#I love men who are idiots

[sisterkosho]

Do you think Illuso gives off Himbo energy and why?

He is big, hot and dumb. Need I say more?

Ok but no in all seriousness, I am in fact a himbo Illuso truther. It mainly started off as a joke because of the fact that all of the Illuso bots on character ai have absolutely ZERO brain cells whatsoever and it’s funny, but the more I thought about it, the more I could see the vision. He definitely isn’t a character that would normally be considered a himbo, but the energy… the vibe… it’s there if you squint hard enough. He has potential.

For starters, this man is 🅱️ig. Like… really 🅱️ig. Even bigger than Risotto according to some inconsistent information on the wiki. He’s a whole 6'2, has giant honkers, 6 pack abs that the animators went out of their way to include in the Blu-rays and he’s absolutely gorgeous. So already, he’s got some points. But on top of that… my god is he stupid. Not the unintelligent kind of stupid, but the kind of stupid that makes you wonder “sir, why are you the way that you are?” He just really gives off the vibes of someone that acts all cool and confident, but in reality there isn’t a thought behind those eyes most of the time. All of his brain matter went straight into his honkers, and believe it or not, there are some canon examples of him being an absolute idiot with the attention span of a goldfish. Such as the MULTIPLE instances where he very easily could’ve won the fight but didn’t because he 1: spent way too much time monologuing about how cool he was, and 2: didn’t deal the finishing blows when given the chance because he kept getting distracted by something else at the last second. Sure you could probably just chalk this up to plot armor, but it does make me want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him around a bit. And while I know that silly doesn’t necessarily equal stupid, I also have to once again point out his goofy ah dub lines because they do make me question if perhaps he’s lacking a few brain cells.

I also feel like he’s the kind of person that gets progressively dumber the more you get to know him. He’s smart when he needs to be, especially on the job. But when you’re hanging out with him in a casual setting? You will very quickly realize that this man does not think before he speaks or does literally anything. So while he isn’t unintelligent by any means, he IS an absolute idiot which I think counts for something. However, there is one thing that he lacks in terms of himbo qualification. Kindness. Illuso is pretty much La Squadra’s resident mean girl, which would mean that he may qualify more as a jock than a himbo. HOWEVER! We all seem to have collectively agreed that his attitude is just a front to cover up his insecurities, which implies that he’s a lot more emotional than he lets on. And the fact that he actually cried in canon may actually be evidence of this. Which leads me to believe that perhaps he’d be a lot nicer towards people he feels he can trust and open up to.

TLDR: Illuso is not your typical himbo, but the energy is there. He isn’t necessarily unintelligent, but he’s definitely an idiot that doesn’t think before he does things. And while he isn’t necessarily kind, I like to think that he’s a softie at heart.

Look at him. Look at his stupid face.

[cerise-on-top]

hi :D if you do character x character (with possibly x reader, too) headcanons, may i request nikprice hcs? aghh.. i love them so much, but there's (in my opinion) little content of them compared to other ships.. if you do have to add reader into it too thats okay :) i don't mind poly (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

but besides that how are you doing? i hope youre doing good :]

Hey there! I'm doing well, thank you! I've actually got five days off next week, which I'm really looking forward to! Plus I get to go to my regular department again too soon enough! But unfortunately, the other apprentice left me with so much work ^^;

NikPrice and NikPrice x Reader

NikPrice:

Although the two of them may be a bit older than some of their peers, they can still be considered idiots, especially when they’re with one another. Sometimes they get weirdly competitive with each other, which can result in either of them getting hurt. Nikolai leads Chimera and Price leads the TF141, both of them sometimes need to show off just how good they are at some things. Nikolai is usually a pretty calm guy, but he does get a bit cocky with Price, so he’ll instigate some competitions. Who can carry the most groceries. Who can find the most dogs and take pictures with them. Who will be favored the most for the week among their boys. It’s just dumb things, and Nikolai does try to cheat his way through most of them, but Price knows him well enough by now to know how he will try to weasel his way into victory. Price usually plays fair and forces Nikolai to do the same. The winner gets bragging rights and that’s about it. Sometimes they poker on who pays for dinner, but they don’t really mess around too much when it comes to more serious stuff. However, they both also compete with each other to show off just how good of a partner they are, even if there’s no need to do that anymore. They can both be proud as peacocks and always need to outdo one another.

Although it may sound stupid, the two of them do spar with each other from time to time. Since they’re about equal in strength it’s actually quite interesting to watch the two of them fight, both have a pretty good technique as well. However, Nikolai has more experience under his belt since he’s quite a bit older than Price. Again, he’s also not above cheating by trying to entice Price with just about anything he can think of. They’re adults, they’re leaders, but they are still morons with each other. Sometimes they fight over the TV remote when Price wants to watch his football game and Nikolai wants to tease him. Price gets mad every time he misses the football game just because he lost to his stupid lover. Nikolai gets a good laugh out of it every time. Although he may love Price more than anyone else, he can be a playful and cocky bastard at times. He makes up for it by taking Price to a real football game in a stadium, though. Can’t enrage the boyfriend too much all the time. Price is usually overjoyed when he does since he gets really into it. There’s nothing better than enjoying some football with Nikolai. Unless Nikolai teases Price about his team losing. In that case the two of them won’t be talking more than necessary for an hour. However, Price goes back to normal after the initial anger of his team losing has worn off.

