☞ i have a lot of kinks and might list more here as i think of them, but some of my faves are: ☆humiliation/degradation ☆exhibitionism ☆watersports ☆orgasm control ☆bondage ☆cnc/somno (sometimes. this is complicated for me as it is for most people)
☞how to refer to my parts– pretty much any words are fair game. my t-dick is a dick for sure, not a clit, but i like it being called cute/little/etc if i’m in sub space. tits are tits, pussy is pussy (or cunt if i’m looking for someone to be mean to me)
☞ limits (hard pass on these things—some should go without saying but i’ll say em anyway): ☆ageplay ☆raceplay ☆non-consensual rape fantasy—u wanna send me something about how you wanna take advantage of me? ask first ☆ bestiality (actual bestiality, not like furry or monster stuff which can be fun) ☆scat
BARÈRE ARE THOSE EVEN WORDS(*). DID NO ONE TEACH YOU PENMANSHIP. WHY DOES THE COMMITTEE EVEN LET YOU WRITE OUT DECREES WHEN BILLAUD-VARENNES, CARNOT, SAINT-JUST, HÉRAULT, AND SOMETIMES COUTHON HAD PERFECTLY LEGIBLE HANDWRITING.
P.S. - His signature can get even bigger. It can get bigger.
(*) - So it actually becomes decently readable if you zoom, like x300. But my god.
Their signatures are like
ᴿᵒᵇᵉˢᵖᶦᵉʳʳᵉ
ᴮᶦˡˡᵃᵘᵈ ⱽᵃʳᵉⁿⁿᵉ
BBarere
Now I need to know Why
@saintjustitude Found Barère’s birth record, but as far as I can tell, no time of birth. Bertrand was born in Tarbes on 10 September 1755. But here is the record, if anyone wants to check:
The solar eclipse is almost here. What will you do on your special day?
Meeting in the Flesh, a visual novel where you date one of three monstrous suitors, has reached the end stages of production with a predicted release date of March 31st!
The game will be released on itch.io for PC and Mac, and it will be completely free.
We first released our demo on Halloween in 2017, and we’re so excited to finally be able to bring you a final product. Thank you for sticking by us all this time, and for all your messages of support and interest throughout the year and a half that we’ve been working on this!
okay, here it is! my old & short ficlet about older, married clouis ♡
~
It’s been two years since she said “I do” to the love of her life and what an amazing two years it’s been. The days pass by like dreams—soft around the edges, numbingly sweet, her chest tight and full of something like cotton, ready to burst at any given moment. Her heart beats so hard it hurts, and a pleasant, hazy fog clouds her mind whenever his lips are on hers or when he’s simply holding her—even his smiles do this to her.
She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the way he makes her feel.
Two years of being husband and wife. Two years of them in their relaxing solitude.
And then the dream-like bubble popped.
“Do you ever think about having kids?” Louis asked one night.
They were cuddling underneath a large throw blanket on their couch, watching some new family sitcom on television. She couldn’t remember what it was called, but Louis wanted to see it, so there she was.
Clementine reached for the bowl of popcorn balanced in the space between them, her pulse quickening. “I don’t know,” she spoke slowly, her words treading on thin ice. “Do you?”
Louis nodded, his eyes trained on the television even though a commercial was playing. “All the time.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “All the time?”
“Pretty often, yeah.” He looked at her while he grabbed fistful of popcorn. “I saw this cute baby today and I thought about how cool it’d be to be a dad.” He brought his fist up to his mouth. “Made me think about us having a kid of our own.”
“Oh.”
That was the only word she could say. It felt like her throat was closing. How does she tell him without breaking his heart?
He chewed and swallowed his popcorn and then joked, “You sound very enthusiastic about the idea of starting a family with me.”
“Um.” Clem gulped. “I don't… think…”
Watching his smile fall was painful. It stung like a harsh slap across the face.
