#i was born in this hole and i'll die in this hole

[rockatanskette]

Living in the USAmerican South is sad, but not (only) for the reasons you think. I had a meeting last week with a faculty member at a university with one of the only fully-funded creative writing MFAs in the country. A fully funded Master in Fine Arts program is funded entirely by the university: tuition, living expenses, with a stipend. They pay you to go to school there, in a country that charges upward of $120 grand for a three-year MFA. 600 people a year apply for the fewer than a dozen spots in this program.

When I asked what I could do to make myself stand out, he said, "The fact that you already live here may help." Because when people get accepted to this golden-ticket program, the politics of the South forces them elsewhere. And that breaks my fucking heart.

To be clear, I use the word "forces" incredibly intentionally. I fully understand how hostile Southern legislation and politics is to basically anyone who isn't a wealthy Christian cishet White man. I've lived here almost all my life as a queer Jewish person who can get pregnant—I've experienced a measure of that hostility firsthand.

But I've also experienced love and respect and compassion and community that goes undocumented because it's so damn ordinary. It's everywhere.

I think the community is the part that kills me, because minority groups in the South only get talked about on a national scale when we're the victims of crimes, which does a great disservice to the magnitude and depth of community in the South; the queer communities, the Black communities, the Jewish communities, the Muslim communities, the Latine and Indigenous and Desi and the list keeps on going. These demographics aren't outliers just because White supremacists say they are—they're the fucking fabric of the South. 56 percent of the Black population of the United States lives in the South; almost half the population of the state of Texas is Latine or Hispanic; Southern cities make up half the ten largest US populations of Indian-Americans, Pakistani-Americans, Irani-Americans, and honestly I could keep going. Do I even have to talk about Jews in Florida? I swear half of them go to my babushka's synagogue. Queer populations are historically harder to get a clear census of, but you bet your ass we're here too.

And, many of us are here on purpose, which is the part where I start turning my heartbreak into anger. Because do you know how fucking painful it is when you're venting about the evilest people on the planet making it basically illegal to live in the place you call home and your cousin from Jersey tells you to just move, already? I don't want to move. All my shit is here: my mountains and my swamps and my barbecue and my temple and the first girl I ever kissed and my favorite lesbian bar and my trans best friend and rodeos and biscuits and bourbon and blues and the random Yee Yee boy who followed me out of a bar in the rain at midnight the other night to tell a visibly queer me that I was driving with my trunk open and offered to close it so I didn't have to get out of my car. Which was terrifying until it became incredibly sweet.

Some of the best people I know live in the South. We are so much more and so much stronger than tokens and victims and if you think the South is populated entirely—or even mostly—by conservative White hicks, you're buying into a fascist racist queerphobic lie fueled by gerrymandering and the for-profit prison system. There are plenty of queer and liberal and leftist hicks of color down here, too, and we don't need the rest of the country siding with the Nazis in charge. Tell them to get out.

The faculty member I spoke to is an award-winning writer who has been compared to Langston Hughes, Etheridge Knight, and Gwendolyn Brooks. He grew up in a predominantly Black neighborhood in the North, then attended school in New England and the Pacific Northwest. He wasn't born in the South, but he lives here now.

I laughed when he said that living in the South might give me an advantage; partly at the irony, but partly because, "I'm not leaving the South until they make me. I learned that when I tried living in England for a year and spent the whole time wishing the US had free healthcare and trains. I love this place. I want to make it better."

He smiled a smile I've seen echoed in the faces of so many people who live their lives seeing raw beauty in a place dismissed as ugly and unsalvageable. It's tinged with sadness but born of joy.

"Yeah. I know exactly what you mean."

[aercnaut]

given the fact the hellsite is once more being hellshite, a reminder that i don't unfollow, i soft bloc. if we're suddenly not mutuals, please let me know so i can refollow you.

[charlie-ver]

Hey, you, the trans man reading this - I love you. I know there's posts like this, but I got down a bad rabbit hole last night and I think there's not enough nice posts towards trans men (:

I don't care if you've finished you transition, on won't be ever able to reach the changes you would like. I don't care if you've been on T for years, or just started, or won't be for some years, or can't or don't want to be. I do not care how you dress. I don't care if you want to be pregnant and have children one day. I don't care if you want hysterectomy and don't even want to freeze your eggs (Hell knows I am not freezing anything). I do not care if you want bottom surgery or if you love what you were born with. Because it doesn't matter and doesn't take away from your identity.

Gay trans men? You aren't just confused straight girls. You are valid in your gender AND sexuality. Straight trans men? You aren't a betrayal the moment you are no longer misgendered. You're still welcome in lgbtqia+ spaces. Because you're a part of our community. One does not lose their place the moment they are perceived and cis or cishet.

Cis men have heard it before, but they won't admit it. All this "if you like x you must be a girl" really just feels like repackaged "if you like x you must be gay". Wanna hear a secret?

HOBBIES, JOBS AND FAVORITE THINGS DO NOT HAVE GENDER.

I like botanical gardens. I love plants. I like looking at clothing, room decor, fabric stores sometimes catch my eye. Because I am am artist, and I take inspiration from these and many more things. Plant care and gardening is not a "red flag" for a trans man in my humble and trans opinion, but it's a sign that you have love to give. And that's beautiful. Just like liking these things does not indicate that a man is gay, it does not mean that your internal identity is any different.

Do not let the world put rails on your patch to your own masculinity. And if you have to hide, that's okay. If you can only be yourself online, that's okay. Trans people will always be here. Trans men will always be here. The best thing you can do is to live as safely as you can. I know this can come off as condescending from a European who has nothing to fear personally, except violence for one month in the year, because my way of being trans isn't "obvious", but I try to take it that my safety means I can try to reassure the rest of you, while you can just focus on your own misery and don't have to be strong for anyone but yourself.

If you need a safe place to went, come to my asks. If you don't want me to post them and just read them, that's ok. You can be angry, you can vent, you can cry, do whatever you need, but, obviously, no transphobia or anything (: Special love goes out to trans men who are of the aroace spectrum, because honestly, the aroace discourse never seems to die, it's just dismissed. Reminds me of something. Hm (: I wonder.

Anyhow. Come to me to cry, for a virtual hug, for a distraction, if you'd like. Feel free to ask for art. Want me to draw your trans characters with flags? I can do that, for free, for you. Ask or dm is enough (: Art and listening is the best I can do, but I'll do my best to do it well.

I love you. You deserve to live, you deserve to be happy, and you also are wholly entitled to cry, to complain, to be sad, angry, loud, afraid. You are a human being with emotions, you deserve to feel them. Nobody can tell you what your internal identity, what your gender is. Because nobody else can know that. Only you can.

So let me repeat: It does not matter how you dress, whether you are on T, whether you want surgeries or love your body as is, whether you are skinny, fat, or muscular, what accessories and clothes you wear, how your voice sounds, how you act, how you carry yourself and what you like. The only thing that matters is how you feel. And while we're at it, yes, you may change your mind, but it still doesn't invalidate your identity in the moment. There was a time where I thought I was biromantic, but I dropped that because I wasn't, and nobody gave me shit for it. Because nobody should. Whatever you feel right now? Valid. Do you identify at a trans man but don't use he/him? Valid. Do you identify with more genders? Are you maybe a man only sometimes? Or are you more at the same time? All of that is valid, if you feel like a man in some aspect or on some part, you are one, if that's a label you want. If your gender makes more sense as a man, then yeah, you are one. Nothing else but how you feel matters.

I love you, and again, I'm here for you if you need that. I can only listen and draw a little something for you, but maybe that's enough for some. If it can help a bit, I can do it for you.

Anyone derailing this post will be blocked. I have no patience for derailers.

[roboticchibitan]

Please tell me about the bees

Oh no you have activated my trap card

Honeybee facts:

Honeybees are native to Eurasia and are not naturally found in North America. There are stingless bees in south America and Mexico that produce honey but they are a different taxonomic class than honeybees

The way you check for varroa mites (a parasite common with honeybees) is absolutely hilarious to me. You take a half a cup of bees (scooped with a measuring cup, which is hilarious) and put them in a jar. Then dump a bunch of powdered sugar in the jar. Then you cover the jar with a screen. And then. You just. Shake the jar a bunch until the bees are covered in powdered sugar. Then you turn the jar upside down and shake out the powdered sugar and look for mites in it. If you have more than 5 you have and infestation. Bees. Shaken, not stirred. It doesn't hurt the bees and you just put them back in the hive and the other bees eat the sugar on them. They're fine. But the mental image of shaking a jar full of bees and powdered sugar is just so funny.

