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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Roads Untraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, pregnancy, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Single and pregnant, you discover a super soldier in the dumpster but he might not be hero you think he is.

[This is a rewrite of a series of the same name which I removed a couple years ago]

Characters: Silverfox!Steve Rogers

Note: I finally did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

‘When he went away The blues walked in and met me Oh, yeah if he stays away Old rocking chair’s gonna get me All I do is pray...’

You sway to the melody as you wipe dry the last plate. You set it in the rack as Etta James’ soulful crooning wafts around the kitchen. Just the simple task of washing the dishes has you out of breath. You can no longer hum along as you’re suddenly light headed with sweat speckled across your brow. Even the breeze drifting in through the open window can’t cool the constant heat brewing within you.

You brace your lower back as you reach for the dish towel and pop open the cupboard. The music drones to silence as the next some in queue loads. Your rounded stomach presses to the counter as you take a mug and dry it inside and out. Strange, you don’t remember the song starting like that; the strange warbling noise much unlike Marvin Gaye’s rich tones.

You set the mug on the shelf and back up. Another noise peaks your attention, too tinny to be a snare. You rub your stomach mindlessly as you sling the cloth over your shoulder. You waddle across the tile to the folding table beneath the window. You tap pause on your phone and the bluetooth speaker goes silent.

Your fingers pick the damp fabric away from your bump. These days you can’t avoid getting soaked. Even as you can’t forget about the burden of your condition, you’re still oblivious to how it gets in the way until it does. You sigh as you listen for another clue.

A pained deep grunt floats up from below. Distant but decisive, another rustle beneath the unexpected noise. You lean over the table, a hand on the ledge as you push the pane higher. You bend, stomach pressed to the speaker, and peer down. You expect another dumpster diver searching for empties to trade in; rather you meet a most unexpected sight.

There is a man in the dumpster, alright, but he isn’t moving. From there, you can’t see very clearly. You squint at the figure strewn among the trash but the zigzag of the fire escape obscures your eye line.

You shouldn’t go and see. Not only is it a lot of effort, but it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be wandering into alleys to check on strangers in dumpsters. You don’t know any good reason someone might be swimming in garbage. Nor do you think they would want to be bothered.

Still, the prickling in your neck urges you to do something. There’s just something so peculiar about the angle of the arm you can see clearer than the rest of the body. At least they’re moving, even if they sound agonized.

You take your phone and untether it from the bluetooth speaker. You unlock it and keep your thumb ready to dial out. You move as quickly as you can, not very, and waddles along the back of the couch into the entry way. You take your keys from the hook near your door and step into your cushy slides.

You turn back the latch and leave the door unlocked behind you. The slides shift on your swollen feet as you rush down to the elevator. God, your back hurts. You try not to lean too far back as it only adds to the pain. You need a belly belt but they’re so darn expensive.

You’re out of breath as you step on and turn to watch the numbers count down. You’re still panting as you reach the lobby and push through the front doors, leaning into the heavy grated iron until it creaks loudly. You clamour down the steps to even ground and your hips pang.

You put your hand under your stomach, trying to lift it and ease the pressure in your hips. You blow out between your lips as you have to slow down. You shuffle across the grass and into the paved lobby. The stink of the trash brings you back to those early days of morning sickness. And afternoon sickness. And night sickness.

You try not to inhale too deeply as you step between the brick buildings. You bring your phone up, ready to hit those three digits in a heartbeat. You should’ve done so already. Even if you do, it’ll take hours for anyone to come out here.

You stop and listen a few steps from the dumpster. You don’t hear anything now. You look up at the sky, dimming towards evening in a mixture of pink and blue, the moon peeking palely through the hue. You grip your phone tight, keys jangling with your movement as you continue forward.

“Hello?” You call out, “is someone in there?” You linger near the corner of the dumpster, the trash reeking in your nostrils, “do you need help?”

No answer. You stare up, wondering how you might see inside. If you weren’t built like a keg, you might be able to see from the lower level of the fire escape but you can’t even make it one rung. You blink and call out again.

“Hello? Are you okay?”

You wait for a response. Silence again. Maybe they found their way out on their own. You huff. So much for all that. All you’ve done is added to the pain in your arches. You turn on your heel and a groan gurgles and plastic crinkles noisily.

You stop again, wavering, and peer back over your shoulder. A hand appears over the tops of the dumpsters edge and grips it. You face the large metal bin as the knuckles strain within the stained brown leather, fingertips poking out nakedly, blood and dirty tinged across the flesh. A long grunt follows as the figure drags himself to look over the top.

“Sir, are you--” you begin, voice catching at the sight of the cowl and the man’s square jaw. The white star on his chest stuns you. It’s him. Everyone knows that uniform, that face, even under his helmet. New York’s own Captain America.

You gape as the super soldier strains and swings himself out of the dumpster with one arm. His other is hanging limply as his feet hit the pavement. His knees crack and buckle. He drops down onto them and hisses.

“Captain America?” You utter dumbly.

He puts his fist to the ground and leans on his arm. He hangs his head and heaves. He drags a leg forward, planting his foot, and makes himself stand. He pushes his shoulders back and winces, reaching to cradle his dangling arm.

“Steve,” he rasps, “goddamn.”

You don’t expect the obscenity. Not from him. He leans against the dumpster and turns his chin up. He gnashes his teeth as he grips his arm and jerks, moving the heavy bin with his effort. The pop of his shoulder is sickening as he growls tightly. He stomps his foot and as he shakes out the arm he just put back into place.

He reaches up and peels off his cowl as he puts his head straight. He looks at you as he wipes the streak of blood from lip to chin. His blond locks are streaked silver and his face is lined. He looks much older than the magazine covers and the TV screens. The magic of editing, right?

He swipes the sweaty hair from his forehead and huffs.

