#but though ive not listened to either of these in full in a while

[a9saga]

tbt - lil wayne - shooter // we're just gonna ignore the featured artist on this song okay

[soapsbaby]

Friends with Benefits

Kinktober IV

Summary: How a friends with benefits relationship would go with them. Characters: Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” Mactavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, John Price, König, Alejandro Vargas, Rudy Vargas, Valeria Garza, all x gn!reader Rating: NSFW (mdni) Word Count: 1200ish

Ghost

In the beginning it was a lot more “benefits” than it was “friends”. He had a lot of issues to let you in any further than just sleeping with you. 

You were an outlet for frustration and he was entirely honest about that and made sure you didn't feel used or led on.

It took a while but eventually you were able to spend the night, he started calling you when he needed company and eventually he even opened up to you a little and you finally got to understand why he acts the way he does.

He’s a very attentive lover and now that he has a closer bond with you, also an incredible friend. He is always there to listen, even if he often doesn’t know what advice to give you.

Often calls you over late at night or right after returning from missions, just needing a way to blow off steam. He tends to be a little rough with you, but only with your consent.

He isn’t interested in any relationship or attachments so he is quite happy with your arrangement. 

Soap

You and Johnny had been friends for super long before you eventually got closer to him. It was just supposed to be a sleepover so you could binge some horror movies together, but at some point his hand had ended up on your thighs, then you had ended up in his lap and the moment you started kissing you both knew it was over. 

Except for having sex not much has changed between the two of you, most of your hookups still happen during movie nights or other friendship hangouts that you would have had before starting to sleep together.

It’s becoming a problem when people start asking questions since neither of you pay any attention to the movies you’re supposed to be watching. “Oh, you watched (...) on the weekend, right?? How was it?” “Uh… Good… I think.” 

You are so casual and comfortable with each other that there was never really a phase of awkwardness between you two, it just felt natural. 

He honestly doesn't care if anyone finds out, is the type to pull you into a supply closet for a quickie.

Price

You are both very happy with the arrangement, even though except for missing full commitment you are basically in a relationship. 

He will always make sure you know you are taken care of and that you know how much he appreciates you, take you out for dinner or cook for you, get you gifts. 

Compared to the others, your relationship is a little more mature and less impulsive, you had been friends for a long while, tried to date but didn’t quite work out. Still, you both had to admit you enjoyed having sex with one another, so you just decided to go back to that part. 

He’ll check in with you often to make sure you are still happy with the situation and it is understood that if either of you ever find a serious relationship you’ll have to stop.

He likes to make sure he has his time with you, whenever you have a "date" he wants to have the whole day off.

Gaz

It was supposed to be just a friends with benefits situation but failed almost immediately. You both tried so hard to keep it casual but it was a lost cause from the first time. 

Gaz used to have hookups quite often when off duty, but now that he has you, he doesn’t really want or need that anymore. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, let alone you, but he’s kind of obsessed with you.

At this point you are spending so much time at each other’s places that you might as well move in, but both of you are afraid to suggest taking the next step because that is not what we agreed on.

He is so sweet, always taking his time with you, making sure you are the priority and that you feel well taken care of.

So good at giving oral.

König

You’re one of the few people from his past that he is still in contact with and though you don’t get to see him often, it’s a good time whenever you do.

It’s good for him to have someone from his childhood that can give him a reality check and make sure he doesn’t forget where he came from when he needs it.

He isn’t the best at communicating, which your situation requires a lot of, so you run into problems at times. You don’t see each other often, most of the time there is a lot of distance dividing you, plus the time zones, so there is a lot to be navigated.

He likes and appreciates you a lot though, so you make it work somehow.

Most of the time he is super gentle with you and will do whatever it takes to make sure you finish first, however there have been situations where he just needed to use you to get some negative emotions out of his system after a failed mission.

Alejandro 

He always said he wasn’t one for casual sex, that he was made for relationships, but he had to learn that that just isn’t fully true. Once you and him started sleeping together he had to realize how convenient it was to have someone to help him have his needs met without the responsibilities that come with actual relationships.

He’s a great lover, extremely attentive, very loving, and skillful at what he does. He’d never be selfish and only get himself off.

Rudy

You have been friends with benefits for as long as you can remember, so the communication between the two of you is great since you just know each other so well.

It started when you were joking around with him after a bad date how dating around wasn't worth it just to have mediocre sex with people you barey liked and he got competetive about it.

"Bet I could do better." (He in fact could and did do better)

You don’t sleep with each other that often, just once every few months when you both feel like it. Most of the time when you hang out, things stay strictly platonic, that is just the way things work out for you.

Valeria

She doesn’t have many friends that she can actually trust, so she was terrified to push your relationship any further than a friendship. She didn’t want to risk losing you, one of the few people who knew her before the army, before the cartel. 

Still, one thing led to another and she’d never want to go back to before. She knows you might not fully support her work in the cartel, but that you still feel nothing but loyalty for her.

She doesn’t have time for an actual relationship and also wouldn’t want to put someone in danger of getting caught up in the crossfire of cartel dealings, so you being fairly low-commitment for her is ideal.

She can be a bit of a selfish lover, but you adore pleasuring her, so it all works out in the end.

[rizzkisworld]

Sentiments - Nishimura Riki

Pairing: bf! Niki x fem! Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

author's note: me re-entering my uploading era 🤩 plz reblog/give feedback if you like this because it really helps writers continue and motivates them tyvm!

Your smile brought so much happiness to Riki's life. Whenever he was sad, he'd look at you. The way his emotions did a full 180 real quick. He doesn't know what it is about your smile. Maybe it's because you look so happy and pretty. All he knows is that it makes him want to do whatever he can to make you smile. He starts acting extra goofy around you, he starts giving you random kisses to see the way you get shy and look away (as if your cuteness doesn't make him feel shy sometimes-), he gives you random hugs to see you smile. He even tickles you sometimes even though you scold him about it afterwards.... lovingly though of course.

Cuddling with you is how he wants to spend the rest of his life. Having his arms around you or you having your arms around him. The position doesn't matter as long as he's with you. However, he does love it when you bury your face in his neck or chest. The way you feel safe when you're in that special spot. It makes him want to protect you because you're so precious to him. He definitely is a huge fan of back hugging you of course. He gets to kiss your neck, whisper sweet nothings in your ear, and rest his face in the crook of your neck. You can expect him to cuddle and hug you whenever he's with you, cause Riki don't play about his cuddles.

Pictures of you on his phone are his favorites. Everytime he scrolls through his gallery, all he sees is pictures of you. Some are secret pictures he took of you because you're so attractive to him no matter what. He has you as his lock screen to be honest. You're his model and he's the photographer.

The moments when you cry, though it hurts him (unless they're tears of joy), it makes him happy that you feel comfortable enough to share your emotions with him. He always wants you to feel your best and he'll do whatever he can to make you happy. But when you're having one of those days, no matter what the reason may be, he's always there to listen, to care for you, to help you any way he can. These are the moments his maturity really shows. He just loves you so much! (I need a Niki so bad rn 😔)

Play fighting with you is a must! You guys take it real seriously. There's three ways your fights usually go. One, he's the one winning, though you're doing your absolute best to fight him off meanwhile he's just smiling at you and admiring your beauty all while you're desperately trying to win the fight. Two, he's winning, but starts feeling bad that you're losing and boom, he either lets you win or it switches to you guys making out. Three, you're winning, not sure if he's letting you win or you just really snuck him, but either way it's good(Ive reference anyone?)

Late night walks and talks are your favorite! You already told him everything and vice versa, yet you still find something to talk about together. At this point it's nonsense and gibberish that only you two understand. You definitely get midnight snacks and meals. All of this is really just to say that Riki loves you a lot and shares so many sentiments with you.

Again it's greatly appreciated if you reblog this if you enjoyed! It helps put writers works out there and it encourages us to put more content out there~~

[ellieslaces]

DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED.

part I ; part II ; part III ; part IV

featuring: prince!leon x princess!reader (royalty au)

synopsis: the Crown Prince, Leon, had never desired to marry, but obviously the decision was never up to him. his mind is slowly, and ultimately changed when he meets you, his betrothed

content warnings: harsh language; mentioned violence; strangers to lovers; mutual pining; little angst; misogynistic themes; eventual smut (more detail in later chapters)

notes: royalty au; Leon is an Italian Prince; user is British/English; some old English dialect; misogynistic themes bc this is based on old views of royal women’s only purpose to bare children; Leon’s family’s palace is based on Palazzo Ducale in Venice

word count: 2.83k

chloe talks: yeah ok, I caved. a royalty au has been on my mind for a little bit and while listening to Dancing With Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift on the way to my endocrinologist appointment today, I had to write this. this is partially inspired by a bot on c.ai by wesker420 and another royalty au fic on here by @hispg so I don’t take full credit for the idea. but anyways, enjoy

playlist

Leon had never desired to marry, he never believed a happy marriage was in the cards for him. Especially when his mother and father were the only example set for him all his life. He was content with a life of politics — council and war meetings, endless nights spent in local taverns, his bed warmed by women who didn’t mean anything to him. Until he met you.

You were a princess from the North, a born and bred English noblewoman. And you were terribly single and of marrying age. Your country and Leon’s country were in dire need of allies, so naturally you were introduced to each other as betroths.

Of course, this was far from an easy process for either one of you. Leon did not wish to marry at all, and you wished to marry for love, not convenience. This was a damning future for the both of you.

And it only became increasingly worse as your marriage date was pushed closer — a fortnight away now. Your family traveled to Leon’s castle, staying there for the next two weeks. Your family was set to leave the night of the wedding, leaving you completely alone with a man you were forced to spend the rest of your life with and his family.

This arrangement was far from ideal for you. You knew next to nothing of the Crown Prince. And he knew nothing of you either. It was an unfortunate affair — two young nobles who could have anyone or anything now tied down to each other by pressing expectations. It was truly a tragedy.

It became increasingly apparent to Leon that you were miserable in this arrangement the day you arrived a fortnight before the wedding ceremony. He and his family greeted your family in the throne room — much more lavish and beautiful than your own at home — and he could so clearly see how dismayed you were.

Hell, he couldn’t blame you. A young woman, beautiful and intelligent, brought up with the best opportunities available to her was now being sold off as a piece of property. All for peace among nations. Leon supposed he could complain, but he was a man. He wasn’t tied down by the duties of being a wife as you would be. He felt bad for you — even if some small part of him resented you for this sickening arrangement.

Soon enough, you were carted off to your chambers where you would reside until the night of the wedding ceremony. Your mother tried her best to console you, saying it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. It was futile though, you were set to be miserable. To be resentful of how your parents could sell you off to the highest bidder for a bit of political gain.

Though, the palace grounds were beautiful. High ceilings covered in extravagant artwork, glass windows, the grand canal right outside the Eastern side of the palace. There was much to explore in the two weeks you’d spend there — or the rest of your life.

You spent the first week of your stay exploring the castle. Looking at the array of artwork, the different rooms. You did this mostly alone, your mother would occasionally join when she was not required to sit through perilously long political meetings. When she was not able to join you, your handmaiden — and best companion — Maria, would walk with you.

Always a few paces behind to keep up appropriate appearances. Though, Maira more than often would end up walking beside you.

In fact, it was three days after your initial arrival that Leon saw you for the first time, alone. You had decided to take advantage of the pleasant Italian spring day and explore the West gardens. Maria was walking beside you grinning, hands folded in front of her as she informed you of the latest gossip among the grand palace’s servants.

That was also the first time Leon had ever heard you laugh. You had a gloved hand covering your mouth, the sudden sound of your lilting laughter causing him to immediately stand as you rounded a corner of the hedges.

Leon has simply come outside to study a leather bound book of political speeches his father had written, sitting on the bench to also enjoy the weather. At the sudden sight of the prince, Maria stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and bent at the waist in a bow.

Maria’s sudden prostrate position caused you to pause as well, dropping your hand and looking up at the prince — your betrothed.

You as well, curtsied, face ground-ward as your smile fell in an instant. “Your highness.”

Leon almost smiled then, at the sight of your sudden respect and change of attitude. He bowed his own head as you straightened, offering the same sign of respect. “Princess. I hope you are enjoying the grounds.”

“Yes, your highness, I am. Thank you.” You nodded, your eyes hesitant to look in his direction. It didn’t go amiss to Leon that your cheeks had been painted in a pink tint as well.

“Good,” he nodded, at a loss for what else to say. His eyes darted to Maria, your handmaiden who had righted herself and taken a few steps back. He nodded to her as well, offering a kind smile.

This was the first time you’d felt any form of warmth for the prince. His subtle kindness to your handmaiden, whom any other noble would dutifully ignore. It brought a small smile to your lips, eyes finally meeting his as he looked at you.

“What are you reading?” You questioned, eyes flicking to the leather bound book in Leon’s hands. An awkward attempt to be polite.

“Just some political notes my father wrote up for me to review. He has been pushing me to be more involved as of late, my future quickly approaching as he likes to say.” Leon’s head tilted to the side, motioning to the book.

