#so like at that time she’d be kinda butch

[operas-phantom]

“Is there anyone in this opera house who loves men—“

[butchvampireheimerdinger]

The Great War

A/N: So this was made in response to a request but it ended up blossoming into a full 2K word fic adjacent and I had to split it into two posts! Anyways, if you enjoy sexy and occasionally soft Sevika, dramatic arguments that result in comfort, and mob-wife vibes… enjoy!

Warnings: Not smut but mentions of sex and both characters are D O W N B A D.. A lot of cussing and mentions of violence.

Pairing: Butch!Sevika X Femme!Reader who is super outgoing and forward

🂱 So the two of you’ve met briefly around town, kinda running in the same circles. You notice her right away but you don’t actually talk until she shows up at work — The Last Drop.

🂱 You’re a server and your charisma, magnetism, and punchy/blunt sort of energy makes you well suited to hospitality. You’re the bubbly outgoing type of waitress who gets their table laughing and in a good spirits with ur contagious good vibes.

🂱 You beat the other waitress to claim Sevika’s table, and it’s on.

🂱 She would get a kick out of it — your shamelessness. She really likes the forward thing, timidity makes her roll her eyes. Life’s too short for playing hard to get! Plus, she’s an adult. And a literal revolutionary who quite literally does not have the time for all that.

🂱 Before you learn each others names you endearingly and lightheartedly call her “butchy,” or something like that. She calls you sweetheart.

🂱 You’d pour her beers on the house. You’d lean over the bar counter on ur elbows, making sure ur titties look good and perky. And if it was just the two of you, she would not hide her ogling.

🂱 It’d be a bit of a game to you two. Making the other person crack, being the first to back down/get all blushy. You’d be all flirty-flirty over the bar counter, she’d pull you into her lap during her card game. It’s like how straight guys play gay chicken. Except ur actually gay so it would just be chicken.

🂱 And she’s smoking indoors, as per us. You ask if you can have a hit. She shotguns it into ur mouth and you blow it upward, once again drawing attention to your décolletage, to the girls hehe

🂱 Eventually she just asks you straight up if you wanna spend the night. Maybe you take her up on it, maybe you don’t. Either way, she’s not the fuckboy (fuckbutch?) hit it n quit it type. She’s an adult woman with emotional intelligence and communication skills goddammit and she’s gonna ask you to dinner.

🂱 Takes u to the fanciest place in the undercity, orders everything on the menu trying to flex her wallet and impress u. Whether or not u ask for it she gets you one of those weird rich people desserts where they make part of the preparation an “experience.” like they pour hot liquid over a hollow chocolate shell and it cracks open and reveals a little cake inside. Or something involving a blowtorch.

🂱 Anyways this whole time ur just rubbing ur lil high heeled foot up her pant leg under the table and twirling ur hair, touching her arm, etc. Naughty girl — she mock-scolds you telepathically with a dommy little eyebrow raise thing.

“Here? Now? I pull out all the stops to give you a magical evening and you already wanna leave and bang it out. That’s real classy, sweetheart.”

🂱 You’re both rather bold and upfront, obviously. Strong personalities, fire sign energy — which means you butt heads often. Your relationship is super intense and fiery so every day is like a soap opera, or like The Real Mob Wives of Staten Island in levels of drama.

“Why the hell didn’t you come home last night? And why did i have to find out from Vivi that she saw you cracking skulls in a fishing boat by the pier?”

“Babygirl I told you I was taking care of business. Sweetheart, uprisings don’t happen overnight, it’s all about biding time and strategically applying political pressure in Topside-”

“Jesus, Mary, and the goddamn camels you and your strategic goddamn pressure. I’ll tell you I’ve fucking had it with you and your fucking pressure. You wanna make me look like an idiot? When me and my girlfriends are sitting drinking mimosas for brunch at Jarrod's and they ask me ‘Y/N where’s that woman of yours?’ And i have to look them in the eyes and say “Clint Eastwood was unable to join us as she had a prior engagement strategically applying pressure. To the back of enforcers’ skulls. With a fucking baseball bat. Like a common thug. Mind you, I’m a classy lady all by my lonesome on a Sunday fucking morning-"

“Classy lady I’ll fucking say. You’d think I plan on growing old with Mrs. Fucking Vanderbilt, the way you want to buy ten thousand pairs of red high heels-“

“Omg babe you wanna grow old with me?”

“-that all look exactly the fucking same, by the way. ‘Burnt orange’ and ‘vermillion’ and ‘chartreuse’ or whatever the fuck — You know it’s just fucking red.

“Chartreuse is green, since you wanna be a smartass,”

“Don’t gaslight me, woman. Where do you even plan on wearing those? We live in an oversized sewer pipe. Not the magical land of Oz. I told you who i was when you met me. I told you this is what I do. And you better get used to it if you wanna keep charging my card at every boutique within a ten mile radius,”

“Or what? Gonna give me the spiel again, talk me to death about the uprising and the political elites and the our time is imminent, y/n. Gonna threaten me like you do your little fishing buddies? Gonna apply me some strategic fucking pressure?”

“That’s enough.” Sevika hissed, scary calm. She kicks the pantry door shut and whips around, pointing at you with her cigarette. “I’ve had enough of this shit. You’re done, Missy.”

“Beg pardon? I’ll decide when I’m done, thank you very much. You’ve got some nerve telling me when to speak when I can’t even reach you half the time. I had to track down your little boss the other day — brought him a lovely casserole — and ask if he could pass on a message for me! ‘Excuse me Mr. Scaryman Eye of Zaun, sir, could you possibly ask Zorro if she might head home as soon as she’s done busting kneecaps? And to arrive in a clean shirt, as my parents are in town and they prefer to greet their daughter-in-law when she’s not covered in someone’s intravenous blood. Thank you kindly.’”

“You showed up at work? Wait- you talked to Silco? Babe I told you to stay the fuck away from there!”

“Please. He may be the kingpin of the city or whatever, but I make a gorgeous quiche. Trust me, babe. Once he tastes my cooking, I am henceforth immune to whatever machiavellian basement torture chamber you brutes probably use as your break room.”

🂱 Sorry guys, got a little carried away there. Point is, one minute you’re screaming at each other and dramatically slamming doors and throwing shit, the next you’re fucking on the kitchen floor like the world’s about to end. You guys basically co-authored the book on how to be an absolute nightmare of an upstairs neighbor. The entire building feels the floor shaking and no one knows if the screaming is just you guys having a little too much fun for 2pm on a Tuesday, or if they’re gonna see this on the news tomorrow.

🂱 Kidding! At the end of the day, trust and loyalty are the foundations of your relationship. You love each other wildly, deeply, and passionately.

🂱 Sevika has a strict no going to bed angry policy. If you’d gotten into it that evening you might give her the cold shoulder, curl up facing away from her in the quiet moments before bed. She’s reading by the lantern on the bedside table — an upcycled barstool the two of you stole from your old job at The Last Drop one evening when you were in a particularly silly mood.

🂱 She catches your gaze a couple times as you stare over your shoulder to see if she’s paying attention to you, and then you immediately turn and go back to ignoring her. She takes off her reading glasses, tosses her book onto the bed, and rolls over to you, wrapping her arm around you from the back.

“Hey baby?” She kisses your shoulder and the back of your head since you still won’t look at her, and she continues. “Love of my life? Light of my world? Keeper of my soul and partner in crime through the sea of trials we call the fucked-up game of life?” You turn slightly to give her a glaring side eye.

“…What do you want.”

“Still mad at me, babygirl?”

“Not at all. Why on earth would I be mad?”

“I’m sorryyy,” she draws it out, cooing at you all soft and sing-songy. If the ne’erdowells who often got their asses handed to them by her and her little team could see this Sevika, they’d think they lost their mind. Hell, if any punk on the street could see this Sevika they’d think they lost their mind. It made your knees weak the way she undid herself and softened for you. For only you. You fought the smile forming and she continued murmuring against your skin.

“It’s all this bullshit at work Silco’s got me taking care of. I’m neglecting my little lady, I’m stretched so thin. It’s too much…”

“Too much…?” You echo. “Talk to me, love. Silco’s not letting you catch a breather?”

She grunts in affirmation against your shoulder: “Mm-hrmm”

“Does my baby have the whooole wide world on her poor, tired, buff, strong, sexy shoulders-EEK!” She gleefully flips you over to face her, making you cackle. You’ve been disarmed. At her mercy. You always were.

She leans forward to bonk her forehead against yours.

“Glad someone in this cruel world finally understands me and my line of work,” she says, half-joking.

“No one understands the importance of your job better than me, babe.” You continue, at this point unable to remove the sarcasm from your tone even if you tried. She nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder facedown, head supported by the cushiness of your tit. You weave your fingers in her hair.

“The honorable burden of great duty… The unfathomable smothering of moral obligation, even. One might describe it as an immensely… strategic pressure-”

“-For FUCK’s SAKE”

“You have worker’s rights, you know! Demand an hour off — paid — in your underground torture chamber-breakroom. You’re entitled to relax and sip coffee as you watch the bodies hit the floor, goddammit!”

Feigning exasperation, Sev dramatically collapses backward starfish-style on the old-ass creaky-ass decrepit-ass daddy longlegs convention of a double bed the two of you share; in a shithole apartment, in a shady-ass neighborhood, in a collapsing city. That’s how it was between the two of you. Underneath it all, she trusts that you’ll always be there to kiss her wounds, to make sure her collar is straight and there’s no shmutz on her face. You trust that at the end of the day, it’s you she’s coming home to.

[hiskillingjar]

Genderbend (All/MC)

the girls are back and i’m having a woman moment, leave me alone day 11: genderbend second person. top and more butch adjescent reader (didn’t say dom though :)) cw for rape in strade’s part. sometimes women can be rapists #feminism

ren 🦊

"This is so embarrassing. Don't you have anything better for me to wear?"

You turned in the mirror, a frown on your face as you stared at your reflection, stared at the black pleather lingerie set Ren had forced you into. 

The tacky triangles of fabric which made the “bra” barely covered your chest and the cheap thong was just made up of strings and straps that cut into the soft flesh of your hips. You didn't even remember what the exchange for your reluctant acquiescence had been this time around.

"Why is it embarrassing?" Ren asked, standing beside you in the mirror in her own quasi-fetishistic outfit (she’d opted for an ironic “bunny suit”), a mischievous smile on her face as she stared at the reflection, amber eyes hungrily taking in each bulge of flesh. "It's so cute~!"

""It's uncomfortable is what it is." You snapped, staring at her, your dark brows knitting into a frown. "This fabric is itching the shit out of my skin, too." Your blunt nails scratched your thigh, where your body hair was thickest and wettest. "Where did you even get this, AliExpress?"

"All the best things come from there," She replied matter-of-factly, reaching out to swat your hand away.. "And stop scratching. Complaining is super unattractive, you know."

You scowled and crossed your arms over your chest, staring at her body.

"Your outfit is way nicer. What, you don't feel like treating your captive to something nice, once in a while?"

"Mm, that's true, mine is nicer." She smiled proudly, turning in the mirror and admiring her petit, curvy body. “But if you behave, I might just get you something that feels just as nice. If you're good."

"If I'm good..." You scoffed and rolled your eyes, glaring to the side. "Whatever."

"Don't be like that." She teased, as she took your chin in a firm grip and forced your eyes back on your reflection in the mirror, her small frame pressed against yours. "I think you look cute, anyway. You look so much like a boy most of the time, you suit something more girly."

"Really." You deadpanned, not looking to indulge her.

"Or, well," She let your head move back to face her, hands sliding down to your hips, groping each area of bulging flesh hungrily. "You might suit it more, if you tried to look like a girl. Seriously, you should shave your legs or something, you might like it!"

You looked down at yourself, at the thick, dark body hair that covered your calves, thighs, mound and belly, and scoffed.

"Oh, wow. Didn't know you were into forcefem, Ren, that's a really new one for you." You said, sarcastically.

"I can't forcefem you if you're already a girl, stupid!" She protested, though she was still smiling like a fox, her fangs wet and pleased.

"Mm," You rolled your eyes again but you couldn’t resist a slight smirk (a heat lighting up in your cheap thong), turning back to pull at her hips, lining yourselves up together so she could feel that heat too. "Didn't know you were into de-dyking then."

"Mm,” Her smile dropped a little and her cheeks went pink. “I dunno about that. That one feels a little more…mean-spirited..." She keened forward and mumbled into your neck, her chest and full hips flush with yours, bare skin rubbing against your own. "Besides, I thought you were bi-"

"I am bi," You said quickly, not minding the skin-on-skin contact as you slid your hand into the back of her panty and groped her backside. "I'm a dyke who likes fucking pretty boys sometimes. And what are you, hm?" 

You toyed with the pom-pom on the back of the waistband, a fox in rabbit's fetish gear. You almost laughed. 

