#breeding mention for ts

[ginis-wonderland]

pairing: simon riley x reader

genre: smut, breeding in the end, spitting, crying, just rough

your eyes were filled with tears and if he focused hard enough, he could see them contort into hearts. the noises coming from your pretty, pink lips kept him plenty distracted but the gripping sensation around his cock made him grunt and blush furiously.

"si!" you hiccuped and he pressed his hands at the back of your thighs to keep them close to your chest before leaning his weight on them.

"what is it, lovie?" he gasps in-between thrusts and you squeal when one of his hands moves down to rub fast circles around your hardened clit.

"si! not there!" you whined without a care of how loud it was.

he has been fucking you for hours now since he woke you up with his thick cock buried deep into your cunt. 

"'ts mine," he growls. "i can do whatever i want to it."

tears start to stream down your reddened cheeks and you clench tightly around him once you feel him nudging that one spot that made you see stars.

"god!" you shriek as simon begins to thrust even faster and begins to abuse your cervix. "not there! si-!" 

your gasps and protests fell deaf to his ears but simon riley wants to make you fall apart. he wants to feel the sense of satisfaction to know that it's because of him that you're cumming and it's because of him you're splayed out on the bed with your pretty pussy out in display for him.

"this cunny is mine, innit, lovie? perfectly tight and warm and so wet all because of me?" his brows were scrunched and sweat dripped down his muscular chest then he bent over to get close to your face, nose brushing against his.

"answer me, dolly," he urges and snaps his hips harshly making you cry out. "this" thrust. "pussy" thrust. "is" thrust. "mine" thrust. "right?" thrust.

"yes, simon!" you shrill out because that last thrust reached so deep you didn't know you could ever feel this full.

satisfied, he leans back but only slightly as his dog tags are swinging above your face and your eyes follow the movements. somehow, the harsh swinging of the metal heightened the pleasure his cock was giving you since it went along with his movements.

"open your mouth," he rasps and you quickly obey.

simon's lips quirked up to a smirk before he spat onto that pretty tongue. 

"don't swallow," he rushes. "not until i tell you."

you nod fast and your eyes close, almost rolling back, at his fast pace. simon has made you cum so many times already yet not once has he finished. he liked to edge himself because it made cumming feel even better. knowing he was close made the feeling of an orgasm rush up your body and into the depths of your belly. you weren't allowed to swallow his spit so you kept your mouth closed but simon could see the way your eyes flew open and the panicked look you gave him indicated how close you were.

"wanna cum together, pretty?" he offers and god, it made you nearly finish then and there. finishing together was so rare that when it happens, it was best to be savored in moderation. 

"swallow," he utters and you hurry to swallow his saliva before opening your mouth to prove it. simon always loved it when you did that and he chuckled. "oh, yes, my darling. where would you like me to cum, hm?"

"i-inside," you gasp. "do it inside."

what little self-restraint simon riley possessed flew out the window and he leaned back on his feet, grabbing your thighs to hike you up on them to have you closer to his cock. it pushed him in deeper.

"si!" you plead. "si! wanna cum! please, lemme cum!" your words slurred on your tongue before you sobbed and then he knew, he broke you.

"gonna cum 'round this cock, pretty? wanna cum while i fill you up and make you full of me and our babies? would you like me to breed you like my little cumslut?"

your jaw dropped and the loudest and most pornographic moan escaped your lips from his filthy words. simon knew that you liked it when he mentioned breeding you full and my gods, did he feel it with the way you gripped him.

"i'm gonna cum," he says and grabs your chin to turn you up to him. "look at me."

your eyes struggled to open and see through the tears but you focus on his face. simon riley's face contorting into pleasure is something you're honored to witness and he finally cums, brows scrunching and head leaning back at the intensity of it.

"fucking hell, lovely. keep it in. yes, shh, 'm not letting a drop waste."

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #dad!simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost cod #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #cod smut

[muzansfangs]

I would do it again.

Starring: Kokushibo x f!reader; Yoriichi x f!reader (mentioned)

Warnings: nsfw, modern au, cheating, slight angst, pregnacy, breeding kink, unprotected sex, possessive behavior, alcohol, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (Kokushibo receiving) morally grey reader, dom!kokushibo, sub!reader, revenge, implied reference to inferiority complex.

Plot: you were married to Yoriichi. You loved him, you really did, but your relationship grew colder as he had to spend months away from you for work. No calls, no texts, no chances to meet up somewhere. You were on your lowest when his brother, Kokushibo, showed up at your place. He told you he was going to stay for a while and that you would have not even noticed his presence around. However, loneliness and the twisted desire of taking a bite from the forbidden fruit brought you two together. Your secret, sinful affaire did not stop when Yoriichi returned. You got pregnant and you knew who the father was. Kokushibo left then, not forgetting about you and the child his brother would have claimed as his. He had taken his little satisfaction over him, he had you and your heart, no matter what.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Three months. You had no idea of where he was. You knew right from the start it would have been hard, but you did not expect to spend your whole life without him. He did not call you even once a week. Nor texts, neither letters, nothing. Whenever he had to leave, it felt like you had never even married him. He always said it was necessary, claiming he did it because he wanted to keep you safe. At what cost, though? If it was not a bullet through your head, it was his absence killing you instead.

You missed him. You still loved him and, apparently, he did too. It was absurd how he could act as a loving husband around you and then turn into a cold-hearted man you barely recognized, as soon as drove off to the airport.

“Fuck it…” you muttered, downing the third shot of vodka you had poured yourself to forget about the broken heart in your chest. You could not do this anymore, you knew it. Your house was too big for you to live in it alone. You clutched the fabric of one of shirt in your hands, sinking your nose into it in search for any trace of his existence. The creased item still smelled strongly of his favorite perfume.

It was not healthy.

You sobbed, curling yourself up in a ball on the couch and cursed yourself for having fallen in love with him at college. How could you not love him, though? He was the most handsome, brilliant, shy and kind person you had ever met in your life. Your hearts matched. He was the missing piece you had been searching for since you were born. Where was he now, then?

To snap you out of your stream of consciousness was someone knocking on the front door. Could it have been Yoriichi? You scoffed, wiping away your tears with the hem of your sweater as you reminded yourself that he would have never knocked. He had the keys, he always unlocked the door himself.

You still had to wait to see his face again.

You hopped down from the couch, your bare feet touching the cold floor as you sneakily made your way to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, just in case you had to defend yourself. What if Yoriichi was right? What if it was someone who wanted to hurt you, to hurt him? What if they had found you? You heart thrummed in your chest as you approached the front door, your grip on the hilt of the knife tightening.

“Y/N, are you home? It’s me… Kokushibo” the deep, hoarse voice of your husband’s twin pierced your ears.

Michikatsu. It had been two years since you last saw him. Just like your husband, he lived a life of danger, anonymity. Maybe it was even worse than Yoriichi’s one. He had to change his name for it. What did he want from you now, in the middle of the night?

You unlocked the door, dropping your hand still holding the weapon down your side and your droopy, puffy eyes met his maroon ones. There he was, Koksuhibo, the stolid Tsugikuni twin, the opposite of your husband. He stood on the porch, a luggage at his feet and a black raincoat embracing his slender, yet muscular frame perfectly. He held no sympathy in his eyes as he stared back at you. His eyes scanned your face attentively, then travelled down your body and you frowned at the way he averted his eyes from you.

You were about to ask him what was wrong, when the cold winter breeze made you realize how inappropriate your attire was. Your legs were completely exposed to the icy air, to his gaze. The blue, oversized sweater you were wearing only reached the middle of your thighs and your cheeks flushed up as you stepped behind the door and gestured for him to enter.

“Hi” you feebly said, as he picked up his heavy luggage and crossed the threshold.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked, taking a look around the silent, dark living room. It was oddly tidy. It looked almost if no one lived in here. Except for the coffee table in front of the couch. Photographs, empty bottles of liquors and an half-eaten meal laid on it.

You sniffed, closing the door behind you and weakly shook your head “No, I could not sleep – you whispered, eyes downcast not to meet his gaze – What brings you here?” you asked him, walking over to the counter and throwing the knife into the sink.

“I need a place to stay for a while. Don’t worry, you are going to forget I am even here – he stated, taking his black leather gloves off – Where’s he?”.

He. Right, how could you forget the rivalry between them? It was one-sided, yet evident. You had tried to ask your husband about it, but all he said was that Kokushibo had a serious inferiority complex. It was not much of an answer and you were sure there was more about it that Yoriichi did not feel like talking about, or share. Not even with you.

“He’s left three months ago. I haven’t heard from him since then” you quipped, walking past him to slump back into your couch. However, your unexpected visitor had other plans for you.

You felt his hand wrap around your wrist in a iron-grip and you were forced to halt. You could feel his intense gaze boring holes on the back of your head and gulped down, waiting for him to speak again and allow you to slip back into your catatonic loop of saddness, fear and loneliness. A self-destructing coping mechanism, indeed.

“How’re you, Y/N?” he inquired, making your breath hitch into your throat.

“I’m fine”.

“My brother might be blind, but I am not. What the fuck are you doing?” he asked again, swinging you around roughly. You hissed, wriggling your arm in his grip as your eyes met his ones for a split second. He seemed genuinely concerned about you.

How did he notice it in five minutes? How could he see your pain, when your husband did not?

“I’m going on, let me go” you blurted out, opting for keeping the eye-contact with him. Fighting was pointless. He was shamelessly strong and stubborn. There was no way in the world he would have let you go. Not until you had dignified him with a proper answer, at least.

“Drinking and crying yourself to sleep is not the answer. You are hurting yourself” he sternly replied, tugging you closer to him until you almost bumped against his broaded chest.

His cologne, God, his strong cologne pierced your nostrils in the same alluring way your husband’s one did in the past. That was another reminder for you of how distant you two had become: your sex drive had totally died out. He did not touch you, he did not worship your body as he used to when you got married. No.

You missed the physical contact you had with him.

And you cursed yourself for the way you were feeling now, under Kokushibo’s touch. It was immoral, wrong. You were ashamed of yourself. Then again, you were half-drunk, tired, drained. Could you really blame yourself for it?

“Why do you care about it, huh? It’s not your problem! You never gave a damn about me!” you snapped, swallowing the lump in your throat preventing you to properly breathe.

He tensed, his lips reduced to a thin-line at your harsh words “Because it should have been me. You should have married me, not him” he bitterly retorted, darting his hooded eyes down on your writhing frame.

You parted your lips in disbelief, tears welling up in your eyes as you banged the fist of your free hand against his chest in frustration. Why? Why did he have to say that? Why was he playing with you again? What was he talking about? He never showed interest in you.

“How dare you? Shut up, just leave! Were you not supposed to make me forget you are here? Let me be, let me–…” you yelled at his face, but you never finished the sentence.

Before you could vomit your anger on him, your back hit the wall behind you, the air knocked out of your lungs for a second, as his lips connected with yours in a fiery, fervent kiss. Your eyes grew round as his tongue brushed over your lower lip to ask for the permission to enter your mouth. You wanted to deny it, but your body craved it. You craved him, you craved the warmth of a body over yours.

You craved love and he was providing you it.

You returned the kiss with equal passion, your hands cupping his smooth cheeks as you hoisted your leg over his hip to pull him closer. He grunted in your mouth, one of his hands caressing the bare skin of your thigh as he grounded his groin down onto yours. A throaty moan fell from your lips as he repeated the action and his mouth assaulted your neck.