“Steve,” you rest your phone on your stomach, “are you okay?”

He pushes himself away from the dumpster and puffs, “I’m fine. Just... a hiccup.”

You stare at him. He looks tired and worn. You believe him when he says he’s okay. He's a super soldier and the world has seen his many feats. Yet he looks completely hollow.

“Are you sure? I could call someone or...” you step forward and point to the slash that borders chest and shoulder, “you should clean that out, shouldn’t you?”

He looks down and grimaces, “had worse. I got comms. HQ doesn’t care about a few scratches.”

He goes to step forward and stumbles slightly. He snarls and kicks his foot into the gravel. He wiggles his knee and bends to rub the joint.

“I...” your mouth opens and closes. This isn’t the man you’ve seen in the media. He's not smiling and golden and shining. Still, he’s the Captain. “I live above,” you gesture upward, “I could help... or maybe you can just... sit for a little bit. Get yourself straight?”

He looks at you. As if for the first time. His forehead smooths as the tension eases from his jaw. His gaze slowly crawls down to his stomach and you see the dimple in his cheek.

“Your husband okay with that? I’m a bit of a mess,” his tone is lighter as he fixes his grip on his cowl.

“Oh no, I don’t have--” you chew your lip and look at the brick wall, “it’s just me. But I have first aid kit and learned to stitch in summer camp. I think I can still remember how.”

He glances around and nods, “got a back door?”

“Yeah, it’s... past you,” you nod in his direction.

He pivots stiffly and cranes to see around the dumpster. You near him and your keys jingle again. You follow him to the metal door with the glass window and you shove the key in and twist. You pull it open a few inches. It’s heavier than the front door. He grabs it and wrenches it all the way back.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “There’s an elevator.”

“Hm, fewer people see me, the better,” he sniffs as the door clanks behind him.

“It might take me a while,” you warn, “I’m slow.”

“What floor. I’ll meet you,” he offers.

“Sure, it’s three.”

“Number?”

“310.”

“I’ll find it,” he states and marches towards the stair sign.

You go to catch the elevator, stewing in disbelief on your ascent. You step off and continue on to your apartment. He’s already there. He stands with his hand on the frame, looking over his shoulder as you waddle down the hall towards him.

“It’s unlocked,” you say.

He opens it and waits for you. You thank him as you enter and he follows. He locks it and lingers behind you. You put your hand to the wall as you slip off your slides. He gently lays his cowl on the corner table and bends to unlace his boots. You hang the keys on the hook and place your phone on the small table.

He leaves his dirtied boots on the mat and limps forward. You stand in the open doorway of the living room and peek back at him. He looks around reluctantly.

“Please, sit down,” you insist and wave through the doorway before you pass through.

“I...” he begins and you hear his uneven gait down the hallway. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.”

“I have a steam cleaner,” you assure. “Sit, I’ll get the kit.”

He stares, his eyes once more scanning the space. Does he think this is a trip? That you’re some covert agent who all too conveniently found him? That’s absurd. Look at you.

You shrug off that ridiculous idea and cross to the kitchen. You open several drawers before you remember it’s in the bathroom. Of course. Your brain likes to play games these days. You grab the metal tin from under the sink and return to Steve.

He pulls off his gloves and balls them on the side table next to the couch. You come around the other side of the couch and sit, leaving lots of space between you. You squeeze the kits as you’re once more out of breath.

“You okay?” He turns the question on you.

“I’m not the one bleeding. Just pregnant,” you smile.

You balance the kit on your stomach as you lean back. You sanitize a needle and weave it with surgical thread. You put that aside and fish out an alcoholic swap. You shift the kit aside and push on the back of the couch as you try to sit forward. You shake and he helps you, a humbling assistance.

“First,” you turn to him, “we’ll see how deep it is,” you tear open the swap, “can I...”

“One sec,” he dips his fingers into the fabric and tears the sleeve, renting the fabric like tissue. His arm is thick and well-toned despite the years. A centurion like him can’t complain for the shape he’s in, even battered. “I can do it myself.”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be easy.”

You reach as he angles towards you. You gingerly dab around the gash and he tenses. He takes a sharp breath, “you don’t have to be so gentle. I can handle pain.”

“Right,” you work more diligently.

He’s quiet as you tend to him, picking out gravel and some metal slivers. You worry that you might miss some. You lean in closer and he steels himself at your proximity.

“So,” he clears his throat, “just you and...” the kid?”

“We all make mistakes,” you chuckle. You can only laugh about it, as scared as you are.

“Mmm,” he flinches as you sweep down the length of the cut. It’s not that deep, mostly superficial.

“Let me put some steri-strips on, shouldn’t need the stitches, ” you say as you sift through the kit with one hand, “if you’re hungry, I have leftovers. You like chicken?”

You don’t know why you’re offering. Maybe it’s because you owe him. Like everyone in the city. It’s your chance to give back to the hero who gave so much. Or maybe it’s because you’re so damn lonely talking to your own stomach.

“I should go,” he insists as you place a strip across the cut.

“Up to you,” you say, “I don’t mind either way, but I’m not going to chase Captain America out of ym apartment.”

He doesn’t say anything. You finish dressing his wound and gather up the wrappers and all. You crumple it in one hand and rock yourself to stand. You’re overly aware of him watching you. You touch your stomach and rub it, soothing your nerves. You find him watching the movement of your hand.

“You must be pretty far along,” he says.

“Six months. Chicken tortellini, if you want. I was gonna reheat some. I haven’t eaten since work.”

“Work?” He frowns and stands, moving better than before. “Should you be?”

“I’m at a desk. It’s nothing. HR got me some ergonomic stuff. Nothing compared to what you do.”

You put away the kit and toss the garbage. You wash your hands before you search out the container of pasta in the fridges. You sense him behind you, just in the wide archway that peers into the kitchen. You reach into the cupboard you left open and take the single plate that isn’t in the rack.