Importing honeybees into the US is illegal so a while back researchers at WSUs bee lab went overseas to collect bee semen so they can breed calmer more disease resistant honeybees. I desperately wish I could find the article I read about it because the photo in it of a tiny vial of bee semen was also hilarious

Honeybees can get jet lag. They ran an experiment where they flew European bees to north America and the bees woke up for the day on European time

Cursed honeybee facts

Bees have hair growing out of their eyes

When a male bee mates his testicles explode and he dies. He came and went

In preparation for winter the worker bees kick all the drones out of the hive and then seal up the hive with propolis and leave the drones to die in the cold

Bumblebee facts

You can teach bumblebees to do tricks. They did a study in the UK where they rewarded bees for pushing a ball into a hole and then tested to see if the bees could teach other bees and they could! (You can download videos of bees doing tricks from that link btw. You're welcome)

There are no bumblebees south of the Sahara or in Australia because it's too hot for them. The only bumblebees native to the southern hemisphere are in south America.

They think bumblebees evolved in the mountains of central Asia and that's where the biggest diversity of bumblebee species is

There was a bumblebee native to where I was born called Franklin's Bumblebee that is thought to be extinct, but people still go up into the mountains looking for them and they are my favorite bee and I have a tattoo of one because I think that says a lot about humanity's capacity for hope. And they COULD still be out there. We've found "extinct" bees out there living their best little bee lived before!! (Here's the tattoo)

Random other bee facts

There's a bee native to the southwestern US and northern Mexico called the sunflower chimney bee and they're called that because they feed off composite flowers like sunflowers and build little mud tunnels as entrances to their nests in the ground. No one knows why they do that! But I think they're neat!!!

There's bees native to the southwestern US desert that have evolved to have body temps of 103°F/39°C

Most bees do not live in social colonies like honeybees do. Most bees are solitary, meaning each female makes her own nest and lays her own eggs. Tho some solitary bees will nest very near each other

We are learning that bees native to north America like blue orchard bees and blueberry Mason bees are more effective crop pollinators than honeybees, especially for early spring crops when it's still too cold for honeybees to be out and about.

This has been bee info dump time with V. Tune in next time and I'll talk about blue bees!

[shares-a-vest]

Eddie reaches for Steve's fruity-scented shampoo - the stuff he swears he hasn't been using each and every time he stays over. He pops the cap and then the lights go out.

He screams bloody murder and drops the shampoo bottle. He kicks it and presses his palms against the nearest surfaces. One on the tiled wall, the other on the glass as he does everything to stop himself from moving his feet because, if he trips on that fucking fruity shampoo that makes Steve's hair oh-so-silky, he'll go slipping and sliding straight through the glass and into the goddamn toilet.

And he cannot die like that, buck-naked as the day he was born.

Though, if he absolutely had to die in the nude, he'd want it to be while he's railing someone six ways from Sunday...

Preferably the hunk who is bursting in through the bathroom door and waving a flashlight right in his eyes.

Steve opens the shower and reaches in to shut off the water. Eddie palms around and grips his boyfriend's wrist, impossibly warm despite now being wet.

"Are you... uh..." Steve drops the light enough from him to stop spluttering about. Eddie blinks hard, regaining enough focus to find a sly smile tugging at the corner of Steve's lips as he attempts to be serious, "Um, are you okay?"

Alright, maybe falling head-first into the toilet would have been a little less embarrassing than this: Steve staring back at him and snickering. He cups his junk and grumbles.

"Towel?" he spits, holding out one hand.

"Sorry," Steve says as he hands the brown (seriously, why do the Harrington's enjoy brown so much) towel over, "It's just you looked like you were in the middle of some naked jumping-jacks."

"Stevie, I was terrified," he retorts, drying off his arms and hands first so he can get a better grip on anything so he can safely get out of the damn shower before it becomes a fogged-up glass tomb.

But Steve places the flashlight tight under one arm and spots him, hovering one hand and placing the other on his dripping wet hip.

"I know," he soothes, now completely serious, "I was scared too."

Eddie doesn't care that he is mostly wet and that his hair is completely soaked, he goes right into Steve's strong arms, feeling his navy-blue sweater quickly dampen between them. Steve maneuvers around to stop their bodies from completely blocking their light source and hugs him tight.

"So stupid," Eddie can't help but mutter, "How am I more scared of the fucking dark than I was when I was six? Besides, how do you even lose power out here in Richie Richville?"

"Well, considering this house is surrounded by trees," Steve shrugs, "We lose power quite easily in bad weather," he pulls back enough to give a dangerously-teasing smirk considering Eddie's state of undress, "Thought you'd enjoy some candles and what-not, anyway. Doesn't Bilbo Baggins scurry around his cottage with a candlestick?"

Now it's Eddie's turn to move away as he hurriedly wraps the towel around himself - to protect his modesty. Yeah... that.

"Excuse me?" he exclaims, "He lives in a Hobbit hole, for one. And I'll have you know his home is well-lit."

"Come on!" Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes and taking his hand.

He leads them back into his bedroom, which at least has some moonlight peaking in from the windows. And yeah, now Eddie can really hear the source of the power outage. The wind outside and the trees that shroud Loch Nora sound like a goddamn tornado.

"Though I think Rivendell surely must have had some sort of electricity," he wonders aloud as he attempts to focus on something else.

"We can debate the infrastructure of Middle Earth later," Steve chuckles and promptly shoves a pair of sweatpants into his hands.

Eddie steps forward, smiling bashfully.

"You mean it?" he coos, biting the 't'.

Steve's eyes flick to his lips as he bites his own, "I can think of a few things we could do that don't involve the power being on."

Eddie opens his mouth, readying himself for a lame line about their palpable electricity that will probably make Steve laugh when the damn radio crackles.

If a physical object could be a boner-killer, it's the damn radio Steve currently has attached to his hip.

"Steeeve is the power out at your house, overrr!" Dustin screeches the moment Steve fishes it from his back pocket.

"Yes, over," Steve answers. He holds a finger up, silently asking Eddie to wait as they make no attempt to move an inch from each other's personal space, "I'mfine-okaygoodbye!"

He clicks the radio off completely and tosses it on his dresser, paying no mind to the fact it sends his Little League trophy toppling onto the carpet.

[thatnonameuser]

I always have a spot for "Peepaw" Lilia, Alongside his war days self but I wonder what happens if the role of the Platonic!yandere turns.. Romantic? Reunion for feeling that living spark that he once had when he was young for his Childhood Friends.

What if he's not aiming for the young yuu that the younglings are hunting down, especially if he's also trying to be matchmaker for his sons... but A hidden older darling in Ramshackle that he stumbled upon while a potion/ Spell mishap? (Turning to a tiny bat, turning a ghost, teleportation, etc). 

Their child Yuu is out there, and Here they are recovering from– something? Where woes and common ground being a parent comes in play?

Before I begin, all the Lilia lovers out there. The reason I don't want to write Lilia as a romantic yandere for the MC in the yandereverse, is because Lilia is the equivalent of 70 in the TWST World and MC is at youngest 18. That's just makes me too uncomfortable for me to write.

But for an older darling, I can do that....

For this I'll be using Yuu for the MC, ____ is you. Also, the reader is the parent/older sibling of Yuu.

Lilia is no stranger to the craziness that comes out of one's love for their one true love.

It was much wilder in the olden days. Back when duels to the death were much more common. It's for the best the times have changed. The very last thing he wants to experience is having to pick between his boys should their fight for human Yuu grow out of hand.

Things have changed for the better these days.

But he wishes he'd made the decision to fight for Maleanor back when she was alive. The hole in his heart from that loneliness and grief has carved a hole in him that not even his fatherly love for Malleus and Silver can fill.

He's expected to die with that hole craving him clean through.

But it seems Maleanor didn't head back to stars just yet.

He was never one to follow the darling reincarnation belief after her death. All his years of travel during his search for information killed that belief dead, before it ever came to life. That was until he found you.....

He wasn't expecting to find you when he did. He wasn't expecting to find you at all.

In fact, he'd been following Malleus on one of his little walks dates. Yuu's rejection of his love was harsh, but Malleus was always so kind at heart. Poor boy always yearned for love. And he would get that love, all Yuu needs is a push, or rather a very harsh and painful shove.

That was his plan for the night. Go and nudge force Yuu in the right direction.

Malleus teleported back to Diasomnia, he'd calm his temper when he returned later.

And that's when it happened.

He'd known that besides Grim, Yuu wasn't the only one that lived in Ramshackle, but he was yet to see the other person. And now he did.

The foolish Yuu retreats back to the safety of their dorm. And an another one comes out.

