#i forget if i have a personal post tag or not

[camisulsul]

I have so many people to mention, sorry if I forget any, it's impossible for me to remember all their usernames, and thank you @rollo-rolls for tagging me and always being there with your little heart in my crappy posts 😁

@satureja13 @lalasimmer @id-element0 @suteflower @sommeliersims @happy-lemon @mercury101 @waaneco @doka-chan @nornities @sommeliersims @miss-may-i @crypticsimspixel and every little person that is always there in my bizarre stories, also to every cc creator and converter, without them maybe this community wouldn't be the same ♥️

Starting a simblr love train 💚

With the holidays here and the year ending, I think its rather appropriate to start a love train! Tag your favorite people so show your love and appreciation to them 💚

[panic-flavored]

Apparently my stobotnik post about Stone saying "I lost you once I can't lose you again" has somehow left the safety of the stobotnik tag/fandom and is now being reblogged by peope who have zero context about it, and I'm getting tags and messages calling me out for ace erasure akajdjjdjdjdjd

I am an ace person who made a post about a very gay line from a very gay character in a sonic movie leave me aloneeee 🤣

Also it's very funny watching people discover this ship through my post tbh. I keep forgetting there are people on Earth who don't know Eggman and his henchman have a thing going on in these movies

[nameless-pirate]

Zoro: smutty headcanons

Summary: smut Zoro headcanons with a little bit of fluff at the end. Tags: nsfw, for both afab and amab reader Notes: My first One Piece love. Zoro, my dearest mosshead, I love you.

– MDNI –

Sex in a relationship kind of a person.

Probably not going to be the one suggesting something new, so any adventurous ideas would have to come from you.

Still, he can surprise you. He might borrow a book from Chopper about human anatomy to learn more about pleasure and later see whether what he learned checks out.

Zoro loves to slap your butt. You might as well tattoo his hand on your ass.

Before getting together with you, he would be very methodical about his sex life. He'd masturbate in the morning and the shower if the mood struck.

Now, his libido is higher, and he definitely blames you as it distracts him from training.

(afab) Likes period sex. The blood doesn't bother him, and it helps you relax.

Definitely uses sex as stress relief.

Post-sex nap is a must.

Emotional intimacy turns him on. Whenever you share a romantic moment, especially conversations about your feelings for each other, you end up underneath him with his lips on your neck and him slowly thrusting into you.

(amab) Zoro is a top.

He can give up control and be submissive, but he'll more often than not take the lead.

If you swoon over him and tell him how hot he looks, he will fuck you.

Into neck kisses. He loves to lick and bite your neck.

Kiss his neck too. That's the only time you're going to hear him whimper and moan. Other than that, he usually grunts and breathes heavily.

Don't be afraid to scratch his back. In fact, leave claw marks.

He likes to keep his hands on your hips and squeeze them while he thrusts into you.

Not going to say no to a blow job, but he will eventually tell you to stop so he can be inside you.

Accidentally turns you on. He usually doesn't mean to, but sometimes he will mindlessly trail his fingers across your bare skin. It happens a lot when you sit next to each other (especially if you're wearing shorts or a skirt) or lie next to each other.

That's why foreplay starts early on. A not-so-innocent touch here and there, a whisper of what he'd do to you, and a makeout so hot and sloppy you forget your name.

Long sessions. He can withhold his orgasm and fuck you for hours.

He used to fall asleep right after sex, but one time someone called him and he looked at you: dreamy eyes filled with bliss, sweaty, still heavily breathing. Now, he doesn't go to sleep right away; he gazes at you in awe until he can no longer keep his eyes open.

[simp-ly-writes]

The Assassin's Wife

─────── · · A 'Day of the Jackal' (TV series) FanFic

Pairing: Charles "Jackal" Calthrop x Wife!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: To put it simply, you are the wife of Charles Calthrop having met him at a work event over a decade ago, your romance was story-book perfection up until when you learned he kills people for a living...

─ · · TAGS: second person perspective used, female-pronouns used, fluff and angst, scenes of stalking, blood, violence, injury, guns, and obsessive behaviours, hurt/comfort, arguments, swearing, lying, kissing, the Jackal being a ultra charismatic mf, Marissa (OC), not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 5,570

─ · · A/N: post number 300! woohoo! soo... I kinda really loved this ask and wrote a whole bunch for it. Be ready for some fluff, angst, and then fluff again!

─────── · ·

─ · · You had been married to your husband, Charles, for well over a decade now. You had met him while attending a work event overseas, your job always had you traveling keeping you from starting any longterm relationships up until you met Charles that faithful night.

─ · · You remember the deep navy blue suit he wore with a light blue dress-shirt underneath. His accessories were silver and by the family signet ring on his finger, you knew him to be coming from wealth and to your surprise as he greeted you with a kiss to the back of your palm, he made his empire himself as he described to you over a few too many glasses at the bar.

─ · · Charles swept you off your feet that night with his lingering looks on your lips, the way he gently held your hand, interlacing your fingers before pulling you outside and to a cab. You remember his touch trailing up your thigh as you gasped at the back of the cab before clearing your throat and placing your head against his shoulder... much like the position you found yourself in currently as you watched your husband sleep, his arm snuggly around your side, head against his bare chest as you traced the various scars across it with curiosity.

Your husband explained to you the multitude of stories on how he obtained each scar and warp of skin as you kissed everyone the same; with love and attention as he had shown you. You simply adored how hard working he was, always away and coming back with that necklace you were eyeing in the market or a surprise vacation. But you couldn't help but miss him, want him with you, and you didn't know if that was selfish of you or not to want him with you constantly when he provided for you with utmost dedication.

─ · · But after so many years of gifts and hugs at the airport as you waved him goodbye. You felt lonely sitting in the parking lot wondering the next time you would see your husband and quite frankly, all of your friends told you he was most likely cheating on you by how often and long he was away without messaging or calling you.

