#occasionally there’s a little treat in there <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[strngegirl]

a/n: an intermission for the other thing im working on (my first request giggles) because it'll take a while with how hectic my life is rn <\3 // just trying to get my head back in the writing game so this isn't too stimulating (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

cw: gn!reader x choso, angst i think, mildly suggestive (mentions of sex), reader cheats on husband with choso, choso doesn't care, choso really loves reader, reader doesn't love him like that, choso is pathetic and a little sad, choso pov.

wc: somewhere around and a little over 1k i think?

❝Hold me, console me, and then I'll leave without a trace.❞ ——— THE MARÍAS, 'NO ONE NOTICED'.

Winter, the coldest season all year round. A season where snow falls, children get giddy about the fact that Santa will break into their house and gift them their dream presents for being a 'good kid' this year, people get ready for the epilogue of yet another year. Basically, it's a season that's celebrating the end of the year, and the start of a new one.

But Choso finds that he feels rather empty, despite all the activities he's doing with his brothers.

He doesn't wanna blame you, but... He's acutely aware the reason why he's feeling so down is because of you.

After Yuki told Choso to go live as a human, you were the first human connection he made. He went to a bar to try out alcohol, and then you slid into the seat next to his, introducing yourself. Conversation with you flew smoothly like silk, and even with his lack of understanding of everything in general, you were so patient with him. You didn't ridicule him, you didn't mock him, you taught him. What Choso didn't know, you explained. He liked that you treated him as an equal that just has a lot of questions, and you didn't look at him weirdly nor belittle him like some other people he's interacted with prior.

That's also one of the reasons why he followed you home, so enamored with you he hardly notices the framed pictures of you and a man together hanging in the corridors of your home, or the shiny ring on your finger even as you used that same hand to undress him. All he can focus on is your gentle voice telling him what to do, and your soothing touches that gives him the most pleasure he has ever felt. He let you take his first, let you see him so vulnerably in all his naked glory because he thinks he might be in love. It's foolish, he knows; he doesn't even understand what love is, but with his understanding of it, he knows he feels something for you. Choso doesn't care about the fact you guys just met, he cared about the pleasant scorching sensation you make him feel.

He kept in contact with you, never got mad even when you ghosted him occasionally, although it does make him feel vaguely sick, he doesn't mind. Because it's you. And he gets to share a bed with you when you reply to him sometimes; be it for sex, an ear to listen to or just some company, he'd be there. Anything for you.

And it stays that way even when he finds out that you have a husband. It should make him back off, really, but the thought that even when you're bound to another, you still wanted him made him feel so special. After knowing, he listens to you ranting to him about how your husband goes away for long periods of time and hardly ever pays you the attention you need, and from what you've told him some other times, he doesn't think your husband deserves you. If anything, he thinks he can find a better ring for you, replace the one currently locked around your ring finger like a leech.

But you always avoided any topic involving taking your relationship any further.

Choso tried to take you on a date, of course. Multiple times, actually. His pleas for you to accept always goes on deaf ears, or you just shut it down with a detached "I'll have to take a rain check". He hates it. He wants to go out with you, hold hands with you and do all the things he sees couples do. But you refused to leave your husband, and you don't want to be caught cheating which is terribly ironic because you shamelessly invite him over almost three times each week. It's okay though, he'll listen to you if it means he can stay. Even if it hurts him inside.

It's been approximately four months since he first met you and began this repeated song and dance, and right now he's back in your bed all over again. Both of you lie there underneath the covers on your marital bed, basking in the post coital bliss he's been addicted to ever since the start. The hum of the heater inside your room being the only noise filling the silence that has fallen between you two.

Choso has his head on your chest, his ears pressed against your warm, sticky skin as he listens to the thud of your calming heartbeat. It's music to his ears, one he can listen to for eternity if you'd allow him to.

And as always, he's the one breaking the silence. Because you wouldn't.

"[Name]?" He asks quietly, wide eyes looking up to your face he finds himself loving.

You hum in acknowledgment, fingers meandering through his hair.