And for the first time in four hundred years, his heart feels full again. He feels whole, at just the sight of them. That same pull that he'd felt back in his youth. That warmth and joy that's born from undying everlasting love. He feels two hundred years younger, like a weight was taken off his shoulders.

It seems his dove came back to him. And you've come back as something equally beautiful as you were before.

The little darling in your arms is frightened, "______...Why?! Why did he?" Oh, so that's your new name. ______, it's just as lovely as the last one.

"Sh, It's okay. You're going to be okay, Yuu." You hug them in your arms like you want to protect them from this big dangerous world. Far away from all the evils that threaten them. Aw~ Isn't that just the sweetest? Your parental love is just as strong as it's been all those years ago. So desperate to protect your children from the threats that try to steal them from your arms.

Well, it would just be cruel to do what he planned to Yuu now. It would just tear you to shreds to be separated from them.

Perhaps, he can use this to his advantage. You don't want to be separated, so he'll give you the option of staying together.

Wouldn't that just make you all a big happy family? Him, finally reunited with his precious dove again and one of his boys happy with their darling Yuu. It will mean he'll have to play peacemaker pretty soon but, after he convinces them to share, all will be well.

"Go back inside, Yuu. Arm yourself, stay with Grim and don't open the door until I come back. OK?" You're so protective, willing to send your loved one away and staying behind in the danger zone. The two of you are so much alike.

He doesn't mean to jump the gun, but it seems Malleus might even be reunited with his mother, all he has to do is make contact. Well, the younger darling is inside now, no time like the present.

"Hello there, little dove!" You jump out your skin in surprise at his sudden arrival, but he's expected that. He also expected the kitchen knife you try to drive into his face. He catches it with ease, he's grown up with your fiery little temper. You haven't changed a bit.

"You're wearing Diasomnia colours, are you Lilia Vanrouge?" You recognise him, why didn't he start believing in that idea earlier.

"Why yes I am."

"Are here for Yuu?"

"No, no, my precious dove. I'm here for you." Your face widens in surprise.

Now, that he's much closer he can see the difference between Yuu and yourself. You're a little older, by a few years at minimum. Still, you're quite young. He won't have to worry about your fragile human life ending so soon. Plus, this means he can leave Silver with some siblings.

"But-But I don't-I'm not-"

He shushes you, there's no need for this fear, this trepidation. "Dove. I've mourned you for so long. Now that you're back, I won't ever let you leave me again."

"But what about-"

"Don't worry, the little darling you're protecting will be fine. In fact, I think we'll be one big happy family."

[townslore]

you dont wanna know how many times i teared up drawing this,

LOTS of explaining stuff under the cut,,

my bestie and i came up with a lot of new hcs for them today. mostly age stuff which i'll talk abt later but FIRSTLY oh my God the mouse plush. because they're kitty cats.

their mama made it for del originally when he was a baby. because they couldn't afford a lot del ended up giving it to bas when he was born. unfortunately, bas lost it during their time at the igniter facility, just like the paripus charm del gave him at some point.

also before anyone does point this out-- i do know metaphor has its own language letter writing system but Holy hell i'd rather die than figure that out. the way i wrote their names is supposed to be as if del wrote them, in reality it'd be like the actual letters they use. i tried simulating how kids write their names ( bc i see that a lot at my job ) and even wrote it with my left hand, aka my non dominant one, since i hc del is left-handed but he'd write these with his right hand, making it even more difficult for him.

ok now onto the stupid age timeline stuff that gives me a HEADACHE so i apologize if not everything makes complete sense

they live in a small hole-in-a-wall house which is basically just a big living room with a small kitchen space, and an attic. its in some different small corner in grand trad where mostly paripus stay

when del is 4 years old ; bas is born, their papa disappears not long after. presumably ended up like the first paripus you see in grand trad.

when del is 6 and bas is about to turn 3 ; their mama disappears ( well, dies, but they dont know how ) and they eventually end up homeless, still in grand trad

del 12 y/o bas 9 y/o ; as bas says in his third rank, he tries to enlist in the military but gets shut down for being too young, gets invited to the igniter experiment facility instead, not being told their true intentions. he tells del about it and he decides they'll join out of necessity for food and a better place to sleep.

del Maaaaybe around 16 y/o bas 12-13y/o ; this is the age where del stops growing, and bas doesnt proberly wake up one day. hes still short enough to carry and del breaks them out of there after around 4 years of hell. he makes it back to grand trad and rella hears him yell for help near the church ( dear lord please dont ask me how her canon age plays into this i cant think anymore )

; some point after this event they try enlisting in the military again and get in this time, where they.. presumably? meet louis and he takes interest in them.

all of this was put together with the help of my bestie and a lot of inspiration from my fav fanfic ever, "o welche lust" by antelopunny on ao3. go read it. now.

anyway dear god I hope this is good LOL feel free to add stuff or maybe even correct me if i happen to get anything wrong which was different in the game ( i dread the day their actual timeline gets revealed and all my headcanons die alongside it )

[yridenergyridenergy]

do you have pictures of all of kyo's tattoos you could make into a master post?

Judging by how long it took me to reply to this (57 days), I didn't hahah.

While compiling all of it into a sort of encyclopedia of each tattoo would have been possible, I just felt that it was slightly cringe? Sure, it's obviously all skin that he has shown us, but... There's something too uncomfortable about it, until he actually does another full-body photoshoot on his own. I opted for a list instead, and I'll give you links to some posts that show examples:

SCALP

Dum Spiro Spero statue

Chrysanthemum flower(s)

Barbed wire

Flames

Eye fresque (?)

(Nape) Enneagram (nine points, astrology-related)

FACE

Uranus symbol

Handwritten "Vanitas" (?)

Small x at external corner of right eye

NECK

Blended female heads (reminescent of Ochita koto no aru sora cover art)

H.R. Giger art

Handwritten "truth"

"Damned" with skulls

Skull with crown

RIGHT ARM

Noh mask with string

Scribbled-over blue butterfly with the Russian word for "To be born"

White/negative space flames

White flower/leaf

Spider with skull etched on back

Jewelry

Queen crown

Skeletal queen with black censor bars over eyes and mouth "GOD KILL THE QUEEN     MAD STALIN"

Leathery gauntlet patch (?) that quickly covered up the Russian words for:  "Eternal" "Sleep" "Mind" "Freedom" "Happiness" and a blue star

LEFT ARM

Chinese-style dragon

Phoenix

FINGERS

Handwritten "Vice" & "Virtue"

"S A V E"

Christian cross covered by longer black triangle

Skull holes (knuckles)

Norse runes (Mannaz, Laguz, Hagalaz) & upside-down Russian orthodox cross

"God" and "Pain" in Russian

Flame tribal mark (?)

HANDS

Anarchist "A" in circle symbol (right palm)

"The Emperor Is Dead"

Thorny ring

ABDOMEN

Ankh cross (with loop) meaning eternal life, with a Noh mask/face inside it

Inner forearms bound at the wrists, palms facing up with at least one showing a lucky square, a W/M of fortune and a long, straight vertical Life line (re: palmistry, or the characters on the second palm form a word)

Tiger with red flames

Handwritten "triginta duo" (32 in Latin) (?)

Skulls

Yokai with two pairs of eyes

White heron or phoenix

Skull ghoul

Oni mask/head with horn and jewelry

BACK

Eye surrounded by illumination lines near nape

Sanjusangendo Kannon

Black smoke swirls

LEFT LEG

"To live and die with a sense of inferiority is all I know."

Flames, waves, clouds

Large sakura flower (?)

"AXIS"

Swirls

Geisha with burnt left side of the face

Large chrysanthemum flower

White spider web (?)

Skulls

Duplicated Noh masks (art by _suzani on instagram)

RIGHT LEG

Large chrysanthemum flower

Rooster

Negative/black space

Flames, waves, clouds

"LOOP"

Noh mask in a triangle (art by dualflow on intagram)

Honeycomb (?)

Koi fish

FEET

Symbols for Mercury, Sun, Jupiter & Venus (toes)

Handwritten "the reckless love"

Most of Kyo's tattoos were credited to nobuisobe666 (Instagram), while Sezuni did his back tattoo and the anarchist A in his palm.