You did not care about the marks he was leaving behind him, on your once flawless skin. They would have faded sooner or later and, surely, your husband would have never known about them. He was not there. He was not coming back for a long time.

“What are we— Argh! What are we doing?” you breathed out, fumbling with the buttons of his raincoat and helping him to take it off.

He discarded it carelessly behind him on the floor, hooking his hands underneath your thighs and picking you up effortlessly. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively as he made his way to your bedroom.

How many times you had walked down that corridor, hoping in vain that your husband would have joined you and showered you in affection between the untouched bedsheets of your bed. You remembered the fire within his eyes, back when you got married, when he made you feel on cloud nine. Where was that fire now? It had died out.

“I’m doing exactly what I had to do ages ago” Kokushibo uttered, between hot kisses as he let you down onto the bed and carefully crawled on top of you. You trembled, your hands reaching up to tear his shirt open. The buttons flew across the room, lost forever under the bed, as your eyes contemplated his chiseled body. He was deadly handsome. You blushed and Kokushibo stroked your cheek, half-lidded eyes soaking in your features barely enlightened by the dim moonlight seeping through the courtains.

You were so beautiful. How could that bastard not see it? How could he let you crumble down like that?

He got rid of his shirt and he grasped your hand, leading it to lay flat onto his chest “You can touch me, Y/N” he murmured, watching you bite down your lower lip softly, probably still trying to ponder if what you were doing was right or wrong. You were cheating on your husband, you were stabbing his back by fucking his brother in your bedroom, on your shared bed.

On the same bed where you had told him you loved him.

“Michikatsu…” you called his name, making the man’s eyes widen even so slightly as you said his real name. No one had done it in years. No one had ever whispered it so sweetly, so lovingly. He knew you were different. You had never insulted him, you had never hurt him.

You were supposed to be his right from the start. He would have treated you better, he would have loved you better.

“Make love to me” you added, staring deep into his shimmering eyes. You wanted it, you trusted him, you were willing to nurture this new spark between you two. Could you forgive yourself for it in the future?

He did not reply, his fingers slipped between the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and exposing your aching cunt to his vicious eyes. You felt embarrassed. No man, except for your husband, had seen you naked in a long time. The idea of displaying your wet folds to Yoriichi’s brother sent shivers down your spine.

He did not waste time in dipping his fingers into you. He groaned at the way they slipped into your core smoothly, effortlessly. You were made for him. Your mouth hanged open, your back arching as he pumped his colloused digits in and out of you at a regular pace. The pleasure engulfing your stomach could not be compared to the small amount you felt when you touched yourself on Yoriichi. It was defferent, on another level. Kokushibo knew perfectly what you needed. You moaned out his name as he added a third finger, curling them into you to stimulate your spongy walls.

“M-More. Michikatsu, please— Give me more” you pleaded him, craning your neck in ecstasy.

His eyes clouded over in lust as he pulled his fingers out of you and suddenly flipped you over on your stomach, hastily unbuckling the belt of his trousers. You heard him unzipping them and before you knew it he had his hands on your hips, roughly pulling them up to assure himself a better access to your pussy. You closed your eyes, a yelp leaving your swollen lips when he smacked your ass and dragged the tip of his shaft along your folds to collect some juices. You could tell he was big, maybe even bigger than Yoriichi and it only meant one thing: it would have hurt, especially after a long period of not welcoming a cock between your walls.

“Be a good girl for me, Y/N. – he cooed, pressing the tip of his length to your entrance – Act like you’re my wife, as you should’ve been right from the start” he added, before slowly pushing past your folds. He grunted at the way your walls squeezed him tightly and he clenched his teeth not to bottom out completly with one thrust.

You writhed beaneath him, whimpers of pain and pleasure mixing together on your tongue as he conquered more inches, until he gave you one last hard thrust and you felt your ass pressing up against his navel.

He stayed still a minute, maybe two, to give you enough time to adjust to his massive size, drawing soothing circles on your back to make you relax. Your cheek was pressed down onto the pillow, your back arched to a painful angle, but it did not matter. It was worthy.

He gave you no warning as he started thrusting into your from behind, the sound of his thighs slapping your ass as he slammed you down into him was vulgar, lewd, shameful. But the unholy mantra you chanted as he filled you up, as he stretched you out until you were loose enough for his girth was heavenly.

“Michikatsu!” you cried out, the pressure coiling into your stomach was unbearable as he picked up the place and his hands left marks onto the soft flesh of your hips.

You could not hold on anymore. Your walls clamped down his cock as you reached your orgasm, milking his cock. Your breath was uneven, your mind fuzzy as he grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you up, until his lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

“I’ll fucking cum inside you. I’ll fuck a baby into you, Y/N. You are mine. He has no more rights over you” he rasped, giving you a few sloppy thrusts before he released his seed into you. You did not protest. Your silent consent screamed out his name as you both collapsed onto the bed, out of breath.

It did not stop that night. For two months he fucked you everyday, making sure his seed did not leaked out of your hole. He was loving out of bed, a beast into the sheets. You grew to love the taste of his cum, when you knelt between his legs and bobbed your head up and down his dick. You started to love him, in the same wicked way that he loved you.

Everywhere you looked around the house, you could picture him taking you in any possible position. You straddled him on the couch, he bent you over the counter in the kitchen, he had you held up against the wall in the shower. He had owned you in every way you vould have ever imagined.

After another month of being away, Yoriichi finally came back. Surprisingly, he did not take notice of the way his brother looked at you, or how your skin smelled like him most of the times. He was just happy to be reunited with his wife and how could you deny him the affection you had longed for during his absence. You made love to him, the night he had come back to you. You had done it the day before with Michikatsu and only God knew how much you loved him.

Two weeks later, you found out you were pregnant. The good news was that the period of conception coincided with Yoriichi’s return. Nevertheless, you knew who was the father.

You watched Kokushibo leave a few days after the news. The bond with his brother seemed to have weirdly developed into a stronger one.

“You should visit us more frequently! And, please, I’d appreciate it very much, if you could keep company to my wife, when I’m gone” Yoriichi said, smiling contently at his brother.

If only he knew.

Kokushibo faintly smiled back at him, his eyes locking with yours for a few seconds, before he nodded his head to his brother “I will take good care of her, brother”.

I would do it again, Michikatsu thought then, hopping into his car. Yoriichi’s life was now his.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi there! I know I should’ve posted Douma’s one-shot earlier, but somehow I felt inspired and completed this project. Ugh, poor Yoriichi, but … I wanted to write something different for Kokushibo. He deserves to be happy too. No matter the cost!Likes, comments and reposts are appreciated!

#kokushibo x reader #yoriichi x reader #michikatsu x reader #michikatsu tsugikuni #demon slayer smut #kokushibo smut #kokushibo x you #kokushibo x y/n #yoriichi smut #yoriichi x you

[doppopoppo]

ROYAL COUPLE (nsfw)

TS!King Canute x F!Reader

|| Warnings : cum play, mentions of breeding kink, voyeurism (?) ||

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡

Most people had misconceptions about the current king and queen of Denmark and England. Rightfully so of course given tradition surround royal couples.

King Canute does not allow any other men to lay his eyes or paws on his Queen. Women as well, unless they're helping her to take a bath and get clothed. Otherwise, no, paws off. All intimacy and lovemaking remain for his own pleasures. Vice versa for the Queen. Her Kings only for her pleasures.

The Queen was not there as an object to pleasure her husband, but rather each of them chased the idea of the other experiencing bliss and euphoria. In the years they've been together, intimate sessions continued until both needs were satiated.

Early morning, the two admittedly decided to ignore their important royal duties. How rude it would be to cut their session from last night short. During this early time of day, the Queen tends to rather feel vulnerable and and weak. Through given consent, she tends to let her husband have his way with her if he so desires to. And today, he so desires her very much.

His usual place is to cum inside her, feeding off his need to breed heirs into his Queen, though today he wanted to see her painted with bits of him all over. He pulled out, eliciting a whimper from his wife below him. With a low groan, he came all over her supple chest. His wife shivered from excitement to be covered in her husband's love as it was quite rare.

Feeling rather dazed from the sleep that's still evident in his eyes, he mindlessly swirled the cum around her nipples. He collected some cum onto his middle and ring finger, same finger that held his wedding ring, and found her aching hole that remained unsatisfied. His wife softly began grinding, wanting more friction. He swooped his down and circled his tongue around one of her nipples. Tasting himself in the process, but the idea and action of it made them both moan from pleasure. He lapped more of his cum on her chest, sucking as if he was feeding. This alone caused his wife to reach her first high for the day.

For now, they both knew they had to attend to their daily responsibilities.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡

Hello hello, it's been A WHILE! Who knows if I'll be consistent but VS Def inspired me to write a few pieces. I mean come on, some of these guys are just so adorable yet manly! 😍 not entirely sure if I'll take requests as I didn't finish some last time. BUT I do know there's a lack of Vinland writers on here, SO if my inbox or this gets enough people asking for requests, I'll open it up :)

#anime x reader #vinland saga #vinland saga x reader #prince canute #king canute #king canute x reader #prince canute x reader #vinland saga scenario #vinland saga smut #canute x reader

[flawless-imperfections]

Okay I shared all this in an ask introducing my new T to some friends on tumblr, but in case it doesn’t get seen or posted, I’m going to say it on my account too:

Regarding my new T, Ember, and these pictures I posted of me “handling”.

IMPORTANT PSA: I do not advise or advocate for handling your tarantulas unless it is absolutely necessary! This juvenile Brachypelma emilia had just been shipped out to me and crawled on me during a rehousing and I was doing a health check to make sure all was well. Please be responsible with your Ts.

Though us hobbyist keepers may enjoy handling, unless your spider is one of very few that seemingly enjoys (aka tolerates) it, handling spiders is a stressful experience for them. They are very shy, reserved creatures who deserve our respect and to be left alone aside from feedings, spot cleaning and rehousings. Observe them inside their enclosures from the outside; it’s much safer for both you and the animal. They’re also just fascinating animals to watch just move dirt around, make burrows and web their lil homes up.

New World Ts possess urticating hairs which will irritate you/cause a rash and some Ts have them worse than others, especially if they get into your nose/throat/eyes and particularly if those specific hairs give you a bad reaction/allergic reaction.

Old World Ts (which should absolutely never be handled) possess medically significant venom - which, by the way, there is no antivenin for: if you fuck around and get bit, you gotta take the hit. And if you’re sensible, you’ll learn the lesson. They’re also crazy fast and can bolt faster than you blink which doesn’t help.

You wanna know the best way to care for your spider? Love and admire your spood from afar - you don’t need to handle your T to enjoy them! Learn all you can about your spider(s) to give them the best life that you can in captivity (no one ever just gets one). Certain species are more likely to be out in the open in their enclosure where you can see them, especially at night.

Oh! And even if a species is labelled as “docile”, that does not equate to “handleable” - while every T is obviously an individual, and species can have a generalised prediction of what you can expect from them, any tarantula’s personality can be temporary moult to moult and they can go from sweet as pie to irritable and defensive. There are no guarantees.

Something you should also keep in mind is whether you have a male or a female. Everyone who gets a tarantula (who isn’t looking for a male to breed, either for more captive breeding of certain species or wildlife conservation) especially if they get a spiderling or it’s unsexed, hopes they get a female because females live considerably longer and once males mature they (more often than not) go off food and are completely focused on looking for a mate to breed. That’s their purpose. That’s just what they do.

