#commissions as I can because my savings is still not enough for a new one. 😬😬😬

[screwpinecaprice]

Frolicking among the flowers I think.

I feel like I already drew this before so hoping I didn't!

[sanctus-ingenium]

we need to talk about Inprnt.com

Following a really good post with more screenshots and evidence by @dynasoar5 i'm going to talk about my own experiences with @inprnt and why I am about to put my shop on indefinite hiatus from Monday the 14th of August.

First of all I'll say that since starting my print shop last year it has been a significant help to me financially - I was able to not worry about affording car insurance or motor tax (together commonly over a thousand euro) when I bought my first car, for example. I am immeasurably grateful to anyone who chose to buy one and I treasure all the pictures I've been sent of my prints hanging up on people's walls. Right now they are displayed in a real (if small) art exhibition in my home town.

(top right print is not from inprnt though)

They're great prints. Never had any complaints about them. But here's what's going on behind the scenes.

Earlier this year, around March or April, Inprnt sales started increasing in regularity. I'd made as much as $600 a week during previous sales when I made proper promo posts here, but with this increase in regularity, I felt that I couldn't make promo posts every single week. And then one day, I'm not sure when tbh, the sale just never ended. It just didn't stop having that "Ending soon! 15% off your order" banner at the top of the site. Right now it says "Final Hours: $5 Worldwide shipping and save up to 35% off your order!" and not even for a second do I believe in this final hours bullshit. It's been 'final hours' for weeks now. Months, even.

Why is this a problem? Well, how tf am I meant to make a promo post for a sale that is always "ending soon!!" and then never ends. One week it'll say "this weekend only!!" and then when the weekend is over, the sale banner just changes its wording and the sale doesn't end. I can't promo this, it makes me look like a liar and a skeevy salesman by association! It makes the site look like it's 1 week from crashing and burning, and the site owners are just scrabbling to suck as much money from artists as possible before they drown.

And they are sucking money from us. To peel back the curtain, Inprnt money can only be transferred to my paypal account 30 days after the sale is made, just in case the order is cancelled and refunded. This means I used to make one withdrawal every couple of months, when there was enough build-up of money to make it worthwhile. It also forbids withdrawing any sum under $50 btw. I would make a withdrawal request and then, after a 10 business day wait, it would reach my Paypal account.

Not anymore! The past few withdrawals have taken over a month to complete. They are straight up keeping my earnings from me for longer the agreed period. This was my last fulfilled withdrawal:

Note the date.

Almost two months.

And here is the latest withdrawal request that still has not been fulfilled.

It's coming up on 1 month and if the pattern continues, it could literally be November or December by the time I fully clear all sales.

So what's going to happen to my print shop? Because my art is currently being exhibited with a QR code linking to the shop, I can't close the shop this week. Instead I will close it on Monday the 14th of August, next week. That means that on the 14th of September, I can withdraw all of the remaining money without having any left over. My account balance will go to 0 and stay there. Although I'll de-list my prints I will leave my account there, because at the end of the day I don't want to leave Inprnt. It still offers the best artist margins and as I'm now unemployed after graduating, the additional support is such a load off my mind. So this is a chance to wait and see - if they improve their services, I'll happily re-open.

It's a big deal to me because selling prints is sort of my ideal life as an artist. I never had the attention span or self-discipline for commission work and I found that it left me creatively stagnant. I always want to try new things, new concepts and ideas, and being able to think "yeah, people will like this as a print" while I experiment is honestly very reassuring. And I know that in going on hiatus, it'll break a lot of "buy a print" links in my circulating posts. Oh well lmao. If you want to buy a print right now - go ahead, it might be your last opportunity. Another way to support me would be to check out my ko-fi for once-off donations or some nice sketchbooks/comics/book samples you can buy, or subscribing to my Patreon.

As of right now, Inprnt owes me $381 (the unfulfilled request submitted above for $186.60 and my current standing balance of $194.80 which takes 30 days from each transaction to clear).

[thelordfool]

Help me regain my freedom

I am *this close* to being able to afford a down payment on a car. Problem is, I can't save up for that down payment when I have the previous loan still to pay off:

Read more below for the story.

Please consider donating to a disabled queer's p*ypal, v*nmo, c*shapp, and also consider commissioning me for custom paintings (more examples here and here), character art, and more! Prices can be discussed in DM, as I'm kind of flyin by the seat of my pants right now, ignore the commission prices posted on any of the linked posts.

$0/$1500

My car got totaled a few months ago and the payment from the total loss wasn't enough to pay off the rest of the loan. I can roll an old loan into a new one, yes, but the problem with that is I am unable to save up for a new down payment. That $317.64 is just under what I get paid *in a month*. I also am enrolled in debt consolidation so I can get my credit cards paid off, which is another $200 a month. I'm living quite below my means, been taking a bus to work, but I live in a household that is incredibly abusive. i do literally all of the chores, get gaslit, misgendered, and am taking care of my roommate's children because he doesn't want to bother. getting a new car will mean I won't have to rely on using his (which literally has mold growing in it because he doesn't clean it or anything up after himself or his kids) to get to work and social functions. It would also mean I could get a second job to help supplement my hours.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for refusing to help my friend out financially after they got a new dog even though they need financial help often and are currently in debt?

Everyone is this story is mid to late 20s.

I have a friend in America who is on social benefits. So I know they don't have a lot of money. I'm also not rich but I earn minimum wage in my country and can afford to pitch in a little sometimes which I don't mind doing generally. I'm also not a big spender at all and I'm able to save up something every month.

In the past I've helped them with buying groceries and even gave them some so they could buy a laptop for art commissions and some games. I don't mind doing that at all. When their old dog got sick I helped out as well. Since I figure some people are going to want to know, in the last 5 years I have given maybe about 2000 dollars.

They got a new dog after the old one passed, which I get. A dog can be a good companion. I did find it a little irresponsible to get a new puppy when they at the time needed several hundred dollars for rent. I told them it might be better to wait until they where no longer in debt with their landlord before getting a new dog. They told me they understood my concern but they got the puppy for free from a friend so it would not be a big deal and they would be able to feed the puppy.

I did tell them puppies can get sick and end up costing a lot more than anticipated but they told me they were willing to take that risk and I decided to not push any further. I had given my opinion and there is not much else I can do. I did tell them not to count on my help financially especially since I had some things of my own that needed fixing and they told me they understood and not to worry.

But then a few weeks later the puppy ate their medicinal weed, which for some reason was within reach of a puppy, and had to get it's stomach pumped and stay overnight at the vet clinic for a few nights.

They came to me and asked if I could help out with the bill and how they would pay me back in part. The bill was over 4000 dollars. I told them sorry but no I can't. First of all, I don't even have that much, I'd have to take out a loan. Second, I warned them this could happen and that I would not be able to help out financially. They seemed a little pissed at that but I just thought it was because of the stress of the situation. They said they would try and get the funds elsewhere and asked me to share it around, which I did.

Unfortunately they didn't manage to get enough to pay the vet and ended up having to give the puppy to a shelter. It's a cute and calm pup so I have no doubt it will be adopted out quickly but it's still sad and I do feel for my friend. But now I'm being blamed for it. I've been getting several angry messages from mutual friends about how I'm the reason my friend lost their emotional support and how I'm the reason they are having a breakdown and suicidal thoughts.

I feel really badly for my friend but I also don't think it's fair to put the blame on me. The reaction from my online friend group makes me feel like I'm missing something that does make me the asshole.

[catladyoftheyr]

Too Sweet Ch. 4

Ch: (1) (2) (3) (5)

Harvey x Gn reader

Summary: you stumble upon Harvey leaving Caroline’s dance aerobics class and startle him. He accidentally drops his dumbbells on your foot and has to patch you up <3

Word count: 1.6

A/n: vhs because in my heart stardew is set in the 90s. Also he can lift you because his dance aerobics class is WORKING OKAY lmaooo I just thought it was cute 🥰

You woke up groggy, regretting the decision to pack light when you moved to the Valley. You missed your coffee maker. You desperately wanted to roll over, to pull the sheets back over your head and sleep for just 5 more minutes. But you knew yourself well enough that 5 minutes would turn into 20. You had animals to feed and crops to tend to. You dragged yourself out of bed and rubbed the sleep from your eyes before sliding your feet into your work shoes. Getting dressed could wait, you decided.

The summer air was muggy and you knew that sooner rather than later your clothes would start to stick and your hair would start to frizz. You let the animals out to graze and deftly avoided stepping on any chickens while you made your way over to the new barn you'd commissioned from Robin. A small calf poked her head out of the barn door and mooed. “Good morning to you too, Daisy.” You gave her a gentle pet on the head and she nuzzled back affectionately.

The barn and the calf had drained the last of your money. You’d have to sell directly to Pierre today if you wanted cash to buy any more seeds. You dressed for the day and headed back outside to assess what you could sell. You’d managed to craft some rudimentary sprinklers after finding a book full of blueprints your grandfather had left behind. It saved watering time, but you still had to harvest everything manually. You arranged a large basket full of everything you could part with before heading into town.

The bell on the door rang as you walked into the general store. Pierre greeted you as you set the large basket on the counter. “You’re selling today?”

“I need more seeds and tomorrow’s Wednesday.” It wasn’t technically a lie. You just omitted the fact that you were flat broke as well.

“Well I’m happy to help out. It’ll be great to have some fresh from the farm produce to offer.” Pierre took his time examining the goods you’d brought, carefully placing each item on the counter and punching numbers into his calculator. You made idle chit chat as the women from Caroline’s dance aerobics class began to file out into the store. You told Marnie that the calf was settling in just fine, thanked Robin again for her hard work on your barn. Emily told you what she was getting Gus for his birthday and overheard Jodi ask Caroline what she should make for dinner. You heard Pierre announce your total and you exchanged most of your meager earnings for seeds, pocketing the rest. You were turning to leave when you saw one more person enter the store from the house. Was that…. Harvey?

You rubbed your eyes thinking you might have made a mistake, but this town was small and that was definitely the local doctor standing there. He held a pair of small dumbbells, and you noticed sweatbands on his wrists and forehead. He wore a pair of small shorts and a t-shirt boasting what you assumed was his alma mater. You walked over to say hello and tapped him playfully on the shoulder. Harvey spun around, seemingly frightened by the unexpected touch. He dropped the dumbbells in surprise and you felt them land directly on your foot. You swore and jumped back, hopping on your good foot.

“I’m so sorry!” You both shouted in unison, apologizing to the other for different things. “I didn’t mean to startle you-“

“Your foot!”

“I think it’s okay really. I should head home.”

“You should let me examine it. The clinic is next door.” Harvey’s face displayed genuine concern, and you were secretly worried that your foot was broken. You relented, hoping the injury wasn’t going to impact your farm work. You turned around to head outside and winced as soon as you put pressure on the bad foot. You inhaled sharply and tried to find a way to walk. Harvey took notice of your efforts and wrapped one arm around your waist while draping one of yours across his shoulders. “Let me help you.”

You’d never been this close. You felt your face flush and hoped he wouldn’t notice. The act of chivalry seemed to come so naturally to him. You made your way to the clinic slowly, relishing the feeling of his arm on your waist. Harvey helped you through the doors of the clinic, allowing you to sit down on a bench in his waiting room. “Thank you” you whispered as you adjusted your positioning.