"A, uh, a repressed butch trying to forcefem herself into an e-girl femdom, so all the boys will like her? Kinda sad, Ren"

"I am a domme! I'm a femme domme!" She protested, hips pushing back into your hands as if instinctively, an indignant and petulant pout on her lips. “Besides…I look cuter when I dress up.”

"Sure sure..” You nodded. “But I think you'd look way cuter butch then you do as a botched femme, though." Your smirk broadened, pressing her little body against the mirror as your lips ran down her neck, feeling her pulse beat faster.

She was just so easy to wind up. No wonder you’d talked yourself out of being her basement fuck-pet.

Though, now you were thinking about that…

"You're not being fairrrr...." She protested, burying her face into the nape of your neck, her hands clinging needily around your shoulders, hips rocking up against yours. "Why do I even let you talk to me like this? I could make you behave if I wanted..."

"You don't want to, not that badly," You murmured into her neck, leaving behind a little nip, instantly swelling into a little red splotche on her pale skin. "I'll play along though. You can make me look as femme as you want, if you take off your little outfit and wear something of mine..."

She shivered against you, a little gasp escaping her throat at each teasing bite. 

"Are you���mmph, are you trying to seduce me?” She stammered quietly, pulling her face from your neck with another pout. “I'm the one who's supposed to be in charge here, you know..."

"Mm, I'll be sure to make you feel very in charge when I'm making you come your brains out, sweetie," You said, nipping her neck again.

"N-no fair..." She protested again, her breath hitching as you continued to tease her neck. "You know I'm weak for that..."

"You're weak in general," You said with a smirk, suddenly pulling back from her and giving her hip a teasing smack. 

"Go get changed~"

lawrence (x oc) 🥀

"Hey cutie~"

You snickered softly on the other side of your phone, the camera pointed towards where Law was prepping her shot in the tiny bathroom, each step of the process methodical and thought out as it always was.

"What are you up to?"

“What are you doing?” Law murmured quietly, turning to the phone, a slight blush appearing on her pale cheeks as she drew the viel’s liquid into the throw-away syringe. "Why are you filming me?"

"Weren't you listening in therapy?” You asked with a smile, sitting up from the bed and pacing towards her, leaning in the bathroom’s door frame.“We're supposed to try remembering all the things that make us most happy in the world, aren't we?"

"And what…” Lawrence's blush grew more prominent, her voice becoming somewhat shy. “You're choosing to film me doing my E shot?"

"Of course I am. Nothing makes me happier." You stepped inside, the tiled ground cool on your bare feet, and pressed an idle kiss to Law’s shoulder (making her let out a soft squeak at the feeling), continuing to film her in the bathroom mirror. "Sooo, how long have you been on E, Law?"

"Three months and seven days." She said with a gentle smile (still eerie and far away, but more authentic than it had been before), running her palm over her stomach to find the best place to inject. “My…thirteenth week, now.”

"And why'd you get on E, Law?" You then asked, resting your chin on Law's shoulder with a big smile, watching as she pressed down on the syringe’s plunger.

"Well...I guess I wasn't happy with myself.” She explained quietly with a little shrug of her broad shoulders. “I felt like a stranger in my own body, in my own life. And I wanted to be...well, me." 

She laughed then, quiet and soft, and turned to face you.

"And then of course...there was you."

"Oh yeah?" You grinned a little more, keeping the camera up.

"Yeah, definitely…” Her arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in a little closer. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have been miserable, I would have stayed that…lost person you met in therapy.”

The blush in her pale cheeks had mostly faded by now, replaced with a small smile of genuine happiness.

“You pushed me to be the person I wanted to be...the person I feel like I should be.” She took in a shuddering breath, holding you tighter. “You mean the world to me...you have no idea how much I care about you."

"Baby," You murmured quietly, stopping the recording and closing the gap between you with a gentle kiss.

Lawrence melted, easily, into the kiss, her hands moving to circle your neck, fingers spanning across your shoulders and thumbs nestling against your delicate wind pipe. 

You didn’t care. If anything, the subtle gesture made you feel powerful, like you alone had tamed the beast that Law had once been. And it felt good. 

Her whole body relaxed at the feeling of your lips against hers, your tongue pressing against the seam of her trembling mouth, a shiver of pure ecstasy running through her as you pressed closer, your stirring lengths rubbing together through panties and pyjama shorts.

"You...wanna go back to bed?" You asked with a coy smirk, pulling back with a little lap at her mouth.

Law's blush swiftly returned and she gave you a timid nod.

"Um...yeah...yeah, let's go back to bed."

You smiled even wider, taking Law's hand in yours (matching black nail polish topping carressing fingers, your got your nails done together now and giggled at the same jokes, and god, you loved her so much) and dragging her back over to the bed, settling on top of her hips as soon as she was lying down beneath you.

Law let out a surprised squeak and a laugh, settling back into the bed, her hands on your hips gently tracing the outlines of bone under your skin. 

"How'd I get so lucky with you?" She breathed out, grey eyes widening as you shifted on her hips, giving the both of you some much needed friction.

"I could ask you the same question," You murmured with a heated smirk, lowering you lips down to Law's neck and sucking love bites into her pale skin, bruises and markings of ownership that people would see, people at therapy, people at the cafe, people at the gallery-.

“Oh!”

Lawrence let out a soft moan, her head tilting back (blonde hair fanning over her pillows like a halo) to give you better access to her neck. She closed her eyes and gripped your hips a bit harder, shivering with desire and the (obvious) urge to control herself and keep still underneath you.

"God, you're amazing..." She murmured needily.

"Pitch your voice up," You whispered a soft order into her hot skin, as your hand sank between Law’s legs, feeling the heft of her cock in your fist and giving it a firm squeeze.

Another shuddered breath escaped Law, her lips parting (like a porn star) as she let out a higher pitched moan, her hips lifting so she could buck into your grip. Her whole body was heating up (after being so cold), everything around her feeling more intense as her body grew needy and restless, trembling beneath you. 

She let out a shaky laugh, pushing a hand into her hair and laying her palm over her eyes.

"Good girl," You praised, gripping her cock tighter, your own cock peeking through your panties and lining up against Law's, as you grinded your hips down against hers. "Keep it up. You're a girl, so sound like one..."

Another shiver of pleasure, a strangled moan leaving Law as you bucked your hips into hers, rubbing sticky heads together, stimulating you both at the same time. She nodded slightly, her voice pitching higher, sounding innocent and girlish, and becoming more desperate.

"Y-yeah, I'm a girl...your girl...oh, please..." She whined, both hands reaching down your back and holding you tight as she desperately tried to speak. “Feels so good…”

"Yeeeah, you are," You continued to croon and dote, sucking another love bite into her neck, where it would be most visible. "My girl, my good girl, Law..."

Law's body arched desperately against yours, another high pitched whine slipping from her vocal cords and filling the hot, clammy air of the apartment.

The perfect little heaven that the two of you had carved for yourselves.

"Yours...I'm yours...please don't stop..."

“I won’t, I won’t ever stop. I promise, baby~”

strade 🔨

"S-Strade, I can't do this..."

You were standing in the low-light of the basement, bare feet cold on the concrete ground, arms prickled with goosebumps, and your collar weighing heavy around your neck.

“Come on, don’t be a pussy.”

Strade was on her knee behind you, tightening the belts of a heavy duty, leather strap-on harness around your hips overtop of your camo shorts, a thick, black phallus protruding obsecenly from the shiny, silver ring on the front of it.

Bigger than anything you'd ever used before. Though you had a sense that Strade preferred a strap-on that was especially punishing.

"You call yourself butch?" She said, heaving herself back to stand with a low grunt and taking hold of one of the straps, giving it a shake to make sure it was tight overtop your shorts. You nodded hesitantly amidst her silence, since she was obviously looking for an answer from you. "Well, don't you know that a butch is supposed to serve her femme?"

You both then stared at the girl beneath you, tied to the basement's support beam. 

Her eyes, wide and scared and looking at the two of you like a pair of demons in front of her, were streaming with tears, smearing black eyeliner and well-applied eyeshadow down her cheeks. Her short dress had ridden up amidst her struggle against Strade, revealing hold-up stockings and silk panties, sodden with urine. 

Any possible protest she could have made was masked off with a thick, duct tape gag.

She was gorgeous, obviously, but…

"T-That's not-" You started, peering over your shoulder towards the older woman as she nudged you forward.

"Always full of excuses, aren't you?" Strade murmured with a click of her tongue, her hands on her full hips. "Well, I think your little girlfriend is pretty disappointed in you. Aren't you, sweetie?"

The girl shook her head erratically, murmuing pleas for mercy and freedom into her gag, breathing haed through her nose. At least, that's what you assumed she was pleading for.

"Strade-"

"Do you need an incentive? Hm?" Strade interrupted you, pacing towards the girl with a roll of her eyes in your direction. "Mein gott, these dykes of the day...fine, fine!" She held her hands up in acquiesence, before settling back down on her knees and placing a firm hand on the girl's shoulder, forcing her shaking body still. "How about you fuck your femme, like a butch is supposed to do," She then produced her bowie knife from the holster at her hip. "Orrrr, I kill her right now?"

Your eyes widened with alarm as the edge of the knife was pressed to the girl's throat, at which point she started freaking out, pulling against the cable tie binding her wrists behind her, pleading and crying even louder into her gag, and looking at you with a mix of fear and betrayal.

Why aren't you doing anything? Why aren't you helping me?

"I-I d-d-don't..." Your lip trembled and your eyes began to sting. "Please don't make me do this..."

"If you get her to come," Strade continued, putting more pressure on the knife, making the girl instantly still with a muffled whimper. "I might even keep her alive longer than a weekend! What do you think about that, hm?" She smiled broadly, as if ignorant to just how cruel she was being.

"Why are you doing this to me?" You whispered.

She blinked at your question and tilted her head to the side, genuinely confused by what you'd asked her.

"To you? Heh!" She suddenly let out a barked laugh (which made the girl flinch and whimper) and shook her head. "You think this is about you? Wow. That's pretty selfish, liebling."

"T-Then what is it?" You asked, your hands curling tightly at your sides. 

"Do you think you're anything more than a tool to me right now?" She said, giving you a considered look and another shake of her head. "No, no. You're no better than this...knife!" She held the knife up, before tapping the point against her scarred cheek. "Mm, actually, this knife is much better than you." Her smile turned into a smirk. "More reliable, at least."

You said nothing, locked in place at an unspeakable impasse.

"So, those are your options." Strade shrugged again and pressed the knife back against the girl's trembling throat. "So, get. To it."

Your lip shook again and the first beads of tears fell down your face.

God. You couldn't even ask the girl what she wanted.

Strade had said that this had nothing to do with you, but fuck, why did it feel like she was doing this to torture you and you alone?

You said nothing as you settled down on your knees too and crawled towards the girl, trying to make yourself appear smaller, less intimidating, less compelled to hurt her.

I’m not involved with her, your positioning said, please don’t hate me for this.

"I'm sorry..." You murmured, another stream of tears running down your face as you settled between her legs (now held open by Strade's free hand) and rubbed the head of the rubber phallus against the front of her sodden panties, trying to ignore her muffled whimpers as they shifted aside and you eased the toy inside. "I'm so, so sorry. I promise I'll be gentle. As gentle as I can be, I promise, I promise-"

"Your tears aren't worth much." Strade chided you softly, frowning at how slow you were being and gripping the girl’s thigh harder. "Come on, put some fucking effort into it or I'll start cutting."

Your eyes flickered up to the girl's anguished expression, brows knitting together in a way that you hoped translated to sorrow and guilt, as your hips jerked forward and you buried half the length into her cunt.

She cried out loudly, her eyes squeezed shut as a new batch smeared her already ruined make-up, and you murmured a little curse to yourself. 

Fuck, there hadn't been any slick there at all, had there? 

You couldn't even try to pretend that you would make this experience even remotely pleasurable for her, not in the slightest.

"I hate you," You murmured, your teary eyes narrowing towards Strade with an ugly sniff, wiping up snot with the back of your hand. "You're the worst person alive."

"Such high praise." She smirked and shrugged, like she'd heard it thousands of times before (and she probably had). "But, ah,  I don't think your girlfriend is really enjoying this so much." 

She slid the knife down the girl's heaving chest, teasingly slow, and cut through the spaghetti straps holding up her dress with barely any effort, revealing a large (and possibly fake) pair of breasts. 

"Make it nice for her, why don't you? Put your mouth on her chest."

You cringed internally at Strade's demand, eyes on the knife dangerously near the girl’s heart, but reluctantly did as you were told, lowering your head down and latching your mouth on a nipple, tonguing the swelling bud as your hips moved, back and forth, fucking her deeper.

