#I put these at the bottom so you don't see them-

[kemistre]

hiii !!! rlly enjoyed revealing (the first time seeing them shirtless one!) and was hoping u cld write it for other characters? would be great if u cld include oikawa & ushijima & anyone else u wld like!! tysm and have a nice day <3

εïз┊𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 — feat. oikawa tooru, ushijima wakatoshi, kuroo tetsurou, akaashi keiji, miya osamu

synopsis. seeing your other half shirtless is a normal part of a relationship, but how do they react when it’s your first time seeing him without his shirt on?

— content warnings. fem!reader, suggestive!, shirtless 2D men (oikawa might just be naked bc i love him <3), pet names (angel, honey, beautiful, pretty girl, darling), written at like 2am and haven't written in months <//3 — word count. 1.2k

εïз┊author's note. ofc nonnie!! i love writing for oiks and writing for ushigushi for the first time what super fun! i know it's been so long since this request <//3 i just felt like writing this today ig😭

εïз┊o. tooru

you looked at your phone, messages pulled up on the screen as you re-read the texts from your boyfriend. 'meet me after practice angel, i'll treat you do a special dinner after~' a sigh fell from your lips as you entered the empty gym. he was always a romantic, and you couldn't say you hated it. "tooru?" your voice was hushed but loud enough for him to hear. Your eyes glanced around the building as you wandered around, the sound of your footsteps mixing in with the echo of your voice. "i'm in here angel, it's just me~" his voice came from the men's locker room, it was teasing, playful, it only made you wonder what he was planning. you pushed open the door slowly before walking in, the sound of running water catching your attention "angel~" as you turned your head, you were greeted by your boyfriend's naked body, water dripping down him as he leaned against wall underneath the running shower. your breath caught in your throat as your eyes raked over his sculpted form. a smirk weaved its way onto his lips at your reaction, closing the distance between the two of you as he put his hands on your hips. "flustered, are we?" he cooed, pulling the bag off of your shoulder and setting it down on the bench. he softly grabbed your wrists, placing them on his chest. "don't be afraid to explore now," he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours. "and not just my chest either~"

εïз┊u. wakatoshi

an uncomfortable groan fell from his lips as he rolled his shoulders. the two of you cuddled on his couch, watching your favorite show together. practice had been stressful on him recently, especially with such important competitions coming up. today was the only day you could convince him to not practice. "toshi?" you sat up, concern laced your soft voice. he shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "just sore, that's all honey." he placed a kiss on your forehead. you bit your lip as an idea popped in your head. "let me give you a massage." his eyes widened as heat made its way to his cheeks. "c'mon, it'll feel good" he sighed as you practically begged him. mumbles of agreement fell from his throat before tugging at the bottom of his shirt and pulling it over his head. his face felt hot, a stark contrast to the cold air on his now exposed torso. he laid down on the couch as you kneaded the muscles of his back, a satisfied sigh falling from his lips. "feel good?" he hummed, his body relaxing into your touch. although, his brows furrowed as he spoke. "it's not fair if i'm the only one feeling this good." his voice was deep as he shifted where he laid, his eyes dark, half-lidded. "take your shirt off honey..i'll make sure you're in the clouds by the time i'm done with you."

εïз┊k. tetsurou

he stretched his muscles before bending down into the hood of his car, music playing in the background through his speaker in the garage. sweat dripped down his bare chest as the hot summer heat invaded his garage. "tetsu?" you sweet voice made him raise his head, a smirk plaguing his lips. he watched as you realized his half-naked state, his shorts not leaving much to the imagination either. "why hello there beautiful," he grabbed you by your hip, pulling you close and placing a kiss on your lips. he watched as your eyes trailed down his body, all the way down to... "didn't think you'd be here so soon." his hand snaked up to cup your cheek, making you look at him as his eyes darkened. "oh," you hesitated. "i just wanted to see you." your eyes drifted down again, breath caught in your throat. he guided his hands down to your hips once more, slowly moving you to cage you in between him and his car. your eyes found his, half-lidded and filled with desire. his hands trailing up your shirt over your soft skin. "C'mon pretty girl, let's get this off you." he whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

εïз┊a. keiji

his jaw clenched as his arms raised in the air, puffs of white flour spreading on his black hoodie. he blew a stray hair from his vision before attempting to wipe some of the flour off, only to make it worse. he was trying to bake you something special before you came over that night, however, tonight was the night he figured out he was way better at cooking than baking. a sigh fell from his lips as he washed his hands, flicking the water into the sink before pulling his hoodie over his head. his sweatpants sagged on his hips as he walked to his bedroom, throwing the dirtied piece of clothing into his hamper. it wasn't long before he heard the squeak of his front door. "keiji~" your cheerful voice echoed through the small apartment. his eyes glanced at his watch, it was much later than he thought it was. you peaked your head into his room, a smile on your lips. "hey-" he turned towards you, his face instantly flushed. "woah," you stared at him in awe. "so this is what you've been keeping under those hoodies?" his eyes widened slightly as you walked over to him, slowly tracing your fingers along his abs. he looked everywhere but at you, his heart pounded against his chest. although, he couldn't say he didn't love your touch.

εïз┊m. osamu

you laid on your towel as the sand beneath you molded to the shape of you. today was the day where you and 'samu could finally relax with your old high school friends. So, what else to do than go to the beach and play volleyball together? your skin soaked up the sun in your swimsuit as the boys played their game, 'samu still changing in the beach's communal bathroom. it wasn't long before you heard his voice call out to his friends as he rushed over to them. he immediately caught your eye as your lips parted, propping yourself up on your elbows. your boyfriend, messy hair, shirtless, and his v-line very much visible made your face flush. you realized you'd never seen him so...exposed before and he hadn't seen you in the same way. you watched as he talked among his brother and friends, your heart racing in your chest at the sight of beads of sweat raced down his body. "what is it darlin? yer face is red." your breath hitched, eyes wide as you stared at him knelt down next to you. you didn't even realize he had come over to check on you before playing with the boys. his head tilted as you averted your eyes, realization of your expression. "hey," he spoke softly, using his finger to tilt your face towards him once more. "ya like me in a swimsuit that much?" a smirk grew on his lips, his eyes half-lidded and clouded over. "well, if we're bein' honest," he leaned in close his breath hot against your ear sending shivers down your spine. "darlin', i wanna rip this pretty suit o' yers right off ya," he placed a kiss on your ear, nipping at your earlobe. "t's not fair yer the only one that gets to see me without a shirt.."

taglist :: @cemeiia + send me a message if you wanna be added!!

[bunnys-kisses]

viva las vegas

max verstappen - team principal au

tags: smut/pwp, team principal au, tp!max, driver!reader, age gap (20s/40s), massages, vaginal fingering, intimacy & affection, doggy style

a/n: happy las vegas gp weekend!

max remembered vegas not-so kindly. or rather he remembered the hangovers of las vegas not-so kindly. it was where things heated up depending on a driver's standing. for many years max simply smiled and waved through another race, he always kept a heavy margin between him and other drivers in the points department.

plus he had to give it to the americans, they really knew how to make their races quite the spectacle. and las vegas was no different than miami at the start of the season and austin only a little while earlier. even now as a team principal, he enjoyed the occasional cigarette on a balcony of a hotel room. except this year his head was flooded with less technical information and more the sight of his beloved star driver.

you.

you huffed with your arms crossed after media day. you wore a pout so prettily, it was real princess behavior. and where you were standing right now, you were on your rightful throne at the top of the leader board.

"i don't get why we have to do these last three races. i have this in the bag, i am over a hundred points ahead of the next driver." you pointed in a general direction as you complained to your boss, "this is stupid, give me the wdc and we can all go home."

you were tired. of course you were, he was tired too. the entire team was tired. hell, everyone from top to bottom was tired.

max put his hands on his hips. he tilted his head to the side and exhaled, "treasure." he was a little sympathetic. he remembered being ragged by mid-october, the fact you were only falling apart at the last few races was impressive, "i know, it feels like the victory is being dragged on. that we are just wasting time." he reached out for you and cupped your face with such affection, "but, think about how much you could make that margin grow.' he had both hands on your face. you were in private so he could be a little closer.

you looked up at him with such sad eyes, "it feels anti-climatic."

max smiled, "that's the price you pay you when you're just leagues ahead of them. if you don't race for the points this weekend. then race for home, race for your family... and race for me." his smile grew, "i want to watch the shock on mclaren's face when they see what they missed out on." he chuckled lightly, "the offers you would get from everyone."

you said, "don't think i'm trying to leave verstappen racing." you pouted a little more.

max felt something tug in his chest but he kept his smile, it was endearing to hear those words. that you weren't going to up and leave him. even if your contract was three years, teams had lawyers to the teeth that could easily wrangle you into their grasp. but you had no interest in that. he kissed your forehead, "how about you come to my hotel room tonight, i'll help you relax. make the weekend a little more fun."

it wasn't burdensome to go to max's room. it was often right beside yours. even if the rest of the team were on the other side of the floor. you nodded and let max kiss you in the privacy of the little corner you found yourself in.

max watched you walk through his hotel room, in nothing but an over-sized garishly pink dolly parton shirt. you were bent over at the bar fridge to take a healthy shot of gin and let the shiver run through you. he chuckled into his drink and said, "let's get you a glass for that, treasure." before he got up from the couch, "oh better yet, let's take it easy on the alcohol. you're driving tomorrow." then crossed the room to take the bottle from your hand. he dipped his nose into the back of your neck and said, "how about we find other ways to relax tonight. something that won't kill you come morning"

you looked over at him and frowned, "i could not race tomorrow and i'd still win it all" and leaned into max's touch as he took you by the chin. you turned to look at him fully and crossed your arms.

"i know, being on top does get boring. but why don't i help. after all, that is my job." he held you in his arms and admired you the way someone would admire a beautiful piece of art. you were inclined to melt into his touch. uncrossed your arms and hugged him when your head against his chest.