“It’s the least I could do. I can’t apologize enough for what happened. Now let’s take a look.” Harvey was especially gentle as he knelt in front of you; He unlaced your shoes, sliding off the sock of the injured foot. He pursed his lips as he examined you.

“I’m sorry I startled you. I just wasn’t expecting to see you today; at least not in Caroline’s group.”

“You need to stop apologizing.” Harvey fell silent for a moment, contemplating his next words. “I joined as a way to try and stay active. I’m not as young as I once was; it’s getting harder to stay In shape.” His face had a hint of flush to it as he spoke. You wouldn’t dream of saying it, but you found it incredibly endearing. You also couldn’t help but let your eyes wander. Harvey typically wore slacks and blazers. You trailed your vision down the lines of his arms and imagined running your fingers over the veins. His legs had a considerable amount of hair and you traced it as it disappeared under the hem of his shorts. His physique reminded you of someone’s dad, you could picture him wearing socks and sandals and denim shorts while he stood behind a grill.

“I think it’s nice that you’re making the decision to do what’s healthy. And all the women in that group are really nice. Caroline gives me some tea leaves from the bushes in her sunroom. You picked good friends.”

“Thank you. Can you promise me you won’t tell anyone else, though? Word spreads fast in small towns. I’m not ready for everyone to know about this.” His face flushed deeper, a clear shade of red now.

“I promise.” You extended your arm toward him and stuck out the pinky on your hand. “I pinky swear it.” Harvey chuckled and smiled at you before hooking his own pinky in yours and shaking hands.

Turning his focus back to your door he frowned as he felt around it gently. Even the soft touches hurt and you hissed quietly when he hit an especially sore spot. He prompted you through rotations and flexes before rising to his feet. “The good news is it’s not broken. But it’s bruised pretty badly. The swelling should go down significantly in a couple hours and you should be able to work on it tomorrow. But you need to stay off it for the rest of the day if you want it to heal. I’ll wrap it for you in a second, but you should probably ice and elevate it as well.”

The doctor disappeared behind the doors and you heard the sounds of drawers and cupboards opening and closing. You sighed and shook your head while you tried to stop the montage of scenes from today from replaying in your mind. Images of Harvey in athletic shorts, his smile as he linked pinkies, how his hands felt on you, and the look on his face when he saw you in Pierre’s swirled around your brain. Your daydreams were interrupted when Harvey emerged holding materials to wrap your foot. He worked deftly, the years of experience showing as he wrapped the fabric around you in record time. He let out a small sigh as he finished.

“You’re all set. However as your doctor I am strongly recommending that you don’t try to walk home on that foot yet. You could delay your recovery and risk further damage. Now as your friend, I’m proposing that you can come upstairs and watch a movie to stay off your feet.”

“I don’t think I can climb the stairs…”

“Leave it to me” Harvey leaned forward and swept you into his arms in one smooth motion, holding you bridal style. You gasped as your legs dangled in the air and giggled as he began to ascend the stairs carrying you. You leaned in closer, seizing the opportunity to press yourself against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he finagled the door to his apartment open. You breathed in deeply through your nose, trying to hold onto his scent before he set you down on his couch. He pulled his coffee table closer to the couch to allow you to rest and elevate your foot.

The doctor strode to a shelf near the tv that held an extensive collection of VHS tapes. He hummed as he browsed through the titles before selecting one. He popped the tape into the VCR. He settled onto the couch next to you, close enough that you could feel the fabric of his t-shirt against your arm. The movie was in black and white, definitely a classic. “I put in The Zuzu City Express. It’s one of my favorites” Harvey explained almost sheepishly. You hadn’t picked him as a film buff.

You tried to focus on the film, but the truth is you were exhausted from the stressful day. Harvey’s arm was draped across the back of the couch. You let your head fall onto his shoulder. He made no effort to move you, no indication that the action was unwanted. You relaxed and a yawn escaped. Your eyelids grew heavier as you tried harder to pay attention to the movie. Harvey’s arm moved to rest across the back of your neck, his hand falling on your shoulder as you drifted off.

[reikunrei]

feeling incredibly averse to posting this but i'm just gonna drop my kofi link here in case anyone wants to help me get out of my increasingly shitty situation living with my parents

more info below ig

after having given my parents nearly $100k over the last four years, i'd love to be able to actually leave. my future job situation is still up in the air (i've submitted for about a dozen positions and the only one i've heard back from and interviewed for hasn't gotten back to me yet), and i haven't been able to build up any savings because, again, i was (and still am) helping my family afford rent and bills, and probably the taxes my parents are behind on, but if i think about that, i'll get too angry. no joke, i've given my family, at the bare minimum, 85% of my income over the last 4 years. the rest of it has gone toward medical stuff and, now, my car

at this point, with the combo of my mom refusing to lower her standards and my dad's seeming refusal to hunt for a new full time job, i don't see how they won't continue to bleed me dry. my dad even has a bad habit of taking money out of my old savings account that he's a joint owner on or whatever from when i got it set up when i was 16, even when i stopped actively putting money in it, so now any time it gets its automated $1 transfer from my checking account, he'll just take that $1 without consulting me. i'm not exaggerating, even if it has $1-2 in it, it'll be gone within a week

i've even put off starting on testosterone because of this. i wanted to start it like 3 years ago, but kept putting it off because of money issues and wanting to save as much as possible. i got really close to actually starting it this year, but because of how messy everything is, i put it off again bc having one more thing on my plate, especially when my parents are already weird about me being trans, was not something i wanted to deal with

not to mention, we're still currently not living under a lease in our house that we're, as far as i'm aware, still tens of thousands of dollars behind in rent on (again, my dad refuses to disclose our financial position honestly with any of us) and it's developed many, many issues bc the landlord, even before we were behind on rent, is shit and refuses to actually fix anything. and my dad loves to just ignore things unless we beg him to do something

i'd love to be on my own (in the, much more affordable, midwest) by the end of summer. i by no means want to rely on donations and i have other avenues i'm working with to make money (i still have my current full time job, but i'm going through my old belongings and selling a lot online), but i'll take any help i can get atp because i'm truly at my wits end. i'd start doing art commissions again if i could, but doing that from 2020-2022, partially on top of my full time job, absolutely wrecked my right hand and i'm still in enough pain that i can't make it a regular activity

idk how much else there is to say. there's more i could say but... i don't really wanna air all my dirty laundry here. i'm miserable in so many ways and it's just become increasingly clear that my dad expects me to constantly cover his ass. my younger brother gives money too, but he manages to go on big cross-country and overseas trips with friends, so i think i've been stuck with the burden of giving the most money. there's so many more things going on in the world rn and everyone is stretched thin so i don't expect much, or anything, but. idk. might as well throw it out there, right?

i’ve also since taken down the gfm i set up last year when we got our first eviction notice bc, while we still need the money, i don’t feel right keeping it up for multiple reasons, including “i don’t want to give any of that money to my family” and it feels too… serious to keep it up when i could just throw out my kofi instead

i just want to make sure i have some sort of safety net to catch me if i move before anything job-wise is finalized. i need to be able to afford a place to live for at least a month so i can job-search while physically being in the area i wanna move to, which would ultimately make it easier for me to find a job at all. i'm working on being more firm with giving less money so i can actually have the means to move and be safe and comfortable, but... that never lasts long in this house

anyway. that's it, i guess. thanks for reading

[fillinforlater]

It’s that time of the year again. What are some of your favorite smuts released in 2023?

Monday of Appreciation: Part 104

Hello everyone, Smite here!

2023 is coming to a close and it's been quite the year, a mixture of "this is a bridge year for greater things to come" and "WE LIVIN' NOW MF!" What is a bit different this year is that the highs weren't as high and the lows weren't as low compared to previous years---maybe that is just me getting older, maybe it's hindsight. Either way, I'm good and this year was good.

But some things are more than just good. I'm of course talking about these writers and their stories that I have featured today. All of them deserve special mention, but I want to focus on two of them specifically.

In a year of great, fantastic and already legendary fics, these two stand out.

Without further ado, let's dive into the final MoA of this year:

-1-

@fanfiction4sooya: Can't Save You Now ft. Chaewon, Kazuha, Sakura

I- I- I just read the damn tags and new I one day had to give this a shot. ff4sooya has crazy ideas, futa galore, different dynamics and kinks, which is SO MY THING. This has Mommy and Daddy involved in an absurd (and absurdly hot) threesome that I couldn't take my eyes off.

Now I definitely need to read more and you should too because I bet there are a bunch of Masterpieces in that long Masterlist!

-2-

@iznsfw: Drunken ft. Olivia Hye

Is it really a Monday of Appreciation post without IZ?

Seriously, what this genius is able to cook up in a commission or in the currently ongoing (HYPE) IZ DAYS OF CHRISTMAS is absolutely incredible. We have long stories with in depth characters and love drama that ends not only smuttily but sweetly. Who the fuck needs books, when you can just binge IZ?

With "Drunken", they have once again hit it out of the FUCKIING park. There is never enough Daddy kink fics, yes, but mine seem like nonsensical cringe porn compared to this beauty of a piece. I love how it plays with my heart, no I'm not crying---okay, now that is hot.

Let me change that: there is three very fucking special stories today!

(I think this might even be better than Levi's Hyeju, wtf)

-3-

@cataboliac: Enkindle ft. Wendy

Firstly: I LOVE YOU CATA, BIG QT!

Secondly: "Enkindle" feels a bit like coming home, like a day in Paradise, like the one person that shines so bright in your life that you don't want it to go. And you know, that is the great thing: this might be Cata's final fic, the farewell, but not only is his life gonna be great and he'll be super happy - we also get to read this again and again, and I'm sure I will one day.

Thank you, Cata, for hanging around!

Thirdly: I'M GONNA KISS YOU, CATA!

-4-

@writerpeach: Delectation ft. Wonyoung, Yujin

1.000 Notes, and it's still not enough for what is my pick for fic of the year (FOTY? FOOTY? There is a scene like that, yep). IZ*ONE truly never dies, but it is IVE and these absolute super stars, bomb shells with flawless faces and different, yet irresistible bodies that have us in a frenzy.

Talking about frenzy, all those 30,699 words are a frenzy. I thought Peach would set it up with a long and painful tease that has us edging the entire time BUT NOPE this has so much fucking smut, so many lines of neediness and horniness, it is impossible to finish in one try or two tries or... I dunno, seven-hundred tries?

It's detailed, it's straight forward, it's sex from every fucking angle, I can never get tired of this. I will go so far and say this is Peach's magnum opus, the GOAT fic by the GOAT writer. At least for that day, I can say this without a doubt.

Peach, you are crazy and thank you for that <3

#PeachPavedTheWay #AnnyeongzForDaddy

[negans-lucille-tblr]

Go Easy | Sam Winchester Oneshot

Summary: Sam’s hiding a part of himself from his new, inexperienced girlfriend, but maybe he doesn’t have to. 

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Tags: teasing, flirting, mentions of virginity, mentions of liking younger women, angst, mentions of BDSM, Dom/sub vibes, mild BDSM, bondage, fingering, p in v

WC: ± 2.8K A/Ns: This was commissioned by someone who would like to remain anonymous! Hope you like it!

Sam Winchester Masterlist

“So, how did you two meet again?” 

There’s a sparkle in Dean’s green eyes that Sam knows only too well means that Dean hasn’t forgotten at all, and he’s only asking the question for one reason; to tease the living fuck out of him. 