Your softer movements and warm tongue earned a soft moan, substantially different from the scared whimpers and cries, and you could feel the slow drag of the strap-on between her legs begin to meet less resistance.

"Fuck..." You breathed against her chest, a shameful coil of desire curling inside of you as you continued to service Str- the girl! 

"Yeah, that's hot." Strade grinned all the same, filthy and lecherous, the knife now resting against her thigh, away from the girl but adding a dangerous subtext to the whole scene. "How about a kiss too, hm?"

You swallowed hard and raised your head again, your free hand (the one not holding her hip) reaching up to gently cup the girl's trembling jaw.

“I’m sorry. I’m trying to help, I am…”

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips through the duct tape, trying to slow your thrusts down again and make this...well, a little nicer than it had been.

You received another soft moan as the girl’s eyes squeezed together, dark eyelashes fanning over her cheeks as she waited for all of this to be over.

You had that in common, at the very least.

“How sentimental. Give me something good to work with, and I’ll think about keeping you both alive, hm~”

[laughffy]

i think the one possibility most people overlook when cisswapping sanji (apart from the fact that cisswapping generally kills a lot of good stuff going on with his Canonical Gender Shit) is that he would be just as closeted and queer as a girl. but in the opposite direction

like i think instead of sanji’s gentleman shtick sanju would 100% femme-fatale it and honestly just go “wow tashigi kun ur so cute ❤️ i’ll do you a favour and save you no problem, haha but only cause it’s you” and reverse harem herself into charming like every dude and then when she gets to momoiro instead of the sanji-in-a-dress gag there’d be a whole thing where sanju gets put in a suit or prince’s costume and enjoys being a smooth gentleman etc (the way sanji thinks he is) before she goes NO i’m made to PERV ON DUDES not BE A DUDE.

the swapped backstory holds up too; if sora is a strong and kind and chivalrous father and judge is a cruel mad scientist mom it kinda works out to being a similar dynamic that big mom canonically has with her husbands

it would translate to the complementary-opposites thing with zoro too, because zoro would still be butch and androgynous as fuck and only give a shit about swords and sake, and sanju would still care about gender a shitload, just instead of masc chivalrous gender it translates into femme fatale seductive woman gender. she’d have one of those long cigarette holders and wear dresses with sexy thigh slits the whole time

and instead of sanji being a heart-eyed slave to women the gag would be that sanju is so busy trying to show off and flirt with the men that she gets distracted from fighting. so instead of “i can’t hit women” you’d get madam super oblivious “haha but smashing up such a handsome face would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” while khalifa (khalife? as a dude) soaps her up and tosses her from the tenth floor

instead of boobs sanju is either super into abs or asses. regardless, the struggle persists that regardless of AGAB, zoro is still the most well-endowed crewmember in sanju’s favourite category, just like he canonically is in sanji’s

[infantdisposal]

Diamonds In The Rough || Part 5: A Little Bravery || Femme!Human!Rarity x Butch!Human!Applejack

CW: none

Rating: SFW

Desc: Applejack and Rarity go horse riding and afterwards realize that maybe they didn't hate eachother afterall.

Like this fic? Reblogs > likes, though both are appreciated

The sun was already warming the air as Applejack and Rarity made their way to the barn the next morning. The previous day’s chores had left Rarity aching in places she didn’t know could ache, but she wasn’t about to let Applejack see her struggle. She walked with her head held high, though her steps were a little slower than usual.

Applejack smirked. "Don’t worry, sugarcube. Today’s all about learnin’ tack. Ain’t no heavy liftin', just some good ol’ fashioned know-how."

"Tack?" Rarity repeated, tilting her head. "What on earth is that?"

Applejack led her into the barn, where an array of leather straps, saddles, and bridles hung neatly on the walls. "Tack’s all the gear we use for ridin’ and workin’ with the horses, saddles, reins, halters, bits, all that. If you’re gonna be spendin’ time on the farm, you oughta know how to use it."

Rarity eyed the assortment skeptically, her nose wrinkling at the distinct smell of leather and horse sweat. "It doesn’t look terribly glamorous."

Applejack chuckled. "It ain’t. But it’s necessary. Come on, I’ll show ya."

She grabbed a saddle off the rack, placing it on a nearby stand. "This here’s your basic Western saddle. You got your horn, seat, stirrups-"

"Horn?" Rarity interrupted, eyeing the curved protrusion at the front. "Is that for decoration?"

Applejack laughed, shaking her head. "Nah, darlin’. It’s for holdin’ onto when you’re ridin’, or ropin’ cattle, if you’re doin’ that kinda work."

Rarity pursed her lips. "I see. And… it’s clean, I hope?"

"As clean as it needs to be," Applejack replied with a wink, grabbing a bridle. "Now this is what we use to guide the horse. The bit goes in their mouth, and the reins let you steer."

Rarity’s face twisted in mild horror. "You put that in their mouths? It looks so… uncomfortable."

Applejack shrugged. "They’re used to it. It don’t hurt ‘em if it’s fitted right." She handed the bridle to Rarity. "Here, try holdin’ it. Feels a little heavier than you’d expect."

Rarity took the bridle reluctantly, her delicate hands gripping the worn leather. "Goodness, it’s heavier than it looks."

"Told ya." Applejack grabbed another piece of tack, explaining its purpose as she worked. She demonstrated how to attach the saddle to the horse, looping the girth under the belly and securing it tightly.

"Now you give it a shot," Applejack said, stepping back and motioning toward the next horse.

Rarity blinked, glancing between the saddle and the large animal before her. "You want me to do that?"

"Sure do. Don’t worry, I’ll guide ya."

With Applejack’s encouragement, Rarity approached the horse, muttering under her breath about the indignity of manual labor. She lifted the saddle awkwardly, nearly losing her balance as she swung it onto the horse’s back.

"Easy there, princess," Applejack said, steadying the saddle with one hand. "You ain’t wrestlin’ it. Just place it gentle-like."

Rarity grumbled but adjusted her movements, following Applejack’s instructions. By the time she finished securing the girth, she was sweating lightly, her hair coming loose from its meticulous styling.

"There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?" Applejack teased.

Rarity stepped back, brushing her hands together as though she’d just conquered a mountain. "It was… tolerable."

Applejack grinned, tipping her hat. "Well, look at you, already halfway to bein’ a proper farmhand."

"Don’t push your luck," Rarity said, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward.

Applejack chuckled. "Come on. Let’s get these horses saddled up for a ride. You earned it."

With the horses saddled and ready to go, Applejack led them out into the yard, the sun casting golden streaks across the fields. Rarity followed, her face a picture of reluctant determination as she trailed behind her assigned horse, a calm and gentle gelding named Buck.

"Alright, sugarcube," Applejack said, giving her own horse, a sleek mare named Daisy, a firm pat on the neck. "You’re up. Just put your foot in the stirrup and swing on up. Buck here’s as gentle as they come."

Rarity froze, eyeing the tall horse like it was a monster. She glanced at the stirrup, her stomach twisting.

"Uh… Applejack?" she started, her voice unusually hesitant.

Applejack turned, her hat tilted back slightly as she leaned against Daisy. "What’s the holdup? Need me to give ya a boost?"

Rarity’s cheeks flushed as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. "It’s just… well… horses are quite tall, aren’t they?"

Applejack’s lips curled into a teasing smile. "Most of ‘em are, yeah. That a problem?"

Rarity sighed, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "I wasn’t going to mention it, but… I may have a slight fear of heights."

Applejack blinked, then threw her head back with a hearty laugh. "You’re scared of heights? On a horse? Rarity, we’re talkin’ maybe five, six feet tops!"

"It’s more than enough, thank you!" Rarity snapped, her tone defensive. "What if I fall? Or the horse gets spooked? Or I-"

"Whoa there, darlin’," Applejack said, holding up her hands. Her laughter softened into a warm, reassuring smile. "Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to ya. Buck’s the sweetest horse on the farm, and I’ll be ridin’ right next to ya. Trust me, you’ll be fine."

Rarity chewed on her lip, her nerves still bubbling under the surface. "You’re sure he won’t… throw me off?"

Applejack stepped closer, placing a hand on Buck’s side. "Buck wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone you. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll walk ya through it step by step. Deal?"

Rarity hesitated but eventually nodded, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her borrowed plaid shirt. "Deal."

Applejack grinned. "That’s my girl. Alright, first thing, just put your foot in the stirrup. Like this." She demonstrated with Daisy, mounting effortlessly before sliding back down to the ground.

Rarity mimicked her movements, albeit less gracefully, managing to get her foot into the stirrup.

"Good. Now grab the horn and swing your other leg over. Don’t think too much about it, just do it."

Rarity took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage she had. With a slightly unladylike grunt, she swung her leg over the saddle and settled onto Buck’s back.

Rarity took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage she had. With a slightly unladylike grunt, she swung her leg over the saddle and settled onto Buck’s back.

"There ya go!" Applejack cheered, clapping her hands. "See? Nothin’ to it!"

Rarity sat stiffly, her hands gripping the horn as though her life depended on it. "Yes, well… I suppose it’s not entirely awful," she admitted, though her knuckles were white.

Applejack chuckled, mounting Daisy with ease. "You’ll loosen up once we get movin’. Now, just give Buck a light squeeze with your legs to get him goin’."

Rarity did as instructed, and Buck began to walk, his steps slow and steady. She let out a nervous laugh, glancing over at Applejack. "Alright, perhaps this isn’t so bad after all."

Applejack smiled warmly. "Told ya. Let’s take it slow, and by the end of this ride, you’ll be feelin’ like a natural."

Rarity gave a smile, her earlier fears starting to fade away as the two of them rode off into the sprawling fields.

The gentle sway of the horses beneath them and the rhythmic clopping of hooves created a calming backdrop as Applejack and Rarity rode. The air was crisp and carried the faint scent of wildflowers, the perfect balance to the warmth of the late morning sun.

Rarity sat a little more comfortably now, though she still gripped the reins with caution. Her posture was upright and elegant, a stark contrast to Applejack’s relaxed slouch as they meandered along a well-worn trail.

"I must admit," Rarity began, her voice lilting as she admired the scenery, "the countryside is quite charming. It’s… peaceful."

Applejack chuckled. "Told ya so. Ain’t nothin’ like it. Beats all that city noise any day."

Rarity shot her a playful glance. "Well, I wouldn’t go that far. There’s a certain… sophistication to city life that the farm doesn’t quite offer."

Applejack smirked, tipping her hat back. "Yeah, well, I ain’t never needed ‘sophistication’ to be happy. Just a good day’s work and good company."

Rarity rolled her eyes, but the faint blush on her cheeks betrayed her. "You and your simple pleasures," she teased.

"And you with your high standards," Applejack retorted, grinning.

They continued to banter, their laughter mingling with the soft breeze as they crossed a small stream. Applejack occasionally glanced at Rarity, noting how the sunlight caught her hair and the way her smile seemed to soften her usual sharp demeanor.

"You’re not so bad, y’know," Applejack said after a moment, her tone more sincere than teasing.

Rarity blinked, caught off guard. She turned to look at Applejack, her cheeks warming. "I… beg your pardon?"

Applejack shrugged, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "I mean, I figured you’d be complainin’ the whole time or find some excuse to hightail it back to your fancy little boutique. But you’ve stuck it out. Even done a decent job, all things considered." She glanced at Rarity, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "Kinda admirable, actually."

Rarity’s heart skipped a beat, and she quickly looked away, pretending to adjust her reins. "Well… I suppose I do have more grit than people give me credit for," she said, her voice a little higher-pitched than usual.

Applejack chuckled. "That you do. Never thought I’d say this, but… you’re alright, Rarity. You ain’t just some prissy city girl after all."

Rarity felt her cheeks burn, the warmth spreading all the way to her ears. She cleared her throat, doing her best to maintain composure. "I, well, that’s very kind of you to say, Applejack."

Applejack tilted her head, noticing the slight tremor in Rarity’s usually composed voice. "You alright there, darlin’? You’re lookin’ a little flushed."

"I’m fine!" Rarity replied quickly, fanning herself with one hand as if the sun was suddenly unbearable. "Just… the heat, you know. It’s positively sweltering out here."

Applejack grinned, her expression teasing. "Uh-huh. Sure it is."

Rarity shot her a glare, though it lacked its usual sharpness. "Oh, hush. Let’s keep riding before you say something else utterly ridiculous."

Applejack laughed, nudging Daisy into a steady trot. "Alright, princess, whatever you say."

As they continued on, Rarity couldn’t help but steal a few glances at Applejack, her words replaying in her mind. For the first time since she’d arrived on the farm, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t entirely dreading this experience anymore.

After a long day of riding and laughter, Applejack and Rarity returned to the farmhouse, the sky painted with hues of pink and orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. Dinner was simple yet honest, grilled vegetables, fresh cornbread, and a stew that Rarity reluctantly admitted was "decent." Their playful banter continued through the meal, their teasing softer now, more familiar, as though they’d known each other for years instead of just a few days.

