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randomfoggytiger · 1 year

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I posted 820 times in 2022

That's 820 more posts than 2021!

52 posts created (6%)

768 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@swinging-stars-from-satellites

@everythingfox

@baronessblixen

@antiqueanimals

@muldertxf

I tagged 820 of my posts in 2022

#art - 308 posts

#txf - 186 posts

#parodyisreality - 148 posts

#life - 91 posts

#animal - 79 posts

#poetry - 28 posts

#meme - 28 posts

#x-files - 23 posts

#fic - 21 posts

#collector's edition - 20 posts

Longest Tag: 79 characters

#while in the ep she has genuine affection for her husband while being tormented

My Top Posts in 2022:

Arcadia Analysis: Mulder’s Struggle

Contrary to popular belief, it was Mulder (and not Scully-- my long post of her experience here) who was having a rough time in Arcadia.

When Mulder arrives, his enthusiasm shines brighter than Scully’s placid happiness, momentarily distracting her, the neighbors, and the viewers to his true mood: dour, trapped, tense.

He immediately oozes saccharine charm and cuddles up to Scully,

See the full post

34 notes - Posted November 28, 2022

X-Files Collector’s Edition: Time Travel, Time Loops, and Just Wrong Timing

Time travel and loops were explored sparingly in the X Files universe; but what is a fandom without a handy dandy dump truck filled with more AUs to add to the fic landfill? These are just the few that passed my litmus test, either by earned merit or because there was at least something in them that was worth reading. Which ones are which is up to you, though I recommend ChaneenW’s, FridayAt9′s, somanycandle’s, Jo-Ann Lassiter’s, Donna’s, and Lolabeegood’s works (maybe because they have the happiest outlooks by the end.)

(**Edited: included @iwtbscully’s Nine Minutes? short**)

Loose chronological order below~

Here we go!

Timeline (mostly) Intact

vessel (saved at orphan_account on Ao3)

““The scientific explanation for all this is overwhelmingly simple: salt blocks hydration, dehydration rots the cells composing the human body. In spite of this, I am struck once again with the improbability that the laws of nature would mutate to allow such a phenomenon, to make a human being age fifty years in a matter of hours.””

Dod Kalm old Scully waits for death, pondering science and impending death.

Sheryl Nantus-Sheryl Martin’s (FFN) Nine Minutes

““It was a long time, when you sat and timed it.

Watching the digital figures spin up through the cycle; headed for the top figure of 9:00. Or 540 seconds. Or whatever you measured it by.

It was still nine minutes. Nine minutes that she could never have back again.””

Cancer Arc Scully has lived her life in her own self-imposed time loop: continually obsessing over the 9 minutes she lost in the Pilot, trying vainly to regain them back by resetting her watch every few minutes.

It’s not quite a time loop; but Scully is locked mentally in one, so it counts.

((BONUS! Works well with--

@lyndsaybones’s (Ao3) Incremental

““The watch fit her perfectly when she got it. He remembers thinking that it seemed child sized then. Do they make Omega watches for kids?

But the weight started sloughing off of her like autumn leaves and he started to feel more fear than hope. The watch starts telling more than time.””

Mulder observes the measure of Scully’s decay with her expensive new watch.))

ChaneenW’s

The Birds and the Bees

““We’re in this together,” he insisted, turning to look at her face.

“We’re in this together,” she repeated, squeezing her arms more tightly around him.

“We just need to find a way to remind ourselves,” he said, starting to slur a little as his face froze. “Some small thing that we do or say could change the whole sequence of events and maybe knock ourselves out of the loop before it gets this far.””

FTF albatrosses of Antarctica keep resetting Mulder and Scully’s journey from the hallway and escape from the alien spaceship (with varying results) until those two right the wrongs the bee made. It quickly devolves from any possible angst into humor and heart while getting subtly funnier the longer the loop goes.

Twice Upon a Time

““The more time he spent here, though, the more it became uncomfortably clear that Eddie hadn’t been wrong about him. He had been a loser back then: too focused on searching for the big answers to see what was right in front of him. And although he’d been immediately attracted to Scully when they first met, had instantly respected her knowledge and expertise, and had come to quickly trust her with his life, he had to acknowledge that it had taken him longer than it should have to realize how much he loved her.””

S9 Mulder wakes in his old apartment, confused to learn he has traveled back to the Eddie van Blundht case. At first he has fun breezily solving it and looking anew at his life; but soon S4 Scully notices how differently he’s acting as the glitz and glamor of time-travel fades and homesickness sets in.

@fridaysat9′s (Ao3) A Second’s Fraction

See the full post

43 notes - Posted October 21, 2022

X-Files Collector's Edition: Overview

Two years into this fandom, I noticed an appalling lack of collective lists: “if this, then that”, “the best of the best”, “collaborative works amongst authors and also their own separate works”, and the dreaded “was this worth the hype” lists.

After bumbling around in Google Docs--compiling, grabbing alternate links, and changing my filing system every two seconds-- an idea took root and bloomed: why not share my treasure trove? There is value to this reclusive hobby, after all; and it could prove useful to others lost and alone on this site.

So, I’m putting onto this floompy site the very best recommendation fic lists... or, if that’s too ambitious, fics that should be shared, discussed, or talked about more. Or ones I just liked. So there.