To his surprise, your interest had seemed to pique. “Anything interesting?” You asked, voice soft yet filled with an element of excitement. A princess interested in politics was not something the prince had ever come across.

“Not particularly, just some civilian requests and meeting reviews.” He shrugged, seeming bored. However, you seemed anything but.

“I see.” You stepped forward a bit, seeming to be a bit hesitant but foraging on nonetheless. “I do hope I am not being forward, but, I wonder if you would mind informing me of anything you hear in the meetings.”

Leon frowned at this. “You are not invited to meetings?” He didn’t realize you may not have a place in the political side of royalty.

You shook your head, a small look of annoyance gracing over your gentle features. “No, my father says it isn’t a princess’ place. He believes I am far too delicate for such heavy matters.”

Leon could tell how much it annoyed you, despite the fact that you never explicitly said it did. He frowned, nodding to himself.

He looked back up at you — his lips pulled into a devastating smirk that nearly took your breath away. “Well, princess, you have my word. I will inform you of anything I hear from future meetings.”

You hadn’t expected him to actually agree. Most men would have said you were being silly and had no need to hear such trivial matters. It made that prior spark of warmth blossom into a small flame in your chest.

He was kind. Not just handsome — horribly so, which you and Maria agreed upon — but he had a good heart. No matter his seemingly rough exterior, you could see the prince meant well.

“Well, thank you, your highness. I deeply appreciate it.” You smiled, that pink tint on your cheeks ever present as the prince stepped forward to you.

“Of course, princess. If there is anything I can do to make your stay any more pleasant, please do let me know. We are going to be married, are we not?” He offered with a half smirk, bowing his head again.

“Thank you, your highness.” Your own lips pulled into a small smile as Leon gently gripped your gloved hand, pressing his lips to the back of it with a whisper of a kiss. He smiled again, dropping your hand and walking away, through the hedges of the gardens.

He was kind, you’d somewhat expected that, but you hadn’t expected him to be so romantic. At least, that’s how you would put it. You’d met your fair share of suitors, each appealing in their own way. But none had ever offered you the kindness or grace Leon had. It was dizzying.

And those dizzying thoughts plagued you always. The kindness in his eyes, his devastating smirk, his gentle voice — it all stayed in your mind. Never leaving you a moment to breathe. Maybe, he wasn’t so bad. It was entirely possible that you wouldn’t be miserable here. However, you decided to make that decision upon whether or not Leon kept his promise.

And to your surprise, he had. Two days later, you awoke in the late morning to a small stack of parchment on your nightstand. The top sheet displaying your name in what could only be Leon’s swirling handwriting.

You’d laid in bed for two hours that morning to read through the notes of every meeting for the past week that you’d been there, missing breakfast. It wasn’t in Leon’s hand script, but in a neater script. The official royal note taker, you assumed. But it was all so interesting.

Never had you been informed of any such political activity before, unless it was pressing or dangerous. It was a refreshing feeling to be informed. To know things like anyone else.

You’d read over the papers, soaking in each word until your eyes hurt. Until you committed each event listed and discussed to memory. In sudden realization of how kind the act truly was, you racked your brain for a way to thank Leon. It was possible he could be punished for this, you didn’t know exactly how confidential this information was.

It wasn’t until dinner the following night after you’d received the papers that you saw the prince again. You had been seated beside him for the first time — probably due to visiting political figures. It was quiet between the two of you, a bit awkward, because what were you supposed to say? The men were all conversing about the situation in the West, Leon looking bored and not caring much to weigh in. So you took your chance.

“I wanted to thank you for the notes.” You spoke up, quiet as only Leon could hear you as you pushed the food on your plate around.

The prince paused, his glass raised to his lips as he sipped the maroon wine. “I trust you enjoyed them?”

“Very much. Thank you, it means a lot to me you did that.” You looked at Leon as he set his wine glass down, offering him a smile to display how much you truly did appreciate the kindness.

“Of course, princess. I am just glad to offer you some solace here. Whether it be politics or roses.” He joked, blue eyes glimmering in the bright candlelit dining hall.

You set down your fork, sipping from your own glass before looking at him again. “I do hope I did not get you into any trouble.”

“No. And even if you did, it would be worth it. So long as you are happy here.” Again, the prince’s kindness was overwhelming. You smiled, cheeks tinged pink again.

“You flush a lot. Is this normal for you, or is it just me?” The prince questioned with a teasing lilt.

A small laugh fell from your lips, shaking your head. “I am afraid it is just you.” You nodded to him, head tilted to the side.

The prince offered you another smile, sipping from his glass before his father began to speak to him, in a way forcing him to engage in conversation. For the first time in your life, you could listen to a discussion of political issues and know what was happening. And it was all thanks to a kind prince.

You sat through the dinner, a small smile taking permanent residence on your pink lips. Eyes sparkling with quiet knowledge.

It was then Leon realized he liked your smile. And it was then you realized you could fall in love with Leon.

2023 ellieslaces please do not repost, rewrite, translate, or submit my work to AI or any other platform. please support your creators by reblogging, liking, and following!

how you can support Palestine! 🇵🇸

[crushedsweets]

Do you have any headcanons of Lyra and Toby’s relationship?

this has been in my inbox for like over a week by now because this is a big task in my head. i will focus more on the family itself, but obviously the siblings r there.

ROGERS FAMILY HCS UNDER THE CUT... tw for abuse and addiction, of course

ok. WE'RE GETTING PERSONAL HERE. im the eldest daughter of 3 so the way in which i project into older siblings is insane. ive also had an addict father(no where near like frank though let me clarify) so in general . . the story.. makes me feel very...... basically their relationship is very personal to me.

lyra is about 2-3 years older than toby.

frank's dad was in the vietnam war, his grandparents were in wwii, his grandparents in wwi, etc. so he went into military service right after marrying connie. for a long while, he was SUPER military strict. those kids were up, made their bed, and down for chores by 6am everyday. he made them do military time rather than civilian time. he was incredibly traditional, expected a perfectly clean household, a polite soft daughter, a strong bold son, perfect wife. he wanted the 1950s nuclear family model. so toby and lyra grew up in a very clean, strict, traditional household.

in my au, frank wasnt outright abusive until the kids were around 8-11. it was after he developed his addictions and lost his job. the kids really didnt understand what was changing at first, and legitimately were like 'omg dad isnt making us wake up at 5am everyday..... this is so cool'.

theyd start having sleepovers in eachothers room, slacking a bit on chores, going to sleep late, sleeping in. toby didnt develop his tourettes until he was around 7, so lyra and toby would walk home from their elementary school together. sometimes, theyd walk another friend home first, stop at convenience stores to get candy, pet a cat, etc. frank didnt say a thing for the first few months, just drunken grumbles along connies worried 'WHERE HAVE U BEEN'. if they weren't walking around the area, they were in the backyard playing soccer.

eventually the abuse began, and all of those little freedoms were quickly stripped from the kids.

toby developing tourrettes around this time was a painful coincidence, because not only did he experience abuse at home, but awful bullying at school. he was promptly pulled out after completing 3rd grade. he was only 8.

lyra would practically run home from school everyday, as fast as a 12 year old girl with a backpack could manage, just because she spent all 7 hours in school worrying about toby at home. connie had to start working to pay bills, so..

when toby was around 11 and lyra was around 13, toby started kinda just. being more distant. he was kind of a dick to lyra for a period of time, half because of everything he was going through, half because puberty is rough. his room started getting messy, lyra had to start picking up chores he was slacking on , etc. lyra isnt perfect and began to resent toby for this, and eventually, the two were kinda at eachothers throats for like 6 months. which isnt a lot, but for kids, its an eternity.

when franks abuse evolved from ''just'' verbal abuse, to shoves, to slaps, to full on beatings, toby started egging frank on. just to get him off of lyra and connie. obviously he couldnt feel it, and while it sure took a fucking mental toll, it was so much easier to just wait it out rather than listen to the girls cry.

lyra didnt even realize toby was doing this for a while, she just thought it was all part of him going through his little hormonal asshole phase, until one day frank made a fucked up comment about 'youre lucky that boy is always causing trouble. was supposed to be you'. then it kinda clicked and she very quickly tried to fix their relationship back to what it was.

frank eventually scared connie so badly that there'd be periods of time where she'd take the kids in the middle of the night, and run off to either her parents place, or even a random hotel in another city. she'd use cash, force the kids to keep their phones at home, leave literally everything behind and often make the kids pick out new toothbrushes at a random walmart. etc. it would only last a few days each time, and lyra fought so hard to stay strong while her mom cried and toby closed himself off.

she'd try to get toby to come to the hotel pools with her, try to get him to watch tv with her, try to get him to just fucking talk to her. he was often catatonic during these little runaways, once the confusion adrenaline and fear wore off

it wasnt until they went around a month without seeing their father, and frank had some weird fucking. 'those are MY kids too' thing and went to connie's parents house while all the adults were out, and forced the kids back home. this was the first time lyra was full on sobbing and begging and pleading in years. that was what shifted something in toby, too.

now tobys 13, lyras 15, and theyre on better footing. theyre starting to understand eachother. tobys back on keeping up with chores, knowing that either him lyra or connie was going to get beat if they were missed. sometimes he'd just silently come into lyras room and lay down and watch tv with her. they'd talk about books, about school, their trust was built right back up and toby ended up being the first to know about lyras school drama, gossip, boys, etc.

toby wasn't really socialized properly, since he's been homeschooled for 6 years by now. all the time, he'd hear lyras stories, and wish he could go to school. his mom would be horrified anytime toby asked, because all she could remember was her sweet boy coming home and crying into her arms after a day of being mocked and pushed around by peers.

so he began to live through lyra, in a sense ? he almost became a diary for lyra, and he kinda loved it. she was like a sitcom to him.

frank wasnt a good father by any means during this period, he was still awful, but he wasn't constantly looking for trouble. the kids kept to themselves, connie did everything she was expected to, he didnt give a shit about their grades or social lives. he couldn't even recgonize when lyra was coming home late.

lyra got her license the second she turned 16. the house had two cars, and its not like frank was ever going anywhere, so she was always going everywhere. she adored the freedom, and took toby wherever he'd let her. he only really left the house if he was going grocery shopping with his mom or something, so it was kinda weird now that he was just. going to malls. going to restaurants. going to parks. just Hanging Out. every now and again he'd stick around when Lyra was with her friends, but he didn't like them so it was rare.

sometimes theyd just drive together for a long time. at night, she was the one to take him to every hospital visit, she even got him to volunteer at a pet shelter she worked at for a bit. 3 years and they become so close again, and lyra is tobys best friend. she's his entire world because who else does he have ? he loves his mom, but she's married to the man he hates more than anything

toby was 16 and lyra was 18 when frank strangled toby till he passed out. thats finally when connie kicked frank out, forcing frank to go live on his moms couch. lyra was mortified and started spending an absurd amount of time with toby. she took online community college courses just so she could spend even more time with toby, and it didnt hurt to do so since frank wasnt there anymore. things were getting better for the family, frank was gone, lyra was in college, connie was working, toby was volunteering at shelters and even had a few acquaintances he'd talk to now and again.

lyra picked toby up from the shelter he volunteered at when the accident happened.

lyra and connie had matching silver necklaces with a circle pendant that had their initials. toby didnt cuz frank would get pissed if toby tried wearing jewelry, but when lyra died, toby immediately clung to it. he wears it religiously. the only time he takes it off is if he knows he's going to kill someone that day. otherwise, its always on him.

lyra died and was buried in colorado. toby lives in alabama now. so he really doesnt visit her grave often. only on her birthday, he'll scramble together some money and get brian, tim, and kate to agree to cover his uh. 'shifts' with slenderman, and take a few loooonnnggg train rides over to colorado.

he'll leave two bouquets of flowers. one for lyra, one for connie.

connie just feels in her heart that its toby. she has no reason to believe it, they've never bumped into eachother (toby's visiting at like 2am and falls asleep near the grave for a few hours), but she knows nobody else whos visiting lyras grave and leaving two sets of the same flowers.

toby and lyras childhood home was put on sale shortly after it was reconstructed from the fire, and connie moved in with her sister. lyras bedroom door was the only one that was shut and left unscathed after the fire (legitimately keep your doors shut if you ever have a housefire it can save entire bedrooms and even lives). the rest of the house was ruined, but not lyras room. connie kept every single one of her belongings, but she's put some photos out on the grave. tobys taken them, and connie believes it was him. again, she has no reason to believe it other than the flowers and 'why would someone take a photo of my dead daughter.'

anyway hi. in tears. i love them. sorry. i just retell their story over and over and get sad everytime

[gryphis-eyes]

⊙ Message from spirits

⊙ Welcome to this very simple but (I hope) useful pick a card, I know its been a while and here is my last attempt to get back to tumblr haha.I don’t have more to say , hope you’ll get the message that will light the fire in your !