As they cleared the dishes, Applejack leaned back against the counter, eyeing Rarity with a thoughtful expression.

"Y’know, Rare, you’ve been wearin’ those same clothes for a couple of days now," she said casually. "You want somethin’ fresh to change into?"

Rarity froze, her eyes widening as realization struck her. She looked down at herself, horrified. "Oh, darling, I hadn’t even noticed!" she exclaimed, her tone a dramatic wail. "How unsanitary! I must look and smell positively dreadful!"

Applejack chuckled, shaking her head. "You’re fine, sugarcube. But I get it. Come on, I’ll grab you somethin’ else to wear."

Rarity followed Applejack upstairs, a small pout on her lips as she muttered about hygiene and appearances. Applejack led her into her room, the space simple and cozy, with its wooden furniture and a faint scent of pine.

"Here," Applejack said, pulling open a drawer and rummaging through it. She handed Rarity a soft flannel shirt and a pair of sweatpants. "This’ll do. Might be a little loose, but it’s clean."

Rarity inspected the clothes with a critical eye before giving a resigned sigh. "I suppose it’ll have to do."

Applejack smirked. "While you’re at it, why don’t you take a shower? Might help you feel better."

Rarity perked up at the suggestion. "That… actually sounds divine. Thank you, Applejack." She took the clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Applejack alone in her room.

As the sound of running water filled the farmhouse, Applejack sat on the edge of her bed, her hat in her hands. She stared down at it, her thoughts a jumbled mess.

Why was her heart racing? Why did she feel like the room was suddenly too warm?

Applejack let out a frustrated groan, dropping her hat onto the bed. "Get a grip, AJ," she muttered to herself. "She’s just a friend. A… real pretty friend. With a smile that could light up the whole dang farm…"

She buried her face in her hands, groaning again. "Sweet Celestia, what’s wrong with me?"

The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped her out of her thoughts. Applejack looked up just as Rarity stepped into the room, her damp hair cascading over her shoulders, her cheeks glowing from the heat of the shower. She was wearing the flannel and sweatpants, the loose fabric somehow making her look even more stunning.

Applejack’s breath caught in her throat. Her heart thudded so loudly she was sure Rarity could hear it.

Rarity smiled softly, tilting her head. "Thank you again, darling. I feel so much better now."

Applejack stood, her legs moving before her brain could catch up. She walked toward Rarity, her face flushing redder with every step. She stopped just inches away, her gaze locked onto Rarity’s.

Rarity’s smile faltered, replaced by a curious, slightly nervous expression. "Applejack?"

Applejack didn’t answer. She didn’t think. She just acted.

Reaching out, she cupped Rarity’s face with one calloused hand and leaned in, pressing her lips against hers.

For a split second, Applejack panicked, but then she felt Rarity respond, her lips soft and warm as she kissed her back.

The world seemed to stand still, the only sound the faint creak of the farmhouse settling in the night.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their faces flushed.

Rarity looked up at Applejack, her eyes wide but filled with something unspoken, something warm. "Well," she said softly, a small, shy smile tugging at her lips. "That was… unexpected."

Applejack let out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of her neck. "Yeah, uh… sorry ‘bout that. Don’t know what came over me."

"Don’t apologize," Rarity said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t mind."

Applejack’s heart soared at the words, and for the first time, she allowed herself to smile a true smile, wide and unrestrained.

Maybe this was the start of something neither of them had expected, but neither of them seemed to mind.

The room was quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of the trees outside the farmhouse window. Rarity and Applejack stood there, caught in the gravity of the moment, their breaths still uneven from the kiss they’d just shared.

Applejack hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching Rarity’s face as if looking for permission. What she saw made her heart ache, Rarity’s wide, sparkling eyes, her lips parted ever so slightly, and the faintest smile that hinted at something deeper, something unspoken.

"Rarity," Applejack murmured, her voice low and husky, filled with a vulnerability she rarely let show.

"Yes, darling?" Rarity replied, her voice barely above a whisper, her breath ghosting over Applejack’s lips.

Applejack didn’t answer. She leaned in again, this time slower, more deliberate. When their lips met, it wasn’t tentative like before, it was deeper, warmer, as if the floodgates had finally opened.

Rarity melted into the kiss, her hands instinctively reaching up to rest on Applejack’s shoulders. She tilted her head slightly, letting the kiss deepen, her body pressing closer as though drawn by an invisible force. Applejack’s hands found their way to Rarity’s waist, the strength in her grip steady yet tender.

Time seemed to blur, the weight of their shared emotions filling the room. Applejack tilted her head, her hat tumbling off the bed unnoticed behind them. Rarity let out the softest sigh against her lips, the sound sending a shiver through Applejack’s body.

Neither of them spoke, their thoughts overtaken by the intensity of the moment. Every touch, every gentle press of lips, every breath shared was a silent confession of feelings they’d both been too stubborn, or too scared, to admit.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the still air. Rarity’s cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at Applejack.

"You’re… quite good at that," Rarity said, her voice trembling slightly but laced with a hint of playfulness.

Applejack chuckled, her thumb brushing against Rarity’s waist absentmindedly. "Reckon I had some pretty good inspiration," she replied, her grin softer than usual, almost shy.

Rarity’s laughter was light, musical, as she leaned in and placed a small kiss on Applejack’s cheek. "If you keep that up, Applejack, I might never want to leave this farm."

Applejack felt her heart skip a beat, and for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to hope. "Well, sugarcube," she said, her voice steady but warm, "maybe I don’t want you to."

Their gazes locked again, and in that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, standing there, hearts full and defenses down. For the first time, neither of them felt the need to fight what was so clearly meant to be.

[macdenlover]

Question for ya about genderbent mac and gender/sexuality performance. Assuming she would have a similar repression then coming out experience, would you change her appearance/presentation? I feel like in recent seasons mac's changed so much so I'm curious how you'd represent that in your art!

okay so! @bitseventimes made some really good points in this post about this idea already so i’m kinda piggybacking.

short answer: not really? i’d keep her presentation pretty in line with canon mac so she’d be rockin the tommy bahamas shirts the same seasons as him. i think my version of fem mac would have always been sorta masc except for the few occasions she’s had to put on a dress. but she’d complain about it the whole time. I think her evolving relationship with gender expression and sexuality over the seasons would be less visual and more internal/behavioral.

long answer: unfortunately i don’t think it’s really possible to do a perfect 1 to 1 genderswap parallel that carries ALL the nuances of a character’s relationship queerness/gender expression while still keeping that character recognizable. so it’s okay to bend the rules a little. my headcanon is that fem mac was always a tomboy but saw femininity as a shitty obligation you have to deal with once in a while for show, similar to canon mac’s relationship with having sex with women. i think i saw someone hc that fem mac would wear dresses to church to be closer to god and like yeah. that’s exactly it. overall her demeanor and interests and style would stay pretty close to canon mac. i think early seasons mac would feel ashamed for not being as put together as other girls and especially denise who always has perfect hair and perfect makeup and mac can’t even put eyeliner on without almost blinding herself. and that combined with repressed lesbianism would manifest into this misogynistic pick me “i’m not like other girls” mentality. she’d still have just as much cognitive dissonance as canon mac—convincing herself that dudes like natural girls better anyway but also of course denise has gotten laid so many times she always looks like a whore. and then that changes when mac comes to terms with being gay. (some of the misogyny is still there though this is it’s always sunny in philadelphia). anyways she starts fully embracing the butch thing with more confidence in the later seasons because turns out bitches really dig it. but if denise wants to do her make up every once in a while she sure won’t complain. if you really want to explore queer repression in relation to hyperfemininity it’s wayyy more interesting through denise’s character and it fits really well with whats already established in canon dennis. mac’s performance of femininity would exist as this external factor but denise’s performance of femininity would be so much more internalized and rooted in her self worth. mac takes her heels off 15 minutes into the party because she’s impulsive and it’s irritating and denise bears through the pain because if she can’t be beautiful then what is she whats the point? denise would belittle mac for not putting enough effort into her appearance but deep down she wants the strap so fucking bad would be sort of jealous of the freedom mac has with her appearance and she’d grow more and more resentful toward her in the later seasons after mac comes out.

sorry this turned into a macdennis analysis post and i’ve flown way off the rails from ur ask 😭😭😭 but hopefully you get what i’m saying

[mangledscrimp]

HAPPY BUTCH DAYYYY!!! Finished her a while ago but i think it’s a good time to post it now hehe

will contain nonsexual nudityyy in the cut!!

This is Hershel’s new ref sheet!! the old one was..erm..kinda doodoo LOLLL! Kinda scared to get hate on this waaaa but idgaf I love her hehe

as always, going into detail abt bullet points!!

•Pronouns

Generally, she goes by she/her pronouns. Though with her wife, (post miracle mask/what i’ll call dy miracle mask), she also enjoys going by he/him from time to time..but really only with her wife. She’d rather the public use she/her.

•Sexuality

I like to think she’s bisexual but mainly with a preference for women. In diabolical Yuri’s writing, she dates a lot of the female cast. They enjoy her gentlemanlyness I guess LOL! She hardly involves herself with men but if her wife were a man, she would still love them dearly. She’s very sapphic in my head tho haha..

She’s also a Stone Butch! if you’d like me to go more into that, send me an ask!! :3

With original Hershel, I like to think he’s also bisexual haha yay

•From Barbados & Puerto Rico

Ok this is purely because I projected so heavily onto Hershel that I gave her my ethnicity LOL. Diabolical Yuri au is really to help find joy in myself haha.. Also chose to make her those ethnicities because I hardly see characters from Barbados and wanted to feel represented!

Though, Hershel wasn’t raised in Barbados or Puerto Rico, her biological mother is from Barbados and her biological father is from Puerto Rico. She was raised in a small unnamed village with her sister until she moved to Stansbury alone with her new adoptive parents after an accident involving her father and mother had occurred.

•Facial Features

For dy and in canon, I like to give Hershel a big nose because I find it cute hehe.

For dy, I give Hershel crow feet. No the little lines by her eyes are NOT eyelashes, they are crow feet. Without them, it makes her art just not look like her. She gets them from her (bio)mother.

Another thing that I do is give her a rounder plump face. I think it fits for her and looks great hehe!

I also give her visible facial hair by the sides of her head and by the left side of her face! I give her facial hair because, again, I want to feel represented in my designs. I have facial hair in those areas as well and I think it looks good on other characters too!

Lastly, visible eyebrows. Gave her eyebrows because her hat can’t possibly cover them up, unlike regular Hershel. She’d have to fight with her hair if she wanted her hat to cover her brows! Loll

•Facial Expressions

Hershel has a range of facial expressions that she can do.

When she’s startled, confused, or in a trance she gets little swirly eyes.

When excited, Her eyes dilate like how a rat’s eyes would or gets whale eyes when she’s really excited!

•Hair

She’s got fluffy hair with an exclamation point standing straight up!

•The ring & Wife

The word “wife” is in quotes because she never got legally married. Her “wife” just bought her a ring. She doesn’t like to use the term girlfriend or anything like that for her partner because she has this feeling that their relationship wouldn’t end, no matter what happens to the two of them.

Though, to keep the ring safe, she doesn’t wear it on adventures. Only to special events like staff parties, birthdays, or evenings out with her special somebody. She’s very afraid of losing it.

•Outfit components!

Decided to give hershel a flared out coat, nothing special haha. Her shoulders are quite boxy in her coat compared to her sweater, but she finds the look stylish.

Unlike regular Hershel, she tends to take off her hat inside buildings like a gentleman would. The hat doesn’t contain much sentimental value to her because of her rocky past with Claire.

Underneath the coat she’s got her lovely orange sweater, attached is her clip on tie. Her tie is really just a pin with a cap to hold the string of the other component of her tie. She finds it pretty rude when someone grabs it to pull on it but doesn’t mind all that much when her wife does it.

Green shoes, nothing much to it!

Not really an outfit component but she does have a purse/case mix thingy that she uses to hold items much like Hershel in the original professor layton. She’s also quite the klepto like the original professor haha!

•Pcos and Other things

I gave Hershel pcos to, again, feel represented in the things I create!

(UWAA,, IF I GET ANY OF THIS WRONG PLEASE LET ME KNOW!! I don’t reallyyyy know if i’m autistic myself yet,, so pleaseee let me know if i’m doing anything wrong with thisss )

I also decided to give her Autism/Autistic traits. In some of the art I make of her, her hands shake whenever her wife touches her or in stressful/overwhelming situations in dy’s writing. similar to mine whenever I see stuff that I like or just to relax myself.

In dy’s writing, she tends to go silent/mute when she gets too overwhelmed. During her college years it affected her quite a bit but she tries to manage it as she gets older.