"Can we attend the Christmas festival together?" Choso asks you on a date. Again. Despite knowing the answer—

"No, I'm sorry. You know I can't."

—he'd still ask. He still holds onto that sliver of hope, that one in a million chance where you'd say yes to him.

He deflates at the response he had expected, his face slowly turning down to hide into your chest again. And again, it's fine. He doesn't mind.

"I love you." He whispers those three words for the first time ever. He wasn't sure if it'd make you mad or... Or happy. He wishes it would make you happy. Because he knows if you said that to him, he'd be very happy.

Choso feels you tense the moment he utters those words, and as he waits with bated breath for you to reciprocate his words—nothing.

It's okay. As long as you continue to keep him around, he'll be content with you turning him down every time he tries to show you how in love he is with you.

Because you make him feel human.

[acquired-stardust]

i love your blog so much thank you for making this <3

Ash here, thank you very much for the kind words and support. Larsa and I put a lot of time and energy into the blog, and having people enjoy the stuff we put out is the best feeling in the world. Being able to celebrate some of the art worth celebrating together with everyone is really special and not something we take for granted.

Seeing regulars pop up in the notes, seeing all the nice little tags people leave and getting messages like this is pretty humbling and makes all that goes into the blog very well worth it. We hope you'll be able to reconnect with some of the things you already love and discover some stuff that can earn a place in your lives going forward.

Life has gotten a little busy for us and might remain busy for a few months, but rest assured we will still be posting all-original content every single day - generally 3-4 posts between 4 and 5 AM PST, with the occasional drop outside of that as well as the occasional self-reblog. We haven't been able to do quite as much writing as we'd like with everything being so hectic, but we've got plenty of subjects in mind that will eventually hopefully result in more articles you all enjoy.

We're wishing all of you a very merry christmas. Treat yourselves to something nice this holiday season in our honor - you've earned it with all the love you've given Larsa and I so far.

-- Ash

[persephoneprice]

me every morning checking the persephone price tag knowing no one else ever posts about her

[rocketbirdie]

weird looking goose...

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Was in an “I need to do something fun, novel, and mildly dangerous right NOW or I am going to self-destruct” kind of mood so I got a waffle cone locally then walked an hour or two to Target and Big Lots, bought some stuff I needed, and carried it back from 8:30–10:00. I saw the moon! It is very orange. Very beautiful. Very powerful.

I got a file folder for important documents and some Command strips and hooks from Target; and a denim chindi rug, an over-door organizer, and some pretty butterfly depression glasses, which I assume are for liquor from Big Lots.

I also helped some kids cross the street because they were unsure how crosswalks worked; and I gave a few dollars to a lady holding a sign who needed it to support her kids. Honestly I liked doing those things more than the actual shopping but I am quite pleased with my denim chindi rug. It’s pretty.

[the-toasted-teacake]

I always want Lando and Carlos to be as high up in the standings as possible... But they do have an annoying habit of just ONE of them being in the top 3 each time 😅

[wereshrew-admirer]

.txt

[girls-and-honey]

I saw you mention a WIP recently, what are you working on?

that’s a good question, I scoured my blog trying to figure out which wip I was referencing but I can’t find anything specific enough to figure it out alskdjf and tbh that’s very in character for me so I can’t even be mad

I’m going to level with you here - I’m very much the type of person to have an idea and be excited about it and furiously scribble down phrases or dialogue or whatever the general vibe is, call it a wip, and never open it again (that’s writing, right?)

but! I would say the one thing I’m more actively working on although maybe not quite formally ‘writing’ is a collaborative effort with @hellinglasses in which we’re creating an entire very in-depth ofmd modern au, gloriously created in the form of ‘yes and-’ style screaming to each other over dm. it’s got childhood friendships, traumatic life events for everyone involved, multiple polycules, oblivious high school love, discovery of self-worth, hometown cryptid rumors, road trips, hopeless romantic tendencies, and oh. so. much. emotional torture (sorry bbys I love you)

the thing I keep forgetting which delights me every time I remember is that the whole thing started based on some dreams I kept having about a high school friend I haven’t seen in almost a decade, and it blossomed into this whole universe over the past... I want to say month-ish? maybe more wow it’s been a while hasn’t it