"i wish there was more a chase for this victory." you huffed. the perfect driver, the perfect car, the perfect team and the perfect boss. it was all to easy.

he chuckled and kissed you, "please, don't get hung up on that. think about what it would mean to have a woman have such a clear victory." he held you, "no splitting hairs with your victory. think about what you could do." he smiled at you.

you held onto the front of his t-shirt and sighed, "i know, i know. first woman and all, but... i wish there was more of a fight."

max smiled, he knew the feeling well as he tenderly held you. he kissed your forehead lovingly before he said, "why don't we forget about that. and no more alcohol." then led you to the grand bedroom of the room. he sat on the bed and admired you.

in the over sized shirt and cotton panties. nothing special, but max ate up every last bit of it. the idea that he got the see you like this. he knew that men thirsted over you. fans that couldn't get it through their head that you'd never be with them.

you were just voted the more eligible bachelor(ette) of formula one. max got a kick out of seeing that when he read in on the way to the track. single, huh? that was news to him. not while you were tangled up in max's love like a spiderweb.

"do you want it off, sir?" you asked as you played with the hem. he had to admit, but up close, he sort of liked the t-shirt. the pink looked good on you. but he liked what was under it even more. men could thirst all they want, but none of them could have you.

not while max was still breathing. he pressed his face up against your middle, he sighed, "yeah, take it off. i want to see everything." everything that belongs to me. the unspoken words. he helped you get the shirt off.

he admired your body, dressed in cotton panties and a sports bra with thick straps. he licked his lips as he went back to kissing your stomach before you ended up on the bed next to him. you helped him out of his clothes just as he did for you. his lips found your heated skin and you arched your back a little at the feeling. it excited you.

"please, sir." you said as his large hands roamed your body, it left you feeling excited all over and touched you. you felt like heaven under his palms you moaned into another heated kiss and let him touch you as he so desired.

"you're perfect for me." he said as he kissed your neck, "perfect in ways i can't even put words to. you remind me of such beauty that it would be a crime for me to deny myself your warmth." he looked at you with those blue eyes, they read so much as he held you tightly, "that's why i want you to win, win, win. when they doubted you, i never did. and i'll continue to never doubt you. i want them to wipe those grins off their faces and see what you are a threat on the track."

you felt your heart flutter as you said, "oh max." before you pulled him into another hot kiss. when he pulled away, he got you onto your back and admired the strength in your back. he licked his lips and you could feel his hot gaze.

"quite the beauty." he said softly before he started to put those strong hands to work. you moaned into the covers and arched your back when he rubbed the skin. he groaned a little bit, his cock twitched at full attention as he massaged your body, "but you need to relax. i know, i want you at your best. but you can't be so wound up. it'll only make you a worse driver." he leaned into your and whispered in your ears, "i know you want to defeat them, make them whimper." his voice hot against your ear.

you whined, "please, max. sir!" you arched your back a little bit, or at least tried to. but he kept you pinned to the bed and continued to rub at your skin.

"i'd do anything to make you win." he said quietly, "i know you're my champion." he moved down your back and you whimpered when he hit spots that made your eyes roll back a little. you looked cute squirming like that. under him beautifully.'

you gasped when he eventually slipped two fingers inside of your soaked pussy and thrusted them slowly as he held you by the small of your back onto the bed. you gasped and arched your back with sexual want as he fingered you. you buried your face into the covers and whined, "max!"

it was music to his ears, he loved it. he loved you. you didn't know how many rules max had to bend for you. he was painfully committed to you, he adored you in ways that he could never say with words. you whined a little bit as he fingered you and he felt the heat in his belly as he played with your pussy.

"there we go. nice and relaxed, perfect for the upcoming race. i know you'll be a good girl for me. right? you'll race perfectly and then we'll come back to this hotel room with more points under your belt and i'll fuck you right up against the window. let all of las vegas see their weekend's star." his voice was filthy, tinged with a heated want. his cock was painfully hard.

he fingered you for a little while long before he pulled out the digits and licked the wetness off of them. but you weren't going to go without for long, not on max's watch. soon he was behind you, with your hips raised as he sank his cock into you.

the future champion felt good around his cock, beautiful in a way that he could taste it on the tip of his tongue. you felt like heaven as he started to rock his hips against you.

he knew you were the best, you were always the best. almost a perfect season, except for a few hiccups here and there. but, those were all ironed out. now he had big hopes for your future racing. racing with his team. he wanted to see you in the lion logo for years to come. and when your eventual retirement came, you'd be working alongside him as his wife. even carrying his last name couldn't keep you away from the track and max would be a fool to force you away from it (except for maybe nine months). he continued to move against you, he watched your ass bounce from his movements as he fucked you.

"shit, max." you whined. you wanted to win so badly, you wanted to be the world champion. you wanted to stick it in the faces of those who doubted you. other drivers, other teams, even your own father. who would have preferred you married a driver rather than be on. but max saw the future in your eyes, you'd be the world champion. and you believed in max. even when he was fucking you with a feverish pace that left you seeing stars and panting into the covers.

max kissed your back as he moved against you. he felt the heat through his body as he worked his cock inside of you. he felt the swell of affection towards you, he felt the heat course through his body. he needed you deeply, he needed you in ways that he never needed another.

"you're insatiable." you sighed as you felt yourself get fucked further into the bed. you gasped a little deeper into the covers as the two of you moved together. you felt the hammering in your chest.

"you feel amazing. i can't help myself." max groaned as he battered your sweet pussy with an insatiable want. he couldn't help himself, that was the god's honest truth. he yearned for you in deeper ways, he wanted to be connected to you in every way he could.

"please, max. i can't get enough of this. you feel so good, you know how to make me good." you groaned through the heat through your body. you pleasure coursed through your body, this was amazing. it was always amazing to be with him. especially when max combed his fingers through your hair and he continued to move against you with a heated want.

"you feel amazing in return, beautiful. my treasure. something i got out of the rough, shined you to your full potential." he hissed through a tense jaw as he continued to fuck you. you moved against him quickly and it made him gasp for more.

max licked his dry lips. the pleasure coursed through his body, it was a throb in his head as he thrusted up against you. he tensed up for a moment when he felt the heat only grow in his core. he really couldn't help himself. he knew that this wasn't exactly the sanest thing to do, fuck a his driver. but when a figure like yours and a winning streak that left him hot and bothered. it would a crime not to claim you as his. you wore his hickies under your collar and his logo over your heart. you were undeniable. you made racing fun for him.

he kissed you back once more, his pace started to stagger. the heat continued to fuel his body. he could hear your heated pants as you felt close to your orgasm. he held onto you tightly and fucked you through a powerful climax.

"i don't want anyone else." you panted in the heat of pleasure. you tensed up for a moment before you relaxed, your hands curled in the sheets as you muttered curses under your breath in your mother tongue.

max continued his heavy thrusts and came inside of you. he slowed his pace to a stop and kissed your back. he whispered sweet nothings against you before he pulled out slowly. you both laid out beside one another and he pulled you into his grasp.

he kissed your heated cheeks and sighed contently against your skin, "there, ready for the weekend?" he asked.

you pulled away to look at his flushed expression. blissed out from sexual heat, you gave him a small smile as you said, "well, if you keep the orgasms coming. i'll be more than happy to widen the points gap." then yelped when he got you onto your back. his heavy kisses soon trailed down heated skin.

you decided right then and there that you got very lucky in vegas.

-

a few weeks later in abu dhabi, you hoisted your final trophy of the season over your head. you were damn near tears as you claimed another victory. like you did in las vegas, then qatar and finally abu dhabi. max felt tears in his eyes as if he was winning the victory too.

you became the best, just like max promised. his driver, his star, his champion.... his future wife. <3

[pottersfia]

I love your work and I’m wondering if you can make a Harry Potter x reader! Where the reader is a Slytherin and she’s all cocky and shit and she’s enemies with Harry. They get in a argument and out of frustration Harry kisses her and then they Have rough sex?

harry x fem!reader

smut

a/n: sorry this took so long! it was a fun write :)

out of all the people you could've been partnered up with for your DADA assignment, it had to be harry. you despised the so called "chosen one" but you wanted a good grade so you had to get through it.

you and harry agreed to meet in the library, but this particular evening you both happened to be busy after your classes and the library closed before you could get there. you decided to meet in your dorm instead. your roommate was gone for the night and you had a desk in there so it would have to do.

"wish me luck, pansy. hopefully i don't end up punching this guy." you said. pansy snickered.

"have fun." she said as you walked towards harry who arrived in the common room.

"hello potter." you said.

"y/l/n." he replied.

"ok let's get this over with." you lead him to your dorm.

as you began to pull out your notes and textbooks harry spoke up,

"just so you know, i already started. i thought i'd do most of it for us." he said. you scoffed. who did he think he was?

"no." you crossed your arms.

"no?" he raised his eyebrows.

"i already have ideas for this assignment so i'll do it. i don't need you doing anything for me."

"that's not really how this is supposed to work." he pushed his glasses up which sent your stomach churning. with annoyance of course.

"well you're trying to do all the work too."

"i said most!"

you furrowed your eyebrows and stared at him. harry always managed to get on your last nerve. this grade was important, yes, but you were in no mood to put up with his attitude.

"can you stop being insufferable for once so we can get this done." you said.

"i don't see how i'm insufferable when you won't listen." he said. the two of you glared at eachother.

"you can leave you know. we don't have to do this today." you stood up and walked towards the door.

"you know that i'm busy all week. unlike you i have other important things to do." he walked towards you.

"then stop acting like you're better than me!" you practically yelled in his face and moved your hands up to try and push him away from you but he grabbed them before you could touch him. "let go." you said but his grip was strong.