She finds certain textures pleasing. She loves to have her hands in hair, preferably dense hair. And she likes the feeling of facial hair as well!! Besides hair, she hates certain bedsheets that are grainy so she’ll try anything to avoid them at all costs.

That’s ittt!! for this section at least!

Nonsexual nudity under the cut!!

Here is how she looks under everything!!

She wears a regular standard bra and Exclamation point boxers with regular old white socks.

She’s got body hair on her arms along with her legs and a happy trail!

yeaaa not much to it haha!

End of ref!!

[punkishtoxtricity]

hi hi! what are some of your tigerbear and sweet tooth in general headcanons?

(they have fully and officially infested my brain, yay!!)

i was actually just about to type these out so this ask is well timed

-Tiger is very big on 2000s emo. she LOVES paramore. Bear is the one who helped dye their hair orange(after hayley williams duh)

-Tiger is also very big on classic punk and riot grrl(i’m not projecting i swear) because it was very much the easiest music to get a hold of after the crumble (in the early day of the army them and Bear would go out to rob cd stores and she’d always steal a couple cds)

-Bear is very big on folk music. she’s also a classic emo girly. she LOVES american football and modern baseball.

-after long days they listen to music together and just kinda lay in their room. the other army members find it curious how they’re really the only ones to share a room

-Tiger first dyed their hair when she was 10. Bear helped her. the dye job was very shoddy but they loved it

-Tiger is nonbinary! they sort of came out as a kid when she first met Bear but later down the line they finally had a word for it so she explained it better. Tiger was her original chosen name(might give her a diff one in the fic later on idk)

-Bear has a very weird relationship with gender. i think she’s genderqueer but basically the “i’m nonbinary but i have a job rn so idrc)

-they’re both butch lesbians. i don’t make the rules

-Bears love language is secretly touch. she pretends it’s acts of service but Tiger knows better and tries to make a decent amount of physical contact with her

-Tigers love language is quality time. they enjoy extended periods of time with Bear but are very much too anxious to ask her to hang out more after the crush manifests

-a lot of Tigers anxiety manifests itself as anger. that’s why she’s like that in season 1.

-in the time they spent witj the hybrids while waiting for everyone to come back from alaska, Finn quickly became her favorite. they’re both a bit mischievous and she sees herself in him

-Wendy finds Tiger and Bears dancing around the idea of a relationship amusing. i think there’d be a point where her and Bear are just sitting on the porch and she’s like “i’d be fine with having a sibling in law y’know”

-i also think she’d have a talk with Tiger and be like “i think you’re good for her and you’ve got history. you helped her find me so you’re alright”

-Tiger is surprised by the accusation of crushing on Bear(she’s not)

-all of the hybrids LOVE Tiger. she does teach all of them the best swears. at some point they get back to the army headquarters and gets her computer back, once they research swears in sign all hell breaks lose

-the wolf boys visit regularly. they eventually learn very basic english but they can’t articulate well so they stick to sign

-the wolf boys are also very sweet with the rest of the hybrids! they especially love Finn since they’re all canines

-i feel like all the hybrids are bi. like how some animals are naturally just bi. i think that’s how they are

-the games they play can get personal. if someone beats someone else in one game you can bet your ass they’re getting back in the next game

ok that’s all i have for now

[fruitalike]

WEATHERING || Haley x Reader

RATING: Mature? I think.

PAIRNG: Haley x Butch Lesbian Reader

TAGS: YOU are a butch, Haley is a femme, established relationship, marriage, existential dread?, kinda angst/hurt/comfort, commentary on late game uselessness, no smut/sex, what if you were miserable but in love too! thats the theme here

WORDS: 2203

SUMMARY:

Your wife is more perceptive than you thought she’d be… You are a person without her; and a better one with her. And yet, you find yourself in this conundrum all the same; things are different now—things were easier when you first moved to the valley.

READ ON AO3

OR

Things were easier when you first moved to the valley. Well, technically they were much, much harder—having just quit your desk job and fleeing to the middle of nowhere, you began to clear a farm as if you had any idea what you were doing. It was both back-breaking and monotonous work: you mine the stray stones in your way, cut down unneeded trees and their fallen limbs, till the ground, plant seeds, and water them—all simple enough and the rhythm of it was easy to get used to, even as it ate away at you. Sometimes you’d even meander off the farm when your work was done early and commune with the townspeople.

Now, things were harder, because they were easier, which constantly made your head spin. The farm having been cleared from decades of decay, meant it could only flourish with your diligent care. As you became more and more proficient in the numerable skills required for the farm, crops were watered by sprinklers, came to harvest faster or with better quality with fertilizer and speed grow, and were rarely lost to crows or stray lightening bolts. As you became a better farmer, you felt less involved and emboldened by your work. Sure, you had more time. More time to harvest, to process, to make more and more money. But is that why you chose this life?

When you first moved here, you met her, and you’ve been enraptured in Haley’s storm ever since. Though that does come off a bit dramatic for your mild country love affair. And maybe that was underselling it. These things famously hard to understand, and to put to words (and maybe you’re just tired). All you know is that you fell in love with her very quickly.

When you first met her, there was just something about her that was deeply familiar to you. So, entering her orbit was a preferable way to lose yourself, but only a little. You lost those things about everyone that are most unimportant—the parts of you that are anxious in love and hesitant in desire, that agonize in perception and shrink in the grander parts of life, those that are more concerned with the optics of what it must look like for someone like you to fall in love than the quiet dignity you feel as you sink, further and further. She’s like a mirror to you—if their purpose was to show you what you look like inside. You are a person without her; and a better one with her.

And yet, you find yourself in this conundrum all the same; things are different now—things were easier when you first moved to the valley. You’d pick wild daffodils for her in the spring, and as you came to understand her tastes better, you’d grow tulips for her on the farm as well. In the summer, you’d grow every color of sunflower you could find, and the occasional extra melon stayed in your kitchen instead of the shipping bin or wine casks so that you could make her a nice fruit salad or bake her a cake. You’d always bring her back a coconut whenever you visited the desert. She takes her time to warm up to you fully, but you’re so okay with that; you enjoy courting her as much as she enjoys being courted. You never miss a birthday, or a flower dance.

Soon, you’re close enough for her to be increasingly vulnerable with you. She tends to remind you afterward that she does not need you, but her continued focus on you exposes her desire. Even as your farm grows, you make regular time for her, and she notices. Her schedule seems to change the longer you know each other, as you only seem to run into her more and more as your courting continues.

Even as things continue to fall so perfectly in to place, you miss her more and more. It’s as if everything you do leads back to Haley. Your romance, does of course, but even your continued exploration and restoration of the valley and upgrades to your home lead you to the Mermaid’s Pendant. And you buy it for her, after you’ve been dating for a while. You propose to her during summer, her favorite season, and she accepts eagerly. You’re married in three days’ time, and things are easy.

You’ve been married for a long time now. You can’t remember off the top of your head how long you’ve been married—months, years, how many months are in a year? How many seasons? But you chalk it up to being tired. You know you’ve already passed an anniversary, recently, so you at least haven’t forgotten that.

You trudge up the stairs of your beloved marital home, having managed to tire yourself nearing the point of exhaustion for the umpteenth day in a row, despite ever increasing automation on the farm. You make a mental note to take a further look at the stairs as they creak desperately below your work boots. You might as well just do it yourself, rather than burden Robin with minor household repairs.

Your boots are off before you even open the door. You set them to the side of the entranceway and shut the door behind you. Moving as quietly as possible, you make your way to the kitchen, hoping not to wake Haley, as you figure she’s already in bed. It’s so late. You rub your eyes and pour yourself a glass of water. You’ll go to sleep after this.

Finally sitting down, at the table, you sip your water slowly. You’re too tired to rush. Your eyes wander to the bedroom door, you miss your wife. It feels like you haven’t seen each other in a while; but you see her every day. Obviously, you live together, but you also speak to her every morning before you leave the house, you kiss her, too. You bring her a gift at least twice a week. And there’s still this hole in your heart.

Something about the way your heart aches seems to summon Haley from the bathroom. She emerges wrapped up in a plush robe, her hair still damp and slippers audibly sliding across the floor as she refuses to pick her feet up more than she has to. Sometimes she does take late night baths, so you’re hoping she wasn’t staying up late waiting for you.

She’s clearly heading right towards you, regardless of why she’s up so late; only stepping aside to grab an envelope off the coffee table in the living room. You’d never seen it before, and bite the inside of your cheek when you realize it was in the other room because she thought you’d be home earlier. And was probably waiting for you, on the couch, for hours.

When she gets to the table, she slides the manilla envelope to you. It bumps right in to your elbow on the table; no hope of ignoring it. You look down at the envelope and back to her. She looks at you, you look at her, she looks at you. You look at her, and she crosses her arms across her chest. “Open it.”

You nod, and do what she asks, expecting the worst. Why do you always expect the worst? As you open the envelope, you realize it’s filled with pictures, instead of the divorce papers the worst parts of your psyche had convinced you to expect. You take them out and carefully sift through the stack.

As you study every picture, you realize that they’re all of you. When you try to think about it, you think that you remember Haley saying that she wanted to take more pictures of you some time ago. These must be those pictures. Your heart aches as you thumb through picture after picture, each of them of you working. You’re mining, chopping, scything, tilling, sowing, setting up farm equipment or moving it around, kegging fruit, pickling vegetables, or aging wine in every photo. But this is who you are, right? You provide. So, it’s okay to always be out of the house, constantly working, feeling lonely, overwhelmed. Right? How else would these things get done?

Besides, as you flip through even more pictures, not all of them are of you working. Some of them are of you at the dinner table, having fallen asleep with dinner half eaten, or on the couch with your head draped over the back of it, asleep in a position so uncomfortable it makes your stomach turn. Looking at these photos is the first time in a while you’ve faced the state of the house in a while, and it’s clean, still. Haley obviously keeps things together even when you’re falling apart (self evident in the handful of pictures she has of herself dragging you to bed) but there was a point when it felt more like a home, here. When you’d either grow or bring home a bouquet of flowers once a week. Now all the vases in the background of the photos are chronically empty, your love for your wife missing from the home you’ve built together. Of course, your love for her abounds outside, in the fields full of flourishing produce and sheds full of kegs processing it all. A greenhouse full of her favorite flowers. And yet your home is laid bare.

She’s still standing there, looking at you once you’re done looking through all the pictures. “You can’t keep going like this.” She insists.

You nod. She’s right. Haley finally moves closer to you; she puts your hands on her waist and you put your head in her hands. You lean forward in your lethargy, and she lets you rest your head on her stomach and plays with your hair. Her long nails tickle your scalp just so, and her warm embrace soothes your exhaustion. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

You could ask yourself that, but you don’t know the answer. You shake your head but go with the best idea you can come up with. “It’s good money.” She’s not buying it.

“Is that all that life’s about?”

She hesitates. “What about us?”

You don’t. “We’re still us.”

She sniffles and wipes her eyes, a tear streaming down her face. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

You lean back in your seat and try to console her. She crawls in your lap and holds you tight. “We’re a team.” She says. “You have to let me support you. That’s what I’m here for.”

You put your foreheads together and look into her eyes, and she looks into yours. Your entire world is in those big, blue eyes and you’re watching yourself destroy it. Sometimes she’s like a mirror for the worst parts of you.

You nod, again; you don’t have much left in you. “I know. I just feel like…”

She doesn’t hesitate. “You can tell me anything.”

But you do. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m not holding up my end of it. So, if I’m not providing, I should be at least protecting you from it.”

“How can you say that? After everything you’ve built? Everything we’ve built together, how is this not providing?”

You shake your head. “I’m not out there like I used to be. I mean you know that—even when you try to offer to do something to help and take stuff off my plate it’s all already done. The watering, the feeding, the everything. I just—” you shrug. “I just feel useless, sometimes.”

“A lot of times.” You correct yourself. “So, I go and pick up any extra work I can so I don’t feel like I’m wasting my day.”

She brushes your hair out of your face; you’re crying now too. “You don’t think that’s a waste of a life?” she’s not harsh, but even if she was you needed to hear it.

You shake your head. “I know it is.”

“I’m here to support you in any way I can.”

You lean forward into her; she rubs your back. “I need to take a shower. And go to bed.”

Haley helps you to the bathroom and manages to convince you to let her bathe you instead, you’re too sore from all the work you’d convinced yourself you’re not doing to protest. Not that you would, the two of you desperately need the time alone together.

She sheds her plush robe for a silk one instead, insisting that it would make it easier for her to help you in the bath. The brief glimpse of her naked reminds you how long it’s been since you spent this kind of time together. Your bath remains chaste despite your intrigue, you’re far, far too tired for anything more than being bathed by your wife.