“So, you want some?” You ask.

He’s silent with contemplation, the shift of his weight creaks in the floor, “I appreciate it, yes, please.”

“I might have something you can change into,” you say. You wonder why you’re doing all this. Maybe it’s that maternal instinct kicking in. “The father, before he took off, left a few things.” You peek over your shoulder, “he was a bit smaller than you.”

He shrugs then winces at the careless gesture. “Do you mind if I wash up before I eat? I smell like garbage. I don’t wanna overstep--”

“Go ahead, it’ll take a while to warm this up,” you say.

Another long lull. He taps his fingers on the wall and inhales deep enough for you to hear, “promise, I’ll get out of your hair after dinner.”

“Please, take your time,” you say as you put the tortellini in a glass pan to rebake. He backs away and you sense his hesitation, “oh, down the hall, to the left of the bedroom at the end.”

“Thanks,” he intones, “oh, uh, just realised, you know who I am...”

Your brows pop up and you stop before you can put the pan in the stove. You look back at him and give your name. He nods.

“Pretty,” he comments, “also, it’s just Steve, not Captain.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #roads untraveled #silverfox au #au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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secretintoxxx · 4 months

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idk if im using this blog anymore

i had made a new blog and it got snapped within a couple of days. im probably gonna abandon this one. do not try to find me.

vv old pinned under the break vv

hii, i’m in my 20s and use she/it pronouns. im nonbinary… ftnbtf… just a silly girl. i’m 4’11 and my IQ is 36DDD/F

things you’ll find here: intox (mostly weed/alc), hypno (including flashing/spirals), age gap, faux/cest, detrans/misgendering, cnc/r*** fantasy/dub-con, free use, and a lot more

if you don’t like it, just block me 😘

minors, ageless/blank blogs, and pedos fuck off

i’m a sub w/ a bit of a bratty streak and id love to learn to let a more dominant side out with the right person (who probably isnt you) - i am not looking for a dom or partner.

this is a side blog and i cannot follow back, sorry!

dms closed to non-mutuals & i can refuse a response at any time and will block as i see fit <3 and i will not contact you outside of tumblr. however asks and anons and threats are always on and encouraged!!

i use the traffic light system in DMs <3 🟢/🟡/🔴 please respect it!

minors dni, everything rebloged/posted is done with the intent of it being fantasy or consensual. i do not condone the majority of what i post being done irl.

LIMITS: mentioning weight in any way, scat, harcore sn*ff/g*re, race kinks, ageplay (it varies/depends) <- i’m sure theres more but these are some of the main ones. (will update, probably)

DNI/I WILL BLOCK YOU: minors, “maps”/pedos, ageless/blank blogs, racists/actual misogynists/transphobes/bigots of any kind, trump supporters, i just generally find you annoying idk

i will post photos if i want to, not because its demanded of me. <3

#dixies thoughts #dixie answers #me #tasks #pleasepraise.me #important #fave #<- important/good tags to check

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catboybiologist · 1 year

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Hi! I’m CatboyBiologist.

Formerly a femboy, now a trans woman just starting HRT, and a PhD student in molecular biology. I started using this online persona as a fun, shitposty way to explore gender a few years ago. I post selfies (generally sfw, but somewhat sexy, so minors and ppl who don’t like that have been warned), rambles about science, tutorials and advice from the stuff I’ve learned by being a femboy in the past, nature pictures, stuff about the ocean, my adorable grumpy little tortoise, and unsolicited opinions on random nerdy topics. Any pronouns are fine. I don’t plan to socially transition for a while, and still present as a man most of the time, so I’m used to whatever you wanna use for me (for now, I’ll update this if that changes). Please send me pictures of your pets or other cute animals in your life!

As a scientist, I’m also documenting my transition! This google sheet will be updated at least monthly. I also have additional metrics I’m keeping to myself, and pictures that go with this, but I’m not sharing them publicly yet. Keep in mind that this is just one person’s experience with HRT, and may not represent universal trends!

Adding a little something here, bc I think it was an interesting bit a writing: if you want to see me respond to a transphobe about what "biologically female" means, here's a thing I wrote about it. CW for transphobia and discussion, obviously.

Also, if any of my measurements look weird, its entirely possible I fucked up. Let me know if anything looks off!

Here’s some of my favorite pre-HRT pictures:

If you want to see more of my pre-HRT selfies, browse the “femboy” tag on my blog!

And as of this writing, I’m only 2 days after the start of HRT, so here’s a picture with my tortoise that’s technically post-HRT (but with 0 time for actual changes):

If you want to see my future post-HRT selfies, browse the “trans selfie” tag on my blog!

Also here's another really cute picture and fanart of my tortoise by @whalesharkcat:

I have affectionately given my tortoise the title of The Grumpus.

I also wrote a couple of tutorials and general vibes about being a femboy before I started HRT:

Sometimes I make shitposts of myself, I don’t take myself too seriously:

This includes the way I came out on tumblr:

And here’s an overly serious, long ramble about trans thoughts and things that I wrote shortly afterwards:

Later addition: Someone asked how I take selfies, so I wrote a quick and dirty guide with some tips on how I do so in response to their ask:

Oh yeah and apparently I was a 196 microcelebrity? I never to thought I was popular enough for that but apparently some people do 🤷‍♀️. So uh, hi 196 tags, I'm abusing you for my pinned post LOL

As for terminology, I personally do think of myself as a “man who is becoming a woman” as opposed to having always been a woman. If that doesn’t resonate with your experience, I totally get that! But that’s why I freely call pre-HRT me a femboy, while still calling post-HRT me a trans woman. I’m also keeping the blog name as CatboyBiologist for the forseeable future, because at this point, Catboy just seems like a gender neutral term to me.