"no." he replied, holding your arms against the closed door. you two stared each other down until you noticed him look down at your lips. you raised your eyebrow in a questioning way about to say something until he leaned in and kissed you. you froze for a second confused by his actions but then you kissed back just as he broke away. he let go of you.

"woah, i'm sorry y/n, i uh-"

"shut up." you kissed him again and this time it was longer. your lips synced together perfectly and harry let his hands roam along the sides of your torso. you pushed him to walk back towards your bed and climbed on top as he laid down. you parted your lips to pull your shirt off and he stared hungrily at your body.

"like what you see, potter?" you smirked at him.

"come here." he pulled you against himself and flipped you over so he was on top. he then took off his own shirt and moved down to pull your bottoms off. he rubbed your thighs and slowly moved his hands closer and closer to where you needed him most.

"stop teasing." you whined out. he laughed at you making you whine again.

"you know what? i've always wanted to shut you up. i think i'll use that loud mouth of yours instead." he pulled his underwear off revealing his hard erection and moved up to straddle your chest.

"stick your tongue out." he said. you looked up at him and furrowed your eyebrows.

"you're not making me suck you off like this." he grabbed your face roughly and replied, "i said stick your tongue out. i'll use you how i want." you rolled your eyes and did so, ignoring the wetness pooling in your own underwear.

he slapped his tip on your tongue before pushing himself inside your mouth. he moaned as your lips wrapped around him and he buck his hips in and out of your wet mouth.

"fuck. you feel so good like this." he groaned. you gripped onto his thigh with one hand and began rubbing yourself under your underwear with the other. harry only noticed when he felt the vibrations of you moaning around him and saw your arm moving.

“i knew you were a dirty slut. rubbing yourself while is use your throat.” his word made you moan even more as you squeezed your thighs together to feel more pressure. “you’re way prettier like this, you know.” he let out small whines and groans from the sensation of your lips and wet tongue on his cock.

you loved having him use you and his noises only brought you closer and closer to the edge. you shut your eyes as you took in the feeling but suddenly your mouth was empty. you looked up and watched as harry climbed off of you, grabbed your hips, and turned you over.

���stick that ass out.” he said. you arched your back and showed off the wet spot on your underwear, slightly spreading your legs.

“you better fuck me good, potter.” you said, rubbing yourself over your underwear. harry felt like he was dreaming. the sight in front of him made him throbbing as he pumped himself, still wet from your mouth.

“fuck.” he pulled your underwear to the side to see your dripping pussy and replaced your rubbing hand with his. “i will, trust me.” and with that he pushed himself inside you making you gasp from being stretched. he instantly started pounding into you, chased how good it felt to finally have you.

“so tight.” he groaned. his hands were gripping you and you were moaning louder than you ever have before. you reached back to rub yourself again making harry smirk.

“slap me please, harry.” you moaned out. he slapped your ass making you groan from the sting.

“making so many pretty noises for me.” he slapped again. “i want you to cum on my cock, y/n. i know you can do it.” his words only got you more wet and you grew tighter around him as you reached your orgasm.

“harry, i’m so close.” you said. he fucked into you harder, feeling himself get closer too.

“i’m gonna cum too, fuck.” he relished in the moment, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer with every stroke. finally, you felt your release as your legs shook, letting out loud whines.

harry came soon after, pulling out and pumping his cum on your ass and back.

“that is crazy hot.” he said staring at the image in front of him. you relaxed your legs to lay on your stomach trying to catch your breath.

harry quickly grabbed a towel to clean you off. he sat next to you and wiped your body.

“that wasn’t too bad, potter.” you said turning towards him with a smile.

“glad i could make you feel good.” he smiled back. you sat up as soon as you were clean.

“i could do a better job fucking you if i were on top, though.” you said. harry’s eyebrows raised and suddenly he felt his cock twitch at the thought.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Frozen In Time – Tyler Owens

Tyler's POV

"Tell me again why we need six cans of dip?" I whined as I followed my best friend through the grocery store aisles.

"Because," she giggled, "you're friends inhale anything I put on the refreshment table."

"We don't have to invite them," I shrugged. She stopped the cart and turned toward me.

"You don't want to invite your friends to your party?"

"To be honest, I don't even know why we're having a party, Y/N," I shrugged as I walked past her and started pushing the cart.

"Because you finishing your degree is a big thing," Y/N said as she caught up to me. I bit back my smile when she looped her arms around one of mine. "I'm proud of you, Owens. It's something we should celebrate."

I stopped and turned toward her. "I don't need a party," I said. "I don't need to drink and celebrate with my friends. It would be just as meaningful if it was just you and me with one of our all-night movie nights."

"But you deserve. . ."

"I deserve you, my best friend, celebrating with me."

"Tyler. . ."

Y/N gasped and practically jumped into my arms when alarms rang throughout the store.

"Attention shoppers," the automatic voice rang through the speakers. "There is a tornado nearby. Please follow the nearest employee to the underground storm cellar."

Y/N looked at me with nothing but fear in her eyes. I instantly grabbed her hand and pulled her to the storm cellar. The second we were inside, I moved her as far away from the door as I could and pulled her so we were sitting down.

I looked at her when I felt her shaking next to me. Without a word, I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her into my side. I forced myself to calm down as I heard Y/N take a shaky breath.

"It's okay," I leaned down and whispered in her ear. My heart jumped into my throat when she cuddled more into me. "It's going to be okay, Y/N. We're going to be okay."

"Tyler," she stuttered. "I'm scared."

"I know," I said as I tightened my arms around her. "But we're safe. Okay? We are going to be okay, Y/N. I promise."

Y/N let out a small shriek when the building shook. I instinctively pulled her closer to my chest. I lost track of time as I turned my focus on comforting Y/N.

What felt like ages later, some rescue personnel opened the cellar doors. We numbly filed out, my hand holding Y/N's the entire time. But the second we got outside, Y/N pulled her hand out of mine and walked away.

I wanted nothing more than to run to her, wrap her in my arms, and reassure her that I would never leave her side. But for some stupid reason, I didn't. Instead, I let her walk away.

~ Three Months Later ~

The last couple of months have not been easy. After the storm, I've tried reaching out to Y/N but she hasn't answered. She doesn't text me back or answer my calls, and every voicemail goes unanswered. When I couldn't take her silence anymore, I went to visit her at the bookstore where she works.

"Tyler?" Y/N stuttered when she turned around and noticed me.

"Hey, Y/N," I smiled as I couldn't help but look her up and down.

"What are you doing here?" She asked as she turned and went back to restacking the books.

"It's been a while," I said, lightly. "I wanted to see what you were up to. . . and if you were okay."

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

I stared at her and could see how tired she was. I sighed as I took a step towards her. "Y/N. . ."

"Y/N," her boss interrupted me, "I need you to go downstairs and grab a box of books."

"Downstairs?" Y/N stuttered. "In the. . ."

"The basement," her boss nodded as she walked away. I watched as Y/N stood frozen.

"Y/N," I said her name gently. "Are you okay? Do you want me to. . ."

"I'm fine," she cut me off. My heart sank as she turned and started heading toward the basement. I watched as she hesitated at the basement door. The second she opened the door, I quickly followed her.

When I started walking down the basement stairs, Y/N was frozen at the bottom. I jogged down the stairs and Y/N was still on the last step.

"Y/N?" I whispered her name. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she stuttered. I went to grab her shoulders but she stepped away. I followed close behind her as she looked for the box her boss wanted. Suddenly, someone walked into the store. Them closing the door made the basement window shake. When it shook, Y/N gasped. I ran to her and instantly grabbed her shoulders.

"It's okay," I whispered as I rubbed her arms. "It was just a customer. It's okay."

We stayed like that for a few minutes, until Y/N calmed down. When she did, she looked over her shoulder and I could see the embarrassment settling in her eyes.

"Y/N," I tried to start again.

"I need to find that box," she said as she gently brushed past me.

As I watched her search for the books, memories of three months ago. I remembered how scared she was. I remembered how tightly she hung on to me. I remembered the relief I felt when the storm passed and I knew that Y/N and I were safe. I remembered the haze in her eyes as we left the basement and got somewhere safe. I remembered the quiver in her voice when she lied and said she was fine. I remembered the feeling in my gut that she wasn't okay when she walked away from me. I remembered the worried feeling getting worse the longer she ignored my calls.

"Y/N, we need to talk about this."

"Talk about what?" She shrugged as she found the box and picked it up.

"The storm."

Those two simple words made Y/N freeze.

"Why. . . Why would. . . Why would we need to talk about that?"

I walked over and took the box out of Y/N's hands. I put it on top of a stack of boxes and turned back toward her. I grabbed her hands and instantly felt how badly they were shaking.

"Y/N, that storm was not a little one," I started to say the thing I've rehearsed too many times. "It was one of the worst storms our town has seen in years. I mean, we were stuck in that basement for almost five hours and. . ."

"I know!" Y/N yelled, cutting me off as she ripped her hands out of mine. She turned away from me and tightened her arms around herself. "You don't need to remind me, Tyler," she continued, her voice breaking. "I haven't stopped thinking about it. How could I? It was the longest four hours and 53 minutes of my life. I have never been more scared, more unsure that I would make it out of there."

"I thought I. . . Didn't I help you?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Of course you did," Y/N said as she quickly turned toward me. "You helped me more than you know, Ty. If you weren't in that basement with me. . . I wouldn't have survived. You always help me."

"Good," I whispered, just now noticing how close we had gotten. My eyes glanced down at her lips, only thinking about what it would feel like to press mine to hers. Y/N sighed as she looked at the box.

"Y/N," I stopped her before she could step away from me. "Promise me that the next time you have a nightmare, you call me."

"I'm not going to call you, Tyler," I sighed. "My nightmares usually wake me up at, like, 3 am."

"I don't care, Y/N," I shook my head. "I want you to call me. No matter what time or how many times. I want you to call me so I can talk you down or come help you."