You always waved away their concerns for your wellbeing as you took care of the estate, went to work for a few hours of the day before busying yourself with random hobbies and studying various topics for the off chance Charles would bring it up in conversation during one of his work rants, you liked to call them. Remembering the weight of his head in your lap, the feeling of his soft golden curls running through your fingers as he said every time, without fault, "I'd much rather be here with you, my love." But did he ever fall through with those words? no. But you loved your husband regardless.

─ · · You would always pick him up form the airport when he called the night before, waiting in a sundress with drinks and snacks ready in the car for the long ride back. Charles would place his large hand on your knee as you drove, charming you endlessly with his commentary the whole ride home, "I was beginning to forget just how beautiful you were, had to come back." "What an angel, you are. My guardian angel just meant for me." "You look as raidient as the sun in that dress, my love." "Remind me to kiss you with the same desperation I feel now when we stop."

And like clockwork, you would flush under his loving stare and words before being pulled into bed in an outward display of his love that would leave your legs weak in the morning and him bringing you both up breakfast in bed before presenting you another gift.

You held a tight smile while accepting the gift this time, not wanting to seem ungrateful yet your heart desired the non-material... and it seemed Charles understood this, had been planning something for awhile. You observed the box to be moving and to have... hole in it? You thought to yourself before looking to your husband with shock and confusion as a little bark sounded from inside.

"Charles, darling. You. Did. NOT," you gasp before throwing off the lid as a puppy comes bursting out to your chest, licking your face with gratitude before exploring the bed. Charles picks up the fluffy creature, leading it back to you before sitting near the foot on the bed, massaging your leg gently with a smile, "I know you've been feeling lonely recently and I apologize. I promise that after this next job... I won't have to work as much, this is just the last thing, I promise."

You stare into his eyes for a moment, the puppy wigging in your arms as you pet their head and scratch behind their ears with a subconscious smile growing on your face. "Really?!" you ask excitedly, blinking away tears of hope in your eyes seeing as Charles chuckles softly before you, crawling towards you both and pressing a kiss to the side of your head, catching a kiss on the chin by your new pet as well, "Yes."

─────── · ·

─ · · Charles had actually stayed for longer than you were used to, something about preparing and studying his opponent to strike the best deal. You nodded along, interested but confused on the details of this supposed interaction he had planned as you both walked the dog around the garden property line.

"When we get back, I just have to jot-down the rest of the details before I can join you two for dinner. I picked up your favourite bottle from the market earlier that I was thinking we could share?" You nod, pressing a kiss to his cheek before unclipping your new companion from their leash, watching as they run inside and to their water dish.

Charles's arms wrap around your waist as he presses a kiss to your exposed neck, feeling his smile against your skin, "I love you, darling." You rest your hands atop of his, leaning against his chest and close your eyes, enjoying the warm evenings breeze drifting across both of your forms before taking a deep breath and watching as Charles leaves you and heads to his study.

You get dinner moving, dancing and singing around the kitchen as your puppy runs between your feet, barking cheerfully and trying to dance alongside you. Giggling you pick him up, resting his upper arms on your shoulder as you use them as your partner, spinning and twirling towards the living before placing them in their back in their bed.

Your phone goes off as you rush back to the stove and take the tray out and leave it to cool in front of an open window before cutting the bread. "Smells divine in here," you jump, starting and nicking yourself on the knife, cursing softly as you watch the blood drip from the small cut with a wince before heading towards the sink.

Charles is distraught at the sight of you bleeding, taking quick long strides over to your form, holding your elbow gently as he inspects the small nick, "I'm so sorry," he mumbles a few times between kisses to your face before he moves to get the first-aid kit underneath the skin, patting the counter for you to sit upon as he stands between your legs and dresses the cut.

You smile at how softly he touches you, apologizing as you wince at the solution to cleanse the cut before kissing the bandaged finger afterwards. "I'm quite alright, Charles. Just a minor thing-" you begin to explain yet your husband just shakes his head, annoyed with myself. "I shouldn't have distracted you, got you hurt in the first place, I hate seeing you with this," he holds up your hand in front of both of your faces.

You press your forehead against his own, closing your eyes, "Charles, my love. I would forgive you even if you shot me. No need to worry," You joke in a loving tone- not understanding to the way the Jackal tenses feeling your touch. Visions of your corpse flashing before his eyes with life-like accuracy as he begins to feel queasy, shaking in your hold.

You pull away once feeling him start to breath heavily. His touch falling from your hand to grip the kitchen counter, knuckles turning white as he sees you look up at him with tear-covered eyes, his hand shakes with the trigger- "Charles?" you call out softly, hand hovering over his cheek, feeling as he flinches at the touch, taking a step away while shaking his head to himself before appearing... scarily calm again.

You watch as he smiles, brings up dinner and walks past whatever... episode he seemingly just had as if it had never happened in the first place... a mere fragment of your imagination. You furrowed your brows, jumping down from the kitchen counter before filling up both your plates and following Charles out to the patio where a table set with candles was prepared for you both.

Your heart tremors in your chest, watching as he pulls out a chair for you before pushing you in and seating himself. Pouring glasses of wine for you both with a cheers you gulp down the liquid quickly before gently placing the glass back down on the table and taking a bite of your food, debating weather or not to bring up what had just happened or not.

You ultimately decide not too, enjoying this moment that has been few and far between in recent months as your husband charms you like the first day you met, with coy smiles and charming words that have you falling into his arms and back into bed where you rest upon his chest, listening to his heart beating for you once more.

─────── · ·

─ · · Your friends call you in the morning as you invite them over before telling Charles, you rush towards his office in case he is still undressed for they all would be coming shortly to use the pool.

Knocking at the door, his voice invites you in to see the puppy in his lap as Charles fixes his glasses, looking up from the documents scattered across his desk to you with a loving smile and crinkled eyes, "good morning my love, I'm sorry I was not there to wake you."

You wave a hand on his face walking over and pulling him in for a kiss before looking over the papers and blueprints curiously, hand hovering over the smear of red ink against the corner of a crumpled page before Charles' voice redirects your attention with a hand to your hip, giving a gently squeeze, "was there something you wanted to say?"