I’m also trying to put together a script for a podcast regarding how studying biology influenced my perspective on sex and gender- lmk if there’s any interest in that! It’s probably gonna be way too long and indulgent but oh well.

So uh. Yeah. I don’t end these types of things well. Byeeeeee

#196 #r196 #r/196 #rule #/r/196 #trans #transitioning #trans woman #trans femme #tortoise #tort #russian tortoise #trans tutorial #trans tummy tuesday #transgender #trans tumblr #trans selfie #trans journal

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silkscreaming · 8 months

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I made a volume 10 trimax vash cosplay for MAGfest and I am SO proud of how it came out :) Some process stuff below! Warning for image and text heavy.

Truthfully this cos is only about 85% complete—I’d purchased a bunch of hardware to really go in on a volume accurate version of his undersuit and belts, but simply ran out of time before the con. It was the first cosplay I’ve sewn since 2017 and the first wig styling I’ve done since 2020, so I’m not gonna beat myself up too much!

(This is all purse hardware off Etsy and some buttons from M&J trim)

This was my first time ever making a muslin mock-up, but I knew it was going to be necessary to get the coat to lay the way I wanted it to. I really wanted to try and create proportions that elongated the legs/torso and widened the shoulders by placing the coat tail splits appropriately and raising up the shoulders with some padding. And of course arm and leg details that I’ll get to someday lol.

I created two mock-ups. One of basic muslin that helped me go from an existing pre-bought pattern to something more Vash-shaped, then a second one on a slightly sturdier scrap fabric with my finalized torso proportions with padding so I could accurately pattern out the sleeves and collar.

I was tracing my pattern pieces onto newsprint and vellum as I went, so once all of those were finalized, it was time to cut my fabric! I used a heavy cotton twill from B&J fabrics and two kinds of fusible interfacing from Mood (I’m spoiled by being local to the fashion district these days). A smarter person would have bought a thinner fabric to line the inner torso with, but I did not feel like getting that complicated with my first ever muslin-drafted AND lined project, so I simply cut double of every pattern piece in order to create a lining.

Sleeves were done by interfacing and cutting into a top panel, carefully snipping at the cutout portions, ironing and fabritacking in place, and then top stitching the whole piece to the main sleeve. I later added some leather backing squares and interfacing behind the larger eyelets for aesthetic while keeping the ventilation in tact. Ideally in the future I'll also add a strip of fabric to the gun arm that creates a slight bunching effect since that sleeve is a little more ruffled over the cuff. Photos below also include three shoulder pads pinned together on each shoulder, but I ended up forgetting not using them on my final wear.

Unfortunately at this point I was approaching con time, so I started cutting some corners that I made easily replaceable for future upgrades. The coat tabs are just painted craft foam cut to the size of the buttons, tacked in place where the button pierces through the tab and where it wraps around the edge of the front panel. The straps that attach to the lapel and wrap under the arms also were just decorated with some silver trim instead of hardware, and I skipped the side button panels at his hips for pattern-making simplicity and time. They'll be added later! I'd also love to do some weathering, but don't think I can quite bring myself to riddle the coat tails with bullet holes as some people do haha.

Gun arm attachment was also a quick and dirty addition, just some vinyl trim on eva foam attached with contact cement and a decorative button. First time working with contact cement somehow, but I look forward to also being able to upgrade this at a later date to a more accurate shape with the full belt attachments!

I was also hoping to update the shoes a bit by making some boot covers for them and rub-n-buffing the soles to disguise the platform a bit, but I love my pick for the cleat-look that Vash has! Some good ol' Demonias in classic vash fashion :)

Last but not least: The Wig. My pride and joy.

I got lucky enough to nab an Arda sale, I think right before Halloween, and picked up the Morpheus lace front in black, along with some extra wefts in pale blonde. (I also bought a whole separate pale blonde Morpheus wig, boldly thinking I could swing a normal trimax vash wig lol. It made for a convenient Eriks wig in the mean time.)

Since I was aiming for the end of volume 10 post-Wolfwood death look, I started by trying on the wig, roughly tracing out my hairline, then gently unweaving that portion of black in order to re-ventilate it with blonde.

After I replaced that whole strip of plucked hair, I tried on again to finalize where I needed to ventilate to cover my own hairline, and completed my outline with both blonde and brown-black wefts (i had them on hand lol). All in all, I ventilated more than 4 square inches of blonde, and at least a solid centimeter extension of the black hairline across the whole front of the wig. Probably close to 30 hours of work in the ventilating alone, but I am a little slow since I haven't ventilated in a few years and didn't keep clear track of time.

If there's one thing I should be used to by now about Arda wigs, they are THICK. There is zero teasing in this wig. None. Just got2b, a blowdryer, and a prayer. And a good load of bobby pins. The wig was also sadly a last minute hotel room mad dash, and I do hope to restyle it under less duress, but I do think I successfully achieved the Trimax swoop and am very proud of it! It was unbelievably windy on the walk from our hotel room to MAGfest, so the photos in the start of this post show a bit more droop than my initial styling, but I think I'll be able to touch things up next wear.

And of course, shoutout to my partner for gifting me the official glasses for Christmas :) And thank you to my roommates who barely saw me for a month and a half except for when I needed help with a hem lol.

All in all, I am unbelievably proud of this cosplay, I can't wait to put some more love into it and wear it again!

#cosplay #trigun cosplay #magfest

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mlichaelm · 1 year

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the QSMP is my new hyperfixation and thus, i’ve been dedicated to learning as much Spanish as i can! as well as learning all i can about the different cultures on the server too!! i was inspired by @punkyv ‘s list of words they learned, so i’m gonna make one of my own and update it from time to time to keep track of everything new!!! some of them i knew already, but i added them anyway!

keep in mind most of my translations are googled, cross-referenced with the subtitles, explained by the smp members, or gathered by either my loose knowledge of Romantic languages as well as context clues! any edits i make to existing spellings/descriptions are from users in the comments :) hope this helps!