Once you’re finally clean, and dry the two of you have an easier time getting to the bed, where you thank Yoba for even making sleep possible. Haley curls up on your chest and you feel quite useful.

You’re going to take tomorrow off. And probably the next day too. And maybe the day after.

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

106 (Butch Deloria First Kiss Drabble)

Word Count: 905

The Lone Wanderer burst out of Vault 106, coughing and spluttering. She took two steps out into the sunlight, and then collapsed onto her knees. Behind her, she heard Butch gasping for air. She closed her eyes.

It had all felt so real. Butch had come at her, swiping at the vulnerable, tender flesh of her throat with Toothpick.

She trusted him with her life. She wouldn’t be travelling with him if she didn’t. But it was a hard image to shake.

“Nosebleed?”

It was an old nickname. It reminded her of a younger, angrier, crueller Butch, but still, it was oddly comforting. The mean Butch of the past might’ve been a thug, but he wasn’t a murderer.

His hand landed on her shoulder. She was pretty sure he was about to help her up, but she couldn’t help the way she flinched.

“Hey, hey…” He said her name almost tenderly, pulling his hand back. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Feeling her strength return, she pushed up off her knees and stood.

For the first time since they’d exited the vault, she looked at Butch. He was looking worse for wear. His eyes were red. His normally perfectly sculpted hairdo was sticking up in places. Loose locks of hair were curling down on either side of his forehead. In all honesty, she kind of liked it. She knew that if she told him what state his hair was in, he’d fix it, so she didn’t.

“We need to get out of here,” she said. “We’re too exposed.”

The sun was setting by the time they found the unoccupied ruins of an old house. There was a bed that still had a mattress, and the mattress wasn’t mouldy, so it was good enough.

The previous tenants of this place had made a makeshift firepit, so she busied herself building a fire. The roof had a gaping hole in it, which, in this case, was actually good for ventilation purposes.

As she was heating up a tin of pork n’ beans, Butch said “Are you gonna tell me what you saw in there?”

“I’m not sure you wanna know,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

“Ever since we left that place, you’ve barely looked at me! You didn’t even let me help you up earlier! So yeah, I guess I kinda wanna know what’s bothering you.”

She stared into the firepit. “You first.”

Butch let out a defeated sigh. “Okay. Alright. I saw my ma. She told me what a disappointment I am, of course. And then I saw her… I saw her…”

She looked at Butch. He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking up at the sky, but not really seeing it. Given how how frightening he found the sky, that was quite something.

“She was dead,” he said at last.

Feeling a little guilty for pushing him, she shuffled closer to him. He looked away from the sky and back at her. Their eyes met. She felt a familiar warmth inside her that she’d spent the past few weeks trying to ignore, but it was getting harder and harder.

“I saw my dad,” she started. She hadn’t intended for this to be the hard thing to talk about, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, her lip wobbled. In spite of her best efforts, a couple of tears escaped.

Butch was watching her face carefully. When she seemed unable to get any other words out, he said, “Nosebleed, I’m so-”

“That wasn’t it,” she said, silencing him. “I also saw you.”

He frowned at her. “Me?”

“You and the other Tunnel Snakes. You tried to kill me.”

His brow creased. “That’s… I mean… You know I would never-”

“I know,” she said. “But it scared me.”

“Well… I’m sorry.”

That drew a laugh from her, surprising both of them. “What are you sorry for? It’s not like you actually tried to kill me.”

“I know, but…” He sighed. “I’m an asshole, right? You know that. I know that. I know I hurt you a lot when we were kids. I don’t want you being scared of me.”

“I’m not scared of you.” To demonstrate her point, she shifted closer to him. Her arm brushed against his. “If I was, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Well… Good. But you should know that I would never hurt you again. Not on purpose.”

“I know,” she said. She was leaning into his space now. His eyebrows shot up, but he opened his arms to let her get closer.

When she kissed him, it felt like something clicked into place. Tentatively, his hands fell to her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him in closer.

When they separated, she was practically in his lap. He expected her to pull back fully, but instead she settled herself there, arms draped loosely over his shoulders.

“Hi,” he said, looking more flustered than she’d ever seen him.

“Hi.” She smoothed a lock of his hair back into place. She expected him to object, but was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t. “Just so you know, I know I don’t have to be scared of you. If it came to fight, I’d win.”

“Yeah? You think so?” He had a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I know so.”

“Wanna bet?”

She let out an undignified squeak as he tackled her to the floor.

Masterlists.

Taglist info.

[swndmehelp]

Fallout oc dummmmp :)) it’s gonna be a lot like my Dragon age one just will fallout. Under the cut because there’s a ton, idc if people read it or not I just need to empty my brain because I’ve been thinking about them again.

Zia Miller:

My favorite one, she’s my Fallout 3 character. She’s definitely shy, mostly because of how she was bullied in the vault and how she was basically alone most the time other than her father, Jonas, and Amata (I don’t remember how to spell her name and idc).

Obviously she’s alone most of the time until she gathers her companions. So a little about her vault life, I like to think James (dad) was a bit of a workaholic, he’d spend late nights at the lab for his experiments and such, of course I’m not saying he’s neglecting Zia, he just works a lot. He also pushed Zia to be the best student she could be, she got her smarts from both her parents duh. I like to think instead of her looking a lot like James she looks like her mother (Catherine). She’s obviously close with Jonas, looking up to him, he’s basically like the sibling she never got in which she deserves one but at last, not happening (rip Jonas he was my fav NPC other than Gob). Then Amata, GRRRR I hate her. She is the absolute worse friend ever and no one can tell be otherwise, she makes you deal with Butch and the bully’s then just stands there when you get your butt kicks, honestly, I’m pretty sure Zia was desperate for friends and Amata was really the only option. Finally Butch, in the Vault she hated him, he’s meaaaan to her, bully, out of the Vault it’s the classic enemies to lovers trope that we all love.

Okay, so companions in game I really only traveled with Charon, Dogmeat, Fawkes, Star Paladin Cross, and Butch. I never traveled Clover, RL-33 or whatever its name was, or Jericho. I know a bit about the characters so I’ll just pretend I did end up traveling with them, I just never encountered or had the right Karma requirement to travel with them.

So Charon is obviously the bodyguard, she doesn’t treat him like one, she never asks him to do anything for her so she tries to be nice to him. Zia LOVES Dogmeat, I feel like all my hero’s of the wasteland are just dog people, Jem is an exception. Fawkes is a good companions, he listens and is pretty good in a fight, Zia definitely likes discussing different books or history with him. Cross is like a mom to her, obviously she didn’t know her mom so any motherly figure is good enough for Zia, Cross is also just good to travel with. Butch, like I said enemies to lovers thing going on, I love him a lot he’s just a dork and I like him a lot better when he leaves the vault rather than in it. Clover uhh, she probably gets a little uncomfortable with the pet names, like lover and stuff like that, but she tries and gets Clover to get out of that mind (idk if it works I barely write these two together), she also takes that bomb collar off her because she deserves a little freedom. She is terrified of RL-33, she just doesn’t like getting yelled at and definitely cries when it yells at her :(. Finally Jericho, um, she also rarely travels with him, I feel like she’d like him better if he was less mean and all that but I feel like he might get a little soft spot for her.

I like a little found family, but they all hate each other but get along only for Zia’s sake. Anyways, Zia’s got major survivors guilt after James’ death, rip dad. She’s now got both Mommy and Daddy issues Horray!! I feel like she’d be mad at her dad for leave up until he died, then feel bad for making him die thinking that she’s still mad at him.

Definitely didn’t do the Enclave, so she sided with the BoS. After all, the Enclave is the reason her dad died :)

Courier Six:

Six! Six! Six! The mailman with brain damage! Obviously I love him, love writing angst for this mess of a man. He hides his struggles with his humor and everyone just kinda goes along with it thinking it’s due to the brain damage. I feel like after a while the companions would obviously see through it but that’s only when they get to know him.

So companions, I feel like for all the games is kind of like a found family kind of thing. I feel like the found family started here when Six shoved all of them inside the Lucky 38 and just runs off to cause chaos all over the Mojave. Anyways, so I’ve traveled with all the companions in this one, Arcade, Boone, Cass, Veronica, Lily, Raul, Rex, and ED-E (and of course the dead money DLC companions Dean, Christine, and Dog/God).

So Arcade and Six are kind of together, I like to think that Arcade at first started traveling with Six because he felt bad and knew Six would get himself into stupid shit if he didn’t help him, but then once he started to know the man he started to fall for him or whatever idk how to write people falling in love. Anyways, Six loves Arcade and normally travels with him, it’s also nice to have a doctor to travel with you. Boone, my emo egg, Six feels bad about his wife of course or at least pretends to, he always enjoys having Boone around and whatever Boone says they are the bestest of friends (or at least in Six’s eyes they are). Cass, I’ll be honest I barely traveled with her only to get her quests for EXP anyways, good drinking buddy but Six isn’t normally allowed to drink (Arcade and Raul rule), sometimes Cass manages to sneak Six drinks though. Veronica is awesome in Six’s eyes, loves traveling with her and always finds her amusing, he loves her jokes :), one of the three that helps Six makes important decisions but that’s on rare occasions when there’s a disagreement between Arcade and Raul. Lily is grandma and Six loves hanging out with her, Raul is grandpa and loves hearing his stories, he just lives his grandparents. ED-E he loves, Six just loves everyone I think it’s impossible for him to hate anyone, I think he also just like having ED-E around because it gets a reaction out of Arcade. And Rex, the whole groups favorite dog <3.

Soo Benny. Six doesn’t hate Benny, he barely remembers him, he only knows that’s who shot him because people keep telling him and reminding him. I really think Six is incapable of hating anyone, at least to anyone’s knowledge.

Six has bad memory problems, constantly having to get reminded of things. He also shouldn’t be left to made important decisions, that’s what Arcade and Raul are for. He really just does what they say and call it a day. During Dead Money he listened to all the companions, Dean, Christine, and God.

He decided to do an independent Vegas, the first real choice he made by himself but also because Arcade mentioned it a few times and side it would be better for everyone.

Jem:

She’s the other fnv oc I made a while ago and I just kinda kept her. I feel like if she were a companion she’d be the only one Six wouldn’t get along with, she’s mute (not like Christine, she never gains her voice back) so he doesn’t understand her, she’s also just super mean. But there’s a twist, she’s part of Six’s past which is another reason why they don’t like each other.

I’m still working on the details of the backstory but what I got so far is that Jem and Six were a thing before he made the delivery in which he got shot and never returned. Jem was obviously alone for a bit and thought Six left her or ran off with someone or whatever idk. Anyways, she ended up getting sold to the Legion and was tortured and made a slave, only reason she’s not anymore is because of Six saving her. Obviously he can remember her and she didn’t bother trying to convince him they did know each other.

Oh, she also ends up getting with Boone because I said so and I like it when two angsty people get together. She obviously moved on from Sox a while ago too. I’ll post more when I finalize the backstory.

Nora Colón:

Finally, the mom in which didn’t save her son and watched her husband get killed right in front of her. The woman out of time.

So obviously Nora is a pretty moody as a character, no nonsense type of person. She’s a good person, just with everything that happened before the start of the game and during the prologue it had hardened her and made her an angry and sad person.

I feel like she gets along with all the companions. She also lies to the companions for a long time up until she goes to the Institute, saying that she was just some random person from the wasteland that had her baby stolen, not mentioning anything about her husband. I feel like the only companion to really know what happened was Deacon because he’s weird like that.

So Nick or Peepaw, is her favorite, she finds comfort in him and just enjoys talking with him, he is a massive father figure. Hancock is fun, Codsworth doesn’t like him because of him doing chems and that stuff and he doesn’t want it to influence Nora. Nora finds him okay though, tries not to drink with him though (she’s a recovering alcoholic). Ugh Preston, she likes him just hates how much work he makes her do, she’s a stressed woman and he just stresses her out more with all that settlement work omg. Danse, adores him but will never admit it, she felt so bad during blind betrayal, obviously she saved him without a question. Codsworth she loves, one of the good things about her past and she’s happy he’s still around, even if he is rather picky about what she does. Cait, Curie, and Piper, she likes them all just Cait and Piper is a bit too much for her and Curie… she’s just too nice, what reason does she have to be that nice. Deacon, obviously doesn’t trust him at first but eventually warms up to him, even laughs at a few of his jokes after a while. MacCready she baby’s, motherly instincts kicks in when she’s around him and always scolds him when she catches him smoking (she smokes but he’s also young sooo).

I don’t think she’d have survivors guilt, she didn’t really care for her husband. She definitely hated herself for killing Shaun but the synth boy scared the hell out of her, plus he wouldn’t grow. She’ll always regret not being able to see Shaun grow up without the influence of the institute or his father. Also gets upset when Shaun says his father was just collateral damage even if she didn’t like her husband she wouldn’t say that.