“Shit, Clem, do you not want kids?” Louis frowned. “We never really sat down and talked about this. I mean, it’s fine if you don’t! I’m not trying to pressure you or anything—I just always thought…”
“Wait, Louis, slow down.” She held up a hand and he stopped talking. “I never said I don’t want kids. I was going to say I don’t think I’m ready to have a baby just yet.” She avoided his eyes by playing with the loose stitching on the blanket. “I doubt I’ll be ready anytime soon.”
He responded with an “oh” of his own.
A moment of silence passed. The air was charged with an uncomfortable tension as Clementine fidgeted in her spot, straightening out her legs and scooting a hair away from Louis.
Maybe I’ll just go to bed, she thought.
Louis spoke before the atmosphere got unbearable. He took a deep breath. “It was wrong of me to just, assume, like that. Ultimately, it’s your decision. I’d never pressure you into doing something you’re not comfortable doing.” His eyes searched hers. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah. I know.”
The conversation started and ended that night. Louis didn’t bring up having kids again, and Clem never asked. There was an unspoken agreement between them that went on for months. They avoided the topic in all forms of conversation, skirting around the subject if it dared rear its head.
If they didn’t acknowledge the elephant in the room, it’d eventually go away, right?
Wrong.
—
A.J invited them to his eight grade fundraising event.
Each class was selling a different product, ranging from baked goods to homemade jewelry to raffle tickets to original art. Families showed up in droves, crowding the gymnasium and filling it with noisy chatter.
Lee, Clementine, and Louis stood amongst the chaos, each with a brochure of the fundraiser in their hands.
“A.J said he would be at the art booth…” Lee said, turning the brochure on its side, studying the simple map made up of shapes portraying the tables. “He’s closer to the back, near the bleachers.”
“Oooh, the baked goods table has Nutella brownies…” Louis murmured, still reading the brochure.
“Hey, focus.” Clem reached for his sleeve and pulled him along to keep up with her and Lee’s pace. “We’re here for A.J.”
“I know, I know! But some of these kids used to be my students so I wanna keep an eye out for them.”
“You still teach piano twice a week, Louis?” Lee asked and stepped out of the way of a passing family.
“Yup. Wednesdays and Thursdays.”
“Mr. Louis!” A young voice shouted above the babble of the crowd.
Louis stopped abruptly. “Speaking of piano lessons…” He looked to his right, and standing behind a long wooden table was a young boy, waving his arm in their direction. “Milo!” Louis exclaimed and waved back. “Be right back,” he quickly said to Clem and Lee before jogging over to the excited kid’s table.
Clem smiled to herself when Louis raised his arm for a high-five and they happily slapped their palms together.
“He’s real good with kids, huh?” Lee’s deep voice broke her out of her reverie.
“He is,” she agreed, admiring her husband in his tan knit sweater and dark denim jeans. “He’s been good with kids for as long as I’ve known him.”
“A.J liked him from the moment they met.”
“I remember.”
“That definitely helped him earn my approval.”
Clementine fixed her adoptive father with a look of disbelief. “Good to know A.J was the deciding factor and not, you know, the way I felt about him.”
Lee chuckled. “I said it helped.”
The pair watched as another kid—a girl with thin blonde hair and a toothy grin—ran up and patted Louis on the arm, grabbing his attention. They also high-fived and started into a conversation.
“Okay, he might be a while,” Clem said. “Let’s just go to A.J’s table. Louis will find his way over to us eventually.”
“Alright.”
It took some maneuvering through the sea of families, but in the end, they came across A.J standing proudly behind his table, an art display assembled behind him.
“Dad! Clem!” A.J called out once he saw his family. He made his way from around his table and enveloped them both in a hug.
“It really does. I’m so proud of you!” Lee rubbed his back.
A.J beamed at them. “Thanks guys.” He glanced over Clem’s shoulder—which he surpassed in height at thirteen. “Did Louis not come?”