(update: no longer pinned post)

Eso Brad - reference to a popular latino meme, used ironically after doing something bad or dumb

Mamadisimo - slang phrase (also a meme reference i believe?) used to describe being strong at something, i would equate this with maybe calling someone a Chad?

Tripita - inside joke from Roier’s community!

Anda - a slang term used to express and/or emphasize various reactions, including surprise, disbelief, admiration, and irony

Culero - asshole

Basta/Que basta - “enough!” or “stop!”

No mames - crude, similar to anda in the way it’s used to express disbelief; it means “no way!” or “you’ve gotta be kidding me!”

Pruébalo - try it

Ya tu sabes - you know/you already know

Lo siento - i’m sorry

Me arrepiento de ello - i regret it

Pendejo - dumbass, idiot

Cabrón - bastard

Cómo se dice - how do you say—

Hombre - technically “man” but used informally can essentially mean “dude”

Hijo/hija - son and daughter respectively

Mijo/mija - contraction of “my son” and “my daughter”

Hijito/mijito/hijita/mijita - more affectionate way to say “son” or “daughter”, since the suffix “-ito” means small!

Playa - beach

Mi amor - my love

Gracias - thank you

Muy - very

Peligroso - dangerous

Ayuda - help

Agua - water

Computadora - computer

Aquí - here

Qué - what

Mala/malo - bad/evil

Soy triste - i’m sad (connotation of being a negative or pathetic person)

Estoy triste - i’m sad (connotation of being sad right now, in the moment, rather than sadness as a state of mind)

Seguir - follow

Pato/pata - duck (surprised i didn’t add this earlier, actually)

Gato/gata - cat

#qsmp #qsmpblr

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en-bitch · 5 months

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About me

+18 blog put your age in your bio/pinned if you are going to follow

You can call me Bunny, En-Bitch, Enby, Puppy (once you get to know me and we vibe) slut

Any other names/titles ask beforehand, rule of thumb, Gender neutral and feminine yes, masculine absolutely not (this includes master and dude, you may well call everyone dude regardless of gender I don't care, when I vomit because I was called dude it will be on you)

<3 :3

Non-binary / Bisexual

(Non Binary in a way where I'm kinda of a girl but not a girl but use she/her and you can call me a girl)

They/Them or She/Her

Switch but like 90/10 sub/domme, if I know you there's more of a chance I'll domme you but it's not gonna happen all that often

This is an 18+ blog if you intend on following me please have your age in your bio (or pinned about me) otherwise you will be blocked

Ownership

"I am a slut. I love being a slut. Being talked down to reminds me what a good slut I am. I want to be the best slut possible"

Last Orgasm: 24/09/24

Asks/DMs

You are more than welcome to ask me stuff/ DM me just be respectful, pay attention to the limits below and bear in mind I'm not always the fastest to respond to things

You are allowed to get horny in my DMs, although maybe start with a 'hi' at least

Ask lists

Kinks

Petplay (I'm a good bunny, sometimes a puppy)

Voicekink (if you have a nice voice you will be able to get me to do pretty much anything)

Spanking

Bondage

Roboplay (blame Tumblr)

Being ordered around

Bratting (sometimes, usually I'm a good pet)

Punishment

Degradation

Mild humiliation

Roleplay

Tentacles

Monster fucking

CNC

Edging/Denial

Overstimulation

If it's not on here but isn't on the Limits list I'm probably ok with it

Limits

Foot stuff (less of a limit and more just don't really care for it personally)

Scat/Vomit

Detrans (Again, no TERFs or Transphobes)

DNI

This blog is +18, please stay away if you are not

Please also stay away if you are a TERF, Transphobe, Bigot, or an awful individual

These might get updated later if I need to add anything to the list

#about myself #queer nsft #hornyposting #nonbinary #bisexual #t4t nsft #bd/sm switch #enby bunny #transgender

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dragongirltongue · 10 months

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New Pinned post <3

Hi there, the name is Zelda, or one of like, 20 other names that may or may not be listed somewhere around here. If you know a name I go by that isn't findable here don't use it. <3

I'm bigender which is made up of girl and fem6oy, as such I use she/her and sometimes he/him pronouns when I'm feeling fem6oy enough <3

I'm in my 30s, not getting more specific than that until I decide it's not true enough to change it, don't try to find my exact age as I don't like sharing that information publicly, I don't even update it on my birthday <3

I'm a polyamorous bisexual voraphile freak and if you're over 18 you're welcome to talk to me about how much of a freak I am. I love to flirt and encourage it. Also happy to share my Other Blog with anyone interested, again as long as you're of age. <3

I'm a film graduate and currently working on doing something with that experience as well as working on a superhero comic and a 2D zelda style game. Feel free to bug me about any of those I love to discuss writing and media and want to encourage media literacy. <3

I'm also an ex-jehovahs witness and as a result I'm hugely into the holiday season in a very against my old god kinda way. Also big into sinning <3

Also I'm like, a dragon in probably an otherkin/thetadelta kinda way, like, it's core to who I am and how I understand myself so yeah. Despite this my fursona is a fox, the dragon in my icon is literally me <3

I also draw sometimes and when I do it'll be posted to @dragongirldrawings but always reblogged here too.

Also I'm a member of a plural system, feel free to check out the rest of the system over here @haven-sys <3

Further on the identity weirdness I'm an imaginary friend for the person who used to inhabit this body, they've been gone for like, over 20 years so it's not really relevant but I have started embracing my nature as a fictional creation, it's comforting.

Btw, if one of my posts containing my typing quirk ends up on your dash I take no responsibility for it. I use it in posts that are for me only and if they happen to resonate with others that's their choice to reblog.

