#people use pronouns as a joke frequently though

[stardust-and-fries]

Oh boy!! A chance for me to yap about gender at length?!?!!?!? DON'T MIND IF I DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [See tags for details. But be warned... I Popped the Fuck OFF writing this one, it's a doozy!]

Sorry if this is rude, but how do you identify? I looked around a bit and couldn't find anything, my apologies

Not rude! Honestly, I don't know these days! Lots of thoughts swirling around in my head. Maybe this is too much, but also maybe saying something instead of keeping it inside will be helpful... I'll put my gender thoughts under the cut... maybe someone can relate and offer some thoughts lol:

Recently, I came to the conclusion that I'm really not attracted to men at all, and maybe, I never have been. Looking back, I can kind of clearly see that any crush on a guy I thought I had was more like "wow, this person is COOL as HELL. I hope we can be really good friends." And then I noticed, that any crush I had on a girl felt... different. The feeling was totally different, and it still is. Have you noticed how most of the men I draw are quite feminine? I also have no idea what's going on with my gender. I know I'm me, a Yugo, I also can't comfortably say what exactly I am. Though by technicality, I am nonbinary, the word doesn't feel QUITE right to use for me. Maybe genderqueer is better. I've never identified as a man, but I have identified as transmasc and taken T. I really do like the results I've gotten from that. But at the same time, I don't really feel close to "manhood" at all, but something about having a mustache sometimes, like I tend to do, feels right to me still. I also like to wear lipstick and stuff. I don't know. I'm also not a "woman" I don't think, but I identify with more... I don't know, masculine expressions of womanhood if that makes sense? I am very androgynous in expression, in short. So basically I don't know what the hell is going on. All I know is I love women LOL. Can anyone relate to any of this? Any ideas?? I will not be offended by any assumptions you might have lol. Maybe I should just make a comic about this.

[euniexenoblade]

tl;dr version: a very frequent and more recent flavor of trans exclusionism, transmisogyny, and transphobia at large has started to bubble up as an overpowering, overwhelming (and fake) acceptance of gnc cis people.

The actual long version:

Trans people, especially trans women, when they want to come out or explore their gender are often met with loved ones, family, or friends telling them "you can just be gnc, you don't know you're actually trans, men can be feminine, you should try that before scary life changes" we often talk about how this is a move by abusive, transmisogynistic people in our lives, who pretend to to care about gnc people, but in reality it's just transphobia manifesting as a false support. They often manipulate trans people into not pursuing transition and then lay on all the manipulation to convince us we were so silly to think we're trans afterwards.

Though there's a lot of people who still see it as honest support for the gnc, most of us are pretty clear that it's transphobic. But, another way this takes form is from other trans people, there are a lot of trans people with internalized transphobia who only view the existence negatively and when you talk about people potentially being trans, you activate their rapid internalized self hate: how can you say that? You can't know someone else's gender! You're forcing them to be trans! Men can be gnc! You're actually the transphobic one!

You also see it take form as things like "egg prime directive." "You can't tell the egg they might be trans!!!" Yes, you can. And you probably should. Trans people are not some mythical once in a blue moon thing. We are everywhere. There's lots of us. Being trans is not a bad thing, it's simply just a thing. Acting like you can't tell people they're trans is treating trans people like we're dirty secrets, a thing to be ashamed of, you're treating it like an insult. The truth of the matter is, telling someone they're exhibiting things associated with trans people can help speed up the process, less dysphoria to agonize over, less confusion as to what's going on, you can help kickstart a path to happiness.

But these people don't. Cuz they don't *want* people to be trans, and very specifically don't want people to be transfem. I don't need to get into the polls that showed most transmascs think telling a friend they might be a trans woman is morally wrong, you've seen it already. I don't need to tell you about how a transfem mentioned a specific person in the media seemed transfem, just for people to harass them (idk pronouns) off the site, just for people to confirm that yes - the individual in the news was likely transfem. And with that realization didn't come an apology, didnt come a new understanding, the trans and "pro trans" harassers stuck to their guns "recognizing transhood in others the way you see it in yourself is the same as transvestigation, the right wing transphobic conspiracy theory!"

This topic has been talked about a lot this past year, with the egg joke discourse, people getting harassed and ran off the site for correctly mentioning someone seems transfem, the constant harassment and blog deletion of trans women, the onslaught of harassment from the transandrodorks and terfs, etc etc. but I feel like it never gets correctly classified as a form of exclusionism. We easily recognize truscum exclusionism as what it is: "youre nb? You don't try to pass? You don't shave? Lol fake trans" it's the blue hair with pronouns schtick. It's gatekeeping the community. But, in the same respect, the "you can't just say people are trans" "it's ok to be gnc!" anti egg joke types of people are just as exclusionary. One end it's "you aren't a true transexual" and the other is "be gnc instead, being trans is a bad thing."

It's the projection of internalized transphobia into a policy. You can't tell anyone they're trans because you don't see trans people as anyone, you see them as weird monsters. That's a really depressing form of exclusion, but exclusion all the same.

[thebeesatemyknees]

141 AND HOW THEY ARE WITH SOMEONE WHO THEY DISCRETELY AND SECRETLY LOVE. LIKE MAYBE NOR A HIDDEN RELATIONSHIP, BUT MORE LIKE BEST FRIENDS AND THEY LOKE READER BUT READER DOESN'T KNOW. IDKK

141 secretly in love with their friend

Word count: 2k || No warnings || Reader: gender neutral. Pronouns "you"

Simon Riley, who always chooses to sit next to you. It’s not even that he lets you sit next to him, no – he goes out of his way to sit next to you. When you’re hanging out in a pub, with him and a bunch of mutual friends (mostly the rest of 141), he lets you choose a seat while he goes to get your drinks. Once he’s back, he places your glass in front of you and tells you to budge up so he can sit next to you. Though, after a few times, it became a routine and you naturally began to make some space for him. Others also know to leave at least one seat beside you empty. If someone forgets, or isn’t privy to this unspoken rule – Simon slaps their shoulder and wordlessly points to a different chair. And so far, no one’s had the balls to tell him no.

He’s a master of dark humour and dad-jokes, and he tells them no matter what reaction he’ll get. He’s used to people rolling their eyes at his puns, but he doesn’t really care. However, with you? It's different. He closely observes your reactions, taking note of things that genuinely make you laugh and things that seem to make you uncomfortable. He catches himself yearning for your reaction, wanting to make you laugh. While in a pub with friends, he keeps telling jokes and adding sarcastic comments, but does it so quietly that only you can hear them. And when he manages to make you laugh, he has a hard time hiding the proud look on his face.

He gives you the “scary dog privilege” and goes out of his way to make it obvious that you’re under his protection. He’s not possessive nor aggressive towards others, but he can stand his ground and you’d have to be absolutely crazy to willingly get on his bad side. So whenever he’s home, he comes with you to all the places you frequent and makes sure all the regulars see that you’ve got a big, scary-looking man at home. They don’t have to know you’re just friends. Honestly, he’d like everyone to think that you’re together. That would keep all the wrong people, all the creeps away from you – that’s what he tells you after not correcting a stranger who commented on you being a cute couple. He then watches your reaction closely, wanting to figure out how you feel about the idea of being together. Whether he has a chance, or should he back off.

If you playfully flirt with him, he smugly reciprocates. As much as he likes puns, he doesn’t use pickup lines, but his witty, flirtatious comments are enough to make your face feel all hot. And he always tells them in the most deadpan manner possible, while looking at you with a half-lidded, almost lazy, look in his eyes. And he doesn’t look away, wanting to see your reaction. To see the smallest twitch of a smile in the corner of your lips. To see you roll your eyes at him or turn away with a blush creeping on your face. He wants to see if you meant it. If you’re willing to take it further.

John Price, who does a bunch of domestic things with you and for you. He makes your friendship feel as if you’ve been happily married for the past 20 years. He rarely goes back to his own flat, most of the time staying at yours. It started with him popping by for a cuppa or to fix something. Now, however, you go grocery shopping together, he has his own drawer in your wardrobe, you have movie nights that you don’t even have to invite him to. You don’t actually live together, he sometimes stays at his place to keep the sense of normalcy. But then you wake up and find him in your kitchen, sleepily drinking a cup of coffee after letting himself in with the spare key you gave him. Fresh bread lying on the counter next to him, as he scrolls through news on his phone. He greets you and stands up to start preparing breakfast for both of you.

He lets you borrow his clothes. Though, that’s a bit of an understatement. He wants you to wear his clothes. That’s why he started to “accidentally” leave his jumpers and shirts at your place. Once you officially let him have a drawer in your wardrobe, he brings all of his best, most comfortable jumpers, even going as far as spraying them with his cologne, in hopes that you'll find comfort in them while he's deployed. He also keeps an extra jacket in his car, though he only offers it to you if he’s not wearing one himself. He won’t admit it, not even in front of himself, but giving you the jacket he’s been wearing ignites a warm feeling inside his chest.

If you playfully flirt with him, he doesn’t flirt back, suddenly getting more serious instead. He might laugh quietly, but sometimes he looks downright annoyed with your teasing. At least that’s what you think. In reality he’s just worried, overthinking the situation while a sombre feeling sets in the pit of his stomach. He feels like he’s betraying you. Here you are, feeling comfortable and safe enough to joke with him like this, while the only thing he can think of is to make you his.

Kyle Garrick, who takes you out as often as possible. He organises lots of platonic (please end his misery) dates. If either of you wants to check out a new place or simply go to your regular spots, he immediately calls you. Cafes, arcades, shops, parks, galleries, bookshops. At some point, it might make you think that he doesn’t have that many friends, but no. He just chooses to spend time with you over anyone else. While eating out, you often get into arguments over who’s gonna pay the bill. He jokingly tells you that he needs someone to spend the “military money” on, but he really just wants to see you enjoy yourself properly without worrying about the expenses. To see you, being taken care of. And he’d be so damn happy to be the one to do that.

He’s also very attentive to your likes and dislikes. While walking through shopping centres, he takes note of things you seem to want but end up putting back on the shelf. That being said, he’s the best gift giver. And it’s not just expensive gifts. Honestly, he rarely gets you pricey things, worrying that it might overwhelm you. But he doesn’t stop himself from getting you knick knacks, your favourite snacks, or even simply picking some flowers for you when you go on hikes.

While deployed, he sends you short letters, sometimes adding some local sweets as well. He knows it would be much simpler to just text you or call you, which he does, but he believes that handwritten letters are more meaningful. The first time he tells you that, you roll your eyes at him. He then asks, pretending to be deeply offended, if he should stop sending them since you dislike them so much. No matter your response, he’d be sending them anyway. And if he ever finds out that you kept all of his letters tucked away safely in a box somewhere in your room, he will have a hard time hiding the tears welling up in his eyes.

If you playfully flirt with him, his brain short-circuits. The best he can do is huff a laugh quietly and reply with a simple “alright” as he looks away from you, trying to play it cool. He doesn’t flirt back, simply because he can’t. His face gets all hot, sweat suddenly coating his palms. Did you mean it? Are you teasing him? Did you finally find out about his feelings towards you? His heart is just as frantic as his thoughts. He shakes his head and tries to casually change the topic, which only makes him look more suspicious. You, oblivious to his internal torment, probably interpret his reaction as discomfort, which makes you step back and avoid flirting with him again. This, in turn, leads him to even more panic, worrying that he’s lost his chance, as he tries to bring your conversations back on the more flirtatious track.

[Sorry to my Scottish readers, you might feel a bit excluded here. Anyway, Johnny still takes you on a fun road trip!]