Some great resources for learning about spiders/Ts that I can think of off the top of my head are: Tom’s Big Spiders (an absolutely amazing resource), Tarantula Collective, Tarantula Heaven and Dave’s Little Beasties. There’s also Arachnoboards which can be hit and miss but I’d be remiss not to mention that too.

If you ignore all of this advice and information, that’s your choice. I can’t tell you what to do or how to take care of your animals. That’s ultimately up to you. I just wanted to share what I know and to advocate for the underappreciated, misjudged, misunderstood, 8-legged friends that can’t advocate for themselves.

Oh, and I have another huge point to add - we’re all continuously learning! Plus I’d like to note there is the occasional species that seems very curious and will venture out for a lil walk when you open their enclosure (e.g. Homoeomma chilensis otherwise known as the Chilean Flame Dwarf) but I wouldn’t purposely go out of my way to pick it up (that’s just me though). Also those are hard to find, (as is a larger T but from what I’ve researched is also known for being very docile Eupalaestrus campestratus otherwise known as the Pink Zebra Beauty). I would say if you do come across either of these T’s and like them definitely snatch them up while you can. Their availability literally everywhere is rare and time-limited as a lot of people like them. One thing for you to consider though is that these two species, like Grammastola and Brachypelma, are very slow growing - like, years to reach full size. Personally, I think they’re well worth the wait because they’re just stunning tarantulas as adults. Obviously it comes down to your own level of patience and personal preference.

FULL DISCLOSURE WARNING: You’ll likely end up with more than one spider…no one ever keeps just one. I only intended to have 1, which has now turned into 9… It happens (just make sure you’re aware of how big they’ll get, their growth rates and how much space you have both now and for their enclosures) and definitely bear in mind their lifespans. If it’s a female, depending on the species, you’ll have it for somewhere between 8-30 years. That’s a long time with your new buddy, so keep in mind you’ll probably have your tarantula(s) into adulthood. However, I would also like to add this. If you don’t feel you can take care of your spider (or you get too many you can comfortably deal with at once), there’s absolutely no shame in rehoming them. More than likely someone, even wholesalers, will buy them. If they’re also in the hobby, (obviously vet them to make sure they know husbandry etc.), you’ll know they’re in good hands. Hell, some people might even send you occasional updates about your spider - I know I would.

For those who actually read the whole post, first of all wow. But thank you so much for your time, interest in my long af text post and your dedication to research! I appreciate you all sm and hope you have an awesome day. Sending you love from me and all my animals!🩷

Also if you do pick up any Ts, whatever their life stage/if they’re showing their full colours or not, pls send pics of your new babies! I’d love to see them🥺❤️

#personal #mine #ember #brachypelma emilia #PSA #this has been a psa #ngl I keep adding new stuff to this as more things come to me lmao #tarantula #spider #arachnids #inverts #invertebrates #animal care #awareness #petblr #spiderblr #text post #2024

[introloves]

Just thinking about being super Domestic with Aone! He starts thinking about what a great little wife you’d be and how sweet you are. One day you casually mention what a great father he’d be if you guys had children and it does something to him! 💓

papa! aone + housewife! reader + HEAVY BREEDING KINK + talk of pregnancy (no kids) + princess complex + pillow princess! reader + overly protective! aone + praise + mating press + squirting + size kink + overstimulation + dacryphilia + creampie + f! reader

— word count; approx 2k

you treat him so gentle- a big man like him coming home to you after a long day of work always brings out a near overwhelming need to take care of him, to be there at every beck and call, waiting for him so pretty, looking towards the door with every second coming closer to him coming how to you.

everything you do for him doesn’t go unnoticed, aone doesn’t say much, but he returns your sweet kisses with an equal amount of love and adoration for his sweet little wife.

you’re near ravenous when he finally comes home, shrugging off his coat, boots taken off at the door, handkerchief in hand to wipe any lingering dust and dirt from his hands- not wanting to dirty any surface you’d spent all day cleaning. he’s even apprehensive in giving you his coat- looking at you with pinched lips, grunting while gently placing it in your waiting hands.

he doesn’t touch you until he’s all showered, even when you insist that it’s okay, the dirt beneath his nails from working, from being outside all day makes him feel dirty, you’re his princess, his pretty baby- how could he ever think to lay a soiled finger onto your soft and well taken care of skin...

he usually relents to your whines, begrudgingly bending down to place a quick kiss to your pretty lips- puckered and waiting for his own to press onto yours. he makes a straight line to the bathroom, showering, rolling his shoulders back once he steps out- towel secured ‘round his hips, and once again walking in a practiced route to your shared room.

he doesn’t change, he can’t because as soon as he’s out, you’re sat on the bed. pillows, blankets- comforter fluffed daily in anticipation for him to fuck you.

eyes eagerly drinking in his every step, water running down rounded out muscle, not so defined- not anymore. the home cooked meals that you make for him has treated him well, form fluffed out with muscle that’s more fitted for his job, it’s dense and packed in, thick. it makes your pussy throb.

“how was work papa?” you question sweetly, legs spreading wide to receive his body, slick folds wetly (and loudly) parting for him while you pin your knees on either side of you, giggling at the way he sucks a breath in every time, eyes looking at the pussy he so adores, mouth salivating.

he loves coming home to you.

he loves how soft you are, warm- thinks there’s nothing better smelling and more comforting than sinking deep- so very deep into the tight and wet heat that is your pretty pussy.

letting the towel fall at the foot of the bed, his cock hangs in a thick curve over his heavy balls, pretty white pubes decorating his crotch, tummy clenching in anticipation, it’s a sight seeing him get hard, thick length bending with how big he is- even fully hard there’s a delicious curve, gravity not too kind to him.

“good... i missed you.” aone mumbles. huffing as his now cleaned, calloused- thick... such thick hands reach to finally touch, soothing up the expanse of your legs, wondering how someone so pretty- so beautiful is laid out beneath him, pussy drooling for a cock like his.

you purr, smiling, body twisting- pushing up as his hands press you down.

“missed you more... was thinking about you- ‘bout something in particular.” you mumble, lidded eyes wandering up to his neck. watching the pretty blooming blush roll down all the way to his chest- wanting to reach up and remark and fading hickies, fingertips ghosting along faded lines of your nails dug in the moment of overwhelming passion.

“hm.” he hums, giving you his whole attention as you speak- looking at your lips as you form every word, planting heavy hands to the apex of your legs, digging the pads of every finger into the giving flesh, encouraging you to continue with a nod, all while kneading and squishing your body.

“was just thinking what a good papa you are- was thinking if you’d give me a baby... to keep me company while you leave.” you breathe, pulse quickening at the thought- head spinning the second the last word tumbles free, all because you’re suddenly pulled down.

it’s near audible, a lowly groan spreading forth from the deepest parts of his chest while he huffs- pale chest rising and falling rapidly, cock visibly throbbing- balls clenching, there’s even a moment where he thinks he may cum.

“f-fuck- a baby?” he exhales, tipping his head back, the stutter making you look at him with a hint of curiosity.

blinking away the base need to shove his cock inside, blinking away the need to push your head into the bed and dump load after load of his cum inside you, all with the intent to make you round with his kid he pulls your legs up he comes down towards you.

all to make you fat and pretty and waddle around while he takes you hand in hand everywhere you need to go.

he doesn’t realizes his hips have instinctively rutted down into you- too caught up in the thought of holding you while fat with a baby the two of you made.

hands dimpling your soft skin- muscle memory carrying every action, already folding you down, knees nearly pressing against your chest, heavy cock slotted onto your cunt, squished between your bent legs.

“i’ll give you a baby. my princess wants a baby.” he grunts, gone dizzy. all of this taking place in mere seconds of you spilling the thought. he says it like it’s a command from you, tunnel vision suckering him in, barely able to see you in the absolute need to give his princess everything her pretty heart desires.

you don’t know where he’s gone, obviously lost in a heavy headspace- popping the head of his still throbbing cock into you, crying in suspense. this is all so exciting, he’s always so eager to bring you what you want, always willing to move the stars and moon for you and now he’s answering to the fantasy you built up all day.

“p-papa!” you squeal, sucking in a breath when he barrels into you with a near punishing thrust.

this is different, he’s different. he’s always cautious with every thrust, but there’s no regret or remorse while the second slam of his hips knock into you. kicking legs just barely able to squirm at all with the way they’re perched on his broad shoulders, you watch as they dangle, watch while he stares you down, his own body moving with intent- drilling into your sopping pussy.

“papa!” you yell this time, soft hands holding onto his arms, his large palms resting on either side of your face while he folds himself down, the creak, sway of the bed dangerously loud- sucking every breath from inside your lungs.

he’s never been this rough, never- and your lips curl with every open mouth yell.

he fucks into you like you’re not there, thick cock splitting you open- filling your cunt, bringing you so very early into a blinding orgasm.

it’s so wet- eyes wet, pussy wet while you squirt and gush, crying out tiny little whimpers of his name as every wave of orgasm takes you. it splatters all over his thighs, painting his tummy, dripping back down onto you hotly.

this is all he needs, needs you wet and messy, needs your pussy swollen and slicked with need and cum so you can take such a big cock easier- if you take it easier he can use every inch of strength he has to dig the swollen and still throbbing cockhead right up to your cervix. he can almost see the swollen ring so ready to take his cum, displacing your own weepy orgasm, making room to receive all of his own thick, milky orgasm.

“good girl- my good girl.” aone nearly chokes, unfocused eyes zoning down onto your bent form, pussy lips and folds sucked in and out in with each drag.

you’re melted, reduced to a babbling little baby under his large mass- doing so well, taking someone so strong and so big like him with nothing more than a few overstimulated tears. drool forming at the corner of your mouth, the only thing you can do is wait for his cum like the pretty princess you are.

“papa- ‘ts too much- too much.” you gasp, wandering eyes roaming up his neck, landing on hardened eyes.

“no- no it’s not. you want a baby. i’m giving you a baby.” he speaks- knowing this is hard on someone treated like a doll, soft hands digging into the veined arms of his, same hands that never work too hard for anything at all, all because he insists on treating you with any and everything.

and just like everything else, he knows he needs to cut this short- knows you’re tired and wanting to drift off onto a nap, so aone fucks you deeply.

he needs to bend further and kiss away the tears spilling down your soft and plush cheeks- heated with the exertion he’s putting your body under, gently apologizing. the high and heated coiled need to breed you slowly waning, now just needing to paint your pussy with his cum.

“it’s okay- it’s okay, papa loves you- you’re okay.”

the gentleness, lowly and grunted words truly bring you peace, trembling under him- hiccuping at the thrusts he gives you, exhaling heavy when he tips forward to an orgasm finally.

sealing hips down to your own, rutting with securely placed knees down onto the bed.

he pushes you up a good amount, crinkling the bedding around your limp body, pistoning shallow thrusts, each one stickier- messier, harder to deliver as he cums. thick cock pulsating in need, sinking into such silky gummy walls all shaped to the form of his large cock.

he huffs equally shallow breaths, tired- so tired from an intense fucking, balls squeezing up tight to his body, every contraction followed by a deep squish of him to you.