I am always open for recommended topics, authors, specific fics, and criticisms to improve my current system. Cool hastag suggestions are encouraged.

Also, shout out to LilyDaleXF-- hope this doesn’t tread on her niche. I’m focusing more on entertainment and sharing selective interests rather than being a greater force for good. But she’s the OG. Check out her Masterlist here:

LilyDaleXF’s Masterlist

So!

Here we go. Buckle up!

45 notes - Posted September 16, 2022

X-Files Collector’s Edition: Creepy and Cozy Cabins

Cabins: the final destination of many, many fic tropes. For our intrepid heroes, cabins are a great setting for either great understandings of relationship-kind, or a temporary haven from their chaotic and bloodthirsty world. I like to keep an eclectic assortment of such fics and mix them all together like a crazy salad.

Loose chronological order below~!

Canon

aka Jake’s (Gossamer) 14-Day Quarantine (Gossamer)

““Mulder?" My name rasps from Scully's throat.

Ignoring the nurses' scowls, I return to her bedside.

She clears her throat, takes a shallow breath. "I'd've...preferred Bigfoot."

Me, too, Scully. Me, too.””

Post Darkness Falls Scully is not out of the woods, and is devastated at news of the ranger’s death. She slips back and forth between recovery and coma while Mulder tries to bolster hers, his, and Maggie’s spirits.

the_eternal_optimist’s Unheard Of

““The men barged right in, broke the lock on the door. I pulled my gun, told them I was FBI. They were on me before I could even move, Scully.” She winced. “A few of them had baseball bats. One of them had a—a rope, or something heavy like that. I lost my gun before I could even fire it. I think I took a bat to the back of the head.” He sighed heavily. “When I came to, I was like you found me—clothes gone, hands tied.”

“And they just stashed you there under the stairs?” she asked in horror.

He grimaced. “They, uh, they actually dragged me out to the tree line,” he stammered, suddenly sounding very small. “Threw me closer to the forest. Then they, uh, they took that rope to my back. Said something about beating the devil out of me. I think I passed out when it got too painful.””

Beginning in Chapter 3, Scully finds Mulder in the woods-- beaten to a pulp and covered in mud. She cleans him up in a nearby cabin; but his violent marauders return, not deterred by the protections of an enchanted house.

Juliettt‘s Confusion

““A sudden flash of light momentarily blinded her and she dropped to a defensive crouch.

<Silly. That's Mulder's flashlight -- he burst through the back door at the same time that you. . . .>

And then the crushing pain in her skull, the brief moment of terror and surprise, and blankness. . . .””

S2-3 Mulder and Scully wake with amnesia in a cabin. With Scully’s barely-there memories, she becomes a believer while Mulder scoffs at her “tall tales.” Skinner, flummoxed with their disappearance, arrives too late for true answers.

@discordantwords‘s (Ao3) Somewhere North of Fiji

““Behind her, she heard the slosh of water and a furtive sound, a strange squelching that she couldn't place. She glanced back at the water, saw nothing, then looked over at Mulder. He had the phone to his ear and did not seem aware of anything amiss.

She became aware of a strong odor, the stench of rotting fish.

"Mul-" something grabbed her from behind, needle sharp teeth sinking into her ankle. She tipped backwards, and the last thing she saw was Mulder's startled face, staring on as something small and gray rushed straight for him.””

S4 Mulder and Scully are half-drowned, half-mauled by the Fiji Mermaid who just. Won’t. Die. No matter how many bullets are blasted in its gut.

@sarie-fairy‘s (Ao3) Skamania County

““I’m okay. I landed on something soft, sort of.”

It was then she managed to roll over, move from where she had fallen as Mulder began to descend. As she did, a sharp pain tore at her torso, and her head throbbed.

“Hold on,” he assured.

It was pliable, yielded as she shoved away.

See the full post

62 notes - Posted December 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

How it feels to see your prompt used.

715 notes - Posted October 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#mine #2022 #year in review #definitely from this brain #cool to see everything on paper #that Joey meme BLEW UP #yay for that last minute victory from the Arcadia Analysis bunch #no one can resist a writeup on Mulder angst #this is also the year I was obsessed with animal paintings for some reason #can't explain that one except they were glossy and pretty #and Thorburn is now an obsession #couldn't remember his first name #wow #AND ALL MY POSTS ARE TAGGED!#NICE #wrap up

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hustlemeanokay · 1 year

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NEW STICKERS!

Destiny . Dragon Age . Mass Effect . Cyberpunk . Punk . Meme

51 new listings of sticker packs are up in the shop.

5 pack 1.92'' Glossy Stickers are $0.75 each = $3.75

5 pack 1.92'' Holographic Stickers are $0.80 each = $4.00

5 pack 2.5'' Glossy Stickers are $1.00 each = $5.00

5 pack 2.5'' Holographic Stickers are $1.05 each = $5.25

7 pack 2x1'' Glossy Heart Stickers are $0.60 each = $4.20

Some packs are mixed are priced accordingly. :D I ship all stickers standard USPS First Class Letter mail at $0.60 (the cost of the stamps I currently have as I bought them before the price hike). As soon as I run out of these, the shipping will go up to $0.63.

#the shop #my shop #the punkary #destiny #mass effect #dragon age #cyberpunk 2077 #swag #merch #STICKERS #yaass #punk #meme #pop culture #glossy stickers #holographic stickers

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vampcubus · 1 year

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𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓?