Johnny MacTavish, who takes you on spontaneous road trips. If you’re not from Scotland, he takes you there to show you his hometown and places he used to go to with his family when he was a kid. He picks you up and drives north but takes an indirect route, stopping at different locations that interest you. You get stuffed with snacks that he prepared for the road and lose both your voice and your hearing from how loudly both of you sing. Throughout the whole trip, he discreetly takes care of you, casually opening the car door for you, making stops so you can stretch your legs, making sure you’re not getting cold. And so, instead of getting to your destination in seven-ish hours, the trip itself takes you two days. You stop midway and find a decent room in a small inn, ending up sharing it together. He keeps his distance, but he has a hard time stopping his eyes from lingering, finding great pleasure in looking at you getting comfortable and ready for bed. His voice gets low and calm while you talk, letting the late hour lead your conversation towards more meaningful, intimate territory. Next day, once you get to his childhood home, he introduces you to his family, and at some point you catch his mum giving him a strange look. When you ask, he tells you he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. However, what you don’t notice is that he turns away while saying it, trying to hide his reddening face from you. You might be oblivious to his feelings, but his mother figured out that her son is head over heels for you the moment you walked into their house. 

He tries to teach you some Scottish phrases. You don’t really use them, worried that it would sound strange next to your regular, very not-Scottish accent. But then one day it slips out of your mouth. Maybe you got annoyed with him, which wouldn’t be surprising considering how often he teases you. The moment the words leave your mouth, a wide grin spreads across his face. He cheers like a lunatic, picking you up and twirling around with you in his arms. [And let me make myself absolutely clear – even if you’re a bigger person – you’re in the air. All you can do is dangle your legs above the ground and hold onto him for your dear life. His muscles are for practical purposes, not just visual.] 

If you playfully flirt with him, he shamelessly flirts back. With one simple comment, you unleash absolute chaos upon yourself. Hopefully you’ve got more pickup lines up your sleeve, cuz you’ll really need them. To this point, he was keeping himself in check, making sure not to overstep any boundaries. But once you flirt with him, it’s a green light, game on – he’s not stopping anytime soon. He’s a very open flirt too. He’ll use the most cheesy pickup lines on you, a wide smile permanently fixed on his face. Seeing him wiggle his eyebrows at you doesn’t even surprise you anymore. He’s also a rather physical person, so you’ll have to get used to him leaning in and playfully bumping your shoulders or knees together, or constantly resting his arm around the back of your chair.

[blue-boulder]

house md in 2020s headcanons

keep seeing people make these and i thought it was silly, so here’s my contributions:

- house finds wilson’s account on grindr and decides to catfish him. once the jig is up they silently decide to never acknowledge this again

- comphet cameron. nonnegotiable

- foreman has and posts somewhat frequently on instagram threads. nobody finds out because nobody else has threads

- before working at princeton-plainsboro taub specialized in BBLs

- house livestreams DDXs to put more pressure on the ducklings when he feels as though they’re underperforming. he has a decent amount of followers on twitch

- also i’m not sure how hospitals ran during the pandemic but i think at least one DDX during covid was conducted through among us. don’t ask me the logistics of that

- a few of chase’s old musical.ly videos resurface and he gets bullied for it relentlessly

- thirteen was one of the first people to reblog the weed smoking girlfriends post

- house and wilson watch love is blind, the ultimatum, love island, etc etc when skipping clinic duty & place bets on which couples are going to last and which aren’t

- despite dating at the time cuddy went to see oppenheimer and lucas went to see the barbie movie. at the same time in different theatres

- house makes a joke about someone having blue hair and pronouns. also that one post about how he spends two hours researching every pronoun in existence just to use the wrong one on someone would be real

- wilson listens to either broadway soundtracks on his way to work or hozier, no in between. he uses spotify but refuses to look at his wrapped out of fear

[sundrop-writes]

Push and Pull

Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader

Summary:

While playing games with Viper, Emily (accidentally) plays on your attraction to her - something you had been trying to hide since you started with the BAU. The results end up being more than interesting.

Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader - Co-Workers to Lovers. Smut, Sexual Tension.

Word Count: 2,800 words

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: smut; this is set during Season 4, Episode 9 (52 Pickup) and there is a lot of references to the episode in this, but I think you could read this without having seen the episode; mentions of typically sexist practices - in the form of ‘pickup artistry’: the reader character replaces Jordan Todd on the team; there is an age gap between Emily and the reader - Emily is older and the reader character is younger; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; mention of the reader wearing a dress and makeup; the reader has sexual fantasies about Emily - which include: pussy eating, fingering, rough sex, semi public sex, being called 'naughty girl’; most of the sex acts are in fantasies (this fic is mostly tension and build up and sexually adjacent situations rather than actual sex); masturbation (the reader masturbates); mentions of masturbation being unsatisfying or not feeling 'as good’ as having sex with the desired partner; caught masturbating - Emily walks in on the reader; Emily refers to herself as 'Mama’ (once); rough kissing, Emily gropes the reader through clothing, very light choking (from Emily toward the reader) (Emily puts her hand on the reader’s neck and applies pressure for a few seconds to get her attention), Emily calls the reader 'needy little thing’ (in this case the word 'little’ is meant to be condescending and not a description of size); undertones of degradation kink; I believe that is everything.

A/N: This was based on a request, and the original request mentioned fake dating (and I would love to do that trope with Emily), but I couldn’t stop thinking about how stunning and gorgeous Emily looks in this episode, and I thought it would be interesting to use it. Also the idea of a man basing his pickup techniques on women needing male validation when - hey, what kind of women wouldn’t want or need male validation? A woman who is obsessed with the other gorgeous woman at the table. It was such a fun scenario to write about. I definitely wanna write more Emily fics in the future.

...

At first, you really weren’t looking forward to it. 

Though it seemed fun in concept - having an excuse to dress up and go out to a club while on the job - Emily assured you that it was going to be miserable. 

The way Emily talked about the man - Viper. She almost made him sound worse than some of the confirmed killers you had dealt with during your short time at the BAU. She said that he was the scum of the earth, a waste of oxygen, that made her feel dirty just by giving her a weird look. She joked that she was ‘dragging you along’ because she didn’t want to suffer alone (that, and she needed backup, in case the guy truly was dangerous). 

From the way she talked about it, you thought the night was going to be miserable. 

You certainly didn’t expect it to be one of the best nights of your life. 

Viper frequented bars and nightclubs. So of course, nightclub appropriate attire was required. You rushed to a store and grabbed the first tight dress you could find (a red one with spaghetti straps that would pair well with a pair of modest black heels you already had in your bag for the job). You didn’t expect to come back and see Emily getting changed into a clingy black dress that fit her like sin, her makeup subtle but smokey. 

You had been actively suppressing your attraction to her, a gorgeous older woman, since you had joined the BAU a month ago. You told yourself that you could keep your lustful feelings under control because you would only be there temporarily, to replace their usual media liaison - who was on maternity leave. But seeing her dressed up like this, it certainly didn’t help with that suppression. 

Things only got worse when you got to the club and Viper descended upon the two of you. (You quietly whispered to Emily that his name should have been Vulture and the soft laughter she let out had your insides fluttering.) 

Turns out, Emily had been paying extra attention to the ‘push and pull’ technique that Reid had talked about. And even though you knew that it was just in the name of messing with the cocky man - you fell hook, line, and sinker for Emily’s combatants of this technique. 

See, rather than letting him push and pull the two of you - compliment one of you and leave the other one reeling for validation, Emily complimented you herself. She never let Viper leave room for you to need that validation. Not that you would ever need it from someone like him. But she certainly threw him off with this tactic. 

She supported you, focused far more of her attention on you than she did on him. The two of you never fell to the traditional ‘women in constant competition’ market that his techniques were built on. If she put far more of her focus on you and actively ignored him (or even not-so-subtly insulted him), then what could he do? 

Women not vying for his attention? It was a curveball for the ages. 

Clearly, he had no backup plan. He was struggling to keep up. 

If he called your dress cheap, Emily said how well the fabric complimented your amazing body. If he said your mascara was clumpy and poorly done, Emily said your eyes were naturally beautiful and shined bright without makeup anyway. 

The more annoyed it seemed to make him, the more she fawned over you. 

And it left you staring at her all night. Captivated by her beauty, her silky voice. You barely even knew that he was there as she laughed at him, engaged in his silly games, taunted him. 

By the time you left the club, you were almost high on the affection Emily had given you. 

The rest seemed to go by in a blur. The real killer was caught at a different club, and the team retired back to their hotel to get some rest before returning home. As you and Emily walked back to your shared room, you were still laughing and joking about the pathetic man who somehow made his living off of scamming men more pathetic than him. 

“And did - did you see the look on his face when I said ‘you probably go home alone, don’t you?’ - Like he - he couldn’t believe that I wasn’t falling for his BS,” Emily said, stuttering through her words as hardy laughter disrupted her speech. 

“It’s like he’s never met a confident woman in his life.” You replied, a delicate chuckle in your voice. 

It was a subtle compliment toward Emily, admiring her confidence in how well she had dealt with the scummy, overly cocky man. 

“No, not quite.” Emily sighed, using the keycard to open the hotel room door. 

Your insides fluttered even more when she held the door open for you. You couldn’t help but enjoy the domestic feeling behind it as you brushed past her body in order to get inside. 

Of course, she wasn’t even paying attention to the dreamy, starstruck look on your face as she continued speaking. 

“He’s never approached a confident woman before.” She quickly corrected, letting the door fall shut and click locked behind her. “He’s never approached a woman he thought he couldn’t con.” 

“And for some reason he dared you to ‘meet him on his turf’?” You questioned, repeating the words she had told you, when ranting about the previous interaction she had with the awful man. “You, of all people?” 

You had to wonder what about Emily Prentiss would come off as even slightly insecure or - what about her said that she would fall for his stupid tricks. In your opinion, it was like trying to outrun a cheetah using a tricycle. 

“Yeah, I guess he was counting on me being drunk and blinded by all his guyliner.” Emily joked, tossing her bag down onto one of the twin beds. 

You collapsed down onto the other bed with intense laughter. The joke itself was funny, but her delivery, her confidence, and her smile caused a spark through you that forced you to laugh off the tension before you jumped her bones. You had to be professional. You had to keep reminding yourself of that. 

“I call the bathroom first.” She announced. “I really need a shower after being drowned in Drakkar Noir all night.” 

You had to ignore the dryness in your throat and the heat between your thighs at the thought of her in the shower. Previously, it was something your mind could have easily glossed over, but after she spent the night fawning over you and capturing your attention completely, it was like you were a horny teenager again. Now all you could think about was her completely naked, droplets of hot water rolling across her skin, surrounded by steam. 

You had to pull yourself together. You had to be professional, for fuck’s sake. 

“But of course.” You told her, giving a smile and a nod. You motioned toward the bathroom, as if presenting it to her in a gentlemanly fashion. “I’ll probably just shower in the morning.” 

Emily nodded in acknowledgement of this, and there was no further conversation. 

This left your mind reeling, your body entirely tense and hyper aware of her every movement as she got ready. You had to busy yourself with grabbing your pajamas out of your own bag - an oversized X-Files tee shirt and a pair of comfortable cotton shorts - while she grabbed her toiletries bag and went into the bathroom. 

The water turned on and you tried your hardest not to think about her undressing and stepping under the stream as you changed into your pjs. You tried your hardest not to think about her tight, fit body relaxing under the steam. You tried your hardest not to think about soft bubbles rolling across her soft, pale skin. 

Clearly, you were failing. Failing not to think about her. Failing miserably when it came to suppressing your attraction for her. 

By the time you climbed into bed, there was a hard, hot pain between your thighs. 

You wanted so badly to simply roll over and go to sleep. You wanted to ignore it. But a very large part of you worried that if you didn’t ‘take care’ of that nagging arousal, then you wouldn’t be able to sleep. And if you didn’t sleep and you rolled into the next day with this attraction to Emily still at the forefront of your mind - then you wouldn’t be able to act normal around her for the travel day home tomorrow. You might say or do something stupid. 

You had to do something. 

The longer you laid there in bed, unconsciously squeezing your thighs together, feeling your pussy throbbing between them - thinking about Emily’s head being trapped between your legs - the more it bothered you. 

You had some time while she was in the shower, right? You could be quick. Of course you could. And if you heard the water turn off, you would simply stop. 