"Oh, yes!" you jump back to your previous thoughts watching as he turns away from the desk, the dog jumping off his lap and running down the hall leaving the seat empty. You stare for a moment debating, knowing that if you sit down you might not be ready in time. The Jackal did not care about what you were thinking in the moment though, simply gabbing you by your waist and allowing you to fall into his lap.

"Marissa and my other friends are coming over shortly to use the pool, I just thought to let you know beforehand so you could get ready as well," you explain, playing with the buttons to his creme linen shirt listening to him hum. "I'm afraid that I still have-" you look at him with pleading eyes, hand brushing against the skin of his chest and trailing down, watching as the words die on his lips, "...alright. I'll be there shortly."

You quickly stand back up with a smile, cheering happily listening to him laugh before rushing back to your wardrobe to pick a swimsuit and throw-over for the occasion.

─────── · ·

─ · · A knock sounds at the door that has you nearly falling down the stairs and rushing to hug your guests. Marissa squeals in your ear, wrapping her arms around your shoulders as you both swing side to side. She presents you a bottle of wine and a platter of fresh fruits which you bring out to the deck, showing your guests to where the fridge and restrooms were.

─ · · You feel overjoyed having the house filled and to see the dog running around and jumping after their toys in the pool. You lean back in a lounge, soaking up the sun before a shadow overtakes the warmth. You peel up your sunglasses, as Marissa tits her head to the side, mouthing, follow me. You raise a brow in question but follow her nevertheless into the pool house in which she quickly closes the door and shuts the blinds on both of you.

"Marissa?" you call out her name, squinting through the darkness before flicking on the light," Is everything alright?" you ask again watching as her smile wavers, hands shaking as she moves to grip your own. "I think it's best for you to sit before I say anything..." her thumbs brush against the back of your hands soothingly, your heart races- debating of weather or not to quickly grab Charles for whatever news you were about to be it with.

Seemingly knowing your thoughts, Marissa shakes her head, taking a seat beside you on a stack of spare cushions for your outdoor furniture. "This is about Charles," she explains- you debate weather or not to roll your eyes. "Of course it is. What news do we have this time?" you ask, feeling irritated as you side your hands away from her touch. She looks at you for a moment before sighing, "I know you feel as though I am in the wrong for calling out your relationship and maybe I am, maybe I'm not but I only want you to be safe and happy... you're my best friend, hun and I don't want to see you get hurt."

You nod smiling, "same goes to you-"

"Yes," Marissa cuts you off, playing with her hair, "thats why I'm telling you that your husband isn't who you think he is." She bites her lip, waiting on your reaction. You lean your head forwards, "go on?" wanting to indulge in another one of her 'stories.' She cuts right to the chase.

"He kills people." You gasp, standing up and shaking your finger, "No, NO, Marissa! That is too far this time!" you stomp your way towards the door, shoulders rising upwards and tight, I can't believe she has the audacity to say such a thing. "PLEASE," Marissa runs up, gripping your arm, nearly on her knees begging, "let me explain... I-I have evidence." Your heat drops at her sincerity, the way her large tearful eyes grip your own, forcing you to take a seat again as she pulls open her phone- your hand flying to your mouth in shock.

You look at the various articles she has saved to her camera roll, the dates of the murders lining up with the most recent trips of your husband. "This could only be a coincidence right?" Marissa does not say a word, simply flipping her phone horizontally and pressing play to a news broadcast recording:

"Witnesses have identified the assassin to be a 6ft male with an athletic build. Crime investigators have released the following identikit based upon multiple accounts and ask that if you have any information on where the killer is or where they plan on going to contact local and world police immediately for the safety of the greater public."

You feel sick, head falling between your knees as you shake and cry, knowing that illustration to be hauntingly similar to the love of your life... or so you thought him to be.

Marissa rubs your back in soothing circling motions before looking towards the door and whispering her next words to you carefully, "Please, come with me tonight. Say that something happened with my family and that I need your support. We'll pack and bag and get you out," you nod along, lost in your thoughts and not quite catching her words- ears ringing from overstimulation, the clothes on your body soon feel to hot as you grip your skin in panic.

"I-I he wouldn't lie to me this way... he said he-he loved me?" you hiccup in between cries, now walking around in circles within the small space- wavering on the line of hysteria. "I have to go talk to him, this is a misunderstanding, they have the wrong accounts, they, they..." you shake your head, trying to clear your mind to no avail.

Marissa stands, gripping your shoulders, shaking you, begging you to listen to her, "Please, stay with me for tonight at least. I don't feel safe leaving you here with him, not with what we both know... he could kill us if he knows... we know..." You fall over, back into the cushions, your head feeling to heavy for your body as your spots of black start to cloud over your vision. "M-Marissa?" you beg for what you don't know as she hugs you, begging you to stand and move with her.

"Please, we have to go now. Stop the tears, we must leave-"

"I-I can't!" you shout before watching as her eyes widen, the sounds of the other guests dying down from your outburst. A knock sounds at the door, your heart drops... you both allow a moment to pass before another knock sounds, more rushed and heavy against the wood, "my love? are you alright in there?"

Charles. You and Marissa both share a look, you swallow deeply- clearing your throat, "I'm alright Charles, just an wardrobe malfunction." You hear as your... husband chuckles, "alright, I have a plate of food waiting for you by the pool."

"Thank you, darling!" you shout back before hearing as his footsteps become distant. You let out a breath you didn't know to be holding as Marissa pulls you up, wiping your face with her towel, determination in her eyes. "We. are. leaving." You nod, not trusting your words as you follow her outside, wincing at the light coming into your eyes and heart.

─────── · ·

─ · · You walk swiftly pass the crowd and upstairs, throwing the closet open to find a duffle bag as you begin to pack a weeks worth of clothes. You stop yourself from grabbing one of Charles shirts to sleep in, your fingers twitching as your heartaches, you bite your lip to conceal a cry as your eyes well before turning towards the ensuite bathroom.

