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#and way earlier
kate-bot · 1 month
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you guys ATE UP THAT LAST POST HUH!!!!!!!! have some doodles
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fandomsandfeminism · 1 year
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Yall wanna hear a kinda funny, kinda sad story about my grandmother and hetero-normativity?
Ok, so... when my grandmother was in her 50s (I was an infant), she met a woman at the Unitarian Church. And, as can happen when you meet your soul mate, this event made it impossible for her to deny parts of herself that she had fiercely hidden her whole life.
All the drama- their affair being found out, the divorce with my grandfather, the court battle over who got the house, happened while I was a baby. Even in my earliest memories, it's just Mama Jo and Oma, and my grandfather lived elsewhere (first his own apartment, then a nursing home, then with us.)
But here's the thing- no one ever explained any of this to me. No one ever sat down and was like "hey, Rosie, so do you know what a lesbian is?" It was the 90s. It was Texas. I think my mom was still kinda processing all this, and just assumed that like... I was gonna figure it out. Don't mention it, let it just be normal. Like I think my mom thought that if she explained the situation, she would be making it weird? I dunno.
But like. In the 90s, in all the movies I had seen and books I had read, do you know how many same sex couples I had seen? Like. 0. Do you know how many "platonic best friend/roommates" I had seen? A lot. I had no context, is what I'm saying.
I literally thought this was a Golden Girls, roommates, besties situation until I was like...I dunno, 11? 12?
It was actually their parrot, an African Grey named Spike, imitating my grandmothers voice saying "Johanna, honey, it's getting late", that triggered the MIND BLOWN moment as I realized that *there's only one master bedroom and it only has 1 waterbed* when all the pieces finally clicked.
Anyway. I think it's a real important thing for kids to know queer people exist, for a lot of reasons, but also because kids can be clueless and it's embarrassing to have your grandmother be outted by a parrot because everyone just thought you'd figure it out on your own.
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Anyway, here is my grandma and her wife, my Oma, after they moved to Albuquerque to be artsy gay cowboys and live their best life. They helped run a "Lesbian Dude Ranch" out there (basically just with funding and financial support. As Oma has explained "traditionally, most lesbians don't have a lot of money" so they wrote the checks and let the younger ladies actually run the ranch.)
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aerequets · 13 days
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sorry
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it gets progressively messier the sleepier i get, but i feel like it fits the vibe!
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bluegiragi · 3 months
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aware (part 2)
early access + nsfw on patreon
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backpackingspace · 27 days
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My actual favorite part of wisdom saga is telemachus trying to lean against Athena (he thought about that for .03 seconds and then was like nah !!! :D she's my friend not the goddess of war!!! Good to see that the audacity is running strong in odysseus's family) and then just passed threw her and fell on the floor. And then Athena did not move at all!!! And just stood there looking at him.
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peachesofteal · 6 days
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Simon Riley who’s not well adjusted and sticks his thick fingers in your mouth whenever he wants.
He pinches your cheeks together too. Holds the fat tight enough it stings. Enjoys the way your eyes dart around the pub, watching everyone watch you, their concern and curiosity shrinking away when he glares at them.
Ignores Johnny when he hisses to let ‘er go, murmuring that he’s making a scene, and “ye’re gonna get us kicked out again LT.” He holds your pretty face in his fist and smiles as you start to squirm.
Though pinching your cheeks is nothing like sticking his fingers in your mouth.
He’ll grip your chin on the train and press his thumb to the tip of your tongue, forcing it against porcelain teeth. Tips as sharp as razor clams, he scrapes the gnarled edge of his fingernail across their jagged tops, before returning to depress the flat of your tongue until your eyes go wide. Can’t swallow? Can’t breathe. Problem, pet?