“Urm, at the college library,” Y/N replies softly, clearing her throat and offering his brother a polite smile as she reaches for her glass of wine. 

“Of course you did,” Dean chuckles, “so you’re one of these brainy young professors too?” 

“Urr…” Y/N glances nervously at him, and Sam knows it’s his turn to step in and save her. 

“No, actually, Y/N is a student,” Sam needlessly reminds his brother, unashamedly. 

The smirk instantly curls over Dean’s lips as he chuckles, shaking his head. “A student, Sammy? You’ve been working there for two months and you’re already sleeping with the students, why am I not surprised?” 

Sam’s brow instantly pulls into a frown as he shakes his head. “No, it’s not like that, De,” he protests, looking over to see Y/N is also confused by Dean’s comment. 

“What does he mean?” she asks, blinking at him. 

“Nothing,” Sam insists. “He’s just being an ass.” 

Dean continues to chuckle, reaching for his beer and taking a long swig before swallowing hard and licking his lips. “Listen, we can just address the elephant in the room, okay?” he grins, looking between them. 

“Dean, no,” Sam warns, hoping his brother will realise he is barking up the wrong tree completely right now and will back off. 

“Oh c’mon, Sammy, we shared a bedroom wall long enough for me to know what you’re into. You’re hardly shy about it. And we’re all adults here… at least…” his eyes land back on Y/N, and Sam’s jaw clenches. 

“Jesus, Dean, she’s more than legal,” Sam grunts, wishing his legs were just a few inches longer so he could kick his brother under the table. 

“Relax, I’m teasing you both,” Dean laughs easily, lounging back in his chair with his beer in hand. 

Sam glares over at his older brother for a moment, before looking across at Y/N to make sure she’s okay. She seems a little flustered, but before he can reach out to take her hand in hopes of relaxing her a little, she rises to her feet and softly excuses herself. Sam watches her leave, heading towards the bathroom, and then turns his attentions back to his brother. 

“Seriously, dude?” he huffs. “Now she probably thinks I’m some pervert.” 

“Well, from what I’ve heard–” 

“Dean, I’m serious,” Sam interrupts. 

“Oh, c’mon Sammy, you’re not exactly quiet about your… tastes,” Dean argues, smirking slightly. “I’m just saying that she’s exactly the kind of girl I thought you’d date.” 

“It’s not like that, De,” Sam protests, “not with her.” 

Dean cocks an eyebrow as if he doesn’t believe him. “So you’re telling me you’re not dating a younger woman who’s all quiet and reserved because she’s exactly the kind of girl who obeys your every command?” he mocks. 

“She’s not like that,” Sam continues to argue, and he thinks maybe Dean is finally believing him, because a small frown pulls on his brow.

“Wait… really? This isn’t one of your… kinky things?” 

“No, Dean,” Sam scoffs, still amused by Dean’s naivety even after all this time. Sam’s tried on more than one occasion to educate his brother on the lifestyle, but Dean couldn’t be further from Sam when it comes to things like this. “We’re actually dating, she’s actually my girlfriend,” he explains. “My very inexperienced girlfriend you’ve probably completely freaked out, so thanks for that.” 

“Inexperienced?” Dean blinks, but then another cheeky smile lights up his face. “Sammy, you dirty dog!” 

“Dean–” 

“Well, in my defense, dude, you don’t date much.” 

“You didn’t think it was weird I’d asked you to meet her?” Sam questions. 

“I don’t know what happens between you and these girls,” Dean protests, shrugging. He’s quiet for a moment, but then he seems to get a little more serious, playing with his beer bottle. “So, is she open to what you like, or…”

Sam can tell that it’s a genuine question, so he doesn’t roll his eyes or complain, instead he takes a deep breath and decides to answer honestly. “I doubt it, we’ve never talked about it.” 

“So you’d pack it all in for her?” he asks next. “Do you like her enough to do that?”

“Yeah, I think I would,” Sam nods honestly. 

“Well then, I’m sorry dude, didn’t mean to freak her out.” 

Sam looks towards the door leading down the hallway towards the bathroom and takes a deep breath. “I’m sure she’s fine,” he tells his brother, realising he’s only trying to convince himself more than Dean. 

Y/N has been even more quiet than usual as they clean up after dinner. With Dean now gone, Sam was hoping she’d be a little more confident, like he’d noticed her becoming in the recent weeks, but she doesn’t say much as she clears away plates and carries them out into the kitchen, placing them alongside the sink. He watches her begin to run the hot tap, filling the sink up with warm, soapy water, and leans in the doorway just observing for a moment or two, wondering how he’s going to approach this. 

“Hey, let me do that, it’s my place,” he protests, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle. 

“It’s fine,” she insists softly. Sam places a soft kiss to the back of her head, and he watches as her movements slow and she clears her throat. “Sam, what did your brother mean when he said he’s not surprised that I’m a student?” 

“Nothing,” Sam half lies. “He was just being an older brother and trying to embarrass me.” 

“So you’ve not been with other students?” she checks, turning herself around and stepping out of his embrace to face him. 

“No, not since I was a student myself,” he tells her honestly this time. 

“Students your own age?” she asks next, almost challengingly. 

“Pretty much,” he nods. “Y/N, I’m not into young girls or anything,” he laughs awkwardly. “There’s not even ten years between us, it’s not about that for me. Look… can we just forget the whole dinner, please?” he pleads, already exasperated. 

She’s been spooked enough for one night, she doesn’t need to hear all about Sam’s twisted, kinky fetishes too. He’s kept those a secret for a reason. He didn’t know it when he first started dating her, but Y/N had been a virgin before they met, and he could still count on one hand how many times they’ve had sex. If he was ever going to show her that side of him, it wouldn’t be now. 

“So you’re not into young virgin girls?” she asks bluntly, blinking at him. 

“No, absolutely not,” Sam protests immediately, the very implication making his skin crawl. “Firstly, I didn’t even know you were a virgin when we met. Secondly, you’re twenty two, you’re not even a teenager anymore–” 

“Okay,” Y/N interrupts. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to accuse you of being a perv or anything, I just… when Dean said he knows what you’re into…” 

“He didn’t mean that,” Sam tries to explain. 

“Then what did he mean?” she presses, blinking at him again. 

Sam sighs heavily, not sure he can answer that honestly if he wants to keep her in the dark about his fantasies and desires. 

“Is it bad? Is that why you won’t tell me?” she implores. 

“No, it’s not bad,” he argues weakly, shaking his head. “I just don’t wanna freak you out, I know you’re new to all this.” 

“Maybe physically, but one of the perks to being late in the game means I’ve done a lot of research,” Y/N admits coyly. “So I’m not as naive as you think.” Sam’s eyebrows rise at her implication. “Just tell me, Sam, please?” she begs softly, a lot more seriously than before. 

Sam huffs a breath and licks his lips for a second, gathering his thoughts. 

“Usually, I like a certain… dynamic in the bedroom,” he tries to explain briefly. “But, I would never expect that from you, so I’ve never brought it up. I’m fine with the way things are between us,” he rushes to add for reassurance. 

“What kind of dynamic?” Y/N asks, seeming to ignore the second half of his comment. 

“Urm… me in charge… in control… y’know, pain for pleasure kind of thing,” he admits, feeling his cheeks heating up at his admission. Normally he’s a lot more sure of  himself, oozing confidence as he explains exactly how he expects it to go down between him and the girl he’s about to fuck. But Y/N is different, and he doesn’t want her running for the hills because of this. 

“So BDSM stuff?” she clarifies, biting her bottom lip. 

“Yeah, that stuff,” he nods. “So are you freaked out?” he asks, unable to stop himself. 

Y/N doesn’t answer at first, she just stares at him and swallows hard, and Sam’s pretty sure she’s about to break up with him, leave and never come back. But what actually happens takes him off guard, as his eyes follow her as she drops to her knees at his feet and settles into a kneeling position, looking up at him through her lashes. 

“What… What are you doing?” he stammers out, afraid that maybe she feels like she has to do this for him. 

“Something like this?” she checks. 

“You don’t have to–” 

“You don’t think I don’t know exactly what you want… Sir?” she asks softly, a tiny smirk beginning to spread over her lips. 

Instantly Sam’s cock begins to harden behind his jeans. It’s been a while since he’s seen a girl on her knees at his feet, and while he hears people call him Sir a lot thanks to his job, it feels so different hearing it come from her lips in that tone. 

“A-are you sure?” Sam checks sincerely for a moment. 

She doesn’t reply to begin with, she just reaches out, softly running her hand up his leg, over his thigh and towards the now obvious bulge in his pants. 

“Like I said, I’ve done my research, I know what I like the look of,” she explains, her hand now cupping his cock through the denim, making Sam’s head a little foggier. “I wanna know if it’s as good as it looks, I want you to teach me,” she purrs, blinking at him seductively. “Just go easy on me?” 

Sam reaches forward, cupping the side of her face. “I’ve got you, baby girl,” he confirms, feeling her lean into his touch. “I’ll guide you through it.” 

Your POV

Holy fuck. 

Sam’s teeth drag down your throat, his large hands finally releasing your wrists above your head, smoothing down your arms. 

“Leave them there,” he growls against your skin, his hands now finding your breasts, fondling them for a moment or two before reaching around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You moan, arching your back into him, your hands finding his long hair so you can card your fingers through it. “I said, leave them there,” Sam growls, instantly pinning your hands above your head once more. “Don’t make me tie them up.” 

Just the very thought of him tying you to the bed, making you completely at his mercy makes your insides flutter with even more arousal that pools between your bare legs. 

“Please do,” you find yourself gasping, your brain foggy with arousal and desperation. 

“You’d like that, hm?” he smirks, leaning back to look at you. “You’d like me tying you up, using you however I want?” You instantly nod, desperate for just that. “Use your words, baby girl… always use your words with me,” he commands. 

“Y-yes I want that,” you confirm verbally. 

“Sir,” he adds for you. 

“Sir,” you also add, breathlessly. You’d always liked the idea of calling a guy Sir in the bedroom, but you never thought it would be this much of a turn on.

You watch him climb off of you, now standing at the foot of his bed as he reaches down for his jeans on the floor, and without taking his eyes off of you, he grabs the belt still in the loops and pulls it free. The sight is near enough orgasmic as you once again arch your back and moan, desperate for some attention between your legs. 

Sam uses the tail of his belt to trail up your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake as you squirm underneath him. 

“Maybe one day we can use this for something a little more entertaining,” he ponders, a wicked smirk curling over his lips. “But for now, we can make good use of it in other ways.” 

You feel him wrap the leather around both your wrists, and with only a few tugs, you find yourself bound to the headboard, unable to move your hands very far; unable to touch him anymore. And suddenly, you want nothing more. His cock is hard and practically dripping with precum on your thigh, and you want to wrap your hand around it, to give him some relief. But he seems unfazed by the lack of attention it’s receiving, instead focused on your body, and the way it’s writhing underneath him. 

His hazel eyes scan over what feels like every single inch, and he hums in appreciation, his hands beginning to ghost over your skin. When his touch begins to trail lower than your belly button, you find your legs widening as if to encourage him between them. He seems to oblige without any further teasing, which you’re grateful for, because you’re not sure how much longer you can take this. Your head feels like it’s going to explode. Being at someone’s mercy is so much better than it had been in your head all those times you’d gotten yourself off to the fantasy, or touched yourself to those videos you used to be so ashamed about liking. 

