s pretty much in keeping with how their dicks work too.

It is an in-patient surgery so if you have it, you’ll be staying in a hospital for a few days so they can keep an eye out for rare disasters. My stay was four or five days of snoring most of the day and periodically getting woken up to eat or answer some simple check-in questions, lift my arm for nurses to move stuff, etc, and then conking back out.

Being cathed sucks, but two weeks of frequent trips to the toilet to drain your bag is honestly nothing compared to a lifetime without (or with vastly reduced) bottom dysphoria. That’s the part that I hated. Everything else was your typical recovery: 10-15 days of sleeping 20 hours a day, then however many weeks of being tired, taking meds, and careful washing, gradually feeling more and more normal until you’re back up to full and ready to get back to business as usual.

Except with this one, you get to learn to pee standing up in the process. :D

(Protip: don’t try a public urinal until you’ve got it down pat at home. Not because of cis men, but because the learning process is messy, lol! The overwhelming majority of cis men in public restrooms want nothing to do with anyone else while they’re in there. The only place anyone’s gonna give your dick more than half a second’s accidental glance is in a gay bar. In 8+ years of using public men’s rooms I have yet to see one (1) penis that wasn’t mine!)

[sunnylands-world]

If it's the last time forever

PAIRING: Draco x fem reader

SUMMARY: it wasn't ever supposed to be more than a few nights together but a few nights can lead to three words that can ruin everything

WORD COUNT: 1'243

WARNING: mentions of sex, angst, some poetry I wrote in between

UNIVERSE: harry potter

A/N: hi everyone! Sorry I haven't been as active, adult life is kicking my ass right now, anyway I have a request similar to this so I'm thinking I'll make that part 2

You read the warnings if you continue to read. I'm not to be held responsible.

Comments, reblogs, and inboxes are appreciated and motivational

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVING MY WORK POSTED TRANSLATED OR PUBLISHED TO ANY THIRD-PARTY SITE OR APP. IF ANYONE SEES MY WORK ANYWHERE BUT HERE IT HAS BEEN REPOSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.

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Draco knew what this time meant. He'd come to your door around this hour many times but this time it felt more weighted, like what was behind it was his two way answer for life and choosing the wrong answer would ruin everything, he didn't like this feeling. It was suffocating, wrapping his heart in rope and pulling at it till it bled and left sores; but this wasn't supposed to feel that way and it hadn't always.

It was just sex, it had been for months and that's how it was supposed to stay but going into this he knew the risk of touching, seeing, and breathing you in.

That's what started this in the first place.

He'd wanted you but not like this, not before at least. In the beginning he wanted you to himself for pleasure and pleasure only. He didn't like the thought of sharing what he touched and you were his, just for a night; but after a while it wasn't just a quick leave and enter…

The words that were whispered in a breath, the touches that gripped tighter, and the positions went from just feeling to seeing.

The need to see your eyes, the need to feel your lips.

you'd both broken the rules all because sex gave way for feelings and they were clearly there with every movement but neither of you let the words that would change it all slip…

That's where it got intense, that was the hold back that was the brick of ice on waves of water.

As you opened the door you didn't even meet his eyes, and in the beginning that was how it was supposed to be but now it hurts not seeing them look hopeful and excited to see him.

He only sighed as he looked you over while you fidgeted with your fingers. you were so beautiful so perfect to him, something written out of his own diary…

"We need to stop this," you rushed the words out like they were hot on your tongue and he had to admit they stung.

"I- fine" he said, kicking his raw emotions down the steps and watching them tumble.

"Why can't you just say it, do I really mean nothing to you? are you not even gonna try to change my mind!?" You shouted, cracks in your voice making way for your tears to fall and shaking like you'd cave.

"ricochet, ricochet my love… don't fall apart because of me."

"Say what?! That I want this!" He snapped, still fighting back the part of him that wanted more.

"you won't even fight for us, it's like you're heartless!" You say, pointing at him and every breath sucked in like there's not enough air to breathe.

"Can I hold you close, caress your skin, til you can breathe once again? I am the wave beneath your boat, I know how well you float…"

he wanted to tell you that it wasn't true, that he'd been thinking about you when he wasn't here. that he'd been distracted because he needed to be near you to focus. That every time he said possessive things in your ear he meant it but…he wasn't going to.