She sided with either the railroad or the minutemen. She doesn’t like the BoS and definitely doesn’t like the institute.

[air3d3lalm3na]

All the trans/generally lgbt people come to my line at work, in this conservative ass place, at my stupid cashier job I got to not have a gap. and it’s very sweet.

I am so overqualified and everyone loves me bc of how well I treat them and the manners I was raised with and I hate that this is not normal bog standard in society as it used to be……. Like right up there with writing letters and organizing + going to dances not being the norm anymore. :( I get so much “you’re a nice boy” from the old folks and it feels bittersweet every single time.

Try to keep a sense of humor about my current life and joke around with my two funny work buddies. The 20smth bi girl and the baby brother. She and I traded small Christmas gifts. She used to give me so many doughnuts that I dreamt tons were falling out of my bag and I didn’t know what to do with them all! lol. then we stopped because it all looked so weird at work. Those two are reteaching me how to have humor, after my years spent around fuddy duddies which has so stunted my humor and ability to banter….

As for the “family” comin’ in….

I get this soft butch lesbian retired gym coach often and I love her attitude. A couple of other lesbians or bi and gay or bi men here and there. Masc enough looking guys until they talk and then it’s “gay or hipster?” The one probably bi girl who spoke to me like she really liked me a few months ago has come a couple of times more, but been calmer. Overall they are mostly just neutrally nice, but it’s the gym coach butch and and the next one whom I get the most warmth from.

This one returning customer is mtf, later transitioning and very sweet and soft spoken, clearly boymoding and I got hippie guy vibes until actual interaction happened and then still hippieish after. Long grey hair and a cloth headband and just a sweet smile. Her son said something that made it sort of clear, the first time (“since this person (does xyz)” where you would usually say “this guy”). She always comes to me, even when alone.

Another, younger and fully into transition transgirl came to me the other day. She had put TONS into her voice and it showed. I really respect the hell out of that. Her look could pass if mine damn well can, around here, with older conservative folks, but in the city, around experienced types, she’d maybe need a lil FFS as much as I need anything that I do. But like clearly quite woman to the general public IMO and probably could be or be hovering around stealth (?).

I get this one guy on the regular whom I believe is very deep stealth ftm who transitioned much younger. He could easily be any other midheight-shortish cis guy. But something about his eyes makes me wonder. Nothing a cis person could ever notice. But if you’ve met long term transitioned people as someone trans, it’s the tiny things. Idk. And his expression is a little nervous too, like a deer in the headlights. I would never raise the topic with most of them, but especially him, with that slight anxiety he seems to have. But still he always comes to me.

Another young one came to me the other day. Looked teenage male but ID’d him for alcohol and yep, female name not yet changed on the ID still. In naturally making convo, I mentioned I was new around here, and asked “if there were any community” around where he was (nearby tiny barely-a-city city, outside the main one). Keeping it vague and safe. He kinda brushed it off, and as it was the close of things, he left. Odd that he wouldn’t go for it but still came to me. But ok dude.

Yesterday, my apparently frequently/usually (?) male passing self stepped by to let someone I briefly thought was a middle aged lady in a hoodie go first before me into the women’s restroom. (Since that’s what’s up for me at this job, “officially.”) He walked right by, into the men’s, lol. Not trans, but just my mistake, most likely. But still lol. I thought, ok, here we are…out here….

[infantdisposal]

Diamonds In The Rough || Part 4: Roughhousing || Femme!Human!Rarity x Butch!Human!Applejack

CW: none

Rating: SFW

Desc: Rarity's second day on the job turns out more fun than she'd imagined.

Author's note: This one is quite a bit longer, enjoy!

Like this fic? Reblogs > likes, though both are appreciated!

After finishing up in the barn, Applejack and Rarity made their way back to the farmhouse. The smell of something savory greeted them as they stepped inside. Rarity hesitated as Applejack set a steaming dish on the table. It was lumpy, golden-brown, and slightly charred around the edges. Rarity’s perfectly shaped eyebrows curled as she forced herself to suppress a gag.

Applejack caught the expression and smirked. "What’s the matter, darlin’? Never had Shepherd’s Pie before?"

"Um... no, I haven’t," Rarity admitted, eyeing the dish like it might attack her.

Applejack plopped down in her chair, casually grabbing a serving spoon. "Figured as much. It looks kinda scary if you ain’t used to it, but trust me, it’s amazin’." She piled a generous portion onto her plate, steam rising as she dug in.

Rarity hesitated, her fingers daintily clutching the edge of her fork. "Okay..."

She cautiously scooped a small portion onto her plate, inspecting the layers of mashed potatoes, ground meat, and vegetables. This is not a souffle, she reminded herself. You can do this, Rarity.

Applejack watched her with amusement, chewing happily. "What’s the worst that could happen? It ain’t poisoned."

Rarity shot her a glare but finally took a tiny bite. Her eyes widened in surprise as the flavors hit her tongue, rich, savory, and satisfying.

"Well?" Applejack asked, sporting a cocky grin.

Rarity set her fork down delicately, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "It’s... not the worst thing I’ve ever tasted."

Applejack laughed, leaning back in her chair. "I’ll take that as a compliment. Now eat up, princess. You’re gonna need your strength for tomorrow."

Rarity groaned, the realization that this was only day one sinking in. "Tomorrow? What fresh torture do you have planned?"

Applejack winked. "Oh, you’ll see."

---

The morning sun spilled through the farmhouse windows, casting a warm glow on the couch where Rarity had accidentally dozed off. She blinked groggily, the realization dawning on her that she’d spent the entire night in Applejack’s living room.

Sitting up, she glanced down at herself. She was still wearing Applejack’s old, oversized clothes. A faint blush crept up her cheeks as she fidgeted with the hem of the plaid shirt. Out of curiosity, or maybe something else entirely, she glanced around the room, ensuring she was alone, and then brought the collar of the shirt to her nose for a quick sniff.

Her heart fluttered, and she immediately sat stiff upright, cheeks now bright red. "Disgusting," she muttered to herself. "That’s all it is. I despise this sweaty scent. My heart is… is… gagging! Yes, that’s it."

She stood up abruptly, brushing imaginary dust off the borrowed clothes as if to shake off the strange feelings creeping into her chest. Quickly pulling on her boots, she tried to compose herself, smoothing her hair and willing her usual poise to return.

The telltale creak of footsteps on the stairs broke the silence, and she glanced toward the staircase just in time to see Applejack strolling down, her hat already perched on her head.

"Mornin’, sugarcube," Applejack greeted with a lopsided grin. "Didn’t expect you to be up so early. Sleep alright?"

Rarity crossed her arms, feigning indifference. "I survived. Though I’ll have you know, that couch is an affront to my spine."

Applejack chuckled. "Well, reckon you’ll be too busy today to notice. Hope you’re ready for round two."

Rarity huffed, tilting her nose in the air. "I was born ready."

Applejack smirked, brushing past her toward the kitchen. "Good to hear. I’ll get us some coffee. You’re gonna need it."

Rarity followed, her heart inexplicably fluttering again. She pushed the feeling aside, blaming it on the lack of proper sleep. Yes, that must be it, she thought. That’s the only explanation.

After a quick breakfast, Applejack led Rarity out to the barn, her confident stride in stark contrast to Rarity's hesitant steps. The sun was already climbing in the sky, and the scent of hay and horses filled the air.

"Alright, sugarcube," Applejack drawled, pulling open the barn doors. "Today, we’re pickin’ hooves and cleanin’ out the stalls. Gotta keep the horses healthy and comfy."

Rarity froze mid-step, her face contorting in horror. "You… you expect me to handle manure?!"

Applejack smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Sure do. Unless you wanna break that deal of ours and hightail it back to the city."

Rarity’s jaw tightened, and she straightened her posture, determined not to give Applejack the satisfaction. "I’ll manage, thank you very much."

"That’s the spirit," Applejack said with a grin, handing her a pair of gloves. "Put these on. And grab that muck rake over there."

Rarity slipped on the gloves, grimacing at how rough they felt. She picked up the rake with obvious distaste, holding it as far from her body as possible.

Applejack chuckled, leading her to the first stall. "Now, first thing’s first: pickin’ hooves. Keeps the horses from gettin’ sore or lame. I’ll show ya how it’s done, then you can give it a try."

Applejack walked up to a towering chestnut horse, murmuring softly as she ran her hand down its leg. The horse shifted its weight, and Applejack lifted its hoof with ease. "See? You take this hoof pick here," she said, demonstrating, "and scrape out the dirt and rocks. Careful not to hurt the frog, that’s this soft bit right here in the middle."

Rarity watched, her expression somewhere between fascination and revulsion. When Applejack finished, she dusted off her hands and stepped aside. "Your turn."

Rarity hesitated, glancing up at the massive animal. "What if it kicks me?"

"Won’t happen if you’re calm and gentle," Applejack assured her. "He can feel your nerves, so just act like you know what you’re doin’."

Summoning all her courage, Rarity approached the horse. She mimicked Applejack’s movements, murmuring something unintelligible as she reached for the hoof. The horse cooperated, and she managed to lift it, though her arms trembled slightly.

"That’s it, good girl," Applejack encouraged, her tone soft but teasing.

Rarity’s face flushed at the words, and she nearly dropped the hoof. Gritting her teeth, she focused on the task, scraping out the dirt as carefully as possible. When she finally finished, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

"Not bad," Applejack said with an approving nod. "Now, let’s get to muckin’ out the stalls. This one’s all yours."

Rarity stared at the pile of manure in the corner of the stall, her stomach churning. "Lovely," she muttered, grabbing the rake.

Applejack leaned against the stall door, watching with a smug grin. "Don’t forget to shovel it into the wheelbarrow. And, uh, don’t step in it."

Rarity shot her a glare but got to work, her movements clumsy but determined. As the morning wore on, she found herself sweating, her carefully styled hair falling out of place. Still, she pushed through, refusing to let Applejack’s smugness get the better of her.

By the time they finished the stalls, Rarity was exhausted and covered in a light sheen of sweat, but she held her head high.

"Not bad for a city girl," Applejack said, tossing her a water bottle.

Rarity caught it and took a long sip, wiping her brow. "You’d better appreciate this effort, Applejack. I think I’ve aged a decade."

Applejack chuckled, tipping her hat. "Oh, I appreciate it, sugarcube. And you’ll be even better at it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Rarity groaned, already dreading what was next.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon as Applejack and Rarity trudged back to the farmhouse. The warm, golden light bathed the fields, and the distant sounds of crickets filled the air. Despite the exhaustion, she had to admit there was something oddly peaceful about the farm at sunset.

Inside, Granny Smith had left a simple dinner waiting for them: vegetable stew with cornbread on the side. They sat down at the table, their boots kicked off by the door, and began to eat.

"Y’know," Applejack said between bites, "I didn’t think you’d last past the first pile of manure. Gotta say, I’m impressed."

Rarity arched a brow, holding her spoon with the delicacy of someone at a five-star restaurant. "Please. I can handle anything you throw at me. You’ll just have to excuse me if I don’t enjoy it."

Applejack smirked, leaning back in her chair. "Oh, I noticed, darlin’. That little gag reflex of yours gave you away more than once."

Rarity’s cheeks flushed, and she shot her a sharp glare. "I beg your pardon. If I recall, I wasn’t the one slipping on… well, you know."

"Hey, that was one time!" Applejack protested, a hint of laughter in her voice.

"Once was enough," Rarity replied with a sly grin, clearly pleased with her jab.

The banter continued as they finished their meal, and by the time the dishes were cleared, the teasing had turned into light shoves and playful swats.

"You think you’re funny, huh?" Applejack said, standing with her hands on her hips, a mischievous look in her eye.

"Well, someone has to be," Rarity retorted, stepping away but not fast enough.

Applejack lunged, gently grabbing her wrist and spinning her around, causing Rarity to stumble with a surprised yelp.

"Let go!" Rarity said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as laughter bubbled out.

"What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little farm girl roughhousing?" Applejack teased, holding her at arm’s length while Rarity squirmed.

Rarity finally broke free and turned, giving Applejack a firm shove in retaliation. Applejack laughed and retaliated with a light tug at Rarity’s borrowed plaid shirt.

"Careful, darlin’, wouldn’t want to rip my old shirt. Might make you feel exposed."

Rarity’s face turned crimson, but she quickly masked it with a glare. "Oh, you are insufferable!"

"Am I?" Applejack leaned closer, her grin downright smug.

Rarity turned away, trying to suppress the flustered feeling rising in her chest. Her hands fiddled with the cuffs of her sleeves, and she took a deep breath to regain her composure. "You’re lucky I’m too tired to deal with you properly."

Applejack chuckled, stepping back and raising her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, truce. For tonight, anyway."