⊙ How to pick a pile ? There are differents ways to do it, you can do a little meditation while thinking about the 3 images, you can also use a pendulum, remember to listen to your intuition while chosing and reading the messages those are general reading so not everything will be for you or it will ask you to interpret it based on your situation

◇ Deck used : Rider Waite, Shakespeare Oracle, Phenix Oracle

⊙ Pile 1 : The Cat

Cards ; 3 of cups, 6 of swords R " Tis true. The wheel is come full circle; I am here. ”

One day things go up and one day things go down, such is the nature of Fortuna’s actions. The cards are showing me those 3 muses singing with their cups full of sweet beverage while on the other side of the reading someone is struggling on their boat, going against this raging river’s flow. Some of you seems to be tired of life, you're always fighting, barely resting while other people seems to roam freely through life. Its not fair isn’t it ? I feel like the main issue here is that you're going through a though period and it affect your mental a lot, so of course our brain’s first move is to look at others and be like ”damn look at them, so happy and relaxed while im in this burning house”. Do not throw yourself heartlessly into this path which seems to be the only one, do not look at other, look at you. You might be afraid to do a specific thing (new project ?) Because others seems to do it better or the idea you got already have been done but listen to me ; nobody is doing things better than someone else, succes doesn’t mean its better it just mean it touch more people but it doesn’t mean it is made of quality. That’s why we always got people talking about underated movies, music etc, nothing is better, things are just different. What matter isn’t how amazing you'll do but rather how you will do it because you are not anyone else’s mind, look at the story of the hero with a thousand faces it has been done so so many times in fictions but people dont always realise it, why ? Because all of those fictions have been done by different people so that’s why lord of the ring is so different from star wars. To be honest I was thinking about telling you to go slower but the phenix cards are really telling you to move and just do it ! Be serious about this project wether it mean actually writing a story and publishing it or starting writing it, you got nothing to lose.

⊙ Pile 2 : The Owl

Cards ; 3 of swords R, hangedman ” for there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.To me it is a prison. ”

Ive heard ”a haunted heart” part from on the fence by tv girl in mind while reading your cards. I have no contexte about what happened to you but I can tell that it was a wild ride isn t it ? Sit down my dear its time to rest and listen. Whatever happened didnt happen out of the ”univers” cruelty or a ”blessing in disguise” what happened felt like an attack toward you (from your pov) wether its truly the case or not I dont know but I truly think the cards are reminding you to focus on the present since they are hiding the past from me. Do not search for the why, do not search for a blessing coming from it, what was good what was bad do not try to listen to thousand of readers who will tell you how to act (I mostly got those ”forgiveness” speech that every new ager are repeating). You dont need to focus on that past thing you need to focus on yourself and your needs from the present, not the needs you had 5 month ago. You should let your life calm down, put less effort in the world and put more effort for yourself wether its forcing you to have a self care moment or allowing yourself to have a lazy day or just sit down and do nothing but listen to music. The lyrics from ”after the storm” it carry the whole message im trying to give you. Basically, yes what happened suck but its not an excuse to give up on yourself.

⊙ Pile 3 ; The Snake

The lover, 3 of swords R

" The enemy increaseth every day; We, at the height, are ready to decline.There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat; And we must take the current when it serves, Or lose our ventures. "

It's time to risk it all my friend. I have no idea if It's a project, a ritual/spell (I get that most of you are into witchcraft or spiritual thing). See this snake going for the butterfly even if It's small and can avoid the snake’s strike easily, the reptile still go for it. It even look like the snake is using the obstacle in order to jump higher to catch the butterfly. (Idk why I get that you should try to watch samurai champloo). The advice here, is to look at everything that went bad or didn’t work in the past and ask yourself ”why” so now you'll be able to make your action more effective because you have grown a lot since the last time you try that thing or something similar. I feel a big burst of energy so its like everything is here, you just have to act. Like the snake, do not chase your goal or just walk around it until you saw the opportunity. Just go in front of it and strike ! With the Lover I see that this thing is dear to your heart or will light the fire in yourself again. You can do it, you have the power to do so, you can only gain good thing from this situation that will (above of making you happy) will heal something in yourself.

⊙

[sunnycanvas]

Saladin x Fem!Reader x Baldwin IV Smut part 1

It was a dark chilly night in the kingdom of Jerusalem. Not that had been suprising though considering Jerusalem was practically desert but tonight you felt as if it was extra chilly night though. You had come to accompany Baldwin iv in his crusade against Saladin. You loved and admired your king but you couldn't help your attraction towards your rival king Saladin. Both kings were aware of their affection for you and felt the same

As you entered the tent you could see Baldwin IV glaring at you mixed with pity. You couldn't tell why but he looked both jealous and disturbed. Had you done something? Your thoughts were interrupted when salahuddin suddenly called your name

(Y/N)

You could see the young king looking at salahuddin with pure hatred. Never had you seen such hatred in his eyes. Baldwin IV didn't ever seem to hate Saladin. Perhaps you were incorrect in reading him

Your thoughts were interrupted again when salahuddin called your name

"Listen (Y/N) both me and the king know that we loved each" Saladin said with low voice. Anger almost visible in his voice, keyword almost. You noticed looking down playing with sand

"We also noticed that you also love us" Baldwin IV after hearing this clenched his fist with sand inside it.

"Look at me" Saladin commanded. Hearing this you got scared at looked at salahuddin

"Ever since you have come you keep staring at him"

Baldwin IV smirked at Saladin with eyes full of hatred and said "Perhaps because she loves me instead and she is confusing her admiration for you for love" Saladin looked ready to pounce at him but restraint at last moment and said "As much as it hurts for me to say this to you and we both know that this isn't true" "This why we came to agreement"

You looked at Saladin confused while Baldwin IV simply glared at him and said "Your plan is absurd, there is no way we are agreeing to this" Saladin offended replied "You know that this will be only way we will know for sure who she loves more, we are running out of time"

"What are you talking about" you asked confused. Baldwin IV continued giving you same expression while Saladin with controlled anger said "That since we both love you and have done everything to win your love we have thought of different solution to get your love, that is we have decided that we will see who pleases you more in bed based on that we can put an end to this love triangle"

You done beet red hearing while Baldwin iv exclaimed "This is ridiculous, I will never agree to this. Nor will (Y/N)"

"As much it hurts me as well this is the only way"

Saladin looked at you as said "Crawl towards me like a cat".

You gulped and did what he said, Baldwin iv noticing you submitting to his request and almost reaching him, grabbed your other hand and tried bringing him to you by your wrist. Saladin not backing down without a fight. Grabbed your other wrist. You gulped looking at both men noticing each of them giving you intense look. This is going to be a tough decision. You surely didn't want to lose either of them.

[dukeoftears]

IVE NEVER CONSIDERED PAPYKAARD BEFORE THAT SOUNDS SO CUTE... actually now im curious what are some of your thoughts on rouxls ships/what his relationship experience is like

OhohoHOHO you have come to the right place!! I love rouxls ships here I will list every one I like and why I like it :3

Kingkaard: This can be two things, either King is a doofus dumbass who is annoyed at himself for falling in love with his servant while Rouxls is a self righteous dumbass and it's goofy shenanigans, or... you have the darker, more toxic variant that isn't cute or romantic (and SHOULD NOT BE ROMANTICISED PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK). I like both a lot, I usually go with the second because it gives my Rouxls a nice backstory (and also gives me an excuse to project my own past traumas) (I mainly do it to project) but with the sheer number of proshitters who romanticise it... :/ goddamn I hate when people romanticise ab*se. There is nothing cute about it. I remember I found a Kingkaard fic with that dynamic that represented what I went though so well that I had to take a break from my phone for a while. And the comments? Full of proshitters who found it "deliciously painful and want king to break him blah blah" :/ goddamn that made me take a second break

Getting off my high horse now, this post isn't where I rant abt proshippers or traumadump

Queenkaard: I LOVE THIS ONE SOO MUCH HEHE it's technically m/f in canon but I like hcing Queen as a genderfuck sapphillean and Rouxls as gay so it's achillean in my thoughts anyways X) Queen would take every opportunity to fluster Rouxls and would be genuinely touched with the gifts he gives her as a sign of his affection

oh yeah side note: Rouxls' love languages would definitely be gift giving and verbal affection :3

METTAKAARD: Two trans gay men who KNOW they're beautiful in love??????? I cannot explain how much I ADORE Mettakaard it is my FAVORITE SHIP OF ALL TIME... on one hand they are both so goddamn flirtatious with each other but then on the other you have them comforting each other as they show their flaws to nobody but each other.... oughfhfhf <3

Papykaard: TWO GOOFY PUZZLE BOYOS WHO COOK TOGETHER I feel like this is great in both the qpr and the romantic way, Papyrus would definitely decide to tutor Rouxls with puzzles and from there, Pap falls first but Rouxls falls harder <3 Papyrus would listen to Rouxls rant for ages and the same vice versa and they would cook together, and Rouxls feels so safe around Papyrus because Papyrus doesn't care about rank, or status, or how clumsy and dumb he is, Papyrus loves him for who he is and he doesn't have to pretend to be something he isn't anymore... Honorary mention to Swap Papykaard where you have swap papyrus and rouxls, I started this in a rp with my friend who writes swap papyrus and we actually found it has a really cute dynamic <3 Rouxls would definitely look after Paps when he doesn't feel the will to get out of bed, and swap pap would always listen to his infodumps and it's just CUTE

PAPYMETTAKAARD I love polycules and here you have PAPYKAARD AND METTAKAARD AND PAPYTON AT THE SAME TIME?!?!!! Sign me up!!

Swatchkaard: "I hate you" "I loveth thee too <3"

Those are the main rouxls ships I like, but a few honorary mentions: Seamkaard can be cute with the right dynamic, I like them as qprs especially :) Jevkaard / Nosuit can be silly and fun too, I don't actively ship it but I do enjoy the ship

[girlmeetsworldismyeverything]

what do you think of the whole maya having «turned in to» riley thing?? do u think there is truth in that, or do you think she just changed on her own and people started implying that her growth was just the copycat effect of being around riley so much?? ive never really been sure what i think of that whole thing!?! i feel like it might be a mix of both, but that they were wayyyyy to dramamtic about her not being «herself» anymore, like people change, thats what we do, it doesn’t always mean we have «lost ourselves» like they told maya she had. what do you think? 💖💖💖💖💖

Hello! Thank you for sending this, because there’s a lot to be said, so let’s get into it! 

 

To answer your question, it’s a mixture of yes and no. The reason why I say yes is because, if you can, rewatch girl meets world of terror 2. The scene where riley and maya empty their brains (that whole animation scene), it really tells a lot without explicitly saying it. Maya’s head was full of rileys, “don’t do this” “be like me”, and whatever else she said (it’s been a while since I’ve seen it). But that is why I say yes. This triangle situation was really taking an emotional toll on Maya, and she needed someone to just give her a little nudge back to who she was after girl meets hurricane. She just needs someone to restore the hope in her, and the hope that everything would turn out how it was supposed to. However, the only person who could do that (*cough* Lucas *cough*) was off figuring out his own feelings and he wasn’t able to see Maya’s crisis in time. By the time he realized what was happening, Maya was back in Mayaville and she wouldn’t listen to him, hence why she stepped back from him in girl meets true maya. The only person who was around was Riley and even though it was unintentional on her part, she pushed Maya back into who she’s always seen, which is a Maya who is upset with herself because she thinks she’s the reason why her father left, someone who didn’t have hope, and that’s not who Maya was anymore. Riley couldn’t see that because she wasn’t in a place where she could actually see that she and Lucas weren’t the end all, be all. That there was a chance that Lucas and Maya had something real, and that the feelings she thought she had for Lucas were actually for someone else (can you guess who? Lol).

The reason why I say no is because in girl meets triangle, when maya’s crisis is in full effect, she’s still thinking about the decision that has to be made and that they need to include Lucas because he’s a part of it. However, Riley doesn’t want to hear it because she’s not ready. I fully believe that the triangle dragged as long as it did because Riley wasn’t ready, Maya wanted to make sure Riley was happy, and Lucas didn’t want to hurt either of the girls, plus he was still figuring out his feelings for each of them. Like I said before, Maya was emotionally stuck, because she was worried about Riley, while also trying to deal with her deep feelings for Lucas. I don’t know if she realized how deep her feelings actually were, but we all could see that her feelings were very different from Riley’s. So, she was going through all of that, and trying to hang on to the hope she got since the middle-to end of season 2. That’s a lot to go through emotionally, so she did go a bit into rileytown, her hair and outfits say so. But she wasn’t as far in as Riley thinks she was. She never “became riley”, she was still very herself, just with hope and confidence (plus a new wardrobe, curtesy of Shawn). 

Michael Jacobs called season 3 the “season of feelings”. Seasons 1 and 2 were friendship and growth. Riley and Maya’s friendship wouldn’t have survived if Lucas and Maya got together before Riley was ready. Like Cory said, “feelings can tear apart friendship and growth”. At the end of the day, girl meets world was about Riley, Maya, and their friendship. Since Riley wasn’t near the level of growth Maya was at, it was unfortunately Maya’s growth that had to be diminished to save the friendship. But the best part about growth is that it can be restored, which we started to see in girl meets IDo. And who helped lead Maya down that path again? The same person who helped her gain hope, and if we would’ve gotten our season 4, we would’ve continued to see that growth. 