“Someone’s wet,” he notes, a smug grin on his lips at the fact. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” 

You nod desperately, bucking your hips against his fingers, feeling him rub your clit as you begin to moan. 

“Yes, Sir,” you rush to confirm, just about mustering enough sanity to remember to use your words like he’d commanded. 

“If you like this, wait until I train you to be the perfect little slut for me,” he growls, and you gasp for air as his fingers push inside you with his words, your head spinning with the mixture of the sensation and the very thought of his words. “This body is perfect, and it’s all mine, isn’t it?” he asks, his eyes landing on yours. 

“All yours, Sir,” you confirm, breathlessly. “Please… please fuck me,” you find yourself begging, unable to take much more. You just want to feel him inside you; it’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, and you only wish you’d have met him sooner. 

“That’s not how you beg,” Sam growls, curling his fingers and making you cry out in pleasure. “Ask nicely, or I won’t fuck you at all.” 

“Please, Sir. Please will you fuck me? I need you to fuck me, please.” 

“That’s better,” Sam hums, removing his fingers and stroking his cock, slicking it with your juices from his fingers. “Such a good girl, I can tell you’re going to do so well,” he praises. 

He leans over you, teasing the tip of his cock through your arousal, softly pressing against your opening as he chuckles at your desperation. You buck your hips in hopes that he’ll slide deeper, but he holds back, smirking almost evilly down at you, clearly relishing in just what he’s driven you to. 

“Please, Sir,” you beg one last time, barely audible through your gasps for breath. 

Sam leans down, bringing his mouth close to your ear, his cock still only just inside you. “I love the way that sounds on your lips,” he breathes out, his cock throbbing as if to prove his point. “I can’t wait to show you exactly how I like it.” And just the thought of this getting even better, has you on the edge.

[tgmsunmontue]

Online & Anonymous 1/16

Hangster. Explicit. (2.5k chapter) Years before they meet in person Bradley and Jake strike up a friends-with-benefits relationship online. And then something more like an actual relationship.

A predominantly epistolary fic set in a world where papers were pulled and events of TGM will take place and DADT exists until it is repealed at the end of 2011.

The website they begin chatting on is called 'Jake', which was a site that existed back in the early 2000s. (It was too good an opportunity to miss).

Odd year = Bradely's POV and Even year = Jake's POV

>>Bradley chatting (bold and italics)

>>Jake chatting (italics)

Many thanks to @celandinebergerac, @phisworld14, @redfurrycat and @nevergettingoverit for being my sounding boards as I hashed this out.

2005 – Bradley

                Bradley refuses to be grateful about his years at college. Going the ROTC route has meant he’s likely had a wider exposure to certain elements than if he’d gone to USNA but he still doesn’t understand why Pete pulled his papers, or why Tom let him, but they’re his past now. He has a new family, his fellow classmates and the online message boards he found when he was exploring. He’s got them in his corner no matter where he goes in the world now, his own private little cheering squad. Of course he’s been lonely in the holidays, but he’s made do. Usually working to earn money to see him through the next semester.

                One thing he has saved and scrimped for is a laptop. A personal laptop that he can use to keep in touch with his friends he made online and at college. Yes he could of course use the communal computer labs, and he will need to do that to actually get closer to the WiFi signal, however he doesn’t have to use a communal machine, which makes him more comfortable considering what he often uses his machine for. He’s aware of what he says and does could be used against him, but he’s aware now that he could do something else with his life if he had to. Not that he wants to, but he will if he has to.

                And it’s all been worth it. He’s made it, he’s at flight school, is a commissioned officer in the US Navy and now he just needs to be the best. He knows he’s good, flight school is highly competitive and the fact that he’s here is enough of a confidence boost that he’s actually good enough, no matter what Pete or Tom think. That it didn’t take anyone’s name to get him here. He settles into the orientation session, listening intently, taking notes, and looking around at the rest of the class. He recognizes a few faces, but most are simply a haze, although he knows that will change soon enough. A break comes and the woman beside him turns to him.

                “Hi, Natasha Trace.”

                “Bradley Bradshaw, nice to meet you.”

                “Is that actually your name?”

                “Yep,” Bradley sighs, resigned to going through the whole thing with another group of people.

                “Ouch. My condolences.”

                Bradley laughs, pretty sure he’s going to like her.

2006 – Jake

                Jake stares at the name of the site and he’s pretty sure he could use Jake as his username, and no one would believe that it’s actually his name. And he’s not actually going to use his whole first name, he remembers a few details about staying safe online. He creates an account, his hands shaking a little because he’s not ever gone looking for anything like this before, not online. Not where he might get found out.

>>Okay, if that’s the year of your birth you need to change your username. That’s not a smart thing to put on here.

                Jake stares at the message, then at his username. It needed to be eight characters or less and something he’d remember. Of course he’d gone with his initials and the year he was born. Of course that maybe wasn’t the smartest thing in the world in hindsight, but he’s new to this. What this PeteF14 thinks he knows isn’t much, because he’s fucking using a first name and the name of a fighter jet. It couldn’t be more obvious. Well, maybe he’s just a fan of fighter jets?

>>What’s wrong with JAS1986?

>>And you’re using your first name, that’s not smart either.

>>Pete is definitely not my first name. It’s not even part of my name. I hate the name Pete.

>>Oh my god, why did I use the name Pete?

>>I don’t know, you tell me.

>>Just someone from my past I’d rather forget. How about you call me Nick instead? Actually.

>>PeteF14 has changed their username to NickNick

>>Again not your name huh?

>>Nope. But it is a family name somewhere in the line of my ancestors.

                Jake snorts, because that could be father, uncle, grandparents. Hell, it could even be part of a last name, which he guesses is actually pretty smart as names go, for it to be something so generic.

>>You need to make a new username though. There are some dodgy people online.

>>But not you right?

>>I can be plenty dodgy if the circumstances require it, but just doing my civic duty. Change your username kid.

                Fucking fine. He doesn’t want to be kept calling kid by strangers on the internet. This isn’t why he signed up to this account.

>>JAS1986 has changed their username to JASTexas

>>No! Don’t put where you’re from. Or where you live. Fucking hell. Is this your first time or something?

>>Yes, if you must know.

>>What would you suggest? Considering your name was something you apparently hated and is now NickNick, which is ridiculous by the way, double-barrel names like that sound stupid.

>>This isn’t why I signed up to this site. And Texas is a fucking huge state, and even if I did still live there, it’s not where I live now.

>>Sorry. How about TJASX, or 00Austin, JASUSA maybe?

>>You suck at coming up with usernames.

>> JASTexas has changed their username to 00JASTYX

>>Hmm. Yeah. Better.

>>So glad to have your approval.

>>I can’t tell if you’re being a dick, or if you actually want my approval. Because I do like that you listened to me. If that’s something you’re into.

>>I don’t know what I’m into. First time remember?

>>First time online right?

>>No. Not just online.

                He pushes the laptop away from himself, suddenly mortified that he’s admitted that to someone. Not that it matters, not that he just can’t outright lie about it, and he shouldn’t care so much, but… well. He does. He doesn’t like not knowing, not having that life experience. Not that he can just go out and get it, hence… this.

>>You ever slept with a guy?

>>Yep. I got the whole college experience under my belt.

>>I’m jealous. None of that where I went. And not really easy now either.

>>You ever had cybersex? I can tell you what to do to yourself. Might get you off.

                Jake’s pretty sure there isn’t any might about it, is already getting hard just thinking about it, just having this tenuous connection with someone, anyone, that might in fact be like him. Fuck. He has no idea if this Pete-hating Nick guy is even a guy, or how old he is, or even where he is in the world. It’s all sorts of freeing actually, this level of anonymity that despite the fact that Nick knows he considers Texas home and is born in 1986 there is nothing else about him that can be used to identify him.

>>No, but I am very open to new experiences. You want to tell me what to do huh?

>>No, I think this time I want to tell you what I want to do to you.

>>You can touch yourself however you like.

>>Trust me, you can just read. Multi-tasking takes a while to figure out.

                Jake snorts, but Nick probably, no, definitely, has more experience than Jake in all things sex-related and if all he has to do is read words on his screen then he can manage that. Although he’s going to practice, wants to be able to jerk off and type at the same time, get good at doing it one-handed. Wants to be able to reciprocate in the future.

>>Your first time, I’d kiss you, slowly and softly to start with, and I’d hold your body close, because I want to feel it against mine, solid and warm. I’d slip a hand between our bodies, run my fingers up the length of your cock, feel how warm it is, how heavy… 

>>God I love the feeling of a cock in my hand, knowing how much pleasure it can bring.

>>We’re still fully clothed, I want to enjoy undressing you. I’m not touching your cock to get you hard, more giving you a promise of what’s to come.

                Jake’s mouth is dry, his entire body tingles at the images and ideas this is creating. These words are meant for him, and him alone and he runs his fingers down his body in a ghosting imitation of what it might feel like to finally have someone else’s hands on him. This is exactly what he was looking for when he made the account, something real but also not too risky. A little risky though, but it’s not heading out to the nearest gay bar.

>>I’m pulling your shirt out of your pants, getting my hands onto your skin, just touching for a little before I go back and undo the buttons and push your shirt off your shoulders.

                Jake groans, part of him impressed that his guy has somehow picked exactly what kind of shirt Jake is wearing, and he pulls it off, along with his singlet top, lets his hand stroke over his skin and is a little surprised at the responding shiver his body makes. He likes this even more than he thought he would. He shoves off his pants, not wanting to wait until Nick tells him he’s taking them off.

>>You’re enjoying it, enjoying my hands on you, warm fingers just tracing over your skin, making you feel desirable. I’m still kissing you, still pretty softly, I don’t want to spook you, not this first time. I run my hand down your body again and I find your cock. It’s gotten harder, pressing against the front of your pants and I can feel how thick you are. I want a closer look. A taste.

>>I kiss down your neck, along your jaw, suck at your nipples a little until I’m on my knees in front of you.

                Jake groans, imagines some guy wanting to do this with him, to him, for him. He reaches for his lube, glad he doesn’t have to try and type, squeezes a little out, he doesn’t like it too slick, grips his cock and strokes, tries to imagine what a hot mouth would feel like sucking him down.

>>I know it will be warm, I’ll inhale through my nose, learning what you smell like. I’ll exhale through my mouth, pressing it to your cock so you feel the warmth of my breath through your pants around your most sensitive skin.

>>I undo the button of your pants, carefully lower the zipper, and then pull them down, tugging your underwear down carefully as well. Then I can finally taste, get my tongue on you, let my fingers dig into the muscles of your thighs and bring you closer to me.

>>I am not in any type of rush, I love giving blowjobs, gets me off, having a guy trust me this much. Just let my face rest there and breathe for a few seconds before I lick up your length, one of my hands coming to fondle your balls. Some guys love having their balls sucked, I wonder whether you will?

                Jake bites his lip, his hand stroking harder and faster, wonders when he’ll get to find out, god he wants to find out. If this is how good the written word is he really wants to find someone he can try these things with in-person. He might have to wait a couple of years still, but fuck it’ll be worth it. God it better be worth it.

>>I lick at the head of your cock, place a light kiss and then I lick and purse my lips, making a warm slippery heat for you to press into and then I suck you into my mouth and all you can feel is sudden tight heat around your cock. I’ve moved my hand to the bottom of the shaft, stroking you there but I’m sucking the head and top half of your cock with the sole intent that I want you to come in my mouth.