He likes the way your teeth shine. Oyster shells iridescent in the sparkling sun of a beach, shucked and shattered, punished by the force of the surf, or the prying strike of a predator. No one shell is alike, millions of spirals and patterns, scotch bonnets and scallops, cockles and cowries, all lining the shore, but you’re the one he sifted through sand to find. His nautilus shell. A perfect spiral, a Fibonacci sequence, the sum of his life and his choices, all here in his hand. One day, he’ll pluck a pearl from behind your teeth, one harvested for him, built from the swirl of brackish water, salt soaked crystals rolled across a seabed until they took shape, a thing, a beautiful thing, made of you, made of him.
He’s fed them to you before. Oysters. Cracked their hinges with his own fists and slipped them down your throat, sea salt and sweet, he couldn’t help but lick inside your mouth after each one, shoving into cracks and crannies, zest of a lemon still tart on your tongue.
You bit him once. The ocean is a tempest, a reflection of yourself, violence humming in a swell only Poseidon could soothe. He gentled your wild tides after that, taught you the stark difference between good behavior and bad, smart choices and reckless ones.
You’re a good girl. You learned.
His fingers find the velvet catch of your cheek too often, and though his cock prefers the back of your throat, the thrashing, vibrating squeeze of your swallows, he likes to tuck into the silk beside your molars. Pretty pockets of a conch shell, protecting a panacea, one made only for him, for his scars.
He drifts there, carried on ocean currents too strong to be stopped when he splits you open on his cock, when he sits you on his lap, when he sates your hunger by his own hand. He insists, even in the pubs, on feeding you bite after bite, thumb and forefinger grazing the roof of your mouth, spongy flesh begging him to press so hard his thumbprint sears to your skin.
At night, he finds your mouth on instinct. Slips right between your teeth and floats away on a twilight tide, like the sea singing a baby to sleep.
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sykloni · 3 months
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DP x Gravity Falls
8. Post Nasty Burger explosion
Welcome to the Gravity falls crossover I got way too into and am tempted to continue...
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shorthaltsjester · 3 months
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when people think delilah just completely takes over and laudna has no control. when people think jester is just an uwu child who has been manipulated by every man she’s met. when people think vex is an empty husk of daddy issues without her brother by her side. when people think fjord is an arrogant asshole who doesn’t pay attention to the party around him. when people think scanlan saying that vox machina doesn’t care about him is an accurate assessment.
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bottle-of-harpoons · 4 months
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Gotta love cuddling up in your rivals demon wings (no homo)
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littleskrib · 4 months
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"Say it again" "I'm Yours"
- | based on "Perfect Slaughter" by @imagineitdearies
reader discretion is advised, pls read the tags before checking it out
- You want to see WIPs, exclusive content and artworks earlier? Consider supporting me on Patreon ✨
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bluerosefox · 6 months
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Drake Siblings
Have I read this prompt somewhere or was this a fever dream from my bored mind.
What if, now hear me out.
What if we bring up Dana Winters-Drake (whose confirmed to at least be alive in the DC verse but no one knows where she actually is)
What if instead of when she had a mental breakdown and getting committed to an Bludhaven clinc she wandered away before anyone noticed and by the time Tim or anyone did notice a lot of stuff started happening at once in both Gotham and Bludhaven (Steph dying, The Bludhaven crisis, etc etc)
Tim still tries to find her though but even with best resources it was like she just disappeared into the wilderness and the stress of trying to handle more and more problems get worse.
So when out of the blue, a couple of years later, he gets a call from an unknown number. On his private, only for friends and family, phone and when he answers he meet with a young girls voice on the other end.
A very young, maybe six or seven, girl who informs him about his apparently half-brother Danny Drake-Fenton. And how she loves Danny so, so, so much but knows her home is dangerous for him to be in.
Tim is stunned and before he could question her, she says Danny is Dana and Jack's baby and that her parents had adopted him years ago and put Dana's stuff that the hospital had away for him to look at when he was older but she just had to fight off their lunch from eating her brother and she knows he needs a better place to live and so she snooped around and found Dana's diary and that she had to unscramble the nonsense Dana wrote and found Tim's number with the words 'tell him about his brother Danny' hidden in it. And-
But before she could keep rambling she hears Danny screaming "JAZZY THE MILK WENT BAD AGAIN AND HISSED AT ME!"