Also, if you realized it, Riley did start to grow during the back half of season 3. Because after ski lodge, what happened with Riley and Lucas’ relationship? Barely anything right? That’s because as Michael Jacobs said, in ski lodge part 2, the characters made the “wrong decisions”. That means that by Lucas choosing Riley, he made the wrong decision. Now how would we know how a character makes the right decision, look at girl meets goodbye. When Topanga was trying to figure out what to do about London, Eric told her to find her quiet place, which turned out to be Topanga’s. She sat there and made the right decision, which was to stay. Now, another character also sat in a quiet place to think about a decision. Can you guess who it was? 

Lucas! 

In girl meets upstate, he went to the bay window to wait for the girls to tell them his decision, and he sat there for quote “5 hours”. Who did he decide on? We never got to find out because maya didn’t give him the chance to, but given the context, the answer was Maya. Topanga was able to say what her decision was, Lucas didn’t, and in turn he wasn’t given the chance to say the right decision (Maya) and therefore made the wrong decision (Riley). 

Now getting back to what I had said earlier, in the back half of season 3, Riley and Lucas barely interacted. That was because (and remember, this is just based on my observation), since Lucas and Riley had pushed one another to the level of growth that they could, they couldn’t help each other anymore. They needed other people (Maya and Farkle respectively), to push them further. Riley didn’t realize it yet, but she was starting to outgrow Lucas and if we got our fourth season, we would’ve seen Riley realize that Lucas wasn’t who she made him to be, and she then would’ve looked back at everything and seen that while her intentions were good, she was wrong about a lot, and from there, would’ve been on her own journey of growth. 

I know this post got out of hand, but there is a lot of complexity to these characters. But I hope this helped answer your question, and please feel free to ask me again, if you need clarification on anything I’ve said!

[merakiui]

[iii.] ᵃ ʷᵃʳᵐ, ˢᵗⁱᶠˡⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵉᵃ

serial killer!jade leech x female!reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, r18 implications, violence, brief mention of blood, alcohol/intoxication chapter ii│chapter iii (you are here)│chapter iv

Today’s Thought - Merfolk are reminded of humans when they find artifacts and skeletal remains scattered in shipwrecks. I once happened upon a pair of shoes floating on rocky waters, and not too far below the surface was the corpse. Humans often strip themselves of their second skin when they are in peril. Death carves at the fragile, eroding stonework of their minds and it produces a tragic sculpture that’s haunting to behold.

“A certain strawberry devil ranted to me about how you ought to submit your app. It was so bad I felt like I was the one getting lectured.” With a sharp tut, Cater adds in the best condescending tone he can muster, “Shame on you. You’re the worst. You’ll be cursed for a thousand years and more for such a heinous crime. Or maybe I should say you’ll lose your head instead? This is Riddle we’re talking about and that’s basically his catchphrase.” 

Scoffing, you snuff your laughter and drag the dainty nail polish brush along your fingernail. At once it’s stained in brilliant gold, a color so rich it mirrors all things wealthy and elegant—expensive finery, the retreating sun in a cotton candy sky, the polished prestige of valiant knights who don silver and return to aureate statues honoring their legacy. 

“Yeah, he got on my case this morning. Nothing new.” 

“That’s Riddle for ya. He’s had his entire life laid out since birth and now he’s going to try to mend yours. He was like that when we were in school. Always chartering courses for our academics and stuff like some pilot. All aboard Riddle Airlines, where your journey’s filled with beheadings and rules and crazy pressure! Honestly, it was a little overwhelming…” 

“First of all, keep me as far away from Riddle Airlines as possible. And secondly, who said my life needed mending?” 

“Not me,” he says in a teasing sing-song. “Seriously, though. If you don’t wanna work there, tell him. Riddle won’t know how you feel unless you let him know what's up, point-blank. TBH, it’s starting to look like you enjoy it when he scolds you. Who knew my adorable (Name) was such a devilish masochist! Where was this when we first met?” 

“Hah. You wish. I’m just glad Riddle and I are on talking terms again, even if most of it’s work-related. It’s still surprising he moved all the way out here. I wasn’t expecting he’d work at DD either.”

“Right?! It was way too impulsive! One day he calls me—completely out of the blue—and asks what you were doing with your life. I told him he should just text you to get the latest scoop, but he was so insistent that it had to be me. Eventually I gave in and shared the goss, and a week later he declared he was moving.”

“What’d you tell him?” You spread your fingers to inspect your iridescent nails. 

“I said you were getting married to a rich man who swept you off your feet, and the two of you will live in a big house and have three kids.” 

“Knowing Riddle, he probably believed it.”

Cater barks out a laugh. “JK. I said you’re working at DD and that you’re finishing your degree. That’s all.”

“Huh.”

“You don’t sound very convinced. What? Don’t tell me you think I’d give him the full truth. It pains me that you have such little faith in your bestie.”

“You didn’t, right?”

“Of course not. Riddle doesn’t need to know. Actually, what have you been up to lately? I never know anymore.”

“Says Mr. Magicam. You always know what’s going on.”

“Aha! Guilty as charged, Your Honor.”

Your hand lowers on your lap and you lean back against the headboard of your bed. For a minute you listen to the ticking clock on your nightstand while the cloying stench of nail polish assaults your nostrils. Cater doesn’t say anything and instead chooses to wallow in the silence with you. Eventually, you inhale a quiet breath and tap your phone until it’s brightened to show the outgoing call counting out every second. It breaches the ten minute mark. 

“Could you do me a favor?”

“Anything for you.”

“If Riddle asks about me or my life again, tell him everything’s fine.”

“Done and done! You can count on Cay Cay. Just know that he’ll continue to worry no matter what I tell him.”

“I wish he wouldn’t,” you mumble, blowing on your nails in hopes of getting them to dry faster. “Do you think gold suits me?”

“Oh? Is someone going out? What a shame. And here I was getting ready to pop the age-old question.”

“Karaoke can wait. This is important.”

“No fair. I really wanted to duet with you. Some friends are coming in tonight, too. I was gonna make it a big thing.” The faux dejection in his tone has you imagining the accompanying pout. “Is it that guy again?” 

“He wants to get dinner and I forgot to buy groceries. And if I’m getting a free meal out of it, why should I decline?” 

“Using your resources wisely. Good for you,” he praises. “So what’re you wearing?”

“A black dress.”

“Have fun at your funeral. Don’t you want to wear something brighter? The sun sets in an hour, lovely.”

“It’s cute, okay! I’ll video call right now and you’ll see what I mean.” 

“I believe you.” Cater’s face appears on the screen moments later and you struggle to hold your phone without ruining your still-drying nails. He peers at you and when you catch his gaze he winks. “Where’s the dress? All I see is a cutie.”

“Gross.”

“You’re so harsh on your bestie! Cut me some slack! Can’t I shower you with my platonic affection?” 

“Yeah, sure. Anyway, look. It’s cute, right?” Flipping the camera, you present Cater with a view of the strapless, thigh-length dress as it hangs off of your doorknob. He whistles playfully. “I have to put in some effort at the very least and this is the only fancy-looking dress in my closet. I’ll find a necklace or a bracelet to match and then we’ll be good to go.”

“It’s a pretty dress for a pretty lady. I’ll give ya that. Why black and gold, though? I thought you said this guy was into sailor aesthetics.”

“He is. He likes cutesy stuff like that. Lace and frills and summery dresses. But it’s not like I can show up to a five-star restaurant in sailor lingerie.” You heave an exhausted sigh while he cackles at the mental image of you turning up half-nude to a fine-dining establishment. “I can’t afford most of what he can, so I’m trying to look rich. And… Well.”

“What?”

“I don’t feel rich.” 

“You know what they say. Fake it until you make it, cupcake. Are you worried he’ll make you foot the bill if you don’t look the part?” 

“No. But I’ve been thinking about ending things with him and I want to look somewhat presentable so he won’t judge me when I break up with him after dinner.” 

“Dine and dash? More like dine and dump. Rest in pieces, mystery guy’s heart. You’ll be remembered… But why now? Isn’t he rich? You could hang onto him for a few more months—at least until you graduate and he’s paid off your student loans.” 

It’s not real love. 

“He can’t reach all the right spots,” you admit with a sheepish laugh. 

“That’s all? Oh, how I mourn for you…” 

And I hate burdening him with the thought that it might be. 

“I read an article about a murder that happened near your workplace. What was it called again? The Devil’s Dignity? Death? Delicacy?” 

“It’s The Devil’s Delight, and they’re saying the body was dumped there. So technically he wasn’t killed under the boardwalk.”

“Regardless, that still means someone killed and disposed of a human being.” Azul sips at his lemon water, a grim frown turning his lips down. Amidst the chatter in the palatial restaurant and the jazz band that plays notes so suave and mellow they’re practically musical caramel, your date fits into the puzzle with flawless grace. You wonder if you look as out of place as you currently feel. “It could have been you. You should be more conscious of your surroundings.” 

“It’s not going to be me. Whoever killed that man has no reason to come after me. I’m working minimum wage, I don’t have any rich relatives, I’m not worth any ransom, and I don’t have anything that can be used against me in exchange for my life. No kids, no spouse, no safe filled with a crazy, worth-killing-for inheritance. I’ll be fine.”

“There doesn’t have to be a reason. You could’ve been accessible. An easy target.” He shakes his head and sighs, setting his glass on the pristine tablecloth. “It’s too dangerous out there. You’re better off moving in with me. I recently upgraded my security system, so if anyone does come after you you’ll be safe.”

“But I already have an apartment.” You lift a butter knife from the table and run your fingernail along the blunt, serrated edges. “Besides, living together is a little…permanent. Wouldn’t it bother you if we were roommates? I’m noisy and I stay up late. I’m also unorganized and—”

“I'm aware, but what’s mine is yours. I welcome your company, no matter how noisy and unorganized it may be, with open arms.” Your silence doesn’t seem to be the answer he’s searching for because he clears his throat and schools his expression into something serious. “You’d be much closer to school and there are lots of things to do in the city. Job opportunities are plentiful.”

“I’m going to work at an aquarium.”

“Really?” Azul quirks an eyebrow. 

Wringing your hands under the table, you gaze at the golden chandelier that hangs overhead, light winking from each individual crystal like perfectly whitened fangs. “I already submitted my app and I’ve been waiting to hear back from them. So I can’t make any promises until I get a response. Sorry…” 

“No, no. I completely understand. You’re chasing your dreams, after all. It would be rude if I intervened.” 

It looks like there’s more he wants to say, but with the sudden arrival of the waiter any addition goes unspoken and interrupted. You set the knife in its rightful place while he decorates the table with your dishes. A delicious aroma wafts from the meticulously arranged portion, and it looks so picturesque that you can’t help snapping a photo while the waiter drones on about each meal and how it was prepared. You doubt the salad Azul ordered was a painstaking process, but your dish resembles an art piece swiped from a museum and recreated in food form. 

What did I even order again?

Tiny, bite-sized balls of meat have been grilled to perfection, a thin layer of grated mozzarella has been sprinkled over it like snowfall, and in the center of the dish, sitting piled amidst a black sauce, is spaghetti with a basil garnish. The creative display reminds you of tiny meat planets orbiting a pasta sun. 

“An aquarium,” Azul says after a few minutes of watching you poke at your meal, sip from your white wine, and avoid eye contact like it’s a loaded gun pointed directly at your head. “You’re studying marine biology, aren’t you? What exactly would you like to do at this aquarium?” 

“Train dolphins. No. Actually, I want to rehabilitate injured sea creatures.” You stab a chunk of meat and bring it to your lips. “Maybe live on a boat to study merfolk? Or coral reefs? Sea conservation?” 

“In other words, you haven’t the faintest clue.” His blunt declaration squeezes a laugh out of you and he sighs. “(Name), I want to help you achieve your goals. I think marine biology is a wonderful fit for you, but you can’t just skate through your degree without a solid plan. Do you want to travel abroad for your job? Do you want to settle down and live with me instead? These are questions that need answers.”

“Wait. What?” You gaze at his hand as it crawls across the table and settles atop yours like a spider cornering the unfortunate fly that fell into its dainty web. “Azul?” 

“I want to do everything I can to support you so that you’ll find the success you deserve. But I worry about you. When you live in such a grimy hovel—excuse me, a cramped apartment—and you’re barely making enough to survive… I can’t turn a blind eye to that. You know you can lean on me whenever you want. No matter what happens, I will always lend you my hand. And I hope that you’ll take it when it’s offered.”

His arm retreats from you and he reaches into the depths of his blazer, his overbearing determination freezing you to your seat. You’re not quite sure if this is the moment where all of your fears erupt and overflow like molten magma, so ferociously hot that it chars your insides and leaves your heart in ashes, but it certainly feels reminiscent of a situation on the verge of a volcanic eruption. 