                Jake whines, his hips jerking as he imagines coming in someone’s mouth, having someone wanting him to come in their mouth. For it to be sexy rather than dirty or forbidden. That idea, that he will one day get to be sexy, that he will have someone that is his, that wants to be with him, is what has him coming, his breath coming in rough pants, loud in the quiet of his room, all the tenseness in his muscles suddenly turning into hot liquid as he comes and he groans.

>>I reach for one of your hands, get you to run your hand through my hair, encourage you to pull a little as I suck you harder and faster. I want to make you noisy, want to hear your pleasure when you come. Want you to come.

                Jake quickly wipes himself clean, the tissues by his head there pretty much there solely for this purpose and he wants to go and wash his hands before typing but he types one thing before sprinting to the little bathroom and washing his hands as quickly as possible before running back to his bed and laptop.

>>Wow.

>>Mmm. I’ll take that as a compliment.

>>I hope that was an okay first time.

>>You know where to find me if you want to.

                Jake shivers, re-reads the words, because first time implies there will be more and he can only imagine the things he might get to share.

>>Thanks.

>>That was really something.

>>Was good. Amazing.

>>I enjoyed it.

>>A lot.

                Oh god, he’s babbling through the internet and the guy is probably laughing at him.

>>Good. I’m glad. Can’t vouch for your first time in real life, but at least you can always hit me up if you find the real thing lacking.

>>Actually the real thing can take some practice and experience to get right, so don’t just go with the first guy who shows interest okay? Learn from my mistakes at least.

>>Your first time wasn’t good?

>>Nope. Got better of course. Eventually. But I had years at college to figure things out. Now I’m not at college, but I’m still figuring things out. Young yet though. Got time. Not as young as you though.

>>Haha. I’m legal.

>>Yeah well, I’ll have to take your word for that.

                He signs off, feeling a little awkward and he wonders how awkward it would be if it was face-to-face. Yeah, he’s really not ready for that yet.

                The awkwardness fades though, and he chats with Nick almost weekly. They definitely get better at the sex talk, and Jake becomes adept at one-handed typing. They also talk about other stuff, and Jake can feel like he can ask him anything, be open with his worries about his career, without going into detail about what that career is exactly. Nick is non-judgemental, answers all his sex questions and when he goes looking to verify some of the answers he finds that the information he’s getting is solid. Correct. It makes him trust him. Probably more than is wise, but he doesn’t share any further information that could identify him. The risks are too high and Nick hasn’t offered up anything either.

                Then Nick says he’s going to be online less regularly, maybe not online at all, potentially for five to seven months and Jake is surprised at how disappointed he feels. Somehow, with the sex and the talking and the fact that he’s been able to be so open with Nick about being gay makes Nick feel like his best friend. He has other friends, but none of them know he’s gay. He’s far too scared to tell them.

                Maybe one day.

2007 - Bradley - Chapter 2

[semper-draca]

There's something so depressing about being an artist on tumblr these days that I'm finding hard to articulate. Years ago, shitty one-hour sketches I posted would at least get double digits in the notes. These days, I can post commissions that took over fifty hours and get 5 notes at most. Blah blah do art for yourself, sure, but the important part is -

I Rarely Get Commissions Anymore.

Where I used to have to limit how many comms I could accept at once because I'd get that many requests, now I'm lucky to get two when I open up coms again. People don't reblog the art I do for myself, so no one finds my commission info that way. People don't reblog the art I do for commissions, so no one finds my commission info that way. People don't reblog commissions posts. A couple likes will get tossed at it from people who don't actually reach out in interest, so it doesn't circulate and it's just me reblogging it into the void, desperately hoping for some modicum of cash. I feel like people don't understand these days how little money most artists are bringing in, and the anxiety that comes with drastically declining circulation of art on websites like tumblr. Right now, for example, I'm desperate to earn as much money as I can during the summer because what I earn this summer? Has to last me rent for seven months straight to help offset the inevitable drain of all the savings I have. Normally some of that would come from art - nowadays, I can't rely on getting even a single commission.

I think this anxiety and this real material concern is what is behind all those "please for the love of god reblog art/posts you like" posts that people love to get angry about. If you haven't been here for years, it can be hard to see the ways in which this vanishing reblog culture has severely hit artists and forced many away from this platform. I don't want to leave tumblr or stop posting my art here, but good god is it depressing to see this site, and I cannot stress this enough, almost COMPLETELY VANISH as a revenue stream. I don't know what the solution to this culture shift is, but I do know that it's causing this site to deteriorate and forcing artists to move elsewhere and invest less effort on tumblr because it no longer makes any financial sense. I know that everyone is tired of hearing this, and fair enough, because there are plenty of other artists with louder voices than mine saying similar things, but please, if you like some art, consider reblogging it. Even if you have no interest in ever commissioning that artist. Others might see it and be interested, and that's how most new clients are made. Artists have rent on the line.

anyway, if you've made it to the end of this rant and haven't blocked me for it lmao, I still have commissions open

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Welcome to the Drabble-A-Thon!

What is it?

From September 6th to September 15th, I will be offering 1,000-word drabble commissions for $5 through Ko-Fi!

Why is this a thing?

My job pushed back my start date by a month and a half, and I've noticed that my 3-year-old phone's screen is starting to burn out (my last phone lasted 5 years and I am incredibly salty about this). I want to take the week I'm off to try and get some outside work to start saving up to replace it and stay ahead on bills despite the delay. 

How does it work?

If you make a donation of $5 on Ko-Fi, and give a 1-2 sentence description of your drabble idea in the donation note, I will write a 1,000 word* story! The story will be posted publicly on Ko-Fi, and cross-posted to Tumblr as well**. These will be done on a first-come first-serve basis, and I will keep a post on Ko-Fi and Tumblr updated on what number submission I am on. Because I don't know how many prompts will be given, I can't give a firm estimate on when the pieces will be delivered, so the queue will be the best way to see when your request is being worked on! 

*The finished drabble will be a minimum of 1,000 words, if I go over by a bit, that is on me, and just a fun bonus for you! 

**Ko-fi has strict guidelines for NSFW material, and anything rated "Explicit" will only be able to be posted to Tumblr. If you would like a PDF copy as well, please provide an email address to send it to in your message!

Are there any rules I should know about?

First and foremost, please make sure that you read my general commission guide which can be found here. Keep in mind I do not write Sub!/Bottom!Tomura or Dom!/Top!Dabi. If you have a question about your concept that is not answered by the guidelines, please feel free to DM me on Tumblr before donating! 

In addition, please note that 1k isn't a lot of words, so try to keep concepts simple enough to be executed within that amount of story! 

These drabbles also cannot be add-ons to other existing stories. For example, no drabble prompt can be for a story set after the end of Changing Currents, or an exploration of Dabi's time on the streets before Tomura adopted him in A Cat by Any Other Name. These are for stand-alone pieces in order to keep things simple and not conflict with the canon of my existing works! 

Can I donate more than $5 to get a longer story?

No. This is a drabble-a-thon! While you are welcome to donate however much you would like, every $5 only gets one 1k word story. If you would like to donate $10, then you are welcome to put two drabble prompts in your donation note which will then both enter the queue and be posted! Every multiple of 5 is eligible for a new prompt! 

If you would still like a longer story from me, then you can always DM me about setting up a full commission! 

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Coming up with story prompts can be hard! You can send in 1-2 sentences of your idea, or you can simply send in a kind of AU, a rating, or a kink (or a few of them 👀), and let me take it from there! If you really, really can't think of anything at all, then just send in "Free Style", and I'll come up with something to fill the drabble! This is meant to be fun, please don't feel any pressure!

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[assaily]

Hi, it's been a while. I'm here to feed the fandom with some fic snippets. I've been having some of the worst creative block of my life this last year but I've made it another rotation around the sun today so I thought I would share what I have been working on.

Working title: Something Delicate Something (still working on it obvs) Colloquial title: Buffalo Wild Wings Main themes: Vulnerability and accepting help

This is from the silly little wing-fic I occasionally tease about. Wings are a rare genetic mutation that only occurs in a small percentage of the population, so Klaus is the only other one besides Five who has wings. People aren't born with wings, but grow them during adolescence. Five is about to grow his but he's the only one that knows that, but his siblings may or not suspect something. When he grew them in the apocalypse, they emerged with one weak, broken, and useless (because he was starving and alone). They were a burden on him his whole life, a point of weakness. The Commission removes them when they picked him up, a cultural taboo that Five is convinced was a necessary procedure. He's afraid to tell his brothers about his wings, afraid to share that vulnerability with them.

Takes place about a year and half to two years after they save the world and return to a timeline much like their original. Five has a large mental break before this part of the story that spurs his brothers into taking better care of him. Five doesn't know how to feel about being taken care of like that.

Klaus did think he was an angel, going so far as to exclaim it loudly for the whole house to hear when he offered the half-cream-half-coffee. He was nearly done molting now, most of his flight feathers coming back in at once, but he was sleeping for periods of twelve hours or more.

Klaus complained about how exhausted he was and how badly the poor things itched. Five patiently brushed oils into the new feathers and carefully picked the loose ones coming out. Klaus had the misfortune of both having large wings and having a molt that happened in one big collapse. It meant a mess.

So while his brother sat in the nest of blankets, pillows, and feathers in his room sipping his cream, Five acquired a broom and started the great clean-up task. Approximately twenty-eight minutes after Five woke him up, Klaus started his stereo, playing something with a gentle piano at a medium volume so it filtered out into the hallways for Five.

It’s easy to work to, and Five lost himself into a rhythm of sweeping and piling the dark tawny feathers together. The sun was peeking in through the windows when Klaus came out to take his empty cup downstairs for a refill. He came back up fifteen minutes later with two mugs and Diego with a much larger broom in company.

“Back up has arrived,” Klaus said cheerily, trading Five the refilled mug for his broom. “Go sit down or something, me n’ Diego can finish this.”

Five only relinquished the broom because Klaus wordlessly threatened to keep the coffee hostage until he did. “I can finish,” he groused, taking a sip and getting instantly distracted. Klaus had been getting very good with a french press lately, and Five was coming to appreciate it. Based on the twinkle in his brother’s eyes as he watched Five drink his coffee, Klaus knew just how good at it he was getting. 

“Go, shoo, we got this. You’ve done enough.”

Five turned his attention to Diego, standing silently by watching the two of them interact like an onlooker at the zoo. “How’d you get roped up into this?”

Diego shrugged, failing to smother a smirk. “Klaus was telling me what a good doting brother you’ve been lately, and we both decided you needed to take a break.”

Five squinted at him, suspicion stirred by the smirk. “Taking care of this idiot,” he jabbed a thumb at Klaus. “Is probably the least stressful thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Aww, thanks,” Klaus said sincerely from where he’d started tidying up Five’s already made piles. 

“Still,” Diego said, something false about his casually friendly smile, but Five still wasn’t good enough with faces to identify the issue. He sidled up to him, switching the broom from one hand to the other. “It’s so nice of you to help.”

Klaus glanced back at them and straightened with a jolt, Diego’s name forming around his lips. Five sensed more than saw Diego’s palm coming to slap him on the back, and abruptly he understood what the ploy was.

Five would have preferred to save his coffee, but the rage that bubbled up from the pit of his stomach chose vengeance instead. The mug likely broke, spilling really good coffee all across the hallway, but the only one who got to see it was Klaus. Diego ended up being dropped from the second story into an open dumpster two blocks over– it was the closest open dumpster Five knew about, and would force him to walk back covered in trash. Five himself landed on a fire escape just long enough to make sure he hadn’t accidentally hurt Diego, before popping back to his room.