“fuck- fuck.” aone groans, his shaking form transferred down to you, slowly bringing your aching legs off the perch of his shoulders. he gathers the last bit of strength residing in his body to take care of you, once more- with a gentleness only found in someone who’s been cautious of their own strength their whole life, he places your legs onto the bed.

you’re still dizzy as he does so, unable to keep the seizing of your muscles down- body heated and sweaty with how he folded your form into his desired state, slowly blinking your eyes more and more open.

blurry gaze landing on him, watching with a slowly growing smile as he looks at you with a reserved guilt.

“it’s okay.” you whisper, only able to whisper for the time being- “i’m okay.”

but even with what you say, he brings a large palm to your tummy, holding it there- reminding himself that it was to give you what you wanted. you just look so broken now, limbs unmoving, all dead weight while he positions your body much more comfortably.

with a nod, he pushes down any worry to hold you tight- swollen muscle wrapping your precious body up. your giggles bringing forth a near exasperated smile from him- wondering how his sweet baby still can be so... sweet after being fucked like that.

sleepy face burying into the crook of his neck while he fights to keep his softened cock inside you, pulling his princess onto him, slotting the plushness of you against his body.

“pretty.” he mumbles once the two of you are relaxed, basking in the tiredness throbbing throughout two fucked out forms.

“pretty baby.” aone whispers, bringing down a large hand to your tummy.

you can’t lift your head off his chest to give him a sweet smile, instead giggling with how well your papa takes care of you, how well he loves and gives you everything your pretty pink heart wants.

#aone #aone takanobu #aone smut #aone takanobu smut #haikyuu smut #aone x reader #aone x reader smut #aone x y/n #aone x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #smut #one shot #requests #no.name

[inkmemes]

this  country  (  2017  -  2020  )  sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  the  bbc  mockumentary.  trigger  warning  for  mentions  of  religion,  death,  sex.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“i like the underdog.”

“don't be a fucking dick.”

“everyone comes together on days like today and just forgets their utter hatred of each other.”

“everyone who's anyone's going to be there and there are people from my past that would love to see me slain.”

“there's a tea rooms there and under the counter they've got a panic button and if i take one step inside, they can press that. the police will be there in three minutes.”

"he whatsapped me the other day asking us to go laser quest with him and i ... well, i clicked on it by accident, didn't i? so he knows i've seen it."

"i mean, i get it, but it's not making me feel nothing."

“it's baffling. i'm baffled by the entire situation, if i'm honest.”

“what the actual fuck? what the actual fuck? you have fucking lost your head, mate. you have lost your fucking head.”

“when i get hold of you, i swear to god i will fucking deck you.”

"someone's just been throwing plums at my house. i'm going to kill them. i can't believe it. i can't believe it. all over this. plumming on here, plumming on that. plum on the sofa, look! there's nothing left that hasn't been plummed."

“i've had a target on my back since the day i was born.”

“thank you very much, enjoy your free potatoes.”

“do you know how small your brain is?”

“hogwarts is that way, dumbledore.”

“he used to say i looked like the puppet off the dolmio advert.”

“there's a kid crying over there. do you want me to...? i can tell him to shut the fuck up if you want?”

“he genuinely looked like a moomin.”

“on my first day of karate club, karate master goes to me, [name], i don't know why you're here because i can't teach you anything. if anything, you should be teaching me." and just gave me his black belt.”

“you know that little old blind man? yeah, when i was punching him in his face, the lens from his glasses broke and cut my knuckle.”

“some things are just best left in the past, where they belong.”

“what's the point in knocking if you're just going to walk in anyway?”

“it was a miscarriage of justice though, cos what people forget is 12 out of them 20 hostages actually found it funny.”

“i lied so much i still don't know what's real life and what's plain lies.”

“i'm so glad you're out of that lying phase.”

“he likes to be the only person on the road, so whenever he sees a car coming the other way he just pulls over.”

“nasa went through hundreds of them in the '60s. and now every time i see a really bright star in the sky i can't wish on it, cos in my head i'm thinking, ‘that's probably just a spacecraft with some monkey bones in it.’”

“you absolute traitor. that's my cheese - it's my fucking house!”

“don't you dare eat that cheese. you eat that and i will smash this. i promise you, i will smash you with this.”

“fuck! you switched them!”

“yeah, i can see it's fucking burnt, sherlock.”

“i honestly am ashamed to know him, sometimes.”

“if you knock on someone's door, don't take no for an answer. get into their house. if they say, ‘leave my house’, stay. and if they say, ‘i'm going to call the police’, you walk upstairs and see if there's anybody else upstairs to sell to.”

“she looks like uncle fester.”

“right. i'm going to piss in their flowers, then.”

“you really need to go home. your mum's called the police and everything.”

“you're also fired from being my best mate, by the way.”

“in business, there will always be setbacks. i don't drink my own juice, fray bentos doesn't eat his own pies. but that's business.”

“do you know what, i don't actually want to play this any more, because it is actually very, very boring.”

“i'm ashamed of myself, that's not usually me, so don't get the wrong impression.”

“i genuinely think one of them fancies me as well.”

“it's fate her moving across the street.”

“the problem with finding a girlfriend in the village is that most of the girls you meet round here are old-age pensioners.”

“yeah, i am looking for a relationship, but thing is i've just got so many trust issues, yeah, with being fucked over massive in the past, so no matter how much i get close to someone now i'm thinking in the back of my head, ‘shit, am i going to get fucked over?’ because i've been fucked over in the past massively. my last relationship proper fucked me up.”

“i went through a really dark phase. listening to papa roach and just blowing everything up with them little french bangers.”

“shut up, you don't know what you're talking about!”

“i don't like the man. i know he's my uncle, but i don't like him.”

“it's just malicious lies, that's all it is.”

“i'm not saying i've got a cruel heart, but if she ain't willing to take me as i am rather than the monster i've become, then she can literally just jog on back to sea with all the other fish cos i don't care.”

“what do you look for in a boyfriend?”

“the key to dating, yeah, is the two rs and the three ts. 'respect, rapport, and talking, talking, talking.' don't ever let that ball hit the ground. good relationships are built on great conversation.”

“on a date, you've got to tell them all the interesting stuff about you, because that's what they'll be interested in.”

“he said to me, he goes, ‘you can't smoke on here.’ i said, ‘i'm not smoking, i'm vaping.’ the look on his face when i said that. i don't think he knew what vaping… what a vape is.”

“you would make me the happiest mouse if you say yes and become my spouse.”

“here's a tip, [name], next time you take a chick out on a date, don't bore her to tears.”

“roses are red, violets are blue, i've got five fingers, the third one's for you.”

“get out of my way, pipe cleaner.”

“[name] phoned me the other day at three in the morning saying, ‘come quick,

there's a hedgehog in the garden that looks exactly like grandad.’ so i got up, i got dressed and i ran over to [name]'s as fast as i could and then i just stopped in the middle of the street at three in the morning and thought, ‘what the fuck am i doing with my life?’

“you're joking me? because if you are joking me, that is massively harsh.”

“oh, let me get a song up on youtube. you're going to absolutely love this, [name]. here we go… listen to this. oh, for fuck's sake, advert.”

“let's go down the pub and get shitfaced.”

“where do i see myself in five years? well, me and [name] will have a flat in the middle of the village and all of our furniture will be inflatable and we'll have cable and it will pay for itself, because we're going to use the spare room to breed quails, because their eggs are worth fucking shitloads.”

“is this about the calippo, still? because you offered to buy me that.”

“if he wants to go, good luck to him, i say. i reckon he thinks that i can't live without him, which is a laugh, because he went a whole weekend away once and i got on all right. i just ended up following this cat around the village.”

“i've got to do what's right for me, at the end of the day, instead of worrying about other people.”

“how about you say sorry? sorry for the massive knife that's hanging out the back of my back because of you.”

“oh, and while you're stabbing me in the back, feel free to bend down and kiss my arse.”

“can i just ask you an honest question? why would you want to leave the village when we've got a pub and a shop?”

“i think you don't know how lucky we have it to be doing nothing with our lives, like. we're all going to die, anyway, so what's the point in doing anything?”

“i want ownership of the words fucknut and dickmilk.”

“i had this come through the post. and i've got a few concerns about it. firstly, this guy on the front looks really arrogant. not the sort of guy i was expecting, if i'm honest.”

“this is starting to stress me out a little bit.”

“why are you trying to stress me out? you know i'm already stressed out as it is.”

“the bloke that used to live in there, right, kept hearing strange noises coming out of his attic at night. and he'd go to the fridge and find that food was missing from the fridge. so he thought, ‘i'm just going to go up to the attic and check this out.’ and he found an entire family of peruvian panpipe buskers just living up there. and he thought ‘i'm just going to leave them to it, ‘cos they're not really doing me any harm.’ and then, a few years later, he thought, "well, i'll just go up to the attic to check on them. ‘see if they're all right.’ and it turned out they'd all died of asbestos poisoning. yeah, he doesn't live here any more.”

“some people will always be scared of me, and i can't change that, no matter how nice i am. but there's a balance to be had between being nice and being feared.”

“don't really like catching up. it's not my thing.”

“i just watched this video of this girl doing a random act of kindness on youtube. she basically paid for this old man's shopping at the till. and this old man was, like, about 90 years old. and he's so fucking old, like, you could see through his skin. and he just starts bawling his eyes out. he's like, ‘you're fucking joking me, this ain't fucking real life.’ i just thought... i want to make someone feel like that. ‘cos that's... i really… that's what i want to do.”

“i'm not dead. just can't be arsed to text her sometimes.”

“you know, correct me if i'm wrong, but four texts a day is complete madness. no-one can keep up with that.”

“i am doing kind things selfishly.”

“i was at midnight mass one year, right, someone got tipped off i was there. as i was coming out the church, someone tries to shoot me with a crossbow.”

“well, i haven't seen the film, have i? that's why i came here - to watch the fucking film - like a normal human being.”

“i've made an effort by coming here tonight. i didn't want to come.”

“i had to wheel him here from his house in an asda trolley, cos he was just too heartbroken to move.”

“sometimes you don't know what you got until you ain't got it any more. like blockbuster's. i just took 'em for granted - and then, one day, gone, and you spend ages trying to figure out what went wrong, and then you realise it was your fault all along.”

“i thought you said you wanted to fix things.”

“she wanted it to go that way, and it just wasn't gonna go that way. she even got me thinking that they'd get back together… ..but that's manipula.... manipulative people... do that. and he's better off without her.”

“that wasn't much to write home about.”

“it's fucking dead, isn't it?”

“basically, somebody's been sending me threatening letters, and i don't know who's doing it - and i am concerned, because my peripheral vision is poor, so, if somebody attacks me from the sides or snipes at me from an upstairs window, i am fucked - but my hearing is excellent, see? so i just need to spend a few days inside honing my sonar, and i'll be fine then.”

“if you don't like the work, the circus is in town and they're always looking for clowns.”

“his soul is just going to crumble to dust.”

“this really is not a good situation for me. a physical threat is something that i can deal with, but a sexual thing is not my area of expertise.”

“just really fucked in the head, mate.”

“what have i done? i haven't done anything wrong.”

“do you know how sad that is? that is so, actually, sad. that makes me sad for you, that you can't take a joke.”

“i think i just got a bit carried away with the whole thing.”

“your finger's going up my arsehole, mate.”

“i'll hold the back of your head, so you don't bash yourself.”