Bathed in the ethereal aqua from the tropical fish aquarium, a massive display that sits in the very center of the room and stretches towards the ceiling, Azul cradles something small and cube-shaped in his palm. Before you can excuse yourself from the table, the urge to flee to the washroom more present than ever, he rises from his seat and lowers to the floor, one knee propped against the marbled tile. You stand as well and, painted in cobalt hues, it’s as if you’ve found yourself at the sea floor, shackled amidst waterlogged sailors. Fish peer at you as they pass, curious enough to watch from afar but not wishing to get between you and your date.  

If you thought you were on the verge of death before, your heart is already flatlining and lava is streaming from the volcano, snapping at your heels like the red-hot jaws of a famished devil. 

Azul is an angel in his fine suit—the king of pure, everlasting sugar snow—and he bows before you, a princess hailing from a land in shambles. Like the decrepit, abandoned ruins that reside within your chest, you want nothing more than to crumble into dust. Regret drives a stake into your side when the velvet box props open, revealing a sparkling ring with a cornflower sapphire positioned in sterling silver so glossy it reflects your shock. If such a moment can be classified as otherworldly, then you certainly feel alienated amongst Azul and the many onlookers who turn in their seats to ogle at the touching spectacle. 

“I know we promised we wouldn’t let this get too emotional,” he says, his usually debonair expression fraught with bashfulness. Hesitating for a single breath, he removes the ring from its silken coffin. Your heart sinks all the way down to your stomach, nestling amongst your intestines like a worm desperate to evade the ravenous bird that pecks at it. “But everything you do makes me feel so… Well, so emotional. There’s a better word for that, surely, but when I’m with you I lose all forms of coherency and I feel like the luckiest creature in all of this vast world. I’m honored to have met you, but I would be even more honored if you’d continue to stay by my side. Not as a friend, not as a benefit, but as mine to love. Forever and always.”

You’re trapped under the intensity in his stare as your eyes dart to and fro, searching for an escape route. Azul’s gentle voice pulls you back, a reminder that this is a reality in which you can’t just conveniently disappear from. 

“(Name), will you marry me?”

Raw horror prickles your skin when the ring winks at you in the dim light, a reminder that you’re stuck on this stage until the curtains fall. You glance at the people who watch with bated breath, eyes wide and prying. As if a noose has been fastened tightly around your neck, you lose the ability to speak and are instead forced to open and close your mouth like you’re gasping for oxygen in a tumultuous sea. You’ve always enjoyed the whirlwind of luxury that envelops you when you’re with Azul, and you’ve admired the way in which he operates with mounting adoration. But you’ve never once considered marriage. The both of you made an oath two years ago—a sacred vow that must never be broken no matter the circumstance.

You meet his unwavering stare. “Play along. Say you’ll marry me,” he whispers with a wink. In a much louder voice, he adds, “My love for you isn’t a sickness. If anything, it’s the cure-all to loneliness. I’d like to be your panacea, if you’ll allow it.” 

“I…” Tears well in your eyes and your lip quivers. “Of course I’ll marry you. I…love you, Azul.”

Those words cauterize your tongue, branding you as a liar. 

As delicate as a butterfly, Azul slides the ring onto your finger. You stare at it, and when he embraces you it feels as if you’re merely a statue of yourself—a vacant ghost who cannot return to the mortal coil she was once bound to. Your arms wrap around him and his kiss lingers on your cheek.

“And I love you. More than you’ll ever know,” he murmurs before pulling away and grinning at the audience.

His hand slides into yours and it’s a warm gesture that would have comforted you if the situation wasn’t so off-putting. Now it’s frigid and unwelcoming, a strange sensation that unnerves you. You stiffen when he squeezes it and a single tear streaks down your cheek when the crowd erupts into thunderous applause. 

“She said yes!” Azul exclaims, breathless with joy. 

The beauty of a stranger is that he can fit himself into as many portraits as he wants and you’ll never know the truth, a tiny voice pipes up. Tonight, he is a magician and you are the rabbit he’s pulled from his bottomless hat. 

Once the commotion has died down and you’ve lowered into your seat, fish-eyed and hollow, the waiter returns with a slice of chocolate mousse cake. Written on the plate in waltzing script is the word congratulations. You look to Azul for an explanation after the waiter has given his kindest regards. He folds his hands in his lap, a deceptive smirk darkening the softness of his face. 

“After the show we so graciously put on, I’d say we’re owed a free dessert.”

You run your finger through the crimson letters. They smear in delightful streaks. 

I hate this.

“Go on. Dig in.” Thoroughly delighted, he gathers a bite on his fork and holds it out to you. “Or is cake not to your liking?”

“I like it, but I think I’m going to need another drink before I eat it.”

Azul chuckles. “So it would seem.”

For the rest of dinner, you remain silent. Azul talks your ear off about all sorts of stories he finds comical, but you’re too busy staring at the ring on your finger. The lustrous gemstone looks too perfect to be real and the cake you indulged in was too sweet to be a normal dessert. You’re certain that these things are just in your head—that you’re just focusing on the negativity because of the past hour—but you can’t shake the sense that it’s all so crooked. 

After Azul pays, he escorts you to the sleek sports car waiting outside, and you catch the waiter’s eye for the final time. He offers you a courteous smile and another, “Congratulations on your engagement,” before disappearing into the glimmering grandeur of the restaurant. 

“You should consider it,” Azul tells you while Floyd, who hums along with the music that spills from the radio in upbeat harmonies, pulls out of the parking lot. You peer out the window, admiring the starless night sky and Azul’s reflection painted against the glass like a fuzzy constellation. “Living with me. It could be part of our arrangement. We would just amend the terms to suit this new addition.” 

“I’ll think about it. Your place is a little far from the diner.”

“Then quit.” A dry laugh escapes your pursed lips, but the humorless expression he wears has it sticking in your throat. His fingers trace patterns into your thigh. “I only want what’s best for you. You’re aware of this, yes? I’d do anything for you.” 

You force a small smile and place your hand over his. “I appreciate that.” 

The car speeds under an overpass and shadows overtake the inside of it. Azul’s blue eyes seem to glow like twin searchlights in a black sea. Swallowing your nerves and an encroaching confession, you submit to the comfort he provides, unable to confront the truth that towers over you. 

“It’s an expensive ring, but if you’ve grown attached to it you’re more than welcome to keep it,” Azul suggests as he shrugs his blazer off and hangs it on the coat rack.

Ignoring him, you drag yourself through the door, kicking your heels off without much regard to where they may land and dropping your purse on the nearby crescent table, and beeline for the kitchen. With a singular goal in mind, you open the wine cabinet to peruse the selection of high-quality spirits before selecting one at random and fishing through a drawer for the corkscrew. Azul’s arms form a familiar cage as he presses himself against you from behind, pinning you to the counter like a fetal pig on a dissection table. 

“You’re unusually quiet. Have I upset you?” His lips are warm against your neck. One hand intertwines itself with yours, preventing you from prying the cork out, and you release an annoyed huff. “How many glasses has it been now? Three? Or perhaps four?”

“Two. It was two, Azul.” 

“So you do have a tongue.”

“I get that free dessert is appealing and all, but a little heads-up would’ve been nice.” Ripping your hand free, you stab the screw into the cork and twist until it’s popped free. “You promised it wouldn’t get emotional.”

“And I’ve kept my promise! Did you think I was serious when I got down on one knee? You must be more gullible than I thought.”

“It just… It startled me, okay? You can’t do stuff like that without warning me.” 

You crane your head to look at him and your frustrations slowly evaporate. He squeezes your waist, a slight smile tugging at his lips when the tension in your shoulders droops, a momentary resignation to temporary contentment. Once again, as always, you’ve fallen into his arms, reduced to nothing but putty when he shares so much as a glimpse with you. The sincerity he dons is almost tangible—a pleasant thing that’s so undoubtedly real that you have to remind yourself that, underneath the physical nature of this relationship, he does indeed care for you. 

And you care for him. But can you care enough to not leave his heart in shambles after puncturing him with the truth? 

Tonight just isn’t the night for this. 

“It won’t happen again.” He spins you around, his pelvis connecting with yours, and the sensual proximity stings more than it should. 

I’ll break it off tomorrow.

“It’s just physical. That’s all it’ll ever be. Promise me.” 

Azul’s hand finds your cheek and you lean into it, eyelids fluttering shut. “Of course,” he mumbles, stroking you with the pad of his thumb. “Just physical.”

Yeah. Tomorrow. Definitely.

“Then let’s forget about it!” You drift away from him like foam caught on a wave, devoured and disintegrated. Without thinking, you grab two mugs from the dish rack and fill them to the brim with blood-colored wine. “Drink with me.”

Smirking, he lifts his mug from the stone countertop. “Going from glittering glass to poorly made pottery… Funny.”

“It doesn’t become funny if you say the word,” you advise, clicking your tongue. “We made these mugs together.” 

“I remember.” Azul surveys the design on his with fondness. The handle is crooked and the purple octopus that has been carved into it is composed of wobbly, jagged tentacles. Nevertheless, it still manages a lopsided smile. “And they are my finest works of art.” 

With an amused snort, you lift your mug to your lips and drink. Bittersweet wine stains your tongue. “I’m surprised you still have them. That was, like, so long ago. You only did that pottery class with me because I begged and begged, but looking at them now maybe we’re better off sticking to other hobbies.” 

Leaning against the counter, he sets his mug down and folds his arms. “I’ll have you know that they'll be priceless masterpieces one day. Consider yourself lucky I didn’t toss them while I was cleaning.” 

“Someone sounds sentimental.”

“Someone should be flattered.” Limpid eyes holding summer skies rove over your body, sketching your brilliance in the forefront of his mind, and when he arrives at a satisfactory image his trademark smirk-grin blooms. “In any case, thank you for entertaining my mischief tonight. I’d say you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

His hand finds your cheek once again and you have only a moment to brace yourself before he captures your lips with his. Your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug, which has a carving of a swarm of jellyfish on it. They exist in a red ocean, bound to the pottery and unable to swim freely. Between pondering trapped jellyfish and the delicate nature of Azul’s kiss, you realize you’ve forgotten to reciprocate. Awkwardly, you search for the countertop with your mug and set it down before throwing your arms around him. 

Your lips fit perfectly against his and while the two of you exchange breath, melting against one another like ice floes in warm waters, Azul’s hands wander along your back, fingers tugging at the zipper on your dress. You break away with a low gasp, palms pressing against his chest. He peers at you with lidded eyes and you nearly drown in those bewitching blues. 

“N-Not tonight…” You glance at the floor and pray that, with enough dedicated wishing, you’ll be able to will a rabbit hole into existence. Then you could wrap yourself in darkness and live with the worms in the soil, only ever fearing intrusive sunlight and gardeners. “Sorry, I’m not feeling it tonight. I have work tomorrow and I really don’t want to be hungover and sore. Bad combo.” 

“You can call off. Tell them you feel sick. We’ll spend the morning doing whatever you want. Movies. Junk food. Video games. Are you fond of puzzles? They’re a good stimulant for the brain.”

“I’ll be sick with hickies,” you mumble, pinching his cheek between your golden nails while he fixes his lips into a convincing pout. “That’ll send a proper message.” 

“I did say I’d be your cure-all, did I not?” 

“Coming from the guy who thinks love is a sickness, that doesn��t sound very reassuring.”

He laughs. “You’re a delight, (Name).” 

“And you need to do less talking and more drinking.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Why must you drink so excessively? 

It’s one of the few coherent thoughts produced by your hazy, inebriated mind. After bidding Floyd a slurred farewell, which he responds to with a bright, close-eyed grin and a wave, you begin the treacherous stumble towards your apartment complex. You rifle through your purse in search of your key as you trudge through the lobby and into an elevator, which takes you up to your floor and spits you out into the desolate hallway. 

Where is it? Don’t tell me you dropped your key. 

Groaning, you rest your head against the surface of your door and close your eyes for a moment of peace. Doing so only adds to your unbalance and you sway like a faulty ballerina on an uneven stage. Bracing yourself, you grasp the doorknob and freeze. 

Even through the fog that’s descended upon you, you’re certain it was locked when you left for the restaurant. Confused, you push the door open and stagger inside, slapping your hand along the wall for the light switch. Down the short hallway, your kitchen light is off and you shuffle through the threshold to reach it. 

“You sound so stupid right now,” you grumble, cringing at the unflattering grittiness in your tone. “Probably look just as stupid, too.”

Forget it. Need to find the key. Just retrace your steps. 

After turning on the lights in the kitchen, you set your purse down and exhale slowly. Uncaring whether or not you break something, you empty its contents onto the counter and search for your apartment key. Amidst crumpled receipts, pocket-sized makeup products, and a tin of mints, you learn that your key and phone are missing.

You left it at Azul’s. Wonderful. 

Sighing, you stare at the knife block that sits beside the coffee machine. Your gaze hardens the moment you realize all of the knives are missing and, with growing confusion, you take a wobbling step back and yank open a drawer. The forks and spoons are there, but the knives that usually reside there are also gone. 