Nikolai is actually a chef of the master class. He can cook just about anything and make it well at that too. Since he’s been pretty much everywhere at this point he’s learned quite a few recipes from all around the world. He also knows how to use his spices well. Though, his favorite recipes to make are still Russian ones. The two of them cook together often, it relaxes them. Besides, Price gets the privilege of eating Nikolai’s pirozhki before anyone else does. It’s an honor to him since he’s never had anything better in his life. Loves being Nikolai’s taste tester as well. Price isn’t as good a cook as Nikolai, but he does like showing his appreciation for all the good food by cooking something in return. However, his food is kind of bland. It could be worse, but it could also use a lot more spices. Nikolai used to tease Price about that before, but he’s stopped since as Price really does put a lot of effort into cooking for Nikolai. The latter really isn’t so mean to genuinely hurt his boyfriend like that. He does give Price some constructive criticism, though. Offers to help with cooking next time, but both of them know that Nikolai will just take the lead. But in the end, they both really do enjoy cooking with each other, regardless of who makes the main dish. They also get really chatty during it.

NikPrice x Reader

Considering how long they’ve been with each other, they've gotten used to it, but you genuinely cannot cuddle them during summer. You’ll become a sweaty mess and won’t be able to sleep at all since they’re both very warm. Nikolai more so than Price. However, the two of them can cuddle each other just fine since they’re used to warmer nights because of all the missions they’ve gone on. However, it’s pretty nice in winter. They’re two big, burly and warm men who love to make you feel toasty. Price is actually a pretty cuddly guy and Nikolai can be too with the right people. If you’re not on the cuddly side then they’ll settle for giving you a pat on the back every once in a while or just holding your hand. But Price loves touching you and Nikolai. He doesn’t need to do it every single waking moment, but it’s nice to hold your loved ones. Nikolai can go either way, but he’s pretty cuddly with Price. Sometimes the two of them fight over who gets to be the big spoon, other times they’ll just plop into each other’s arms. If you’re shorter than them then you’ll likely get sandwiched between them. If you’re as tall or taller than them then they might ask you to take on the role of big spoon. Sure, they won’t mind it when you’re shorter than them, but they’ll chuckle since you’re just a little backpack.

Both of them will try to teach you how to fight and defend yourself. Even if you’re capable of that already, they’ll teach you something anyway. They’re both military men, they know what they’re talking about. Besides, it’s not as unlikely as one might think that you might get hurt because of them. You need to be able to defend yourself. They’ll take turns teaching you, improving your form and all. They’ll sometimes even deliberately spar in front of you so you could learn something from them fighting with each other. They won’t be as rough with you as they are with each other, especially not if you’re not part of the military, but they’ll be diligent in teaching you either way. If you’re part of the military then they’ll be rougher with you, but not as rough as with each other. Nikolai and Price have known each other for so long, they know where each other’s limits are. You’re the newest addition, so there’s still things they need to get to know. But I can assure you they will take good care of you. They’ll also reward you if you’re doing especially well during your little training lessons. Nikolai tries to bribe you into doing well by offering to cook your favorite meal if you do so.

The two of them actually spoil you rotten, especially if you don’t earn as much money as they do. Nikolai earns even more money than Price, so he has quite a lot to spend. Loves buying you and him all kinds of things. These can range from something useful to just something he saw and thought you might like. Price doesn’t like being indebted to people, so he always tries to buy Nikolai something back, even insisting that he shouldn’t buy him as many things. Nikolai never listens to him in that regard. And since Price buys Nikolai things he has to buy something for you as well. Sometimes it’s just your favorite kind of cake, sometimes it’s some nice and expensive jewelry. It’s always a mystery with Price. You don’t have to feel obligated to buy them something either. You’re more than welcome to if you have the finances to do so, but if you usually barely get by then you really shouldn’t have to. In fact, if you don’t have a lot of money then the two of them will pay for just about anything you need. Clothes, food, other necessities. It doesn’t matter. Together they have more money than they know what to do with anyway. It’s nice to spend it on someone you love and make them happy anyway. Don’t pay them back, they’ll find your bank account and return the money. They love you, let them pamper you like the little royalty you are.

[fanficlerontheroof]

[fromtheseventhhell]

Saying that non-conforming female characters don't face as much misogyny as their "feminine" counterparts is so funny cause literally the misogyny in their treatment is more overt because they aren't staying "in their place" like men think they should. The disdain for women + misogynistic societal ideals are so much more blatant in male characters interacting with these women. Countless times they are, in essence, told they need to sit down, shut up, and know their place but somehow that translates into them having "masculine privilege". I can only assume that people with this take haven't actually read the books and only get their information from second-hand sources.

[that-vampire-loser]

Everyone thinking Andrew’s nails are always painted black but in fact most of the time they’re a shade of gray because that’s Neil’s favorite color

[stairswarning]

Stirrup to Stirrup (Rowdy Yates/Original Female Character)

Rawhidefandomweek late entry, day 4:

Free choice / droversona/ self-insert

Read on AO3 here!!

The sun was blistering hot on her back as Ida stormed out of her home, a singular bag in hand. They aren’t gone yet, she kept repeating in her head, a hopeful chant, they aren’t gone yet, they aren’t gone yet… 

Step by dusty step led Ida out of her small, backwards town and towards the safety of freedom. 

The safety of men who had no money or power to trap her. 

The safety of wild land and barely-contained steer.

The safety of mister Gil Favor’s herd. 

She was going to march right up to him and ask that he take her on, no, she would demand it. If he wasn’t in that dusty field by the large magnolia tree, then she would just track him down some other way. Probably by standing on the one hill in a six mile radius and looking around, but that still counted as ‘tracking’ in Ida’s book. 

Her dark, short hair tangled under her hat and stuck out in every direction; her long, house skirt dragged in the dirt and ripped along the edges on the sharp stones buried in the dry dirt. Good, she thought, let it get destroyed. Let the old me die in the dust. 