Tim is left with silence after hearing Jazz yell to Danny to lock the fridge and step out of the kitchen as she gets the bat.
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vimbry · 17 days
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oh she was Dead dead
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nadvs · 7 months
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cam girl (part eleven)
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
rating explicit 18+
content warning alcohol use
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summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.
» masterlist
*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*
Rafe has never had a hangover this bad. The sharp ache hammering against his temples is relentless.
He feels absolutely fucking finished. Last night, he passed out on whoever hosted the party’s floor, so not only is his head a mess, but his back is sore as fuck.
And the black eye doesn’t feel so good, either.
Even after last night’s aggravating argument with you and the embarrassing drunk texts he sent and this residual hangover from hell, when Rafe gets home in the late morning and finds you curled up in his bed, he feels better.
His head always does this when he’s around you. It’s like the whole world is nothing but fucking noise but with you, the loud turns quiet.
He still doesn’t know how you do that.
Rafe peels his clothes off, takes a hot shower, brushes his teeth and puts on new boxers… and he comes back to see you still passed out on his bed.
You must be exhausted. He feels the usual warm and incomprehensible buzz in his chest when he looks at you, even though he’s mad at you.
Rafe settles in his bed half-naked, slow not to wake you.
He’s half-asleep, fighting the ridiculous urge to turn around and hold you, when he feels you finally shift behind him. He turns to look at you and hates how his first thought is that you look pretty. He’s supposed to be pissed off at you.
He has no idea what the fuck happened last night. Why you made him feel like you’re sick of him all of a sudden.
“Crap,” you whisper as you sit up, realizing where you are and dropping eye contact with him immediately.
“Thought you needed a break from me,” Rafe mutters. “Why are you in my bed?”
He didn’t intend for his words to come out so sharp.
“I didn’t… mean to fall asleep.” You don’t even look at him. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”
You’re about to get out of his bed and Rafe is powerless to his impulses like he always is around you. His hand circles your wrist, pulling you back.
You drop to sit on the edge of the bed and he can tell you’re annoyed by the way you look up at the ceiling and sigh. He remains on his back, the pain radiating through him keeping him from sitting up.
“I have work to do,” you say, still refusing to meet his eyes.
“Did we go too long last night?” Rafe asks, needing to know why you’re so cold, why you’re done with him all of a sudden. “Is that why you’re being like this? That shit was your fucking idea.”
That stupid toy you got was what kept him from cumming for so damn long. He was fucking you for ages. Maybe it was much for you. He can’t think of what else could have compelled you to say you want a break.
“I’m obviously tired, Rafe,” you breathe. “In every possible way. Just let me…”
Your words fade into nothing once you look at him. He sees the same concerned expression you wore when you towelled the raindrops off of his face last night.
“What happened?” you ask, your voice soft.
He knows how rough he looks; he saw himself in the mirror this morning. His right eye is covered with an ugly purple splotch that spreads down to his cheekbone. Evidence of the fight he got into last night. He doesn’t want to think about it.
So, he resorts to what he does best and tries to suffocate the feeling with sex.
“You wanna make me feel better?” he asks suggestively, cocking his head. He hopes he has the effect on you that he usually does.
You’re motionless, your eyes still hard on his face. Okay. Now he’s fucking desperate.
“Please?”
Did he really just say that?
The corner of your lips curl up into a small smile. He’s embarrassed, but thank fuck you don’t look angry anymore.
“Are you… begging me?” you ask. Your voice is back to that playful tone he’s used to.
His hand is still curled around your wrist, tense that you’ll try to leave again.
“Come here,” he says.
“How bad do you want me?” you tease. He loathes when you fuck with him like this. But why does he kind of like it, too?
He only says your name in warning, even though he knows he doesn’t have the power here.
It’s so goddamn frustrating. He’s used to you doing what he wants. But after last night, after you mentioned a break, he realized he needs to feel needed by you. You’re the one actually in control here.