Unknown tattoos:

Hip area

Ankles

Rest of feet

Some pictures:

Rock And Read 115 - Petit Brabançon

Rock And Read 098 - sukekiyo 1 2 3

Rock And Read 087

MadaraNingen x Milkboy photoshoot

Instagram 1 2 3 4 5

Tour24 Psychonnect screenshots

Tour22 FROM DEPRESSION TO________ 25th Anniversary screenshots

Graphic from Twitter

PHY vol.14

Tattoo Tribal vol.65

The World You Live In gifs

Natalie.mu Petit Brabançon

Barks Petit Brabançon

Don't Forget by Petit Brabançon promotional photo 2 3

sukekiyo Tour24 Tsumetai Chinmoku screenshot

[aangelinakii]

JUSTICE LEAGUE AS FRAT BOYS.

characters written about in this piece : bruce wayne, clark kent, barry allen, oliver queen, hal jordan

note : sexual content mentioned but by no means smut, and definitely some swearing,, it's just kind of cracky and humorous because rhat's all what we're here for, thanks for requesting ! and hope you enjoy

requested !

BRUCE WAYNE.

probably the most restrained out of everyone, and it has you wondering how he even got in the freaking fraternity. oh you'd be surprised. on the outside he's this calm, sorta brooding, quiet type,, like seeing him with the rest of these guys he totally doesn't fit in. BUT!!!! that IS THE ENTIRE RUSE !!!! it's all an act to get clunge. like you could never admit it, but he purposely goes to the campus library, waits around the romance section and then when he spots a cute girl he goes up with all these lines. "hey, sorry, do you think you could help me locate wuthering heights ?? i haven't been able to find it no matter where i look !!" and then the girl finds it and he's like oh will you go out with me for some coffee and then we all know what really happens. but he's gripping definitely, can get your attention as soon as he walks into a room, so the girl he was plotting on was probably already plotting on him. also unfortunately the type to go after girls all nice when they've just had a breakup,, "i'm so sorry, the guy who did this should die in a hole, want to come by mine tonight and we could watch some movies with takeout ?"

CLARK KENT.

everybody meets clark and can't imagine him being as bad as his frat brothers, and he's not, except he also is worse?? he's your token meathead, brain non existent frat boy, but gets it done just as effectively, if not better than everybody else. when he spends most of the 24 hours in his day at the gym, you'd wonder where he even gets the time to pick up girls, but then you're walking through thr frat house and it sounds like a pig is getting wrangled with those noises,, and then you're walking through the dorms and find one doorhandle with a pair of hot pink lace undies hanging off and you're like ahhh okay it's clark— hang on. because no one's ever actually seen him in action,, chatting up a girl i mean. say everyone's gone out to a club or a sports bar or something, he's with the guys the whole time but somehow by the time they get back to the frat he's rawdogging someone upstairs ??? (i think it's the muscles, they're a magnet) and he's definitely a member of the football team, got there on scholarship because he's a small town baby, and the quarterback or linebacker title is definitely something he flashes from time to time to attract the huzz

BARRY ALLEN.

okay just because i said it just now for clark's one it made me think,,, barry would SO use huzz unironically. like he's texting the gc "k abt 2 go back 2 frat w huzz i found in victoria secret" and yes he also does type like that. want to know what he's doing in victoria's secret ?? oh that's a secret i'll never tell xoxo gossip girl (he hangs out in the mall to locate fine shyt and then discreetly follows them into the stores until he talks to them, and because he's so charming they go back to the frat with him). but it's true, he does have some sort of effortless air about him, more of a boyish charm than the rest, but his tactic is more so blunt flattery than anything else. big a girl's ego nice, by saying how pretty she is — are you sure you're not wearing makeup ? you're so gorgeous i thought you must be born with eyelashes like that — and then let her take you back to her dorm so she can return the favour if you know what i'm getting at 💀

overall actually i think he's quite a nice guy, and not as overly exploitative as the others, but yk still likes to have a go because he wouldn't be in this fraternity for nothing. by no means is he the type to stop his friends from the way they behave, because, like i said, he's not here for nothing, but sometimes might make a comment if he thinks they've taken it too far with a girl (but then he'll just go and cheer her up after wink wink)

OLIVER QUEEN.

more likely to date someone than the rest of the guys, but that doesn't make him any better by far. he might be the worst of them actually, because he makes all these girls think they have a proper chance with this really cool charismatic guy (rizz lol) and then dumps them with that whole "it's not you it's me" after like two months of dating, and just goes on through his college life like that the cunt. he finds cute girls EVERYWHERE like literally everywhere. there was one time he brought a girl home after the first date, and then he went to go make them coffee in the communal kitchen, so everyone was asking where they met, and he deadass says ohh she was doing community service and she ditched it for this dick lol what can i say. if he had normal friends they might say what the fuck ollie, but then everyone asked where it was she was doing it so they can find some of her peers because she "was taking it nice" like lord... but then even she didn't last long, and it was actually her fault not his just getting bored. after a week she accused him of checking out another girl and pulled a hammer to his head, so obviously that was a situation he wanted to leave asap. most of the time ollie just chooses some really strange girls to date (even tho half the point is to just have sex but actually have a label to it), so he considers a lot just having simple one night stands never to see them again, or doing what hal does, but he can't seem to bring himself to have something completely temporary. even though all his relationships are.

HAL JORDAN.

literally THEE fucking fuck boy frat boy literally THEE worst nightmare you could ever think of. it's like hal has been in the game since the womb, like his calling in life was to be a frat boy and nothing more. he's such a cunt, like he knows exactly what to say to any girl to get in their pants you know it all the whole bizz. and he'll say anything. literally pretended for a whole semester to be gay once just to score. but his favourite past time has to be bar crawls on a friday night, except the goal isn't drinks at each bar, it's girls at each bar. literally carries an entire strip of condoms in his jeans pocket to rip one off in a time of need, which could be any time obviously for him. frat boy hal is definitely a fan of public stuff, likes the rush of the possibility of being caught (and oh noooo nooo pls don't find out how good i am in bed, well... in the back of an alley but you get what i meeeeaaaan). i think he's kind of like joey tribbiani, where it's like instead of how you doin he goes up like hey you alright ? to any living breathing thing with boobies, and somehow it always works, because he's got a collection of bras or panties in his drawers, which are like trophies for every body he scores.

[bonkbobl]

beautiful fool

ROOSE BOLTON X READER | PART 2

a/n: wait okay i didn't mean to fall down this rabbit hole but roose bolton can get it i dont really care. genuinely sometimes i forget that hes a bad... bad bad bad man. he has that flavor of bad thats just so alluring though i cant resist. i forget that the boltons often torture people for fucks and giggles but rewatching the scene where roose just fucks with jamies head for no reason other than thinking it might be funny made me think to what lengths would he go for something he actually wants. warning that its unedited and unplanned and this is more or less a train of thought fic.

summary: he had to have you. whatever it takes.

warning: REALLY explicit, major dubious consent, honestly headed toward straight noncon. very problematic trope of being forced to fuck but then enjoying it. forced marriage. id say dark roose but lowkey this is pretty in character for this bad bad bad man bad man. bad man.

Your heart raced out of your chest, fear even threatening to bubble and explode out of your throat. You almost got away. You nearly escaped. And here you were, tackled into the mud just by the river by men who wanted to hurt you. Hurt you and whatever was left of your family.

The men who whispered taunts in your ear as they tied your hands behind your back laughed. These were the same men who just two days ago invited the woman who you call mother and the man who was like a brother to you into their home to feast and murdered them.

You knew they'd send out a hunting party after you. But you thought swimming in the water might throw them off your scent. You weren't so lucky.

And as they dragged you back, the words of those men rang ominously through your head, "It's too bad the lord wants her untouched. I'd very much like to touch this one."

A lurking feeling told you that you'd probably have preferred to fall into the river and crack your head open on some jagged rock than find out what use the Lord of the Dreadfort had for you.

------------------

"What happens if I refuse," You asked, lifting your chin in defiance, as much defiance as you could manage with your arms tied behind your back.

Roose tilted his head at you almost like he was amused that you'd even think you have a say in the matter in the first place. "Then I'll put a bastard baby in you," he responded, his frankness and lack of shame sending cool shivers down your back. "And once the bastard is born I'll put another in you."

You couldn't help the frustrated tears that pooled in your eyes and you ripped your gaze away from him, fear bubbling in your chest and making you feel sick.

"Whore of Winterfell, or Lady Bolton. It's your decision, love."

Ever since that conversation you had pondered how likely it is you'd make it even a few miles before you were captured, either by Bolton hunters or the Ironborn. Either would be unpleasant. You wondered if you could find a way to just be done with it all and join your ward family in the seven heavens rather than fight. But you knew you could never bring yourself to. You were one of the living, through and through. You had to run.

And plan, you did, but no opportunity came. It was only a matter of time before you were put in a pretty white dress and brought under a Godswood to speak your vows to the man who betrayed your true king.