[gu6chan]

Your post about The Most American Sandwhich just made me imagine Leonard as an American... Leonard scuttling about at a Walmart parking lot, trying to fit all the food he bought in the trunk (enough to hermit away for the next few weeks begote he has to restock again)

this is a bit late but this has me WAILING........ american leonard, what groceries will he buy........ do you think he would treat him also to The Most American Sandwich

now introducing: the U.P's youngest resident

also during the process of scribbling in his hoodie i looked at it and almost started crying

[thesingingrevolution]

hm

[devotion-disorder]

be careful what you wish for...the village Killian's from is having a bit of a population crisis right now, and having a nice little human come by could be just what they need...

Oh noooo....I'm just a naive human lost in this big forest with no one waiting for me...would be a shame if some beautiful elves whisked me away and brainwashed me into thinking I'm their pet/breeding machine and only need their "love and devotion". That would be terrible /silly

- 🩵

wdym the beautiful elf men do not, in fact, have my best interests in mind and were planning something nefarious from the start </3 I was just gonna write down some quick thoughts but it kinda got out of hand LOL

Content warning for: implied drugging (hypnotics, aphrodisiacs), dubcon/ noncon touching (nothing explicit though), manipulation, slight obsessive/ yandere themes, general elven condescension?

Imagine that you’ve accidentally wandered too deep into the forest and lost your way, your shoes hardly holding up in the rough terrain, and the last remaining rays of the setting sun are snuffed out by the overgrown foliage…

To make things worse, you walk right into some sort of trap - a stumbling step is all it takes to activate the runic trip switch, and a suffocating cloud of purple gas is the last thing you remember before things fade to dark…

How clumsy of you! Good thing Priest Killian happened to be on his evening walks when he spotted your pitiful form twitching and writhing in the hunting trap he’d set up; carefully he scooped you up and went his way back to the village. Only the most observant would be able to discern that the Priests’ unmoving smile seemed a bit wider than usual.

It was a trap the elves set up for hunting animals, he’d explained. The poison was almost enough to be fatal, had he not been there in time to save you. It’ll also take a bit for all the toxins to be out of your system. No worries though, because Killian offers to take care of you in his quarters until you’re up on your feet again. 

You don’t even remember if you’d managed to give a response, what with lead-heavy limbs and relentless migraine pulsing in your head. Luckily, Killian treated you with utmost care. 3 meals a day (along with the antidote treatment) brought to your bed (well, his bed), and spoon-fed to you because you were too weak to even sit up. He massaged your stiff muscles and brushed your hair. He ran warm baths and washed you – and even then he never opened his eyes – so at least there was some comfort in that.

Under Killian’s care you gradually regain your strength, save for the occasional dizzy spell and fatigue. But he saved your life after all! Feeling indebted to him, you offer to stay longer in the village to help around. While Killian’s expression is ever-unreadable, you can’t help but sense a bit of…amusement from him upon your suggestion. Regardless, he agrees – so long as you agree not to wander too far outside the village, because it’s very dangerous out there, he said.

And of course, he maintained a watchful eye over you, shadowing your tottering form as you went around introducing yourself to the other villagers. How cute.

You worked whatever odd jobs the elves had for you. which isn’t much at all. Mostly just menial tasks, or perhaps relaying messages. Things that they could’ve easily done themselves with their magic, but it’s fun watching an over-enthusiastic little human do it instead, so eager to please. You would say they are…endeared, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just looking out for you, what with your unfinished recovery. Anyhow, the elves are charmed by the newfound presence in the village.

