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#don’t…touch me
loviatarsluv-old · 10 months
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sorry I can’t I’m busy clicking on Astarion’s portrait so he says his funny lines to make me giggle
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fithragaer · 1 year
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I’m really enamored with the dynamic of two characters who work perfectly in tandem, like pacific rim drift compatible level, but they don’t like each other. It’s not even as strong an emotion as hate it’s just a very neutral-negative dislike, but they still act in perfect concert and their individual abilities are fully complementary
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alicerovai · 11 months
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let time pass
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“buffy ended the show single :)” ok but only because her current love interest just DIED!! (he near quite literally died in her arms! in sacrifice for her!) her last words of the entire series were telling him she loves him and then saying his name in admiration. she isn’t single; she’s a widow.
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aria-greenhoodie · 1 month
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Have some meme redraws of the radioactive old man yaoi ft. my Human Bill design again‼️
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Click for Quality!
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nerdy-novelist017 · 1 month
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Perfect (Benny Cross x Shy! Reader pt 7)
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The chapter we've all been waiting forrrr! 🤗 I won't lie to you, I'm slightly terrified to post this chapter, but you all are so kind. I hope this is everything you wanted it to be! 🫶
Benny X Bunny Masterlist
Word Count- 3.8k (woah, got a little carried away)
Summary- You've lived your whole life according to what everyone else wanted you to be. Tonight would be the first night of your new life -- one where you decided who you were.
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You took a deep breath, holding it in for a few moments in an attempt to calm your quickened pulse. You had spent the whole rest of the day yesterday thinking about nothing but your future. What was set in stone and what was up to you. You knew what you didn’t want, that much was clear to you now. But could it be possible to have what you wanted when you weren’t even sure if that was what you were?
By the time you had dressed and made your way downstairs for breakfast, you felt as though you were being torn in two. One side was what your head told you to do, the more sensical side. And the other was what your heart wanted to do, the more exciting side. You entered the kitchen where your mother stood at the stove, her hair still in rollers and an apron tied around her waist as she prepared breakfast. 
“Morning, Mama,” you greeted quietly as you approached her to help. Cooking breakfast was your usual routine with your mother, a time spent with secretive giggles and never-ending stories. It was a time where the two of you would be uninterrupted, consumed by only each other in your own world. A place where you would complain to her about your boy troubles at school or how the popular girls were mean to you that day. And as you grew older, and things like high school drama no longer seemed to matter, it became a place where you could talk to her about her life. Where she would tell you how to be mindful of the world around you as she taught you to make poached eggs. A place where she had mentioned numerous times how happy she was because of her family, because of you.  A safe place – home. 
“Morning, honey,” she replied as she shot you her usual cheerful smile. “Coffee’s on the table.”
You thanked her as you poured yourself a cup. You put your apron on and began to help with the homemade pancake batter. You were so lost in the endless sea of thoughts that when your mother mentioned a familiar name, you nearly spilled the bowl of batter. 
“What?” you asked as you looked over at her. 
“I said Pete came by, asking for you,” she repeated as she did a double take at your crestfallen expression. 
“He did?” you inquired in a small voice. “Did he . . . say anything?”
“He asked if he could speak with you. He seemed real insistent,” she laughed. “I had to tell him you were in the shower to finally get him to leave.”
At your silence, she continued hesitantly, “How did your date go?”
You sighed, “It was . . . okay.”
“He seems like a real nice guy.” 
You nodded weakly, feeling oddly reluctant to tell her what had happened at the golf course, the anger in his eyes, the sudden volume in his voice as he slammed his hands against the car.
She lowered the spatula she was using to stir the scrambled eggs, and she turned to face you fully. “Is everything okay, (Y/N)?” 
You nodded again but when you glanced up at her, you could see the disbelief in her eyes. You could fool a lot of people, but your mother was never one of them. 
“What’s going on?” she prodded in that controlled mix of gentle firmness that only mothers can conjure. You were silent for several long beats, unsure of how to vocalize your feelings. 