I had intended to set tipping up on my blog for a while but adhd caused me to never get around to it sooo, homebrew tip button on my original posts. Feel free and outright encouraged to steal this idea <3

So yeah that's me, hiii I love you all <3

this post is specifically a6out tum6lr user Zelda dragongirltongue

DNI list under the read more.

lmao imagine if I actually made one of those finally, that's how you'd know I've been replaced with an evil clone or something.

That being said if you're looking at my blog to send me an ask or dm about what someone gets off to please understand unless they're actively hurting someone I rly don't care. I have a lot of ignored and blocked anons about this.

This goes double if the person you're trying to alert me to is trans femme, we don't play that game here, especially given that I know I've been targetted for things as simple as engaging in vore the wrong way for some people or whatever.

Like, I just want to make it clear I rly don't give a fuck what another adult does in the bedroom, I rly don't care if the bedroom happens to include their blog and I rly don't care if they like to flirt about it with other adults on this website.

Also if your pinned post is a callout for anyone about anything it's likely to set off my paranoia around you, which is to say I will not be able to trust you if this is the case even if it's for someone who's actually a danger to a community, like, actively.

Like, this ain't a moral stance or anything, it's a mental health thing. I see that you want to make your first point of contact into a crosshair on someone else I'm gonna be scared you're gonna aim at me next even if it's completely reasonable that you'd never find anything objectionable with me. It scares me and I'm gonna spend every interaction walking on egg shells around you cos what if you're digging for dirt, like, I got no way of knowing.

Anyway as the opening joke implies I don't see any worth in having a list of things to not interact with me over cos the lived experience on this planet is so full of nuance and I've formed deem friendships with people who'd probably have avoided me if I had a DNI and they cared about it.

I think DNIs are dumb but this feels like a space to talk about some general limits on what I'm gonna put up with on this website. I'm just here for a good time with other freaks, anything else is optional. If you want to drag me into your discourse at this point then I guess this is whre I ask you to Do Not Interact. To anyone else, I love yall <3

If you've been directed here after sending an ask my way please apologize for wasting my time [here]

tl;dr DNIs are dumb but don't drag me into your personal grievances with others.

this post is still specifically a6out tum6lr user Zelda dragongirltongue [tip]

#6aaah #last updated june 4 #adding my tip 6utton on here too

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mishy-mashy · 4 months

Note

You will do a character/personality analysis of Shinomori, Banjo and En?

I already did some analyses of these guys, but I think I'm gonna put down this masterlist of what I can pull off the top of my head so far

In relation to posts I made, got asked about, or reblogs about the vestiges and analysis/reading comprehension, from what I can remember,

(Edit: this is a list I'm updating as time goes. Does not include the AFO posts I make [I also like that guy])

En being a product of the time he grew up in

En being cut in half by AFO and not OFA

This ask about if I think En has an anxiety disorder

En and Shinomori's vol 41 illustrations

Shinomori being cute and also some character stuff

Shinomori and Hood should've been the same person

Shinomori was a weirdo

Shinomori and Bruce can be related (appearance and similar character/habits)

This ask about Shinomori being Bruce's nephew

Banjo is a Vigilante, not a Pro Hero

Banjo is where AFO realized taking OFA needed more

Banjo word vomit from an ask asking if he wears a clown mask over his problems

Kudo's really kind

Kudo and Lady Nagant

(Extra point to Kudo-Nagant parallels- THEIR QUIRKS. When they used them, they shot bullets FROM THEIR ARMS and could make the bullet go WHERE THEY WANTED. Nagant by skill, Kudo by Ability)

Kudo, OFA, and "San-San-Kudo" symbolism

Kudo and Bakugo look alike

Kudo and Bakugo resemble each other in s7 too

Kudo and Bruce have eyebags

Kudo smiles like a muppet

Kudo makes funny expressions

Kudo is so short he tucks his pants in

The temptation to write about Kudo knowing nothing about babies and getting one thrown on him in the Resistance era + opening paragraphs

AFO hating Kudo while also being scared shitless

Me over a Kudo cameo

How Kudo fell when Yoichi died, and Kudo and Bruce's different reactions

The foreshadowing of why AFO can't hate strongly, with reference to Kudo

Just a mention in tags about what if Kudo was AFO's soulmate in a Soulmate AU

The Resistance were squatters

Me realizing Kudo's anti-AFO group is actually nameless

Bruce is hot but also has great character

This ask about Bruce's smile

The contrast between the only two times we see Bruce smile (as of ch 424)

Baby u r my angel (Bruce) + tags about being in Bruce's shoes

Some pics of Bruce at bad angles (+ he got the Ojiro treatment)

Me in the tags over Bruce fanart

Why Yoichi can be considered the older twin

Me in the tags when Yoichi shows up as a vestige in s7 ep 12

Some Yoichi-Midoriya parallels

AFO seeing Yoichi in Mineta of all people

Me mentioning people should consider Yoichi, AFO, and their mom in a red light district AU setting

3 reasons for why All Might couldn't find information on the first Three (Yoichi, Kudo, Bruce)

Me going buckwild over a Yoichi and Kudo gif and breaking tag containment

Yoichi + Kudo to Midoriya + Bakugo parallels in the [holding out a hand] scenes

Even as a vestige, Yoichi couldn't look AFO in the eye until Kudo was with Yoichi

The first Three's appearances in s7 ep 13

S7 ep 13 and Midoriya punches AFO with the power of rainbows, right after Yoichi and Kudo appear

*COUGH* Kudo Yoichi Bruce dynamic reblog *COUGH*

Me in the tags looking for rare content about the first Three

Me in the tags over the parallels of Orpheus and Eurydice, to Yoichi, AFO, and Kudo

Me asking if OC-centric fics exist, set in the times of vestiges

Chronological events based off AFO's chase of the past vestiges

Why OFA users are good bases for High-Ends

When the vestiges are smiling without any stressors. Just. Smiling. Oh my gosh-

A point in this post about how determination to beat AFO was what remained of the vestiges

Reblog of post that showed Bruce was crying when he fought AFO

Reblog of a post where Midoriya manages to kill 7 dead people (the vestiges)

Me in the tags wishing Ultra Analysis had pages of the other vestiges

Me in the tags about Horikoshi having detailed backstories for the vestiges and not giving them

My pinned post, which involves a masterlist for my BNHA OC fic stuff (all involve the vestiges, and set in their time periods)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

Follow You Anywhere 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You're online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: I couldn't help myself.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So... this is what it looks like today?" You aim your camera at the sky outside your window, "sorry, the screen is kinda in the way."