Killian gifts you a new set of clothes, made by the local tailor (you don’t remember visiting a tailor for measurements at any point though, strange). To help you feel more at home, he said. It's pretty, a delicate garment that flutters cool against your skin in the warm summer heat, with an unmistakably elven style of elegance. It is a little short but, well, elves are known for being tall so maybe they're not used to human proportions? The white silk is a bit sheer in places, and you tried to ignore how it clung to the contours of your body when you sweat…

You hadn’t expected elves to be so openly affectionate. Being a long-living race known for their high culture and intelligence, it made for the perception that they were maybe a bit prudish, engrossed in their endless pursuit of finer things to care about lowly desires. But you suppose the elves are as curious of you as you are of them. You got to know some of them quite well, and soon it was routine for them to envelop you in their embrace. They pet your hair and nuzzle into your neck (Killian said something about how common skinship is in elven culture), at times slipping their digits beneath your clothes…sometimes you don't really remember, because the medicine still made you a bit sluggish. But it's ok! Their affectionate nature is a surprise but one you welcome. You think. 

During all of which, your treatment continued. Just a little longer, Killian promised. The side-effects seem to show no sign of waning, if not worsening at times. Sometimes you struggle to recall what has happened and what has not. The elves didn’t seem to mind, gladly cradling your tired body when you are overcome with sudden bounds of weakness. You poor little thing, they cooed, one hand combing through your hair to distract you from their other that wandered along your body.

Some days the medicine leaves you feeling more flushed than usual, and a strange feeling you can’t quite place invades your senses; a deep, frustrating kind of yearning that throbbed in your core. You assume it's the side-effects of advanced elf sorcery/ enchantment in your antidote treatment. It’s a tad embarrassing, but you can’t really do anything about it when the elves (if not the Priest himself) check in on you so frequently. 

Your only reprieve comes when Killian slots himself snug against your smaller form at bedtime. Were you always this close? You’re not sure if you recall, trying desperately to suppress the suggestive thoughts flooding your brain. His cool hands trail over your body, and it feels way too good against your overheating skin, so good that you can’t even think about resisting as his lips come crashing on top of yours, when he slips his arm underneath your waist to push you closer, closer against him.

Stumbling out of Killian’s quarters in the dead of night, confused, and your vision blurred by hot tears, all you can think about is getting away from him, from this godforsaken place. The other elves stepped out of their houses from the commotion. It was as if something in the air shifted. Their friendly, curious pretenses have dropped completely, leaving a ravenous hunger and unyielding need in their place. The way they leer at your body, the disheveled elven outfit failing to provide much cover, makes your hair stand on their ends. The elves close in on you, their concerned voices laced with something unmistakably sinister. You’re trapped.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor.

“Now, now, I’m sure we’re all very excited about our little one here, but everyone will have their turn sooner or later.” Killian explains. He leans close to your ear, whispering in a volume only audible to you. “Look at you getting everyone so riled up already. Aren’t you such a needy little pet?” You’re paralyzed in fear, but his husky voice in your ears is still setting your nerves alight. 

“I’ll give you two choices. Either you let me 'take care of you' back at home,” his arms snaked around your body again, lithe fingers fanning across your thighs. “Or we’ll give everyone a show, and maybe let them get...a preemptive taste, as well. What’ll it be?”

[txjis]

thinking abt toji with a crybaby gf a little extra rn

no one can tell me this man isn’t into the ‘soft’ type. i’m not even trying to project. but i full heartedly believe that he likes the soft girls that have some attitude to them.

cw: MDNI , fem!reader , toji kinda toxic n icky , mention of periods , fake crying , that’s abt it i think.

imagine he’s just spoiled you absolutely rotten, you can count on one hand the amount of times he’s told you “no.” and actually stood his ground on the statement. how could he not give into you? your his sweet little baby, he can’t stand the pout on your face.

but god, when you break out the waterworks?? you could probably have this man doing whatever the fuck you wanted. you knew this too, and you didn’t want him to get used to seeing you cry and whine. so you saved this little trick you’ve learned until there’s something you reaallyyy want, and IF he says no. you know it won’t stay a no.

“c’mon baby, you know i’m saying no because it’s gonna make your stomach hurt.” toji looked over at you, bottom lip jutting out after he just rudely told you no to going back through the drive through to get another ice cream cone after you just practically inhaled yours. and sure, maybe it was immature to cry over ice cream, but you could tell your period was close, you needed that fucking ice cream before you ripped his head off.