You startle bumping into a chest as arms steady you, hand brushing against your cheek as Charles stares down at you- worry clouding over his eyes as he takes in the sight of your tears. "Whats wrong?" he asks quietly, brushing your hair as you shake in his hold... knowing what those hands have done. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax in the memory of his touch before pulling away and heading towards the bathroom.

Charles stands there still where you left him, glaring at his reflection in the mirror of the closet before turning around determined to find out whatever or whomever made his darling wife cry. He leans against the doorframe watching as you grab a hairbrush and a few hair ties before brushing past him and throwing them into your luggage- hands shaking as you zip it closed and place it over your shoulder.

But just before you can reach the door, Charles picks you up in his arms, you scream, and places you on the bed- standing at the foot with his arms crossed. "Running away from our issues only prolongs them. What. is. wrong?" he asks, muscles flexing as he forces himself not to physically comfort you seeing as you flinch from every slight sound you hear. Who scared you? What do I need to do in order to protect you? The Jackal thinks to himself, foot tapping in wait.

You sound out the party happening down stairs, focusing solemnly on your breathing, "I-I have to help Marissa with somethings. Her family, things went badly and she needs me?" you try and lie yet your words appear more like a question.

Your husband sighs, head tilting to the side as he analyzes your form, eye twitching... no, she couldn't know that. I've hid it well and no one else would know in the slightest... You watch every small expression tick over his features, shifting in your spot watching as he does the same, mirroring your movements- you feel trapped knowing that Charles was not going to let you leave... not without the truth nevertheless.

You look outside, hoping to catch Marissa's eyes to come and save you yet can see no sights of her. Your bag drops to your feet as you grip your hair, Am I ready to die? You ask yourself, thoughts automatically going to the darkest parts of your mind before you suddenly remember your conversation last night in the kitchen...

─────── · ·

You press your forehead against his own, closing your eyes, "Charles, my love. I would forgive you even if you shot me. No need to worry," You joke in a loving tone- not understanding to the way the Jackal tenses feeling your touch. Visions of your corpse flashing before his eyes with life-like accuracy as he begins to feel queasy, shaking in your hold.

You pull away once feeling him start to breath heavily. His touch falling from your hand to grip the kitchen counter, knuckles turning white as he sees you look up at him with tear-covered eyes, his hand shakes with the trigger- "Charles?" you call out softly, hand hovering over his cheek, feeling as he flinches at the touch, taking a step away while shaking his head to himself before appearing... scarily calm again.

─────── · ·

Shit, you think to yourself... his prior actions all making sense now. You timidly look into his eyes, purposefully trying to make yourself appear small... make him feel the heart you have loved ever-so dearly up until this point, and to some degree, you still do for the years of affections you both have shared.

"Tell me what you know," The Jackal asks calmly, your blood runs cold as he stares down at you, nose twitching, eyes daring you to try and lie again to him.

You open and close your mouth, unsure of what to say before letting lose knowing that you were not making it out of this room no matter what so you might as well do it with morals and truth. "I know you kill people," you begin to say.

The room is dead silent as you both stare into one another's eyes, "Tell me that you don't," you whisper, tears silently falling down your cheeks that you do your best to try and blink away resulting in only more coming. Yet in your husbands move not to answer you provides you with the most deafening answer yet... he does.

You shake your head, nails digging into your palms, threatening to break skin. You flinch again to his touch, feeling as the Jackal gently pulls your fingers away from hurting yourself- your heart hammers in your chest like a drum, you know he can hear it to by the way his head falls. "Tell me that you don't," you whisper-shot, shaking your head, confused as to how the soft and intelligent man you fell in love with, that you married and planed to have children with... kills people.

"I kill people for money," the Jackal whispers quietly, a part of hoping that you do not hear his words, that you would return to your smiling and loving self, taking him back with open arms- unknowing once more yet you understand what he says, "Listen to yourself and say it again," you demand of him.

The Jackal removes his touch, taking in a shaky deep breath, closing his eyes as his hands shake down by his sides into fists, you slowly crawl back on the bed, "I kill people for money," he says a bit louder. You scoff into a cry, "say it again."

"I kill people for money," the Jackal states picking up his head to look you in the eyes, his heart breaks seeing your tears, watching as you flinching when he moves to brush them away. You'e afraid of me, Charles thinks to himself. I've failed to protect you, the Jackal thinks to himself. You are shaking in your spot, "say it again, say it-"

"I KILL PEOPLE FOR MONEY. Is that what you want to hear? Is that enough? Is it enough?" The Jackal snaps at you before falling to his knees, head in your lap as an offering. You feel the way he grips your sides, sobbing into your skirt, pleading for you to love him. Yet you just stare forwards, looking out to the sun and all the people downstairs, your eyes catch Marissa's as you stand, his body rolling off of yours as he stays collapsed against the floor watching as you slowly pick up your bag and close the door on him.

─────── · ·

─ · · You felt disgusted for not being able to go to the police about your husband... or well ex-husband. You sent the divorce papers in at Marissas request after your first month out on the run from your heart but no matter where you seemed to go, what disguises or excuses you used when he would just find your new phone number again, you still loved him.

─ · · A part of you knew deep within that not every moment you shared together could be a lie. He trusted you to sleep beside him, to cook for him, to be his confidant to his "work rants," and spent his pay check on you... but he kills people... you think to yourself, 'only the bad people, promise,' you remember him telling you via letter to your mailbox during your first week in Australia where Marissa left you before returning back to Spain. You shake your head, confused with yourself; head and heart competing...

But when you saw golden locks out of the corner of your eye, green-eyes hidden behind tinted shades and tall muscular body draped in a fine linen suit... it would be an understatement to say you folded in the first seconds and fell back in love in the first moment when he picked up your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it and refused to let go, intertwining your fingers together on the table as he payed for lunch and all your drinks without a second thought.

And when it started to rain in Amsterdam where you were currently "hiding out," he draped his jacket over your shoulders and picked you up so that your feet wouldn't get wet in all the puddles and potholes. Carrying you all the back to the apartment you were renting, waiting at the door for you to invite him inside and you did.