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 : a filthy ramble because i just know kyojuro eats pussy like a man starved.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, oral (f!receiving), sub!kyojuro rengoku implied, meme title cus i do what i want.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 0.6k+

He can indeed eat pussy like that, and will. He’s what comes to mind when I think about enthusiastic oral. Literally worships the cat I don't make the rules.

Settles himself between your soft thighs and tugs your underwear down with his teeth — sometimes he’s too eager to get a taste and mouths your cunt through your panties, soaking the fabric with your slick and his spit.

He’ll slurp and suckle at your sex until your legs are trembling, dragging you back down onto his mouth when the overstimulation makes you squirm. If you want a break you’ll have to twist your fingers in his hair and yank him up by his fiery locks, and the dazed look he sports on his slick-covered face is salacious and hungry.

“Why’d you stop me, my flame?” Kyojuro pants as if he hadn’t made you gush on his tongue several times.

“You know why, you insatiable shit,” you only whine between heavy breaths, and you see those wet lips curl into a grin.

Because he definitely knows when you’ve cum, and purposely pretends like he doesn’t so he can keep lapping at you. He doubles his efforts, sucks on your swollen clit, and slides his fingers in to replace his tongue, moaning into your hot flesh like he's the one being pleasured.

It’s the sweetest revenge; you loved to keep sucking the life from him long after he’s spent his seed, what’s the matter with him doing the same? It’s a thought he keeps to himself lest he inspires you to wring him dry yourself afterwards, though the idea still makes him throb.

Sometimes you'll hear him murmur nonsense against you, muffled whimperings of "tasty. you're so tasty..." eyes all glossy n unfocused like he's in another world while he fucks you with his tongue, laving over your sex between babbles.

Eye contact is important to him, though sometimes he can't help but stare at your cunt as it swallows his fingers, mesmerized by how you clench down harder when you feel his breath on you again.

"Quit fuckin around, kyo. use your mouth more... mhnn," and he's all too eager to comply, pulling out his thick fingers to suck them into his mouth and audible moan before diving right back in for seconds.

Truth be told he likes to be bossed around, to see your brows knit and feel your hips grind impatiently upwards. He knows better than to tease, but he can't help but want to savor your taste.

He absolutely humps his cock against the futon while he’s got his head between your thighs, and frequently creams in his pants when he tastes your cum on his tongue. And if you pull on his hair n guide his head the way you want it while you rut against his mouth? He’s so gone.

Sit on his face, crush his head between your thighs, and use his nose to rub your cute little clit on. He doesn’t care, he just wants you to feel as good as possible. Praise him, moan for him, tell him what a good boy he is and he’ll whimper and squirm along with you.

He'll beg you to cum, to use him to get off, and it's hot. His eyes practically roll to the back of his head when you finally do cum with his name on your lips, babbling curses and mindless praise like you often did. It's too much for him to handle, he has to stuff a hand down his pants and fuck himself into his fist.

And if he ever worked you up enough to squirt all over his face, he’s growling against your cunt, dewy eyelashes fluttering as you shower him with your sweet juices. He treasures your pleasure like it’s his own, but can’t help but scramble up as soon as you’ve come down, pleading shakily into your ear if he can “please please put it in you now” because he wants you to squirt on his cock next.

#‧₊🦇˚⊹ ashi writes #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku x reader #kny smut #fem!reader #female reader #sub kyojuro #sub!kyojuro #sub rengoku #n/sfw

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valaruakars · 7 months

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26 LOVE LETTERS TO KARLACH: A & B (Or, the NSFW Alphabet meme in oneshots)

Karlach x AFAB!Tav/Reader; 1891k; Explicit. Warnings beneath each letter. Ao3 link.

𝔄 - Aftercare Warnings: Cunnilingus, masturbation, hardcore cuddling.

Her lips are wet. Spit and slick. You and her.

“C’mere,” they coax as Karlach sprawls back on the bedroll at your feet, dragging her forearm across her glossy mouth as she goes.

Propped up on her elbows, the laces on her leather pants gape. A wet smear on her thigh catches the lantern light where she must’ve wiped her fingers clean before. Her chest heaves, her bare breasts splay, but above all else, the pulse that backlights her ribcage holds you in a fucked-out trance.

Each heartbeat shifts the gradient. Cobalt at the height, turning indigo as she comes down. Subtle, one color into the next, unlike the way she touched herself to the taste of you and broke with her face buried between your legs, vents on her shoulders breathing blue.

She’s pulsing magenta now, and you’re still just staring. Realizing, distantly, that your knuckles throb because your grip on the tentpole at your back is needlessly iron. Both feet planted firmly on the ground, it’s of no use now for balance—to keep from toppling with your thigh draped over her shoulder, toes curling, legs quaking as her tongue licked impossibly deeper. Your knees are still weak, though. She has that effect.

You blink and there’s the smoldering red, orange, red again. You know it as the color of new love and the flower she picked for you by the roadside this morning; as sunsets spent together, however many are left. You know it, too, as hellfire and blood and all the awful things you came along too late to protect her from. To love her is to wish you could’ve, somehow.

“Everything alright?” she asks, growing worried.