“I don’t think I want to go out with Pete anymore, Mama,” You admitted softly and being able to speak those words aloud for the first time felt like a tremendous weight had been lifted off your shoulders so you go on, “I don’t like the way he treats me compared to others. I can’t see myself being married to him.”
She fell quiet for a few agonizing moments, and you worry that you might have said too much. You avoided her gaze, looking down at the raw batter in front of you as you tried to figure out how you can fix what you’ve just said. 
But then, “Is there someone else you met?”
You looked back at her face, your heart sinking at the sight of her serious, unreadable expression and your mouth suddenly felt too dry to speak. You only nodded. 
She looked down at her pan of eggs for a moment. “Was it that blonde boy? The one with the motorcycle?”
Your mouth fell open in shock. “How–?”
“I saw him drop you off last night,” she explained. “I was reading in my bedroom when I heard the engine pull up. And when I looked out the window, I saw the two of you standing there.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the realization that Benny was not a secret of yours anymore. He was living in your reality now, a figure to receive the scutanty of your parents, of your neighbors, of your family. The thought left a pit to form in your gut. 
“Your father will never approve of that, (Y/N),” she said, firmly shooting down your outlandish hopes. “You know that.”
“I know. I just . . . ” you trail off with a sigh as you sink into one of the chairs at the small breakfast table in the kitchen. “He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before, Mama. He’s fun and exciting. He just seems to understand me so perfectly. And the way he talks to me, the way he makes me feel about myself . . .”
Your mother abandoned her position at the stove to sit in the chair beside you. “That isn’t a practical choice, honey. It’s not going to guarantee you any stability for your future. I want you to have a good life, to live in a good house with a husband that has a good job. He isn’t that and who knows if he will ever be able to provide you with those things.”
You swallowed the painful lump forming in the back of your throat as you looked down at your lap, knowing that she’s right. 
Her hand slid across the table to grab yours tightly. “But I also saw the look on his face as he watched you walk up to the house. That look of pure devotion and love.” There were tears shining in her eyes as she struggled to speak. “And I realized I have never seen your father look at me the way that boy looked at you.” 
Your heart shattered at her admission, and you squeezed her hand tightly, stunned into silence. 
“All I want in life is for you to be happy. That’s all I want. Every time I see a shooting star or blow out the candles on my birthday cake, I make a wish for you to live a happy life.” She swallowed thickly as her eyes fluttered over your features. “I understand that your happiness might not look the same as mine, and that’s okay. Your father won’t approve of this, and you know how he gets. But I will always support you – always.”
“Oh, Mama,” your voice cracked as you stood quickly to wrap your mother in a tight hug. 
As you stood in the embrace of your mother’s arms, you realized it had been a long time since you had been consoled like this by her. And in this moment, you felt like a little girl again, still in need of your mother’s infinitely understanding advice and kind hugs. Muffled by her sweater, you whispered, “You make me happy, Mama.” 
“You make me happy too, my girl,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She pulled back eventually, holding you by the shoulders. “I want you to choose the thing that will bring you happiness.”
You nodded and she reached out to wipe the tears that had fallen down your cheeks as she said, “Now, help me finish breakfast before those eggs start to burn.”
“Yes, Mama,” you laughed, sniffing as you watched her move back to the stove, noticing the undeniable actions of her swiping at her own tears as she did. 
And now you stand, at the threshold of someplace you’d never expected to be, you’re nervous, but sure of yourself. Thunder rolled through the sky as a storm brewed in the distance, and you almost laughed at the realization that you had successfully outran the storm, a strangely comforting irony. Releasing your breath, you push open the door before you could give it another thought. 
The inside of the Vandals clubhouse is bustling with people, more than you had ever seen in one small place. Cigarette smoke filtered through the air, covering the environment in a haze. Loud voices, glass clinking, cue balls clacking against the pool tables all mix together with the music playing from the jukebox in the back. Overwhelmed, you stand in the doorway for a moment, eyes scanning through the sea of bodies covered in the infamous Vandals colors. After a moment of hesitation and a brief thought of turning around and going back out the door you came in, you pushed on, sliding into the room like a boat into a river. Weaving your way through the packed bar, you passed a few tables where someone bumped into you as they stood from their seat. You apologized and tried to move by, but the unfamiliar man reached out and grabbed your wrist.