Y/N studied me as she asked, "You'd really do that? You'd really drive all the way to my apartment at 3 in the morning because of a silly nightmare?"

"It's not a silly nightmare," I said gently. "It's haunting you. And I want is to help you."

"Tyler. . ." She stuttered.

"Promise me," I pushed. "Please?"

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. The longer I stared at her, the harder it was to hold my confession for another minute.

"Y/N. . ."

"Y/N! Did you find the box?" Her boss yelled.

"Yeah!" Y/N yelled back but her voice slightly cracked. "I found it. Bringing it up now."

"Wait," I said, grabbing her wrist before she could go back upstairs. "There's something I need to do. Something that I have been kicking myself in the ass for not doing sooner."

I heard Y/N gasp as I pulled her into my chest and kissed her. I felt everything slow down and my whole body relaxed as she kissed me back. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her even closer. She moaned as I gently bit her bottom lip. We broke apart, with matching cheeky smiles on our faces.

"Have you really been kicking yourself in the ass for not kissing me sooner?" Y/N asked, a small smirk forming on her face.

"Absolutely," I whispered. "You're my best friend, Y/N, but you mean more to me than you know. And I promise, whatever we face, whether it be a small rainstorm or horrible tornado, I will always keep you safe."

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"For life." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gifs)

Daryl tells his daughter about the day she was born (And she asks him an awkward question)

A/N: Just a continuation of my first imagine with dad!Daryl. My everything. I don't know why but I always imagined his daughter as Lexi Rabe, Iron Man's daughter, (I took a scene too, sorry hehe) but as always, you can imagine her differently. Thanks for the love my imagines are receiving! I had so much fun writing this so i hope you like it♥

“Shit…” Daryl whispers, and the group around him sinks into silence.

The few present, some members of his family, including his wife, stare at the map on the dining room table, plotting in their minds what was the best option to attack Negan’s clan before he attacks Alexandria again, before he puts at risk the lives of the innocents who had been caught in the crossfire.

But the silence is broken by a small voice, as sweet as honey since she learned to speak.

“Shit.”

They all turn to the staircase behind them, especially Daryl, who could recognize his daughter’s voice among a sea of ​​murmurs, even if they were louder than her small voice. Daryl had a good memory, and he had memorized her voice since Marley said her first word, which, to his delight, was daddy. But now Marley Rose Dixon is 4 years old already, and although her bag of words as he used to call it was still limited, she had learned to memorize a lot of things at her young age.

Daryl walks over to her, who is sitting on the bottom step, wearing her pajamas with little baby elephant prints on them, and he lifts her up in his arms, enveloping her in his warmth. For her part, Marley hugs his neck, and she smiles back at him, a little sleepily because it is already past midnight.

“What are ya doin' up, youn' lady? It’s late and ya should be sleepin'.”

“Shit.” She repeats, laughing, just to make him uncomfortable, although she didn’t know she was actually doing it.

You chuckle, as do Rick, Michonne, and the others.

“No, angel, it ain't 'kay to say that word.” Daryl scolds her, softly as he uses one hand to push some strands of her brown hair out of her face. “That word belongs to mommy, so only she can say it.”

Marley frowns, tilting her head to look at him with her deep blue eyes and an accusatory expression.

“But you said it, daddy.”

He clears his throat before answering.

“Yeah, but only 'cause Mommy lends it to me sometimes, right, Mommy?” Daryl glances in your direction, and when everyone turns their gazes to you, the weight falls on your shoulders, so you just nod with a solemn expression. “See? Now we’re gonna take ya back to yer room, 'kay?”

Marley hugs his neck closer, their noses touching, making Daryl smile.

“But can you tell me a story?”

Before you or Daryl can speak, though, Rick ends the meeting. Everyone retreats to their own homes, kissing Marley on the cheek or stroking her hair on their way out, and when the three of you are alone again, you all head up the stairs to her room.

Once there, Daryl sets Marley down on her bed, tucking her into her blanket as you grab a book from her shelf. There weren’t many children’s books in that new world, so the two of you had started reading Marley books about wild animals, exotic flowers, and more.

He lays down next to her on the blanket, their heads touching on the pillow as you hand him a book. But Daryl skims through it first, frowning as he looks back at you.

“What? No pictures this time?”

“Borin’!” Marley replies, mimicking her father’s expression.

Her words make you let out a deep breath, but you chuckle too, just because even though you had given birth to her, she looks more like her father than you.

“Oh no. Look what we did. We created a little Daryl Dixon. As if we didn’t have enough with the one we already have at home.” Shaking your head, you walk out of the room, hearing your husband’s voice behind you.

“I’m so proud of the daughter I raised!”

You hear the laugh in his deep voice, but before Daryl can open the book, Marley gently pushes it away.

“Daddy, tell me one of your stories.”

He settles down on the bed, looking into her eyes that were just like his own. Daryl could get lost in the depths of her blue eyes, all day, all night, or all his life: it was like that from the first time he saw her anyways.

“Did Mommy tell ya about the day ya were born?”

She shakes her head.

“Well, we were waitin' for ya for several months now, but ya were two weeks early. It seems that Mommy’s belly wasn’t very comfortable anymore. That night, Daddy had gotten to the gates after a run when Aunt Maggie told me that Mommy was ready to give birth, and when I got to our room, she was very, very scared. So I sat behind 'er on the bed and told 'er how brave she was, that she jus' needed to endure the pain a little longer to meet our baby.”

Daryl smiles slightly at the memory despite the fear he felt, because there was always a chance of losing his wife or his daughter, and Marley looks at him curiously.

“Were you scared?”

Daryl chuckles, stopping himself from saying shit again.

“Terrified, angel. Daddy couldn’t do anythin’ to stop Mommy from havin’ that pain, but we both know how strong Mommy is, and I knew she could do it. Ya took a long time to be born, but in the end, yer cry was the most beautiful sound I ever heard. Ya were healthy, and that was all yer mommy and I asked of life. Then the doctor put ya on mommy’s chest, and suddenly ya stopped cryin' when ya looked into 'er eyes.”

“How did I look at Mommy?”

Daryl smiles, bringing a hand up to Marley’s face to caress her cheek.

“Ya looked at each other like ya’d known each other forever.”

“And how did I look at you?”

Marley chuckles as he leans closer to her, so close that he can rub his nose against his daughter’s, hearing that sweet sound he’s memorized as well.

“Ya looked at me like ya were goin' to love me yer whole life.”

Marley smiles.

“But I love you, Daddy.”

“For life?”

She nods quickly.

“For life.”

For Daryl, who was never given a touch of affection, he knows well that he would give his life for his daughter, because she had loved him long before she knew what love was. But she grew up surrounded by it, by her family, by her mother, and most of all by him, who always knew how to love despite not having been loved when he was a child.

And it is easy for him to say the words that he never received.

“Daddy loves ya, Marley, with all his heart.”

She smiles, kissing his nose before wrapping an arm around his neck.

“I love you too, daddy, with all my heart.”

“That’s good to know, ma little angel.” Daryl caresses her cheek one more time before pulling away from her, getting up to tuck her in before leaving. “Ya must sleep now, sweetheart. It’s late.”

“Daddy?” Just as he adjusts her blanket for the last time, he stops. “Can I have a pet?”

Daryl thinks for a moment: it’s been a while since anyone had seen a pet.

“How about a fish? Daddy can take ya fishin' and we can come home with a pet fish.”

Marley wrinkles her nose.

“I don’t want a fish. You can’t take them for walks.”

He chuckles.

“And what animal would ya like?”

“An elephant!”

Daryl can’t help it, he frowns at her, head cocked to the side.

“What’s that word Mommy always uses when I get obsessed with somethin'?”

“Fixation.” She laughs, finding the word before her dad does.

Daryl chuckles.

“Ya really got a thin' for elephants, angel.” He leans down to kiss her forehead before leaving, but on his way to the door, her voice stops him again. “Yeah?”

“And how did I get into mommy’s belly?”

Daryl chokes on his own breath: but he would rather face 100 walkers than explain to his daughter how a baby was made.

“What?”

“You said I was in mommy’s belly.” Marley cocks her head, an action she learned from him. “How did I get there?”

“Well…” Daryl frowns in a thoughtful expression, because Merle had told him about it when he was a kid, but in a very grotesque way. “Daddy will try to get ya an elephant, I make no promises, but I'll try, 'kay?”

Marley smiles.

“Okay.”

Daryl can feel the relief as he closes her door, but he knows that sooner or later, she’ll ask again. When he gets to his own room, he can see you standing in front of the window, staring out at the cold world, but at least inside his home, it was always warm. Like a good hunter, Daryl comes to you quietly, wrapping you in his arms, his face hidden in your neck, his warm breath tickling you.

“How did yer parents tell ya how a baby is made?”

You laugh.

“What?”

“Marley asked me how she got into mommy’s belly.” Daryl lifts his head, meeting your amused gaze. “Merle told me when I was 6, and I ain't repeating the words he used to ma daughter.”

You shrug, agreeing with him.

“I met him, so I can imagine his words. I was never told that babies are delivered by the stork or anything like that. But, we already talked to Marley about calling her private parts by their names, so we can start there.”

Daryl growls.

“I’ll be there but, could ya do it? I ain't ready to teach ma baby how to make a baby.”

You laugh.

“Fine, I’ll do the talking. Although now that I think about it, my brother once told me that he was explained it when my mom was pregnant with me, so it was easier for them and him.” When you look back at him, Daryl is looking at you with an amused smile, the one he used before asking you if you wanted to make love. “I’m not saying we have another baby! So keep your hands off me.” You pull away from him a little, looking at him with a serious expression. “Before you say it, no. No, no, no, and definitely not. And if that wasn't clear to you, hell no.”

Daryl shoves his hands into his pants pockets, smiling like a child.