You let out a nervous chuckle and flip the camera to yourself. You make a silly face. You were never overly fond of your image on the screen but the vlogs help. Like a little diary, mostly for yourself. You and your seven followers on Insta.

You bat your lashes and fix the clip in your hair, "oh, I got this free. Yeah, I bought a new hair oil and they threw this in the bag." You let your thoughts run wild from your tongue. You found a journal too daunting, the blank lines leaving you just as empty. This is easier. "Anyway, I shouldn't have spent the money to begin with."

You give another splintered laugh. The one you let out when you're anxious, or scared, or happy, or even mad. You bite your lip and catch yourself in your digitized reflection. You stop and turn your camera to your bedroom.

"Today, I'm gonna clean this mess. Me and you guys together."

You scour the room with the lens. Your laundry is piled on the floor and you have a stack of books you need to put on the shelf. It isn't the worst it's been but it's getting cluttered.

"But first, we'll have breakfast, can't start the stream on an empty stomach," you chirp and nearly drop the phone, "oops, uh..." You fix your grip and check the number in the corner. You have one viewer; on a good day, it's three, most days, it's just you talking to the void.

You go into the kitchen, just down the short hall from your bedroom, opening into your living room. You go to the counter and prop up the phone so the camera is on you again. You tap your fingers and hum.

"What should we have for breakfast?" You ask. You don't feel as crazy talking to yourself even if there's really no one watching. "Oo, French toast. Gotta use up the eggs."

You go to the fridge and pull out the eggs and the milk. You bring them back to the counter, shuffling around for a bowl, a whisk, and the cinnamon.

You mix up your ingredients and dip the bread, one piece at a time. You put on a skillet and fry up the slices, presenting a stack of three to the camera. You smile and dust some icing sugar over the top.

“Probably shouldn't have all this sugar for breakfast,” you shrug at the camera, “alright, quick break…”

You put the stream onto the ‘back soon’ page and take your plate to the small foldout table against the wall. You're not a fan of eating on camera. You finish and rinse up before snatching your phone up again.

You return to your bedroom and put the phone on a middle shelf and flip the stream back to live. Still that one viewer…

“Anyway, I'm back,” you wave at the lens.

You hesitate, looking around as you stand straight and spin. Cleaning, right. Before you can set to work, the phone dings.

A message?

You go back to your phone and squint at the chat bubble floating up.

‘Looked delicious too.’

“It was,” you agree with a grin, “thanks.”

‘Don't mean the toast.’

The next message has you blinking. Your nape burns. They can't mean… you clear your throat and giggle.

“Well, let's get started,” you back up and clap your hands, “you know, I've been so carried away with work. This place is a pigsty.”

You sit on the floor and sort through the clothes. You toss them into the basket as you sit in silence. You stop yourself and glance at the phone.

“How about some tunes?”

You walk on your knees to your bedside and turn on your bluetooth speaker. You go to your phone and find a playlist before pulling the stream back to full screen. As you do, you hear a noise you've never heard before.

‘BourbonBear has tipped.’ Huh? Really?

“Oh, thanks, er, BourbonBear,” you giggle around the name, “how nice. Maybe one day I can afford a proper camera for this, huh?”

You smile and go back to the dirty clothes. You quickly ball up a pair of panties and shove them in the basket. You carry on until they're all untangled.

You move on and tidy your desk, bending underneath to gather up a few loose pens. You make your way around the bedroom, putting away books, fixing the blankets on the bed, and straightening the little figurines on the shelf above the bed.

You grab the stick vacuum and suck up the dirt and proclaim your task done. It took a lot longer than you thought. It's after eleven. The one viewer is still there.

“Whew, okay, I'm gonna get myself washed up and go to the park. Maybe I'll post that later,” you give a thumbs up next to your head as you talk to the phone, “thank you.”

You end the stream and let out a sigh. Your videos aren't much and you doubt they're very interesting but it's like venting for you. Almost like having an invisible friend. You think you will take some pictures of the flowers to share.

🧸

You take your usual path through the park. The walks help you unwind your worries. You try to come after work at least a couple days during the week and both days on the weekend. You find the mindlessness of the routine to be calming.

The deeper you get into the wooded length of the path, you slow to admire the birds in the branches and the critters crawling in the brush. You take out your phone and snap a few photos of a blue jay before it wings away shyly. You smile and flip the cam, smiling as you take a goofy selfie. You can add that to your post.

The path winds ahead and you follow it in the din, listening to the river just down the incline to your left and the tweeting from the sky. You lift your face and inhale the woodsy scent. The sudden crack of a twig startles you and you spin to face the noise. There's no one there. Sometimes you forget other people are free to just walk on through.

You chuckle at yourself and continue on. The path leads out to a suburban street where you like to look at the houses. They're much more spacious and pretty than your grimy brick apartment building.

You come out from the shade of the trees and wander along the avenue. There's a mailbox painted to look like the house it stands before and a little nook for second hand children's books to be borrowed through the neighbourhood. Sometimes you picture yourself living in one of those houses though you don't think it could ever truly be.