Before any true logic could catch up between your ears, a hand was sneaking below the waistband of your shorts. That hand easily went inside your underwear and found a natural place on your throbbing clit. You dipped down into your wetness (leaking out of you abundantly from how much you had been thinking about Emily) and slicked up the hot button before you began rubbing it in hard circles. You were determined to cum quickly and be done with it. 

You closed your eyes and tiled your head back against the pillow, your mind drifting back to her once again. You couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she looked in that ruby lipstick. All night, you had felt jealous of the glass when she brought her drink up to her lips. 

You imagined her approaching you at a bar. 

You would be out by yourself, and she would see you from across the room. So entirely confident, she would see you and in a moment, know that she could have you. 

She would come up behind you, whisper sweetly in your ear, telling you how perfect you looked. She would smirk at your initial shyness when you giggled at the compliment. She would tell you that she couldn’t wait to get you home - that she wanted you and she wanted you now. 

So she would pull you into a bathroom, pinning you against a counter. And then she would shove her hand under your dress, only to find that you weren’t wearing any panties, just for her. She would scold you, call you a naughty girl. Her voice so sweet and condescending, only making you wetter. And then she would shove her fingers into your slick cunt and shove her other hand over your mouth, trying in vain to keep your whorish moans from being heard as you begged for her. 

“Emily, please,” You couldn’t stop the faint, needy moan that escaped you as you got lost in the fantasy. 

Of course, so lost in it, that you didn’t hear the shower turning off. 

Your pussy ached, leaking freely into your underwear, and your clit throbbed, emanating a needy pain out through your pelvis. You worked your fingers in more frantic circles, doubling down. Your hips canted up off the bed, knocking the covers off you slightly as dull pleasure radiated out across your hips. 

(Dull compared to what Emily would have given you, you were sure.) 

Even if it was unsatisfactory, you were close. 

“Emily-!” You cried out desperately, right on the edge of orgasm. 

“Hey, do you have some makeup remover I can borrow? I forgot-” 

Shock cascaded through your system and you instantly stilled your movements. This caused your orgasm to become a low hum in your pelvis once again as your eyes shot open in disbelief. 

Your gaze locked onto Emily where she stood in the bathroom doorway. Your insides were still with shock - embarrassment or any other emotion hadn’t even caught up yet. 

Steam ploomed around her and she was forced to hold up the hotel towel with one hand as it couldn’t fully wrap around her body, leaving a sliver of her skin exposed from her armpit to her knee - the curve of her breast, her waist, and her hip on full display. With her hair soaked and her bangs slicked back from her face, and true to what she had said, her makeup still on but slightly smudged from the shower - she looked utterly delicious. 

She was like a pornographic dream, live in front of you. 

You let out a quiet whimper at the sight. 

It was only then that your brain began to unfreeze from the shock, and you realized how truly incriminating you looked. The covers pooled around your thighs, your hand quite visibly inside your shorts, your face contorted with pleasure as your eyes scanned over her half naked body. You rushed to rip your hand out of your underwear - and you realized the sight wasn’t much better as your fingers glistened in the light. 

Emily’s eyes moved from your glistening fingers to your stiff, nervous body, your thighs still parted (as it would be too uncomfortable to clamp them down on your wet underwear and aching cunt). She smirked at you. She looked at you with the same devious, cocky expression that Viper had started out the night with - before she had taken him down notch by notch. 

The look alone caused any apology to be stuck in your throat. You waited for her to speak before you made any moves. 

“What were you thinking about?” She asked, her voice breathy, soft, yet entirely commanding. 

In that moment, caught in the smoldering gate of her eyes, you could find nothing but honesty pounding inside of your chest. 

“You.” You whined quietly. 

Emily chuckled gently. 

Your stomach twisted with embarrassment for the split second that you thought she might be laughing at you. But then you realized that it was, in fact, a sound of satisfaction. 

That realization hit you when she dropped the towel completely. She stood in front of you proudly, showing off all of her naked, wet glory. Her dark nipples pebbling in the air, the damp sheen of water making her skin glow like a dewy goddess. Quite obviously, she wanted you to look.

Your eyes traced a few thick droplets of water as they escaped her hair and ran down her body. You became absolutely mesmerized by the way gravity pulled the water over her collarbones, the teardrop curve of her breasts, the plushness of her stomach, across her pelvis, down her thighs. You imagined yourself tracing over those exact lines with your tongue. 

“Come to me.” 

Her silken voice snapped you out of your trance. Your eyes shot back up to her face once again, and in the sluggish moment that it took the words to get to your brain, she added something onto the command that absolutely knocked the wind out of you. 

“Come on. Come to Mama.” 

Her calling herself that name, so self assured, so certain - the phrase almost had you down on all fours, crawling to her like a dog. 

But instead, you scrambled to get upright and practically ran across the room to her on shaking legs. Entirely eager, you stood in front of her and leaned in to press your mouth against hers. Naturally, you expected that the interaction would start with a kiss. 

But she quickly reached up and stopped you with a hand on the side of your neck. You let out a harsh whimper of disappointment - one that quickly turned into a moan when she pressed her thumb into your windpipe with just enough pressure to make your brain go fuzzy. 

She was showing you who was in charge. 

“Not so fast,” She told you, her breath cascading against your lips now. 

Although she was completely naked and you were clothed, it was very apparent that she was the one in complete control. 

“Tell me how badly you want it.” She ordered, her voice low and almost gentle - a soft domineering that caused the hairs on your arms to stand up straight. 

“I want it so badly,” You easily replied, your voice intensely needy. “I need it. I need you, Em.” 

Emily reached up with her other hand and - with no warning - harshly gripped your pussy through your underwear and shorts. This caused sharp shocks of arousal to flow through you, making you moan out weakly. It was a dizzying euphoria that had you bucking into her hand. You almost came from that single touch alone. 

“Needy little thing.” She purred. “I am gonna have so much fun with you.” 

This was her last verbal sentiment before she pulled you forward by that hand on your neck and silenced any further moans with a bruising kiss.

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, so there will not be a sequel or a continuation of it. If you enjoyed the fic, please comment about the body of work that has been written here. And if you like my writing style, please check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist or my other Masterlists for other fandoms.

[fanged-fanfics]

Hello! I saw requests are open (maybe I lagged if they aren't and I'm sorry if they did have a nice day!) But if the requests Are open then may I ask for Wukong and Macaque x female reader hc's?

The reader us a really worried person so she always asks for when her monkeys are gonna come back about the time, place, who they are with. Not cause of insicurity, but more for concern as she knows demons could be after them and kidnapp them or something. But sometimes the boys forget the time or come back like 1-2 hours later and then the reader is like clingy and is scolding them with a concerned tone and also saying that she called many times if the monkeys had their phones on.

I'd like to see their reaction, how'd they act, how'd they calm the reader down, how they'd react afterwards and more! If you are not gonna write this it's alright I hope you have the greatest of days and I am sorry for wasting your time.

🌙💜 Anxiously Waiting — Macaque and Wukong x Fem Reader HCs 🧡👑

Genres: Romance, Mild Hurt/Comfort || she/her pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆˚｡⋆୨🌙👑୧⋆˚｡⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹

- The first few times it happens, Macaque is pretty defensive. He's never responded well to being scolded, and that includes when he just gets home. After having the situation explained to him though, he starts to calm down. He still has a habit of coming back at odd hours of the night for a while, but he slowly adjusts it to being back within a certain time frame

- Macaque won't admit it, but he understands the concern. Especially after the period of time where he was forced to work for Lady Bone Demon. He remembers how he felt back then, never knowing when her or her lackey were gonna show up again. So even if he may complain or grip initially, he still takes the time to make adjustments for you

- Now that he's used to it, he'll be more reassuring when you're anxious about his late arrivals. He explains to you where he was, talks you through your worries and lets you check him over to be certain he's okay. He allows you to cling as much as you want when he's back

- He makes sure to send you some sort of message or warning if he thinks something is gonna be keeping him extra late. Aside from that, he's really not the best with phones since he's been so detached from mortal inventions his whole life, but he made sure to memorize the call and text function for you. He uses his keen hearing to make sure he doesn't miss a notification and can always respond

- Macaque does try to offer you some techniques he knows to reduce anxiety to try and help you be a little more accommodated when he and Wukong aren't around. Things like scents (candles, incense, etc), meditation, or even just leaving some small trinket behind for you to hold on to in the meantime

- Wukong, on the other hand, admittedly understands the worry right off the bat. He knows he's led a very dangerous life, and he's still learning to accept that there are people relying on him and looking out for him again

- He feels bad about you being so worried, but he at first downplays it by accident with his laid-back attitude. He ends up feeling really guilty every time he messes up, and how his attempts at joking around like usual don't seem like they're helping

- After leveling with you and communicating everything, Wukong tries his best to be as attentive as possible. He knows things like the training he does for MK and helping stop end of the world threats usually keep him very busy, but he texts you much more frequently about how things are going

- That being said though, being so busy means he might miss a few messages. And when he comes home late, he allows you to vent out your concerns without any interruption. Afterwards, he reassures you on how everything was okay, apologizes profusely for forgetting, and offers to do anything you want to relax now that he's back

- Wukong tries to help ease your concerns with pictures. Once he's got his hands on a phone, he'll begin using it to take a bunch of pictures of where he is and who he's with. You get a lot of ones with MK that are either blurry cause he's in the middle of training or posing along with Monkey King. He especially makes sure to take pictures if he and Macaque are in the same area so you know where both of them are

- Both Wukong and Macaque make sure to spend as much time with you as possible when they're home to try and make it easier. Macaque does it in more subtle ways, calmly hovering around you or offering a snarky comment every once in a while. Wukong is more obvious, making sure to have physical contact with you in some way and trying to actively participate in whatever you're doing

- When one has to go out but the other stays, the one that's still home tries his best to keep you grounded and comfortable. He amps up the affection too in an attempt to make you feel better, and also sends reminders to the one that's out to keep you updated

- If they know they're both about to leave for a while, they have conversations with you about it the earliest that they can. They use their own methods (Macaque being calming and Wukong being comforting) to ease you into the idea. Once they are out, they do their usual methods to keep you updated and stick to you like glue when they get back

[samfucker]

gulp... darlin hcs... this is kinda long... i use he/they pronouns here. hes a cis dude in my eyes i just type they out of instinct.

hes called julius

mexican-asian! (their dad is mexican, their mom is cambodian. they were born in mexico but moved to washington when their dad got a better job opportunity.)

his dad has a teardrop tattoo and one of those "cut here" tattoos on his neck. he's also blind in one eye

their mom is beautiful but #evil. she always had her nails painted dark red

julius' favourite colour is dark red

he got 4 siblings!! hes the middle.

their older sister was the typical 2000s teen girl. ik yall are envisioning the hairstyle im talking about. she also brags about how she loved leopard print before it got popular.

also shes a kesha lover. now she listens to chappell roan. she IS casual.

as an adult, their younger brother works with animals! their older sister has an online job and their older brother is a mechanic. their younger sister is in college and julius hates her bf. the one sided beef is crazy. theyve never even met in person.

he did boxing as a teen and his little sister used to do dance

ik more of the fandom wants them to have happy childhood BUT NOT ME!!!!!!1

BOOM UR PARENTS SUCK!!

their dad sold their wii for drug money (am i projecting)

their mom is worst than their dad muahahahahah

they had a saint bernard called Pooch growing up and a yappy little chihuahua that his mom loved. that dog also refused to die. like im talking this dog got attacked by a bigger dog and had a tumor and got hit by a car and survived. by the time the dog died it had a leg missing and was blind. the vet bills were crazy

even tho their parents were shitty, they could never bring themselves to hate them even though they wanted to. when either of them would pass out on the couch, he'd cover them with a blanket and clean the living room and kitchen. when his mom would be upset, he'd sit and listen to her even tho she never did the same to him

he doesnt talk to his parents now and he makes jokes about what he went thru to cope, but he wonders if they're doing okay, if they got healed and became better people or if they passed away and they never knew.

the bond they had with their unempowered friend was the same bond asher, david and milo have. his friend was called trevor.

julius was trevors first kiss because trevor complained about feeling like a loser since everyone started dating around their teen years LMFAO

their first concert was a metallica one that they went to with quinn

they worked as a waiter for a while as a teenager and had a work bestie that was like 40

guyliner...........