“when i lie in future, i don't want a massive lecture on how bad lying is, cos deep down, you're the worst of us all, mate.”

“i'd quite like a coke.”

“it's going to be like gluing a breadstick back together, because… like, as if a breadstick's been in a blender and it's all… ...the pieces smashed up.”

“like, this one time i started a fight club in the village hall, and i got a black eye from beating myself up. but it made my enemies think, ‘fuck, if she can do that to herself, what the fuck can she do to me?’”

“i'm absolutely 1,000% sure i've broken it in two places.”

“i knew this day would come.”

“i should be in tk maxx, getting the bargains that i deserve.”

“unlike you, [name], i'm not a fashion disaster.”

“i'm still warm in my grave, and she's sucking off the pallbearer.”

“you know, it took me ten years to get over [name], and i only went out with her for half a day.”

“i swear to god, if i see him here again, i swear to god, i will have no hesitation in just going up to him and just planting one on his face.”

“right, then keep your nose out of my business, yeah? nosy old cock-womble.”

“[name]’s attitude to me is puzzling. if i walk past her in the street

and say hi, she'll tell me to fuck off. yet every year, she sends me a really sweet, nice christmas card. you know, there's just no consistency there.”

“he's good-looking up close, isn't he?”

“don't show me any weakness, because i will take advantage.”

“no, put the brick down, you fucking psychopath.”

“when i asked him, he just said, ‘come to my office now,’ which means we're in the fucking shit, cos we're always in fucking shit.”

“i shouldn't be paying you at all.”

“i've always had a son. i talk about him all the time.”

“he's my son. he's not my dog.”

“it reminds me of the wicker man. i don't really know why.”

“i just find it weird how you can be so close to someone and they can be such a big part of your life, and then the next minute, you're just sort of strangers in the night.”

“i don't want the emotional implications.”

“well, about five years ago, i sold my birthday to my mum for about 200 quid, which means my mum's legally entitled now to never celebrate my birthday ever again for the rest of my life. not even, like, a happy birthday cup of tea, or a moonpig card, nothing - which is the worst decision i ever made in my entire life.”

“he deserves that anyway, because he's been sexting my nan, so…”

“what's this surprise? cos i need to know whether it's going to be worth this walk.”

“i always see them banners above the motorway, and i always thought, ‘who the fuck does them?’ well, now i know. people like me.”

“did you know you can't get stung by a stinging nettle if you grab the leaf top and bottom, like that? it's only when you touch it on the sides, it stings. agh, actually, that stung, then.”

“pez dispenser, they're cursed. they are, i'm not even joking. honestly, when i had one of them, i had the worst bout of bad luck i ever had in my life.”

“i swear down, it's a short cut. it might be a pleasant walk, we might enjoy it.”

“i'm not scared of the fox twins. i'd just like to sit them down and ask 'em plainly, ‘look, guys, what is going on? ‘cos this has just gotten completely out of hand now. you know, stop walking on your knuckles, stand up straight, be the best version of you that you can be. get a job, even. there's a trolley boy who works at tesco's, you know, who may as well have been raised by wolves. if he can get a job, you guys can walk it.’”

“yes, there has been talk of strange goings-on in the woods, ghost sightings and the like. but… ...they're never from particularly reliable sources.”

“i live with a ghost. there's a ghost in that house. he's like a civil war cavalier, with all the hair and the hat and all that. and every time i walk into the living room, he doffs his cap. and on his shoulder, he's got this crow that barks at me. it means i spend less time in the house, really. not because of him, because he's-he's quite peaceable. but the crow is malevolent. and i'm not having that. i can't share my house with a malevolent bird.”

“that's haunted as fuck.”

“am i going mad here, or does that, to you, look like that's where just ghost will hang out all the time?”

“look at him, little red riding twat.”

“if he's got an attitude with me, i swear to god, i'll just grab the steering wheel and drive us all into a wall.”

“it's a bit annoying, actually. cos this is not the first or the second time i've had to tell you, really, is it?”

“his sparkle has just gone.”

“you know my dad actually wrote the song wonderwall on the back of a beer mat in the space of ten minutes, don't you?”

“i've just got a tiny, tiny, tiny little favour to ask you.”

“when i think of [name], i think of someone who is very loyal. and very, very stupid. sort of more stupid than loyal. sort of 70% stupid, 30% loyal, probably. because she's very loyal. but extremely stupid.”

“do you know what? i actually don't think he loves you at all and i don't think he's ever loved you.”

“all right, that's harsh and unnecessary, but fine.”

“frankly, she is behaving like the antichrist.”

“i literally just got here.”

“you are such an unemotional slab of ham, [name].”

“i've got so much shit on that man you would not believe.”

“there's something in my eye.”

“i just can't quit him, you know?”

“yeah, we might have a fiery relationship,  but when we're together, it's just… it's just pure chemistry, isn't it?”

“i'm not proud of it, believe me. but at the end of the day, i'm a very vindictive person, you know? it is what makes me me.”

“i basically went out and bought an alpaca off gumtree for £500. of all the mistakes i've made in my life, that was possibly the largest. definitely the physically largest.”

“yeah, i really don't wanna talk about that.”

“her only loyalty is to herself, staffies, and the tv channel dave… ...which, in my opinion, is a tv channel made by knuckle-draggers for knuckle-draggers.”

“i can't move on till i've seeked revenge, unfortunately.”

“if that was in france, that would be fine, but we're not in france.”

“the only thing we had in common, really, was stealing, and that was more my thing that i got him onto. but it just goes to show, you know, some friendships last and some friendships don't, but that's just the way it is.”

“you know it was me that got you sacked, don't you?”

“the thing i learnt about friendship is, you gotta accept each other's flaws, no matter how toxic they may be.”

“shit-stirring from beyond the grave.”

#rp meme #rp prompt #rp starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #this is the nichest meme ive made #but this show is so fucking funny okay

[wri0thesley]

guilty jacking off. they know they shouldn’t want you, but you’re just so easy to imagine when they’re feeling particularly lonely in their beds. if it’s just a little fantasising, what’s the harm - right?

cw: guilty jacking off, not sfw, afab reader implied (no pronouns). mentions of power dynamics (kaeya, diluc, thoma). breeding mention (gorou). double dick zhongli, as it should be. 

ft (and thank you to the anons who sent their little requests in for who it should be about):  kaeya, gorou, ayato, thoma, diluc, zhongli, kazuha

kaeya is certainly not used to feeling guilt about this. though he does harbour various guilts within himself, generally he considers flirting and sex a pleasant distraction - that is, until you walked into his life. lovely, sweet, and untouchable lest he wish to have any of his under-recruits in the knights of favonius think him a pervert taking advantage of his station, kaeya cannot help but watch you when he thinks you’re not looking. cannot help but correct your form when holding a sword, give a little more praise to you than most people hear from him. and it does not help that you look at him with that wide-eyed hero worship so many new knights do hold for their captains; that you smile and gasp and fervently thank him when he takes time for you. it’s hard not to let that hero worship go to his head - to imagine that you’re knelt before him, instead, treating his cock with that same desperate revenance all to hear a kind word from your superior. it’s hard not to think of your mouth stuffed full, the bulge in your throat, the feel of his hand about the back of your neck as he hungrily pumps into you and relished the feel of your pretty lips wrapped around him. and when he does have such thoughts, there is really no other option than to wrap his hand around his cock and fuck his fist to them. 

gorou spends a lot of time at sangonomiya shrine, searching out the divine priestess for battle meetings or new instructions or other such business, when her busy schedule does not allow her to come down to find him - and it’s this which has forced him to pay attention to the shy, gentle shrine maiden who has seemingly been assigned to look after him whilst he is there. oh, he’s incredibly guilty about it - not only a civilian, but a shrine maiden, who is supposed to be sweet and pure and who he knows could never truly reciprocate his advances-- but that doesn’t stop the fact that the merest spike of your scent on the air makes him want to whine and paw at the ground and hope that how hard he is isn’t visible. you’re so sweet to him. one of the first times he had come, you had offered him some sweet treat you’d baked, and gorou had fallen fast and hard - and that you’re always happy to see him, shy but polite, lovely and - to his dog brain - so obviously fertile it hurts him does not do a thing to assuage his guilt. and when you occupy his thoughts so completely it’s no surprise he spends his night, in tents, hoping nobody hears him . . . he imagines you on your hands and knees before him as he ruts into you and bites and scratches at your shoulders, as you beg him to fill you up with his seed. 

ayato is terribly glad his sister has made a friend. though she does her duties without complaint and the world at large seem to adore her, he knows her well enough to see her loneliness - and so, your sunshine-bright presence is welcome. he adores the way you bring her out of her shell so carefully, the smile on her face after she’s spent a few hours with you . . . so it’s an awful pity that he can’t look at you over dinner without imagining dismissing the servants and railing you over the fine polished table until you’re crying out his name with your fingers curled helplessly into his shoulders. you’re simply so . . . loyal. so adoring. you have big puppy dog eyes and an eager, friendly nature that makes ayato want to teach you absolute obedience and have you following every order that he gives you as if it’s a life or death situation. he wants you to breathlessly thrust your hips back into his as you pant out, in between his own smooth, measured ones, the question of if you’re doing a good job. he wants to hear you ask how you can fuck him better, how you can make him come harder . . . and it’s the thought of teaching you to be a perfect desperate-to-please doll for him that makes him groan into his fist as he ruts his hips into fine silken sheets. 

thoma understands nobility, after spending so long working for the kamisato clan. he understands arranged marriages and what matches are appropriate and which are not - and it’s this which makes him know that no matter how his eyes linger on you, you’re too far above his station for anything to ever come to fruition. when he is schmoozing in his capacity as housekeeper to esteemed guests of the yashiro commission, he does his best to not give you any special treatment - but it’s hard not to notice you treat him like more than simply the help. hard not for him to notice the pretty shape of your lips and the glint of your eyes, to laugh when he’s surprised as you whisper some joke in his ear. he thinks that it must simply be that you are a good, kind person . . . but for thoma, the thought of those lips and that laughter and that teasing smile are most likely to haunt him on nights when he is aware of how alone he is in his bed. it’s those nights he imagines how your teasing laughter would pitch and break whilst you straddled his lap, as he gently thrust his cock inside of you until you were boneless with pleasure with your arms about his neck. it is a good job that he is the one to do laundry so often, for nights after your visits mean his sheets need a thorough cleaning. 

diluc considers himself a good employer. he’s certain that the maids and the barstaff and the winery workers would consider him the same; he’s polite if a little distant, he pays them well, he doesn’t get over-familiar but he does make a habit of knowing a little about them . . . but you, one of the new bartenders in the angel’s share, are certainly making this difficult for him. he interviewed you himself, and perhaps (it is shameful to admit it) he may have hired you simply because he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, but you have certainly done your part to make sure that he doesn’t regret it. you’re a very fine worker - which makes it all the worse that every time he sees you, his thoughts are not of praising you for a perfectly mixed death after noon or asking how the sales of his non-alcoholic mixes are going, but instead taking you up to the room he keeps in the angel’s share for nights he stays in town and simply fucking you on the shabby little bed until you’re mindless and drooling and panting with pleasure. nights when he does need to stay in that room and you are the barstaff working are the worst - for, with you so close, how can he not indulge in a little fantasy as he wraps his fist about his shaft and imagines your sweet voice caressing the title of ‘master diluc’? 