She could still smell the cattle, even from the opposite side of the hill blocking the town. Good, they hadn’t left Goodsprings yet. He would have to take her on, then, if only just to save another strange woman from her unfortunate circumstances. Ida had seen him do the same thing not three days prior, bringing a troupe of young women - who had been abandoned by one of their husbands to die in the wilderness - into town to live out the rest of their days in peace. 

But Ida did not associate her town with peace. Her parents arranged a marriage for her with the creepy, leering man who ran the general goods store. They claimed he would bring in good money, and Ida’s mother suggested she would only have to suffer physically until she bore him a son. That would not do. Not while she still had breath in her lungs and will enough to move her body. A cowboy’s life would suffice, especially with that as the alternative. 

Fear and anxiety left her body as she approached the chuck wagon, the bright, hazy day casting a magical glow over the cow hands laughing over a poorly cooked meal and a game of cards where they all cheated. mister Favor stood at the center of it all, watching over the men like he did his cattle. Ida approached with the most confidence she could muster, nearly tripping over her ripped skirt hem in the process. She strode to the top of the hill and cleared her throat loud enough to draw the boss’s attention. 

Mister Favor looked shocked to see her– they had only met once before, when the new ladies to town introduced themselves at the cramped old saloon just a few days prior. He had no reason to believe the town would need him again so soon, and on that he was right. The town didn’t need him, she did. 

“Mister Favor,” Ida stood tall at the edge of their makeshift camp, her arms relaxed at her sides, her chin raised. She cannot show weakness. “I would like to inquire about a potential opening in your team, as it were. I saw one of your hands run off with the three lovely ladies, so I would like to fill that space, if you would permit it. Sir.” 

The formal address was tacked onto the end of her thought hastily, although she could barely think with all the eyes locked on her. Some of them seemed to think it was a joke, but others, most particularly the tall ramrod that always found himself near mister Favor, just looked… curious. 

Mister Favor took a steadying breath before replying, “the cowboy life isn’t for just anyone, especially a woman like yourself,” he smiled to himself, “did your folks tell you you needed to work more hours at the general store? Why are you really here?” The men chuckled, the tense energy diffused by the idea of Ida’s wants being so banal. 

“I want my own life, mister Favor,” she refused to cry, refused to turn back, “they wanted to marry me off to the old man that runs the general store, I couldn’t do it, he’s been after me all my life, if I stay in that town I’m as good as dead.”

Mister Favor’s eyebrows shot up. “He’ll kill you?” 

“No. But every year I live tied down to that man with no freedom, no sense of self, no ability to do what I desire– that is a death of attrition, no matter how long or short I live.” 

The men had fallen silent again. The scout - Pete? - cleared his throat. “We do need more hands, mister Favor. That boy that ran off barely did any work in the first place.”

“Yeah,” the ramrod finally found his voice, “and she can lift a lot. I saw her carry a huge sack of flour from one side of town clear across the other. She can handle herself.”

“Rowdy, I’ll judge the situation myself for now.” Mister Favor snaps, which shut him right up. Ida’s glad for it, it gave her time to think: When did the ramrod, Rowdy, she corrected herself, see her carry that flour to the Bennett’s? The cowboys only ever went to the saloon, and mister Favor stopped by the general store only twice. Ida, for one, thought that every man in the town was too preoccupied by the lovely newcomers spinning tales and performing piano trios to see anything else happening around them. Apparently not. 

“We don’t accept women on, usually. You need to understand that, miss…” 

“Ida.”

“Ida, yes, well…” Mister Favor sighed, rolling his head from side to side, “do you know how to ride a horse?” Ida nodded. “Alright. You’re on. Rowdy’ll teach you the rest. Wishbone, get her some pants and a work shirt, will you?”

“I’ll be right on it, mister Favor!” 

Wishbone, the scraggly cook, shuffled over to Ida and gestured her over to the covered wagon. She tensed up. Thankfully, he seemed to notice and understand why. 

“Don’t you worry, Mushy’s just around the corner, and he needs to be told what to do every five minutes or else he goes braindead. This’ll be quick, I promise.” There was something in his eyes that spoke to a greater honesty and truth than Ida could possibly know. And so, she went. 

The days passed. Each mile they rode away from Goodsprings was like a weight lifting away from Ida’s heart. The horses got spooked too easily, the nights were filled with bugs and harsh rocks poking at her spine, the cattle were loud and smelly and the cowboys were the same. 

It was perfect.

What she couldn’t understand about the outfit was Rowdy. He was tall, lean, confident and headstrong. But somehow, he didn’t have a woman or seem to care too much about them. Every man on this team had something wrong with him that explained their lack of a girl back home–Mushy’s simplemindedness, Pete’s closed-off nature, Wishbone’s bullheadedness, Quince and Scarlet being too attached at the hip to care about women, Jesús’s superstitions, mister Favor’s need for control–so Rowdy’s perfection confused her even more. There must be something else wrong with him, a small part of Ida’s brain nagged, Pete complained about his womanizing, that must be it! He moves from woman to woman too quickly! Even though he hadn’t even so much as mentioned a woman in my presence, there must be something wrong with him… He couldn’t possibly be the strong, sweet cowboy I know him for… 

Even with those thoughts running through her head, she couldn’t stop looking at him, day in and day out. His bright smile, his loyalty, his seriousness when it came to his work. She decided to distract herself with reading whenever she wasn’t too busy pushing a few beeves back into line. She only had three books with her, in her haste to leave her childhood home: Crime and Punishment, Pride and Prejudice, and a battered old copy of Hamlet. 