I STOLE THIS HC FROM A FIC IVE READ IF YOU FIND IT PLZ LMK SO I CAN CREDIT!! but they worked in a fighting ring at one point

my own add on to the same hc: during this time, they had a shitty little apartment and the most decorated space was a dresser dedicated to their fish, soda pop. that fish was spoiled as fuck and he cried when soda pop died

he frequented a diner to the point the lady behind the counter knew his order beat for beat

when they were teenagers, asher took inspo from their style. they used to wear those little black wrist bands with the little spikes (do yall know what im talking about) and thats where ashers love for his spiked collar came from

they do not have a single pair of blank socks. they all have some sort of stupid design on them

also ofc, the rubber duck, courtesy of domini.

they hate haircuts

they HATE the grocery store. they get overstimulated and wanna die immediately.

best meal theyve ever made for themselves is mac and cheese. from those little boxes.

aggro bit them one time and theyre still upset over it

TATTED AS FAWK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and they have piercings GODDDD THEYRE SO FINE

they also have sharp canines (im bouta bust)

i know yall want asher to have heterochromia but i hc julius has it. HOWEVER! I hc asher has anisocoria (one pupil bigger than the other). they bond over having eye conditions

they also fell out of a tree in the middle of the woods one time and cracked their head open and broke their leg and had to limp home

the first ever scar he got was on his chin when he and his brother were pushing each other around (as brothers do) and julius fell and cut his chin open. its very faded now, but his brother brings it up somtimes

one time, out of boredome, he ran away from his brother at the store

his little sister would hide between clothes in the store and would need to be called for on the intercom

i have more. theyre my fav listener. all my hcs go to them.

[llamagoddessofficial]

I am already in love with the idea of Eclipse, and I am quite intrigued by the fact that it doesn’t respond at all to being called Nightmare. Is this because it is controlled a little more by Dream? Or is there another reason for it?

Also, are there other facts about him we may hear, pretty please?

OF COURSE you may hear more facts, dear Val. I've pondered up a few more things.

It uses he, they and it pronouns.

It seems very elegant and godlike. A combination of its intimidating stature, its overpowering aura, and how silent it can be when it chooses. It's eyelights can feel like they're nailing you to the ground.

When it's with someone it wants to talk to... say, a friend or lover... it's actually kinda silly?

It likes harmless pranks, it loves bad jokes. Its humour can be borderline childish - as if someone in there is trying to relive something. It adores anyone who engages with its antics, even a little, and telling it a joke of your own is a surefire way to draw its attention.

It likes animals and food, art and music, it has a fondness for gardening. Particularly trees.

Cats absolutely adore it, no matter the universe.

When it's feeling a particularly strong feeling, strange almost imperceptible shimmers of deep ruby red colour will start emanating from it. Like solar prominences.

It likes to stare. A lot.

... Though it knows it shouldn't, sometimes it uses its total knowledge of the emotions of others to say incredibly specific, deep cutting things out of nowhere. After an hour of silence, it looks right at you and says "i think she would be very proud of you."

No one's really sure if it's its own new entity, or a combination of Dream and Nightmare. Perhaps something in the middle. It doesn't seem to bear any ill will toward anyone the brothers disliked - though it definitely retains their old attachments, frequently following around people either one found important.

Despite how calm it looks, it possesses a deep and frightening protectiveness of those important to it. Its loved ones should never be in danger, not even for a moment. If it senses a desire to cause harm to anyone it loves, it doesn't hesitate to kill.

The reason it doesn't respond to Nightmare is unknown. Nightmare is very clearly in there, in the mannerisms and voice, in the interests and faint blue shimmer when its magic is observed from the right angle.

Perhaps he's enjoying finally resting, after all this time?

[thunder-opossum]

Time has come for a pinned post, sigh ...

Online status: Not Gone Fishing 🎣

Hello!!!

I am thunder-opossum, call me what you like as long as it makes sense!

My pronouns? Pick from these 3: she/him/them

I am a MINOR. I shouldn't have to elaborate on what that means. I have the standard DNI list, but I would also like to mention please don't joke about/ talk about alcohol, drugs, smoking, vaping, substance abuse, or anything under similar categories. You can interact with me if that is your kind of thing, but please don't mention it around me.

Otherwise feel free to message me and chat, I'm a flighty person and get quickly exhausted talking to people; so please excuse any rudeness on my part, I'm working on it.

I am also a slow typer and appreciate tone indicators.

About me!

I am a self taught artist, I've been doing digital art since I was 11! The program I use is ibispaintx premium version with a stylus.

I am in school, so I can't post as frequently as possible.

My other hobbies include writing, hanging out with animals, fishing, talking to myself, yapping.

I'm exploring the idea of identifying as therian. I like to connect myself to animal behavior in a way. I like imagining myself with a tail and ears. It's a guide for me to explain myself. Something to ground me in reality. Refer to me as an opposum if you wouldn't mind. I find it funny. This creature just represents me.

My tags!!!!

Most are self explanatory, I'll just put the highlights in.

#my art - self explanatory, check this tag out for every single piece of art I've posted.

#thunder's rumbles - rants on my life or my characters

#txt post - posts containing only text

#asks -any ask that has been answered

#thunder fishes - a tag about fishing

#opossum posting - creature mode

#🌲 - something I want to look back at when I need some happy thoughts

I use cw's and tw's but mostly the former. I do occasionally post, or talk about my mental health. I usually tag those though.

#my ocs - trying to use this for gift art I've received now

#rw sizzling waters - an au I'm making that is gaining traction!

Art Permissions!

You can use my art as long as you provide clear credit to me and do not claim it or use it for ai.

You can use my designs of pre-existing characters but not ocs.

My current interest: Rain World

Some random things I occasionally remember I love (could be used as a conversation starter):

Manned wolves, river formations, little big planet, glass animals, modest mouse, my common yt rabbit holes, weather phenomenons, worms on a string, dachshund, and so much more.

Cool things credit: teeth dividers

Thanks for visiting!

[argisthebulwark]

Like Real People Do

summary: Whether it's for protection or social necessity you need a husband. He's your first choice, but falling in love was not part of the plan. (marriage of convenience trope) gn reader, no pronouns or yn used feat: Farkas, Vilkas, Brynjolf, Teldryn warnings: very brief mention of blood/injury, brief nightmare scene

"Of course." Farkas agrees without a second thought. The friend who laughs off all your worries - he's never failed you before and he won't now. "Just don't expect a fancy proposal on such short notice." Marrying Farkas isn't too hard. You practically choke on butterflies when he stands before a Priest of Mara and pledges himself to you, words dripping with sentimentality. You'll get to keep the family property and he gains a home away from Jorrvaskr - it's a win for you both. It's terribly easy to fall for him. The little crush you've harbored since childhood becomes harder to ignore. It isn't helped by the sickeningly domestic habits Farkas adopts; a kiss on your cheek when he's leaving for an assignment, late nights spent in front of a crackling fire, his hand on your back when you're both in the kitchen. You bite your tongue but gods, it gets difficult. It's hard to laugh it off when he jokes about finding you a proper husband, heart aching when he bids you goodnight and shuffles off to another bedroom down the hall. No sense in ruining a good thing, you tell yourself, gazing at the broad expanse of his back. Your comfortable life comes crashing down when Vilkas returns alone. He tells you that something wrong, that nothing went to plan, but you cannot hear him over the waves of terror. Days of promises and apologies fall on deaf ears. They can strategize all they want - your heart cannot bear another moment without him. You should have told him. Guilt threatens to choke you - would he be safe if you'd told him how desperately you love him? Would he be a bit less reckless if he'd known? Boots crashing against wooden floors. Doors flung open. Vilkas barks orders and your heart is in your throat. His armor is shredded and old blood is dried across his chest but he's here. Farkas is tripping across Jorrvaskr and hands you know so well clasp your face, a quick kiss enough to leave you faint. "Sorry I worried you." Farkas mumbles against your lips and you cannot hold it back any longer. "I'm in love with you." You blurt the words out, terror chilling your blood. A short burst of laughter is all you hear before he's kissing you again, thick arms dragging you entirely against his body.

Vilkas seems constantly prepared for you to admit that it's all been one long joke. Even when his hands clasp yours in the temple of Mara there's an odd reservation in his expression you've never witnessed, a shyness he'd never exhibited. "It's not like it has to mean anything." You explain, though the twist in your gut says others. "It's these damned inheritance laws! I couldn't let the family farm be sold off -" "Stop talking before I reconsider." Sharing a home with him is odd. Not bad in any sense, it is just strange to see Vilkas so dressed down. You're allowed a view of him you're fairly certain no one else has gotten before - hair tied back and face scrubbed of war paint, armor tucked away and wearing a loose sweater. It's difficult to look at him - your husband - and not fall a bit more in love with him each time. "You're staring." Vilkas frequently interrupts your train of thought. It sets your cheeks aflame and you quickly whirl back to whatever task you'd been ignoring in favor of gazing at him. His presence is quiet but Vilkas continues to surprise you. Over the months your worries are quelled as his belongings are slowly shifted from Jorrvaskr to your home. A coat rack near the door overflows with cloaks and sheaths he's collected and his books are squashed next to yours on every shelf. Days off are spent lounging on your couch or following along through all of your duties, his hand hovering near your arm on rainy days. Teeth the size of your forearm growing closer with each second. You try to run but your legs move too slow, arms pumping as if you're moving through mud. You try to scream but choke on the thick layer of smoke. Talons close around your middle, scales scraping along your bare skin and god it hurts so bad, the beast's hide is burning - Gentle hands shake you back to reality. Orange light spills in you struggle to breathe but he is here, brown eyes flooded with worry. Sweat coats your back when Vilkas wrenches you across the bed, shaky fingers combing messy hair away from your face. "You're alright." Vilkas grumbles, tucking you close to his chest. The horrible memories felt so awfully real but Vilkas' presence forces them into the past, the cool metal of his ring a comfort while he rubs calming circles over your back. "Just a nightmare." He doesn't spend another night in the guest room. You tell yourself that it's for his peace of mind, surely he'll mutter something about losing sleep due to your nightmares any moment. The air is thick with tension when you slip into bed with Vilkas, expecting a lecture and finding nothing but soft hands drawing your head onto his chest.

You should've known better than asking him. Brynjolf's grin makes you consider rescinding the desperate plea and trying to find some other way out of your predicament. There's got to be a better option, right? "'Course I'll be your fake husband. We can head to the temple right now if you're ready." Too easy. You've prepared talking points in anticipation of his arguments - never did you expect him to simply agree. "Nevermind, I'll figure something else out -" "Too late, love." Nimble fingers raise your hand to his lips, a dramatic kiss placed along your knuckles. "Best wear something nice if we're gettin' hitched." There had to be a better option, right? Sure, your parents have been on your ass about your future and you'd rather die than admit to being a leader in the Thieves Guild, but is a husband truly the best distraction you could offer them? And is he the best choice? It's annoying how good he looks in fine clothing. Brynjolf's voice overflows with false adoration when he stands before your family and vows his life to yours, green eyes so intense you don't dare break eye contact. Goosebumps appear over your skin when he cups your hands. He's selling it too well, for a brief moment even you believe he's madly in love. Even more obnoxious is how good he is all of this. Regaling your family with carefully edited tales of your exploits together as adventurers, an affectionate hand on your lower back or a stray kiss on your cheek. You aren't sure why your blood is heating so much but you're desperately regretting your choice in fake husband. "You're too good at this." You mumble, teeth grinding against the urge to lean into his touch. "You asked for this, love." There's something unreadable in his eyes when he stares back at you, the low pitch of his voice sending a shiver up your spine. "You wanted a distraction, right?" Luckily, your family doesn't visit too often. Brynjolf's teasing comments are easy to handle around the Flagon but each time a holiday approaches your gut tightens. Soon, parents and siblings will descent upon your home, leaving you with no choice but to seek your husband once more. "It doesn't have to be this way, y'know." Brynjolf murmurs late one night. Sharing your bed with him feels dangerous - the rest of your family slumbers down the hall and without their overbearing presence you're alone with the annoying man who makes your heart do backflips. "What do you mean?" You mumble, trying and failing to sound bothered. "We could be - I dunno," from across the bed his fingers find yours, sending little sparks of excitement up your arm. "We could be somethin', right?" Against your better judgment, you cannot deny his words - you could be something great.