“He’s here,” Clementine reassured him. “His old piano students grabbed him before he could make it over here.”
“Aw man, I’ll never see him now.” A.J’s face was crestfallen.
“Is he that popular?” Lee asked with a hand on the young boy’s shoulder.
“Yeah, he kinda is. Half the kids here had him for piano in sixth grade. They’re all gonna wanna say hi.”
A low whistle blew past Lee’s lips. “You’re married to a celebrity, Clem.”
She rolled her eyes with a playful smile.
“Let me introduce you to my friends!” A.J brought Lee and Clementine over to meet his eager classmates.
Watching A.J associate with his schoolmates was sweet. There was a genuine camaraderie in the jokes they cracked and the laughter between them—Clem was glad he got to experience that. Pride swelled in her chest. He’s grown so much. From a quiet, lone child to a self-assured, talkative young teen, it’s like there were two different A.J’s.
“Hey, thanks for ditching me back there.” A familiar voice had her turning around and coming face to face with a pouting Louis.
“Sorry, we thought you’d be a while.” Clem rubbed his arm, consoling. “At least you found us.” Her eyes found a grey plastic bag clutched in his hand. “What is that?” She pointed at it.
Louis lifted the bag. “There’s quite a few things in here.” He reached in and pulled out an origami potted cactus. “Milo’s table was doing these cool paper crafts, so I bought this cute little cactus.” He grabbed another origami craft that looked like a skull. “I got this for you because I know how much you like collecting weird stuff like this.”
Clementine took the origami from him and inspected it. “This is cool.”
“See?” He smirked at her before digging in his bag again. “I also got a bracelet from Ashley and Erica’s table. They’re selling handmade jewelry.” The bracelet in his hand was made up of black beads with a single blue bead. “It’s supposed to calm you down or something.” He took out a Ziploc baggie. “I got my brownies from Imani’s table. There’s also chocolate chip cookies in here for you and A.J, and I know Lee is one of the five people on this earth who likes oatmeal raisin cookies, so I got him some too.”
“Goodness, Lou. Did you save anything for the actual parents to buy?”
“What? Of course! It’s a fundraiser! You’re supposed to buy stuff, that’s the point!”
—
(i’m so sorry it ends so abruptly but that’s because i literally stopped writing it right there )
Hello! Welcome to my kin blog!! I was previously Froggykinz and I wanted to come back and restart sort of, since editing has changed for me quite a bit :D
I’m willing to do many sources, which you can find here! Or search sources on my blog and you’ll find it
And I can do many Edit Types, which I’ll list for you right here (search my blog for examples I’ve posted)
Icons
Gif Icons
Reply Icons
Phone/Computer Wallpapers
Headers
Aesthetic Boards
Stimboards
I’ve been gone for too long to know anyone in the community anymore so I won’t tag anyone, but if you’d like to promo this post I’d appreciate it greatly :D
How each of the Leppards would act if they got their periods:
Joe- The most hormonal. Mood swings out the ass. Will scream in anger then cry 2 seconds later. Will not speak to you and then will be crushing you lovingly within minutes. Random bursts of happiness. Cries and doesn’t know why. Constantly horny and doesn’t know why. Period brain. Grumpus. Can’t decide whether he needs intense cuddles or intense sex. Somebody save him. No solace for him, just let him ride it out and go with whatever he does.
Steve- The most sleepy. Dead. Nothing but naps. Can’t move if he tried. Need to check if he’s sitting on something? Forget it. Just bring him his snacks, put another layer on him, and leave him to hibernate in peace. Maybe be his pillow but only if he so requests. He’s probably binge-ing a tv show because he’s glued to the couch. Deep sleep and hormonal dreams that make him even more tired. True neutral.