All you could think was why. Why cant he just let you go. You have no legitimate claim that could threaten him. You're not a stark. You're just a girl. You don't come from a large family. Not one of influence. There are no banners to raise. No substantial actions you could take against the new wardens of the north. You were more likely to die trying to run north than you were to be any kind of threat.

------------------

It wasn't like Roose to hold affections for any particular person. It was rare for him to even feel a vague sense of fondness towards anyone. A person is useful and competent. If they aren't then at best they are a nuisance that he could do without, at worst a threat to the Bolton name.

But you.

You were every bit as much a fool as the man who took you in as a ward, and that same mans son who grew up with you. You fretted over honor and doing the right thing when your enemies would not pay a second thought. You argued in favor of the late Queen Talisa's insistence on helping both Northern and Royal forces, allocating countless coppers toward medicating the enemy.

You aggravated Roose to no end when you first began to speak out. And yet he found that his eyes would always meet yours, rake downward against his will really. And though it only added to his aggravation, he brushed those feelings aside as the natural desires of a man.

He, in no way, found you difficult to gaze upon. It was infuriating, even more so that you seemed to understand the effect you had on men, flirting about with the son of Karstark and joking crudely with the men as if you weren't a lady to be respected.

And yet he found a stirring in him when you'd make an innuendo that was a little too risque.

He soon found it difficult to not think of you. Especially when you, the beautiful fool, revealed yourself to be of a sharper mind than even the King in moments.

"I love Talisa, truly, but think about it, Robb. You may be winning battles right now. But if you become too close to her, your closest advisors may falter. You risk losing the war."

"We have little food to sustain the rest of the camp, perhaps it'd do the Northern cause some good to do something about the overflowing kennels. As distasteful as it is to execute so many."

"Karstark will be avenged if you go through with this, please Robb. His forces make up a third of ours. Think. Think about it, I beg you."

Roose was irked by the fact that he agreed with you on more occasions than not, but he was impressed nevertheless. And it only kept you on his mind more. No, it wasn't love, Roose was sure of it, it erred more on the side of an intrigue that escalated to the point of near obsession. You were, after all, young, beautiful, thoughtful, and you held a level head. More strong than his first wife, less stiff and rigid than his second. More alluring and exciting than both.

The way Roose saw it, Robb Stark was becoming more dangerous to the interests of the North, growing increasingly reckless as the war went on. It was really his duty to usurp the so called King in the North, whod surely lead all the great Northern Houses to extinction if this masquerade continued on. You, however, would be a great loss if you were to drown alongside the wolf.

A great loss, indeed. Not to any higher purpose, you were not from any significant house. No, you just deserved to live. It baffled Roose to know he felt that way about any one person. But he reasoned it's simply because he wants you for himself. His pretty little wife — you'd fit that role so well.

He even remembered the way the old Lord Frey cackled when he stated his intentions with you.

"Marry any of my daughters and I will give you her weight in silver, My Lord. An offer of good faith and my grandson shall become Warden of the North."

"I'm honored by the offer, believe me. But I already have a prize that I've set my eyes on."

Frey's eyebrows arched in amusement.

"The Stark Ward," Bolton answered the unspoken question.

And the old man laughed, harder than a man his age should be able to, and sure enough his joy was cut short by a few uncouth coughs. "Pretty slut. I cannot say I blame you, Lord Bolton. I'm embarrassed I didn't think to take that pretty thing as my spoils before you did."

Roose offered a polite smile and hum, "I'll wed one of your children or perhaps grandchildren to whatever child I will have with my new wife."

Frey chuckled, nodding, "Hm, expect me to remember such a promise, my lord..." Then with a sardonic smirk, the lecherous old man spoke again, "Eh, I assume you aren't the type of man to like to share, are you, Lord Bolton."

And Roose's smile dropped into a hard glare. Frey laughed again, waving him off.

"A joke," he reassured, "Alright. After we kill the boy and his mum, you keep the whore. I cant wait to see how you deign to tame the bitch."

------------------

The very same halls you grew up in echoed terribly as your husband led you to the chambers you would share. The Lords chambers. You remember running to this very room to pester your Lord and Lady, sometimes Sansa or her older brother running alongside you.

Lord Bolton hardly spoke a word to you. All the better, for you could not bear to look at him. All those months of sitting across him as both of you counseled the proclaimed King in the North, and you thought you knew the man. You even admired him, vied for his approval. You thought him to be intelligent, more clear headed than the men that are easily driven by anger or lust and other vices of men. You'd smile to yourself on the occasions he'd agree with you or appear to approve of your advise.

To be honest, you thought Lord Bolton had no such love or affection toward you, especially in the very beginning when he wouldn't even stop to regard you, or he'd clearly speak over you, brush you aside, advise your king the opposite of the words you'd spoken. You thought he saw you as a mere child, playing at king and hand like you and Robb would as babes.

Now you think he really must have hated you. You wonder how long he hated Robb, and all the Starks, all their allies. But you, he must have hated you especially. Why he would feel the need to subject you to the greatest torture of living with him, being bred by him, carrying child after child, you wondered why why why. Why does he hold so much resentment toward a young girl. He must be a sad man.

You suddenly realized he was staring at you, watching your teary eyes, your clenched jaw, your shaky breath. You stared him in his cold eyes, defiant. Though you knew it was useless. You knew what would come next. He made it clear.

Whore of Winterfell, or Lady Bolton.

Was there any difference?

For Lady Bolton, the children you bear him would be heirs rather than bastards. For Lady Bolton, you'd have a title, your "honor" in tact. But everything that mattered would remain the same. Youd take him nightly. You could only hope for him to cease his visits once a babe has taken to your belly

"Lady Bolton," your husband commanded your attention.

You faced him, inches away from the bed. He towered over you and you did your best at a feeble attempt to not let him intimidate you. You were scared. You wanted to be strong but the thought of what was to come next was scaring you. There's no escape.

"Lord Bolton," you replied, nothing but spite in your tone.

He breathed a humorous scoff, shaking his head slightly, "Undress yourself," he said, barely above a whisper, challenging you by tilting his head to the side. His eyes were so cold, barely feeling. You'd not be surprised if he told you he wasn't human.

Swallowing, you began unlacing your dress, attempting to remain hard as steal. But a tear finally trickled down your face when his hand reached up to cup it.

Your fingers stalled to a halt when he leaned in to kiss the tear, an action that would be comforting from any other man but you knew he meant to mock you. This was meant to be humiliating. He doesn't care for you. He kisses your tears away to remind you he doesn't care. He might even like it. Stop crying.

But you couldn't. You squeaked out a small sob as his lips came down to meet yours, hungry and demanding. Your shaky breath let out a heavy sigh through your nose and the feeling of fear strangely extinguished from your chest for a moment. Instead, your chest rose and you met him in his kiss.

His lips were surprisingly soft, his tongue felt dirty in your mouth but you couldn't explain why you didn't want to bite it off and spit it out. Instead you felt helpless and you let his tongue roam your mouth with little to no fight. When he pulled away from you, a string of spit tried desperately to keep the two of you connected but smacked against your chin after a mere second.

Your breath was heavy, cheeks wet with tears, flushed and probably looking a mess. You didn't want to imagine it. The vague sense of disgust with yourself remained but it just felt slightly different. You didn't know how to place it. It stirred rather pleasantly in your lower tummy and you felt really tense down there.

"I will repeat this command. But for the future, I want it to be known that I don't enjoy repeating myself. Undress yourself."

You heard his words clearly and allowed him to kiss you again. Your fingers clumsily and hurriedly worked at your dress. You stripped yourself bare as he did as he liked, kissing, nipping at your lips. His hands explored the new inches of your body as they became more and more exposed to him.

They roamed over your back, and back in front to cup your soft tits, weighing them, toying with your nipple... roamed back down your back, squeezing your firm ass. You couldn't place the feeling, you couldn't place it. You didn't like the feeling. You wanted it to stop. And yet if he pulled away you felt as if you might lean back into his touch inexplicably. You'd hate it but you'd go back for more.

Whenever he groped you a little too hard, you'd whine without even realizing it and Roose's pleasure would grow. Once you were fully naked, you grew awkward, not knowing what to do with your hands so you backed toward the bed. But he followed.

The rough fabric of his clothes felt harsh against your soft skin. You had nothing to do but whimper again and when you turned your head away, he simply let you, instead taking the opportunity to finally look at you, his little wife. Beautiful, clever, stubborn little wife.

You ducked your head, crying, confused at the way you felt, confused as to why you weren't fighting him harder. And that spurred you to begin.