zhongli has, for most of his existence, had his pick of lovers to take - but times have changed, and he is now an ordinary mortal, and more than that . . . he is employed, and it would be most unbecoming of him to sour his working relationship with the wangsheng funeral parlour by admitting to his desire for hu tao’s assistant. it is not merely that you talk her down from some of her wilder ideas, but that you are well-measured and intelligent and terribly polite to him, as well as very, very pleasant to look at. the sound of your voice shaping ‘mr zhongli’, the little bow of your head, the soft, shy smile you give him . . . ah, zhongli is not used to not being able to simply have what he wants. but work is sacrosanct. even an unwritten contract - one such as ‘interpersonal relationships at work are frowned upon’ - remains a contract, and so he has no choice but to spend his nights lazily stroking himself, imagining you in various states of undress, your wide-eyed surprise at undoing his trousers and finding two cocks of more-than-impressive size, the realisation in your eyes when you discovered the man who wishes you to service him is a former deity who he has heard you profess devotion and admiration for several times. he can only hope that one day, you will grow tired of hu tao, and that little unspoken contract can be broken so you are his for the taking.  

kazuha is too polite for his own good. it doesn’t matter that he knows you like him; it doesn’t matter if he can sense the imperceptible warming of air when you catch sight of him and smile, that he notices the way that you seek him out and almost hears your heart beat faster when he is in the vicinity. you’re lovely (whilst you’re worthy of poetry that waxes lyrical about your beauty, his poetry about you is surely not worthy enough). and so, he cannot help but think you deserve more than being weighed down by him. he wants to be free just as much as you do, and even if he spends his nights sleeping on grass beneath the stars by your side (and trying not to wake you as he guiltily slips a hand between his thighs and attunes himself to your soft breathing, imagining how it would hitch if he were, for example, to slip between your own thighs and use his mouth on you until your hands tugged at his hair and you came sweetly and beautifully for him), he wants to be entirely sure that such freedom is always available for you. that, he thinks, is what really loving somebody means. 

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #not sfw text #zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #ayato x reader #kaeya x reader #kazuha x reader #gorou x reader #thoma x reader #breeding mention for ts #afab reader implied

[grinserabe]

I’m sure you must have answered this before but what’s your favorite route? Which three houses lord is your favorite? Do you have any personal headcanons?

Oohh

Favourite lord: Claude. But I love all three a lot; all of them are in my top 5 (ish) for sure. I honestly always thought they did a great job making all lords easy to love, but I suppose that's a pretty controversial opinion, lol.

Favourite route: Well, I had the most fun with CF. I don't think it's objectively the best route, but after playing FE for years, I appreciated how CF has a different approach to what we're used to. Also, Hubert is my favourite, and I like having him as my ally. Again, though, I think all routes have something interesting/fun. VW was my first route, and I was convinced it would stay my favourite, haha. But yeah.

I’m also glad we don’t have a golden route. I like that we have four different outcomes that are all filled with losses and tragedies, that we have to make decisions that aren't 100% fair for everyone. It’s just more realistic that way.

Headcanons: I have many, but here are a few off the top of my head:

- Edelgard, Dimitri and Rhea have survivor’s guilt. Well, I suppose that’s just plain canon, but the game never directly acknowledges that’s something all three of them have in common. I like seeing their actions through that lens, though, because you want to compare them to each other anyway & parallels like that are especially fascinating.

- Ferdinand doesn’t have freckles. I’m sorry, but I’ve seen this so often in fanart and fanfic that I have to bring it up here, lol.

- Felix’s mother has reddish brown hair (a bit like his eye colour).

- Ferdinand and Hubert are a bit jealous/envious of each other. Pre-TS, Ferdinand is actually pretty unpopular. He doesn’t have close relationships at Garreg Mach, and the only characters who are friendly towards him are Petra and Lorenz. (We see him the most often with Petra, but it’s clear Ferdinand and Lorenz were always meant to be besties.)

But Edelgard and Hubert are actually the two characters he’s the most “interested” in; they’re the ones he will repeatedly mention outside their supports, no matter the route. I think it’s only natural that he would be jealous of their apparent closeness and trust in each other.

About Hubert: he can be surprisingly self-depreciating, and I like to imagine he can’t help but compare his looks to Ferdinand’s then and now.

I don’t think they ever hated each other, but since the game shoves their contrasts and parallels in our faces, there’s just so much that could make their dynamic more complex and spicy.

- Dimitri wasted no thought on romance during the course of the game, and he probably has something like a second puberty after the war. I always thought the strong appeal of his character is how many meaningful platonic relationships he has. They all seem so effortlessly intimate.

- Claude is scared of emotional intimacy.

- Edelgard craves intimacy, but she's very bad at it.

- Felix occasionally carries treats for the monastery cats with him.

- Characters who always smell amazing: Hilda, Claude, Ferdinand, Dorothea, Sylvain and Shamir.

- Hubert breeds poisonous frogs <3

#asks #anon #headcanons #fe3h

[dearmbti]

henlo, new followers here! (i already love your acc so much 🤍) i just wanted to ask, what is a friendship between an ENFJ and an INFP like? im really curious since i recently made a really good ENFJ friend and he's so supportive and genuine, i love it. he's such a good listener and so fun to talk to it's insane. idk i might even have a teeny tiny lil crush on him(?????) AAAA looking forward to your answer!! thank you so much! x

All of us secretly crush on ENFJs, it’s okay. ;) They probably know it, too, but will downplay it to make you feel more comfortable. Classic Fe.

From INFP’s perspective, ENFJ can be wonderful because they will give you space to express yourself, they will listen, and they will be attentive. They are also consistent and will check up on you often. This can make an INFP feel great because they are acknowledged and listened to. Not to mention that INFP loves how magnetic, charismatic, and expressive ENFJ can be. 

From ENFJ’s perspective, I can see them liking INFP’s for their authentic nature, strong sense of identity, and a well-defined value system. INFPs tend to be passionate and creative people, which is something Fe doms adore. And remember, both personalities have T function as their inferior, so they only feel comfortable and truly at home around those who let their feelings/values rule their world. Anyone who is too dispassionate and aloof is a little off-putting, mostly because it masks what the person actually stands for, breeding insecurity. But with the self-revealing and forthcoming nature of F doms, they should understand each other pretty well, especially as it’s reinforced by preference for intuition.

The problem, however, comes when ENFJ might begin thinking INFP is too self-absorbed. While this can be possible, there is also a lot of room for misinterpretation. For example, INFP might use self-referential examples to showcase understanding (Fi), which ENFJ might misunderstand as them making everything about themselves, as Fe assumes that the emotional environment it perceives is readily available for everyone... And so if you “feign indifference” by appearing aloof and unaffected (mostly Ts or unhealthy Fs), or make self-referential points, you might come across as too self-involved and disingenuous in the eyes of Fe dom... Failing to understand that what comes naturally to Fe doms does not for most people. So despite how thoughtful Fe doms are of people’s feelings states, they might sometimes overlook crucial individual differences, where an INFP might get a little burnt and even wounded.

An INFP, on the other hand, might think ENFJ is sometimes too others-focused at expense of their own voice and feelings. While ENFJ’s proactive, gregarious and expressive nature might make a positive impression on INFP, they might soon realise that the ENFJ holds back a lot, often to their own detriment, as they struggle to connect their personal and public lives/selves. In other words, INFP might soon realise that ENFJ is struggling with authenticity and depth of connection, often choosing to compensate for it by becoming overbearing and meddlesome, all because they themselves don’t really know how to integrate their Ni and Ti.

But despite the potential difficulties, there is so much possibility for a great friendship or relationship. Be aware of potential challenges but certainly enjoy the good things that are happening to you. Do not let MBTI to limit you. What matters more here is personal development and willingness to work on the friendship/relationship. 

Good luck x (and thank you for the compliments!)

#enfj x infp #infp x enfj #infp #enfj #mbti #ask #mbti relationships #this turned out a little biased #i didn't raise enough criticisms of infps to balance out what i said about enfjs #from enfj's perspective infp can seem self-absorbed #too emotional #indecisive #directionless #and ocassionally pointlessly self-destructive #but enfjs have told me they love the creativity of infps too #ahh such a duo

[camellia-thea]

Mechs Warriors AU

So @lucky-sevens​ mentioned a Mechs x Warrior Cats AU and there was a conversation about it here and my brain went absolutely haywire about what they’d look like as cats, and so I did some doodles. I haven’t drawn a cat in a hot second, so they’re a little off, my apologies. 

notes on who’s who and why under the cut, plus an alternate form of Nastya

OKAY bear with me, this might get long. 

Carmilla - Oriental Long Hair. I love these cats, which definitely made them a top choice. They’re weirdly elegant, but also capable of Not Looking Like Cats. She’s a mink seal point, because Points are Pretty. Orientals are known for being talkative, inquisitive and people oriented.

Gunpowder Tim - mixed breed/moggy. One thing I wanted to travel over were his eyes. It wasn’t talked about in the OG post, but,,, artistic liberties, especially since the post about Tim having a Fucked Up face. His eyes glow in the Dark Forest. That is all. 

The Toy Soldier - Cornish Rex. This is because I love them and they look Weird. I felt like TS shouldn’t look like a normal cat? Not sure if that makes sense, but I wanted it to look cat-like, but slightly wrong. In any case, I love Cornish Rexes, and they are baby, but are very weird.

Marius - Abyssinian. This,,, this literally came to me in a dream. I have no other reasoning. 

Nastya - Russian Blue. Look, I kind of had to? But they also do fit her very well. Very elegant cats, quiet and curious. There is also an alternate form which I very nearly used in the final product before deciding against it. Siberian Forest Cat. Yes, it was only for the Siberian part.

Brian - ‘nother moggy. Just knew he was a ginger classic tabby. That is all. 

Jonny (Jonnystar) - he’s a British Shorthair. I would apologize for how wild he looks, I was going to change it, but my partner said that he looked like a gremlin bastard, and said I should keep it for that purpose.

Ashes - Maine coon! because i love them. The colouration is a black smoke, again, because I had to. 

Ivy - again, Moggy. Tortoiseshell with low white. Just because I think the colours fit her, and torties are pretty.

Raphaella - Turkish Angora. This one was on a bit of a whim, but they are famous for climbing into high places to watch their surroundings, which I thought was kinda neat. (My partner is upset I didn’t figure out a way for Raph to have wings in this AU...)

Another note; none of the eyecolours match what the breed/colouration should lead to, but I figure if the Erin’s can give Dovewing three eyecolours, I’m allowed to mess around in this department as well. 

#pffft you can really see where i got tired of drawing cats #the mechanisms #my art #feather draws #i'm not going to tag everyone individually that takes effort

[simon-newman]

Tarantula update

I’m getting close to 2 years of keeping Ts and my... Clutter (is that the term for a group of spiders?) has grown in numbers more than I’ve expected it to.

So. How are they?

As far as i know they’re all alive and well. That’s one thing.

As for the specific spiders.

#01 Tliltocatl vagans (Mio??)

Not really a fan of me taking photos of her. Voracious eater and overall sweetheart to manage. She was biting my poking straw during the last rehouse and getting uncomfortably bold with each pounce.

That is. She didn’t attack me or try to defend herself. She simply considered the straw to be food...

In the end I had to cup her for the move to be possible... Fun fun fun...

I’m like 95% sure it’s a female and (not sure if I’ve mentioned before) one of the name suggestions is Mio.