“I jus' think maybe it’s the right time to give Marley a little brother or sister.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah? Are you planning on giving birth to that baby?” You ask, but when he shakes his head, you narrow your eyes. “Then think twice, Dixon. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to sleep. And if you dare lay a finger on me, I’m going to bite it. I’m not kidding.”

The moment you turn your back at him, however, Daryl has you in his arms, kissing the arch of your neck before you can ask him to let you go.

[xo-myloves]

I have another request but i dont wanna be the weird bitch who keeps asking for imagines lmao 😫😫😫😫 but like if you ever feel like it and you don't need to write it right now or anything BUT IF YOU WANT TO could you do a slash(him rn, oldie) imagine when y/n is friends with london and his relationship isnt going well so Y/N is like his young side bitch LMAO 👉👈😮‍💨 so whenever he fights with his wife he comes to you and like you cook for him and you watch movies etc and y/n makes him feel young and whatever else and HOT!!!!!!!!!!! I WANT THIS MAN NAKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I really love your writing btw 🫶

it’s okay request as much as you want 😋

(Omg this photo from when he was in velvet revolver🙂‍↔️)

WARNING ‼️ (smut, fingering, pet names, overstimulation, age gap,) I think that’s all🥲

𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴 𝙸𝚂𝙽𝚃 𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝙱𝙰𝙳

I’ve been friends with this guy named London, he used to go to my high school until we graduated, and we stayed in touch, and guess fucking what, this motherfuckers dad was slash.

Yes the slash.

The fucking guitar player for Guns ‘N’ Roses, my favorite band of all time, I grew up on them, my dad basically raised me on them, and I even started playing guitar because of slash, and now I knew the fucker?

Did I tell London this? No fucking way, he would never let me over, it had to be obvious though, every time I go over there, I’m like a horny spaze over his father, and best believe when I graduated, I lived there basically, did slash have a wife. Yes.

That’s didn’t fucking stop me.

I would always be around him, like a lost puppy, London didn’t notice as much, but slash had too. It was pathetic, wearing subjective clothing, and showing off my breasts since I knew he had a thing for them, it’s not like I haven’t seen his instagram.

But it didn’t seem wrong, we were close, did his wife hate me? Fucking probably, but I honestly didn’t care, she was a bitch to him, and I know I could treat him better.

All I wanted was to be with that man, he was everything I ever wanted, he was a huge horror movie fan, loved music, fucking played the music I loved, and we loved a lot of the same topics, and when I would sleepover, I would go downstairs, knowing slash was a night owl, we would just sit on his couch and talk for hours.

Recently something has been off, London didn’t want to tell me, but I could tell slash and meegan were having problems, I heard them arguing earlier in the day, I tried to talk to him, but he pushed me away, he didn’t want to talk to anyone, it honestly made me upset.

All I wanted was to hold him and play with his hair and tell him how great he is, how he doesn’t deserve her, how I could be better. I can be better. I would be better.

And tonight was like any other night, I was sleeping over at Londons house, I was sitting in his room, bored as all hell, he was out, snoring and everything, so I made my way downstairs, originally wanting to get water, but kinda wishing slash was down there. Maybe I could talk to him about everything.

I tried to be quiet walking down the stairs, they were always so damn creaky.

As I made my way down to the stairs, I heard panting almost? I was confused, as I got to the bottom step, I saw the back of slash head, only his silhouette, since the TV was on, it lit him up.

But his head was throw back, and I realized he was the one that was panting, I got closer to only see him jerking himself off, my legs almost gave up on themselves.

My heat pooled, felt like it was going down my legs, I put my hand over my mouth, trying not to make a sound, but I had a wave of confidence go threw my body, and I walked right up to him, standing in front of him.

Trying not to cringe at myself, I hated being confident, but around him, I felt like I could.

“Oh shit, fuck, sorry.” Slash looked up in worry, covering himself, getting the blanket next to him, I started nodding my head “no” right away.

“No, no, no it’s okay, let me help.” I whispered the last part, sitting down next to him, he raised an eyebrow, I tried to put my head in his thigh and I wanted to rub it up to his member, but he stopped my hand with his.

His eyes went big, I could see his member through the blanket, my pussy was throbbing at this point, “y/n… come on, you know we can’t.” He had a smile on his face, it almost like he wanted too, but he knew he couldn’t.

I smiled at him back, there was so much sexual tension, it wasn’t even funny, are hands were still on top of each others, “slash, let me make you feel good.” I whined to him, squeezing his hand slightly, he looked around, then grabbed my waist, putting me in his lap, grabbing my face, and slamming his lips onto mine.

I felt euphoric. I felt like I was on cloud 9, I have always wanted this moment, for fucking years. Feeling his shaft under me, was… I couldn’t even explain.

His hands traveled to my ass, his hands were soft, yet rough, he massaged my ass softly, kissing down my neck, I couldn’t help myself from grinding on him, I saw his eyebrow go up, “you’re one eager little girl, aren’t ya?” He spoke in a soft deep tone.

“I can’t help it, I mean, look where we are.” I giggled, putting my hands around his neck, titling my head, looking into his eyes, before grinding one more time, it was so fucking amazing, I felt him. Since he only had the blanket under him.

“Can you be quiet?” He grinned, kissing my lips once more, slinging his hand that was previously on my ass to the front of my stomach, I looked down as he started to play with the hem of my shorts.

I nodded my head, biting my lips barely, all I needed was him. I needed something. Anything.

He smiled, pulling down my shorts, I lifted up, leaving them on the ground, leaving my only in my Lacey black thongs, his finger tips went down to my clit, playing with it so softly.

My lips parted at his action, my eyes had a glaze over them, he licked his lips, loving how he had me, only after a few touch’s. “Just stay quiet doll.” He smiled, laying a kiss my exposed neck.

I gave a small whimper in response, he brought his full fingers to my clit, rubbing it roughly now, his other hand was behind my neck now, making me look at him.

“Does this feel good honey?” He was so soft, so gentle. I loved every moment. “Yes, yes, it really does.” I whined, as he slide his fingers down to my entrance, teasing it softly, before slipping his middle finger into me.

Pumping it in and out, making me moan quietly, I gasped when he pushed his second digit into me. “Stay quiet, you don’t wanna get in trouble? Don’t ya? We wouldn’t want that now.” He smirked, bringing my head to the crook of his neck.

After he said those words, I was invested, I needed to know what “trouble” was, whatever it was or is, I needed it. Now.

Soooo I started moaning louder, louder than I should’ve, even though I was in his neck, it was definitely still audible, he pulled me by my hair to make me look at him.

“I told you to be quiet, now shut the fuck up.” He gritted through his teeth, I didn’t even notice that he took off the blanket, pulling his fingers out of me, whining at the lost of him, and then he just slammed into me, giving me now warning, and his thrusts were fast and hard.

He wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

My eyes shoot open, mouth parted wider, and I brought myself closer to him. He grabbed my ass, pounding into me, his hand that was on my hair, is now on my mouth, forcing me to be quiet.

Fuck this is going to be a long night.

𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚁

“FUCK SLASH, NO MORE, IM SO FUCKING SENSITIVE!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, we were in his bedroom now, he had me bent over his bed, still pounding into me, I already cummed four times…

I know.

I felt a hand slap my ass, and I went to look back, his head was fully back, his thrusts got sloppy, I knew he was close, finally.

He grabbed my hips, using me, not caring what I said, it’s not like it didn’t feel good. It was so much at once.

I loved every moment.

“S-SHIT FUCK.” His voice got higher, shooting his seed into me, coating my walls, my legs trembling, I felt his body weight in my back, after he came he just laid on top of me for a good minute. I giggled softly, at this action, he rolled over next to me, looking to the side at me.

“Well, that was…. Um, unexpected.” He chuckled, moving his hair off his sweaty forehead, grabbing my waist, bringing me closer to his sweaty torso. “ I’ve always wanted to do that.” I mumbled under my breath, he scooted up the bed, laying in the middle of the bed with me in his big muscular arms, his hair tickling my shoulder.

“I know, I know.” He laughed, kissing my cheek, before getting off the bed. “Where ya going?” I looked up, he smiled at me, “I’m fucking showering, I have too many body fluids on me.” I laughed at his joke, realizing he was right.

fuck that was a night.

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙽𝙴𝚇𝚃 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶

after a good night sleep in slash’s arms, his shampoo filling my nostrils, having clean clothes on both of our body’s, I was worried his wife was going to walk in on us, but thank fuck she wasn’t coming home anytime soon, she went on a business trip or whatever slash said, I kinda zoned out.

While he was still sleeping like a baby, I decided to be the wife he should have, making him a hearty warm breakfast, when I started cooking the bacon, he immediately got up, walking to the kitchen.

“Are you cooking?” Slash said in a sleepy tone, leaning against the counter, tilting his head, with a big smile on his face, I nodded my head, not looking away from the pan, scared I was going to get burned.

I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist, and a kiss on my neck, “you doing this for me doll?” He spoke in a whisper tone, my heart felt so warm at his touch.

“I wanted to show you, I could be a better wife.” I heard a deep chuckle from him, making my panties getting wet all over again, even though my body was covered with bruises, hickeys, marks, anything imaginable.

“You proved that last night doll.”

(Sorry it took so long)

[foone]

So here's the thing. Novelty phones come in 2.5 sorts.

1. Lazy 1.5 Slightly Less Lazy but still Lazy 2. Not Lazy

The difference is in HOW they turn their Whatever Thing The Phone Is into a phone. The lazy way to do this is just to shove a keypad on the bottom and a mic/speaker somewhere. The thing is just a plastic figure of the Whatever, plus a phone on the bottom. LAZY.

See? it's just a plastic toy, and they attached a phone keypad to the bottom.

Slightly less lazy (1.5) is when you design it as a figuring HOLDING a phone handset.

Like so. This one is a little less lazy because at least they themed the handset to look "woodsy". A worse example is the Mickey Mouse Phone I used to have:

See? It's still just a figurine, but at least they tried adjusting it for its new "phone" duties.