“Where are you off to, pretty little thing?” he asked, his voice slurring as he tried to grin at you but he must have been seeing double because his eyesight was staring at the spot over your right shoulder. Before you could respond, someone else from the table spoke up, his voice barely heard over the noise of the bar.
“Hey, I know you,” he said, his dark slicked back hair and clean shaven face familiar, but you couldn’t place his name. “You’re Benny’s girl.”
You felt heat rise to your cheeks at his words and you shrunk into yourself a bit, losing a bit of your already wavering confidence.
“It’s Wahoo,” he clarified as he too stood from his seat, moving to grab his drunk friend and pull him away from you. “Don’t let him bother you, he didn’t know who you were, was all.”
You nodded, grateful for his help. “Is Benny here?”
“Yeah, ’was over by the pool table in the back last I saw,” Wahoo responded as he pointed in the general direction. 
You tried to steady your pounding heart as you made your way to the back of the bar. Brushing into a temporarily clear path, that’s when your eyes found his tall, lean figure, that dirty blonde hair and wicked grin. Your steps faltered a bit. He hadn’t seen you yet, you could still turn around and go back to your ordinary life. But that wasn’t what you wanted anymore. You were scared, but you were here anyway. You approached the table where you saw other faces you recognized (Johnny, Brucie, Gail, Zipco and a few others whose names you hadn’t committed to memory yet) but none of them were your primary focus. 
Gail was the first to notice you nearing, and she elbowed her husband to get his attention as she said something you couldn’t quite detect in the loudness of the bar. But her commotion with Brucie garnered Johnny’s interest as he two turned to look at you, a smile breaking out across his face. Benny turned from his sidestance, his eyes scanning over the crowd in an attempt to see what was so important to distract the players while the game continued. His eyes roved over your face for a fleeting second, continuing on before jumping back to you in a flustered doubletake. 
Then suddenly, you were on the other end of the pool table, directly across from Benny who looked at you as though you were an apparition. You leaned your hands to rest against the pool table, trying to look more confident than you were as you felt the eyes of every person near the pool table on you. 
“Bunny?” Benny asked, almost speechless as he handed his pool stick off to Zipco. He rounded the table to be closer to you as he continued. “What–what are you doin’ here?” 
“I came to speak with you,” you respond, eyes glancing at the others around the table before landing on him again. “To ask you something.”
He got the hint loud and clear. “C’mon,” he said as he grabbed your hand in his own and pulled you through the room to the backdoor where he pushed it open and motioned for you to go first. 
It had already begun to rain lightly, tiny droplets hitting the concrete with a gentle pitter patter. The coolness of the outside air surrounded you in a pleasant way compared to the atmosphere inside. There were a few bikers out back smoking and talking, but Benny didn’t seem to mind their presence as he led you down the way, keeping under the dry safety of the overhang. 
“Is it always that busy?” you ask when you both stopped. With your back against the brick wall and Benny standing just in front of you, the overhang didn’t offer much room from the rain. But that didn’t seem to bother him either as his eyes were locked onto you despite the roof runoff hitting his jacket. 
“No.” He shook his head. “There was a convention in town today and most of those guys in there are from Columbus. I’m sure that’s pretty overwhelming for you.” 
Your heart fluttered at his gentle squeeze of your hand and you were acutely aware that he hadn’t let you go since pulling you along out here. “It wasn’t so bad.”
“Did you walk here?” he asked, and thunder rumbled somewhere behind him.
“No, I rode my bicycle,” you replied. “Bike, I should say, makes me sound cool like you guys.”
“You’re way cooler than me, Bunny,” he said, his voice low as he wore a lopsided smile.
You couldn’t help but mirror his expression as you looked up at him, realizing just how close the two of you were. The scent of his cologne tickled your nose in a way that sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. It was almost unfair, you realized, that he was so effortlessly attractive – he looked good, he sounded good, he smelled good – and you don’t think he even knew the effect he had on you. And he had the audacity to look at you like you were the gem. 