Did you move them? Shaking your head, you shut the drawer. That’s not possible. You were with Azul. Did Cater come over before that? 

A faint creak permeates the space and you drop to your knees just as a blade swings through the air. Gritting your teeth, you stare up into the face of your would-be assailant had you not moved. He looms over you, mismatched eyes hiding murderous calculations. Terror turns your blood to ice and you leap out of the way just as he lunges for you, grabbing at the countertop instead of your arm. You crawl through the doorway into the living room, mind muddled with fine wine and a still-forming escape plan. Pressing yourself against the coffee table, you swallow your nerves and dig your nails into your palms with so much force you’re certain you’ll break skin. The pain grounds you momentarily, and it’s enough for logic to force its way past the curtains shrouding you.

You have to calm down.

With your heart pumping wildly in your chest, you heave a few frantic breaths, eyes flicking from the ceiling to the floor to the door that waits at the end of the hall, blocked only by the tall figure who stalks towards you.

“Good evening,” he says, his voice a mere ghost in the suffocating silence of your apartment. His finger taps against the sleek, flat belly of a knife as he considers the raw fear splayed across your face. “I retract my previous greeting. Intruders make for terrible evenings, wouldn’t you agree? I suppose I should just say hello instead.” 

Calm down. Calm down and consider your options. You can scream and—no, with this proximity he could quickly cover the distance, slash your throat, and you’d bleed out before help could even get here. What else can you do? You can find a weapon to defend yourself with. No, he hid all of the knives. For now, stall him. Act helpless. He doesn’t know anything. You can talk your way out of this.

Uncurling your fists, you brace your palms against the floor and meet his vacant stare. “J-Jade, what’re you…doing here?” Your vision swims and you blink rapidly to gain control of your bearings. “Why… Why do you have a knife? W-We’re friends, aren’t we?“ 

“Are we?” he asks, tilting the knife back and forth as if considering the worth of your relationship.

“Of course! We… We worked together! And you’re friends with Azul! S-So am I! So I don’t understand why you’d break in like this.” 

“If finding companions via association counts as true friendship, then I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken when you label me as such. Please re-evaluate your definition of friendship.” 

He’s wearing gloves and a surgical mask, so it’s obvious he’s planned this. How did he even get in? Does he have a key? Where’d he hide? Forget it. Focus on the problem and look for a solution. He has a knife. It’ll cut deep if enough speed and force are put into the stab and that’ll hurt you. Shoes are still on. How rude. You maintain eye contact, tensely waiting for him to pounce and drive the blade into your skull. No other weapons are nearby. Unless you secure a fork from the drawer and target his eyes or his throat. But that means you have to get close to him and he’s still armed. 

Dragging your legs into your chest, you watch the knife warily. Escape is possible. If you can get outside, get to the car… That won’t work. Can’t drive. Windows could be smashed. But you’d be outside. No. You can’t rely on a neighbor. Maybe Cater or Riddle? No, it’s too late. But you can get out of here. It’s possible. 

Jade glances at his feet. “Ah, my apologies. I seem to have forgotten my manners.” 

With his eyes still locked on your shivering frame, he slips his leather shoes off. And then he takes another step towards you and the thread of restraint finally snaps once he’s within range. With the majority of your weight on your upper body, you kick your legs out, driving the top pieces of your high heels into his knees as hard and fast as you can. Caught by surprise, he crumples with a hiss and the knife clatters to the floor, sliding across the hardwood.

Scrabbling to your feet, you swoop down to grab it just as Jade swipes at you. With a yelp, you jump away, landing unsteadily on your legs. Your heel skids against the floor and breaks with a sudden crack, and you can feel your ankle twist unnaturally, the muscles straining with agony. Sharp, tingling pain overwhelms you and your lips part in a silent scream the minute your shoulder makes contact with the floor. Tears blur your vision as you drag yourself towards the knife, reaching out with splayed fingers. 

The handle fits into your palm just as Jade grabs you by the arm and yanks you up. 

“For a drunk, your kick was very accurate. I’m impressed.” He tightens his grip when you struggle, a warning that doesn’t deter you in your desperate frenzy. “I should also thank you for allowing me access to your humble home whilst you were away. You’re quite the accommodating host.”

Growling, you thrash in his grip and swing the knife around in a fit of blind panic. His hand catches your wrist before you can slash his face and he shoves you to the floor. A wheezing gasp bursts from deep within your lungs and your head aches with fizzling stars. You’re certain they’re imploding because it’s as if a dozen firecrackers are popping within your skull, the explosions drowning out all other thoughts of escape. Survival is the only thing you cling to now, and if that’s attained through animalistic bloodshed you’ll do what you must. 

“Please…” you plead, grasping at nothing in hopes that something will save you. “You don’t want to do this… Don’t do this.” 

Get up! Get up! You’re going to lose consciousness if you stay here like this. You push yourself up on your elbows, grunting with the effort. It’s as if you’re ripping your arms free from a pit of molasses so thick it’s practically tar. His foot finds the small of your back and he pushes you down as if he’s simply crushing a cockroach. No, no, no! This can’t be happening. What did you do wrong? What didn’t work? Your reaction time? Your reflexes? Your combat capabilities? 

Sliding his foot off, he lowers himself onto your back and the tip of the knife digs into your temple. A thin ribbon of blood runs down the side of your face. “If you would be so generous, I’ll need the password to your phone.” 

“My phone…isn’t here.” 

His eyes narrow into disbelieving slits and his hand grips your neck with enough brutality to cow you into submission. “Is that so?” 

“It’s the truth. You can…” Vomit rises in your throat and you swallow thickly, wincing at the acidic taste of wine and bile. “You can check…my purse if you don’t believe me.”

Silence stretches taut between the two of you. Eventually, he rises to his feet and steps over you, proceeding to pick through the pile of items you haphazardly dumped on your countertop. Clenching your jaw, you lift yourself onto your arms once again, clawing at the wall for support. With a spinning carousel for a brain, you manage to stand and brace yourself against it. 

You take a daring step forward, so certain that freedom awaits just down the hall, and instantly stumble, landing on the floor with a harsh smack. Everything shifts in a swirling blur, and you can’t tell if it’s from the intoxication muddling your mind or the pain racing through your body. The urge to vomit returns stronger than ever, and you clasp your hands over your mouth, stifling a pitiful groan.

“It’s pointless to flee. You’re just exhausting what little energy you have left.” He turns to address you from where you remain on the floor, clinging to consciousness as the walls spin around in a dizzying waltz. Despite how futile it seems, you attempt to crawl away from him when he approaches. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect much when you’re in such a messy state. What an unfair disadvantage for you.”

“Hate you…” you whisper, tears brimming. “I hate you…so much.”

Just as your eyelids flutter shut, you catch his final words. They echo within your brain like the haunting hum of an Aeolian harp. 

“I’d be more surprised if you loved me.” Chuckling, he lifts your chin with his foot. “Don’t cry. It’s a hideous look for a parasite. I find it most unappealing.”

I hope tomorrow’s horoscope is better.

[cock-holliday]

hey! genuine question, ive only seen the flag you have in your icon called the “butch lesbian flag” and i see that you say in your bio

do you also consider yourself lesbian? or are non-lesbians allowed to use the flag?

i ask because im butch but not lesbian and idk if i can use that flag

So, I for years would put the bi flag behind a character, as a headcanon or they WERE bi or because I just felt like it. I changed my icon to Van from Yellowjackets and, confident she would NOT ID as bi, it felt odd to put the flag behind her even if it was MY identity. So I put a shared one: butch.

Now, there’s lots of lesbian flags, trans inclusive or exclusive, there is the labrys, with all its complicated history and imagery. And there’s two butch flags. This one, which stresses butch lesbian:

And this one, which tends to either say butch lesbian or butch on its own:

I liked it, for its similarity to the Bear Flag, another group of shunned and complicated queer mascs.

Do I identify with the term lesbian?

Yes and no. I identify with it for the fact that many people have used it how I use bisexual throughout history, as for many it was more adjacent to “sapphic” or “likes women in a gay way.” There are male lesbians and bi lesbians and nb lesbians and lots of ways to be a lesbian. Some used the label AS a gender.

In many ways I identify with it, in others, the label makes me feel distant from another part of myself. My attraction to men would often be assumed absent if I used lesbian INSTEAD of bisexual, regardless of it I or others used it that way. So I hover on the cusp of the term lesbian and reach for bisexual first, sometimes only.

Now, words like dyke? I get told you cannot reclaim it if you aren’t a capital L Lesbian. But I’ve been called it. Plenty. I would attend dyke marches. The Boston Dyke March explicitly included bi dykes in their definition. Frankly, they said anyone who identifies with being a dyke is welcome to call themselves one.

So what about butch? I tell people to read it all the time but I went and copied the full opening essay of Butch Is A Noun titled “I Know What Butch Is” and will add it under the cut.

But long story (essay) short, if you identify with butchness, congrats, you’re a butch, and can use the butch flag.

I know what butch is. I know, and I’m going to tell you, so listen up and take notes. First of all, butch is a noun. And an adjective. And a verb.

Butches only ever wear jeans and boots, except if they’re wearing suits, and they keep their hair clipped down to a flattop you could putt off. Except if they have to for work. Or if they want to for sex. Or if they want to for some other reason. But otherwise it’s denim and leather and butch wax, kid, and don’t you forget it. Unless you’re vegan.

Toughness, even at the expense of gentleness, is a butch trait. Butches are outlaws. Also gentlemen. Gentlemen who open doors and pick up checks and say “after you” and hold your umbrella over you in the rain while the water drips down their sleeves. But butches not gentlemen if being a gentleman means imposing on the unsuspecting their sexist modes of acting out the cultural paradigm of the helplessness of women. Except if the unsuspecting are crying and need a handkerchief, or elderly and need a seat to sit down in, then it’s all right. Probably. But butches should never wait for a femme to tell them specifically that it is all right to behave in a gentlemanly fashion, they should just go ahead and do it because femmes like a butch with confidence, unless it turns out that she finds it offensive and feels as though you have imposed your gender fetish on her, you arrogant bastard.

And butches are monosyllabic, until you get to know them, which they will not allow but want, or will allow and want, or will allow but don’t want, or won’t allow and don’t want, so you may or may not get to know them, but you should try, or not. But butches are monosyllabic because all that talking is girl stuff, you know? Butches grunt in answer to questions; they speak sharply and emphatically. They do not share, process, or explain because these are activities that bring nothing but trouble, unless they are bringing relief to the troubled heart of a butch carrying around too much hurt or pain, though butches do not actually feel pain; they’re tough enough to either slough it off like dead skin or deal with all of that themselves. Unless someone wants for them to be emotionally available, in which case they can feel their feelings even though the presence of feelings is suspect in the first place, but they must stop immediately as soon as someone else is having a tough time so that all their resources can be directed to soothing that person.

I know what butch is. Butches are not beginner FTMs, except that sometimes they are, but it’s not a continuum except when it is. Butch is not a trans identity unless the butch in questions says it is, in which case it is, unless the tranny in question says it isn’t, in which case it’s not. There is no such thing as butch flight, no matter what the femmes or elders say, unless saying that invalidates the opinions of femmes in a sexist fashion or the opinions of elders in an ageist fashion. Or if they’re right. But they are not, because butch and transgender are the same thing with different names, except that butch is not a trans identity, unless it is; see above.

Butches are always tops. They always fuck the girls, and, for that matter, their partners are always girls; there is no such thing as a butch who is attracted to men. Well, transmen, but that’s just butch-on-butch repackaged as faggotry. But no non-trans-men. Unless the butch in question is a non-trans-man, then it’s okay. Except that non-trans-men cannot be butches, because butch is a queering of gender that assigned-male people cannot embody, unless they occasionally can, in which case they have to be gay men. Or the partners of femmes. Or not. But no one with an assigned-female body can be a butch and do it with assigned-male men. Unless they’re femmes. Or butches. I’m really putting my foot down on this one.

I know what butch is, and butches definitely, absolutely, do not get fucked, even if it feels so good to have someone slide in sweet and hard and rock them just right. They might eat pussy but they never suck cock, because licking pussy is chivalry without pants, and, of course, any butch would want to do anything to please the femme in hir life, if there is a femme. Which there has to be, in order to be a true butch, except if there does not have to be, but you cannot be a misogynist about it either, which a lack of interest in femmes and their attendant delights may be read as—if there is a lack, which there shouldn’t be. But anyway, cocksucking is about ownership and dominance, so butches must always be the ones having their cocks sucked, unless the owner of the cock being sucked by a butch is tied to something, but if a butch were tying down someone with a cock of some variety then the above rule would quite likely be violated, and I think I’ve been very clear about that, so never mind.