You nod bonelessly—fucked stupid and strangely sentimental, apparently—but that does little to convince her.

Karlach sits up, curling forward to rest her forearms on her knees. The scarred skin of her stomach folds softly above her open pant laces. “Hey…” Her voice is gentle, earnest as ever. “We don’t have to do anything else tonight. Well, unless you’re up for it—in that case, I’ll happily provide. But me? I had more of a cuddle in mind if I’m honest. I just want you close.” Uneasy, then: “…If you want that too.”

It’s not surprising. She’s always eager to thread her spent body around you, the smell of sweat, metal and sex thickened by her heat, but a thought finally occurs to you.

Champion, bodyguard, protector—her arms are as good for cleaving bone as they are for holding a lover, but when was the last time someone held her? Made her feel wanted and safe and cared for in that vulnerable stretch before sleep follows satisfaction? In the morning, she’ll ask if you still like her. She keeps asking like sharing a private joke, but you know better. You know her and what anxiety looks like in her eyes, what it sounds like in her voice; how she blooms for you, made vibrant by a little reassurance. You might know, too, how to stay the doubt before it ever starts at dawn.

“Of course I want that,” you croak, cracking a coy smile at your own raw, scratchy voice. Whoever could guess how it got that way? You pad over, loose linen shirt scantly covering the still-damp curls between your legs. “Scoot, please.”

Karlach wiggles over, smile restored, as you sink down beside her. Her arms move to curl around your waist, to pull you into an embrace as soft and warm as sleep has been beside her lately. But your arms thread around her shoulders and you’re the one to pull instead, gentle and more insistent, different than every other night before.

“What’s this about…?” she starts to ask. Her body is pliant, her muscles are soft. Trusting when life has tried and failed to teach her to be otherwise. She goes easily, guided to lay her head against your chest. Settles in that perfect spot where her broken horn clears your shoulder and her ear is near enough your heart. Her breath slips warm beneath the edge of your shirt as she shudders a quiet, “Oh.”

The moment stretches in sweet, idle touches. Your fingers trace the thick keloids up and down her tricep. They card through her dark hair as the lantern burns low, balancing affection’s scales with each absent kiss to the crown of her head. And before her breathing turns slow and even, before her lips part and the arm around your waist grows heavy, she whispers, “Thank you,” as if loving her the way she needs is any hardship at all.

𝔅 - Body Part Warnings: Alcohol use, shitty attempts at seduction; no, he's not being serious (when you know, you'll know).

Wind through the trees, drink in your hands—the campfire crackles and pops, smoke sweet with pine sap billowing downwind. Huddled in a semicircle, the night is still young amongst the five of you left awake.

There’s Shadowheart to her right, kneeling prim and rigid, leading a one-woman argument by the haughty pitch of her voice, but Karlach isn’t listening. Neither is Lae’zel for once, too fixated on sharpening her longsword to be baited into it. Not yet, at least.

Then there’s Astarion, grimacing with each shallow drink he takes from a green glass bottle. It’s never good wine pried from overturned crates, lost and forgotten on the roadside, but it’s wine nonetheless. Always fucking wine, no matter how hard she wishes for cured meats or bruised fruits. They’re cursed with a bounty of it.

Possibly blessed, on second thought, because then there’s you sitting straight across the fire with dark, hungry eyes and slackened lips. Thoroughly sloshed, shamelessly staring; somewhere so beyond yourself that you’ll have trouble finding your way back in the morning.

Nothing’s going to happen. It can’t on account of her engine, neither would it on account of her principles, but Gods, watching you finger the bottle in your lap sings to her imagination. Over and over, you drag it in and out with the faintest wet pop. You do it so slowly that perhaps it could be mistaken for absent fidgeting to anyone else, but not her. You look Karlach dead in the eye with each and every lazy pop, and the intent is very clear.

It’s so stupid—such a sloppy attempt at seduction that Karlach knows she’d be snorting into her fist if she saw it happening to anyone else. What’s stupider is that it fucking works on her. Trashed and desperate make a heady pair, apparently, and for her part, Karlach can feel the blood rushing down, evacuating her brain like it’s an emergency.

“Alright, yes, we get it,” Astarion suddenly groans, then beneath his wine-soaked breath mutters something that makes you peal a giggle. Well, more of a sloppy chortle, really, but the rose tinted glasses are firmly on at this point. Shadowheart purses her lips, finally quiet; Lae’zel clucks her tongue. “Can we perhaps turn the conversation to something, oh, I don’t know, interesting?”

“Like…?” you ask, lolling your head. Slurring, “Far’s I can tell, your only interests are blood, sex, ‘n fancy shoes.”

“Nonsense, darling. My companions have become a great interest to me, as it turns out.”

His eyes flit around the campfire, weighing some invisible odds. They settle on her.

“Dear Karlach, why don’t you tell us your favorite thing about our little friend here?” he drawls, gesturing to you, mid-swig from the bottle she thought you’d emptied a while ago. You start to smile too soon with it pressed to your lips and that little bit left in the bottom drips down your chin. Down, down, fucking down, and her eyes brazenly follow.

“Easy,” Karlach snorts, because she’s horny. “Ti—” she starts to say, because she doesn’t think before she speaks half as much as she should.