"Seems like too good of a deal." Teldryn leans back in his chair, arms crossed and drink ignored. You can't see his eyes behind that damned helmet but can feel the way he assesses you, trying to sus out whatever you're hiding from him. "What do you get out of this?" "Hopefully a discount on your fees." For a beat you're terrified he'll reject you. He studies you a moment longer before letting out a sharp bark of laughter and one ungloved hand smacking at yours. "You've got a deal." Over time, your trips to Skyrim become more manageable. Your chest no longer tightens with anxiety when Gjalund leads the ship into Windhelm's docks. Teldryn's arm loops easily around your shoulders and and carries your pack from shop to shop without a single complaint. You still hear the whispers your title always brings but thank the gods, folks are no longer prying into your personal life. No meddling parents join you mid meal to pitch their child as the rightful spouse to the Last Dragonborn nor do Jarls hint at available property in their Holds. With your husband at your side you get a taste of what's evaded you since that awful day at Helgen - a normal life. "Speak plainly - why did you ask this favor of me?" Teldryn's dry voice sends your heart into your throat. "You're the Dragonborn, I'm sure you could have anyone you want." "That's the problem." Your voice wobbles but you owe him honesty. Dark eyes watch you without judgment, the low orange light of sunset illuminating the tattoos curling over his cheeks. "I can hardly breathe anywhere I go. People want my help or offer their sons and daughters up to be the Dragonborn's spouse. Lords and Jarls want the bragging rights of the Dragonborn choosing their town to settle down in. None of them seem to realize I am a person." "Ah, spoiled for choice." Teldryn chuckles, falling onto your bunk. The ship pitches and send him rolling into your side, a flush in your cheeks when he doesn't move away. "You know what would solve all those issues?" "Hm?" Teldryn's chest is pressed to yours and his hand curves around your jaw, thumb tracing along your lips. You cannot help but stare at him, fully anticipating some awful joke. "If you got yourself a husband." He smirks and your fingers twist into his tunic ready to shove him to the floor. "Tel." "A real husband." "You offering?" "Could be." He's so close it hardly takes any work. Just one little shift and your lips brush, noses bumping briefly before his hand guides your mouth against his. You know that you are falling all over again when his little chuckle against your lips sends your heart ramming against your ribs. "Still seem like too good of a deal?" You mumble, elated by his body pressing impossibly closer to yours. "Kiss me again and we'll talk."

[lambouillet]

LAST UPDATED ON: january/25/2025

─⪼ Hi I'm FIORE !

they/them ☦ Young Adult ☦ artist, worldbuilder and maybe game concept artist : ^ )

🖍️ Art Gallery ─ ✏️ Doodles

LAMBS OF GOD ( Au/Fangame Mockup/Worldbuilding )

NEVER WONDER ( Deserter / The Land of Dreams )

📭Asks are always welcomed! I like to take my time crafting a response though so I may not respond as quick as others.

I have a terrible habit of rewording/rewriting my posts often so if some things sound a tad different than what youve initially read thats most likely the culprit 💔

⚠️ DISCLAIMER/BYF: I have a spiritual, folk catholic, faith healer background that i use heavily to influence my work. As such, most of what I make is going to be inspired from anecdotes of my life that I might share when I feel appropriate!

I unfortunately can't realistically tag all of my posts with trigger warnings but the ones that you'll have to look out for and that'll appear often (but aren't necessarily explicit) are: Gore, Religious imagery, Religious abuse, Decapitation, Child death, Animal death, Suicide, Body horror, pregnancy horror(implied), self harm, and nudity.

Pr0sh1p/T3rfs DNI. And anyone neutral.

Extra FAQ under the read more ↓ check out my friend MTSODIE : )

FAQ:

Asks & dms

📫 ASKBOX

As mentioned above, all is welcomed, HOWEVER, I'd appreciate if you extend some of your courtesy to me and do not send me anything that's along the lines of being sexually charged. Suggestive jokes are fine, but that does not warrant that I'll be over the moon with descriptive inappropriate asks. Alright? mind yourself. If you would be uncomfortable sending it to a teenager or a stranger than you probably shouldn't send it in.

Don't send me personal discourse. If you have a problem with another user It should be dealt with privately. In no way am I ever going to be in a position where I can give you an answer for this. Remember, I am just a random guy, on the web!

related but slightly unrelated, I will block people freely, whether you've done the above or not, that's just how I like to curate what I see and I do it very often. It's not personal don't take it as such

Otherwise, everything else is free reign (unless I say so) go nuts, insane even.

📨DMS

Anyone can dm! askbox rules still apply. Can't guarantee that I'll reply back if the conversation starts with just a "Hi" or "How are you" though. I'd really only prefer you message me if there's something to tell or I've done something to elicit you to do so.

General

💬Do you like Narilamb

outside of very few instances, not really ( said without disdain or dislike )

💬Where does your username come from

Its Rambouillet with "Lamb" instead of Ram : )

💬 what's your lamb's name/pronouns/gender/etc

They don't have one! they dont deserve one, they don't deserve anything. They/them nonbinary androgynous. I'm fond of the name Lambert but I will only use it as a tag for organisational reasons.

ART RELATED

🎁Can I make Fanart/Fanfics of your au/ocs?

Ofcourse! Absolutely! You don't even need to ask! Only thing I'll ask of you though is for you to tag me in them so I can see them... These will always guarantee a smile on my face.

🎭can I use your art as a pfp/post it to Pinterest?

I'd rather you not use my art for anything unless you've had my permission or its art I made for you! Definitely don't post it around other places without my knowledge. I don't have any other active socials besides here and probably bluesky under Lambouillet ( that i ought to post more on, weh )

🎨🖌️Program and brushes

I use Clip studio paint for most of my art and Aseprite every once in a while.

I change what I use sporadically so I can't give you a proper answer on EVERY brush I use but here are my frequent ones:

Shockgrunge Marker and Pencil

Kasuy MK sploon

Tacodemuerte Mrsplotchy

Scribbly Dark

Jarijari

Bathylychnops Brushes

Intoxicate set

🚩 Where'd you get the borders from?

I made them! Part1

Wip Master post and useful visualiser for anyones whos read this far ♥️ muah

[kittybroker]

Intro post!

I'll reblog cat pictures and value the kitty.

Now I'm sure you're all saying kitties are all valuable, and while that's true one cannot simply dismiss the importance of proper accounting in today's economy.

If you want to submit a picture of a cat you can use either the ask function or send in a post submission and value it yourself. Feel free to tag me into any kitty post you want.

Please make sure to read the FAQ below before sending in any questions.

While I am mostly a joke blog, please be wary when sending overly personal/strange asks, particularly when I do not know who you are. Absolutely do not ship this blog with other blogs, and particularly do not make comments to me about this.

Any/All pronouns are fine for referring to me.

Tagging system: I'll tag all the cats here with #crazy kitty The pricing of kitties is set into one of five categories:

#free bin - $0 kitties #bargain bin - Under $5 #discount kitty - Under $20 #valuable kitty - Under $50 #premium kitty - Anything over $50

#alt currency is used for any kitty not using kitty dollars.

Note that kitties from before 27/01/24 may not include the #bargain bin or #premium kitty tag as those tags were introduced after the blogs creation.

#set deal - For pairs kitties sold together #collection - For collections of different kitties in a collection

#silly kitty - For memes and humorous kitties #art - For drawings of kitties or kitties with art attached #fake kitty - For kitties that aren't really actually kitties at all

#text post - For posts that aren't actually evaluations #asks - Posts that are sent via ask #tagged - Posts sent via tagging #in the replies - Tags from the replies of a post #my cat - For pictures of my cat

I'll probably post my own cat a bit here as well and tag that with #my cat.

Submission: Submission open on the last day of every month, and at times on the 15th if there is space in the inbox. You can submit kitties by tagging me in posts or sending asks (when the inbox is open). I will not always get around to tags as sometimes there is too many to get to or I have already evaluated the post. I prefer people tag me into a post over DMing, and will not evaluate a kitty sent in DMs. I would also ask you to not send too many asks or tags in a row simply to avoid too many posts being sent in at a time and allowing others to send stuff in. If you are unsure on how to tag me please refer to the FAQ, do not message me asking how to tag me into posts.

Rules for submission: Please no real people or anthropomorphized cats. Anything that is pretty much just human is a big no go zone for evaluation (particularly evaluating real people). As long as it's clearly an animal I don't really care. Do not tag me into more than 2-3 posts at a time.

FAQ

Why hasn't my ask been answered? I get a lot of asks, and I can't answer everything. It usually takes a few days to a week to get around to answering an ask. Sometimes the ask may also contain a submission that cannot be posted, ie you submitted a real person, a cat in the harmful situation or with wounds. For text based asks I cannot get to everything and am frequently inundated with comments. Not all will get a response. If you ask a question answered in the FAQ I will not answer.

How do you evaluate the kitties? The economy guides my hand, I merely see the truth of what is already there.

I tagged you into a post, but you never responded? I get a lot of tags, and often a lot of the same post. I will try to avoid responding to the same post multiple times (sometimes I forget!). Sometimes I just have so many tagged posts to get to I have to cut some out. I do see every tagged post though so you're post will still be seen, even if not answered.

What is the most valuable kitty ever? Our current estimates would put Intergalactic Shiro, now at an impressive 720000000000

What currency are the kitties evaluated in? They are all in Kitty Dollars. I've never heard of this "USD" or "Euro" stuff. None of it is real.

I want to tag you in a post, but I don't know how? To tag me into a post you will need to reblog the post and add the tag into the text field of the post (no the tags!). If you type @kittybroker you should see this blog appear in a dropdown menu. Select kittybroker and then reblogging the post. You can also tag me into the replies of posts by opening the notes, heading to the replies section and tagging me there with the same method.

Can I submit myself? Many before have attempted this perilous feat. Yet I remain strong. No real people will be evaluated!

Kittybroker, your evaluation skills are incredible! Do you even do anything with your life? Much of, if not all of my free time is devoted to the careful and articulate study of today's tumultuous market. However, I do sometimes dabble in music. You can check out my music library at https://chroniclesofautumn.com/library or take a look at my soundcloud archive. A lot of it is classically notated scores but there are recordings around the place.

Do you have a cat? I do, although I rarely post it out of both privacy concerns and the sheer number of other kitties sent in. The rare occasion I do however they will all be tagged. His name is Boris and he is around nine years old. He is very crazy.

That is all for now! Remember to stay crazy and kitty!

[cameronspecial]

The Story Of Them

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Swearing, Drug Use, and Unhealthy/Toxic Relationship

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 5.5K

Summary: They thought that their story was supposed to be a fairytale, but what happens when the universe is showing them signs that it isn't because of their vices. Should they keep fighting for them or should they let their story come to an end?