“so mean toji.” your lip wobbling a bit while you willed your eyes to start misting over with water. you slammed both of your legs against the passenger side door, shrinking away from him while you sniffled and crossed your arms over your chest. it was dramatic, and you were fully aware of that. but who cares you were his special girl, no one else mattered.

“don’t be like that-“ toji reached out towards your legs, originally trying to place a strong hand on your thigh. he had to lean over the center console the way you tucked yourself against the door so tight. but just before he made contact, you slapped his hand away, turning to glare at him with crocodile tears streaming down your cheeks. “..fuckin’ fine. same flavor?”

you nod as he pulls around to go back through the drive through, he grunts and hands you the cone full of the sweet treat you had just cried over. you take it from him, continuing the pouty act for a few moments until you genuinely start to miss his touch. riding in his car doesn’t feel normal when his hand isn’t in your lap.

toji smirks to himself watching your legs shift closer to him once again through the peaks he was stealing of you occasionally. he places his hand on your thigh and gives it a small squeeze, mumbling a ‘love ya.’

god, he can’t wait until the day he actually wants to tell you no. he can’t wait until he can tell you that he knows what your little ‘trick’ is and how it’s never really worked on him. he can see right through your little head. he wants to watch you stumble over your words and try to explain yourself to him, break you down until you’re begging for his forgiveness. that’s when the real tears come out.

I SAID TOJI LIKES SOFT CRYBABY GIRLS BUT I DIDNT SAY IT WAS FOR A HEALTHY REASON :3 he likes to break them u can’t tell me otherwise

i’d still fuck him icl.

[fictionalmenxyn]

Frat!rafe is the type… (NSFW and language)

Frat!rafe is the type to greet you with a dap up then kiss each knuckle to show your not a bro but his girl.

Frat!rafe is the type to keep his arm loosely around your shoulder or waist till either a guy he doesn’t know or doesn’t like gets close. Then he be gripping on to you for dear life!

Frat!rafe is the type to occasionally give you temple kisses or cheek kisses around his frat guys. But pecks on the lips around other guys. Thinking you can’t tell, but you most definitely can.

Frat!rafe is the type to hug you from behind if you’re finishing up in class or you’re both working on a project together. He’d try to get your attention while you work.

Frat!rafe is the type of show off that he’s only showing of to you. If you both play sports, best believe he’s trying his hardest to show you his skills. If he sees you watching, he’s definitely sending a wink your way or a funny yet cringy mouthing ‘call me’ and doing the phone gesture. Already knowing he’s got you.

Frat!rafe is the type to get to know your friends better, so he knows you through and through. If you’re a big person when it comes to friendships. Best believe frat!rafe is getting close to your friends and becoming their friends. Showing you he respects your friendships and your beliefs. Also showing he can be supportive on your opinions and what you want.

Frat!rafe is the type to listen to the gossip!! This guy lives for it. He definitely won’t show it. But only you can know he loves it. So your daily trips to the frat house, can also brokke gossip seshs! He’d make sure to have your favourite snacks. Favourite drink. Everything. Just so he can know what girl hooked up with what guy or who fought who.

Frat!rafe is the type to practically cradle you in his arms as he listens to how your day was. Or if you have random rants. He’s a good listener, only for you. If it was one of the boys. It’s in one ear, out the other. But for you? Talk all day, he’s got ears for you. He’d nod, occasionally brush strands of hair out of your face. Occasionally kissing your forehead. Add little comments or thoughts, sometimes questions. He was smart when it came to you. He knew you better than yourself. So he’d know when to ask questions, to keep you talking longer. He loved your voice and your thoughts.