But Karlach clamps the word down before it’s all out in the open and you’re too embarrassed to ever speak to her again. It’s one thing to eye-fuck across the campfire and another thing entirely to let everyone else in on it. She fumbles for a laugh to cover it up that putters into a cough, backpedaling hard as she can. “T—‘Tis an easy question, I mean…” Nailed it. “Got a little tongue tied there. Must be the wine. You know how it is,” she shrugs, “really gets to my head.”

“Funny,” Shadowheart hums, “I wouldn’t consider you a lightweight. Come to think of it, I recall an evening when you drank two bottles on your own without ever stopping to empty your stomach.”

“You try eating the food in Avernus for a decade. Got an iron stomach right here,” she laughs, easier this time, as she flexes and gives it a knock.

Languidly, Shadowheart’s eyes drop. Something about it rakes, appraises. “To match the heart, I suppose?” It’s familiar. She’s seen the same look on your thrice as drunk face all night.

“How generous of you to remind her,” Lae’zel sneers, because for reasons unknown, Karlach has found herself on her good side. But this feels like more than that. This feels sharp, spiteful and goading, hanging heavy between the two women so often at odds.

Karlach coughs again as the atmosphere shifts strangely. “Sorry, what was the question?” she wonders too loudly. On purpose. “Oh—right, yeah.” Karlach shrugs like it’s a casual fact: the sky is blue, grass is green, and you are fucking lovely when you watch her sharpen her axe and think you’re being sly. “She’s got the prettiest eyes.”

“Cute,” says Astarion, dripping with disgust, “but are you quite sure you didn’t mean to say tits? You know, a smutty answer was preferred…”

“What? Psh, no! I would never—” Four sets of eyes are on her now, leveling that you’re-full-of-shit sort of stare right at her in various intensities. “Fine, alright,” she sighs. Knows when she’s caught, and when to surrender. “Respectfully: Tits.” And then for some Godsforsaken reason, her mouth produces the words: “Perfect handful right there, I just know it.”

Across the campfire, your lip wobbles. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Too much, again, and Karlach sucks air through her teeth for an apology.

Before she gets any further, “That is… the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” you sniffle, flopping bonelessly toward Astarion like you mean to hug him. He’s faster, cat-like as he shifts away and stands, leaving you in the dirt. Literally.

“Whoever thought the bar could be so low?” Shadowheart murmurs, getting to her feet too.

“Yes,” Lae’zel agrees, a rare and beautiful thing, “that is incredibly sad.”

Karlach doesn’t have the presence of mind to think it’s strange that she follows Shadowheart off into camp. Not as you blubber just out of reach, a self-proclaimed ‘emotional drunk’ no longer when here’s the soggy proof.

The good news: She still likes you. A lot. Even as wave your arms to the starry sky and bemoan how the Gods gave their toughest battle to their weakest soldier. Not in reference to the tadpole or the goblins or the inevitable horrors to come, just that you can’t, quote, ‘get your hands on Faerûn’s most perfect ass,’ without getting scorched to the bone.

The bad news: For the same reason said hands are not on her ass, nor is her tongue in your mouth, she can’t exactly put you to bed.

The worse news: Astarion’s certainly not going to help.

He sighs, forlorn, and pouts, “So, no orgy?”

#karlach #karlach x tav #karlach x reader #bg3 #my writing #mdni #god bless the bg3 team for second person narration tbh #was I writing pure reader insert? did I actually have a tav in mind?#you'll never know ✨#also pls clap i made that gif myself 🥺

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bonny-kookoo · 7 months

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Hey Ninny!! Do you know the "meme" (i mean... it's not really a meme...?) of "There's a dog/cat at the party" or "When i see or find a dog/cat at the party" ? I think a drabble with that and your hybrid or even alien fics would be funny 🤣 like "that's one fucking nice human right here🥹!!"

I literally just made a new Alien kook did I...

While everyone else is busy drinking, socializing and most of all partying, Jungkook has found a different way to have fun at the party of his human friend.

The alien himself is a little less social, coming from a culture that tends to just stay by themselves, so it's not surprising to anybody that they can't find him at some point- which he welcomes. Because that means, no one's gonna interrupt this moment he's having with you by looking for him.

Earth hybrids, to him, are fascinating.

While their backstory is anything but glamorous, he can't help but be just absolutely enchanted by the way you behave and most of all interact with him. Your rounded, large fox ears are absolutely adorable to him, soft to the touch, and he just wants to wrap you up in his sweater and protect you forever every time his eyes glance at the long healed scar- the ear a little torn on the side, though it doesn't seem to bother you.

Instead, your sandy blonde tail happily wags occasionally as he talks to you about how his planet looks like and what things he likes to eat and do in his free time, while he brushes your hair out after helping you detangle it from the back of your collar.

He had met you by pure chance just an hour prior- having looked for something to snack on in the kitchen, and instead finding you with scissors in your hand, eyes all glossy with unshed tears as your thoughts rush into his head. They're not very clear, a little muddy, and he's not sure why he can't hear them as well as he can hear other people's inner monologues- but it doesn't matter, really, considering that he understood the predicament you were in right away, having gently taken the scissors away from you to instead detangle your hair from your collar instead.

Hoseok never told him he was fostering a hybrid- but granted, Jungkook also never really asked.