"I'd tell you something in French because it's pretty, but I can't speak it. My darling, my love. it's hard to be romantic when you're choking on food"

he wasn't sure why but all this scared him, maybe it was because he was in a position that put you in danger or maybe he was afraid of what this all meant but seeing you cry like this dropped his heart Into in stomach breaking it into pieces. He never wanted to be the source of your pain, he only wanted to make everything better but here he was breaking your heart because he was scared.

"Don't cry, please don't cry. I swear I tried but I fuck up sometimes. This isn't an excuse, my pretty muse. I'm an asshole and I know it's true but I sure do give a fuck about you"

"Are you ashamed? Is that it? Does being in love with Harry Potter's sister bother you that much? No, you're a coward. you don't want others to see you with me!"

Your words were full of rage and he deserved it but this was how it had to be, to much was what it would cost and because he hadn't really experienced love he was sure it was worth the risk but he also didn't want it to end like this but telling you otherwise would light a fire in you with hope so he lied.

"yes! I'm afraid I'll look like less if I'm with you!" He said and it sounded like a script he'd rehearsed but it did the job because you felt like a bullet went through you, you were bleeding out, possibly dying.

"Say it isn't true. I'm pulling the rope because I'm in love with you. Be the one to pull it back, fight for what I tried to push back. I won't last long your love gives me a heart attack"

"Get out! And don't even come back again, I never want to see you again, don't speak to me ever again!!" You shouted slamming the door in his face and just like that it was over.

He had to hide his pain as he walked away. He didn't need people to know he was seeing you in the first place. He could hear his father now, picture all the danger this one relationship could be.

He knew if others found out they'd have a field day with the knowledge that draco malfoy was with potter's sister. Word would travel fast like fire on grass, one blade catching and passing along until the whole field burned and that would mean the other death eaters would know. then they'd force him to say where Harry was or worse tell him to trick you into trusting him enough so he could get closer to harry and then they'd want him to kill him.

He couldn't do that to you, he wouldn't.

As time went by his days seemed to be darker than before, much darker and colder than his home.

He didn't like not seeing you anymore, not breathing your air, not meeting your eyes that held a light pulling him and taking him away from all of this.

He wished it was different, pictured a life where he wasn't who he was. Just an ordinary boy without complications but maybe then none of this would have happened, there may not have ever been a him and you.

It made his heart heavy and put a pit in his belly and his throat felt closed and empty. Were you worth it? Were you worth changing everything… he knew you were but he was still just Draco Malfoy and he knew deep down that what happened between you would be the last time forever…

Or maybe it wouldn't

"I can kiss a million roses and forget which one but the reds all stay the same like our love with a claw. I've never been scared of bears because I've never seen them maul but now I know they do have claws, scratching at our love like we've attacked them all. fear not my love, it's not the end for hearts can heal again and roses may grow with new stems…"

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MY TAGLIST HAS OFFICIALLY SHORTENED! IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN MORE OF MY WORK FOR DRACO COMMENT BELOW! 🥳

©Sunnylands-world this belongs to me therefore you don't have the right to do anything with my work or ideas without permission.

Nice thought, reblogs, and inboxing is appreciated and motivational ❤

Draco lovers and requests

@alexxavicry, @kyracanwrite, @animeloverfreak310, @phildunphyisadilf

[avicris918]

This came to me and I don't know where I want it to go. I had to post it somewhere, hopefully to get some feedback.

"You're right. Nobody will mourn me when I burn in, but that's because I've had nobody for the past 15 years. When I made the decision I did, I lost everyone. I kept a promise and in return I was left, again. Story of my life, right?"

Maverick shook his head, ridding himself of the voices starting to overtake his mind, and turned to leave the room.

Before walking out the door he stopped and said "you got everything you wanted, everyone you wanted, and yet you still hate me."

*****

Bradley was standing there, the anger still coursing through him, when Warlock came into the room.

"He's right, you know."

Rooster sighed and asked "about what?"

"For the past 15 years he's been alone. He made a decision that affected your life of course, but in doing so he effectively ruined his as well."

"How? He was still in the Navy. He was still an aviator. He still went all over the world. I was set back four years. I was stopped from doing what I'd always dreamed of doing. Yeah, I'm here now, but behind where I should be."

Warlock just stared at him, displeasure visible only to those who knew where to look for it.

"Of course, you got here. You got here with so many people backing you up. You got here with a handful of uncles willing to do anything for you. You got here with someone standing firmly in your corner, ready to fight any and all demons that came for you."

"What's your point, sir?" Frustration slipping into his voice.