“What?” he asked after your beat of silence, his eyes flickering to your lips.
“Nothing,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you blurted out the question that had been burning inside you the entire ride here. “Do you want to go to California with me?”
“Right now?” 
“No.” You tried to cover your giggle. “I mean, some day. I do want to go. Remember when we talked about it?”
“I remember.”
Benny’s unwavering gaze caused your heart rate to speed up but you trudged on, “I’ve always thought it wasn’t a practical dream, that somehow it couldn’t be me who walked down the beach because I'd been too busy with school and then school became work and work would become marriage and keeping house.” Your carefully rehearsed speech began to fragment as you spilled your jumbled thoughts. “But I realized that is so silly because it’s my life, and I–I can do whatever I want with whoever I want. And I want to go to California to see the Pacific Ocean, and I was wondering if you’d want to go with me.  So . . . what do you say?”
He stepped closer to you, his face just inches from yours, his voice incredibly gentle as he said, “I think I'd go just about anywhere you asked me to, Bunny. But are you sure it’s me who you’re wantin’ here?”
Your brow furrowed slightly at his response. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because I’m not the kind of guy girls like you fall for. I’m the exact opposite.” His free hand reached out and brushed a tendril of your hair behind your ear as his voice dropped an octave. “But when I'm with you . . . I feel like I could do better. Like maybe I could be better. Not perfect, but something closer to worthy.”
“I’ve been perfect my whole life. Perfect grades, perfect smile, a perfectly quiet doll on the shelf.” You look at the biker standing before you. The exact opposite of what you’ve been surrounded by your entire life. The exact person you’ve been told to stay away from. But there were things that you noticed about him now that you hadn’t when you first saw him at the picnic. Those hands, calloused and scarred from years of fighting, were holding your own gently as if you were made of glass. That mouth, capable of verbally hurting just about anyone who got in his way, only ever spoke softly to you. Those eyes which have undoubtedly seen their fair share of the worst of humanity, gaze at you as if you were the moon. This man, the excitement you feel you’ve been unknowingly waiting for your whole life. You stepped closer to him, your noses brushing together softly as you whispered, “I don’t think I want perfect anymore.”
“What do you want, Bunny?” he asked, an unmistakable vulnerability in his raw voice. 
Your answer to him in nonverbal as you closed the gap between you, lips pressing against his softly. The world seemed to pause as you gently kissed Benny, your heart pounding in your chest. The kiss was soft at first, tentative as you both seemed to test the waters of something new and uncharted. Overcome by your overthinking, you began to draw back, but Benny’s palm cupped the side of your face, pulling you back to him with a more meaningful kiss. His lips were warm and rough, a stark contrast to the gentle way his hand held yours early as he deepened the kiss with a sense of urgency that sent a wave of heat to fill your core. His hand moved to protect the back of your head as he backed you up to the cool brick of the wall behind you. 
Benny’s mind was racing with a whirlwind of emotions he wasn’t used to feeling. He had been careful, so careful, to keep his distance, to remind himself that a girl like you would never be with a man like him. He had hoped, prayed, that you might return even an ounce of his feelings for you, but he had to be realistic. You were a beautiful dream, so far out of his reach. But now with your lips on his, your fragile hands clutching the fabric of his jacket, he couldn’t deny the truth any longer. You were breaking down every wall he had built, showing him that just maybe, he was worth more than he believed. 
He had never kissed anyone like this before – with a mix of tenderness and passion that made his heart ache in a way that both terrified and galvanized him. He moved his hand down your side, gripping your hip tightly. He didn’t want to let go, didn’t want this moment to end. Because in this kiss, he felt something he hadn’t in a long time: hope.
He’d spent so long believing he wasn’t good enough– that his life was too rough, too messy for someone like you. But in this moment, as your breath mingled with his own and your heartbeat racing against his chest, he started to believe, even just a little, that he could be the man you saw in him. That he could be worthy of this, of you. 
