#for real babes

[uniunivrse]

yall i think im bad at social media-ing

[foreverindreamlandd]

hi hi hi col my love <3

i'm definitely going to be sending some more of these to you throughout the month because omg what a cute fun way celebrate the holidays <3 just know i'm boxing up a bucky with a thousand smooches for you with a bow on top <3

🧣no context ships, a little random fact about me is that i attempted to go to college for a bachelors in fine arts with an emphasis on pen and ink - but that didn't go anywhere and now i'm considering trying to become a tattoo artist <3 I'm also going to break the rules like mir and not give you a preference (sorry i'm rambling, i'm exhausted lol)

Awww Remi thank you :,) I cannot wait for you to blow up my inbox with all the fun shenanigans <3

This has Biker!Steve Rogers written all over it are you KIDDING

You end up getting an apprenticeship at his friend Bucky's tattoo shop. When you first see the 6'something biker walk in wearing a faded leather jacket, ripped jeans, a red helmet in one hand and a paper bag in the other, you have to actively stop your jaw from dropping.

Mr cool calm suave as hell Steve Rogers stops short, taking you in for a few beats, his tongue pressing the inside of his cheek before he smiles.

And then he's walking by you to Bucky's office, and it doesn't take long for you to convince yourself that whatever that interaction was was just something you made up in your mind.

Until five minutes go by, and biker boy is walking over to you, pulling his leather jacket off. Underneath, he's just wearing a white tank top, and almost every inch of his body is covered in beautifully detailed ink.

"Buck tells me it's your first day," he says in a low, gravelly voice. "Want some practice?"

You swallow, eyes blinking a few times before you gesture to the chair beside you. "What would you like done?" you ask, mentally kicking yourself for the waiver in your voice.

He chuckles, pulling down his shirt until his chest is exposed. There's a little bit of un-inked space just over his hear.

"What's your name?"

"Remi?"

He smiles. "Remi. That's what I want, please."

Winter Wonderland Sleepover

[me-beef]

@strangeravatar made a great point

i was gonna focus on the spike-hotboxing-celestia aspect but i got distracted somewhere along the way and i think i forgot what joke i was trying to make

but dont you think its interesting how many guards of the exact same color/body type she's managed to accrue?? i do

ooohh you want to go look at our stickers so bad

[savagegood]

ice hockey nicknames be like:

also, assigned babygirl/angel/wifey by wikipedia:

update: new sidney crosby nicknames dropped over the weekend

[uniunivrse]

Like, babes, huns, and hoes, it doesn't matter who plays a fictional character or not, as long as that character is done fucking well and fucking accurately, which Nick Nelson was. Sure, it'd be awesome for lgbtq+ actors to play those roles, but sexuality is no one's business but your own. And, quite frankly:

People need to stop using the term "queerbaiting" in a way it's not intended for. The fact that people claimed Kit Connor was queerbaiting to the point where he had to come out to make the shit happening to him end, was just plain harassment and not saving anyone or doing ANYTHING good.

I will reiterate what Frederic Chen says: real people cannot queerbait. They can't. It's not in the definition of the word.

If Heartstopper were queerbaiting at all, go after the fucking author, not the actors. In fact, don't go after anybody, just stop giving it traction. However: Alice Oseman depicted Nick Nelson and Charlie Spring's relationship fucking well. They weren't queerbaiting at all.

And, really: someone's sexuality when it comes to acting, any career where you're pretending to be another thing / person, should not result in that individual being harassed.

Actors are already suffering from issues that you can clearly see from the strikes, don't cause further issues for them and force them to come out or put your noses in their business.

Forcing people to come out isn't progress. Like, please, just mind your own business or focus on the bigger things lmao

why do people care so much about celebrities' sexualities. like why does it make a difference to you, they're not into you so you have literally no reason to care. stop pressuring them to come out to the whole world. they are not required to come out to you.

[underground-secret]

Chappell Roan at the VMAs was everything. People keep confusing her outfit with Joan of Arc but she was actually Julie D’aubigny, which is so much more impactful. Let me explain.

In simple terms she was very good at fencing and she even did opera singing. But what really connects her to what Chappell did is her love story. Julie was a queer woman, she often dressed in men’s clothing but did not attempt to come off as a man.

At some point she had a relationship with a woman, yes a romantic one. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, the girl was shipped off to a convent to prevent the two from being in contact. And to frame it simply Julie followed after her, snuck in pretending to be apart of the whole thing, created this whole elaborate plan to sneak her lover out which included getting a dead nuns body and placing it in the girls bed followed by burning the building down, therefore faking the girls death.

They ran away together. But, a couple months later the girl went back to her family. Julie’s plan was found out and she was charged as a man on a variety of crimes, she was sentenced to death by burning.

Now let’s put this all together.

1. Chappell was consistently using swords

2. In the performance she looked back and shot a flaming arrow at a building burning it down which goes back to the burning of the convent.