Mushy caught her reading Crime and Punishment by the fire late one night, back pressed to an old tree and and knees up, cradling the book and her mostly-eaten dinner. 

“Is that a book? I didn’t know you could read, miss Ida!” Ida could hear Wishbone’s groan of disapproval through the chuckwagon. She chuckled. 

“Yeah, Mushy, have you heard of this book? Crime and Punishment?” He shook his head. “It’s about a man who commits a terrible crime because he thinks he’ll do good things afterwards, but he only succeeds in hurting himself further and going nuts.” Mushy’s eyes seemed like they would pop out of his head, but Ida seemed to have drawn the attention of some of the other drivers. 

“There’s books like that?” Quince asked, Scarlet also looking intrigued at his side. 

“Well, yeah, there’s books about all sorts of things, fellas,” Ida couldn’t help but laugh, “do you want me to read it aloud?”

The fire crackled in the tense silence around the fire. The men made eye contact with each other, and then with the dust beneath their feet. The young woman could tell the men wanted to say yes, but something was holding them back. mister Favor and Rowdy sat opposite of her, and despite her intention of avoiding Rowdy, her eyes found him regardless. Rowdy gave a small smile and encouraging nod, as if to tell her that she had full control of the situation. She decided to break through the silence with fully artificial confidence. 

“Well! I bet none of you would stop me if I started over from the beginning and read out loud - for no particular reason - towards you all. Correct?” A murmur of agreement rose from the men. That answers that question, she supposed. Ida thumbed through the pages back to the beginning, cleared her throat and began, “On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards K. bridge…”

The day finally came, three months after she started with mister Favor’s crew, where Ida realized she should learn to use a gun. Not just for hunting, but for threatening people and for gun battles.

She learned this useful lesson in the half-second before being shot by a rogue cowboy who was jealous of mister Favor’s success, and probably also because of his disdain for women with jobs outside the home. Not a very useful time to learn it, but thank the great Lord above that the man was a terrible shot and only ended up nicking her upper arm. 

The raucous of the saloon immediately afterwards was worse than the bullet– Jesús and Pete could barely hold Rowdy back from decking the man and ripping him apart, a chair got smashed, Ida heard a gunshot from somewhere, but all she could see was the blood seeping between her fingers clamped over the bullet wound. It took mister Favor’s booming voice nearly shaking the rafters to stop the commotion, and even then Rowdy didn’t stop. 

“Get over here, you coward! You think you can shoot a woman ‘cause you’re mad with mister Favor?? Huh?? That seem like anyone else’s business but yours and his?”  

“Rowdy-” Ida inched towards the man, a blood-covered hand reaching for him. He couldn’t see it though, he was still focused on the man he was reducing to a quivering leaf. 

He tugged an arm out of Jesús’s grasp and stumbled forward to grab the man by his collar, “I oughta rip your damn arms out for hurting Ida like that, you think you’re going to leave this town alive?”

“Row-”

“You ain’t seen mean yet, you whelp!” His fist drew back in Pete’s grasp, but a bloody hand stopped him before he could hit the man. 

Ida’s voice was barely a whisper, “Rowdy,” and it was her hand, gentle against his fist tightened in the man’s shirt that brought him down. 

“Oh gosh, Ida, I-I, I guess I went–” his eyes focused downwards on her arm, his hands releasing the man without fanfare and he collapsed to the ground with a satisfying thud, “show me where it hurts, I can help, I swear.” The pain of the wound was nothing compared to the zap of electricity when his gray-blue eyes locked onto hers, especially after he crouched down a bit to be at her level to look at her wound. 

Ida was hit with the sudden desire to Kiss The Man.

She should not Kiss The Man, especially with such a large audience at such a high energy.

She wanted to Kiss The Man very badly, she found, as he wrapped his long fingers tight around her arm to staunch the bleeding for a moment. She bit her lip as hard as she could to stop herself from kissing Rowdy square on the mouth, and it barely worked. 

Thankfully, Jesús jumped in with great advice, “Let’s get Ida back to camp, yes? Then we can get her better.” That seemed to break Rowdy’s focus enough to let Ida breathe, and she was soon rushed out of the saloon and onto a horse. Nobody would listen to her protests that she wasn’t hurt that badly, not enough to whisk her away and hem and haw over her condition. Something in her wondered if this concern was an attempt at convincing her to stray from the cowboy life, but it felt less like the control of her parents from her youth, and more like caring. Something had happened in the scant months she had worked with the cowboys, and whatever it was, she was grateful. 

Wishbone was tightening the bandages around her arm when mister Favor ambled over to the chuck wagon. He cleared his throat several times and kicked his feet through the dust. There was something he had to say that he didn’t want to– hopefully it wasn’t a, sorry, you need to leave, you suck at this, kind of talk.

“You, ah… Should probably take some pistol lessons. Real soon, hopefully. After your shootin’ arm heals up, of course.” He nods to himself, “Rowdy will help you out with that, so you can ask him more about that later, okay?” 

Ida nodded. She noticed the tips of his ears were red. Her eyebrows furrowed. Was that really it? Gun lessons?

But her unasked questions were answered when mister Favor walked away, towards an irate Rowdy tapping his toe and rolling his eyes. Understanding bloomed over her mind. Rowdy chewed mister Favor out for not teaching her gun skills earlier, did he really care that much about her? The idea warmed her heart something fierce, and the desire to Kiss The Man bubbled up her throat and almost escaped, but she was able to tamp it back down. For now, that is. 