Your lips parted slightly, and Benny took the invitation, kissing you with a newfound fervor, pouring all his sentiments into it – the longing, the fear, the hope. The connection between you felt electric, and for the first time in a long time, Benny didn’t feel lost. He felt found. Found by you, found by this moment. 
This is real, he thought almost in disbelief, She chose me. He could hardly comprehend it, but the evidence was right there in the way that you kissed him back with equal intensity, the way you clung to him as if he was the only thing grounding you. His lungs burned and he had to pull back, but he kept his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against yours, his thumb stroking your cheek. I don’t deserve her, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, but for the first time, another voice – a stronger one– countered, Maybe I could someday. 
He opened his eyes, seeing the softness in your gaze, the way your parted lips were slightly swollen from the kiss. It hit him then, like a bolt of lightning. He wanted to be better, not just for himself, but for you. Because you deserved more than just a rough-edged biker, you deserved the world. And if you’d let him, Benny was determined to give it to you. 
“Was–was that okay?” you asked breathlessly, unsure if you’d done it right, but hoping he had felt what you couldn’t put into words. 
His eyes softened even more as a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “It was more than okay, Bunny.”
Your smile grew, a little more confident now, despite the heat tinging your cheeks. Suddenly the backdoor squeaked open and Brucie poked his head out the doorway. 
“Benny, you’re up to shoot, kid,” he said and must have seen the closeness of your bodies, the way Benny still held onto your waist because he smirked smugly. 
Benny didn’t even glance over. “Tell ‘em to hold my spot.”
“Pool?” you asked, tugging on his jacket lightly as Brucie disappeared back inside. 
Benny nodded, grinning lazily down at you. “Yeah, you ever played?”
You shook your head, feeling a little shy. “No, never. But . . . I’d like to try.”
He raised his eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You want me to teach you?”
You nodded, this time with more certainty. “I think I’d like that.”
He took your hand, leading you back inside as the rain continued to pour around you. As he lead you back into the bar, the noise and constant chatter engulfing you once again, you felt reassured by the steady warmth of his hand in yours. And he didn't let go of your hand even when you got to the table. A few members cheered and teased Benny, but he only smiled and shook his head, his focus on you, instead. He stood behind you, positioning you gently. 
“Here’s the thing,” he murmured, his voice low and just for you. “You don’t have to know everything right away. Sometimes it’s about the journey, not just the win.”
You looked over your shoulder with a small smile, your faces only inches apart. “I think I’m ready for the journey.”
Benny’s gaze gentled. “So am I, Bunny. So am I.”
-Tag List-
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ollyrewind · 1 year
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are you still listening by abbie bosworth
(my merthur playlist that’s like ten years in the making)
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transmascissues · 1 year
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gay trans men: isn’t it fucked up that so many cis gay men proudly talk about how disgusting they think our bodies are, get violent when they realize they were attracted to one of us, push us out of community spaces because they don’t think we belong there, invalidate the orientation of the cis gay men who enter into relationships with us, accuse us of raping the cis gay men we’ve had sex with, aggressively misgender us and make assumptions about our bodies, act like their personal lack of desire to be with us means we must be fundamentally unattractive and morally reprehensible, and generally treat our existence like a personal attack worthy of a violent response when all we’re trying to do is exist?
those cis gay men & their friends: oh my god, you’re literally trying to force your disgusting female pussy onto gay men! this is conversion therapy! you’re a predator and a rapist and you deserve to die!
gay trans men: …we literally do not care if you have sex with us. nobody said anything about that. a lot of us are t4t, asexual, and/or already in a relationship, and the rest of also don’t want to have sex with you that badly because we would much rather be fucking someone who actually likes us; this has never been about who we personally want to sleep with. we’d just really appreciate it if you could treat us like human beings and not actively try to make the gay community hostile toward our existence. you don’t have to be attracted to us, just don’t be awful to us? and maybe, once you have that part down, ask yourself why you were so quick to assume a subset of queer people are all violent predators?
those people: HOMOPHOBES! EVIL GROSS FETISHIZING RAPIST HOMOPHOBES!