Finally, the Good Novelty Phones: They actually thought about how to make a thing that both:

looks like the thing it is supposed to be

is a phone

For a great example, the Nortel Plane Phone!

The handset is the wings, the propeller is the dial, it's a great combination of both things. They've clearly thought about both HOW THIS WORKS and HOW IT LOOKS and made something that's both.

This is a great design, but you don't have to work that hard to make a not-lazy novelty phone. For example, Hamburger:

Just by putting the keypad on the inside and making it open like a clamshell makes it so much better than the lazy design of putting it on the bottom.

Anyway this is just like furry designs and how furry artists approach furry animals. Some of them are just drawing humans with funny ears and a tail. Some of them are trying to be a little less lazy and add some more animal details.

And the really good ones have actually thought about how it would work to have horsetaurs living among humans. How do they ride the bus? How do they drive a car? How do they put on their pants in the morning?

Yeah. Basically my slightly-intentionally-obfuscated point is that both Novelty Phones and Furry Art are subjects where I love them, but I am frequently disappointed by how little thought went into designing the furry species. I don't want to see humans with funny ears. I'm a Trekkie, I've seen enough of that to last me the rest of my life. I want to see art that's dealing with the fact that these are fundamentally Not Humans and that they've got to do things differently.

I have the same problems with furry artists as I have with novelty phones

[sunny4youu]

[seaweedstarshine]

Sometimes I think of Amy Pond, who grew up being called mad by those who wielded the word as a tool of exclusion and shame —

Amy Pond, who though forced into the hands of four psychiatrists, still clung to that which they called madness until those systems which elevate psychosocial conformity above humanity stripped it from her —

Amy Pond, whose imaginary friend reappeared for a single hour after twelve years and reignited that faith before disappearing for two more years —

Amy Pond, who spent those those two years under the same implicit threat ingrained in her through psychiatric violence, and thus began to believe the man who stopped the invasion was “just a madman with a box,” only for him to agree, and to also call her “mad, impossible Amy Pond,” reframing madness as non-negative for the first time in her life —

Amy Pond, who ignored the disembodied voice of her imaginary friend even as she ran away with him for real, who still lived each day with the traumatic internalization of deviancy dictated upon her by the psychiatric-industrial complex that shaped her from childhood —

Amy Pond, who wouldn't acknowledge the Doctor's voice, such that it took an Angel in her eye that was literally killing her to ensure she couldn't reality check herself —

Amy Pond, who stood before a room which muttered about “the psychiatrists we brought her to,” and though afraid, escaped their rigid parameters of acceptable existence.

[clubsmarties]

Eli smirked and chewed his bottom lip. "Tell you what, once we get home and after we say goodnight, we'll sneak peek one thing off our list," the list in question was the things they hadn't done in months. Sure, this time they'd have to get creative with her protruding belly but a challenge he knew they'd excel at. "I am too not gonna lie. At least it'll give us some time and her some time to see what it's like to have a sibling like best friend. I honestly can't believe we're all having girls first. I thought since Aaron had brothers that that track record would continue." His laughter rang out as he knew that would catch her attention. "First off, when you're out of the shower and you let your hair air dry but it starts getting curly," that sight always had him staring. There was something so sexy about her hair like that. "Then, it's when you introduce yourself at work. The sexiest one of all is truly when you steal, er...borrow my sweatshirts that you never give back."

He smiled as his lips were still close to her fingertips. "So you're saying you want me to walk slower like a snail? Would that be better?" Eli couldn't help but joke since if she asked he'd do anything she asked. "I'm not sure but wouldn't that be a federal crime if they touched?"

He cringed knowing how right she was. "Poor ten babies being nameless. They'd just be baby numbers at that point. Like what's that show juju was obsessed with, oh right, Umbrella Academy. Wasn't there a kid named Seven?" Just because he wasn't really watching didn't mean he hadn't paid attention when the girls took over the TV. "I don't know. We shall see after we get our first out. But I do think there's less pressure after the first since you're a little more confident. And that was on my sleep deprived self when I came up with Rosebud. Soon as we knew it was a girl that nickname just clicked."

"She's already on our side." The proud smile spread over his features as the thought of their girl became more of a reality. "I can't believe she'll come meet us in a little under 4 weeks. That's insane to me." The Phillips under one roof was insanity but in the same place that was a dream. "It will get chaotic but it'll be so much fun. We'd put them to work the night shift with Rosebud." Laurel brought up a good point. "You know what, that's a good point. We need to take her to the cabin in Chicago. I feel like you can't go anymore but maybe we can go to that indoor Christmas festival. Something to get us out of the house." He watched her get up and was ready to render aid as he got up after her. Taking her hand was the normal and interlocked it. "Hmm I don't know. I may say debatable if he's still thinking I hate him."

They moved through the crowds easily until they found his siblings. "You guys ready to go?"

Laurel's smirk couldn't be contained, his raised eyebrows inviting her to make a move. She understood what he was communicating, and she wanted nothing more than to oblige. Humming in thought, she answered. "Oh, but it is up to you my love. I'll misbehave as often as you'd like me to." Tiny best friends. Laurel was giddy, just thinking of their girls spending time together from day one. "Tiny best friends growing up together, I'm very excited." She had always felt so grateful for her friendship with Juju - the love and care they shared for each other. Their daughter would be immensely lucky to find that in a friend so early in life. "Really?" Now, he was intriguing her. "If not the badge, what else would make me a sexy rebel?"

She loved telling him just how attractive he was, it was something she had never shied away from. From the start, she loved giving him details. The many different reasons he caught her attention. A small laugh fell from her lips when he kissed her fingertips. Softly tracing his face was Laurel's happy place. An amused sigh followed, shaking her head. "Hm, I do try, but I can only waddle so fast. I just can't get to that door fast enough. I just hope they enjoy the sight of you. They can look, but they can't touch." And, even that was already pushing it for her. "I'll happily be biased my whole life."

Her laughter vibrated against her lips, nodding in agreement with him. Being unconventional was definitely very reminiscent of them, but it was also one more thing that she loved about them. "Eight or ten, oh my goodness - can you imagine that? They'd be nameless forever. Or, do you think it gets easier after our first? It is a special one, and I love that she can keep the nickname you gave her." Laurel's smile was wide upon hearing their girl's name once again, it felt more real each time. Her hand reached over and rested it right over his. "I think that's a yes babe, I'm glad baby Rosaline has confidence in us taking them on."

"All the Phillips in one place, I don't know if I'm ready," she teased, her hand now moving to caress the back of his neck. Just to give herself something to do. "Long distance with her aunts would be tough, going all the way out to Chicago. Though, who knows, maybe she'd love the snow. Early night works for me, I'm dreaming of our bed already." The fluffed up pillow and their blanket. She took the last bite of her churro before crumbling the napkin in her hand, "yup I'm all ready." It took her an extra minute to stand up, using the arm rest for support. "Let's go see them," taking his hand and locking their fingers together. "Maybe Isa finally cracked a smile."

[socially-awkward-chocobo]

Three more are out!! Now just three (maybe four or five, depending on my mood) left.

(Kido-Kano-Seto)

(Ayano-Momo-Mary)

[supercantaloupe]

The Rent Post™

aka, a lengthy screed on how rent the musical goes about adapting la boheme, where it fails, and what can be done about it

so i’m admittedly a reformed Theater Kid™. and tbh i still very much am a Theater Person, even a Musical Theater Person, i’m just in my 20s now and my taste has shifted away from what’s mainstream on broadway right now and closer to the world of opera. but there absolutely was a time in my early teens when i was Really Into Rent, as many Theater Kids™ were…and there was also a time in my later teens when i thought about it and realized that rent was not only just not my thing, but that there were some significant Problems with it, as its own work and as an adaptation. now, having finally seen boheme for myself, i feel like i’m really in a place to piece together how the two works compare to one another, and why/how i think rent falls short of success (as a piece of theater anyway. obviously rent is not lacking in commercial and popular audience success, for better or worse).

i knew years ago that rent is a direct adaptation of la boheme, but wow, only after seeing the opera did i come to realize just how closely rent follows boheme: in plot beats, in character names, even borrowing a couple of lyrics and musical motifs here and there. 

but it also changes things from the original opera -- namely, it adds things -- and i think this is the first place where rent runs into trouble. now i am by no means such a purist that i think no work should ever be adapted unchanged (more on this later...what’s the point of adaptation if not to change things to make the work resonate with a new audience anyway?). however, any and every change made to an existing work in adaptation should be thoughtfully made and motivated, because every single change has an effect on the whole product in some way, and many small changes can add up to create a rather different final product than a creator might realize. 

(and this goes both ways, i think -- both in a work where a more flawed source material is adapted into something new and better, and when a superior original work is adapted into a worse new creation.)

definitely some of the changes made in rent while adapting la boheme are due to the change in medium. opera and musicals are both theater, sure, and more similar in many ways to each other than either is to straight play or film perhaps, but it’s still like a spanish speaker and an italian speaker trying to have a conversation with one another. the languages are similar and there might even be a bit of crossover in mutual intelligibility but they are still ultimately two different languages with different grammars and vocabulary. opera in general tends to have slower pacing than book musicals, fewer plot threads of equal importance. that rent is specifically a musical adaptation of la boheme, rather than a true rock opera, demonstrates this well. the mimi/rodolfo relationship is still front and center (americanized of course as mimi and roger), with marcello and musetta close behind (though expanded in rent as more of a love triangle among mark, maureen, and joanne, the latter being an invented character for the musical who i think embodies the original marcello as much as mark does). but rent adds a lot of stage time and focus to a new couple, collins and angel, who are directly lifted from colline and schaunard, who are essentially secondary comic relief characters, whereas collins/angel are arguably as important plot wise to mimi/roger and mark/maureen/joanne. 