─ · · You watched as he unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves to his forearms, veins flexing across his skin as he clenched and unclenched his hands when you moved past him to sit distantly on the couch. He thought about the comforting pressure of you on his lap, the feeling of your head on your shoulder and your lips against his own. He wanted nothing more than to feel your skin against his skin, to get a taste of you once more... but he allowed you space, for now... until things are safe... until the job is done, Charles thought to himself, taking a sip out of the tea you prepared for you both.

─ · · After some catching up on both of your sides, your concern grew not only for yourself and your safety, but for your husbands as he was being pinned down on two fronts. One by the police, the other by his target and his men... a part of you knew that your safety did relay on the Jackal getting his work done and knew that from you not going to the police right away, not protecting the 'public', you were in some part just as guilty as he- a participant... "let me help you.... please." And the Jackal nodded.

─────── · ·

─ · · Returning to Spain, the Jackal gave you a series of instructions and lists of where secret rooms, weapons, and security lockdown procedures he had installed for a moment that you had no clue existed before and never would have.

─ · · You shiver at how precisely Charles can check the various weapons on himself, flipping knives in his boots, checking his magazines and checking the sights down the barrel of his gun before giving you a kiss and telling you to go sit in the bedroom upstairs with the dog, waiting to flip a switch in the wardrobe at his request to cut all the power to the house through your earpiece.

You nodded, pulling him in for a second kiss, lingering before pulling away slightly and kissing all the way across his cheek to his ear, whispering, "live for me." You didn't receive a response, only a pat at your hit, silently demanding you to move as you pick up your furry companion and closed the bedroom door, putting on a record just like intersected... sitting still and looking pretty and innocent, just waiting on your husband to return.

─────── · ·

─ · · You didn't bother to look at the clock, watching as the minutes ticked over and the dog laid asleep at the foot of the bed. Your fingers running across the soft fur of their back only to startle as you hear your front door be blasted through and two pairs of boots stomp their way into your home. Your breath hitches as you quickly stand and look at the window seeing no addition people in the tree line.

You double check to ensure your door is closed before pressing down on your ear, listening closely for your queue... "Do you hear me darling?" Charle's soft tone floods your ear, you can hear him taking shallow long breaths in and out, most likely hiding somewhere in the walls. "yes," you whisper, starting to make your way into the closet- waiting... "flick the switch, gorgeous." Lights out!

─ · · You are suddenly surrounded in darkness as you tip toe your way back to the bed and place yourself on top of the covers, scrolling through your phone once hearing their boots near the door. The dog shuffles by your feet but does not move as the door creaks open and two flashlights are shined in your eyes, causing you both to stand alert. "HANDS UP!" a woman shouts, you wave your hands in the air. "P-please don't hurt me! Take whatever you want from the house!" you beg, tears starting to drown across your cheeks as you work to distract the women. "Please!" you beg over and over again dramatically, falling to your knees as your hands press against her boots.

"I'm here to protect you ma'am, just do as I say and we will have no issues," the woman in uniform tells you- you nod your head. "Stand," she demands and you oblige, rising to your feet and grabbing your pet in your arms. "Do you have any idea what your husband does?" she questions you, moving you both towards Charle's study and telling you to sit at his desk. You nod your head, hearing as her breath hitches, "he works in global sales for an insurance company," you explain.

"I can show you the new logos?" you ask confusing the woman. "No, I don't care about that... you are married to Charles Calthrop, correct?" You nod your head again, "Yes, that is my husband." The floor suddenly creaks down the hall, the woman turns around sharply, flashlight pointing down the hall as you hide underneath the desk in preparation yet hear no rounds fired.

Looking up slowly, the room and the hall now appear empty as you listen to boots run down the hall and turn down the stairs into the living room. "Stay where you are," Charles demand comes through your ear, "okay," you whisper, holding onto the dog closely as you brace, listening to the distant conversation and then... BANG... a pause... BANG BANG. Another two shots sound and then... silence once more.

"Good girl, you did your work perfectly, my love," Charles praises you before telling you to come downstairs with the luggage for you both. You feel as your husband quickly pulls you in for a hug, caressing your head in an effort for you not to see the body behind him. You feel as he kisses the top of your head, "All ready to go?" he asks you.

"I'm ready," you respond with determination.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: no part 2's to this one!

─ · · JACKAL TAGLIST: @swiftietevitdrewjew @groovyponypatrollamp @alelo23 @apaperflowerreader @itz-stuts

[the-dye-stained-socialite]

Hello Fallen London Fandom! I want to say something briefly. I've posted a few of my general Fallen London ideas here on tumblr, and people have gotten excited about them, which is great!

However! Less great is the fact them some people have been tagging (or just shouting into the void in the general direction of) Failbetter.

Don't do this:

(there have been more instances, these are simply the first three i found)

First of all: None of you asked me if this was okay. You are elevating my stuff to one of the people who works with this game in a way that I did not ask for, nor did I consent to!

Secondly: My ideas and concepts are not fair use, they are my own ideas and concepts that I came up with. If you as a friend or fan would like to do something with them, or create sonething inspired by or derivative of them, you can ask (and I'll probably say yes! I love sharing ideas with folks who are nice to me!!!) and of course credit that the idea came from me. If Failbetter staff would like to hire me someday to create ideas for them, then they can own the concepts I come up with for their game. As is, i am not being paid, and you are telling Hannah and crew to steal my ideas, pass them off as their own, and profit off of them. That is close to, or even directly, plagiarism. (edit: obviously i don't own general concepts and such, but some of these things are much more specific and developed! and sometime when you're making a point you generalize to get across the idea)

Third: This causes legal issues for the team, for the above point. Especially with a game where money is frequently involved. If you do this to your own post, someone else's post, anyone's post, and they see it? That's a decent way for that idea to never get implemented.