So instead, he sits in the kitchen with you the entire party, rather having you sit on his lap and lean against his chest while he watches some videos of his home planet on his phone with you, until he has to chuckle, noticing you having fallen asleep, hands clinging to his jacket. Maybe it's because you're not entirely human- maybe that's why he can't really 'hear' you, and maybe that just adds to this.. curiosity that he's already developing.

And when Hoseok later on starts to bring the dishes into the kitchen, he's a little surprised to see his alien friend with you on the kitchen chair-

both of you fast asleep, Jungkook's arms securely around your body.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #alien!jungkook #alien jungkook

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thepastisalreadywritten · 1 month

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It was always going to end this way. The truth about Catherine Middleton’s absence is far less funny, whimsical, or salacious than the endless memes and conspiracy theories suggested.

In a video recorded and broadcast by the BBC, the princess says she has cancer and that she had retreated from the public eye to deal with her condition, while attempting to shield her children from the spotlight.

Instead, she had to contend with the internet giggling about whether she’d had a Brazilian butt lift.

My colleague Helen Lewis summed it up succinctly this afternoon: “I Hope You All Feel Terrible Now.”

What is there to learn from such a sad situation? The internet is made up of people, yet its architecture abstracts this basic truth.

As I wrote a few weeks ago, at the center of this months-long story was essentially “a sea of people having fun online because it is unclear whether a famous person is well or not.”

Underneath the memes was always something a little bit gross and indefensible.

Perhaps humans are just wired this way — to gawk and gossip.

There’s nothing new about hounding a member of the royal family or invading the privacy of a celebrity to sell tabloids or go viral.

You don’t even have to be a scold about it: Famous people are wealthy and beloved at least in part because they’re fun to talk about.

Exactly what we do and don’t know about their internal lives is part of the allure — the discourse comes with the territory to a degree.

But Catherine Middleton, of course, is a human too.

During this saga, I kept thinking about the reappraisal of Britney Spears in 2021, as well as the backlash toward past media and tabloid coverage of her rise.

A New York Times documentary dredged up old coverage of Spears from the mid-aughts, showing a young woman clearly in distress, being picked apart by glossy magazines.

Her suffering became entertainment. The response to this film was swift.

Some of the people and institutions that had shamelessly delighted in her pain backtracked: Glamour publicly apologized to the pop star on its Instagram account, noting, “We are all to blame for what happened to Britney Spears.”

Contrast the Spears reckoning with the Middleton drama and, if you’re being generous, you can see some of that newfound attitude in the media.

I was struck by Lewis’s observation that “Britain’s tabloid papers have shown remarkable restraint” throughout this mess.

Progress, perhaps, but what’s also telling is that they didn’t really need to do the dirty work: Random people on the internet were doing it for them.

They recklessly speculated, memed, and used their amateur sleuthing and networked faux expertise to concoct elaborate, semi-plausible explanations for her absence.

Was Catherine’s face actually Photoshopped from a Vogue spread? It wasn’t, but the conspiratorial tweet got 51.1 million views anyhow.

Missing from much of the discourse was the idea that its main character was a person who was likely struggling.

In essence, the internet democratized the tabloid experience, turning the rest of us into paparazzi and addled editors workshopping headlines and cover images — not to sell magazines but to amass some kind of fleeting online popularity.

In my least charitable moments, I see this toxic dynamic as the lasting legacy of social media — a giant, metrics-infused experiment in connectivity that has had a flattening, pernicious effect.

In 2021, I interviewed Elle Hunt, a journalist who’d tweeted an innocuous opinion about horror movies one evening and woke up to find she was trending on Twitter, her feeds choked with thousands of furious replies and threats.

When I asked her to describe the experience of becoming Twitter’s main character for the day, she summed it up thusly:

“You’re repurposed as fodder for content generation in a way that’s just so dehumanizing.”

Three years later, these words resonate even stronger.

What Hunt described to me then as “a platform failure,” feels to me now like a learned behavior of the internet, where people, famous and not, are repurposed as fodder for content generation. The cycle repeats itself endlessly.

This afternoon, the memes about Middleton shifted — from jokes about her whereabouts to jokes about how awful it was that everyone had been making fun of a cancer patient.

Feeling bad about the memes tweets immediately became a meme unto themselves.

Despite the tone shift, the reason for these posts is the same: They’re a way to take a person and repurpose their life for entertainment and engagement.

If this sounds exhausting and depressing, it’s because it is.

But the internet is also too big to be one thing. Clicking through social media this afternoon, I saw dozens of heartfelt testimonials, apologies, and well-wishes for the princess.

For a moment, from my perspective, it felt like watching a collective of people come to their senses.

A recognition, perhaps, of the humanity of the person at the center of the maelstrom.

Then, only a few seconds later, I saw a different post. It was a screenshot from the blockchain platform Solana, where users can create their own cryptographic tokens for others to invest in.

The name of the token in the screenshot is “kate wif cancer,” and its logo is a still of the princess sitting on a bench, taken from this afternoon’s video.

The coin’s market cap briefly surpassed $120,000. Only six minutes later, the price had cratered — the result of a standard memecoin sell off.

An awful thing happened. Some people made a joke about it. Other people made some money. And then everyone moved on.