"While you had all of them at your back, who did he have? The minute it became known what he had done everyone turned on him. Those who had been there through the worst of it, just left. Those who knew him better than anyone, knew he had serious abandonment issues, just turned their backs on him."

"That's not my problem."

"Of course it's not. You had people there for you; you had everyone. He's had no one in his corner for the past 15 years. Every accomplishment, every nightmare, every heartache. He's been alone. Every time he's been injured and in the hospital, he's been alone. Every near miss, he's been alone. All those times he should have had family in his corner, helping to show him there was more to his life than flying, that he was worth more than his injuries, he was alone."

Rooster didn't have anything to say.

"Every trip to the hospital he was asked if he had family or someone they could call for him, he said no. There was no one that needed to be bothered, no one would would care and come anyways. I think after his first hospital visit after everything, he just stopped trying."

"I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

"Five weeks after everything he was hit by a drunk driver on base. I happened to be at the hospital when they brought him in and heard them ask for numbers to call someone for him. He said he'd call from his cellphone, which surprisingly enough has t been damaged." Warlock narrowed his eyes at Rooster and he instantly knew what was coming. "He tried calling a handful of numbers to call and no one answered. He sent a couple texts and the same thing happened. I called Ice, just to see if he was busy and he answered right away, asking if everything was good. Mav saw he picked up after two rings, and after that he just stopped."

"I…. didn't….but…..why…"

"Why what? Why did he call? Why didn't he keep calling? Why didn't I say anything?"

"He could have called anyone, any of them would have been there for him."

Warlock shook his head. "But they weren't. They weren't because they were so firmly on your side because of all of your hurt, they forgot he had no one on his side. Not one of them was there for him then and since, and he doesn't expect anyone to be there for him now."

Warlock turned to leave and before walking out the door levyed this final shot at the younger man.

"I've been his NOK and POA for 15 years. I've been there, and I know he appreciates it, but the ones he loved and would do anything for, where were they? He would give up his life for his friends, for his family, but where were they? He kept a promise. He did something he knew would tear up one relationship. He did it knowing that nothing would ever be the same. But to be cut off for your entire support system, at the whims and whines of a teenager whom he loved more than life itself, that was a blow. He never thought those who loved him and cared about him and knew him, would do what was done. But they did, because of you."

[galvanizedfriend]

WIP Wednesday

Posting something for WIP Weds in the hopes to get back on my writing horse. It's been tough lately, friends. This is another snippet of Speed Dating. Not directly after this, but some time later.

Anyway, hopes and prayers for me, my dudes. 😔 I need to write again. Also, about this snippet: jealous!klaroline is my not-so-secret guilty pleasure, I shall not apologize.

Conversation began to flow more freely. Rebekah and Elijah started poking at Camille as though she were a creature from a different planet, both evidently curious about Niklaus' girlfriend. Rebekah knew of her, but they were yet to meet. Cami is graceful and smart and lovely in ways she’d never been before, not to Caroline, and they all seem fascinated. Fits right in with Klaus’ family. Fits right in next to Klaus, with a hand around his elbow.

It makes Caroline sick to her stomach. She hates it. More than she hates Dr. Saltzman’s lectures, more than she hates last week’s tofu, more than she hates getting puked on by drunkards during her shifts. She hates it with every fiber of her being, so freaking much she can almost feel the revulsion singing her bones.

Above anything else, she hates how it makes her feel found out, exposed, rubbing the truth of her feelings in her face until she can no longer deny it: Caroline is infected with jealousy.

Up until that moment, she had felt it in short bursts - acute, but fleeting. It was manageable. Debatable, even. But tonight, has completely destroyed all of her defenses. The harsh, cold truth of it crashed down upon her like a giant wave. Every time Klaus even so much as looks at Camille, speaks to her, whenever his hand accidentally brushes up against hers because she’s sitting way too freaking close to him, Caroline feels an irrational spike of murderous anger, followed by an insane and uncontrollable need to throw something heavy across the room. 

She wants to scream.

Something nasty balls in her throat and makes it impossible for her to continue to socialize. The forged indifference she’s worn all night is about to crack. She is locked in battle for her dignity and being positively massacred.  

She needs a drink. Six drinks. Maybe more. Fast. Anything to dull out the brash reaction threatening to come out.

Before anyone can point out that she could just order directly from their booth, she excuses herself and slips out. Funny how she seems to be the only one to notice how utterly unbreathable the air is.