The gun lessons started a few weeks after the saloon incident. Mister Favor had been uncomfortable with Ida coming back into any town afterwards, but she reminded him that they faced more danger with the beeves every day over some idiot with an itchy trigger finger. Thankfully, there wasn’t an idiot with an itchy trigger finger – outside of their outfit – within fifty miles, where they were currently traveling up to Sedalia. It was just Ida and Rowdy at the southernmost point of the bed ground, a few types of guns lying on the grass. 

“Alright, we’ll start with a pistol, okay?” Rowdy started, picking up the pistol and double-checking that the barrel was empty. He handed it to her, and the metal of the grip was still warm from his hands. “You’ll have to put your right hand against the grip, like,” he gestured vaguely, “like this.”

“Rowdy, I have no idea what you mean by that,” Ida couldn’t hold back her laugh, his face scrunched and all his wrinkles showed up, which just made Ida laugh harder. He looked so handsome with that look on his face, and she could feel deep in her gut that she had fallen too hard, she would never recover from this love. 

“Well, I’ll just show ya, then,” Rowdy leaned into Ida, wrapping himself around her back and gently cradling her hands in his. She felt the heat of his chest against her back in a long line. It felt safe, and also a bit hot in both meanings of the word– summertime in northern Texas was nothing to scoff at, even at dusk. 

His hands shaped hers into the way he wanted, and Ida was excited to realize that it felt comfortable to hold the pistol in her grip. Rowdy let go of her hands and let them fall to his sides. His comfortable weight was still pressed against her, which gave her the confidence to take aim at a tree far off and pull the trigger. 

The gun clicked faintly, but all Ida could hear was the huff of breath against the back of her neck. The urge to turn around and Kiss The Man was overwhelming, but there was still one thought that stopped her from the simple motion: she needed this job too badly. If she Kissed The Man and he didn’t reciprocate, or if he only reciprocated for so long, then Ida would have to find a new job. She would probably get left in the next town and be forced to make friends with the corrupt politicians and strange rich folks. Either that, or she would be forced to ride drag until the dust kicked up from the beeves choked her. 

Ida stepped away from the peaceful warmth of Rowdy’s body with a small smile. She just needed more time. Then, maybe, she could take the chance. She turned to him and nodded towards the ammunition. 

“We ready to kick this up a notch?”

More months passed. Men joined and left the outfit as drives started and ended, but a few faces stayed. Ida felt she was stuck with these silly men ‘til the end, but the thought of that didn’t make her scared as it might have before. It warmed her heart, that she chose these men and they chose her. 

The one thing she hadn’t trusted the men with was her birthday. They knew she was in her early twenties, but that was about it. Seasons came and went, demand for beef rose and fell, and still no one knew Ida’s birthday. She claimed it was so they didn’t know exactly how old she was, and so they didn't make her a terrible birthday cake that she had to pretend to like. She knew it was something deeper, her fear of trusting, her fear of being known. Of being loved and cared for. 

One clear spring day at the end of a drive, Ida found herself sitting on a grassy hill somewhere near Sedalia. The air was fresh, the dirt damp, and she was alone with her thoughts and her copy of Hamlet. She had put her book aside a while ago, content just watching the clouds floating by and listening to the robins and bluebirds calling. Her eyes fell shut into a peaceful sleep. 

A shadow over her face interrupted her peace, and with annoyance Ida cracked one eye open to yell at the sonuvabitch who thought bothering her was more important than getting drunk in some hole of a bar. The face that greeted her was wrinkled, sweet, and had bright gray-blue eyes that struck her to her soul: Rowdy. Her face cleared in an instant. 

“Rowdy! Sit down, it’s so comfortable here,” she patted the grass beside her. He listened, sitting down with as much grace as a newborn duck. Ida chuckled, patting his leg. Was it just her imagination, or did the tips of his ears go red? 

“Uh, miss Ida, I had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Ida let out a world-weary sigh. “What did I tell you about calling me ‘miss’? You really don’t have to, we’re friends, right?” She lifted herself up to sit cross-legged next to Rowdy, bumping her shoulder against his. “I know you respect me, and I respect you, but I won’t be calling you ‘mister’ anytime soon.”

Rowdy put a hand to his chest, his jaw dropping open in mock offense. “I’m a respectable sir, Ida, I would appreciate you addressing me as such. Also, I will need a useless tight suit with a collar that buttons up to the throat, since I am such a fine gentleman,” joy danced around his bright eyes, and Ida couldn’t help laughing and leaning further into Rowdy. Her forehead rested against his shoulder and the tremors of his laughter echoed through her. 

“Seriously, though, Ida, I uh, have something for you.” Something about his tone made her giggles disappear. Ida pulled away from Rowdy, looking him in his eyes. He, however, was looking off at the white fluffy clouds along the horizon. He squinted, and Ida had to stop herself from tracing his crow’s feet with her fingers. 

“Alright, are you dying or something? Am I dying?” She left a hint of humor in her voice, leaning into Rowdy’s line of sight to try and draw him back into the conversation. He shook his head absently. 

“No, no, it’s not anything like that, it’s just…” He pulled his hat off and rubbed at the back of his neck with one hand, “can’t a man be shy for once in his life? Boy, this shouldn’t be this difficult…”

The red tinge spreading over his cheeks and down his throat pulled at something primal in Ida, and the desire to Kiss The Man reared its appealing head back into her consciousness. She decided to wait. If she opened her mouth now, she would act rashly. She would compliment him too sincerely, or grab his hand too firmly, or beg him to stay with her forever. 

“It’s been a year since you joined the drive, so I… well, me ‘n the guys, got you something. For it. Your year with us.” He dug around in his side bag for a moment, and pulled out something rectangular wrapped in old newspaper and bound in twine. His long fingers brushed against Ida’s as he passed it to her. 