NOTE: Edited

#Princess of Wales #Catherine Princess of Wales #Catherine Middleton #Kate Middleton #British Royal Family #cancer #chemotherapy #internet #memes #fake news #disinformation #misinformation #platform failure #social media

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ars-de-elysium · 4 months

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I may have forgotten to mention, but I added these to my Etsy as prints! I ordered a couple just for fun, but they’re actually so cute on the glossy photo paper they came in on so I added a couple for sale.

The Buggy print is from the tangled meme post from the OPLA series and the Romance Dawn print I made when I first got back into One Piece. They’re some of my favorite pieces I made last year! 😉 (Last year as in 2 months ago.)

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece fanart #buggy the clown #binky the clown #Binky the clowns now an art print #romance dawn #romance dawn trio #opla fanart

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cheetahing · 22 days

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"things you said at the kitchen table" fic meme fill for @thesilversun

"this is biological warfare," di feisheng says, looming large over li lianhua's tiny kitchen table. his shirt sleeves are unbuttoned, cuffs rolled up to the elbows, exposing his powerful forearms where they're folded across his chest. it's a little distracting.

"rude," li lianhua says mildly, valiantly keeping his hands to himself. "you haven't even tried it yet."

"i can smell it."

"not everyone can eat the same three meals over and over."

"nutritional balance is important," di feisheng intones and li lianhua makes a face and but he can't argue. he knows di feisheng's diet of bland chicken and fish and the ubiquitous protein shake is carefully calibrated to maintain muscle mass and physical performance.

"well, you don't care how it tastes anyway, so." li lianhua holds a slightly charred and not altogether identifiable piece of meat up to di feisheng's lips with his chopsticks. "try it." di feisheng's nose wrinkles.

"no," he says.

"come on," li lianhua wheedles, "i made it just for you."

"is that supposed to be an incentive or an insult?" di feisheng's face is impassive again.

li lianhua puffs his cheeks out. "that's so mean," he says, lilt in his voice that suggests he's about to unleash the full power of his theatrics. "do you know how many people would kill to have a meal homemade with love?"

"i think the question is how many people would this kill," di feisheng says, pushing li lianhua's arm away.

"lao di—"

"xiangyi." di feisheng hasn't let go of li lianhua's wrist. he turns it over to kiss the underside, skin thin and warm with blood. "let it go." the chopsticks drop from li lianhua's suddenly lax fingers.

the distance between what passes as the kitchen and the bed in the RV is negligible and li lianhua has a moment to be grateful he sent hulijing out with fang duobing today before he's pushed down onto it. di feisheng is always too large for this space, shoulders wide in the narrow confines of the vehicle, and he fits little better in li lianhua's bed. he eclipses li lianhua completely, and the first time this happened li lianhua had been surprised by how much he liked it. it's familiar territory now, and he goes easily, letting di feisheng press him down into the mattress, opening his mouth for his tongue.

they kiss for a long time, unhurried, li lianhua luxuriating in the the solid heat of the body on top of his. he's cold all the time now, but not like this. di feisheng is like a furnace and he stokes a fire inside li lianhua that he'd rather thought had gone out. he's half hard by the time di feisheng reaches for him, palming him through his jeans. li lianhua makes a wholly undignified sound, hips arching, and feels di feisheng grin against his lips. horrible man.

di feisheng undresses him methodically, hands brushing at sensitive points as he goes without lingering, the expensive fabric of his shirt and slacks whispering against li lianhua's skin. it makes li lianhua twist restlessly beneath him, muttering beneath his breath. di feisheng ignores him, taking a moment to survey him with dark eyes once he's finally bare.

"this is hardly fair," li lianhua says, suddenly beyond the point of impatience, pawing at the silky material of di feisheng's shirt. di feisheng laughs softly instead of replying, pressing another kiss to the corner of li lianhua's mouth before he starts working his way down, nipping and sucking just hard enough to leave marks. he slides off the bed to make room, manhandling li lianhua's hips sideways. he's about to complain when di feisheng's mouth closes over his erection and he gasps instead, hands flying into di feisheng's hair. it's coarse and glossy, sliding through li lianhua's fingers like water when he tugs. di feisheng grunts around his dick, suction increasing even as he reaches out to fumble through the cubby where their bottle of lubricant is hidden inside an innocuous basket.

di feisheng's fingers press in without warning but stay shallow, twisting and rubbing, stroking ruthlessly over li lianhua's prostate. he slides off li lianhua's dick with a soft pop, studying his partner's face as he shakes. he seems to like whatever he finds there because he leans back down, kisses the base of li lianhua's dick, easing down to lap at his balls. he presses his thumb into li lianhua's perineum, free hand coming up to wrap around his dick, and from there it goes embarrassingly fast.

when li lianhua's vision clears, di feisheng is watching him again, a terribly self-satisfied slant to the crooked tilt of his mouth.

"brute," li lianhua says without heat. di feisheng snorts and rocks up to his feet. li lianhua hears the faucet run for a few seconds and di feisheng reappears with a damp cloth to wipe up the mess they've made of his belly. "what about you," li lianhua says, reaching out to trace the seam running up di feisheng's thigh.

"later," di feisheng says, but he does undress now, tugging the comforter out from beneath li lianhua's body before rearranging them both to fit comfortably beneath it. li lianhua lets himself be pulled around like a ragdoll, boneless and sated. he curls into di feisheng's chest once they're settled, yawning against the skin.