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falmerbrook · 5 months
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Oblivion has the weirdest aesthetic choices going on. Everything is super bright and saturated, the characters look silly and almost bordering on cartoonish, and the voice acting and delivery tends to be pretty silly. The whole things has such a strong classic fantasy vibe compared to the other tes games, but also there's a bunch of realistic gore and rotting corpses and really dark questlines with gross visuals (for the quality of those visuals). it's such a weird game.
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moonkhao · 2 months
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WE ARE | EP16
#we are#we are the series#we are series#tanfang#aou thanaboon#aouboom#boom tharatorn#my edits#weareedit#AOUBOOM MAIN LEADS WHEN???#i do appreciate them and the way they’ve been portraying tanfang#i know tan was a bit over the top 99% of the time#but every scene and touch felt so genuine#and i’m not gonna credit that to new#bc he wasn’t able to direct ppw in a way that didn’t make their kisses look a bit awkward#i know scenes have to look aesthetically pleasing in some way#and that’s why we keep having to deal the ‘no one would kiss with this much space for jesus between each other’ complaints#but like look at aouboom here#this is mostly them and their acting choices in my humble opinion#and don’t get me started on the pecks#ppw BARELY touched the other one’s lips when they had to do a peck kiss#like cmon the difference between ppw and aouboom pecks is insane#i’m sorry for picking on ppw but i’m a bit sad that some of their romantic scenes were a bit lackluster#especially that very last kiss which tbh i rather wouldn’t have seen bc it felt a bit awkward to me#but that may be just me#i need new to get a bit more frisky with kiss scenes when it comes to his directing#bc i feel like friskier kiss scenes only happen when the actors mostly do their thing after finding out what the director wants#(maybe i’m completely wrong about new but tkdkfdkddkdk)#and don’t get me wrong idgaf if there are kisses or not but if there’s a kiss scene you should commit instead of holding yourself back idk#and ppw definitely need a better director to help them achieve that bc jojo was definitely better at directing them
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zu-is-here · 7 months
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<– • –>
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xoxoemynn · 1 year
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fumifooms · 4 months
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Dad always said I was like him
Meijack and Chilchuck Tims Dungeon Meshi, Ryoko Kui
^ 1: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 2: Bug like an angel, Mitski / 3: Woodtangle, Mary Ruefle / 4: The Third Hour of the Night, Frank Bidart / 5 & 6: FROM THE MAKERS OF "TWO-MOM ENERGY DRINK," IT'S "LET YOUR FATHER DIE ENERGY DRINK,", Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 7: Batman: Year Three (1989) / 8 & 9 : FROM THE MAKERS OF […], Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 10: Wilt, CJ the X / 11: How Do We Forgive Our Fathers, Dick Lourie / 12: Milk and honey, Rupi Kaur / 13: And My Father's Love Was Nothing Next To God's Will, Amatullah Bourdon / 14: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 15: Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong, Ocean Vuong / 16: untitled, Joan Tierney v 17: Drunk, The Living Tombstone / 18: unknown
When your father tried his best to provide for you but he worked all the time and even when he was home he was either tired or stressed and he’s always liked to get drunk to relax and cheer up. When you know he values work ethics and respectability so you grew up to be capable and quiet. And when he says you’re like him you’re sort of puzzled, does he really know you so little, or does he know himself so little? But you like the feeling of your father ruffling your hair so you accept it, and still you stand next to your mother just as silent and just as stoic as her during family gatherings. He leaves again and again and when your mother leaves him nothing changes, really. You wonder if it’s more telling that you know him better than he seems to himself or that you don’t know him as much as you wish you did, or that you don’t think about him all that much these days. Out of sight, out of mind. And he’s never really been there, even when he was there, after all.
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trashart00 · 2 months
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Ladynoir July 2024, Day 15: Soulmates
@ladynoirjuly
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(something about them choosing to be each other’s soulmate with the stamps or whatever)
First | <- Previous | Next ->
My other soulmate-y Ladynoir July drawing
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fishykays · 1 year
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Kirb and ducks <3
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fawn-tongues · 1 month
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Safe Bet
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