It was hefty, and Ida had a feeling she knew what it might be. She peeled the wrapping back as gentle as she could, undoing the twine and setting it aside to use again. The paper fell away to reveal a new copy of The Odyssey. Ida held the book close to her chest and glared at the now-grinning Rowdy. 

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You did, you bastard!” She smacked his arm a few times, breathlessly laughing, “you got me a book, you all care too much about me.” 

“I think I might care too much, Ida. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” his face became serious, his eyes locked onto her own, his brows drawn in tight, “you’ve been the only gal for me, this past year. The rest of the crew thought I’d move on, but I haven’t. I won’t.” He leaned closer to Ida. 

Her hands found themselves against his lean chest, and the fear she had held for so long about Kissing The Man seemed so distant, now. 

“You’re important to me, you know that, right? And I want to be important to you. Can I be important to you?” 

“Oh, Rowdy, I’ve been crazy about you since the day we met. Don’t beat around the bush, tell me what you want from me.” Ida knew she was teasing him, but there was always something so beautiful in his coy smiles. 

Ida didn’t have to wait for words– Rowdy pressed his lips to hers firmly, and it felt like something shifted inside of her, as if the beast of desire had finally settled down in her heart. She pushed against him, nearly climbing into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. 

There were only small pauses for breaths and lingering kisses around his mouth, face, throat, and Ida could not get enough. She pressed her mouth against Rowdy’s Adam’s apple and felt him swallow. The motion was far more erotic than she expected it to be.

“Ida, we, ah, should maybe hold on a moment,” His hands pressed further into his spine, which betrayed his true thoughts about stopping their impromptu necking session. 

“Why, you getting too excited?” Ida glanced around. “There’s a stream downhill we can wash ourselves off in afterwards, right as rain.” That made Rowdy choke, and his fingers tightened against her sides. 

“No, but I think you’re making things worse for me now. It’s just,” Ida pressed a kiss under his jaw, “ah, I told the outfit to check up on us fifteen minutes after I came over here, just in case I ruined things.” Ida nipped his earlobe. 

“You ruin things pretty often, but this was not one,” Ida leaned back, admiring Rowdy’s blown pupils and rumpled shirt, “well, maybe not letting us have more alone time ruined it, but you can always make up for that later.” She patted his chest, rolled off of him, and recovered her new book from the damp grass. 

“Really? Starting that book now?” Rowdy sounded upset, but the anxious energy in his fingers and still-obvious tenting in his jeans showed Ida it was just embarrassment. She smiled at him.

“I have to get ahead if I’m going to read this out loud to you all later tonight, but I can sit in your lap while I read if that makes you feel better,” a saccharine grin painted her face.

“...You menace.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a no, Rowdy! You’ve started this relationship, and now you’re all in. You can’t take it back now!” 

Rowdy looked down at his hands. His wrinkles grew as his smile did. “I’ll never take it back, Ida. Not ever.”

The breeze blew past the two of them, and the long grasses whispered a sweet song. The call of the robin echoed in the field.

“You both decent yet?” A hesitant voice called from some ways away, “Or do we need to come back?” The sounds of immature cowhands making obvious jokes followed. All Ida could do was nuzzle her head into Rowdy’s side and be grateful she had found her safety and her freedom in such a rambunctious group of men.

[possumteeths]

As someone who reads like a LOT of dumb romance books, one thing that ticks me off is that the authors always strive so hard for body diversity when it comes to ladies, but that courtesy is never given to the guys. All dudes are always described to be square jawed and muscled and very tall and like… its boring lol.

Its not woke or special to go out of your way to diversify women’s bodies and describe them to be different and then write 1018301 books with the same muscled beefcake abs upon abs motherfucker but like with different hair colors or something. Such emphasis on the lovely softness of plus size women, but then clear disgust for fat or softness when it comes to a guy. Sure. Alright. I hate it.

[hussyknee]

Fiction (and sometimes real life) has this tendency to frame a character's stubborn belief in people's goodness in the teeth of all evidence as a virtue. As in, not when the person being judged acts seemingly out of character. It's wise to give aberrant behaviour the benefit of doubt. But consistently apologizing for and ascribing good intent to actions that clearly show a bad character, and then refusing to accept that this person is exactly as bad as the trail of victims they've left behind prove them to be— this is not a mark of goodness and kindness.

Wilful blindness and stupidity don't showcase a generosity of spirit. That's simply the need to cling to your own preconceptions for the sake of your own comfort. It's not kind or fair to defend perpetrators at the expense of the people suffering because of them; and infantilizing and finding excuses for people isn't mercy, it's apologia. ("He was a good boy who fell under bad influence" "Ma'am, he's 28 and sold out his own family to pay his gambling debts.") In both fiction and real life, you should be able to look at the situation and choose to safeguard and defend the victimized and vulnerable first and foremost. To accept that you might be wrong, your faith might be misplaced, and prioritise safety, justice and accountability for all the people who are or might be suffering at your friend or family's hands. Because not doing that— not believing victims, apologizing for and defending abusers, centering the perpetrator's interiority instead of the impacted victim's reality— that's just the default evil of real life.

If you being a pure, loyal little cinnamon roll throws other people under the bus, then you aren't actually a cinnamon roll. You're just complicit, enabling and endangering.

[cognitosclowns]

I saw your Robotus NSFW Alphabet post and please GOD elaborate on him having a fleshlight based on Reader's pussy because he misses them. It's driving me insane your ideas are so good

YES ANON OFC I WILL <33 FAVE SHIT EVER ARE YOU KIDDING

nsfw below!! this is gonna be so long I'm so sorry MNSDMS

he didn't expect himself to miss you so much??