“I’m all you think about, right?” you goad him. “According to your text?”
Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. It’s humiliating how he typed out everything he was feeling last night.
“I was drunk,” he says defensively. Your smile drops and you start to twist your wrist out of his grip. Shit. Wrong thing to say. “But, yeah,” he adds. “You are.”
“You’re only saying that to get laid,” you murmur.
“I’m not,” he admits. He takes a breath. “All I do is… wait until the next time I can see you.”
Rafe’s not looking at you as he stammers his way through his words.
“That’s what you meant last night?” you ask him. He thinks back to the way he had you bent over the table, stupidly saying he’s the one who always has to wait.
He needs to fuck. Now. He can’t take this feelings shit.
Once he finally meets your eyes again, he’s relieved to see that your stare has softened. You turn to move towards him and his muscles immediately lose their tension.
You straddle him and the way your thighs box him in like this feels so fucking good that he forgets he’s hungover.
You start to grind against him and the thrilling promise of satisfaction washes over him, his boxers getting tighter as he gets harder.
“Does this help?” you whisper. He watches you through low lids, his hands on your thighs.
“Yeah, like that,” he groans. “Good girl.”
He slides his hands up to grip your waist and beckons you to lean over so he can kiss you, but you stiffen and reject the advance. Whatever. You must still be kind of pissed off, but he’s not about to stop what’s happening.
You sit up straighter and pull your dress up over your body, tossing it on the floor.
Rafe’s eyes hungrily trail down your body. Every time he sees your body or even just thinks about it, arousal burns through him.
He hates the feeling of you getting off of him, but once he realizes you’re taking off your panties and straddling him to fuck him in reverse cowgirl, his head feels like it’s spinning.
The sight of your bare ass perched on his pelvis is mind-blowing. He feels you pull down his boxers just enough to take his cock out, your hand running up and down his length.
You stroke him to get him fully erect, which barely takes any time. He gets hard for you in seconds.
When you lower onto him, he exhales in pure elation. You’re so wet and tight and soft and the moan you let out when you fill yourself with him is so fucking pretty.
You finally put all your weight on his hips, your hands stabilizing yourself on his knees. It’s heaven the way you squeeze him so damn tight.
You start to rock on him and his eyes drink in the way his cock is burying into you, the way your pussy looks stretched out like this.
Rafe looks over at the mirror mounted on his closet door to watch you arch your back and start to bounce on him. He doesn’t know which vantage point is hotter.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Look how fucking good you look.”
You meet his eyes in the mirror, your lips puckered as you hold back your moans. That look is for him only. He can’t stand the thought of you doing it for another man.
He watches you put your hand on your clit, touching yourself while you ride him. There’s something so fucking hot to him about how you know your body and how you shamelessly chase your own pleasure.
Rafe looks forward again, taking in the way your ass is bouncing on him, the way your back is curved, the way your cunt is clinging to his cock with every recoil.
He feels himself getting to the edge. He shuts his eyes in an attempt to delay it so you’ll get there first. Cumming will remind you of how good this arrangement between you is and you’ll forget this stupid ‘take a break’ idea.
You start to writhe even faster and breathe even quicker. He knows he’ll finish before you at this rate, so he buries his fingertips into your hips and holds you down to stop you from moving anymore.
“Why?” you whine, needy.
“Sit on my face,” he orders.
You lift your hips off of him, his cock popping out of you, glossed with your wetness. You obey and shift back on your knees.
You lower your core onto his mouth. Rafe fucking loves the way you taste. He puts his lips on you, rolling his tongue out over your velvet folds.
When he feels your hot mouth wrap around his cock, he exhales sharply. He sucks and licks you as he revels in the feeling of your tongue flicking up and down his length.
The way you’re pleasing each other at the same time makes his stomach tighten with something he’s still not used to. His body hasn’t ever reacted like this during sex, but it keeps doing this lately with you.