On the other hand I wanted to give that name to L.klugi if it turns out to be female so I might need to think of another name.

#02 Chromatopelma cyaneopubescens (Typhoon)

Sir not appearing in this summary. He’s still a part of a breeding loan... Or being currently digested by his girlfriend. I’ll call and ask about him in a few more weeks.

#03 Phormictopus Sp. “green (gold carapace)”

Finally got a chance to look at him! First such opportunity since NOVEMBER. It’s hard to see on the photo but his femurs have a bit of green on them.

He’s growing really large - the last molt is almost exactly 10cm in diagonal leg span and my attempt at measuring him when I had the opportunity gave me the result of 11 cm DLS of a kinda relaxed spider. He might be around 12 cm actually.

Fussy eater until recently and overall an ungrateful prick. I’ve checked another molt and he still seems male so... I’ll need another name.

#04 Psalmopoeus cambridgei (Bertha)

Confirmed female and the only escapee in my collection. She has molted again since then and when fully spread she might actually be larger than the Phormictopus above.

The plastic jar I thought would last her for few more months might be too small after another molt.

Also - as before she still sucks when it comes to hunting roaches... Beautiful but annoying spider to deal with.

#05 Lasiodora klugi

FINALLY.

You can actually see hints of how this spider will look ultimately.

Really hoping it’s a female but the last molt was torn in the very spot you need to check to be able to tell...

All right. You can keep your secrets... FOR NOW!

Anyway. The amazing growth rate I’ve been told about? After having this spider for nearly a year and a half it finally started! After dropping it’s sling colors the spider grew A LOT.

I’ve actually rehoused it ahead of time before it molted - expecting this box to last 3-4 molts. I’m afraid I’ll need to rehouse again after next molt. The spider grew by at least 25% and probably more.

#06 Harpactira pulchripes (Gilgamesh)

So... It turns out my most expensive spider is also a male...

He’s not mature yet but I’ve got some good pictures of him and it was pretty obvious even for me. People online only confirmed that.

He’s around 8 cm in DLS and at his age some males mature already. I’m guessing 2 more molts before I need to look for a female for him.

As you can see I’ve rehoused him to a tall jar that’s filled with soil up to about 3/5 of it’s height. The remaining 2/5 is filled with branches. Instead of digging this little bugger decided to make a web castle... He’s not eating either so I assume he’ll molt soon. After that we’ll see if he’ll dig a nice burrow or settle for a nest between branches.

#07 & #08 Phormictopus Sp. “Bayahibe”

Jewels of my collection. Still small slings but they’re much better behaved than the other Phormictopus.

Also - great eaters unlike the other one.

How good are they? Well. Some people out there are worrying about feeding small spiders live food. It’s “for their safety” and not to give them something they can’t handle.

I had spiders that were simply afraid of prey that was “too big” for them.

Those guys? Well...

This is one of them with an adult cockroach. It stood no chance.

So much for the need of a pre-killed prey. The spiders are predators and if they’re willing to pounce the prey they will take it down (and roaches can’t really fight back).

#09 & #10 Chromatopelma cyaneopubescens

The two slings I’ve received for lending Typhoon.

I’ve wanted his offspring but... Well. The breeder insisted I take two slings off their stock instead of waiting for a potential egg sac.

Overall I’ve already got practice with this species and just placed them into larger boxes already to allow some webbing to take place.

Hopefully this time I’ll get at least one female.

#Animal post #Tarantulas #Spider #Chromatopelma #Phormictopus #Tliltocatl #Harpactira #Psalmopoeus #Lasiodora #Tliltocatl vagans #Chromatopelma cyaneopubescens #Phormictopus Sp. Green-Gold Carapace #Phormictopus Sp. Bayahibe #Lasiodora klugi #Psalmopoeus cambridgei #Harpactira pulchripes

[hiraphane]

Things in Fire Emblem: Three Houses that after 200+ hours still never fail to get to me (word vomit incoming):

When you’re sprinting around the monastery at the speed of light, the number of NPCs that exclaim “what the-?!” as you nyoom past them

“Please do not eat the weeds”

Sylvain’s pick-up formula that becomes incredibly apparent when you’re catching up on his support scenes with the girls - “Hey [name], you look really cute when you’re [activity/mood].”

Felix’s disdain for his father. Idk if I’m projecting but something about him unabashedly tearing his father a new one every time they see each other is incredibly therapeutic for me. Honestly, just listening to Felix verbally eviscerate people in general is incredibly satisfying. Go OFF on them, Fe!

The dramatic irony and humor that can be had/found on subsequent playthroughs when you know Seteth and Flayn’s full backstories. So many little things that I didn’t think twice about my first run are suddenly hilarious. (”Which [Saint] is your favorite, Professor?” I know your game, fish girl)

Upside down Claude memes

Hilda absolutely DESTROYING the entire enemy force and then complaining that she’s a delicate flower and the battlefield is no place for her like HONEY YOU’RE A TANK, EMBRACE IT

Placing Dedue in a choke point and activating his trait skill, then watching and laughing as people try and fail to barrel through this impassable mountain of a man, usually killing themselves in the process.

“Stay away!” Bernadetta screams in terror before absolutely erasing a man/woman/otherwise from existence.

“Burn until we meet again.”

“It’s all becoming clearer.”

Literally any and all of Sylvain’s kill/level quotes. He’s carried my dumb ass through so many battles I could probably recite them all in my sleep

How I never fail to - out loud - say “Thot” every time Sylvain’s “Be gone” kill line plays

The much more obscure reference of me - out loud - asking “For combat?” every time Ashe announces “I must steel myself!”

Feral Dimitri

“You lost to ME?” / “*sigh* and I didn’t even enjoy it.” / “You overestimated yourself.” - These are just some of the ones that come immediately to mind, but imagine, if you will, being absolutely destroyed by a pink haired loli or a sleepy wizard or an otherwise very delicate looking high school aged child and then hearing - as you pull in your last dying breath - them say that to you, as they stand over your mangled body. Seriously, these children are fucking savages.

How Sylvain, despite bitching and moaning about crest babies his entire support chain, will inevitably have boatloads of children if you get him a paired ending with a female character. I know his hypothetical family is a product of love not careful breeding, but it’s just hilarious to me. This man went from being pathologically terrified of / disgusted by the idea of continuing his family tree to adding entire branches to it. What an absolute Lad.

Sylvain and Felix’s paired endings. I love my boys so much.

Dedue and Mercedes’ paired ending / Dedue and Byleth’s paired ending. They’re the only Dedue endings I’ve seen so I can’t speak for any of his other endings, but they’re so damn wholesome they make me wanna die.

How much I relate to Bernadetta

How Edelgard goes from “stone cold bitch” to “useless lesbian” depending on whether you go Black Eagles or not

Hubert’s sense of humor. The number of times this man has startled me into a fit of laughter with his dry wit is insane.

Manuela and Hanneman’s bickering

Just how fucking broken Mercedes is as a healer. She heals herself 100% of the health she heals other people AND she can use Physic (meaning she can heal from a distance, which end-game essentially allows her to heal from across the map) WHO ALLOWED THIS ABSOLUTE LASS TO EXIST AND CAN I MARRY THEM????

Dancer Felix / Hubert. What can I say? I like my Dancers feral or otherwise vapid as fuck.

Trickster Dorothea, AKA the embodiment of my gay thirst. Get Dancer Thea outta here, Trickster Thea is where its at.

Hapi. Just Hapi.

LET ME MARRY HAPI AS A FEMC IM BEGGING YOU PLEASE

Mercedes being a gigantic troll and nobody being able to tell if it's intentional or she's just oblivious

Petra and Cyril’s supports and their paired ending. The way they promise “forever and ever” and Cyril doesn’t even stop to think about where Rhea will be during that “forever” is just *chef’s kiss* (literally any support where Cyril doesn’t mention Rhea is *chef’s kiss*)

“IS THIS SOME KIND OF SICK JOKE?!”

Just how fucking offended Ferdinand gets when you try to give a lost item to him but it isn’t his. Like chill out man it wasn’t a concentrated attack on your noble honor, I was literally just asking to be nice and cover my bases.

Lorenz and Leoni’s meal dialogue - “Ugh, you sound like my mother...”

“I lost my brother to bandits... is something I’m sure somebody’s said at some point.” On my first playthrough that was such a YIKES joke from Sylvain, but now when I play I just feel bad because that was him trying to open up and be serious and then he immediately chickened out and backpedaled and came off as a total ass because of it. (I know Miklan didn’t die to bandits, but he ran off to be a bandit and to Sylvain I feel like that might as well be the same thing. Also can we talk about how Sylvain still obviously cares about his brother even though he literally TRIED TO KILL HIM MULTIPLE TIMES THROUGHOUT THEIR CHILDHOOD AND WAS RAMPANTLY ABUSIVE TO HIM, PLEASE SOMEBODY HUG MY BOY!!!!)

Dimitri being the literal hulk and struggling not to break everything he touches

Dorothea and Marianne having themselves listed under their dislikes like BABIES PLEASE LOVE YOURSELVES

The percentage of students who have “ghosts” somewhere on their likes or dislikes. Why are they so relevant? 

How you can infer Edelgard’s entire backstory from her dislikes

“GREETINGS, PROFESSOR!”

Yuri and Hubert literally threatening to kill Byleth and me looking around like John Travolta every time like “DID ANYBODY HEAR THAT?!?!?!?!”

Me holding Dedue, Felix, and post TS Dimitri back by the scruffs of their necks as they desperately try to solo every map I deploy them on. Like BOYS, please, contain your murder. I know they attacked you first, but the second line needs EXP too.

Forming a protective circle around Dedue during the attack on Enbarr in Verdant Wind, like if ANYTHING happens to my boy I WILL divine pulse don’t fucking test me (PS Dedue, if you could stop charging ahead and pay attention to my carefully constructed plan of attack, that’d be great)

Edelgard’s little ax twirl on her victory screen

“I AM FERDINAND VON AEGIR!”

#if you can't tell i've been playing three houses again #i ordered the rest of the FE lineup because three houses was my first FE game #but they won't come for a few weeks #so i've been hyperfixating on three houses real hard #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe: three houses #fire emblem spoilers #three houses spoilers #expect some art soon maybe idk

[alexmitas]

Abandon Ideology

In Jordan Peterson’s second foray into self-help, he writes his VI’th rule for life: ‘Abandon Ideology.’ As an ardent follower of Jordan’s, on first reading of this, I took this rules’s implications at face value; that is, the implication that an ideology is something that is held by a group of people, but that the individual, striving for what is true and pure, should rid themselves of all ideology, in the interest of progressing new and helpful ideas to the culture at large. Recently, particularly after having watched this YouTube video by Philosophy Tube, a question which I wrestled with subtly after reading Jordan’s recent work has made its way to the forefront of my mind: Are we so sure that it is even possible to abandon ideology? and I don’t mean once you already ‘have one’, so to speak (though this is a valid question also, albeit requiring a few more prior assumptions), but rather, is it even possible for an individual to not have an ideology? (Paraphrased,) Philosophy Tube makes this point explicitly, comparing ideology to a**holes: everyone has them, they use them everyday, but nobody tends to take a good look at their own unless something has gone wrong. So who is right?