It was silly to be so mad about it, about practically nothing at all, but his hands still shook as he tore into his wardrobe for clean clothes and a towel. A hot bath would help him feel better, the steam would ease the headache drilling into the back of his skull and down his spine. Then he would take a nap, and if anyone had an ounce of self-preservation, he would remain undisturbed.

Of course, none of his brothers had self-preservation, or brain cells. Except maybe Viktor, but he and his lonely brain cell were woefully absent. Klaus was waiting for him in his room when he returned from his bath. He was glad he had the foresight to put a shirt on, but he’d really had hope for that nap.

“What do you want?”

“What, you’re up in my grill for a week and now you want nothing to do with me?”

“I wasn’t ‘up in your grill’. If you didn’t want me to help, you could have told me to go away. In fact you did, so I filled my schedule, I have shit to do, get out.”

“Okay, grumpy, jeez,” Klaus put his hands up, jumping up off the bed when Five came at him, threatening to use his damp towel as a weapon. “Is your back okay?”

“It’s fine,” he snapped.

“Really, cause Diego was gone for like half an hour, and he came back smelling like a dumpster, so I’m just wondering if he hurt you or something because that was really dramatic–”

“Get. Out.” He punctuated his point by snapping the towel loudly.

“Okayeeee!” Klaus yelped, leaping toward the door with an obscene cackle born of hysterical fear. Complete lack of self-preservation. If Five ever made that much noise while in danger, he would have been dead a hundred times over.

Five slammed the door shut behind him, closing his eyes and listening to his brother hover outside for about forty seconds before leaving. When Klaus finally shuffled away, Five let go the breath he was holding, scrubbing at his face.

He hadn’t slept much last night, or most nights. Less so lately with his back beginning to hurt so much. If Diego had touched him, the gig might have been up, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to hide his reaction. The uncontrollable rage was just a side effect of all the hormones his body was releasing, but he was also usually an asshole, so he didn’t think his siblings would notice the difference.

“Dramatic,” he echoed to himself. Sending Diego two blocks over and into a dumpster was a little dramatic, but the other option was the pond in the park a mile and half west of the academy. It seemed like an unnecessarily large expenditure of power to send him all that way, so Diego got the shorter, dryer walk. So really, Five wasn’t as dramatic as he could have been.

And if Klaus really saw that as just an innocent pat on the back, he was lying to himself and to Five. Diego was checking for lumps, or at least a reaction if he hit him hard enough. The lumps weren’t in yet but his back was already showing signs of the blood bruising, and was getting tender to all hell.

He’d done this all before, he knew what to expect, and this time would be a hell of a lot easier because of it. He didn’t need them losing their goddamn minds and crawling down his throat because Mom wasn’t here anymore and couldn’t take care of him like she would have Klaus. Five didn’t need to burden them with it either. He survived the first time, and he would again.

He made sure his door was locked before he went back to his bed and collapsed onto his stomach. He was still warm from his bath, and the last few days had been long and sleepless. He dozed off quickly, but didn’t sleep for long, carved awake as the infant growths under his skin pushed and shifted at his shoulder blades from beneath.

-

Diego was in the kitchen again when Five went down for food hours later. Luther was there too, but his gaze didn’t zero in on Five the second he appeared like Diego’s did.

“Oh look it’s the asshole who dropped me in a dumpster for offering to help.”

“Why are you still here? Don’t you have a job or something?”

“It’s my day off. Not that you would know, freeloader.”

“Child labor laws, idiot. I couldn’t get a job even if I wanted to.” Besides, he’d been pawning off some of the antiques their father had laying around so he wasn’t relying on his siblings’ wallets for luxury purchases. He mostly sold stuff out of the attic so he was sure none of them had noticed anything missing yet.

“Okay, look I just want to eat dinner in peace, please,” Luther interrupted. “Five, there’s a container for you in the fridge, I didn’t know when you’d be down for it so I stuck it in there, but it should still be hot.”

Five’s stomach growled at him at the prospect of food, smoothly digressing off the brewing spat with Diego. He turned to dig in the fridge, finding a plastic container with his name on it in Luther’s neat handwriting. If it wasn’t labeled, Klaus would eat it. He was surprisingly respectful of labeled containers, however, so Luther had gotten very anal about making sure everything of Five’s was labeled. It forced him to eat it or give it away, which then alerted one of them to the fact that he hadn’t eaten it.

A convenient monitoring system for his brothers, a pain in the ass for Five. Though, and he would never admit it, sometimes he would pop down to the kitchen whenever everyone managed to be out of the house but him, and root through his labeled containers like a raccoon with his favorite garbage. 

Five pried the lid off his container, broccoli beef with white rice. Fried foods grossed him out more than he would have liked to admit, but the only one that actually cared was Klaus, who thought it was sacrilege, but then helped himself to all of Five’s portions of the fried take-out Luther always brought home. Luther cottoned on quick and made sure to order him the white rice.

While he worked for the Commission, Five had to be careful what he ate because his stomach couldn’t handle much after so many decades living off expired canned food and whatever he could grow. That was less of a problem now, he could even drink straight milk and oil if he wanted and his young, stout little body would digest it without so much as an ounce of indigestion. No, it was the fact that Five had gone so long without salt and basic spices, that even the beef gravy mixed with the plain rice was still intensely salty to him. Oily fried foods had a taste to them that Five struggled to stomach, instincts still telling him it would make him sick.

Besides, Five could afford the luxury of being picky these days, so he would be.

“Fork,” Luther said, even as Five started throwing pieces of broccoli into his mouth with his fingers. 

Diego snorted, shaking his head before tucking back into his noodle dish. He didn’t seem inclined to keep fighting, so Five sat down at the table opposite both of them after he got himself a fork from the drawer. 

Luther waited until they were all at least halfway through their meals before he started with a casual, “So, Five, it’s been ten days since you’ve last left the house.”

Five glared at him over his dinner. So much for eating peacefully.

“You know what that means,” Diego chimed in, looking a bit too smug at Five’s instant discomfort.

“I have library books that need to be returned anyway,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“I was actually hoping we could go somewhere besides the library.”

Five frowned down at his rice, pushing it around with his fork. His stomach had instantly gone up in knots, and he wished Luther hadn’t done this over dinner. It was hard enough to eat as it was. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, it’s been over a year since you’ve been to the doctor–”

“I would need an appointment, wouldn’t I? Don’t have one as far as I know.”

Luther puffed his cheeks out and inclined his head forward and to the side like he was ashamed of something. “I didn’t want to alarm you and have you spend the whole week overthinking it.”

A numbing buzz started in the tips of his fingers and began crawling through his palms and up his arms. “You made one,” he said faintly, feeling the blood drain from his face.

Diego grimaced, eyes darting between him and Luther. “It’s alright Five, we’ll both go with you. Klaus, too if you want.”

He swallowed thickly, the room around him narrowing down to pinprick sounds and details. The buzzing of the lamps, the tick and churn of the dishwasher, the faucet that no one had gotten around to tightening up, drip drip dripping into the sink below. His brothers, just across the table from him and miles and miles away, each breath they took like thunder in his ears.

“No one has to go, just tell me where it is.”

“I have to go. I’m your legal guardian, remember?” Luther said softly.

“I’m not going.”

“Five–”

“I’m not going.” And he refused to listen to whatever reasoning they had. He wasn’t dealing with it, not right now. He sent them both one final glare each before he blinked back upstairs.

He knew he would only have a few minutes before someone was at his door, Luther rarely backed down that easily when it came to getting Five out of the house, and there was no doubt in Five’s mind that Diego had been there as backup. He stepped toward the window and reappeared on the fire escape, then again on the roof.

He wasn’t thinking about his blinks, following line of sight so he didn’t have to do so much calculation, landing his final jump in the greenhouse on the roof. The setting sun shone through the opaque walls and cast his world in a gentle peachy orange. The smell of soil and dust was familiar and warm, and allowed him to take the deep breath his lungs desperately needed.

“The fucking doctor,” he spat. “They want me to go to the doctor? Now of all fucking times!” He rolled his shoulders without thinking, flaring pain from between his shoulder blades and down his spine. There was no way, the doctor would see the bruising, would no doubt want to examine his back–

He wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his clothes tight over his spine. “No,” he told the universe, the green house, his brothers downstairs that couldn’t hear him, and the theoretical doctor he’d never met. “Absolutly not, you’re not going to touch me, not without losing some fingers; go fuck yourselves. You can go fuck yourselves!”

-

He hid in the greenhouse until well after dark. When he finally went back to his room, his door was left wide open from where Luther had no doubt come barging in looking for him. His room otherwise dark and empty, or so he thought. He closed his door before he heard the rustle of feathers on his bed, scowling into the darkness

“I didn’t yell at you earlier about it, but you’re gonna get feathers on my bed.”

The lamp at his bedside popped on, Klaus stretched out across the mattress like a cat. “I heard you didn’t want to go to the doctor.”

Five scowled all the harder. “Don’t need it, you can’t make me, I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not going to have a stranger poking and prodding me and asking me if Luther has given me the sex talk yet.”

Klaus let out a surprised wheeze of a laugh. “No, alright, that’s fair. You didn’t object this badly last time, was it really that bad?”

It really hadn’t been. The doctors who thought he was an actual thirteen year old treated him with a hell of a lot more respect than any doctor he had had the misfortune of dealing with when he worked for the Commission. “Yes,” he answered anyway.

Klaus raised an eyebrow, seeing right through him. “No, tell me what’s really going on, Five.”

[winglesswriter]

Writerly Questionaire

I was tagged by @theink-stainedfolk and @willtheweaver.Thank you, guys, this looks like fun! ❤

About Me

When did you first start writing ?

When I was about 6yo. My mom wrote down my first story about a lonely squirrel :D

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

I write the same genres as I enjoy reading

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you're often compared?

Not emulate really, but I look up to K. J. Charles, Cat Sebastian, and Ginn Hale

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

I'm currently building a new writing nook in a new apartment :D I§m looking forward to having a nice space for my writing because I used to write in my bed which is less than ideal for my back.

What's your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Inspiration usually isn't a problem. Give me some music or a picture and ideas will flow. It's much harder when it comes to finding time, energy, or motivation.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Not really.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Yes there are and yes they do :D I'm surprised how often my characters have to unlearn things and how many of them struggle with self-worth (even though that shouldn't be so surprising when I'm the one writing them)

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character?

Right now I'm pretty obsessed with Deril Hendersen. Mostly because he's new and I'm developing him, but also because he's the villain that the hero falls for and I've never written anyone like him.

Which of your characters do you think you'd be friends with in real life?

Definitely with Jan Xiaoli because he's loveable and sees the best in people. Maybe with Ikath because I tend to befriend very girly girls and they seem to be attracted by my gender nonconformity.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

Lothir because he's everything I hate. I'm afraid we would clash with Shi Saxe and Yarren because we have too much in common (we are all stubborn assholes).

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

Half of my MCs started with an image of a real person or were inspired by a different character. The other half I created as their love interests.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

Yes, they are all assholes :D I also tend to pair a slutty one with a virgin.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc

I imagined them as real people (even though some of them start from real-life inspiration they eventually get their own unique appearance) but I also like to make artwork depicting them.