3. The song performed was Good Luck, Babe! And Julie’s lover going back to her family is so Good Luck, Babe! coded. Like literally ur lover followed you to a conversion thing, setting up this whole thing so that you can run away together and love freely and then you go back home to ur family and she dies at the stake. Although not surprising for the time period it’s still so crazy and soooo poetic.

4. Julie d'Aubigny has this whole tragic queer story and Chappells music centers around that sort of thing, and what’s more impactful than a literal gay performer dressing as a gay performer who was killed for being gay?

Do you guys see what I mean??? So, while I love the edits I’m seeing please keep in mind that it is not Joan of Arc. In fact, I think it’s super important that this is corrected considering how real and tragic Julie’s story was.

[ericacherrys-blog]

Ready to submit? I’ve got the keys to your chastity🔐 how long do you think you’d last being cum💦 denied?

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

[gordiicore]

[rythyme]

"please tell me the omegaverse show is another joke like the thai goncharov remake" my brother in christ the "goncharov remake" was real too

[uniunivrse]

if i die yall

bury me raw or cremate me and put me in a seed fr fr

[zyn0nn]

One of my favorite parts of Ever After High is Apple being dramatic and having a breakdown every episode

[eru-iru]

makoto sketches i miss him so much the new ep aigis trailer gave me depression again

[tgirltammy]

What will you kiss first Dm with your answer

[kittenflufff]

itty bitty ii15 spoilers!!!

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ok i made this lil gay thing a week or two ago and i can FINALLY SHARE IT ACK

its just tacomic queer content tbh. but i had a vision aa

[erwinsvow]

an idea… rafe and shy reader having sex for the first time

everything's overwhelming with rafe, but this is particularly so. you thought you were completely ready for it, from the way you had handled everything else so well. in fact, rafe was the one taking things at the slowest pace possible, trying to make sure he didn’t pressure you into something you weren’t ready for.

you didn’t like it—thought he was trying to be something he’s not. he’s gentle with you but never like this, never to this extent. it must be a big deal then, sleeping with rafe, giving him your virginity, you finally decide, if he’s acting so differently about it.

in fact, you think you’ve been ready to give it up since you first started dating him. rafe brings it out of you, coaxes a different side of you out with gentle words and soft touches. you’re going mad over it. you can’t count the amount of times you’ve crawled into his lap at any given opportunity, anywhere the two of you are alone—his truck, the couch in your living room and at tannyhill, the hidden booth at the country club. you’re begging for it, not sure how much more obvious you can get.

you finally decide tonight’s the night—following a nice dinner with the two of you. you had spent extra long getting dressed up, a pretty white lingerie set on underneath your blue dress, all done up for rafe. finally back at tannyhill, entire body vibrating and tingling with excitement, you don’t wait another moment, crawling into rafe’s lap and kissing him hard. you take off your dress and rafe stops just for a second to take in how forward you’re being.

“hey,” he finally breathes against your lips, pulling away. “c’mon, you’re not ready for this.” 

“yes i am!” you whine, impatient and horny, feeling rafe get hard underneath you. you want him to be able to do all the things you know he wants to do, want them done to you. “i am, i am-” and you lean back to kiss him, ending up pinned underneath him before long.

he knows you’re not, but he plays along. you’re so wet already he doesn’t have to do much, but he makes you cum all over his fingers anyways, hoping it’ll satiate you.

“please, rafe,” you moan against his mouth, pushing in for another needy kiss. “wan’ it inside. please.” and he does know you, knows everything about you, but even he can’t resist when you say things like that.

you watch with big eyes while he lines himself up with your wet hole, hovering over you. you think you’re so ready, that three of rafe’s fingers inside you should be comparable to what you’re about to feel, that you’re more than prepared. your eyes squeeze shut when rafe pushes inside, all the air leaving your lungs. you try to moan out but it’s more of a gasp than anything else, one that rafe swallows into a kiss. 

your eyes get watery—it’s just habit. it hurts, too, because rafe is so much bigger than you expected. you bite your cheek, looking up at rafe through teary eyes and clasping a hand over your mouth—you don’t want to admit that he was right. 

“c’mon kid, give it up. y’not ready for this, i know you,” rafe says, leaning in close to your ear to whisper it quietly. he’s not even half-way inside you.

“i-i can take it,” you hiccup. you hate disappointing rafe.

and it’s not that he doesn’t want to—he does, desperately so, wants to fuck you within an inch of your sanity every time you walk into a room and look at him with your shy eyes and sweet smile. he wants to break you, wants you cumming on his dick until there’s nothing left in your head, no shyness left in your heart. but he wants it when you’re ready for it, not like this.

it only takes another minute, you finally admit you’re not ready, and rafe pulls out of you. you feel like crying, terribly sad and dejected, wishing you could just be normal for rafe for once, be what he wants. 

“stop,” he says, wiping away a stray tear. his arm rests over your stomach, trying to get you to lighten up. “when you’re ready for it, i’ll fuck you until you can’t think. s’just not today, kid.”

you finally agree when he says that, getting over it because you know without a doubt in your mind—rafe knows you better than you know yourself.