(and i’m not gonna get into the level of #problematic there is to the depiction of maureen as an overly promiscuous bisexual or discuss why colline and schaunard can’t have been a gay couple the whole time or whatever because. wow i do not care. there are more important things to complain about here c’mon)

first big addition to rent that wasn’t original to boheme is that increased stage presence/focus for collins and angel. it's not inherently a bad addition, and for its time the open depiction of multiple queer romances onstage was still kind of groundbreaking. and yes, rent having a longer runtime than boheme should give it the opportunity to flesh this relationship out more as well as the other two to make sure they all have an equal chance to develop and end in a satisfying way. hell, they don’t even all have to be equal in stage presence/focus/importance to be a positive addition to the show (and how can it be when angel dies halfway through act ii? then again, the character dying doesn’t exactly mean the relationship loses its importance in the plot…) but despite the extra runtime and faster storytelling pace, rent doesn’t actually develop angel and collins all that much, especially not before angel dies. this isn’t an issue with colline and schaunard, of course, cause it’s obvious they’re not important characters in boheme. but collins and angel are arguably more important in rent than even mark/maureen/joanne. and angel dies halfway through act ii…meanwhile, mimi survives the end of rent, when she very pointedly does not in boheme.

and…oh, mimi. she is probably the biggest and most problematic adaptational change in rent as compared to la boheme. on the surface she (and roger/rodolfo) seems the least changed of all the opera’s characters, her name not even undergoing the same americanization treatment as the others. but there are just so many small details that add up and up until she’s a fundamentally different character in rent. i don’t even begrudge the change in occupation: her becoming a stripper/exotic dancer/possible sex worker(?) rather than a seamstress does bring with it some cultural baggage, but i am not personally interested in reading any morality into her choice of occupation, and i choose not to read her line of work as having any implications for her “innocence” or moral value as a character. nor will i read her addiction or disease as being moral qualities either. however: there is a big difference between tuberculosis in the 1840s and both AIDS and drug addiction in the 1980s. neither boheme’s mimi nor rent’s are morally responsible for their illnesses. but there is absolutely nothing mimi could do about her tuberculosis in boheme except die, because it was france in the 1840s and nobody knew what an antibiotic was. in new york in 1989, there were rehab clinics and there were medications for HIV. these things were expensive and hard to access, yes, but rent really goes out of its way to show us that mimi had the resources to access these things -- she is able to afford AZT in act i on her own (and the fact that she’s on AZT is used as shorthand for her HIV+ status, as opposed to other characters about whom we are told outright)...

… and her relationship with benny (the much-expanded counterpart to boheme’s benoit the landlord character) in act ii, who verbally offers to pay for her admittance to a rehab program.

yet the next time we see or hear anything of her, her loving mother is calling to ask where she is as she’s presumably gone missing…

…and then discover she has been living on the street, dying from exposure/disease/addiction. 

did she do this willingly? did benny refuse to continue supporting her? we don’t really get an answer to any of this; rent isn’t really concerned with why mimi is in the position she’s in, but is rather entirely preoccupied with staying true to boheme -- up until mimi’s death, anyway. because mimi doesn’t die in rent, she is saved, and says that angel told her to keep on living (as though it were a choice). why? we can only speculate. really, if any character embodies the same “dying tragically in a world too cruel for them to survive” theme as mimi in boheme does, it’s angel. and her death is honestly used as a tool throughout the rest of the show: a purpose for kindness, community, life.

is this a bad “bury your gays” kind of thing? i don’t really know, i’m inclined to believe not. but i do think angel’s death is more thematically akin to mimi’s death in boheme than the actual (near-)death of mimi in rent. 

and this is the biggest difference between rent and boheme: boheme is not about hope. boheme is a tragic romance about how important relationships are among people in disadvantaged communities/situations, but it does not say that love will transcend or materially improve those conditions. rent, by contrast, does. rent suggests that the love of partners and community (even if filled with complications and tensions) is lifesaving. 

(and i know rent’s stated thesis is “no day but today,” i.e. live and enjoy every day as though it could be your last, but i think thematically all the characters and their interactions overall suggest a theme of community just as if not more strongly, whereas “no day but today” is more limited to the HIV+ characters and has little to do with the mark/maureen/joanne subplot. mimi's outlook on "no day but today" changes when she chooses to stay alive on the urging of angel from the other side.) 

now i don’t think this is altogether a bad moral to have in your theater piece. especially in one of the first major pieces of theater centered on marginalized queer characters. i will not deny how important and cathartic it can be, both now and especially thirty years ago when rent premiered, to end on a hopeful note rather than a tragic one. but i have a couple of issues with how rent goes about making this its central theme. for one thing, mimi has frankly too many Things affecting her health in the end for her survival to be realistic, and absolutely nothing up to this point in the show has suggested a setting of magical realism or pseudofantasy; everything has been as grounded in real life as possible, until finale b, when mimi suddenly and near-inexplicably survives. it feels like it comes out of nowhere tonally and thus isn’t very satisfying an ending when put to scrutiny. for another, angel has already died, and angel is, compared to mimi, a much more beloved and uncomplicatedly positive force in their community and relationships. angel’s entire stage presence (while she’s alive and when her character is invoked or referenced after her death) is a positive one: caring for collins when he’s injured, providing food and funds to the group, placating arguments, etc.

and the fact that angel has no concerned parents leaving her voicemails, unlike mark, roger, and mimi, underscores that she has no one else to lean on for support except her community of bohemians. and we’re not given a reason to believe one way or the other about her home life or financial stability outside of today 4 u when she got a sudden windfall for killing a dog (whatever; schaunard did the same thing to the parrot in boheme). in contrast to mimi, roger, and especially mark, who are clearly shown to have family who care about them and want to support them, yet they choose to live in romanticized poverty anyway. mark even gets a good job in filming and still finds a way to complain about it.

really, except for angel (and arguably collins, too), it’s difficult to totally sympathize with the characters in rent and care fully about their plight because they’re just…not depicted as particularly likable people. maureen is an unfaithful and kind of manipulative partner, and her approach to “protest” is really just bad self-absorbed performance art. roger just kind of sucks at songwriting (how is your eyes the song that he’s spent the whole show writing? it’s the worst number in the musical lol), and he’s quick to anger…his decision to leave mimi makes even less sense here than rodolfo’s decision to leave her in boheme, where at least he did so out of genuine concern for her health (also why does he leave mark? rodolfo embraces marcello as a friend still after mimi leaves in boheme...act iii of boheme is the least closely adapted in rent by far.). wheras in rent roger seems to be both genuinely jealous of mimi interacting with other men and upset by her continued drug use. although this last one i don’t begrudge him for, since it’s made clear he’s a recovering addict himself…although it does make mimi’s relationship with him all the worse, considering that mimi’s take on the whole “no day but today” theme is to throw caution to the wind with her actions and not worry about the future at all, and her interacting with roger is directly tempting him back into addiction which he clearly does not want. (and roger’s rejection of her in another day is framed as him being in the wrong with mimi being backed up by the life support chorus…)

while mimi as we’ve seen is reckless and throws her life away even when people try to help her (very very different from boheme’s mimi, who makes no particularly reckless choices, and accepts help when it's offered). and mark is entitled and uses his film as an excuse to disengage with the real world, even exploit it (see: the way he films the life support meeting without permission, or the homeless woman, which is never really confronted elsewhere in the show…)

the inclusion of a homelessness subplot in rent is particularly strange to me. it shows up a lot, especially in act i: the threat of homelessness for the main characters should they not pay their rent or come to some kind of agreement with their landlord; the vague future threat of benny’s “cyberarts studio” getting built which is implied would evict those living in tents on the lot; mimi being found living on the street in the finale; and the chorus/ensemble who show up periodically, as above. homelessness is an ever present element of set dressing/conflict in rent but it’s never really addressed, no points are ever made about it, which is in my opinion kind of wild and very unsatisfying. the above scene especially, considering how direct of a callout it is towards the show’s own characters and writing, yet it is never addressed afterwards, and this conflict is never really resolved. 

one could take similar issue with the choice to swap tuberculosis in boheme with AIDS in rent. though in my opinion i think addiction is as much as if not more rent’s analogue to boheme’s TB, since that is a much more acutely seen disease for mimi and only mimi while there are multiple characters (main and chorus) living with HIV…then again, angel is the character who gets the real tragic death analogous to mimi’s in boheme, and angel dies of complications from AIDS, so i suppose it’s open to debate. regardless, there’s a significant contextual difference between TB in the 1840s and HIV and addiction in the 1980s: there was no system, political, social, or medical, that could truly heal someone of tuberculosis in boheme’s setting. but there very much was a medical and social system in place to help people with HIV and addiction in the 1980s; systems which were aggressively denied to those who were suffering by the political system. and for as much as the characters in rent like to sing about revolution, protest, and activism, not a single one actually challenges the powers that be or call out by name those responsible for the systematic denial of healthcare to the marginalized. activism and artistic revolution is hollow and meaningless in rent, they never name a real enemy, just a vague sense of “the man.” but it’s a story set in a real and still recent historical time period, the effects of which we still deal with today (and i’m sure even more acutely so back in 1996); it just feels disrespectful to me to use those crises as such important set dressing for your musical which positions itself as a “fuck the man” revolutionary kind of piece of theater and yet do or say absolutely nothing about the real world issues it is appropriating. for more information i highly recommend checking out lindsay ellis’ video on the topic. 

so is all this to say i think rent is an irredeemable, fundamentally broken work? actually, no; i think it has a decent foundation and some solid music. i understand the reasoning behind and appeal of updating an old work to a new time period/setting for a new audience, and i think trading 1840s paris for 1980s nyc is an interesting and workable substitution. but when i look at rent as it is now, i just do not see a finished product. 