My Writing

What's your reason for writing?

Uh... to shut the voices in my head? Or give them a purpose at least. Also, I think there's still not enough stories where queer people go on adventures or save the world. Especially not adult ones.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

I love all the comments. But it's especially great when readers pick up on something I thought they wouldn't

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who "gets" the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

I don't really want people to perceive me, I just want them to enjoy my stories :D But if I must choose I'd say I want them to think of me as a queer person who understands and shares queer joy.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I think my greatest strength is dialogue and making characters plausible. And I'm pretty good with pacing.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

Telling a lot in a few words, dialogues, strong characters (even the side characters), and interesting worldbuilding.

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

I know it's not very common so I almost feel ashamed to say it, but I'm proud of my writing. I'm good and I work hard to be better.

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

Yes. It would still be a great way to escape reality and entertain myself.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it's a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

I write purely what I enjoy and hope that someone else will like it too :D

Wow, that was pretty hard but now I'm interested in other people's answers so I'm tagging a lot of you! Please feel free to ignore it.

@pcm-vandermeer, @wolgerrswraith, @vinniehorrible, @sunset-a-story, @words-after-midnight

@oh-no-another-idea,  @lychhiker-writes, @wanderingcas, @tylerjflynn, @sergeantnarwhalwrites,

@buffythevampirelover, @ramwritblr, @druidx, @coffin-hopping, @author-a-holmes

[kaybreezy3000]

Dumped in a new world with no powers and abandoned by his family, Five quickly found himself in a very bad place both mentally and physically.

Piece by piece, Five tried to push away his pain and erase the proof of what had been done to him. He survived like he always did, but there's a fine line between surviving and living, and living is hardly what he could say he’d been doing with his new life.

Not until years later did Five see that nothing he had done could fix what had been broken inside of him. For that to happen, it would take another fateful rainy night and another shocking encounter that would completely turn his world upside down.

~This the first chapter (1600 words) of the full story that was originally posted on A03 6-16/2023 but was just reposted on there today to honor pride month, and because of edits done to make it fit more with what we know about the real season 4. Even if this is not your normal pairing, please give it a chance. Out of all the things I have written, this story is my favorite. You might love Five even more after reading it. ❤️_see AO3 link at bottom to read the rest.

~This one starts out very dark, so please heed the tags. It gets worse before it gets better but it's all for a reason so hang in there.

Some of the Tags (see A03 for full list): Rated M or E, attempted rape/non con, PTSD, trans female character, angst, first-time, finding yourself, revenge, unexpected romance, sub/dom, sexually explicit content/adult themes, sexual humor, overcoming tragedy. seeing yourself and others with openness and love, Five’s time travel fix-it optional finale to the show. -There are warnings on chapters so you can skip bad parts

Chapter One: Prologue

The Morning After

The heavy rains had stopped hours ago, and the sun was rising in a rosy ball of brilliance on the horizon. Five squinted against its rays as he nervously scanned his surroundings while he limped from the motel lobby, across the parking lot to his room. Due to the very early hour, there were very few people out, but he still couldn’t bring himself to let his guard down until he was out of harm’s way.

An old woman sitting on a bench in front of one of the other rooms was watching him, but she was harmless. Five could tell that she was only looking because he was too young to rent a hotel room. He was a kid, without an adult, and he was wearing an expensive three-piece suit and that wasn’t something you’d normally see in this kind of neighborhood.

She was clearly concerned, and thankfully she hadn’t been the only one to look at him in that way in the last eight hours.

Even though it had happened, Five still couldn’t wrap his head around the kindness a near stranger had shown him when his own family had deserted him. If not for the man Five had met earlier at an all-night diner, there was no saying where he’d be, or what else bad might have happened to him.

Five took one more look around him to make sure nobody was about to jump him, then he stuck his key in the door and entered the musty room.

His eyes scanned the beat-up furniture, the stained carpet, and ugly geometric patterned bedding laid out on the sagging mattress. It reminded him of the rooms The Commission put him up in.

As odd as it was, at that moment, Five wished he could go back to the simplicity of those unpleasant days.

Eat, sleep, kill people, and survive long enough to get back to save his family. That was all he had to do, and he was fine.

Now he wasn’t sure what would become of him, and he was not fine.

After checking the main area and the attached bathroom to make sure no one was hiding in there, he rushed back to the door to deadbolt the lock and fasten both security chains.

Five’s back slid down the wall behind him as his plastic bag full of cheap clothing from the drugstore slipped from his hand.

Unable to fight it anymore, he folded in on himself in a crumpled heap. He buried his head in his hands, his fingers digging into his aching skull as if he could force the pain away.

Everything hurt despite the over-the-counter pain meds he had taken, but the thing bothering him the most was the warped way he was seeing himself.

Everything inside him felt wrong.

Five’s chest began to tighten, and his heartbeat started to pound in his ears. It felt like the whole thing was hitting him all at once, assaulting him all over again.

He broke out in a cold sweat followed by hair raising goosebumps.

To his horror, he could feel the prickling sensation of hands touching him in ways they shouldn’t be.

Suffocating heat waves suddenly ripped through him. His skin felt like it was on fire and he wished so badly he could crawl out of it and his extreme shame.

As if on cue, somewhere outside sirens wailed.

To add to all this, Five could see bare and battered flesh, and those frightened eyes looking out through metal bars that were meant to detain an animal not a human. Those eyes were wordlessly asking him for help.

That person had been bound so tightly and was in such bad condition that Five could hardly believe they were alive still. The sight of someone so young like that in that place was so wrong, just like what had just been done to him.

Five wasn’t doing well before seeing that caged boy, and after finding him, Five’s shocked state only got worse.

He could hear the blaring sound of the law getting closer and he had to go.

He didn’t even attempt to break the boy free. He had heard everything that happened to him and he'd seen him, but he evidently chose not to reveal any of that to the police. 

That stranger had protected him.

With gut-wrenching guilt overwhelming him, for about the millionth time in the last twelve hours, Five couldn’t catch his breath.

On the floor of his motel room, Five's voice came out so weak. “I didn’t have a choice,” he whimpered, pleading with that boy he had let down to forgive him even though he was all alone. 

He shut his eyes again. That sorrowful face was gone but the unwelcome hands were back.

“Please, no. Not this. Anything but this,” Five begged, in a fruitless effort to stop his own mind from tormenting him.

Soon he was bombarded with ghosts of laughter mixed in with a steady song of his own desperate cries. 

As strong as Five’s mental fortitude had been all his years, at that point, he couldn’t shake his hallucinations or silence the voices, no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes closed or pressed his hands over his ears.

Five could feel himself being physically crushed all over again as he was mercilessly held down.

“Stop,” he breathed over and over, trying to force the hands away, but all that resulted was a broken man in a boy’s broken body falling apart in the shadows of a rent by the hour motel room.

When Five's mental breakdown finally subsided enough for him to somewhat function again, he pulled his stolen pistol free from where he still had it tucked in the back of his dress pants. As he bound his arms around his thin legs, he gripped the weapon tightly in his shaking hands, like it could protect him from the blind panic that was threatening to pull him under.

Five's dark hair spilled over his boney knees as he rested his forehead on them. Silent tears ran like a river down his cheeks.

He kept telling himself that things could have been worse. The mystery person he had left behind didn’t know who he was, and they would never see each other again. That boy was still alive thanks to him and if he hadn’t come along, they probably wouldn’t be.

At least Five could say that.

As if by some miracle, now he had a very fragile feeling of safety thanks to the money in his pocket and the motel room to hide in. Letting those somewhat positive facts sink in started to help slow his breathing, but soon Five began to beat himself up for screwing up so badly to begin with.

“Just knock it off! You may look like a child, but you really are a worthless fuckwit if you can't pull yourself together enough to stop acting like one. You are fucked up. What else is new!” he babbled, having a conversation with himself that mirrored many he’d had over his life while in times of skirting the edge of madness.

It took Five awhile to stop his internal beratement, and to stem his flow of burning tears, but he did. He was on the verge of mental and physical collapse, but he forced himself to get up. Driven by inborn stubbornness and venomous hatred, he tried to focus on the very odd conversation he had in the diner with the older stranger that had become his unlikely savior.

With somewhat of a plan forming in his head, one that involved going back to the diner the next night to meet up with his new acquaintance, Five’s motions were unfocused and zombie-like as he stumbled to the bathroom and started looking over his many injuries.

Angry red lines and purple bruises painted his thighs. As bad as he looked, there was no forgetting that every inch of flesh on that boy he saw tied up in that cage looked so much worse.

Trying not to lose it again, Five began to clean his wounds with supplies he purchased at the pharmacy. Then he showered, scrubbing his pale skin until it was an angry cherry red, but he couldn’t stop because the longer he abused his own flesh, the more a new form of numbness settled inside of him, acting like a buffer to drown out his sickening levels of shame.

Redressed in simple black sweats, a white t-shirt, and a zip-up sweatshirt, Five set about taking care of the pile of his dirty clothes on the floor. With repulsive thoughts coming back, he quickly tossed the underwear he had been wearing in the garbage. Then he washed his dress shirt in the sink and did his best to freshen his suit by hanging it up.

In a basket on the small dresser, he found a comb, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and even a travel sewing kit. Almost too tired to see straight, he yanked the snarls out of his hair and brushed his teeth. Lastly, he sat down on the hard bed and restitched the metal clip inside his fitted pants so that it would stay latched, and his pants wouldn't fall down. Then he added a top button to replace the one that was torn off when his pants were forcefully yanked down. 

Piece by piece, Five had tried to erase the proof of what had been done to him, but not until years later did he fully gather that nothing he had done then, or in the years to come, was ever going to be enough to fix what had been broken inside of him. For that to happen, it would take another fateful rainy night and another shocking encounter that would completely turn his world upside down.

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To read on, hit link: 'No More the Victim'

This one is a great piece of art, but Not mine...still, so perfectly dark and sad and perfect for this first chapter, so when it was sent to me to go with the story, I had to include it.

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[ambrosia-ghostie]

i am so upset.

here are my real-time thoughts from tua series finale, i guess:

- is gun control not a thing in this timeline? jeez

- i don’t even know where i’d get a gun lmao

- this is giving MAGA… yikes

- i love meghan so much. national treasure. AND she can sing. EGOT, please.

- lila isn’t the only one hiding stuff from her husband 👀

- diego talking about lila with a new lease on life 🥺

- awh this is very “it’s a wonderful life”

- lila’s family is fab. the spinoff we need.

- i love how many actors get to perform as other actors performing another role on this show

- the whistle !!! call him out dr. jean !!!

- THAT WAS SO UNNECESSARY

- dr. jean deserved better !!! 😭

- i love the fast food lady (featured extra). she understood the assignment.

- “it smells so nice in here!” why are me and klaus the same person but completely different?

- call back to viktor drawing the umbrella tattoo as a kid !!!

- holy shit, ben is the fly

- body horror is so cool

- oh hey! they’re seeing each other and it’s neither a wedding nor a funeral

- klaus still eating because he deserves it - just give him all the nourishment, please

- why do they always wait to tell each other the most important thing ??? one brain cell - i stg

- “not during christmas” - oh, diego. for those of us with chaotic families, it’s always on christmas

- klaus scooping up five’s empty seat is such big family/sibling energy

- “i didn’t see that one coming!” klaus, luther, and allison look just as confused as i still am

- THIS IS SO WEIRD AND RANDOM

- LITTLE GRACE NOOOO

- time travel is wild. five was right in s1 - i am not smart enough for it.