Frat!rafe is the type to buy small gifts, knowing you didn’t do expensive (unless you do, then that’s a different story). He’d buy small trinkets or things that ‘reminded him of you’. Just an excuse to splash his cash on you. Even if it only costed five dollars. If you wanted a piece of clothing or something that you wanted but was over a ‘budget’ you had. Expect it at your sorority doorstep a week later. A personalised card on the inside. ‘Don’t even try to give me a lecture about buying you stuff, I wanted to, love you loads, baby. From RF <3’

Frat!rafe is the type to ask you if you’re okay halfway through and at the end of each ‘intimate’ sessions. ‘You alright? Didn’t go too rough on ya?’ ‘Sure? I know you like and shit, but I don’t wanna hurt you, baby…’

Frat!rafe is the type to change positions, let you finish in your favourite position. While he’ll finish in his. So neither of you could complain, but he thought it was sweet of him to be THAT thoughtful.

Frat!rafe is the type to make you finish the same amount of goals/points you scored if you play sports. Like if you scored three goals in soccer, best believe you’re having a good night.

Frat!rafe is the type to have the sloppiest yet downright best sex if he won a game in football. Just know you’re both having a good night if he wins. Just cause HE won the game, doesn’t mean you aren’t getting a treat either.

Frat!rafe is the type to give you a small peck on the lips after rough sex. Cause he feels a little bad sometimes after you ask to go harder. You asked, ok? So? He still will feel bad. Even if you enjoyed it. You’re his girl. He wants to make you feel good. Even if it’s rough. He’ll still treat you like the princess you are.

Frat!rafe is the type to take long showers with you. Both sexually and non. He just likes the warm water running over you both. He LOVES washing your hair. He loves when you use your small thumbs on his large back muscles. Groaning and loaning at the magic your fingertips hold.

Frat!rafe is the type to only come to you for medical help or massages. Go to the team’s medic? No. Go to the college’s physiotherapist? Hell no. Not when he’s got his girl training for those things. He’s her test subject. And he still benefits from it. So it’s a win-win.

Frat!rafe is the type to cuddle you. So much, it’s cute, but not funny to him. Like it’s his lifeline. Just got in his room? Get on the bed and lay there so he can lay on you. Staying the night? Cuddles. Watching movies? Cuddles. Standing there doing nothing? Cuddles from behind. This guy loves cuddles till the end of time. AND WONT ADMIT IT. EVEN IF ITS OBVIOUS.

Frat!rafe is the type to love his baby girl. Always and forever. He’ll show it in so many ways. Whatever way you want. He’ll show it. You’re his girl, his girl gets treated well. Very well..

[ihavenomouthandimustmouth]

It seems like a lot of the anti-transmasculinity/transandrophobia discourse revolves around the ideas that either this does not occur, does not occur in real life, or is just transmascs viewing criticisms of transmisogynistic transmascs as oppression, so here’s a story.

I live with some other people around my age, and I stopped using my deadname with them earlier this year. it hasn’t been that long, about 3 months, but generally, they use my correct name with an occasional mistake, usually followed up by a correction. one of them, however, just cannot seem to stop deadnaming me, often without correcting afterwards. when they do notice they’ve gotten it wrong, it’s usually followed up by a big thing about how they don’t know why they’re so bad at it or blaming it on being drunk if they’re drunk, but often not an apology.

an additional piece of this—my partner, who is a trans woman, changed the name they use around the same time, but this person almost always gets her name right. this person knows me a bit better/longer than they do her, but not that much better/longer, and generally, when I am around them, my partner is also there. (adding a cut here because this is gonna be long)

I talked with my therapist about this at my last session. I was seeking advice on how to handle it, but I also spent a lot of time just complaining and running through different incidences of this happening. I ended up telling her about some of the weird things this person said to me when I first started socially transitioning, including them saying that they were sad when I came out because they (direct quote) “didn’t want to stop seeing me as a genderless elf” (???!?) (I had previously identified as nonbinary and used any pronouns) and followed that up by saying that they hated men, which they then followed up by saying “not trans men though” (which like okay but then why bring that up in this conversation).