Rarity rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips. As much as Applejack’s teasing got under her skin, there was something disarmingly genuine about her that Rarity couldn’t quite ignore.

"Good," Rarity said, smoothing her hair and standing tall. "Because tomorrow, I’ll be the one outsmarting you."

Applejack’s grin widened. "We’ll see about that, princess."

[nickeverdeen]

Hii! Could i request a matchup from tlou universe (either part 1 or part 2, whichever one you decide on)

I’m a femme lesbian, and use she/her pronouns

I’m 4’9 and quite skinny, and absolutely zero muscle whatsoever, like opening a water bottle is a whole workout for me. I’m mentally I’ll and neurodivergent, as well as having chronic pain. I’m a model, but in my free time I like to bake/cook, do crosswords and puzzles, garden, and spend time in nature. I have a very hyper-feminine style, like I do not own a single piece of clothing that isn’t pink, white, yellow, or something pastel, and literally only have one pair of pants in my whole wardrobe that I only wear when it gets cold, yet I am, ironically, always cold. I have really long, wavy hair, big gray doe eyes, and always wear pink lipstick + lipgloss. I usually spend anywhere between an hour to an hour and a half on my hair and makeup daily. Makeup, hair, and fashion occupy most of my time, yet my type is women who literally have no clue about anything when it comes to things like that. Butches/studs and mascs are literally the greatest creation on earth.

Most people hear I’m a model, and that I like fashion and makeup and whatever and assume I’m some stuck up, rich bitch, but I’m literally the polar opposite. I would much prefer to be somewhere like the countryside, or in the mountains or something like that, than anywhere in the city. I’m such an introvert and barely ever leave my house, if it’s not for modelling, grocery shopping, or volunteering at my local soup kitchen. Like I couldn’t tell you the when last time I went out was. I love spending time in nature like I said, but that nature is mostly just my own garden and backyard.

I absolutely love cats, I have four of them, and they’ve all been adopted from the shelter. I also love collecting things, like trinkets, letters, stuffed animals, etc. I love romcoms and animated movies (like studio ghibli, Disney etc, but no I am not one of those weird Disney adults, I just watch the movies sometimes😭) and absolutely hate horror movies and action movies. I’m like the worlds most sensitive person, like I’ll cry over ANYTHING, if someone just changes the tone of their voice while talking to me, I instantly assume they suddenly hate me/ are mad at me and I’ll start crying, but also somehow find it kinda hot if someone is like teasing me, or playfully ‘bullying’ me. My type is someone very opposite to me really, so I guess opposites really do attract.

I also have a vinyl collection, and just listen to pretty much any kind of music, except for hip hop/rap, metal and electronic really. I don’t really like country music either unless it’s Taylor Swift. My music taste is basically the stereotypical lesbian music (Hozier, girl in red, Julien baker/boygenius, Chappel roan, MUNA, etc…) but also some random artists sprinkled in like Frank Sinatra, and Beethoven, like my music taste is all over the place, pretty much anything from the 30’s up until now, with some classical music too

Anyway, sorry if this is too long, you definitely don’t have to do this matchup, or get to it quickly, just take your time. I hope you have a great day/night and thank you so much if you do do a matchup!! <3

Your TLOU(2) match is…

Ellie Williams

Ellie would be extremely protective of you, knowing that you’re not very strong and have chronic pain

She’d make sure to do any heavy lifting and wouldn’t let you strain yourself

Even though Ellie isn’t the best cook, she’d love helping you out while baking or cooking

She’d probably mess up a lot at first, but you’d guide her, and it would always turn into a fun, messy time together

Ellie would love your cats and would probably end up adopting a few more with you

She’d joke about becoming “crazy cat ladies” together in an apocalypse

Knowing how you’re always cold, Ellie would constantly offer her jacket or cuddle close to keep you warm, especially during chilly nights

Ellie would tease you about your hyper-feminine style but would secretly find it adorable

She might even try on some of your pastel-colored clothes or accessories just to see your reaction

She’d sit with you while you played your vinyls, sharing her own music recommendations and talking about which songs remind her of you

Sometimes you’d just sit in comfortable silence, letting the music fill the room

Ellie would definitely “bully” you in a playful, teasing way, knowing you secretly liked it

She’d enjoy making you blush and then showering you with compliments right afterward

During your time together, Ellie would always be on the lookout for little trinkets, letters, or stuffed animals to add to your collection

It would become her personal mission to find something cute for you whenever she went on a supply run

Ellie would constantly compliment you on your appearance

Even though Ellie didn’t know much about gardening, she’d love hearing you talk about it and would start helping out in your garden just to spend more time with you

She’d be there for you during moments of anxiety or sensitivity, offering comfort and reassurance

Ellie would be your anchor in moments of emotional overwhelm, knowing how deeply you feel things

You’d have movie nights where you’d watch romcoms or animated films together, and Ellie would secretly love it, even if she pretended not to

She’d hold your hand during the sad parts and occasionally sneak in a kiss when you got too emotional

Even though you’re not the strongest, Ellie would patiently teach you some survival skills, like how to shoot a bow or defend yourself

She’d make sure you felt capable, even if you rarely needed to use those skills

Given your love of music, Ellie would share some of the songs she knows on her guitar and even sing with you sometimes

It would be your shared way of winding down

Ellie would joke about how she’s your “human heater,” always there to keep you warm

She’d love wrapping you up in blankets or pulling you close during cold weather

Ellie would be fiercely loyal to you

————————

Tag List: @callsignwidow

[eye-of-yelough]

uhhh what would ur other ocs think of gort (me personally i love thinking about how he would break each one of my characters mentally & physically in a way specifically crafted entirely for them but that’s not an ask i should send i think)

so i thought the question was “how would gortash manipulate your ocs” and answered that question as well so. you’re getting the answer to both cos i don’t wanna delete. its kinda long so 👇

Leo Hawke, Dragon Age 2: kill kill kill bite devour mutilate. Gortash is everything he hates and everything she wants to be. cool, commanding, smart, feared, respected, loved, powerful. swag off the charts, i know he’d love the outfit.

How he’d manipulate him: easy. kill the only family he has left, Anders and Isabela, or keep them from her. actually yeah locking Anders up in solitary confinement, somewhere he spent an entire year before, that she regularly holds him about when he gets claustrophobic or has nightmares about. the thought of Anders in a small dark cell all alone with his thoughts would break him and he’d simply do Anything to ensure he’s not in there a moment longer than he has to be :/ that being said her first instinct would simply be to kill the man, and he’d definitely try, even if it’s a dumb idea. and honestly not to hype my own oc up too much but if anyone could, it’d be her. one woman (not really a woman) army of a reaver when a loved one is on the line. monster. could probably cleave his way through a dozen lackeys and at least 2 steel watchers solo before getting tired, and that’s only if they’re even in the way.

Slater Adaar, Dragon Age Inquisition: she’d be smart enough to know to be terrified of him. just be a useful tool while keeping as much distance as possible and keeping an eye out for the exits at all times. run at the first opportunity, no heroics.

How he’d manipulate her: i am realising i don’t actually know her all too well. autistic qunari sera romancing artificer pursedog butch lesbian who just wants a normal life away from politics and armies and magic and sainthood, damnit. that’s all i’ve really got on her. so, i guess using the promise of a normal life. tell ya what, she’d make a great deep cover secret agent. she is definitely an oc i could stand to make more interesting lmao

Vice, Skyrim: competition, quite simply. he has a thing about dragon imagery, right? subtler than the sun stuff, but it’s there? but is it about being a dragon himself, or subduing them. either way, they’d scoff at his posturing. underestimate him for sure, letting their ego and lack of respect for humans stop them from being smart. they have lawful evil no empathy aroace megalomaniac in common, so they’d definitely have an interesting time together :)

How he’d manipulate them: power. specifically the power to do their human experiments in peace. freedom from legal consequence, basically. it would be difficult to dominate or even get a good read on Vice and their desires tho, even for Gort. i mean. they don’t speak. and have pretty good control over their emotions. they’d be playing psychological 4D chess and it would be so entertaining. (remembers it doesn’t have to manipulation, it can be about breaking physically) OH YEAH. YEAH that’s the one. it would still be HARD to keep them down, draconic force of nature that they are, but i’m sure the gorster would be able to figure something out.

uhh . oh man is that all my ocs. i mean no, there’s my newish tav, “we have Romeo’s zeke at home” Ginger (half elf, same face shape, ranger, shart romancer??! i promise this is a coincidence idk how it happened) uhh i have a Khajit oc i’ve never talked about whose name is Ace and i have nothing else on him. OHHH GALE MY DRAGON AGE CIRCLE MAGE OC WHO DIDN’T WORK AS SURANA. uhh yeah he’d simply have no use for that old woman sorry. i need to change her name man can’t let her get confused with the bg3 wizard.

how could i forget Jack, Jack Valentine, my gta 5 guy i’ve had for like 3 years and also never once talked about despite loving him forever even if i’ve kinda forgotten him lately cos i haven’t played it in ages. kind of a self insert type, or at least the closest oc i do have to one, so. he’d make an alright lackey, i think. he’d probably hate the gort but ultimately fall for his shit after a while. like with gale he’d be very disposable.

man i need to think of better ocs these guys are boring

[gunslinginnhogtyin]

@dragonskxn replied: "Hey, no, it's okay," Annalise reassures him, taking a seat next to him in the grass. Looks like this wasn't going to be just be a simple answer. "You can take all the time you need, okay? I'm more than willing to listen.”

A brief smile crawls onto his face at her reassurance.

“Well, t’answer yer question, I…I wasn’t born with it. ‘Fact, I was born a normal ol’ human. It wasn’t until I got put away in that magic book that I started t’change.” Butch admits, seeming to just now realize that he hadn’t even mentioned that damn book, had he? It’s sweet though, to think she hadn’t questioned it before now because she saw him no differently because of these features.

“Shit, I ain’t even mentioned all that, huh?” The cowboy releases a sheepish chuckle before continuing on, “Back in my century, when I was still workin’ on my Pa’s farm, I met this woman an’ she was a witch. Not a mean kinda witch but I mean literally, this woman could cast spells an’ shit. She was… well, at th’ time it was th’ kindest anyone’s ever been t’me so I thought she was as sweet as could be an’ I couldn’t stand my Pop’s so I high tailed it outta there with ‘er. She was my best friend fer a long time,” though ten years held no candle to all the time lost in that book.

“We ate together, fought together, travelled together, robbed a bank or two together—everythin’ was just peachy. ‘Least… I didn’t have any complaints.” His tone suggests his partner in crime must have felt differently. “She had this magic book she took with ‘er everywhere where she’d trap away evil magic t’protect this world. We’d ventured int’ it a few times fer th’ hell of it an’ it was dangerous but we never went alone. It was…its own world in there. Dark an’ creepy, an’ it was always changin’.” As Butch continues, his tone grows a bit more serious, as does the look on his face as he revisits these events in his head.

“I dunno why or where it came from but one day, she told me there was danger an’ I needed t’hide. So, she did her whole magic thing an’ put me in there—I didn’t wanna go in alone an’ I tried t’get ‘er t’come with me but…” A soft sigh followed by a pause as he shakes his head, eyes finding the ground. He plays with some grass as he begins an again.

“…She said she’d find me later but, uh, that…never happened. She never came back fer me. I thought… somethin’ horrible happened to ‘er fer a long time. That place was… somethin’ else. I’d say worse than Hell but I ain’t ever been, heh.” He tries to toss a little joke in there to keep the air lighthearted though it’s a bit too late for that.

“It…changed me. I dunno how but I could feel it, an’ there was nothin’ I could do about it. These horns an’ tail, they hurt when they first grew in, real bad. It was…” he peers up in thought, momentarily squinting an eye shut. “Oh, I’d say a year or so ago when I finally was let outta that thing… by one’f her relatives. An’ that was by accident. That’s when they told me… she was dead.”

“An’ I know it ain’t much NOW… but it ain’t over. I’m… one’f them now, I jus’ know it.” Though he’s not even sure what ‘them’ is. An evil spirit of some kind? A demon? An honest to god demon? He didn’t know. His old partner in crime was the one who knew all that magic mumbo jumbo. I don’t feel th’ same as b’fore, I—“ Seeming to realize he’s been rambling, he stops himself, looking to Annalise a bit embarrassed, his head tilted down some.

“Er, s-sorry this is… it’s a lot. I jus’… want ya t’know everythin’ so ya understand. You’f all people deserve t’know… I dunno how much longer I got lookin’ like this. I dunno… what I might become. I figured maybe leavin’ that place stunted that weird ass transformation, but…” Butch trails off, averting his gaze. It’s obvious he’s been holding this all in for a long time. It’s hard to be so terrified of his unknown fate when he was raised to ignore such feelings.

Absentmindedly and without another word, he plucks out a cigarette from behind his ear and lights it up with a match.