Like you're only gonna be out of town for 3 weeks, max. That's nothing. especially in comparison to how long of a life you two are gonna spend together, that IS nothing.

He repeats that a lot to himself during the coming days.

It's about halfway through the second that he starts missing missing you. Proper yearning. Not just surface level ‘wishing you were with him’ NOPE SMDNS

He’s absolutely lovesick. He finds himself missing every little detail about you.

The smell of your shampoo. The little glint in your eye when you flirt with him. Kissing your warm cheeks after you cum, the lazy smile that follows. The way your eyes light up when he makes a joke.

AND ITS STUPID. HE KNOWS ITS STUPID. ITS IDIOTIC YOU AREN'T ON MARS FOR FUCKS SAKES YOU'RE JUST A FEW STATES AWAY. YOU'LL BE HOME BY THE END OF THE MONTH. HE WANTS TO GRAB HIMSELF BY THE SHOULDERS AND SHAKE.

He feels so dramatic but. that changes nothing. he's still stuck in Yearning Hell.

He definitely tries masturbating, because that seems like the easiest way to tamp it down until you're back, but it isn't the same. 

Sure, he cums, and it's perfectly fine, but the wanting doesn't go away. There's still that aching sensation. 

if anything, he feels worse after because it's not you. It's just a new reminder of how amazing it is being intimate with you and how far away you are.

AND,, WELL,

It's definitely an impulse decision.

(Granted, most of his decisions are impulse decisions, so.)

He's got a full 3D model of your innards bc. of course he does smdnsd.

Shockingly, it isn't even smth he actively kept info about? he just has so many sensors in his dick that it just,, naturally acquires that kinda data, and it gets stored away subconsciously. 

Wouldn't even be hard to print out something usable. a few minutes at most...

Yeah after the base idea crops up, he considers it for maybe,, .5 seconds before caving smdnsmd.

He keeps internally scoffing at himself as he sets up the printer, fills in the silicone, inputs the instructions. Sighing his nonexistent lungs out.

Just a constant mental stream of 'you are such an idiot you are such an idiot you are such an idiot' as he undoes his belt MSNDMSD truly he is. Experiencing.

actually,, using it,, oh lordie,,

he hates, hates that it gets a full-throated 'oh fuck' out of him, but it absolutely does.

Is it perfect? Not even close. A pale imitation at best. The slickness of lube is too artificial, there's none of that Human Warmth he's grown accustomed to, he can't cradle your face or squeeze your hips.

Is it just enough for him to pretend it's you? YEP <33

He only gets about 5 thrusts in before his first orgasm, and tbh his artificial cum really helps pull the illusion together?

It stays warm inside his tanks, heated by his motor, and it fills up the inside of the toy in no time.

It cools down pretty fast, but it's no problem because he replaces it just as quick <3

He's split between. feeling absolutely mortified that he's humping a piece of lukewarm silicone like some sort of animal vs not giving a singular fuck because it hits the exact spot he needs it to.

<333333

He isn't entirely sure how long he goes for, but when he's done the sun is firmly in the sky, which makes his cheeks feel more than a little artifically warm.

Thankfully, the toy itself fairly easy to dispose of, since it's virtually unrecognizable by the time he's done.

maybe. he'll keep those designs on file. for future use. just in case.

OH and don't think this spoils the welcome-home sex - think of it as an appetizer <33 just a reminder of what he's had to be away from!!

so. um. *pinwheels into the atmosphere*

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

The way I feel about Anakin Skywalker is very similar to how I feel about Edward Cullen.

[fatsmyname]

you dont have to answer this question but ive been feeling really confused about myself lately.

ive gone back and forth on identifying as a trans man or a gnc woman so ive settled on the label "transmasc woman" bc i want to physically transition to a degree but i have some attachment with womanhood solely through butches and other gnc women.

however i am bisexual and i've received a lot of hatred from other sapphics cause of my past with men even though i mainly prefer women now.

i want to embrace butchness bc i feel so attracted to that community but im scared i'll be rejected cause of my past with men. is butch solely for lesbians and if so, is there a similar label i can use to make up for the fact that im bi?

hey there anon!! first I wanna say sorry you experienced that from other lesbians/queer folk that’s literally so gross and stupid 😭 but there are bi butches!!! ive met some before but butch is historically a term that’s been used by many groups, such as gay men, lesbians, and bisexuals! if the word butch resonates with you, you don’t have to justify using it imo

being genderfucked is confusing! and to this day i teeter between language used mostly by trans men and language from butches. sometimes you will always be confused about yourself (i know i def am) and learning to live with the uncertainty really helps. understanding and accepting that u are in a constant state of flux and that how you feel today can change tomorrow!! and there’s nothing wrong w that :3

[lightfromandromeda]

i lov it when theyre in situations

[menalez]

sometimes i think about the last abusive relationship i was in and realise how actually insane it was. my ex was a “pro” dominatrix and i remember her trying to guilt me into basically being involved with that so that she could make more money. i could not stomach doing it and was willing to just give her the money i had (& struggle financially as a result) but damn, i didn’t see the extent of how fucked up her trying to pressure me into that stuff and her constant guilt-tripping mixed in with her abusive outbursts at the time was bc i loved her and was so convinced that she was just a good person who’s struggling. the struggling part, i think, was true but her being a good person.. not so much

[badolmen]

Hm sorry I just don’t think *checks notes* ‘homophobia [extra bad because they’re muslim]’ gives anyone the right to bomb civilian hospitals, homes, ambulances, and children.