Fourth: Not every idea, headcanon, or fan theory needs approval from the creators. Fandom does not need to be directly intertwined with the creators. Personally, I have the most fun whenever I am actively not giving a damn about the creators, and simply enjoying the things they make in my own time, place, and peace. My monster-fucking, my dreams, my silly ideas I come up and create with friends are my own, and I don't need the creators' opinions or in-game implementation of these ideas!! I am not entitled to their game-making as a fan, and they are not entitled to my personal ideas, and that's okay!

and finally, Fifth: Remember there are real humans behind usernames. I am an entire person with nearly 25 years of lived experience. You do not know me. Don't be jokingly rude to strangers, because no matter how many /pos tags you add to something, it still comes off as rude! You cannot guarantee I interpret your words the same way you do, so be nice. Think about if you would go up to a random stranger in their house and say these things. Don't forget that you can always learn and improve and change for the better.

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

Oh and @duskdog thank you for ur fantastic tags on my other post it got me thinking about Bruce’s uniquely fucked up relationship with Tim and Stephanie, and Tim and Steph’s twin roles they play with how they vie for approval, and how Steph’s firing sort of starts setting up the stakes for her later actions, and I feel like a lot of those ideas actually start to come up in Robin #120. So I’m going to just ramble abt that now I guess.

Like, for one, we’re directed in multiple ways to compare Robin #120 and Steph’s firing in Gotham Knights #37.

Both Tim and Steph tell batman to “go to hell” in an almost identical speech bubble, the last thing Tim says while comforting Steph is “I know”, the exact same line Steph says last when she comforts Tim, and of course the fact that Steph herself brings up the similarity in situation directly.

Tim backstabs Steph for Bruce’s approval all the while asserting independence in Robin 106, and I feel like Robin #120 is almost a showcase of how his failure to follow through on his claims of independence bites him in the ass. (Maybe a little irony there. Maybe a little karma perhaps)

Tim does the same assertion of independence —> immediately concession thing when he tells Bruce he’s done and basically quits being Robin, only to change his mind completely and awkwardly continue on as Robin as if nothing had happened.

Tim basically proves again where his priorities lie: even its his turn to be the target of the most recent round of the Bruce Wayne’s Mind Games Wheel, he still comes back, he still fails to follow through.

Like, it sets a standard. Steph’s her own person, and I’m not trying to discredit her ability to think for herself here at all, but I think Tim’s choice to forsake his hurt over Batman’s mind game test and go back to Bruce sets a precedent. That this is just acceptable behavior if you want to be on Batman’s team. All I’m saying is this situation probably played some role in Steph’s willingness to pick up the Robin mantle despite her rocky history with Bruce. Steph herself is able to make this clear the connection between her own firing and Tim’s birthday gaslighting, and ergo, if Tim finds that behavior acceptable, if Tim can forgive and forget, if it doesn’t really matter, if Tim can move past it, then Steph should be able to do so too. It’s just part of working with Batman. I feel like that might set the stage for Stephanie’s ability to work under Batman again.

Probably a small factor, if one at all. And certainly not Tims fault really. But interesting to think about!

Additionally, I find the framing of roles so intriguing in Robin #120. Having Tim and Steph completely switch roles, (tricked by Batman becomes comforter, comforter becomes tricked by Batman) with all the corresponding dialogue switching with them (“I know”/“go to hell”) it kinda paints a grim picture.

Like on one hand, it’s nice that they have each other, and it’s horrible that they’re both so easily thrown from victim to comforter because the same man cannot and will not stop playing mind games with these teenagers.

And this moment is especially cool given how Tim and Stephanie are characters who are often shown in contrast to one another. They are contrasted in personality, contrasted in morality, contrasted in relationships with other characters, etc. something established both in Robin 1993 and also I feel picked up on in the fan sphere.

And for once, in Robin #120, they are not really being contrasted so much as directly compared to one another. They say the same words. They fit the same roles. They both are dealing with this same shitty Bat. They’re almost interexchangable, with how aligned their words and feelings seem to be.

But on the other hand, for me at least, Robin #120 also kinda really draws out the differences in the roles they are playing.

In GK37, Tims role as the comforter is perverted by the knowledge he has (and had) which Stephanie does not (and did not). He facilitated (unintentionally or not) the encounter Batman and Steph have. He chose to keep her in the dark, and he chose to lie to her. Of course, who knows what would have happened if Tim had warned Steph on his own, or even if he just hadn’t lied to Steph, their encounter could have very well gone the same way.

But regardless of that, Tim’s role is still not really pure. It’s a shitty situation for Tim to be in, sure, but his ability to comfort Steph is tainted by how he maintains the illusion that he had no clue this was going to happen to Steph, instead of the truth: he had clear advance warning.

And then in Robin #120, the tables are turned.

Now. I’m not really saying this was karma for him lying to Steph. But I’m also not not saying that.

But, I mean, Steph is comforting him, commiserating with his pain and mentioning her own shitty similar experiences and Tim Drake just sits there, seemingly trying to change the subject and ignoring entirely the (albeit unintentional) role he played in that particular mind game.

He should feel a little shitty about that, and I’m not sorry for saying it. He should feel guilty in that moment.

Almost certainly not Lewis’s intention, by the way, but I’ll read into whatever. I will say that no matter what, the parallels between GK37 and Robin #120 and definitely there, and I assume there for a reason.

[tackykachowch]

Okay I'll write a post because I might go insane writing everything I want to say in tags lol

!!!!!!! Y E S

At the start I also thought that for Jinx's sake Silco would give up fighting and really end up like Vander. But as my understanding of his character deepened - yeah no way in hell he would do that. If you look up the word "Determination" in the dictionary you'll find his photo instead of the definition (I'm SO genuine when I say that I admire him so much for that).

But why did he tell Vander that "everything makes sense now"? I think he meant it in a sense that daughters made them change their core beliefs. Only Vander changed them completely, while Silco only made a slight change - instead of sacrificing everything for the cause, he can sacrifice everything except Jinx. That's it. He'll still fight to his last breath for Zaun, use every method and tool at his disposal, tear his way to the freedom with his teeth. Because that's who Silco is, and he will stay that way no matter what. He won't ever have enough.