Roose realized you weren't fighting him the second he kissed you and he shared your confusion for a second until he felt your tongue caressing his in reciprocation. He's sure you hadn't even fully realized your own actions as you had rushed to comply with his orders.

He half expected you to be a shy blushing bride but this reminded him that you were a little of a tease with Robbs men, cracking nasty jokes that a lady should not have been aware of. You were no blushing bride. In fact, you were a bit of a slut. A tease.

And suddenly, it struck him that the behavior hadn't so much aggravated him in the way that he thought. In fact the memory of you flirting with those men who were now burried in the ground or thrown into the river, gave him this strong sense of accomplishment to have you here.

Roose began undoing his trousers, unsheathing himself to your horror and you pushed him away, escaping the only way you were permitted, crawling on the bed and trying to get over to the other side. Roose was too fast, grabbing your ankle and pulling you down.

You fell but you kicked him in the chest and he laughed, dropping your ankle, but only so he could grasp your hips firmly and pull you back along the edge of the bed.

"Down, girl," he commanded, as if you were a dog.

You cried, clawing at anywhere to escape to. But he was right behind you and as you looked around, you knew it was hopeless. Still the fight burned on in your chest. Then you heard a smack and a sharp pain in your buttock, jolting you under your husband.

Another one came because you refused to calm yourself, then his hand slipped between your thighs and he spanked you again as another feeble warning.

"My lady," He started, waiting for you to calm finally before chuckling. Then your torturer informed you of something, no doubt to break your spirits, "Are you aware, Lady Bolton, how wet your cunt is?"

His rough weathered fingers rubbed at your entrance, barely pushing in and sure enough the sound of your slick being rubbed and spread around, filled your ears. Your fists balled the sheets under it and your legs helplessly kicked up, though with no purpose. You couldn't get away. From him. From your shame. From your body's betrayal.

"Your womb is begging me to fill it. You feel it, don't you?" He taunted, "You're confused, aren't you. Stupid, confused, little wife."

His fingers slipped away and you fought to catch your breath, fists relaxing because he stopped. But then his fingers were replaced by something thicker and hotter and your struggle resumed. Your hips squirming but all it did was slicken his cockhead for an easier entrance.

"Let me clear your confusion, stupid little wife." Roose cooed to you, the tone of his voice unfitting of the cruel words. "You are exactly where you belong. Under your husband, serving your husband. The Warden of the North. There's no need to fight your fate or fight your pleasure as you are exactly where you belong."

Then he began pushing into you and your toes clenched, back arching inexplicably. The new angle that you provided made it easier. You knew it didn't make sense but it made perfect sense to Roose, who chuckled behind you, smacking your ass, this time not in displeasure but as a praise. Your body twitched at it, cunt squeezing and pulsing around him as if it were trying to suck it in.

Your moans grew more wanton as he pushed in torturously slow. And of course it hurt, stung, when he forced past your maidenhead but you couldn't even bring yourself to squirm away from that. You were rightfully his.

When his hips met yours, he just held himself buried inside you for a few seconds and you continued to contract and twitch around him, small squeaks of confusion escaping your throat against your will. You couldn't stop squirming. The sensation of something so big filling you stirred you uncontrollably.

A hand trailed down your thigh, nudging it upward and you followed the movement, allowing him to prop your leg up on the bed. Then he began thrusting and your face heated up when you heard just how wet you were. Each time his hips pressed flush against you, youd feel the cool sensation of your slick on his balls.

It was all so vivid. Even if you couldn't see what was going on behind you. You knew. And the most shameful noises forced past your throat as your husband fucked you deeply and slowly.

"Listen to yourself," Roose muttered, hands coming up to grab your shoulders.

It allowed him to hammer deeper and harder into you, the sharpness of his thrusts contrasting the slow strokes he started with. You cried out, shameful but you were horrified to find that you did not want him to stop. Not when he was... oh his cock was hitting something inside you. Deep inside you.

"Keep making those noises, darling wife. I cant tell if I enjoy your pleasure more or your tears."

You cried out, a small sob at the end of it. And despite your better judgement, you turned your head to look at your husband. Your naked body contrasted so much with his garments, which stayed mostly unmoved. Only his pants and breeches were pulled down to his mid thigh.

His expression hardened upon evaluating your features. There was nothing more beautiful, your lips parted in a pleasure that confused you. The tears had dried by now but your hair was a mess and your eyes swollen and pinkish. Not to mention the way you were splayed out beneath him. He landed a firm spank to your buttocks again, aiming to leave marks.

You whimpered, eyebrows coming together as your pussy clamped down around him. Roose grabbed your hip that was propped higher than the rest of your body due to your leg that was positioned on the bed. And he used that hip as leverage to pull your body into him.

The confusion within you turned to fear when an unfamiliar feeling began building within you. You cried out loudly and involuntarily clamped down even harder around him, pulsing uncontrollably as he jackhammered into you ruthlessly, intensifying when his hands abandoned your hips for your neck.

You couldn't help but feel as if you were reduced to a little object. He could grab you wherever and however he wanted and pull you against his cock and you had nowhere to run and yet you couldn't even deign to lift your legs and kick at him. You surrendered to the smallness that he made you feel, cries and distress replaced by whimpers and submission.

You came to find your body shaking and convulsing with a blinding kind of pleasure. Even your moans died into a breathy, shaky sigh, back arching as you sank further into the sheets beneath you. Your lord gave no sign of stopping, another self satisfied hum rumbling from his chest.

"Good, so good, darling. I knew you would come to enjoy your new position."

And with that you were filled again with shame, though not yet strong enough to overshadow the stubborn pleasure which muted any feelings that might incite discomfort. You especially could not feel displeased when your husband firmly snapped his hips into you, releasing a grunt. He continued to pump into you, slowly but firmly. sighing along with his thrusts. It was the only compromise in composure that he allowed you to see and you were only sure at this point that he was finished with you.

Surprisingly the spilling of his seed didn't feel like much but your cunt squeezed him, as if it was aware. And you felt satisfaction wash over you, as if your body was also aware.

To your shock and shame, your ass gyrated beneath him, rolling itself against him to fully milk him for all he had to offer you. And you hid your face, pausing once you realized.

After recovering from his release, Roose watched you closely, appreciating the way you still squirmed, restless. You moved your leg back down to the floor and pushed back, hips meeting his and your cunt convulsed again around him due to the overstimulation. He stood like a barrier, looming over you a he rested his hands on the edge of the bed where your hips were and your restless little cunt continued to twitch and pulse as you tried to compose yourself desperately.

You breathed deeply but it was hopeless. You could not walk away with your dignity, fully aware of how Lord Bolton stared upon his Lady Bolton, satisfied with how you gave into him so easily.

You shivered and your breath hitched when he landed a kiss to your shoulder blade. Then you sighed, settling down again for him. And a needy whimper confirmed your submission.

Roose loomed over you, giving you another small kiss on your temple.

"You did well, my lady."

The approval got to you. Your days on Robbs counsel trying your best to say anything intelligent that would make him accept you as an equal. It all led you to this moment. But you never did accomplish your goal of being viewed as an equal, at least it didn't feel that way in this moment. His softening cock still inside you, the only thing stopping his spend from trickling down your leg. Oh the shame of it all.

"I'm pleased to find that you enjoyed it as much as I did."

"No," You protested but in your voice you could tell you didn't even believe yourself.

Lord Bolton merely laughed. And you whimpered again, willing yourself to sink into the bed and disappear. Then your husband pulled back and spread your ass cheeks apart, giving you a lengthy thrust. Though he was not as hard as he was moments ago, the movement was enough to make you shiver.

"Then we should try again in a half mark of an hour. I shall train my lady wife to welcome me into her bed."

You bit the inside of your mouth to prevent another whimper but it was ripped from you when Lord Bolton spanked you again.

Oh yes, Roose Bolton would commit a thousand betrayals and massacre a hundred false Kings if it meant he'd end up with you, here, to warm his bed.

[skybrushus]

Boom! chichak. Boom! chichak. Two of the assailants who had attempted to waylay Tempest Shadow slowly collapsed to the ground. Their drawn weapons tumbling from their now lifeless hands.

     The unicorn looked at third member stood there frozen in place. His weapon still in his holster as his now dead comrades who'd been standing on either side of him slowly made ever growing pools of blood from the holes in their skulls. He was an earth pony probably 16 years old at most. Not even truly a stallion.

     The mare had one of her revolvers leveled at his head. Still peering through her revolvers sight's Tempest spoke.

     "We don't get to chose when we're born, and often we have no say when we die. Today you have a choice. Is this the day you chose to live or die?"