Butch has a lot of privilege because butches pass as men a lot, and butches also have a lot of privilege in the queer community because butch reads as queer and femme doesn’t always, and being able to pass to keep one’s self safe isn’t privilege if you’re a femme but it is if you’re a butch. Unless this is a butch who can pass as a heteronormative woman, in which case ze’s not really a butch anyway because no butch could do such a thing. Except that some of them can and also having kids really helps, even though no butch could have kids because of the rule about not getting fucked and also because that’s a femme’s job, but not everyone really understood their butchness all the way along and also sometimes there are fertility issues and also sometimes there’s not a femme so we’ll grandfather in some children but we’ll be suspicious of those butches. Unless they’re really great butch dads of whatever sex, in which case we’ll think it’s the damn cutest thing in the world and punch them on the arm, or if they’re awesome butch moms we’ll make approving comments about their ability to raise feminist men, but otherwise no children and no heteronormativity for sure, except for assigned male butches who do not exist.

Besides all of that, the butch pays. If there’s only one butch on the date. Unless the femme wants to. If there’s a femme present. If there’s a femme present, the butch pays unless hir paying would upset the femme or unless it creates class issues for the butch or patriarchy issues for the femme. Or if it’s two butches on a date, which they shouldn’t be. Or they should. In any case, they arm-wrestle for it. Except in such situations in which a public display of aggression on the part of butches, or an interaction which may be read as such, could potentially be detrimental to the community, to the mental health of those witnessing the act, to the butches themselves for feeling compelled to act out normative masculine-gendered conflict-resolution tactics, or to the glassware of the dining establishment, which so often gets broken. But otherwise, the butch always pays, and there’s just no getting around that.

I know what butch is. Butches are a brotherhood, or possibly a sisterhood, which would be a marvelous way to reclaim butch’s roots in the lesbian community except some butches were never part of the lesbian community and some were but aren’t any more, but placing masculine identities on butches is disrespectful, except when it’s desirable, but anyway, butches are a tribe, a tribe of people who have been maligned endlessly for, and in fact forged an identity in part out of, not fitting the gendered expectations of the culture in which they exist (until or unless they work to pass as men, which always or never or sometimes happens and is absolutely a great or problematic thing), so butches are very open to gendered variations in others and would never, ever try to make another butch feel like shit for having displayed a behavior which does not fit the microculture’s standard of what it means to be a butch, which is a useful or idealized or ridiculous or just plain complicated standard, so it should be adhered to, or critiqued, or aspired to, or not. Butches would also certainly never try to school younger butches in ways that are angry and dangerous because they feel like the process of toughening has disappeared from modern culture and butches need to be tough, dammit. Butches who do those sorts of things either are Real Butches or are Not Real Butches, depending who you ask.

There, that should be perfectly clear.

[surveillance-0011]

I recently got to the HOTD fandom and I saw @hollybluberry's and others devil concept and I had a question which is

what are your headcanons on @hollybluberry's and the other devil concepts people made?

ah oops sorry im getting to this late!!

i don't really have too many head canons for other people's devil concepts,, but off the top of my head

@hollybluberry devil:

friendly but takes no shit

spends a lot of time preening their wings.

Enjoys the sun (odd since many creatures who are more nocturnal) but also fond of clear nights and looking at stars

Points out constellations and the like while stargazing. Holds up Tower to the sky and points to Ophiuchus and is like "look it's you!!" It's like holding up a cat to the Sphinx

Has tried to point out Lacerta to Heirophant with even less success.

gets upset/disappointed seeing the other bosses fight (ive always headcanoned that all together the bosses usually don't get along too well with only the handful of factions/little groups getting along... better??) and often has to break things up. I assume they'd listen to her.

As Blu mentioned Magician and Hangedman have seen her angry and consequentially they're a Bit Scared. Magician isn't visibly frightened but treats them with a lot of respect and is uncharacteristically agreeable+polite with them. Hangedman has started to avoid her, on the other hand, immediately stopping what he's doing if he looks over to see her looking peeved. He's like. actually fucking terrified of her and he's not someone who really gets scared all that much. So it's a bit strange and he won't elaborate on why he's so scared of them.

Most creatures are intimidated by her but none are actively hostile towards her. Some of the bosses don't always approve but it's hard to stay mad at her because she's much more gentle/lax and levelheaded relative to the others.

Likes sweet snacks with fruit.

hates thornheart and pities curien/wheel of fate, though she's not gentle with him either. WOF isn't intimidated by her at all though, though whether or not he's seen her angry or not is hard to say.

Moon, on the other hand, thinks all the eyes are cute. I mean, moon's self preservation skills are dogshit and he's biased since he's got three eyes, but hey.

Assuming that a boss fight with her, knowing how she'd let them win, would maybe have a phase where she fights out of fear or being hijacked by Thornheart?

Generally full of whimsy and curiosity for the world around them and wishes to see more of the world, and how it was before humanity fell.

@pixelcoin devil:

aggro towards most humans. Cool with creatures and other lab grown undead etc as long as they don't show aggression first

Still, anyone who could prove their worth may be shown mercy...

Kind and polite to their few closest allies

also annoyed by any fights between the bosses. much more... assertive in their ways of breaking up any discourse (read:mauling)

they get injured in the antics just as frequently though, so it balances stuff out.

a little silly. we stay silly

finds zeal and other smaller creatures cute, much to their chagrin. Especially zeal's chagrin, but he does appreciate being seen as endearing and doted upon rather than treated like some pest.

Wasn't like that at first, though. There was not a good first impression. Devil still calls him out on his bullshit now too, but he's forgiven a bit easier than most.

Also i am sure zeal is getting the (metaphorically speaking here hopefully) Webkinz Milk Plush Treatment. to be loved is to be changed.

Kuarl is not amused by this.

Strength kind of is.

Belligerent and high energy. Also a bitch to deal with when they get mad. much more violent than Blu's Devil, I assume.

A total powerhouse, often unaware of their full strength. Many an accidental energy beam shot through a wall....

Their eyes get stuck outta their head a lot. Magician is skeeved out to hell and back every time this happens but tries (and fails) not to show it as Devil often goes to him for help

Devil is a sort of tentative leader? They're treated as one of the big men on campus, yknow, but I think with their youth they may have some power struggles or find themself pushed around by the more domineering ones like Emperor or Moon.

Goatlike mannerisms but only really eats meat.

Hangedman isn't as put off by this one...for... don't know actually. Then again this Devil is more like the baby of the curien-thornheart-goldman fucked up family of all time so?? idk??

i think both the devils would manage to kind of sort of get along. hopefully. i would like them to :3c

[hearts4robs]

Hello~!

I've never done a match up event before! But knew I had to try once I saw it was open cause your writing is absolutely precious!

For Fandom, I guess DC! Love Batfam family chaos! Makes me want to curl up with a blanket and watch them bicker and roughhouse until Alfred comes in with a feather duster, looking equal parts disappointed and amused.

I'm a 5'3 18 year old asexual panromatic. (Yes, im just a baby, though i have been told-more like my therapist often told me that i dont act my age, saying i act like Im 30. Still trying to figure out if I should be offended by that.) With long hair that's completely grown out red box dye like little mermaid red, my roots being somehow not quite brown not quite ginger and just not blonde enough to be strawberry blonde. My appearance is fairly round and cute even if my expression is often RB. My eyes are a green that appears to be more of a dark grey.

To sum up my personality in one word would be cat like. Sometimes I'm docile and actually a bit of a doormat. In new environments, I tend to shadow some I know and can't find myself able to stand up for myself. This is probably ties into my selective mutism and social anxiety. Sometimes, when I'm in a familiar environment, I tend to be more aggressive for better or for worse. I love a good argument and debate, standing firm in my decision even if I'm wrong. That stubbornness has gotten me in trouble quite a few times. Though cause of it, I've thought of becoming a lawyer. When I'm not arguing I'm drawing, or painting on my walls which I've done far too many times now.

I'm very much a homebody who rather stay in pjs but perfect date wise would probably be a bit of a classic nerd/bookworm date of going to a cute book store and getting lost in the deep wooden bookshelves flicking through various of books catching my eye. Maybe debating on what book is better or whatever trope is more interesting in a detective novel. (I love murder mystery, horror, thrillers, romances of all types, and absolutely despise shakespeare. I was told Romeo and Juliet was a tragic romance. Liars they all are all I can see is the making of a really creepy stalker movie. I can't watch horror movies funny little contradiction, right?) Personally I'd probably write something after the date. I always get inspired by going out and always find myself hunched over my laptop writing whatever inspired me have it be the moment or a movie. I don't know how many times I've watched a movie and got inspired just to spend hours writing whatever fanfic about it. Which can be either amazing or terrible cause I'm an okay writer with a preference for angst due to my dark humor.

I never realized how hard it was to pick an ideal type until just now lol. I guess my type is someone who would enjoy talking/debating/discussing with me, someone fun who loves to do new activities as ive never really do much and is willing to listen to me ramble about whatever hyperfixation. Bucket list kind of things or be able to stay in and talk about their day while I cook some food. (One of my love languages is food. I want to be full and content.) I'm a homebody who has more of a traditional mindset due to my upbringing. So staying home and activities at home would probably be more common. Oh! A bit more open minded or at leasr able to deal with my curiosity, I love discussing religions and culture practices (im unfortunately like the whitest of whites. My dad's side is a bit of a classic white racist). I'm a pagan with some more Wiccan practices, yes crystals and candles. We put holly near our front door and hang cinnamon brooms throughout the house to bring good fortune.

Trope is also a hard pick. I like a good enemies to lovers or a revenge story but romance wise probably a childhood friends (or friends to lovers) idea. Just the idea of your partner being someone who was your friend since you were a tot and chasing butterflies, picking dandelions to blow them into the wind. Someone who has looked at you like your the center of their world while you pull them through the park. Even though they have no idea what lo6ge is truly is. Just kind of melts my heart, and will probably give me cavities from the fluff.

Ahh hopefully I did this right! Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Hope you have a blessed day, and something amazing happens to you soon <3

𝐓𝐢𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐞: 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞-𝐨𝐮𝐭

“I’m back!�� Tim exclaims out into the open hallway as he pushes the door closed with his foot. There were multiple white, thin plastic bags in Tim’s hands, his keys dangling from one of his fingers.

You raise your head from the book in your lap, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of your boyfriend as he shimmied his way out of his shoes.

“Hi, honey.” You smile at him as he walks to the coffee table in front of you, setting down the bags of different take-out.

“Alright.” Tim sighs with a grin, his chest heaving a bit quicker, like he was a bit out of breath.

“What’s all this?” You ask, reaching over and pulling some of the thin plastic away from the food. “Smells amazing, no doubt but-“

“Well, you said you wanted to taste the world.” Tim says, a giddy smile on his lips as he plops down onto the couch beside you with a sigh. “So I brought it to you.”

You smile at him before snorting out a chuckle.

“Fuck you.” You say, and Tim simply smiles before grabbing a small box of thai food, handing it to you, giving you a chance to get the first bite.

“You’re welcome.” He says, nuzzling a small kiss to the softness of your cheek.

Headcanons:

Tim and you have annual movie nights. Every Friday night. Very simple, very easy. You have a joint letterbox account where you leave brutally honest reviews and you both analyse that shit like your life depends on it.

When you guys moved into your shared apartment, Tim dedicated one of the walls of your living room for you to paint and draw on. Needed more space? He’ll paint it over with whatever background colour you need.

You guys have a small chalk board on your fridge. It was used as a small shopping list at first, like writing up stuff like ‘ran outta eggs and cucumber’, but it quickly ended up in Tim leaving you cute notes and reminders for when he was gone on patrol.

Tim doesn’t always understand your asexuality, and he struggled to figure out how to relieve himself, but he figured out a solution and tries to turn the topic whenever someone discusses it to the point it makes you uncomfortable.

I hope you like this </3 it’s a bit late and honestly a little rushed but I’m trying😭🙏this also ISN’T proof-read so I’m so, so sorry if there’s mistakes☝️☹️

[michelle-is-writing]

Accident, Mick Mars

Word Count: 1.9k~

This was a call Mick never expected to get. This was something the guys never expected to hear from me, either. Quite frankly, I never thought I’d have to make the call telling them I got into an accident and now I’m in the hospital, but here I am.

“(Y/n), are you okay?!” Mick asks for the fifth time, fear filling his voice as he stays on the phone with me. “Please, tell me you’re okay,” he repeats, “I don’t give a shit about the car - are you okay?”

Nodding even though he can’t see me, I answer him, “Yes, I’m okay... well, as okay as I can be in an ER of all places,” I tell him, the nurse standing next to my bed injecting what’s likely pain medication through my IV as I get comfortable in my hospital bed. “They had to put stitches where my head hit the window, and I-I got a concussion and my shoulder really hurts from the seatbelt, but I’m okay, I promise.”

“I’m on my way,” he tells me, causing me to shake my head instantly. They just started recording their new album and I know they don’t have any time to waste on it either. If Nikki has to fight to get a few hours to go to a doctors appointments, then Mick probably won’t be able to leave to come here - especially since I’m pretty much fine and nothing is wrong with me.