Also I don't really agree with "Silco doesn't love Jinx enough to completely forget and forgo his mission" op. In a sense that abandoning everything that matters to you at your core for another person isn't really "love" in the first place. It's some deep and complicated feeling that mistakenly gets labeled as love, but it's not it. Love is about compromise and willingness to walk in each other's shoes, and yes, some sacrifice, but not a complete renunciation. At the same time, he does say to Jinx that he "wouldn't give (her) to (Piltover), not for anything), which probably also includes Zaun, but it would probably be his very last resort. Until then, there won't be a second when he doesn't fight.

I don't like how people are always so quick to draw comparisons between Vander and Silco, especially when it comes to their kids and goals, because I feel like it just too greatly simplifies them. "In the end silco became just like Vander!" ERM. I can see how you got to that conclusion, but no. Personally it makes me feel uncomfortable. Silco was unable to agree with Jayce's peace treaty because it required giving up Jinx and that was something he was unwilling to do. This does mirror how Vander was unwilling to give up his kids to the enforcers, but that is where this similarity ends. Because even tho he wasn't able to take Jayce's deal, that DOESN'T MEAN Silco gave up on zaun. He didn't. He never did and he never would have. Had he survived, he would have tried to find another way to get the nation of zaun. In stark contrast, Vander gave up on the idea of an independent zaun the day of the bridge. His desire to protect his people made him completely turn on his beliefs. Silco would never do this. Silco would rather shit in his hands and clap before ceasing his fight with Piltover at the drop of a hat.

Silco loves Jinx enough to let an opportunity for independence pass him by, but he does not love her enough to completely forget and forgo his mission. Vander loves his kids enough to abandon and scorn his own beliefs, but he does not love his kids enough to see the merit in the fight for a free zaun and how that would benefit his kids. Recall that in episode 3, Silco offered Vander a way out. He basically said "I can kill you, or you can join me." Vander KNEW how dangerous silco could be, would be if given the chance, yet he declines Silco's offer. "Kill me if you must, but spare the lanes." He also asks Silco to spare his children. Me personally, if I know my choice had the potential of leading to the harm of my children, I'd make sure I'd choose the choice that led to the least amount of harm. Vander probably should have taken Silco's deal for the sake of the safety of his kids, and yet he flat out refuses silco.

[marchingbandtshirt]

Working concepts for protogens Four-Oh-Three and its tentative ally Salvage

[tubbytarchia]

I swear to god 99% of people watching WL forgot who won SL. Put some respect on his name

[serpentface]

Full ref outline of the main White Calf characters, a dysfunctional noble family and two monks, all tied with the titular sacrificial wild oxen calf.

Left to right: Couya Haidamane, Faiza Haidamane, Janeys Haidamane, Hibrides Haidamane (née Uryashta), Brakul 'Red-Dog', Palo Apolynnon, Tigran Otto.

Design notes and very brief character summaries below the cut

Couya Haidamane

Odonii priestess, assigned to the sacrificial white calf, pretty sure that God has chosen her as Its emissary. Half sister to Faiza and Janeys. Constantly three seconds away from killing Janeys with a rock. Friends with Hibrides.

Has an awkward demeanor, doesn't talk much, borderline humorless, both intentionally and inadvertently intimidates those around her, regarded as strange and unsettling, very much in her own head most of the time.

32 years old.

Wardi and Titen-Wardi, born and raised in the city of Wardin.

5’9’, yellow-brown eyes, light brown hair, lanky muscular build

Usually wears a men’s styled robe.

Wears a standard issue Odonii's veil and headband.

Almost always carrying her pistol with no sheath, and usually positions it to be prominently exposed.

Often wears her hair unbraided, which is somewhat unconventional.

Terminal resting bitch face and signature cold, dead eyed stare.

Has a mole on the left side of the face, above the lip.

Routine bloodletting scars on the side of her left index finger.

Doesn't wear jewelry unless she has to.

Faiza Haidamane

Senior Odonii priestess, personal friend of the king and a de-facto leader of the pilgrimage, sister of Janeys and half sister to Faiza. Just desperately trying to make sure everything goes alright.

Skilled with diplomacy, shrewd and pragmatic, charismatic and confident, has a bit of a martyr complex about protecting those around her and enjoys power.

35 years old.

Wardi and Titen-Wardi, born and raised in the city of Wardin.

5’6’’, gray eyes, brown hair, wiry build

Hair is almost always braided and worn down the front.

Wears a standard issue Odonii's veil and headband.

Likes to keep her arms bare, and usually wears her cloak around the waist outside of blazing sun or very cold conditions.

Wears a lapis lazuli necklace

Has a serpent pelatoche bracelet she wears on her left wrist, a gift from the king Stavis Amanti.

Really likes the color blue (blue clothing is typical wear for Odonii but it's a thing for her specifically)

Routine bloodletting scars on her lower left forearm.

Janeys Haidamane

Unaccomplished wealthy brat mercenary, is in command of 25 soldiers entirely due to nepotism via Faiza. Married to Hibrides and sworn brother/lover to Brakul.

Generally regarded as unpleasant and an all-around jackass, perpetually anxious and spiteful, superstitious and intensely religious, low self esteem.

34 years old.

Wardi and Titen-Wardi, born and raised in the city of Wardin.

5’6’’, gray eyes, brown hair, wiry and stocky build

Upper arms, thighs, chest and back are covered in razor scars inflicted by Brakul.

He and Brakul have a matching scar through their left eyebrow.

Routine bloodletting scars on his palms and left thumb.

Hair is usually worn slicked back with (obnoxiously scented) oil. When untreated, it’s wavy and falls in a part down the middle.

Has sideburns and a thin beard on his chin. This is the full extent of facial hair he can grow.

Almost always wearing at least one pelatoche charm, usually as a cloak clasp.

He and Faiza look very alike and can pass for twins.

He and Couya share a signature dead eyed stare

Hibrides Uryashta

Daughter of an Erubinnos chancellor, brought along with the wives of noblemen attending the pilgrimage. Miserably married to Janeys. Has a strained platonic emotional affair with Brakul. Friends with Couya.