Masterlist

It’s like their relationship has bipolar disorder. One minute, they are in an argument worse than any world war. The next, they are manic in trying to be consumed by each other, not caring if they are reckless. They are each other’s first loves and hope to be their last, so they ignore the warning signs of an unhealthy relationship that they probably shouldn’t have. They both have their faults. Hers is her lack of communication and his being reliant on his addiction. If any of her friends are in a similar relationship as her, then she would be the first to warn them about the red flags. But for some reason, she is blinded from seeing those flags with Rafe. When they first started dating, everything was amazing. They were young and believed that it was them against the world. Their dates were full of laughter and innocent love. They thought that they could have that feeling forever; however, reality has a funny way of creeping in and crushing rose-coloured glasses under its boots. Even though Y/N and Rafe fall victim to this realization, they still hold onto each other because they are all that they know. Their story doesn’t have a happy ending, but at least they can say they had one to begin with. At least they can say they loved each other with a fiery passion that went out with a bang. 

———

Even before they started dating, they weren’t allowed to have a sense of calm between them. Rafe didn’t know what it was about her. He’s never seen any other girl as more than someone to warm his bed; however, Y/N could never escape his thoughts, not through his dreams either. Could it be the way her fingertips graze the bottom of her dresses as she fiddles with it? Could it be because it doesn’t take just anything to elicit a laugh out of her? He really had to put thought into the jokes he told her to hear those delicious giggles. Or could it be that she wasn’t afraid to stand up to him or back down? No matter what it was, Rafe knew he wanted her to be a permanent fixture in his life. He approached her with jagged fingernails that he had to remember to file when he got home. She sat on a bench in front of the school, waiting as always for her brother to pick her up. He cleared his throat to catch her attention and she looked up from her phone with a small pout to her lips. 

She was surprised to see him. They ran in the same social groups, yet interactions between the two were not very common. She had to admit he found a way to take the breath from her lungs, whether that be through making her laugh or a sweet action that surprised her. She didn’t think she could ever catch his eye. He was the most popular boy in school and she just hung out with the most popular girls. She was timid; not confident. She was quiet; not loud. She was stubborn; not docile. She was nothing like the popular girls and that was why she stood out to Rafe. It didn’t mean she thought she wasn’t like the other girls. She embraced her femininity and knew that in this large world, nothing she did could be unique from another human. It meant she recognized the fact of being different from the types of girls Rafe normally frequented, so she didn’t think she had a chance. She believed he hated her for those qualities. He wasn’t used to people disagreeing with him and this made her think he wouldn’t like her. She preferred to keep to herself during their group's social outings, so why would he notice her? Similar to the rest of the man-loving population of the school, Y/N had fallen for Rafe’s charm. Who didn’t love a man with a dazzling smile and who knew how to please a woman sexually? Fuckboy or not, the world couldn’t deny the fact that Rafe was the fixation of its attention. 

“Hey,” he greeted with a soft smile. She got butterflies solely by the way he was looking at her, “Hi, can I help you with anything?” She didn’t meet his gaze as she pulled a strand of hair behind her ear. He gestured to the seat beside her. “Can I sit?” She nodded, “Yeah, I’m just waiting for my brother.” “I know,” he admitted without any thought that he could be seen as a stalker because of his statement. Her head tilted to the side, “You do?”

“Uhhh, yep. I noticed because I see you getting into his car every day when I leave football practice.” 

“Right, I guess it doesn’t take rocket science to figure that out.”

“No, it does not. I’m going to cut right to the chase before I lose my confidence. Y/N, will you go out on a date with me?” 

Her lips parted slightly. “Date?” She knew he didn’t do dates and she wasn’t opposed to having a fling with him, except calling it a date gave her a promise of something else and she wanted to make sure they were on the same page. Nerves racked through him at her reaction. His diminishing nails came between his teeth to soothe him. “Uh, yeah. It could be dinner or a movie or go axe-throwing. Anything you want really,” he presented, lifting a finger at each activity. “I know what a date is. I was just wondering if the activities would be done so you can end up in my pants. It’s okay if you only want to have sex, just don’t pretend you want more,” she clarified. Her vision dropped to the floor and she observed a ladybug crawling in front of her. Ladybugs were a sign of good luck, so it tricked her into thinking this had a favourable ending. Rafe’s smile fell, “Wow, I can’t believe you think so lowly of me.” She tried to backtrack to explain herself. He pushed her shoulder, “I’m just kidding. I know I’m not known for wanting to commit to a woman. I think you are different. I can see myself getting married to you, Love.” “You aren’t lying because going on a date means you are open to the idea of devoting yourself to me. Are you sure you are ready for that?” she verified, meeting his eyes. 

He agreed, “I am fully prepared to be yours.” She couldn’t be happier. The man she liked wanted to be with her. “Then I would happily go on a date with you.” It was a dream come true.

This feeling quickly changed the next day. She was at her locker when she heard the rumour. “I heard Rafe had sex with Y/N yesterday,” a freshman muttered to her friend behind her hand. It was still loud enough for her to hear. Fury devoured her. He said he wanted a relationship with her and he lied. Why else would he go around telling people they slept together? She knew that rumours have a way of snowballing, yet she decided not to go to Rafe to discuss this issue. Instead, she did what she did best and iced him out of her life. 

Rafe didn’t understand why she wasn’t answering his texts until he heard the whispers himself. “Crap. Crap. Crap,” he swore, leaving football practice. She probably thought the words were his truth and that is why she was angry with him. He didn’t take the time to take a shower and get his stuff. He could do that tomorrow. What was important was that he cleared the air with Y/N. She wasn’t on her normal bench in front of the school, so he assumed she must have gone home already. He drove as fast as he could without breaking any laws to verify his conclusion. She sat on the porch swing, swinging with the wind. Her gaze was fixed out towards the street. At the sight of him, she got up from her seat and headed inside. “Love, wait,” he pleaded, jogging up the porch to catch up with her. His foot wedges between the closing door and the door frame. He followed her into the house. She continued to ignore him and went up to her room. Once enclosed in the privacy of her room, she turned toward him with annoyance in her eyes. “I could call the police on you for trespassing,” she warned. Her arms crossed over each other. Rafe’s jaw clenched, “Go ahead. See if I care. I need to talk to you.” “You don’t get to barge in here and order me around,” she complained.

“I can if you aren’t listening to me. I assume you’ve heard the gossip about us and we need to talk about it.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you. You lied and I’m not naive enough to give you a chance.”

“WE NEED TO TALK. WHAT THEY SAID DIDN’T COME FROM ME!” 

She leaned back at his yell, “I don’t like it when you talk to me like that. It goes to show that you aren’t mature enough to be in a relationship. His head moved from side to side as he let out a low chuckle. “You seriously are calling me immature when you are the one who doesn’t even want to talk. That’s childish,” he responded. She pointed at the door, “If I’m so immature, then we don’t have to go on that date anymore. I don’t want to date someone who is a liar and a juvenile.” Rafe stormed out of the room with a slam of the door, not before snarking. “Gladly. I don’t want anything to do with you either.” 

———

Y/N remembered the first time she realized she was in love with Rafe. They went on a date eventually and it had been the beginning of their story as a couple. Flowers. Giggling. Kisses. Hand Holding. It all made them feel as though they were on cloud nine. So far, there had only been small fights in between since their argument about the hearsay about menial things, such as where to eat or who has to pay. The first notion of her being in love with him popped into her mind while he was on the football team. They had been playing against their rivals of Kildare County and the students of Kildare Academy were cheering in hopes of encouraging the team to get a lead on the other team. Per his request, Y/N was in the front row, wearing his jersey. Her voice attempted to be louder than anyone else in the crowd. Rafe was thrown the ball and as the clock got closer to zero, he dashed toward the endzone. He masterfully dodged every opposing player who tried to tackle him, making it to his destination. He slammed the ball into the ground and cheered in victory. The air horn singalling the end of the game blasted through the air. Rafe secured the win. 

It wasn’t the win that guaranteed her heart; it was being the first person he wanted to celebrate it with that gave him her heart. Whilst the rest of his team ran to congratulate him, he had his path set on someone in the stands. He began his jog, throwing off his helmet onto the grass. Y/N ran to the fence separating the benches from the field and Rafe climbed up it to meet her. His hand cupped her cheek to pull her into a kiss. She moved her lips against his and her fingers ran through his hair. The roar of the people dulled to the buzzing of a bee. All she smelt was the sweat that had started to accumulate on his skin. The world ceased to exist when his lips were on hers. “I love you,” she mumbled against his petals. “I love you too.”

The euphoric feeling died that night as well. That same night was when she also realized whatever she had with Rafe didn’t have a chance at forever. No matter how much they both wanted it to. They had gone to the after-party to celebrate their triumph and Rafe had promised her he wouldn’t drink that much. He was supposed to drive them home at the end of the night. In all honesty, since the party was at Topper’s, she didn’t mind if he drank because they could stay in one of the guest bedrooms as a last resort. The discovery of their ending being bound came with what an inebriated Rafe executed thanks to the drink. Y/N’s front pressed against Rafe’s side. She was swaying her hips and his head bopped, pressing the lip of his solo cup between his. Robin bumped into Y/N and his drink poured all over her back. She flew into Rafe’s hold to escape the fizzy drink. The man repeated his apologies, ripping off a piece of paper towel from the counter behind him. Y/N reassured him that it was okay and took the towels he offered to dry herself off. Rafe wasn’t forgiving like his girlfriend and the alcohol in his veins meant his hot-tempered personality was even easier to trigger. He yanked himself away from Y/N. His feet lead him so his chest is pressed against the other male’s. “Watch where you are going, asshole,” he growled.

Y/N placed a hand on Rafe’s chest to separate the two. “Honey, leave it. It was an accident.” Rafe disregarded her words, cocking his face at the blank face on the boy’s face. His fist collides with that face. Robin stumbled back from the force and his nose started bleeding profusely. Rafe provided no time for the bleeding man to recuperate. 

Rafe dove onto Robin and knocked them both onto the ground. Robin’s head banged again and again against the floor. The party-goers fled the area to give the fight space. Y/N jumped onto Rafe’s back and tried to peel him off of the smaller boy. “Honey! Get off of him. Please, you are going to kill him. Look how much he is hurt already,” she shrieked. Tears ran down her face. His drunken state focused his attention on the source of his rage. Not his girlfriend’s pleas. The attack was ended only with the help of Topper and Kelce; they dragged their friend away from the injured boy. Y/N rushed to check on Robin with concerns. Not solely because he was a victim of her boyfriend’s anger, but because if he died it would be bad for Rafe. This made Rafe see red and he sped to his girlfriend. His hand circled her bicep in a vice, wrenching her to her feet. She was jerked toward the stairs leading upstairs. He threw her into one of the empty bedrooms before slamming the door shut. His eyes bore into her, “Why the fuck were you so worried about him? Are you cheating on me with him?” “How can you say that? You beat him like he was dough, so I had to make sure he didn’t die,” she yelled back. Her face was now streaming with drops of frustration. His accusation was ironic considering he was the one known as the ladies' man before they started dating. 

“I had to defend your honour. I did this for you.” 

“You didn’t do this for me. You did this because you were drunk. If you did it for me, you would’ve stopped as soon as I begged you to leave him. It was an accident.”

“Why are you so angry about it? You shouldn’t care about him? You wouldn’t unless you were sleeping with him.

“For god’s sake, Rafe. Stop bringing that up like it’s a fact. I have never touched Robin in that way nor will I ever. You know what? I’m done talking about this. I’m going to sleep. I’m taking the bed, so you better sleep on the floor.” 

Rafe wasn’t surprised that she shut down during their argument. She had a good way of wanting to escape any type of true communication. Just like she did after hearing the rumours and during every other minor argument they had. The drinks in him began to make him drowsy, so he didn’t argue. They both got settled in their perspective sleeping arrangements, facing away from each other. Sleep didn’t find them though. Y/N was too busy thinking over the fact that the night started with so much hope. She sensed merely adoration for him and now, it wrapped up with outrage. She doubted the possibility of a happy ending for them because he may love her, but she would never be able to fill the holes his addictions were able to. Her fears caught up to her and released themselves with a sob. Rafe’s heart clenched at the sound of her sniffles. He hated being the reason for her unhappiness and had to make it better. The blanket fell off of him as he got up from the ground and encroached toward the bed. He carefully lifted the blanket from her body, sliding in beside her. His arms found her waist to bring her closer to his chest. His head dropped to her neck and he pressed a kiss on her soft spot. “I’m so sorry, Love. Of course, I don’t think you are cheating on me. It was because I was drunk. I’ll never drink again. I love you,” he promised. Her breath hitched at his words, letting it slap a bandaid on her aching heart. “I love you too.” She let this dissolve her belief of their destined un-fairytale ending and fell asleep with this lie.  