Rafe shoves away the thought.
He hooks his arm around you, dipping two fingers inside and curling them as he eats you out, eager to get you to cum.
Your breath is shaky, your hole tightening around his fingers. The way you looked at him when you told him you needed a break last night flashes through his mind again, pissing him off all over again.
“Nobody else can make you feel like this, hmm?” he mutters, his lips wet from you.
“Rafe…” Your voice is thin.
“Answer me.”
“No,” you tell him.
“And you want a break?” he huffs. “Do I need to fuck some sense into you?”
You’re silent, your mouth sliding up and down his cock, palming him. Frustration rises in him when you don’t answer. He needs the control. He needs to know how badly you want him.
“Do I?” he asks angrily, fingers slipping out of you to slap your ass. Your back arches at the impact, bucking up off of his face. “Do you need to watch me fuck you to get it through your head?”
Rafe pushes through the stiffness of his hangover to press against the backs of your thighs, forcing you to sit up.
“Get on your knees,” he says. “In front of the mirror.”
You groan out of irritation, but you listen to his instructions like the good girl he knows you are.
His eyes remain locked on you as you get up off of him and settle on all fours in front of the mirror on the floor, looking back at him with those beautiful eyes.
Rafe guides himself into you, finding bliss all over again. He lustfully looks at your reflection and sees the necklace he gave you hanging on your neck. It starts to swing as he thrusts into you, a reminder of how you belong to him.
Every plunge into you is fucking perfect. You squeeze his cock so nicely.
When you tighten around him, your breath hitched, he has no chance of stopping himself anymore - he cums at the same time as you, his moan tangling with yours.
Rafe can see stars as you tremble beneath him. He feels you take in everything he has to offer.
“Damn,” he says gruffly. He can’t stop himself from teasing you. “Sleeping and fucking on the clock. You’re looking to get fired.”
You let out a weak laugh and pull away from him. You stand to pick your uniform up off the floor, giving him another view of your hot, quivering body.
“Tell on me, then,” you challenge. You walk to his ensuite, shutting the door behind you. He’s sure that you know he’d never risk letting you get fired and losing this access to you.
Rafe’s heart is racing. How does every time he has sex with you feel better than the last?
He gets back into bed and pulls his cool comforter over his bare body, coming down from the high. He’s needs to figure out why the hell you’re retreating from him. And he’s determined to show you why you shouldn’t.
But with the hangover and lack of rest, Rafe falls asleep before you step back out into his room.
୨ᰔ୧
You couldn’t let Rafe kiss you. You’ll allow that sort of tenderness if, and only if, you’re more than a sex toy to him, and all signs point to that possibility being a big, ugly no.
When you step back into his bedroom to see that he fell asleep, you take a second, just a second, to look at him.
His lips are slightly pursed, his hair a tousled mess. The bruise on his swollen eye looks painful. You wish you knew what happened. You figure you’ll ask him tonight when he inevitably comes over.
As you make your way to the kitchen, the rush from the sex you just had starts to dissipate and you realize you shouldn’t have done it. You have heavy, unavoidable feelings for Rafe. You said you needed a break. Giving into the temptation was stupid.
But the way he was looking at you, holding your wrist… You couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull you seem to have for each other.
The self-destructive hope flares up as you think about what he said today. It rattled you. He thinks about you? He’s always waiting to see you again? It can’t all be sexual, can it?
You’re desperate to know what’s going through his mind.
You begrudgingly accept that because of the time you spent sleeping and having sex with Rafe, you’ll need to stay late to complete all your tasks today.
After finishing up your work in the kitchen an hour later, you head out to the backyard to throw out a few bags.
You give a polite smile to the gardener, who’s standing by the gazebo. Your mind flashes back to what happened when Rafe caught you talking to him.
Rafe’s possessiveness couldn’t possibly be purely sexual. Not after the way he looked at you once you reassured him he was the only man who could touch you.
You drop the bags in the bin and turn to head back inside, but get stopped in your tracks.