In talking my therapist, I circled back to the deadnaming issue and said that I thought this person was doing this to me and not my partner because my partner is more feminine than I am masculine (in social behavior and the way we look as two people that have not started medically transitioning). my therapist pushed back on this and said that, based on all the things I said, it seemed more like this person just didn’t want to see me as a man.

this blew my mind a little because I, a transmasculine person who spends way too much time on trans and transmasc internet, did not put the situation in this context while my therapist, a cis woman who is supportive but not super aware of the trans experience, did. it made a lot of sense though, and fit into the context of my other experiences and interactions with this person.

this person is a nonbinary person who has never identified as or been seen as a man. they are supportive of trans people generally and of their rights. they are also someone who believes that woman are inherently better than men. this generally doesn’t have much of an impact on the cis men we live with—for them, this more comes as being around for jokes that might make them a little uncomfortable, but doesn’t stop them from being seen as men. for me, this means I have to deal with the fact that this person doesn’t want to see me as a man and deadnames me accordingly, seemingly because they see me transitioning as a loss.

my point here is that when transmasculine people say that there are issues they face specifically related to them being transmasculine, that’s not a lie or a hypothetical. there is a stark contrast between the way this person treats my transfem partner and myself (and, after talking with someone who’s lived here with this person for longer, other transmasculine people who have lived in the house). they are supportive of trans people as a group, but not of transmasculinity, and I have to deal with the consequences.

[dandelionjack]

inspired by fifteen trying to say shit and getting censored by the nanny filter, here’s a complete table of every doctors who and whether or not they use strong language

1 - no

2 - yeah

3 - rarely, but accurately and directly, in a dignified and sarcastic fashion

4 - ABSOLUTELY all the time. the tardis filter barely copes. we’ve all seen the K-9 clip, that’s what the character sounds like without the kids show censorship

5 - no. does he look like a man who swears to you? maybe some esoteric combination of words like fuckadoodle shitnozzles

6 - yes. duh

7 - he doesn’t enjoy it, but occasionally, sparingly, when the situation calls for it

8 - definitely . not too frequently, though. for emphasis, or for a laugh

9 - that man is a working class northerner from the 2000s and a jaded war veteran. draw your own conclusions. he knows elaborate insults you’ve never heard of

10 - cheeky little ‘fuck’ here and there with rose & martha, ALL THE TIME with donna, and swearing like hell when he starts going off the rails in the s4 specials

11 - lol no. well… he’s got an example to set to the companions that he treats like children. he’s a storybook character and he wants to be perceived as an imaginary friend, a kind almost victorian whimsical gentleman in a bowtie, and a person like that wouldn’t use crude language. with river song though? now THAT’S a whole other story

12 - the scene in dark water with the psychic paper tells us everything we need to know. twelve in series 8 was straight up pg13ified malcolm tucker. shuttity-up-up-up without the tardis filter sounds like fuckity-bye. he swears liberally, frequently, unsparingly and unceremoniously, at everyone without distinction, including clara’s students at coal hill. personally i think that’s one hell! of a fucking! bird!

13 - no. she’s all famalam hipster mum cringy kindergarten teacher. it doesn’t fit her ~vibe~. the master makes fun of this trait in the timeless children when he’s goading her about her superiority complex. says it’s such a step down from her previous self, at least that one was honest about his emotions

fugitive - she gives no fucks and takes no shit

14 - yes from time to time, like a normal human being would, nothing excessive. donna does bring it out in him though. his mouthy side

15 - this guy says cunt and serves it

[milkloafy]

THE GENERAL GETS HURT — JIYAN

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: in which jiyan overexerts himself in battle and you come rushing to the borderlands to make sure he’s okay. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: 16+, fluff ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.0k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: yk that one tweet that headcanons their tacet marks to be sensitive? yeah. :> my little tribute to jiyan in hopes of getting him soon,, good luck to anyone wishing for him who also still doesn’t have him </3

It wasn’t always easy having a general as a partner. Long nights without him, not seeing him up to months on end, having to wait until the end of the day for him to call you saying he is safe and healthy. 

It especially wasn’t easy when one night, you didn’t get your usual call from him. And it was even more difficult when you received a call from the lieutenant informing you that Jiyan almost collapsed on the field after a hard-won battle from severe Forte overexertion.  

You found yourself rushing over from the safety of Jinzhou to the dangers of the Borderland. You weren’t a solider or a Resonator yourself. In fact, you worked in research for the development of medicine and occasionally helped Jiyan’s mother out in her practice. For that reason, Jiyan preferred if you did not show up unannounced— He always wanted to take proper steps to ensure your safety when you visited. 