"why, lao di," he says, warm and drowsy but still petty enough to want the last word, "you could just have told me you were hungry for something else."

di feisheng makes a noise that li lianhua knows means shut up and sleep. he rubs his nose against di feisheng's collarbone, lulled by his partner's steady, even breathing, and drifts off.

#mysterious lotus casebook #dihua #feihua #li lianhua #di feisheng #fic meme

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hmasfatty · 4 months

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I had a dream last night that there existed such a thing as Tumblr Digest, a magazine like Reader’s Digest but filled with printed out tumblr posts. I had been sent a couple of issues, and one issue changed halfway through from being a glossy, full-colour magazine to being printed on much rougher paper stock, being only in black and white and only printing Medieval-themed memes.

#dreams #tumblr

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rebelrayne · 11 months

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he's back......

what my husband thinks of the season six male islanders with little to no information

aka he based it on their profile in the game. under the cut because it's long.

jamal

black tony hawk. he looks like he's cooking up some drama. obviously hasn't learned to button up his shirt. i don't see how he would have had a threesome cause he doesn't even look like he could have a twosome. small bulge. he has glossy lips. i'm done with him, he's kind of boring.

lewie

his combover looks stupid. did he paint on his five o'clock shadow? semi-pro? what's that mean? he's a fucking weekend warrior? "golden retriever energy" aka he has bad hips. his body just looks gross. it's all elongated and shit... his ears don't match his fucking face. he's got chicken ass legs to be playing football (soccer). he probably cries when he has sex. who the fuck names their kid lewie? he's the kmart version of gary. he looks like he's poor. probably gets drunk off two white claws. his mouth fucking irritates me. it's like he has an asshole for a mouth. show me his picture again - ugh just look at how fucking ugly he is. his personality probably matches his looks.

also was told to attach this meme curtesy of my husband's mind:

ozzy

what the fuck does he tell his barber? like 'keep it long in the front but cut everything else i want no hair on any other parts of my body'. at least he's proportional (unlike lewie). seems like the kind of guy that would invite a girl over to hang out then breaks out a fucking bong. and then gets stoned off his ass. i've never seen that color nipple before. his jaw is the shape of a rhombus. his puppy dog eyes don't work on me. what kind of dancer is he (🤨)? because if he's an erotic dancer, he only works day shift because he's not good enough for night shift.

roberto

he actually looks kind of cool. i don't like the way he holds himself though. he looks like he could be a pirate - he looks like johnny depp. does he have to take his watch everywhere? like that citizen watch doesn't mean you have money, bro.

ryan

he looks like frodo baggins. "we have to save the shire!" probably has some hairy ass feet. he's literally trapped in the body of a 12-year-old and looks like he's 4'10". he's a singer? what's he sing? hobbit songs? where did he buy his shorts? the fucking youth section? (tries to zoom in, gets annoyed he can't). is definitely the one that is going to try to talk mc and amelia into having a threesome - then makes them compete for who's better.

#litg double trouble #litg dt #litg jamal #litg lewie #litg roberto #litg ryan #litg ozzy #he hates lewie #gary mf wannabe

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cookinguptales · 7 months

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just saw someone online talking about don hertzfeldt's "rejected" like it was just some "lol so random" youtube video from the early 2000s and like... yeah, it was funny! and I'm sure the randomness and memeability were a lot of what made it go viral. but I'm sad that it's been remembered that way.

like, that short film was about creativity and capitalism and how imagination is stifled and destroyed when it's forced into the box of "marketability", leading to mental anguish on the part of the artist. it's a message that's only become more and more poignant over the years as all art has slowly been reduced to "content" on the internet, particularly youtube, and I still rewatch it regularly.

yes, the fake ads in it were silly and random and violent and weird, but that's because he was purposefully trying to create the least marketable art possible. it has sex and violence and grotesque imagery all wrapped up in a cutesy art style, and it's the exact opposite of the glossy animation you get in marketing. moreover, the point was that the animations became more and more disjointed and "random" and awful as they were forced to exist in a corporate vacuum devoid of any real meaning. that's why the very world they were living in fell apart in the end.

the whole thing! was a very blatant commentary on the damage that commercialization does to art!

and, in a bout of tragic but entirely predictable irony, the art style that he used for "rejected" was immediately stolen, made more palatable for mass consumption, and used for pop tart commercials. it's not so much the death of the author as it is greedy companies shanking the author and then looting their corpse, y'know? it's completely cleaving any marketability from the shambling corpse of their art and leaving the rest for the buzzards.

it's also odd that they listed the short as being something you'd only know about if you hang out on the weird part of the internet because like... y'all know that short was nominated for an oscar, right? that seems about as mainstream as recognition for animated shorts can get. I have literally gone to showings of don hertzfeldt films at major film festivals. he's well known in the animation field.

idk man! I don't have anything against the lol random style of humor from the early days of youtube (I miss it, actually) but to just boil a painfully earnest short film about the devaluing of any creativity that is not palatable to the mass market and the way that artists' souls are slowly killed as they create art solely for corporate interests down to the gifs and memes that emerged from it has me like

man, media literacy really is getting bad these days.

#especially because it really is not subtle in its messaging #it pretty much comes right out and says it #the world of tomorrow is another really lovely one #both the first chapter and the full version #don hertzfeldt #animation

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