As you crane your head, you sense a shadow in your peripheral. You're walking a bit slow. You sidle to the side to get out of the way of the other pedestrian. When no one passes, you look back. No one.

You must be imagining things. You shrug and plod along. You're already thinking of what kind of tea you'll have when you get in.

🧸

You sit down with your mug of ginger citrus tea and set to editing your post. You add a light filter to the photos as you shuffle through them on your laptop. The process is slow as the computer is nearly five years old now and chuffing on its 4GB drive. You get to the selfie you snapped, a stop.

You lean in to get a better glimpse of the background. It's fuzzy but there's a figure just over your shoulder. How could that be? You looked and there was no one there. That's so strange.

You stare as a chill courses through you. You're thankful you hadn't put your earphones in. You wouldn't have heard whoever it was and they may have even snuck up on you. Or maybe it's just a trick of the light.

You hit ‘post’ and try to shake off the foreboding. It's nothing. You're being silly. Besides, you're home and safe now. Next time, you'll be more alert.

A message pops up. You stare at the dot over the chat bubble. You tap with your thumb and bring up the DMs.

'Stream tonight?' BourbonBear asks.

You tilt your head. You already did some today. You're tired and want to lie down and enjoy your time off. You type back 'sorry, not tonight. tomorrow <3' and another notification vibrates. A comment on your latest post.

'Pretty sweater', also from BourbonBear. You heart their comment and leave a thanks below.

You flip back to the selfie. You can't really see your sweater in the picture, just the scalloped knitting of the collar. Well, you suppose it does look cute. You put your phone down and leave it on your desk. That's enough Insta for today.

🧸

You time your shopping trip for the least busy hour. It's early and the store is almost empty except for employees stacking bread on shelves or wandering listlessly around the deli. You have your phone in the basket of the cart, aimed at you as you roll it along slowly and check your list.

The stream is just as empty. It's only just started but you don't expect too many people to be up at this hour. You stop and grab a loaf of sourdough, checking the date before showing it to the lens and putting it in the cart. You smile and announce the next item.

"Strawberries... you know I was thinking I might get raspberries instead," you say, catching the eye of one of the yawning employees. You must seem like a weirdo. It's why you typically don't film in public.

As you roll around to the fruit, you notice the count change. One viewer. You choose a basket of raspberries and show those. You see a message float up; morning.

You smile and return the greeting softly and place the berries down carefully beside your phone. You need yogurt to go with the berries.

You work down the list, making some substitutes as you tick off each item. You linger in the ice cream section a bit too long and talk yourself out of a gallon of rocky road. You lean on the handle of the cart and smile down at the lens.

"Going to check out," you say, "see you all later."

All? There's still just the one. You end the stream and take your phone out of the basket.

You wheel around to checkout and line up at the only open till. You put your items up as you greet the cashier with a smile. She seems tired as she gives a dull response.

As you put the yogurt on the belt, you sense someone join the queue behind you. You glance over as a large man stands only feet away. He's tall and burly and staring at you. Maybe he heard you talking to your audience, or he would think, yourself. You continue to unload your groceries.

"Never tried those," he comments as you take out a box of strawberry Pocky.

You pause and hold them up, chuckling nervously, as you do.

"Pretty good," you answer, "I eat way too many."

You notice the man doesn't have a basket or a cart. That realisation needles under your skin. Maybe he's just getting lotto or smokes?

"You like sweet stuff."

"Too much," you squeak even though it doesn't sound like a question.

He just stares, not saying a word. You swallow tightly and pull the last few items out of the cart and get behind it to wheel it through the lane. As you do, he looms closely, adding to the sweat gathering on your lower back.

You roll along and wait for the cashier to ring through the rest of your things. She bags them up neatly in two large paper bags. You pay with your card and thank her as you lift the first into your cart. The man behind you moves forward and grabs the second, startling you.

"Got it," he says as he places it with the other, squeezing by you, crowding you.

"Oh, excuse me, sir," you stammer, "oh," you lean on the cart to roll it to the end of the lane as you make space between you and the stranger. "Thanks, er, uh... thanks."

You turn and grab the handle, jittering. He's really weirding you out. Especially as you realise he's walked right by the cashier. He's following you.

"I can help get ‘em in your car," he offers in a drawl.

"Oh, that's alright, I... bus," you cringe as you realise you've said too much.

"I could drive you. I have a truck."

"No thank you," you walk faster, the cart rattling with your pace.

"Why not?"

"I don't know you, erm, sorry--"

"You don't?" He catches up and shoves his phone in your face, your Insta profile glaring back at you, "I paid for the milk, maybe the berries..."

"What?" You stop, just by the door and turn to him. "I don't--"

"You haven't eaten, have you? I'll take you for French toast. That's your favourite."

"Um," you blink at him as your eyes tinge, "I don't..."

"You got me through a hard campaign, just wanna say thank you," he adjusts his cap and you notice the pin on it. He's a veteran. Oh, 'campaign'.

“Just got back home," he shifts on his feet, a meek gesture for such a large man, "and... your videos helped me remember it. Helped me hold onto it in the sh-- in the stuff."

"I... wow, okay, that's... I'm glad I could do that."

"I really don't mind giving you a ride. Lots of weirdos on the bus," he insists.

"That's nice but--"

"Please," he softens his tone, "been a while since I sat down and had breakfast without worrying about the sky falling."

You shudder and grip the cart tight. You don't know how to say no. You didn't think about who was watching. You always just assumed they were bots. Then you think of the chaching noise and the amount flashing on the screen.

"BourbonBear?" You ask.

"Yeah," he cracks a crooked smile and smooths his hand over his thick beard. "Everyone calls me Syv.”

#dark!captain syverson #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #follow you anywhere #sandcastle #captain syverson #dark captain syverson #captain syverson x reader

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