Shy and somewhat lonely, very nervous about her presentation, very intelligent, frequently condescending, puts up a serious and tough front but is very sensitive. Heavily germaphobic.

5’2’’, hazel eyes, dark brown hair, delicate build

Yuroma-Wardi, born and raised in the city of Erubinnos.

29 years old.

Always well protected from the sun, rarely seen outside without a hat or veil.

Her hair is kept in very long braids, worn down the back.

Wears closed toed high heeled shoes, which keep the wearer away from dirty city streets.

Usually bedecked in jewelry, especially fond of pearls. Has a particularly fine odatochent necklace.

Really likes wading birds and ducks, a lot of her clothes have bird motifs.

Routine bloodletting scars on her right thumb.

Brakul 'Red-Dog' (actual full title- Brakul virsum Kuligan et Borunil an Briyonis ne-Taig an Bict-Urbinnas)

Originally of the Bict-Urbinnas people and considered a 'heathen' by most compatriots, mercenary with a passion for riding sports. Mostly present on the pilgrimage due to nepotism by proxy. Illegitimate father of Hibrides' children, sworn brother/lover of Janeys.

Usually quiet and placid, calculating and thoughtful, prone to startlingly intense emotional outbursts and fits of melancholy and just really fucking annoying self-pity.

37 years old.

Bict-Urbinnas, born and raised in southeastern Greathill in the Erubin River Valley.

6’2’’, brown eyes, light red-brown hair, heavyset muscular build.

Doesn’t particularly like cloaks, and usually wears a less common tunic over his robes.

Has tattoos- clan identifiers on his face and family history on his upper arms, a purely decorative dog over his heart.

Usually keeps his arms covered in public to minimize annoying questions about aforementioned tattoos

Face and forehead is frequently sunburnt, a problem of his own creation (he doesn’t like hats)

Usually wears riding boots and spurs.

Head shaved close to the scalp

His upper arms, shoulders, chest, back and thighs are covered in razor scars inflicted by Janeys. The dog tattoo is avoided.

Matching eyebrow scarification with Janeys.

Palo Apolynnon

Newly initiated Galenii monk, son of glass traders from Godsmouth, assigned with Tigran to the sacrificial white calf.

Thoughtful and analytical, somewhat catty and vain, suspicious of others and slow to trust. He's going through several personal crises that have him under a lot of stress, and has a fairly pleasant (if guarded) personality under normal circumstances.

23 years old.

Kos-Wardi, childhood spent in the imperial city of Godsmouth with a few years in Kosov.

5’10’’, brown eyes, light ash-brown hair, very skinny, lanky build

Has dark purplish-gray patches on his skin from use of hidije in his youth, an (ineffective) alchemical treatment for epilepsy

Only wears his sunglasses in particularly bright conditions/around water (having picked up on sunlight on water being a trigger)

Large forehead and long face.

Benefits socially from not being visually identifiable as a eunuch, though his facial hair has stopped growing.

Usually keeps his hair in a single braid, wrapped around the front (somewhat unconventional)

Has one iron ring per ear, showing he is a 1 year Galenii initiate.

Usually wearing a standard issue Galenii robes, cloak, and sash.

Tigran Otto

Galenii monk since the age of 11, son of immigrant Ubiyan laborers, assigned with Palo to the sacrificial white calf.

Nervous, cowardly, impulsive, a fast and excessive talker, superstitious, very book-smart but devastatingly foolish in action.

19 years old.

Ubiyan, born in a farming village on the Brilla river, has lived in the city of Wardin since the age of 11.

4’11’’, brown eyes, brown hair, short and heavyset build

Perpetually sweaty

He has five iron rings per ear, a sign of a fully initiated Galenii.

His features are considered soft and androgynous, and he is easily visually identified as a eunuch.

Keeps his head shaved to stubble.

Usually wearing a standard issue Galenii robes, cloak, and sash.

Wears a Galenii ceremonial dagger and routinely takes it out to fidget with it.

[lunarharp]

just tiresome scribblings today...a Slug

[kingly-court]

I’m legitimately gonna explode if I don’t find someone else who understand the background tragedy of the Gleeful Family in Gravity falls.

[biblically-accurate-dca]

nessa in the bun suit

[spaceyfeline]

i know i dont post anything to tumblr ever usually but uhhhthe autism has me by the throat? so. noncanon siffrin family!! first image has siffrin having a great ole breakdown after finding a drawing he did of him & his family (when he was like. 7 lol) in a glass bottle, second photo is of their younger sister, phoebe! color (and a shitpost) + more information on the family under the cut

so phoebe. dear darling girl. she's rock-paper type and is super into research and stuff! like a scientist but she can kick your ass. love her a lot. she's about 6 years younger than siffrin is!

also in the drawing that i didn't mention is siffrin and phoebe's parents, mama rhea (she/her, left, missing an eye!) and baba dione (they/them, right) i love these guys so much. yes all of them are named after saturn's moons, thank lati @cryptidlatias for them (siffrin's born name was janus. none of them remember that, though.)

[swordmaid]

i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…

[dukeofthomas]

"Angry robin" "violent robin" "misbehaving robin" shut up and accept my alternative; spunky Robin. Determined and head strong, can out-stubborn the Batman, has a strong moral-backbone and does what he thinks is right regardless of what anybody else says, Robin. Jason who was sassy and quippy and made crude jokes with a smile on his face. Jason who hid in Bruce's cape and whispered gossip to him. Jason who, if Bruce refused him something, could keep bothering endlessly until Bruce caved. And also dramatic Jason. If Bruce tells him no, it becomes a whole theatrical show; a monologue, a narration, embellishments, and falling onto the floor in his grief upon the fact his cruel father has denied him once again.

(Jason who has suffered through abuse and homelessness and poverty and starvation, who is the Fight out of Fight or Flight, who's built up defenses and walls and when pushed and triggered responds with the thing that's always protected him; anger. He's sweet and kind and funny, and when he sees a pimp hitting a prostitute he gets furious and responds with violence.)