and i think this is the most frustrating and disappointing thing about rent to me: rent is, quite literally, an unfinished show. its composer and librettist, jonathan larson, died suddenly the day of its first preview performance. and for so many developing (off-)broadway shows, previews are when the actual finished product is crafted, as the show is revised based on audience reactions. of course audience and critical reception to rent from the very beginning was positive, but i can’t help but speculate how much of that is influenced by the mere fact of its creator’s untimely death. and i wonder what changes larson would have made to his show if he had lived, and been able to hear the audience’s reactions, and revise the show accordingly. i wonder if he would have thought it worked. i wonder if he would have seen the same cracks that i see in it. i don’t think rent is inherently unsalvageable, but it is so far unsalvaged. 

and frankly i don’t know that it ever will be salvaged; not for many years, at least. not until copyright and licensing in musical theater changes, and not until broadway audiences get more comfortable with the idea of altering beloved and familiar classics (the 2019 revival of oklahoma! was, in my opinion, a work of genius, but i’m well aware my opinion is not universal, and especially during its national tour the show’s entire concept has been extremely controversial). do to rent what bartlett sher and aaron sorkin are doing to camelot right now: keep the heart and soul of the piece intact, but rewrite what doesn’t work. or do something even more drastic, cut subplots and change character traits, i don’t know. maybe mimi should die; maybe it really is important that she survive! maybe rent shouldn’t have been based on boheme at all; hell, what would rent look like if it was based on la traviata instead? (well the answer to this one is “a different show entirely,” most likely, but if you want to write a poignant and tragic love story based on a romantic opera and set in 1980s nyc featuring queer and/or HIV+ characters, well…it could work and i’ll leave it there.) maybe that’s going too far, i don’t know, but the point is, i want to see directors and writers have the freedom to try that stuff out. because i don’t think rent is unsalvageable; i think it’s unfinished. 

but rent is far too popular and beloved for anyone to dare touch its libretto with new ink. the memory of jonathan larson is held far too preciously for anyone to allow such debasement of his work. when searching online for libretti to reference when writing this essay, i found one transcribed script with this at its heading:

and i think that about sums it up for me. “may he be friggen worshiped!” him and all his creations, holy and untouchable.  it’d be tantamount to theater sacrilege at this point to try and change it. how dare you sully larson’s good name by thinking you could “fix” his masterpiece…the masterpiece no one wants to admit he never got to actually finish. well, i don’t know, maybe it’s me being jewish and sentimental here, but if i have enough respect for a piece of work i want to be able to engage with it and question it and interpret it as i think it best ought to be. (jonathan larson was also jewish. would he agree with me? i don’t know. but i think he’d want to see the best of his work, just like i do.) live theater is inherently participatory and dialectical. and it ought to be alive, not carved into stone. neither immovable nor under threat of utter annihilation should someone come too close with a chisel. rent has potential. la boheme is still as affecting today as it was a hundred thirty years ago (did you know rent premiered almost exactly a hundred years after la boheme?). rent could be the same. and it does have emotionality behind it as it is now, credit where credit’s due. but it could be more than just that. if we could just let someone finish the thing already, even if larson himself couldn’t.

[uncanny-tranny]

Maybe it's just me, but part of why I never really felt completely secure in being public about my own artistic endeavors was how... being proud of yourself in any capacity for any reason is almost a faux pas, if that makes sense.

I've noticed how it's almost expected to perform the air of humility, but is that humility? Is it humility to say, "Oh, I'm sorry for clogging your feed with my awful art" or anything to the effect of self-deprecation?

I think that's why I so often gravitate toward those who make "bad art." There's a sense of freedom that is only achieved with the level of hubris that being unashamed in the number of people who hate your art. I wonder, though, how many people don't hate the art as much as they hate that they can't chastise the artist into humility, into recognizing how "terrible" an artist they "actually" are?

[casey--owens]

"i'm saying that i already would've put a baby inside of you if we would've had time." casey and coral's relationship was still on great terms on ground level. the lack of intimate moments was becoming a bit a problem though. it seemed every time that he tried to get close to his girlfriend somebody (mainly celeste) would end up becoming a distraction. casey couldn't complain because his daughter was the best thing to have ever happened to him, but damn, he was missing coral on a deeper level than he was admitting. it wasn't even through lack of trying to get those moments. life just wasn't giving them alone time. casey's smile softened as coral mentioned wanting another kid soon. "i still can't believe that a girl like you wants to have kids with me." casey couldn't only dreamed about a girl so cute liking him back. coral topped the attractiveness scale to him. she was perfect looking. celeste looked just like coral in his eyes too . the two had the same button nose, the pretty colour eyes and the big pouty bottom lip. casey could see that celeste took his face shape slightly more though. she was definitely coral's mini me at this precise moment. casey's head shook from side to side as coral told to start behaving. "i don't know. i'm kind of blaming you for this one! who looks at their boyfriend with a mouth full of white ice cream and thinks it won't do anything to him?" coral knew that casey's love language was touch and that sight probably should've been called sweet torture for him since he couldn't do anything about it. he was trying to be so good out here too. casey kept trying to think of things to try and get rid of his problem. weird thoughts. random thoughts. just to get it gone. coral didn't know how much a simple look or the way she worded something could make him feel though. she ignited something inside of him that would refuse to burn out. a constant feeling inside of him - always. "you really don't know what you do to me."

coral rolled her eyes playfully at his words. she didn’t know a casey who cared about what people thought—he’d probably been that way since he was a kid, and honestly, she loved every second of it. the way he wore his heart on his sleeve, how transparent he was—it made it so easy to read him, and that was something she’d come to really appreciate over time. "you're definitely not," she chuckled, shaking her head as she took a bite of her ice cream, careful not to let it melt onto her hand. she loved the balance they had—coral being the calmer one and casey bringing the spark to her life. she couldn’t imagine a quiet life. ever since meeting him, she needed everything that came with him: the loudness, the boldness, and everything in between. at his words, she laughed. "there's no higher level of craziness beyond loving me?" she teased, glancing at him over her shoulder. "you'll have to find someone crazy enough to love you as much as your daddy loves me," she said to their little girl, who of course didn’t understand a word. she couldn’t help but wish that her own child would be as lucky as she was when she grew up. "oh, the only thing we need is time, we have you all worked out already," she teased, shaking her head as casey pulled them closer. "so... are we saying that celeste could maybe have a little sibling if we find the time?" she asked, her eyes filled with love as she looked at him. she’d loved every second of having celeste—well, maybe not the birth part—but she wouldn’t want anything more than to have another child with casey. motherhood suited her, if she was being honest. sure, she'd have to get back to work soon, but with what she did, she could take celeste with her or leave her with the band—those guys loved their little niece so much. "now i want another baby," she groaned dramatically, before teasing him again. "oh, you should stop, or you'll get even harder, and people will notice. pressing me against you won't help," she said with a playful kiss on his cheek. "what a sweet torture," she added, sticking her tongue out at him.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Misc. photos from the past year or so ~

[rosalind-hawkins]

What Do I Ship?

Don't mistake this for a tolerance or tier list. I will read and write ships that aren't even on this list, or write ships from the secondary list sometimes, this is just to give you a general sense of the stuff I mainly support/think about and in what capacity. Might be updated periodically. Ranting and comments in the tags.

Re: the Mokuba ships, I only ship them in non-problematic ways, where either the Kaiba brothers are ageswapped, making Mokuba the same age as the rest of the main cast, or where they only get together far post-canon where Mokuba's an adult. We cool? Cool.

Primary Ships

(things I can/want to create content for; this does not include every ship I've ever written, just the ones I care about/are currently engaged in writing/plan to write multiple fics for, or ships I just stan in a way that I know it'll never end)

Euroshipping (Kaiba x Ryou)

Puppyshipping (Joey x Kaiba)

Mumbleshipping (Kaiba x Ryou x Duke)

Teaseshipping (Joey x Ryou x Kaiba)

Snareshipping (Joey x Duke)

Trustshipping (Kaiba x Ishizu)

Polarshipping (Joey x Mai)

Blueshipping (Kisara x Kaiba)

Mizushipping (Kisara x Priest Seto)

Minorshipping (Ryou x Duke)

Mastershipping (Duke x Kaiba)

Puffshipping (Joey x Ryou)

Sweetshipping (Ryou x Mokuba)

Wintershipping (Mokuba x Amane)

Rollshipping (Duke x Ryou x Joey)

Secondary Ships

(things I will read but I don't write {much, or anymore, in some cases} for one reason or other)

Wishshipping (Joey x Yugi)

Powershipping (Kaiba x Marik)

Graceshipping (Ishizu x Ryou)

Doubtshipping (Kaiba x Ryou x Marik)

Petshipping (Duke x Kaiba x Joey)

Axisshipping (Kaiba x Siegfried)

Angstshipping (Ryou x Marik)

Irateshipping (Marik x Joey)

Buddyshipping (Joey x Tristan)

Heartshipping (Yugi x Ryou)

Fragileshipping (Yami Yugi x Ryou)

Changeshipping (Duke x Marik)

Logicshipping (Priest Seto x Priestess Isis)

Gemshipping (Ryou x Thief King Bakura)

Thiefshipping (Yami Bakura x Marik)

Candleshipping (Kaiba x Ryou x Yami Bakura)

Antagoshipping (Kaiba x Yami Bakura)

Corruptshipping (Priest Seto x Thief King Bakura)

Stoicshipping (Kaiba x Priest Seto)

Shimmershipping (Duke x Mokuba)

Guardshipping (Kaiba x Roland)

Senetshipping (Ishizu x Duke)

Angelicshipping (Ryou x Rafael)

Mercuryshipping (Kisara x Kaiba x Ishizu)

Entrepreneurshipping (Duke x Kaiba x Siegfried)

Unnamed (Aigami x Marik x Yami Bakura)

Scholarshipping (Kaiba x Ishizu x Ryou)

There's also plenty of random unnamed poly ships that I want to play around with in one-shots, usually a combo of my top six fave characters.