“No, no, don’t come here. Please, honey,” I plead with him, the nurse giving me a strange look as she listens. “I know that finishing the album is really important to you guys, and I don’t want you guys to have to pause it just for me. So, please,” at this point, the nurse is pushing me to lay back down. In the middle of me trying to change Mick’s mind, I sat up, and now that I’m back against the pillows, I realize just how much my back hurts when I move. I sigh. “Just stay at the studio until you guys are allowed to leave. I’ll be okay, and it’ll take a while for them to discharge me. Okay?”

For a few moments, the other line stays quiet, and I find myself closing my eyes. I can’t decide if it’s the pain medicine kicking in, or if it’s me coming down from the adrenaline rush, but I’m really tired all of a sudden. Just as I feel myself slipping away into the darkness of sleep, Mick sighs and speaks up once more. “I’m on my way.”

As soon as I hear the other line click, I let out another sigh and put the phone down by my side. “Men,” the nurse mutters, taking the rooms phone and putting it back on the hook. “They never listen - no matter what you tell them.”

Still feeling tired, I shake my head. “So I see,” I mutter, the nurse smiling back at me.

“I’ll be honest, they’ll probably want to keep you overnight just in case,” she further informs me. “Usually, when head trauma is involved, they want to keep you for observation. You’re feeling okay now because of the morphine, but it won’t last forever.”

Nodding at her, I sigh once again. “Just what my husband needs,” I mutter, but the nurse only smiles again.

“It’s good that he’s coming - he should,” she tells me as she pulls the hospital blanket over me more. “But don’t worry about him, just get some rest. You need it,” at that, I nod my head, albeit a little hesitantly. I don’t want to be the reason Mick gets in trouble with their manager, nor do I want Mick to get in trouble at all.

Finally comfortable, I close my eyes and feel my body relax further into the bed just as the feeling of exhaustion consumes me. I have never felt this tired in my life, and there’s no fighting it either - it’s already won.

What feels like days pass before my eyes open again, and I’m greeted by the hospital ceiling I fell asleep to. The only difference now is the brightness of the lights and how bad it’s hurting my head. On top of that, my pain meds have worn off and everything I wasn’t feeling before is hitting me at full force.

With a small pained cry, I bring my hand up to cover my eyes as fast as I can to block the light. Following that, I hear the rustle of someone beside me before Mick’s concerned features fills in the gaps of my fingers. “Baby, are you okay?” He asks, worry filling his voice.

Despite the pain in my head, I move my hand away from my face to look at Mick leaning over me before reaching up to touch his face, happy tears filling my eyes. I may have told him that he didn’t have to come, but I’m so glad he’s here right now.

“Babe, are-you-okay?” He asks once again, sounding out every word out as he lifts his hand up to cup my hand currently on his cheek. “You’re crying, what’s wrong? Does something hurt?”

“No- well, yes, but that’s not why I’m crying,” I explain, giving a small laugh. “I’m just really happy to see you here, and I know I said don’t come, but I’m so glad you did,” at that, Mick gives me one of his rare smiles before leaning down and kissing my cheek.

“I’m going to go get the nurse so she can get you more meds, okay?” He tells me, before standing back up and heading out of the room. It is in this moment that I realize this has happened before, although Mick and I were in opposite roles.

He had just gotten out of surgery for his hip and I was the one stressing to make sure he was comfortable and not in pain. At first, he was in a lot of pain, and I tried my best to soothe him while they were getting the pain medication for him. With the anesthesia still in his system, he was trying so hard to get me in his hospital bed so I could hold him, but at that point, I couldn’t and I felt bad about it. I also had to be the one to corral the boys out of his room since they were bringing nothing but havoc into the hospital - it was nothing unusual though.

It isn’t too long before Mick’s back with the nurse and I’m getting more morphine put in my IV. Thankfully, it works quickly, and once again, Mick and I are left to each other.

“How long have you been here for?” I ask him, watching as he takes a seat in front of me on my bed.

“For a few hours,” he answers, making me sigh. I was asleep the whole time and he could’ve been at the studio until I woke up. “But I’m glad I left early. Your doctor told me what all happened from what the E-M-S worker told him,” well that’s good the doctor told him since I don’t remember a whole lot after the accident. Mostly, I remember being brought in through the ER doors and calling Mick as soon as I could.

“He said you were going in and out when you were in the ambulance since you hit your head pretty hard. Plus, you lost a little blood; that’s why you really needed to sleep,” with everything he says, I can hear every ounce of concern he had and still has for me. Although, at the moment, the worried face Mick has right now just kills me inside.

Looking away from Mick, I sink deeper into the bed than before. “I was going to the store to pick up something to make for dinner,” I explain, “I wasn’t too far from the house when it happened. My light turned green and I went, but before I knew it, I felt something hit the car and I felt my head hit the window,” closing my eyes, I feel myself start to tear up again. “I don’t know if they can fix the car since he hit me really hard and I am so sorry, Mick, I am so sorry.”

Mick wastes no time in moving up closer to me in bed, but unlike the time he was the one in the hospital bed, we’re able to lie in it together. “Baby, please do not blame yourself, okay? Because it wasn’t your fault, and I know that, everyone knows that,” he assures me, wrapping his arm around me to hold me close to him. Meanwhile, his other hand reaches up to wipe my tears away, his hand staying there afterward. “It was that guy’s fault, it was all him. He shouldn’t have gone on a red and almost…”

Mick drones off with his words, leaving me to open my eyes and look up at him. Now he’s the one with his eyes closed, his forehead pushing together like he’s in thought. Mick isn’t the easiest person to read, and it’s not always easy for him to show how he feels. Over the years, I’ve learned what each of his little movements mean. Right now, I feel like he’s almost distraught and he can’t make himself say what could’ve happened. The idea of something happening to me during the accident is what’s making Mick upset, and I wish he wouldn’t think that way.

“Mick, honey,” I murmur, running my hand across his hair. “Please look at me,” he doesn’t despite my request, making me lean forward a little lean to my head up toward his. “Please.”

Thankfully, Mick turns his head at me this time, and with red, cloudy eyes, Mick meets my gaze. “I’m okay,” I whisper, giving him a smile. “And I will be okay - okay? You shouldn’t be so upset, baby. I’m here.”

For a second, Mick pauses before speaking, his voice quieter than before. “I could’ve lost you,” he points out with a low and strained voice. “Things could have been different, and I wouldn’t be here holding you, but rather, signing your name on a death cert-” Mick cuts himself off, unable to finish his sentence once again as my hand moves down to his cheek.

Pulling him to me, I press my lips to his, and thankfully, he kisses me back as his hands move to pull me closer. After a few moments, I pull away with a smile. “Thankfully, you’re not signing anything,” I remind him, watching as he gently smiles back with a nod. “I’m still here, and I’m still here with you. I can’t wait to get back home with you though,” I sigh, Mick agreeing with me.

“Me too, babe,” Mick murmurs. “As soon as we get home, I’ll get you dinner for a change since you got hurt last time.”

Quickly catching his joke, I look up at his smirking face and laugh. “Asshole!” I exclaim, smiling as it hits me that Mick’s not taking this so hard anymore, thankfully. “You’re gonna run us through a drive-thru, aren’t you?”

Laughing with me now, Mick nods, kissing my cheek. “You know me too well,” at his words, I chuckle. Of course I know him too well; I did marry the one-of-a-kind guy, after all.

[hornsketch]

hey there! ive finally made an art blog! im going to try post more just… stuff, as usually i reserve my art posts for either special occaisions or specifically public-oriented works, and it kinda bums me out to not just have a place to dump my art anymore, so here you go!

(more details and helpful info below!)

who are you?

in hopes of providing some relevant lenses to view my work through, ill give some personal details here. if these lenses dont suit your interpretation of the work, thats alright! view as you please, though i do still think these will always be important context in said viewings.

my name is zelda (she/her) and im a queer jewish 20something who struggles quite a bit with illness both physical and mental.

ive always been kind of enthralled by impressionism and what it really means to use suggestion and spirit as a stronger tool than portrayal and form.

i have a particular draw to fantasy and magical aesthetics, especially the world-building within.

i am a serial overthinker, and tend to see alot of meaning and symbolism in things that plainly do not have them.

while yes i am jewish, my relation to faith is complicated. if you see me type “god” im using it in a turn of phrase with no meaning. if you see me type out “g-d” i am being religious. yes i know thats not how its supposed to work. its meaningful to me.

what will you post?

as previously mentioned, here im trying to make a concerted effort to post a broader variety of things with a wide selection in quality and topic, so unfortunately here the only real uniting theme is going to have to be that i made it. still! to help navigate the space, listed below will be a list of tags i will try to keep to, all of which this post will also be tagged as, since i know tumblr search can be finicky.

#the self and the other

these will be about me, my friends and loved ones, or possibly both

#differing mediums

these pertain to other works or universes, as well as fan content

#harsh tones

this is gonna be the rough stuff. topics will be tagged as needed.

#jaunty doodles

funny business. shenanigans, even.

#lesssfw

listen this blog is for a wide breadth of content, so please if you do not want to, or otherwise should not be seeing mild to moderate nsfw content (i dont rlly plan on posting straight up porn here) block this tag.

wait— is there anywhere you do post more direct nsfw?

maybe, yeah. but before any of that i would like to set some ground rules. these are my spaces for me to share my work for others to see. if you arent a fan of what i post, ill make no attempts to dissuade you from that. your discomfort is your right. I would however request that you dont make your discomfort an issue i am epxected to remedy. ill have no harsh feelings if you arent a fan of my less safe for work content, or even anything it may tangentially relate to, and need to take the necessary steps to curate your experience in those regards. i will be far less than happy if people cant behave because i post content that is not to their personal tastes, within reason.

all of that being said, yes, if you are an adult fan of my other work, feel free to check out @shinyspadetiptail

do you take commissions?

yeah, usually. im not really at the point where i have to close and open them for availability reasons, so shoot me a dm and ill usually be able to give you a response pretty quick on.

price tends to vary by project, and i always set $20 per hour of canvas time as my baseline, but generally simpler stuff like limited detail icons and emojis run in the $20-$30 range, while fully detailed halfbodies tend to run in the $40-$50 range, and fully done fullbodies range more $70-$80. aside from that, backgrounds are a little too context dependent to put a full price estimate on and extra characters can and will cost extra.

usually whatll happen is after laying out the basic price range we’ll talk, and ill thumbnail until we have smth we can agree on, and once weve got an idea of what were going for ill give an estimate that ill try to stick close to, barring any major changes or complications. from then on ill try to send updates whenever i work, and then when im relatively close to finished ill ask for the payment either through paypal or cashapp, after which ill send on the finished piece and any expected variations. in some cases, this may be changed, and payment may be done half at the start, and half when relatively close to completion.

[bathboysblog]

skitty, skitty I got a quickie for you!

1: if you had the chance to meet any of the welcome home chararters who would you want to meet.

2: what would you say to them?

3: and have you ever heard about... charlie the cursed phone guy before?

oh jeez, thats a hard one. i think Clown did a really good job with mimicking that warm and cozy feeling of old children's shows (Mister Rogers especially comes to mind). there seems to be a character for everyone to enjoy.

for me personally? its a mix between Barnaby, Sally and Poppy.

i havent listened to all the audios from the update on the website yet (wah! adhd, have at thee!), but from the snippets i have heard, i just adore their personalities.

for one, Sally is so excessive in the way that she speaks, i love her drama kid character (i had always assumed she was a fire cracker chaos maker, but i was pleasantly surprised with this new perspective. hell, i like it even more than the fandom perceived one!). shes the one ive found my attention being drawn to the most on the site. her voice is bold and confident, full of emotion, and i bet shed have some real good stories to tell. sadly, she wouldnt be able to get me out of my hiding spot from behind the curtain. but hey, painting stage props would be fun! maybe i can even learn some sewing while im up there.

Poppy just seems so domestic, im melting. all of her hobbies are calm and relaxing, which is a stark contrast to miss 'camera, lights, action!' above. she seems like the type of person where you can bond over comfortable silence and never have it be awkward. i would either crack my tooth or shred the roof of my mouth on her seed muffins though, so cant really add baker to the list lol. i myself have always wanted to learn how to sew, and i think she would be the perfect kind of mentor for something like that. someone whos very patient and understanding is admirable to me (even if it makes her somewhat of a pushover).

but, ultimately, my choice goes to Barnaby. im ass when it comes with social cues, and from the audios, so is Wally lol. but, using the little blue man as an example, Barnaby takes Wally's ignorance with endearment. Wally didnt feel out of place in the 'Hotdogs' audio, despite clearly being lost in the conversation. its comforting to know that youll always have a friend that welcomes and accepts you, no matter what the situation will bring. Barnaby's jokes never felt like they were trying to break tense atmospheres, they seemed natural and ordinary. the puns would make me cringe inside, but honestly, what else is the point to having friends? i could easily see myself in Wallys position in the audio, so of course my pick would be his best friend.

overall, like i said before, Welcome Home does a damn near perfect execution of its title. no matter who youre around, youll never feel out of place. i think the audios made that concept much more real than the text descriptions did.

and sadly, no, i have not heard Charlie before. but he scares me.