———

Y/N let things ruminate inside of her. Problems she had with people were kept locked up inside of her, locked away forever. This stemmed from her hatred for talking through her issues, which was ironic because she was known to have a voice when her stubbornness came into play. However, if her unwillingness to do something wasn’t in her mindset, then she let it stew inside of her. It drove Rafe mad because he never knew what was wrong with her. That was till she found snide ways to express her frustration. Rafe returned home from class, leaving his shoes in the middle of the hallway. Y/N approached the front entrance of their off-campus house to greet her boyfriend. She spotted the shoes he left and sighed, not surprised by his carelessness. “Of course, leave your shoes there, in the middle of the room, like a child. Let me pick up after you like your mother,” she grunted under her breath. She leaned down to grab the shoes and placed them on the shoe rack. Rafe paused from walking further into the house, turning toward Y/N. “What was that?” he paused with his head cocked. She gave her attention to him, “Nothing, Honey. How was your day?” 

Rafe’s head shook and his hand lifted. “You murmured something, Love. I heard it. So tell me,” he ordered. She huffed, “I was talking to myself.” “Yeah, about me. If you can say it to yourself, then you can say it to me,” he noted, bringing his finger to point at his chest. Y/N’s arms crossed over her chest, “I don’t want to talk about this, Honey.” She tried to remove herself from the room, except Rafe held onto her wrist. “Tell me,” he instructed. “No.” She yanked her arm away from him and stormed upstairs with Rafe in tow. “You don’t get to do this, Love. You don’t get to just ignore the problem when I confront you and then be snarky about it later on,” he insisted. She froze in the centre of the upstairs hallway and looked at him. “I am not talking about this,” she gritted through her teeth. She entered their bedroom with a slam and a lock of the door. Leaving Rafe to feel exasperated by her constant avoidance. 

———

The clock showed eight and she didn’t know why she was staying at the restaurant. He left her waiting there for an hour. She had one idea where he was and she was going to confirm this suspicion. Her car sputtered on the unpaved road, coming to a halt in front of the trailer. Rafe heard her door slam shut from inside. He checked his watch. “Shit,” he groaned, trying to tidy up the evidence of the drugs he was using. Barry laughed, “What has your panties in a twist? Where are you going? I still have so much stuff for us to use.” Rafe’s head moved from side to side. “I can’t. I’m late from dinner and Y/N is here,” he informed. He checked the mirror to wipe away the residue of coke on it. He was too late. Y/N opened the door to catch Rafe dusting off the white powder from under his nose. Wrath filled her, “YOU TOLD ME THAT YOU QUIT.” “Love, I promise that I’m not doing it as often. It’s only to blow off some steam sometimes,” Rafe pledged, rushing to her side with blown pupils. Her eyes cut into slivers, “This is the fourth time this week that you’ve been late to something. That doesn’t count as sometimes.” Rafe gapped at her like a fish, opening and closing his mouth. 

“I’m sorry that I was late, Love. How about we go back to the restaurant and you can order whatever you want. Order the whole menu for all I care,” he proposed. He tried to make the mess go away with a flash of his teeth. Her arms shuddered at her sides, “You don’t get to pretend everything is alright. You deceived me by saying you were getting clean when it was a lie.” He tracked her outside and held the driver’s side door of her car closed. He fell to his knees with his hands held together. His folded hands quaked, “I will quit. I will never touch another speck of cocaine or a drop of alcohol again. Please, just let me take you out to dinner.” She towered him from her standing position. She saw the tears bearming his eyelids and she felt her own about to make an appearance. She didn’t understand why the universe was constantly pushing them apart. She didn’t know why their sweet relationship always had to have a bitter aftertaste.“Don’t make a vow that we both know you aren’t going to keep.”

———

Ultimately, the bitter overpowers the sweet and she can’t ignore it anymore, toppling the last dominion of their relationship. Barry finds her when she is returning home from the grocery store. “Country Club owes me money,” he utters, causing her a fright. She drops the paper bags she is holding and the items inside litter the floor. Y/N twists to look at him with a frown, leaning over to pick up her fallen purchases. Once she straightens up from her actions, Barry slams her against her car. “Did you hear me, Bitch? Rafe owns me money,” he restates. Y/N glares at him, “And last time I checked, I’m not Rafe. Go bother him with your problems.” “See, he knows that he does and he doesn’t care, so I’m bringing the problem to you because I know you’ll listen to me,” he warns, griping her jar tightly. “Get me my money or else.” His eyes burn into her and she meekly nods her head. Satisfied with the response, he pushes off the car and gets onto his bike, leaving the girl behind. She almost wants to laugh at the idea that Barry thinks she would talk to Rafe about this. No, this encounter would be taken to her grave. 

A week later, Barry returns to their house in a fury. He pushes through the semi-open door, almost causing a tried Rafe to nearly fall on his butt. “It’s been a week. Where is my money, Country Club?” Rafe rubs the sleep from his eyes to give the dealer a crossed look, “We talked about this. I don’t owe you anything.” “Yeah and then I had another conversation with that bitch of yours. I made it clear that I had a different opinion,” Barry explains, laughing. The creak of the steps reveals the arrival of the now-awake female. Her palms dig into her eyes as she slots herself in Rafe’s arms in just his t-shirt barely hiding her pastel green underwear. “What’s going on?” she croaks. Barry jeers, “There is the woman of the hour. I hear you didn’t tell your little boy toy about my visit.” Rafe pulls away from her to give her a confused look, “What is he talking about?” Freezing at the mention of her confidentiality, she pads over to the side table by the door. Her hands dig through the drawer to pull out a wad of cash Rafe keeps there in case of an emergency. She presses it into the brunette’s chest and shoves him out the door. “There is your money. Now, leave us alone, asshole,” she commands, slamming the door in his face. This is going to lead to a fight and she doesn’t need for there to be an audience when it breaks out. “He threatened you?” Rafe confirms with his fingers pointing at the door Barry left from. 

She exhales, “Yes, last week.” “Why didn’t you tell me? Did you hurt me?” he wonders how he didn’t notice. She exposes her unharmed body to him, “No, he wanted to scare me with dramatics. That’s it.” “That is beside the point. He could’ve hurt you. You know, this is exactly like you. You never tell me anything that is going on in that vault of a brain of yours,” he accuses, crossing his arms. Her head whips toward him, “Oh, no. You do not get to bring this back to my problems. Your problem is the reason why he came to me in the first place. If you had gotten clean in the first place like you promised, he wouldn’t have come to me in the first place.”

“That is not fair! I’ve been trying to get sober. I’ve been trying to get sober for you.”

“Maybe… maybe that’s the problem. Honey, I don’t want you to get sober for me. I want you to get sober for you. Because you realize just how much this is hurting you. How much it is changing you as a person.”

“Why can’t I want it for the both of us?” 

“Because I think sometimes you want to do it just to spite me and that’s what stopping you. You want to prove me wrong, which means you are doing it for the wrong reasons so it won’t stick. I think… I think that maybe that is what our whole relationship has been.”

This breaks a damn in Rafe. The broken look of realization on her face calls forth tears in his eyes, “What do you mean, Love? Our whole relationship has been about our love for each other.” “Has it though? Honey, all we ever do is fight. How is that love?” she poses, enclosing her small hands around his bigger ones. His blurry vision finds her, “We fight because we are fighting for our relationship. Because we care.” “Honey,” she whispers with agony. “We both know that even before we started dating, our vices made us like fire and ice.” “And we overcame those problems. Together. Please don’t talk about us like this we are over. We can work together. We can get through this,” he argues, gripping onto her like a life vest. “Until the next fight comes along. Then we are at each other’s throats, getting in as many digs as we can to hurt each other. How is that love, Rafe?” He doesn’t have an answer for her. All he wants is to give her a thousand reasons why they are meant to be together, except he gets completely overwhelmed by the situation. “Please don’t say we are over,” he begs.

“Don’t think of us as over, Honey. Think of this as us completing our story, giving us the chance to go on to make a new one.”

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t, mean it. You just need some time to think it over. I know it. So I’m going to go to give you some space. And when I come back, we can talk it out.” His words aren’t an order; they are a plea. He leaves her with the hope that the distance from their emotions will help them settle the argument because he doesn’t know what he will do if it doesn’t work. 

———

Rafe didn’t think she was serious about breaking up. They’ve tried to separate so many times since they started dating, except it doesn’t mean that either of them actually went through it. She thought it would be the end after she got rid of his stash one time. His anger burnt hotter than the sun and she thought she would wake up in her bed alone. That morning, she woke up to whisper apologies and kisses to her stomach. He thought it was done when she found out that he was the reason she didn’t get a spot in the study abroad program. The thought of being away from her for a semester terrified him. She came back two days later with tears streaming down her face, saying she understood why he did it. She wouldn’t have been able to be gone for that long either. 

He is wrong about this time. As he walks into their home, it is like he walked into the wrong universe. What made this house his home feels different and yet he chooses to ignore it. The first thing he notices is that her shoes are gone. No neighbour for the pair of shoes he is abandoning at the door. The first clue should’ve been the lack of Y/N, but the fight they had would’ve been the explanation for that. He tries to tell himself she is going through her shoes and that is why they are missing. He goes to the kitchen to fix himself something to eat and get a beer. She won’t like it if she comes back home to find him drinking, so he’ll have to finish it before she does. He gobbles the peanuts and alcohol down in record time. With his snack completely, he heads to their bedroom to get changed out of his suit into something more comfortable. He neglects the absence of her personal items in the room, too preoccupied with thinking about what to make for dinner. He’ll make smothered pork chops; it’s one of her favourites. When he is about to go to cook, he realizes he should buy her flowers first. He slips on his shoes and walks to the grocery store. It will give him time to go over what he wants to say to her once she is home. He doubts she will be home until dinner, so why rush? He has time. 

Jasmine spots Rafe’s nearing figure and her lips tighten into a straight line. This isn’t his first visit to her. He is here at least once a week to buy Y/N flowers because of an argument. “How bad is it this time?” He scratches the back of her neck and gives her an awkward smile, “It was disastrous. Blue hyacinths and baby’s-breath, please. Oh, and that vase.” He points to a tear-dropped-shaped vase. The opening is smaller than the base and it is circled in ridges. Jasmine bobs her head, filling the glass with water prior to placing the bouquet into them. Rafe pays for the items and walks back home. He sits the vase in the middle of the dining room table and begins to make dinner. He plates the food, setting it on the made table. Everything is in place. The cutlery. The food. The drinks. Rafe. Now, all he needs is for Y/N to come home so they can make up. The hours of the night creep up on him and he eventually eats alone because if she isn’t home by now, then she probably won’t be coming home tonight. He uses Saran wrap to cover her room, placing it in the fridge with a sigh. He hopes she is safe wherever she is. 

Day after day the flowers go unadmired by the person they are meant for. Soft petals shrivell up like aging skin. The vibrant blue turns brown, which signifies death. Rafe keeps them in the vase even if they are long gone, hoping she will see the effort of his action. As the flowers progress in the later stage of decomposition, Rafe recognizes that Y/N will never see them. Because it genuinely is over. Their story is complete. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @victory-in-the-llama

[necroangelz]

　　　 ˖ 　✦　　𓌔　　i want you to die for, for you to die for my love

in the night your heart is full, and by the morning empty　　　　 ˖ 　✦　　𓌔

♡　　personal rentry 　❀ 𓈒　 tag guide　⟡

ᛝ　keep reading for　𝜗｡　blog info 。。⠀₎₎

🕊️﹒　◟ fetching credits . . .