[mephi-does-things]

Girl help I keep restarting my BG3 playthroughs the moment I reach act 3

[hirokiyuu]

wow so when i wrote this i was like "hey this i'm only posting bc it's the first part to something much funnier" and then completely forgot to post the followup. so here have some dys>sol(>cal/tammy) bracelet scene pre-pre-pre-rship stuff. i love when kids are dumb and in love

it's ok (we'll find our way); 1k

When Sol crests the hill to where Dys is packing for his next trip out, the very first thing that Dys looks at are his wrists, because Dys is an idiot. Because apparently Sol is also an idiot, he is in fact wearing the databand, spinning it with his other hand as he stares down at it. “Hi, Dys.”

Thank fuck half the time he just nods hello at Solana anyways, because trying to unstick his jaw from where it’s glued shut sounds pretty impossible right now. Not that Sol even notices, really, still staring down at his dumb new bracelet. “Um. Can I… can I get another ten minutes where you don’t tell me you think something’s stupid?”

Thank fuck that him packing means he has an excuse to turn around. Against all odds his dumb voice doesn’t crack as he says, “Sure?”

“Someone likes me?” Sol blurts, instantly, and when he glances over, Sol is blushing. Stars. Dys kind of wants to die. “Like, I got this message on Vertumnalia, and apparently, um, this --” he holds up his wrist, like Dys hasn’t been staring at it since the moment he showed up “-- is from a, a secret admirer?”

Yeah, I fucking know. He bites it back. “Oh.”

“Someone likes me,” Sol repeats; he’s staring down at the dumb thing with stars in his eyes. “No one’s ever liked me before. Like, I mean, I thought, um. I thought Cal did, and I was…. I was totally wrong there, y’know?”

Because Cal is the stupidest person in the colony, yeah. Why anyone would ever pick Tammy with Sol as an option, Dys will never understand. “But…” says Sol, and the smile that had faltered on his face for a moment is back, small and sweet. “But I guess someone does.”

Okay. Maybe the whole thing wasn’t such a terrible idea after all, if it makes Sol smile like that. Or at least, that’s what Dys thinks for exactly two seconds, before suddenly Sol looks up at him and blurts, “Who do you think gave it to me?”

Nevermind, Dys wants to die again; he jerks back around, grabbing the nearest ration to shove into his pack so Sol won’t see him blush or whatever. Luckily Sol doesn’t actually seem to be expecting an answer, already barreling on ahead: “Like, I was thinking about it, and I really don’t know? Like, at first I thought maybe it was one of the Helio kids, but I don’t really know any of them that well, and whoever made this, um… I mean, it has a bunch of stuff I’m into, y’know? All the music and vids and stuff that I like?”

Next time Sol starts talking about Sanctuary Moon, Dys is turning on his holospeak and pretending he’s gone deaf. “So that kinda narrowed it down, I guess, to one of us? But like, obviously it’s not Cal--” because he’s an idiot, as previously established, and fuck but Dys hates the way Sol’s face drops a little just saying that “--and Nemmie’s super gone on that Vace guy already, so I knew it wasn’t her, and that just leaves --”

--oh fuck here it comes--

“--Marz?”

Dys stops. Puts his things down. Turns around. “...What?”

“I know!” Sol’s got his face buried in his hands, which is good, because Dys has absolutely no idea what kind of expression he’s making himself right now.  “I know, I don’t like it either, like….” He drags them down his face before looking up at Dys; for a moment seeing Dys’s face he wilts, but then rallies again. “I-I mean, it’s a nice gift! It’s a really, really nice gift, y’know? It made me… it made me really happy, okay?”

Stars. Of course it did. There’s a weird lump in Dys’s throat when he hears that, but Sol, still charging stupidly ahead, doesn’t even notice. “But even if I liked girls, I wouldn’t like Marz, she’s way too mean and bossy and I just….” Sol sighs again, slumping over, and despite his words he’s still playing with the bracelet. “I didn’t even think she noticed me that much.”

“She doesn’t.”

Sol blinks, looks back up. “What?”

Fuck. It’s too late to take the words back. Dys takes a single breath, wipes his palms against his legs, and then manages, “It wasn’t from Marz.”

“Oh,” says Sol. He’s got that same puzzled frown he always gets when they’re up on the walls and he’s struggling through his homework. “Wait, really? But how do you know… that….”

The silence is deafening, as the frown gives way to slowly widening eyes. Dys, for his part, turns around and starts shoving all his stuff into his bag as fast as he can, who gives a shit about organizing right now? “Dys,” says Sol, a little unsteadily, and even without looking Dys can picture the way his whole awful handsome face has gone slack in surprise. “Are you my --”

“So what if I am?” he interrupts immediately, because if Sol actually says the words he’s going to die. His face is on fire. “Don’t make a big deal about it.”

“Oh,” says Sol, still sounding totally bewildered. Dys should’ve chucked the stupid databand off the ridges when he’d finished making it; he starts buckling up the pack and ignores the fact that the top won’t go totally shut. When he glances back, just for a second, Sol’s gone red too, still staring at him, and in return Dys flushes even more and looks back away. “I-I won’t.”

“Good,” says Dys, reaching his limit. Before this stupid conversation can drag on any longer he grabs his pack and hustles away, not quite sprinting only because he can’t actually run with the stupid thing on. As he goes, though, he glances over his shoulder once last time.

Sol’s still standing right where Dys left him, head tilted back down to the bracelet, touching it gently the way he had been when he’d first walked up. On his face Dys can just barely make out that same small, shy smile as before. Dys nearly trips; Sol looks up; their eyes meet and for a moment that smile grows just a little before Dys whips his head back forward, his own dumb heart pounding so loud it’s all he can hear.