But given the circumstances, you were sure he would understand. 

“Where is he?” you called, breathless from rushing over here. “Is he okay?”

The lieutenant nodded at you. “Commander Jiyan is doing better now. You can find him in his quarters.”

“Thank you!” 

You just about ran over to the General’s quarters to see him for yourself. When you entered the room, you saw him half-sitting, half-laying on his bed as he massaged the back of his neck. 

“Jiyan,” you cried, relieved to see he was upright and kicking. Giving him a once over to do a quick check of any physical ailments, you sighed. “You’re alive.”

If he was surprised to see you here, he certainly didn’t show it. Jiyan greeted you with a chuckle as you walked over to him. “Of course I’m alive. I wouldn’t just leave you behind like that.”

“Yet you almost did!” you scolded, taking a seat next to him and immediately looking at the back of his neck. “Look, your Tacet mark is still hurting you. You’re even rubbing your nape.”

“It no longer hurts,” he assured, bringing his hand down to his side. “It’s only a little sore. But I thank you for coming here, and I’m sorry for worrying you.” 

Jiyan wrapped an harm around you and brought you close to him. You leaned against his shoulder and he planted a kiss on your forehead. 

“I promise, I’m okay,” he said, rubbing soothing circles into your arm. “However, if you would like to massage my sore neck, I wouldn’t be opposed.” 

You grinned, slipping off from his bed and gesturing for him to lie down on his stomach. Once he turned over, you hopped up on the mattress and draped your legs on either side of him.

At the feeling of your weight on his lower back, Jiyan stirred. 

“I don’t believe the door was locked,” he stated, almost in warning. 

“I’m only giving you a massage,” you said innocently. “Tending to your injury, even.”

“This is certainly against the code of conduct for medical professionals,” he quipped back, teasing you. “Doctors should not treat their patients in such a way.”

However, the moment your hands found their way to his upper back, around his Tacet mark, he no longer made any remarks. You rubbed gentle, yet firm, circles on the nape of his neck, being careful not to touch his sensitive mark. Thankfully, it was no longer flickering or showing signs of overexertion, but you knew the after-effects were likely lingering still. 

As your hands ran across the smoothness of his muscular body, you felt him stir underneath you once more. You giggled at his response and leaned forward onto him, placing an airy kiss on his Tacet mark. Jiyan shivered at the light touch to one of his most sensitive areas.

“Are you okay down there?” you asked playfully. “Should I get off now?”

“No, please continue your treatment,” he said without hesitation.

You laughed and went on with your massage, not stopping at his neck and shoulders, but instead placing your hands on the small of his back to get rid of any knots as well. 

Once Jiyan felt his muscles loosen up from your treatment, he nodded in contentment and rolled his shoulders back. Before you could fully get yourself off him, he turned himself over and grabbed your thighs so you stayed straddling his waist. 

“Thank you for the massage,” said Jiyan, bringing his arms around your back to pull you down onto him. 

“Anything for General Jiyan,” you teased, kissing his nose as you hovered over him. “But please, try not to overexert yourself that much next time.”

“I know if I do, you’ll come up with the cure for it somehow.” 

“I would and not share it with you as your punishment,” you scowled. 

Jiyan laughed, sitting up on the bed, your legs still around him as he held you by the waist. “I will be careful, I promise you. Now, let’s make sure the door is locked so I can properly express my gratitude for your massage, and my apologies for making you worry.” 

You grinned as you locked your arms around his neck. He managed to get off the bed with you clinging onto him. With his hands under your thighs to prevent you from slipping, he walked over to the door of his quarters and locked it.

Once your privacy was secured, Jiyan pressed your back against the door and kissed the side of your neck. You squealed at the sudden touch and you felt him grin against your skin. 

“I will accept the gratitude and apology rewards now, General,” you declared, holding your head high. 

“Good,” he said, voice low and inviting. “I have a lot of gratitude to show you.”