— CREDITS: Account layout　﹕　Heart divider used in pinned　﹕　K-Angel replycons made by 🎀 anon　﹕　Dividers

🪩﹒　◟ opening blog_info_tldr.docx . . .

🎐 — DNI: Basic DNI　﹕　Radqueer　﹕　TransID　﹕　Against anything related to my identity (kin, mogai, etc.)

💌 — BLOG NOTES: Edit posts are slow.　﹕　I don't edit with GIFs. 　﹕　I do not take requests anymore.　﹕　I don't know much about most discourse that's commonly discussed online and I don't care.　﹕　I often speak untranslated Tagalog here.　﹕　I use a typing quirk. (You = uu)

🎐 — SIDE ACCOUNTS: @xxxnecrotica ; rants, fandom reblogs, & others　﹕　@necroangelz-archive ; archive　﹕　@necroheavenz ; layout testing

🍥﹒　◟ opening extended_intro.pdf . . .

haiiii wsg my name is moonlightttt but also commonly called angelllll.... what u just read above is some important info for my blog. as u may have guessed i'm just your average tumblr user on editblr!

my (main) pronouns are SHI/MUSE/KILL (i use like so much pronouns though lmao) i am a GIRLTHING LESBIAN and a MINOR (older than 14. u won't be told my age) living in the PHILIPPINES. go ahead and d0xx me now (FOR LEGAL REASONS THAT'S A JOKE! :3) since I'm filipino, i can speak tagalog as well! I'm not the best at it but i try.

i am a fictionkin!!!!!! that means i am multiple fictional characters and i have past lives as some/most of them!! they are embedded into my identity and who i am as a person and i will bring up such topics frequently. <3 i usually theme my profile after my kins, and currently it's k-angel (again. i think it might be k-angel forever. you can't fight the k-angel unfortunately. being fictionkin is really important to me so if you think fictionkin are lesser than irls/fictives, hate on us and think we're "insane" etc. please get away from me <3

I'm not very social so i don't interact with others often.... i tend to silently follow people and like all their posts without talking to them LOL. but I'd be more than happy if people reached out to me first ^_^

[koko-heads]

meet my mcs!!

i've seen a bunch of ppl do this for their olnf mcs and i wanted to join the bandwagon lawl

these are my mcs, luca and mabel "maab" de melo! luca is on the qiu route and uses he/xe pronouns, while maab is on the tamarack route and uses she/star pronouns. before moving to golden grove, the twins and their momma opal lived in an apartment in portland; opal was born in manaus and lived there until she was 15, when she and her parents moved to the u.s. luca and maab are fraternal twins —both transgender— and they're both autistic with ocd. (fun fact: they transitioned at around 6 and took each other's names!!)

luca de melo 🍁

step 1 - as a 10-year-old, luca was a pretty quiet individual who let his older twin maab do the talking for him. he'd always wear his trusty bear ears as a safety item, communicating with facial expressions or gestures. funnily enough, he was more chatty with people he didn't know than people he did know. he loved his rollerskates as well as comic books and superheroes, with superman being his favourite. he loved opal the most in the whole wide world, and was as thick as thieves with maab. however, he always had a hollow pit in his stomach because of not knowing his dad. despite being taller than his twin, luca generally shrunk into himself and didn't mind blending into the background. he had stumbled across the word 'queer' and figured that was a good use to describe his romantic orientation! fun.

when he met qiu at the treehouse he fell head over heels for him immediately. luca would always want to spend time with the other kid, and blushed profusely any time he would compliment him. he wasn't too fussed on tamarack on the other hand, finding her personality a bit much for him. honestly, he didn't really like her. he was okay with baxter and darren, though.

step 2 - 14-year-old luca was a far cry from the shy, bear-ear-wearing kid he used to be. he spoke more frequently, but most of his vocab was peppered with swears. he had a more confrontational attitude and was more quick to anger, usually letting his fists do the talking; he knew the principal's office like the back of his hand and was no stranger to lectures about "no hitting" and "violence is never the answer" but he didn't really care. he styled his hair into locs and traded his bear ears for baseball caps and beanies. he abandoned his rollerksates a while ago, choosing to use a skateboard. his interests in comic books and superheroes drifted into an obsession with MF DOOM. he also realised that he was actually gay. yay for self-actualisation!

his relationship with autumn morphed from a sweet puppy romance to a playful relationship, where the two were attached at the hip. the once-shy boy who hyperventilated even *thinking* about being in the same room as autumn was now holding their hand and teasing them like it was nothing! luca was now the one who was making the moves and coaxing autumn out of their shell; they would joke around and flirt with one another but they didn't put a label on anything because labels mean commitment and commitment means yikes. they were happy though. they had each other and that was all that mattered. luca avoided tamarack like the plague, thinking her a 'weirdo'.

-

maab de melo 🍂

step 1 - mabel (pronounced mah-bel) used the nickname "maab" among her peers, only allowing opal to call her "mabel". maab was a chatty and sociable ten-year-old, happy to talk for herself and her brother. as the older twin she felt she had a lot of responsibility, despite being shorter than him. she found it easy to adjust to golden grove, and enjoyed the change of scenery. she also had a good relationship with her momma opal, but she always felt that opal liked luca more than her. she also loved her rollerskates and decorated them with tons of stickers. she very much had the "boys are stupid" belief and made that belief verrrrrry well-known. she was queer too!

upon meeting tamarack in the bushes, the first thing maab blurted out was "you're pretty". from then on they were two peas in a pod! maab loved spending time with tamarack and always felt a fuzzy feeling whenever the two hung out. conversely, immediately upon meeting qiu she made it clear that she didn't like him and they would never be friends. she wasn't keen on baxter or damien either! oy vey.

step 2 - as a teenager, maab's "boys are stupid" belief launched into a full-blown "we need to dismantle the patriarchy" manifesto. she was an out and proud feminist and activist, not caring who she made uncomfortable with her beliefs. her smart mouth made her the enemy of quite a few boys in her class, but she couldn't care less. she really got into tyler the creator and bought his albums. she still used her rollerskates, and got matching piercings with luca to symbolise their bond. she didn't need to speak up for him anymore, so their siblinghood had mellowed out to gentle ribbing and teasing, as well as being there for each other through thick and thin. however she had convinced herself that opal would never love her as much as she loved luca, and resigned herself to that fate. she and opal bickered frequently and she was often in her feelings about how she could never live up to luca's standards. quel tristesse. also, her coming out as a lesbian didn't come as a surprise to literally anyone at all.

maab's relationship with tamarack only strengthened throughout the years, with her comforting and reassuring her whenever she felt insecure. they also both had braces, so that was fun! maab gave her the nickname "bowie" because yay nicknames. on the other hand, if maab and autumn weren't enemies before they sure were now. the two had never gotten along, but now the feelings of enmity were mutual.

[the-irken-pony]

Compilation of disorganized facts (and derived headcanons) about The Henry Stickmin Collection's "narrator"

First thing’s first, since I typed more than I should’ve for a single bullet point.

Who is this “narrator” anyways?

In this post I’m talking about the implied source of the fail screens, bios, and certain other interactions in the game (which I’ll get into as we go. It’s implied that this character is the same across these different sources of meta interactions.

It is possible that this character is a self-insert of PuffballsUnited, but for the sake of this post we'll assume that this isn't Actually Puff. I feel weird tying my blorbo detail-plucking thoughts to an actual person and don’t want anyone making assumptions about Puff based on anything listed here, plus certain things may be added, exaggerated, omitted, etc. to the character for comedic effect in a way that further delineates the two. (tl;dr narrator ≠ author)

The wiki (derogatory) notes a theory that this character could be Wilson Stone. Granted, it’s not an entirely groundless theory: there is no message on the fail screen for D.E.B., which could be seen as a result of Wilson dying. I disagree with this for a couple of reasons: Wilson is referred to in the third person in his bio, the narrator makes a disdainful comment about the CCC having a surplus of nukes in CtM (there’s little reason for Wilson to be opposed to nukes but not a dark energy bomb), and Wilson’s voice is different from the narrator’s (I’ll get to that later).

The general fandom consensus that I've seen uses "the narrator", but this character/being/whatever isn't known by any name officially, nor any pronouns. For simplicity's sake, I'll refer to this character as "the meta" or “the meta voice” and use they/them and it/its interchangeably for them (partly to distinguish from the large surplus of male characters). I prefer “meta” over “narrator” and “commentator” because it doesn’t really narrate anything, it gives more than just commentary, and just because it rolls off the tongue better.

More on the meta

It comments frequently on Henry’s stupidity, but it’s hard to truly baffle them. Not that Henry hasn’t managed to before in fails such as Cheese and Distract.

Getting the obvious out of the way, they’re known to crack jokes of all sorts, including memes, wordplay, references, & callbacks.

Lots of these jokes are at the expense of Henry, the player, or someone else. It frequently makes disparaging comments about the player or Henry in general; more common jabs include fatphobic comments toward Henry or making fun of the player’s poor skill.

Speaking of Henry and the player, it typically uses “you” for both you (the player) and Henry himself, but it does also differentiate between us and Henry, such as in the Duplicatorange fail and Toppy fails, even noting you to not be a stick figure

Not only are they aware of the player and Henry as separate, but they’re also aware that you’re playing a game.

The meta seems to have the most control over the timeline, including what counts as a “fail” and when a fail cuts off, as shown in the duplicatorange and invisibility pill fails.

It has a certain amount of control over the nature of the game itself. The slingshot fail in FtC has them creating various popups that the player must click through to get an achievement. This power isn’t limitless though: the CorrupTick fail in particular shows that things can fall out of their control.

They’re capable of summoning objects (this is implied in Dance Off v4 and outright confirmed in the Lockpick fail).

The free transform option also shows that it has the ability to directly alter people in-universe. The mind control fail implies that it may also be able to outright control people to an extent, but finds this difficult and thus avoids doing so.

They seem to exist in a flux state between being “the game master” and simply being a bystander. It knows at least a little bit about nearly every character in the game and has some control over the environment, but it also reacts to events as though it’s just a spectator and seeing things for the first time.

On a related note, they seem to be in a state between being “in” the game and existing outside of it. Things that would wipe out everyone in the vicinity have no effect on it, but things that alter things on a meta level (such as the corrupted disk, Goodball, and CorrupTick fails) do affect them in various ways.

They aren’t omniscient. They have info on nearly everyone, but they don’t know everything. A lot of their comments in fails seem to be guesswork, and their bios for some people, notably Ellie, are very lacking.

It can feel pain. They complain about their ears hurting from the high pitched sound of the sonic pulse. At the same time, it isn’t nearly as sensitive as Henry or other stick figures and can survive the subsonic wave with little consequence.

It can, supposedly, use the bathroom.

The duplicatorange and invisibility pill both imply that the meta voice has some sentimental attachment to Henry, triggering a fail screen whenever they lose track of Henry.

Related to the above, it seems to have a vested interest in keeping Henry alive, despite having killed Henry themself. Revenged is notable as an ending for the fact that Henry dies in every outcome, and The Betrayed isn’t much better in this regard.

It also shows mild concern for Henry’s wellbeing in RPE/RBH, asking him if his head is okay.

While it’s unknown if they know all languages, they do at least seem to know German, specifically commenting on Friedrich Spielen’s nonsensical German.

They can sleep and even dream; in the G-inverter fail they comment that they “had a nightmare like this”. It’s unknown whether they need sleep or if sleep is simply recreational for them.

I don’t know if the above indicates that they used to be affected by gravity or if they simply had a dream about being affected by gravity, but given their ability to simply hover at a point in the air or even outer space, they probably aren’t affected by gravity at any point that we know them.

The meta is aware of other timelines, making a reference to Charles during the helicopter fail in Toppat King.

While it doesn’t have a known physical appearance, it does occasionally emote with hand-drawn “emoticons”, some of which are even animated.

On rare occasions, it can conjure Twitch emotes or even a full animation of a stick figure.

Feel free to add if you think of anything!