Interestingly, both philosophers consider ideology to be something that actually exists - which, to me, is by no means a foregone conclusion. Jordan assumes that it is a sort of group-think parasite that infests the mind, while Philosophy Tube believes that ideology is an inevitable function within the individual. Anecdotally, I’ve noticed that the latter tends to be a more common belief among those with left political leaning, while Jordan’s point tends to be expressed by individuals who are more popular with those with right political leaning*. As we know that political leaning seems to be a result of a temperamental difference between individuals, it could be that this is just another form of what one could theorize as the fundamental question between the extremes of such differentiations, which is the question of whether the individual is fundamentally formed through nature or nurture. I have personally arrived at the conclusion, as have others, that the answer to this question is clearly both; however, the question of whether or not ideology is fundamentally group-oriented or individual-orientated doesn’t quite fit neatly into the dimensions of this theory. This is because, in no small part, that the roles of thought in regards to ideology in this case are antithetical to the typical hypothesis presented by the theory: in this case, the left leaning individuals are the one’s more likely to believe that ideology is an innate characteristic (nature), where as the right leaning individuals are more likely to believe that ideology is a product of culture (nurture). While it may not be a perfect comparison, this is the reverse of what an individual who agrees with this line of logic would likely guess. Is there a reason for this?

Perhaps it is the more fundamental tenant of conservatism, which tends to prize its own culture’s tradition, that demands from its right-wing thinker a bias in believing that their own way of interpreting the world is the ‘correct’ way to do so, based on the interpretation of the facts of ‘objective reality,’ which is free of ideology, because that is the way it is has always been; or perhaps it is liberalism’s inclination towards progression - its greatest strength and weakness simultaneously - that forces it to be open to all possibilities, and therefore implying that there is no single way of being, there is no objective reality, because reality could be anything based on the individual’s own subjective experience, based on their own ideology, which must therefore be present in all of us; or, perhaps, (and this is in no way to imply a comprehensively exclusive list) there is the consideration which I mentioned above, which questions the existence of ideology as an objective truth altogether. 

[Aside: for sh*ts and giggles, let’s explore this last idea. So ‘ideology’, stems from the french word idéologie, where idéo- or ideo- is “idea”, and -logie or -logy is “the (scientific) study of the subject field represented by the stem.” (From Merriam-Webster.com). Also from Merriam-Webster: “Though ideology originated as a serious philosophical term, within a few decades it took on connotations of impracticality thanks to Napoleon, who used it in a derisive manner. Today, the word most often refers to ‘a systematic body of concepts,’especially those of a particular group or political party.” So according to this definition, ideology is more of a strictly philosophical or scientific term referring to the study of ideas. Well, everyone has ideas. But somehow this definition doesn’t quite seem to fit the bill. It seems as though both sides of the political spectrum seem to regard ideology as something deeper than the this definition gives it credit. It seems as though according to the political (to use a loose term to define the parameters of this debate) debate, believes that ideology is either a type of group-oriented idea that can inhabit a large swath of people, or it is the fundamental subjective framework that the individual uses to interpret the world. Of course, I doubt many serious thinkers on the right would deny that everyone needs a framework for which to use to interpret the world (Jordan Peterson certainly doesn’t). Instead, they would argue that framework is not the same as ideology, but simply a tenant of being human, as a combination of both an individual’s objective and subjective experience (and of course one could argue about whether objective experience actually exists also, but that’ll have to be another topic for another day; today we will assume that both objective and subjective experiences are real). But this also begs the question, why is it that some people can have an ideology while others can be free from it? This brings the argument illustrated nicely by Gad Saad into play; namely, that ideology is the equivalent of an idea pathogen, echoed by the complimentary position presented by Jordan’s work which contends with the idea that although not everyone need be infected by an idea parasite, everyone must have a narrative framework to operate in the world. This in and of itself, of course, asks us to contend with the question of whether or not there is even a difference between this “narrative framework” and ideology, to which we may get different answers based on the political leaning of the person whom we ask. As my inherent bias seems to lean to the right in most cases, my intuition tells me that there is a difference, that narrative framework is superordinate to ideology, but again, its difficult to assess whether or not that is my tendency towards conservatism and its respect of (let’s say the west’s) cultural background getting in the way of objectivity, sustaining that objectivity is real in the first place. But to play devil’s advocate to the side opposite to my intuition in a different way, I would say that it’s possible that the real problem is that we do not have our definitions straight: what is ideology to one may be narrative framework to another; and in this sense, I might also add that it is entirely possible that ideology itself does not exist past what may also be considered a narrative framework, since what one would call an ideology another may say they are only acting in according to their own narrative framework (or, “yes, I do have an ideology, but - of course - so do you). The obvious argument to refute this would likely refer to the nature in which an individual with an accused ideology would hold beliefs which mirror that of another individual with the same ideology, therefore rendering the ideas non-unique. And this is indeed a powerful argument. It’s also an argument which, hitherto, I never second guessed. But thinking now, of course it isn’t the case that two individuals narrative frameworks cannot be influenced by similar subjective experiences. This gets more complicated when you compound uncountable numbers of people who have “the same ideology,” and therefore expressing similar subjective experiences that derived their narrative frameworks; after all, could that many people really have had such identical experiences that they are brought to such similar beliefs independent from and “idea parasite” or ideology? Maybe not, but also, maybe the subjective experiences and narrative framework (or ideology), of the accuser has led them to a sort of confirmation bias, where one signal of similarity leads them to the expectation of uniformity; where the sight of a leaf of a certain type or color leads to certainty that that leaf must belong to a specific breed of tree, rather than perhaps a tree of only similar lineage. In this regard, with special consideration given to the possibility of miscommunication of words and their definitions, it is possible that the deeper form of “ideology” within the context of our current culture, does not even exist. It’s certainly a possibility which I will be keeping my eyes and ears on, anyways. End Aside.] 

A conclusion about who is right certainly won’t be reached in a blog post by me today. What I can conclude from this thought experiment, however, is yet another example of why your intuition - based from your temperament and experience - can lead you astray when considering complex questions. Or even seemingly non-complex issues, for that matter. The perspective that Jordan Peterson provides may very well be the correct one. But the perspective that Philosophy Tube highlights as well feels as though it could be superior. Then there is the possibility that they are both wrong - or both right (it is such a strange world we live in, after all, where paradoxes are known to exist). One thing is for certain: both of these people are much smarter than I, so, as per usual, there is much left to consider and ponder. And to gather erratically.

One day I will start to write blog posts that focus more on my reader than my inner ramblings. But for now, I still need to sort myself out, and I hear writing can be incredibly useful for that. This is ErraticWoolGathering, after all.

Best,

- Alex 

*An example of this that I can bring to mind is exemplified by Gad Saad, author of The Parasitic Mind, who similarly claims - as I understand it - that ideology is a matter of group-think, or in his words, that an ideology is no different than a type of “idea pathogen.” Now, whether Gad claims to be of right political leaning or not (as far as I know, he does not), his book and his ideas clearly seem to be more popular with the the right-wing of our culture than they are with our left-wing.      

#philosophy #JordanPeterson #Philosophy Tube #writing #ErraticWoolGathering

[raptorsandpoultry]

Hello! I just discovered your blog a few days ago and I love it! If you had the time I had a quick question... I was recently corrected(?) by some local chicken keepers that apparently the rooster “shuffle” is actually an attempt at dominance? I’ve looked online and it seems quite a few other people agree with the sentiment and believe that the action precedes an attack on the owner. What are your thoughts on the matter? I just thought it was cute!

Hi! Thanks for the really interesting ask. I thought I had a quick answer to this, but ended up doing a lot of digging and learned a cool new thing in the process

First off, it is cute! It’s my second-favourite rooster behaviour after tid-bitting, and it always used to make my heart melt when my rooster “shuffled” for me. Anyway.

The rooster shuffle, or waltz, in which the roo tips one wing down and shuffles in a little arc around a hen (or a person), is most certainly a courtship behaviour that is not directly linked to dominance. Anyone who has a balanced flock and has taken the time to observe interactions between a roo and his hens can attest to this. Here’s a video for anyone who has no idea what we’re talking about: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRX-O9RVUpo

As always, my first thoughts are to educate and remind people that the assumptions and expectations we have about an animal’s behaviour have a direct impact on how the animal responds to you and actually ends up behaving. If you label a rooster’s behaviour as “dominant” or “aggressive” because that’s the simplest explanation you can come up with without taking the time to empathize with him and consider other causes behind his behaviour, then that is the attitude that you will approach him with. He will definitely pick up on this, since that preconceived attitude will influence your own behaviour – whether you approach him timidly and then run away because you’re scared that he’ll “attack”, or march up to him aggressively with the intent of asserting your own dominance (which is almost always a big no-no in animal training; treating animals as our equals will yield the best results). As a result, you cause the rooster to feel threatened/scared/etc., which in turn leads to an “attack” (aggressive biting/chasing/jumping/lunging in self-defense, etc). Before I go off on this whole rant again, here’s a post where I talk about this in more detail.

Also keep in mind that while local chicken keepers and backyard chicken forums can be a fantastic resource for most topics, if they don’t have a scientific background you have to take opinions about other things (misinterpretation of behaviour, inappropriate medical “advice”, etc.) with a grain of salt. When it comes to normal rooster sexual behaviour, waltzing is usually associated with chasing of the hen, and afterwards, mounting her if things go smoothly. Could it be that when roosters end up directing these behaviours at people, owners might be misinterpreting chasing as the rooster’s attempt at angrily driving them away, and mounting/jumping onto feet/legs as an aggressive attack? It happens all the time with inexperienced parrot owners who inadvertently cause their birds to become sexually frustrated and then misinterpret masturbatory behaviour (directed at hands, feet, ponytails, etc.) as attacks, among other things.

Also interesting to note is that with selective breeding, the tendency to demonstrate certain behaviours can be altered in different ways. For example, one recent paper found that roosters bred to be more fearful exhibit more intense courtship behaviour than roosters bred to be less fearful of humans. Though the difference was only significant with respect to tid-bitting behaviour, with only a slight, but insignificant tendency for high-fear roosters to perform waltzing more often than low-fear roos. Neat finding, but it’s nearly impossible to generalize from there. Are roos that waltz often more likely to perceive threats and respond with fear-related aggressive behaviour to their owners misinterpreting them (and showing their own dominance behaviour)? Without any evidence, it’s hard to say. And even then, every roo is different and responds to stimuli in different ways, so without being there in person to see what’s happening, I couldn’t tell you why a given roo “attacks” his owner after a waltz, if it can even be labelled as an attack in the first place.

As I mentioned, I always loved it when my roo waltzed for me. I would respond by crouching to get to his level and gently petting his back as he waited for his favourite treat (no one asked, but it was blackberries).

Another long-winded answer for the books. Hope this answers your question, anon!

References:

Johnsen TS, Popma SL, Zuk M. Male courtship displays, ornaments and female mate choice in captive red jungle fowl. Behaviour. 1995 Jan 1;132(11-12):821-36.

Katajamaa R, Larsson LH, Lundberg P, Sörensen I, Jensen P. Activity, social and sexual behaviour in Red Junglefowl selected for divergent levels of fear of humans. PloS one. 2018 Sep 26;13(9):e0204303.

Rushen J. The development of sexual relationships in the domestic chicken. Applied Animal Ethology. 1983 Sep 1;11(1):55-66. 

#ask #anonymous #rooster #chicken #animal behavior #birds #original post #backyard chickens #pet chickens