     Now visibly trembling the young stallion's hand slowly left the grip of the pistol on his right hip. Palms out he raised both his arms to chest height. He swallowed several times before finally speak in a small voice.

     "I, I, I, chose not to die. Ma'am."

     Carefully Tempest decocked her revolver and raised its muzzle. Black powder smoke wafted from the muzzle of it. The mare's sheer presence kept the young stallion rooted in his place. For what seemed like an eternity Tempest stared at him. Finally she addressed him.

      "You may have just made the most important decision of your life. Okay here's what's going to happen. You're going to turn around and walk away. I can see it in your eyes. You're not cut out for this lifestyle. Don't take that as insult. It's just a truth. Walk away from this path you're on, and chose a better path." The deep maroon mare casually waved her gloved right hand. "Now on your way." She looked down at the bodies. "I'll clean up this mess."

      "T,t,thank you ma'am." With a distant look in his eyes he slowly turned around and walked off on shaky hooves down the rapidly darkening dirt road. Tempest sighed and holstered her pistol.

      One of the drawings I started during my recent Old West themed Picarto stream. I could imagine a redeemed Tempest Shadow being a gunslinger in an Old West setting, and this is the story that popped into my head as I working on the piece.

I hope you like what you see. Please help make more art like this possible by supporting me at Patreon

[suugarbabe]

Sweater weather fic! Oh my gosh it’s finally fall season I was wondering if you could possibly write a FIC abt Theodore Nott x reader smut based off the song? I LOVE UR WORK SM PLS DONT OVERWORK URSELF BABE

so sorry this took me so longggg, i really truly struggle with lyric fics so if it's shite don't come for me!

warning: there is some smut, couldn't help meself, sooooory

And all I am is a man I want the world in my hands I hate the beach But I stand in California with my toes in the sand Use the sleeves of my sweater Let's have an adventure Head in the clouds but my gravity centered Touch my neck and I'll touch yours You in those little high waisted shorts, oh

Theo had known you basically his whole life. Your dad and uncle ‘worked’ closely with his father, so he had seen you at your cousin’s house near constantly, then every summer and holiday since you all started attending Hogwarts. 

Your cousin being Lorenzo Berkshire, or as everyone called him, Enzo. Your family had always referred to you and Enzo as ‘the twins’ despite you being only cousins because you were both born on the same day and both had similar features. Your parents were so close that you even had a room at Enzo's house for when you stayed over. Theo attributes this fact as to the reason he had been so dismissive of you being a girl while growing up. 

The first time Theo remembers really seeing you, like noticing you noticing you was near the end of fifth year. Now it was the second half of summer and his new infatuation had only grown tenfold. He wasn’t sure what had happened during the first half of summer while he was away in Italy with his father, but something happened to you. 

When you came down from the house that night in a slouchy jumper and short high waisted shorts he thought he might pass out. He looked around the bonfire that was happening and noticed the only open space was on the bench next to him and he thanked Merlin and the stars above for aligning so perfectly. 

As you sat down next to him, you left little space between you two. He hoped the darkness around helped disguise the way his eyes raked over your form from everyone else at the fire. He couldn’t help but practically drool at the thickness of your thighs and how desperately he wanted to feel the heat of them around his head.

Oh, she knows what I think about And what I think about One love, two mouths One love, one house No shirt, no blouse Just us, you find out Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no 'Cause it's too cold For you here And now, so let me hold Both your hands in the holes of my sweater

His breath seemed to catch in his throat when you hooked your pinky over his resting on the bench. He looked up to your face to see if you had done it on purpose only to be met with a quick glance and a wink from you before you turned back to your conversation with Pansy on the other side of you. 

Theo’s mind was racing at just the small action, not being able to compute in his brain that you may be thinking the same about him as he was about you. Before he could come up with some sort of explanation you subtly moved closer to him so that your thigh was squished against his. 

If that wasn’t enough, you then placed your hand on his thigh. Now…now, he thought he might die, might pass out even as he glanced around the fire. Somehow, thankfully, no one took notice of the small and simple movement; most importantly, Enzo didn’t notice, too heavily engaged in conversation with Blaise. 

When he looked back over your eyes were on him, amused smirk on your face. He laughed out rather bashfully, scratching the back of his neck like a nervous tick. When you leaned towards him he held his breath, afraid he might burst on the spot. When your lips were next to his ear, your breath on his skin, he swore he was going to be fully aroused right then, right there in front of everyone. 

“Wait five minutes, then meet me in my room. It’s the one across from Enzo’s in case you forgot,” with a quick squeeze to his thigh, you got up, telling Pansy you had to use the restroom as you walked away. 

Theo sat nervously on the bench, his leg on fire where your hand had just been while his other bounced nervously. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but he needed you, now. So he spouted something about getting another drink, waving off the calls from other’s to grab them one as well, he trudged up to the house in pursuit of you.

And if I may just take your breath away I don't mind if there's not much to say Sometimes the silence guides a mind To move to a place so far away The goosebumps start to raise The minute that my left hand meets your waist And then I watch your face Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for Inside this place is warm Outside it starts to pour

Your mouth was on Theo’s before he could even say anything, fisting the material of his jumper to pull him impossibly closer. You tugged on the material and Theo quickly shed himself of the layer, taking his shirt along with it. You took the opportunity to pull your jumper off as well, leaving Theo nearly breathless at the sight of you in just your bra and shorts.

His mouth was on your skin as his hands found your waist, gripping the soft skin as his name fell from your lips. Goosebumps raised in the trail of his fingertips of one hand as it lightly glided against and explored your body while the other slid under the waistband of your shorts.

Your hands trailed over his abs, feeling the divots and ridges of his muscles as he popped the button to your shorts, pulling down the zipper. His fingers teased the band of your panties, pausing briefly to look you in the eyes, silently asking permission to continue. 

As you nodded your head his hand slipped further, fingers dipping between your folds and gathering your slick before rubbing tight circles against your bundle of nerves. Your nails dug into Theo’s shoulders as he swallowed your moans. Pushing two fingers deep into your cunt causing your back arched off the wall and further into Theo's chest. 

He was in heaven having you fall apart at his touch. As he pressed against the spongy part inside of you your eyes rolled into the back of your head, thighs trembling as he repeated the action. As he curled his fingers once more there was a knock at the door, causing his hand to still inside you. 

“I know you’re in there, Theodore,” Draco’s tone was teasing. As Theo slipped his fingers from inside you, you grabbed his wrist, guiding his fingers to your tongue and licking them clean of your juices. 

Theo couldn’t suppress the soft whimper that left his lips at the sight of your tongue wrapped around his digits, barely noticing the door being opened and a smirking Draco standing in the doorway. “If you two are done being pervs with each other, we’re all in the living room now, it started raining.” 

Theo looked from Draco to you, cheeks aflame and mouth agape trying to find a proper response. You gave him another quick wink before placing a chaste kiss to his cheek and following Draco down the hall to meet the others, Theo close on your tail.

[its-mekjt]

watching exu prime, and oh my god, I'm trying not to cackle or else I'll wake up my siblings.

● orym and opal, dorian and dariax. every dms worst nightmare.

● ash hole

● opal shouting into thin air

● new hairdos (orym gets frosted tips)

● DARIAX PRETENDING TO BE HIS EX

● nancy.

● "but as my friend said, we have other offers to field and other people to see. very important people that we've been discussing going to see for quite a while do maybe we SHOULD GO SEE THEM." dorian was STRESSING.

● 'orym shoots dorian a look that a spouse gives to a spouse'. this is where the dorym shippers were born.

● i love when people (opal) are correct but phrases it weirdly

● "for you i could take off another 150 gold" // "okay, 900 gold got it is."

● butt stab

● orym really is the only one with a braincell. mainly by process of elimination.

● 'that's all good though. 3.'

● glitter diaper

● dorian fucking with dariax saying that he's from a long of trapeze artists and jugglers is still one of the funniest things ever

● 'what's your last goddamn name opal.'

● THE CONTEST

● dariax cosplaying as dorian

● "if you were a GEM what would you be and why?" // "i'd be a peach jam."

● dorian and dariax using the cloak and wearing each others clothes as an outfit is one of my favourite bits

● ashley johnson's laugh is addictive. i love it so much.

● opal kissing dariax cause he messed with her opponent.

● "what's your favourite flower?" // "probably oleander because it has multiple purposes. they're beautiful, they smell great and you can also kill someone if you need to."

● orym being DRAGGED on stage

● "WILL THE HALFLING LOVE, OR WILL THE HALFLING DIE?" (he did die, just a few months later)

● BEST NATURAL 20 EVER

● "DARIAX- oh the jam boy."