Away from prying eyes, she abandons the cocktails in favor of something more effectively numbing. She downs a shot of whiskey all at once, and then asks for another. When she signals for a third one, the bartender gives her a look. The lonely girl getting hammered at the bar is looking for trouble look.

"I just had dinner with my roommate, whom I may or may not have feelings for, and his siblings, while they get introduced to his girlfriend, ok? I'm having a really bad night, so I'd appreciate it if you could just pour me a shot and kept the judgment to yourself."

The guy shrugs. "Suit yourself."

"Thank you."

The alcohol is meant to melt down the anxious knots in her stomach, dial down her spiking nerves back to acceptable levels, but the first immediate effect is a different one. The prickly discomfort morphs into a kind of ache, dull but heavier. This sudden uncontrollable need to be the object of Klaus' attention, the reason behind his smiles, the theme of all his stories, gains sharper, clearer contours.

The extreme anxiety she's experiencing, she concludes, is illumination. The kind that comes with a heavy object falling on your head and cracking your skull wide open. This visceral reaction is the answer to all the questions she's been mulling over incessantly for months now. Suddenly, Caroline no longer feels crazy; she feels heartbroken.

[suzukiblu]

I just wanted to say I think you're really cool in the way you defend your own boundaries while also trying to see the best in people (e.g. off-topic Wednesday asks / etc.). Like you make your ask box feel like it's okay to ask questions or not worry too much about how something might come off wierdly if it's read a certain way but also you don't let people walk over you, and that balance is a fucking skill which takes effort and work.

Thank you. 🧡 I definitely do go to a lot of effort to be clear about certain things I'm cool/not cool with while also assuming the best of people's intentions if I ever get comments or questions that are phrased poorly or seem . . . well, questionable, to make an unintentional pun there, haha. I just don't wanna start shit that doesn't need started or slather bad vibes all over some poor well-intentioned random soul who just doesn't have the most immediately up-to-date/informed language or certain experiences to inform their perspective, AND all over all of your dashes on top of that. Like, we were all confused about shit and awkwardly attempting to figure out what the magic question that would explain that shit to us was at SOME point in our lives, if nothing else. You gotta remember your internal stupid kid and how bad they wanted to figure shit out without having the tools for it!! You just gotta!!!!

Like, I literally did not realize gay and bi people were a thing until I was FOURTEEN, man, I just did NOT have that context/experience as a kid. And then, like, four months later I was . . . uhhhhh I'm pretty sure literally the first kid who was publicly out in my entire very tiny "quaint lil' small town full of well-off retirees with gorgeous lawns and literally nothing for a teenager to do outside of school" high school, and at least as far as I ever knew there wasn't another one until my friggin' senior year. And I didn't figure out what asexuality was OR my gender identity until I was in my thirties, despite actively TRYING to figure those out! I just didn't know! I didn't have the word for it for so long I didn't even GET it was a thing that should have a word!

Though to be honest, I really do get way, WAY more people worrying that they're overstepping and preemptively apologizing about it than I ever do people who are actually doing anything I'd personally consider to be overstepping, and I get even fewer people who are INTENTIONALLY overstepping on top of that. Like, I've been very lucky in the audience I've managed to snare/cultivate in my internet times, I very rarely encounter anyone coming into my inbox in bad faith. "Don't like/don't read" seems to be generally respected and I appreciate it, basically, hah.

Also, like, not to get too extra or serious here, but a lot of the reason I write fanfic is because it can contain a lot of things that standard publishing is less immediately open to releasing--like, especially back when I started, it was just NOT a thing to have explicitly queer kids in mega-popular mainstream YA series or all that much gender/racial/neuro diversity past, like, token presences that were at MOST only diversity-CODED half the time anyway and "didn't like labels". And like, that bugged me a LOT as a kid and as a young adult, and still kinda bugs me sometimes these days. I wanted, you know, that SEEN feeling, and I didn't want to only get it from hyper-niche genres/authors that were only writing about being queer and sad about it. I wanted that shit in my dang sci-fi and fantasy and all the FUN stuff, not just, you know, the tragedy-porn cautionary tales. So I want people who are reading my stuff to feel that way, even and ESPECIALLY when they're some totally different flavor of whatever we are from me, and so I REALLY try to be inclusive and welcoming and assume the best of people, at least to the best of my ability.

. . . okay I got kinda carried away with this answer, maybe, haha, but tl;dr: literally everyone has got enough bullshit going on in their lives, I can at least be nice about weird kinks and random gender/mental/physical/???? issues that I don't always necessarily understand the full nuances of on the internet.