“You should be careful.”
You look up to realize the gardener is speaking to you. Your brows furrow in confusion.
“What?” you ask.
“I overheard him talking about you.“
“Sorry?” you repeat.
“The son. I heard him.” Anxiety fills your veins. He wouldn’t know Rafe’s name - he’s just the son of the millionaire you’re all working for.
He heard Rafe say something about you? You decide to play dumb. You have to. You could lose your job.
“What are you talking about?” you ask.
“He was with his friends out on the balcony a few days ago,” he says. “I was working and I heard him say that he’s… uh, nailing a maid.”
The word seems to make him uncomfortable. You’re so used to Rafe’s vulgarity that you forgot some people blush at a crude word.
Honestly, you expected Rafe to brag to his friends about fucking you. But you didn’t expect a coworker to hear.
You remember watching him through the window that day. Sending him that explicit video. Slowly developing feelings for him when you knew you shouldn’t.
“What, and you think it’s me?” you say with a laugh. Maybe there’s a chance you can convince him that Rafe was lying or that the conversation wasn’t about you.
“People have been talking… Apparently you got caught in the laundry room?” he says.
Shit. All that other maid saw was Rafe in the same room as you. That was it. You didn’t expect to make friends at this job, but this is ridiculous. Do they have nothing better to do but gossip?
You’ve been found out.
“Please don’t… say anything,” you finally say quietly. “I can’t lose this job.”
“I won’t. And I’m not judging,” he says, but he definitely is. You can see it in his expression. “Just wanted to tell you that I heard some… bad stuff.”
“What?” You cross your arms, feigning confidence.
“He told his friends that you’ll do anything he wants you to,” he says. “And that you never say no.”
“Okay,” you say. You’re trying to keep your gaze steady. This is humiliating. But it’s all true and not a surprise. You didn’t expect any better from Rafe.
“And one of them said something like… that’s the type of… um…” He looks nervous again.
“Just say it.”
“The type of… slut you run through then drop when she gets boring.”
This is what finally breaks you. You only nod, trying to seem unaffected.
“What did he say to that?” you ask. You hate that you have a little bit of hope that Rafe would defend you, show a shred of respect for you.
“They all just laughed.”
Your heart sinks.
Of course that’s what Rafe thinks of you. Of course to him, you’re just a whore that he’ll get tired of eventually. You shouldn’t have ever given him the power to disappoint you.
For fuck’s sake, you asked him point blank over text last night if all he wants to do is fuck and he replied with a clear YES.
“Okay,” you say, turning away before he can see the tears welling up in your eyes.
“Sorry. Thought you’d want to know,” he says to your back. “These rich guys are all assholes.”
“Yup,” you reply, walking away.
You don’t even give a fuck about your job anymore. It’d be better if you lost it so you don’t have to see Rafe ever again.
This is fucking agony. You feel so dehumanized.
When you make it home that evening, two hours later than usual, you type a text you mentally drafted on your drive home.
You open the conversation with one of your close friends from college and text her: hey, are there any parties tonight?
Getting drunk and partying is not a healthy way to cope, you know that, but you desperately need to get your mind off of things. Thankfully, your friend responds quickly about a party at a frat house on campus.
After you get ready, you take a cab to the address your friend sent you. It doesn’t take you long to find her and start downing shots.
Your phone buzzes, right on cue. It’s 10 pm, after all. He’s waiting for you on that depraved website where it all began. The text is blurry through your tipsy eyes.
Rafe: where are you?
You finally send him the message you’ve been toiling over, anger and disgust and embarrassment and sadness heavy on your chest.
You: i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i
{ read part twelve here }
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mirrorhouse · 15 days
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We, I think… gave you more drugs. Distorted it all in your mind. Fed you a truncated version.
INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE | 2.01 + 2.05
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chattematsu · 1 year
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[4.0 archon quest spoilers]
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mumblesplash · 9 months
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gem, what happened to your eye?
(wanted to upload this panel separately, original is from this comic)
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