● people hitting on dariax gives me LIFE

● "in fairness you seem to be a little confused much of the time."

● whiskey and milk

● 10 GOLD WORTH OF PIES.

● "what's a unifying quality?" // "well, we're all pretty attractive."

● "you're not where you fell asleep." // "oh! that's... a problem."

● "i heard the voice of the spider queen giving me power but you know, nothing to worry about."

● fyra rai is contemplating EVERYTHING

● combat ended because they flipped it over

● 'i rolled a natural 1.' launches dice

● night time lullabye of hot cross buns

● dorian is mothering everyone

● titty racks

● "what is a tal'dorei."

● ALCHOHOL applause

● dariax has a good ass

● mister has performance anxiety

● "don't touch me, stranger! ew!"

● ashley's impression of dariax doing a double take at real-opal while disguised as opal

● "what head, Nancy?" HORROR MOVIE SHIT.

● orym's face as he carries the head. HILARIOUS.

[perakstaz-7]

LESS THAN A NAME

Theory: in the end of arc 9 Heinkel will reach his goal and lose his name after

————————————————————————

Reinhard stared at the painting depicting his family. Apparently, it was commissioned from a master with the Divine Protection of Painting, which is why the artist only needed only an evening to create it. Reinhard himself possessed this Divine Protection, and he could see its characteristic traces in the brushstrokes... Ah, his thoughts were wandering again.

He reached out, and his fingers — scarred from the battle with Aldebaran — froze a millimeter from the canvas.

"Oh, you're here again."

It was the voice of his Mother, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her energy usually overflowed, but now Louanna Astrea was a lot quieter than usual. After all, she had barely learned of the death of her mother-in-law and was now experiencing grief she hid behind smiles.

...Though, that wasn't the only reason why she wasn't as energetic as she should be.

"You know, every time I pass this hallway, I come to look. I always feel like I'll finally see something new... or old? It's super silly, but you do the same, right?"

"I cannot deny the obvious, Mother." Reinhard said in a soft voice and sighed, turning his eyes back to the painting.

Mother and son stared at the same spot — a void that shouldn't be there. Absurd, because right there — next to Theresia and Louanna holding a child — there definitely should have been someone. But instead of a person, the composition had an unnatural hole that couldn't be filled.

Reinhard didn't know his Father, and his Mother didn't know her husband. He didn't leave the family or die before his son was born, no, he was torn from the memory of the world, leaving nothing behind.

Was he a great warrior or did he refuse to fight? What did he love? What did he hate? How did he act? What his believes were? What did he teach his son?

There was an empty space on the wall in his room. Was it a lost gift from his Father?..

Reinhard recalled his childhood, trying to pluck from his memories a face he should have known, but he couldn't remember anything. As always. Here and there, it seemed like he almost managed to grasp something, but it was a false hope.

Why did he changed Captain Marcos' mind?

His Father should have had red hair and blue eyes, but there were no other details. Not even a name existed. It had always been like this, and he should have gotten used to it long ago, but why did his chest still felt so heavy?

———————

Wilhelm was an old warrior, and countless times he had been wounded. All these wounds had long been healed or had closed up on their own, but three of them still reminded about themselves with a dull ache and heavy bitterness. Two perfectly straight scars were from his wife. But there was one whose origin he didn't know. The edges of the scar were slightly ragged, as if the blade had trembled when it pierced his flesh. Was it a wounded enemy who had crept up on him from behind?

Perhaps Theresia would have known the answer. But she had long been gone to tell him. Just as the boy he never knew but had the right to call his son was not around. Where and when did he perish? By whose hand? Did he fight the White Whale alongside his Mother, only to lose? Did he take up the fight against Gluttony in Pristella, only to have his body never be found? Or maybe he simply died quietly somewhere in the Kingdom, never realizing what had brought about his end?

Was he really dead? No one could give an answer.

Who named that child? And what name did he bear? Was he a good swordsman? Did he love flowers?

Who held sword Astrea all this time?

[elianaroselight]

Once again, I was inspired to write for @the-artist-grimm and her wonderful Crimson Angel AU. The song is 'Infinity' by Jaymes Young.

Narinder was watching his spouse, well, wife as she talked to Nona. He thought back to when he had watched her dancing in a field of dandelions and camellias. Back before he was freed. His heart warned when he remembered she had been singing about him. How she dreamed of being by his side and wished upon the flying dandelion seeds to send her message to him. Sometimes he wondered if things would have happened differently had he not jumped to conclusions. He knew that whatever it could have been, wasn't here now and instead he got something much better in his opinion. He married his lamb. His love. His life. His everything. He was determined to make sure she knew she was loved, wanted, desired even. That it was okay to be selfish and dream for herself. He wanted to lift her higher than he had ever been able to go. 

He quietly follows his beautiful lamb towards their home as the evening began to fall. They enter the quiet home. Quiet only because their kits were spending the night with Anthea's fathers, giving the two of them a bit of time to be together. Before Anthea could speak up and ask what he wanted to eat or do, Narinder, who didn't sing very often, opened his mouth. “Baby, this love. I'll never let it die. Can't be touched by no one. I'd like to see 'em try.” The lamb pauses and turns to look at her husband in curiosity, eyes holding a bit of a sparkle at hearing him sing. 

The ex-God smiles warmly at her and walks closer. “I'm a mad man for your touch, girl, I've lost control. I'm gonna make this last forever, don't tell me it's impossible.” He sings lowly, reaching out to take her hand and kisses her palm, his eyes meeting hers to exchange his sincerity. “'Cause I love you for infinity. I love you for infinity. 'Cause I love you for infinity. I love you for infinity.” 

Narinder could hear her breath catching at everything he was doing and begins to purr softly in joy. He leans in, laying her hand in his chest, just above his heart. “Oh, darling, my soul– You know it aches for yours. And you've been filling this hole Since you were born.” The cat’s heart flutters at his own thoughts being voiced aloud, knowing she could feel it. He smiles softly at the adorable blush forming on her cheeks. He kneels down and gently lays her hands around his throat. 

“Oh. 'Cause you're the reason I believe in fate, you're my paradise. And I'll do anything to be your love, I'll be your sacrifice.” He watches Anthea's eyes widen more, becoming slightly wet at his declaration. The cat knew those words would hit hard due to the past, but nonetheless, he meant every word. How could he not. Here he was, bowing before the most beautiful creature he has ever laid eyes on in his entire life, knowing full well his life, heart, body and soul all belonged to the God before him. “'Cause I love you for infinity. I love you for infinity. 'Cause I love you for infinity. I love you for infinity.”

Narinder stands when he feels Anthea lightly tug on him, pulling her into his arms and holds her close. He lays their foreheads together as they began to sway and he lets out a soft purr. “Meet me at the bottom of the ocean Where the time is frozen. Where all the universes open. Love isn't random, we are chosen.” The cat smiles softly, tail hooking at hearing his small wife let out a soft chuckle. He opens his eyes to look into Anthea's as he continues his song. “And we could wear the same crown. Keep slowin' your heart down. We are the gods now.” 

He enjoys the pregnant pause as he listens to his Lamb's hitched breaths. He lays a hand on her cheek and tenderly wipes her tears away. A softly finishes his song. “'Cause I love you for infinity. I love you for infinity. 'Cause I love you for infinity. I love you for infinity.” 

He leans in and kisses his wife as he finishes, pulling her close as his heart soars with love. 

[wispstalk]

wip wmonday

i have not done one of these in liiiike four months lol so I'll just tag everyone back who tagged me in stuff. @nuwanders @ehlnofay @lemon-embalmer @dirty-bosmer @sylvienerevarine @druidx @babyblueetbaemonster

here's a seadhna excerpt... Rat Army vs. Crow Army underground brawl let's gooooo

The rodents swarm and screech. Blackberry dives, swoops, batters the skeevers away from his compatriot with wings and beak. Seadhna darts into the fray, screaming: fuck you, I’ll skin alla you, fuck you, fuck you, I’ll kill you for what you done!

A wall of icy air slams into her. She falls winded to her back and the promises die in her throat. The man’s hand glows with magic, ready with another cruel cold blast.

She staggers up on leaden legs, heaving with rage: You idiot. I am of the Reach! I was born in the belly of a mountain, my veins run with meltwater, my bones are made of cold silver! Fuck you and your stupid little ice spell!

That would be a proper hagraven-type thing to say, fires burning in her eyes, the ends of her hair lifting in this windless hole, claws outstretched and crackling with sure swift death. But she can only manage a snarl before she leaps on him.