Phil- The most crampy. Legs don’t work. Insides are knives. Tiddies are full of ouch. Everything hurts. What are muscles? He wishes he had ones capable of functioning. Too weak to get off the couch so he’s sharing it with Steve. Cover him in heating pads and start him on an IV of ibuprofen. Somebody hold him and give him a foot rub because he needs some relief the poor boo.
Sav- The most hungry. Stomach is a black hole. Cravings out the ass. Just when it seems like he doesn’t have any symptoms, everyone’s suddenly asking where the entire jar of nutella and bag of potato crisps went. Went back for fourths at dinner. Pickles and ice cream. Complains about nausea later as if he has no idea why it’s happening to him. Same goes for bloating. Hide all the food and keep him hydrated ffs. Detox him and make him eat his veggies.
Viv- The one with period flu. Everyone thinks he’s actually sick. He’s cold, he’s tired, his temperature’s up, he’s dizzy, headache, he’s queasy, he’s pale. A little bit of everything. He’s not having a good time. He’s managing and is oddly peaceful, but he’s not enjoying it. Get him some vitamin gummies. Sterilize everything because his immune system is down. Keep his spirits up. Be his doctor and pamper him.
Rick- The one who has no symptoms. Zip. Zilch. He doesn’t cramp, doesn’t get hormonal, no fatigue, doesn’t get cravings, doesn’t get nauseous. He’s perfectly fine. Everyone hates him. He doesn’t see what the big deal is. He’s totally normal and can’t grasp the fact that the others get so sick. This means he’s always the caretaker of everyone else, and he’s okay with that. Still likes to rub it in their faces every time, though. Tell him to fuck off.
We’re excited to announce that the Melittology shop is now officially open for preorders!! Orders will be open from April 12th to May 5th!
The zine is 150 pages featuring work from 6 writers and 46 artists.
Its a 6 x 9in, perfect bound, full color, and 100% of profits are being donated to two incredible charity organizations!
There’s four separate tiers ranging from $15 - $60 USD!
We’re also hosting a give away for two copies of the deluxe bundle on our Twitter but unfortunately give ways are against the TOS for tumblr so we cannot do the same here. If you have a twitter and would like to participate feel free! The entry period for it ends on May 1st!
Orders are expected to begin to ship in late July! This could be subject to change if there are any potential manufacturing delays so keep an eye on our socials for any updates if that ends up being the case!
Let us know if you encounter any problems while using the shop and thank you for the endless support you’ve shown the project so far!
It’s a music video with rapid flashing colours/lights. I have very minorepilepsy, just focal seizures, and I maybe watched ten seconds before literally nothing was real around me and I think I’m going to throw up and have a heart attack.
@ the asshole who sent me that, launch yourself into space and die.
crosa rosa have a history of spam sending videos to people with their submit open, and when confronted about it and the content of their videos before (misogynistic themes, transphobia, no epilepsy warnings), they were complete assholes about it.
re reblog with sources on when it went down before:
ill also mention that, when i called them out on my previous acct (i have since remade), a friend of theirs (tumblr user mountweak) sent me a lot of hate and triggering anons.
Deep in the heart of the city of ghosts, a chisel breaks stone. Alone in the candlelit studio, Hua Cheng bows over the remaining boot and chips away slivers of veined marble. The sculpture is nearly finished, has been for weeks. The details he cuts into the lower foot now are so fine as to be invisible if viewed from any further away than a single step.
Above it, ornate robes are swept back on a frozen wind and a sword halfway from its sheath cuts across the sculpture’s waist. With its weight perched on the front foot as if a breath away from leaping and the candelight rosy across its cheeks and brow, the sculpture looks as if it is only a heartbeat from life. Except—
Hua Cheng takes a step back, tilting his head to survey his creation from toe to brow.
A blank face stares down.
••• Hua Cheng emerges from Mt. Tong’lu looking for someone he cannot name, cannot place, cannot picture. For centuries, he chases fragments of memory—until he stumbles upon a cultivator in white who might be the answer to the questions he has carried for eight hundred years.