- “do you love him?” 🥺

- cronenberg would love this. i wonder how much of the virus effect is practical vs. cgi

- klaus’s clothes make a lot more sense for the final showdown since he probably borrowed from one of lila’s relatives

- luther’s borrowed clothing is a bit too luther to be believably borrowed tho

- this is my favorite van 🚐 set piece since little miss sunshine

- allison pulling the emergency brake is the ultimate mom arm 💪

- i too, like five, always end up in the subway (as a new yorker)

- oh shit, i just realized that no one probably told klaus how ben really died - ugh

- but, you know what, allison probably didn’t want to overwhelm the poor guy with more trauma so i’ll let the lack of communication slide this time

- “i can fly now! oh it hurts”

- aim for the tanks… like jaws… the… 🦈 ?

- sigh, five and diego beef is just really not necessary - i’m annoyed

- “my hand is stuck in its ass” !!!

- FIVE AND DIEGO STOP THIS NONSENSE

- WHO CARES ??? this romance is not that important, dude. you’ve been trying to save your family for decades, my guy 😭

- oh damn - is five going to find the right subway station now?

- if they all forget everything like fucking dorothy in kansas, i’m going to be so mad

- holy shit - PET CEMETARY, but like PET SEMETERY !!! you can’t bring someone back, not really… that’s the show 😭

- netflix loves their stephen king

- this is also the lesson in 11/22/63… JFK… yeah

- i could write a thesis on this rn

- we got our coffee shop AU ?!?!

- can i be “cheesecake five”?

- oh… oh no

- THE COMMISSION! THE FOUNDER! AHHHH

- no no no

- don’t make my children not exist 😭

- THIS ISN’T WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR

- i’m sobbing… out of hurt and anger, tbh

- the children/family are on the lifeboats 💔

….

….

…

i’m not going to be ok for a while

klaus didn’t find out how ben died ???

wouldn’t ghost ben have been able to tell him ???

they really did borrow from stephen king because the alien reginald plot was pointless (i’m looking at you, under the dome)

all in all, i’m glad i got to spend time with these characters… we could have gotten even fewer seasons based on how netflix operates. but this ending could have been written/executed so much better.

i would have even smiled if the last scene was with everyone in the void. but no. we get the original ending of the little mermaid with the marigolds instead of sea foam 😫

there were parts of it i did like - especially the cleanse - but i feel like we all deserved better…

i dedicate this post to the memory of dave, sissy, ray, and every other beautiful character who ultimately became disposable. 💔

[echoedcrosshairs]

The Portrait ~ Boba x F Reader

Plot: You, a daughter of a former bounty captured by Boba Fett, are asked to paint a portrait of the new Daimyo although you despise him you can't help notice the growing tension. 🖤Enemies to Lovers 🖤

Warnings: second person narration, no y/n, suggestive sexual content, age gap (reader is mid-twenties, Boba is 41 canonically), lots of petnames (Little one & Old Man), praise kink, one dude being a creep but nothing bad happens; protective Boba moment~> violence, Enemies to lover & sort of slow burn and eventual smut. This is a build up chapter.

Word Count: 6.7k

Masterlist Part Two

🔞no minors allowed🔞

Yes I know I need to go through all of my stories because small typos.

Boba sat in a darkest corner booth of the cantina waiting for his prospect to arrive but something was bugging him about her name it sounded familiar but he couldn’t place where he’d heard it. He had arrived early to avoid being noticed by the crowds who came in during rush hour as Daimyo every knew his face and who he was but he wasn’t in the mood to be bowed at. He had his shawl covering his armor and his helmet tucked in beside him, knowing it’s shine would make him stand out. He brought his drink to his lips letting his eyes wandered to one of the dancers, although she was gorgeous but not gorgeous enough to distracted him with her curves and elegance to notice the prospect walking over. He blinked admiring the features in your face and the way your hips swayed as you walked towards him. He knew the confidence of female hunter when he saw it, alluring yet on the prowl. He let his eyes travel along the entire noting all of the empty concealed pockets.

"Do you two need a minute?" you laughed sitting down looking between him and the dancer, "I would hate to come between a hunter and his prey. She is rather pretty"

"I admire. Nothing more," he said curtly not liking the fact you noticed what he tried to hide, "I am retired," he added, “and to old to be chasing such beautiful creatures.”

"Once a hunter always a hunter. All you traded was one type of bounty for another just with less stakes but that's semantics," you said dismissing it.

Boba studied you carefully curious to what would compel you to so bold and brazen with him, "I take it you are not found of how I run this town?" he asked simply not letting any emotion or interest pace his course rough.

"No your rule is not one with an iron fist nor disappearing villagers in the dead of night or making examples out of petty things. I just do not care for you," you said pulling out your dust covered sketch book flipping the page of him taking away your father and your father's imprisonment in stone, "Getting to the subject. All supplies must be paid for up front, the entire can change once I started however you’re still wearing the same thing so I don’t think that matters and point me in the direction of the nearest lodging. I can begin as soon as the supplies arrive," you said closing the sketch book and returning it to your bag. Your eyes caught swift movement of hands of the person bringing both of you drinks, quickly pulling out the blaster out of your art bag dispatching one fatal shot you caught the tray with the drinks and dumped them both into a flower vase watching them quickly wilt. That’s what I thought, I need this try again later. You sat back down putting the blaster away, "What?" said noticing him staring at you.

"You loathe me yet saved my life, interesting" he said studying the expression on your face, "with such tenacity and efficiency."

"I may have talents outside of painting. I would hate to lose such an important commission before it was complete."

"Indeed," he said finally blinking looking at the corpse being dragged away, "stay at the palace, plenty of food and rooms to choose from," he offered.

"I'll take whatever room is furtherest from you," you grinned pulled the pad with the out the list of supplies and upgrades handing it to him. His leather glove brushing against your hand taking it, it sent a cold shiver up your arm like you just touch death.

"Consider it yours, I'll send someone to pick up all of these premiums," he said in attempt to ignore the fact brushing up against your finger set a jolt of something down him. Fear? Anticipation? She's a daughter of a former bounty and I just invited danger into my house. He stuck out the pad, Fennec taking it from whatever spot she was hiding.

"I should have most of these by sunrise, one or two might take a few extra hours," she said nodding walking off with the pad.

"I know my way to the palace," you said standing up eyeing the women he was looking at earlier, "Enjoy yourself for a change," you let out a small harsh laugh, "Try not to get killed until the commission is completed."

You walked away pretending not to be in a hurry about your heart was racing and your hands were clammy just being around him. He was a dangerous man with a temper for disintegration and being ruthless with how audacious and brash you were talking to him wondered if he had the mind to disintegrate you. What was I thinking? He's a client at this moment, nothing more. Your mind wandered back to that night when he took your father and showed him off to you in carbonite. Your fist balled but you kept walking, you had half the mind just to get off this sand ball but the other half wanted the money and the recognition for something other than the fine marksman the ire had turn you into too. Now he was an aging man, ‘retired’ and you didn't know if it would be worth it if he wasn’t in the game. Yet the muscles in his arms and the coldness in his face suggested he was still ever bit the predator... one who had a disgustingly charming gravel voice and it set a shiver down your spine.

"Are you sure this isn't a conflict of interest, little one?" You heard Boba's voice emerge next to you.

"Being in the same persec as you is a conflict of interest but this is business as you well understand," you couldn't help but notice the annoyance seeping out over his company, although the sound of his voice was better then silence. You didn't bother look at him as you kept walking, "Also don't call me that, I'm not little nor a child," you added.

"Why take the commission?" He asked finally letting his curiosity get the best of him.

"It's you I have to thank for my talents whether it's through a paintbrush or a blaster." you said harshly still not bothering to look at him.

"You could just take the money and go-"

"We both know there's no honor in that, although I don’t think I would ever consider you honorable," your tempter starting getting the best of you, you finally stopped and stared at the T visor helmet forever engrained into your memory, "I am here because I have to prove to myself you are nothing then a man to not some assassin droid in the shadows without a thought or care."

You watched him stand still for a moment before putting his hands clasp behind his back, "You speak your mind without thought of the repercussions or hesitation, I respect that," he said starting to walk again, "I even admire it."

Your lip twitched but you followed after him in silence. You kept nonchalantly wiping your hands on your pants, feeling like an angry fool living in the past but you liked the praise from him sending goose bumps down you.!What the hell is wrong with me? It was a silent trek to the palace after that, thankful you didn't continue making a fool of yourself publicly speaking to him like that in view of those still up at this hour. The doors of the palace swung up, you walked in not bothering to wait for an invitation which was custom on Tatooine.

"Still want the furthest room or do you want to face that fear too," you could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Just point me to an available room and show me the location."

Boba lead you to a long hall way more adorned with fineries then the others. He pointed to the door on the left, "Yours," he pointed to the door on the right, "Mine. This way," he said turning back heading towards the throne room.

You scowled following after him realizing where he was taking you, "Of course it's the throne, how pretentious," you mumbled sarcastically taking out the sketch pad.

"Do you have a better idea?" Boba said stopping mid step turning to you, "you are the artist after all, where would you choose in my position."

"Each previous Daimyo has had his done on the throne using it as display of power and fear. If I wanted to prove my rule was different, I would do mine somewhere to show who I am underneath."

He nodded, "Have you ever seen the Tusken huts?"

You were taken back by the question, "Not up close, no."

"Wish to take the Rancor for a run or a speeder?" he asked.

"Rancor," you said stepping up to his obvious challenge to test your nerves further, "It's been a while since I've been on one."

"Let's see if he's awake. So you've ridden one before?" He asked calmly but intrigued.

"Once or twice," you said opting to give the least amount of information knowing he was digging.

Boba smiled knowing it could not be seen, "The riding boots your wearing covered with your pants suggest other wise," he said done playing coy that he didn't notice the little things, "one of your many talents I assume?"

"Perhaps," you trying to keep the irritation out of your voice glancing down at your foot wear that you didn't bother to change when you were done, "or perhaps I wear them because their comfortable and made to take a beating. Perfect for function, comfort and a sleek appearance."

"I'm sure they are, little one," he chuckled watching your face force smoothness on it. He couldn't deny he was interested in you in more ways then one, you were beautiful, complexed and smart but perhaps just as dangerous and unpredictable as he was at that age regretting putting your room so close to his if you had the urge in the dead of the night to unleash vengeance upon him, "How about a bargain?" he asked.

"What are you proposing?" you asked crossing your arms following him into the throne room looking down into the pit.

"Every day you get to ask me one personal question until the portrait is completed."

"What do you get out of it?" You asked because it sounded like you were getting the better end of the deal.

"Hopefully not feed to my rancor in the middle of the night," he said with laugh, the sound made you blink. It was warm and kind, rough like his voice but it reminded you of a shot of whiskey after a long day. He watched your face falter for a second after his laughter, raising an eyebrow.

"Did you enjoy rubbing my fathers fate in my face?" You said boldly, looking down at the sleeping rancor.

"No however I hoped it would prevent you from going down the same path."

"What path would that be?" You asked tartly looking back up at him feeling his eyes linger on you.

"One without the need to follow in his shoes"

You studied him as he studied you, "Funny," you mused.

"Indeed," Boba said realizing it was what set you on this path. He lightly tapping the bars to see if the Rancor would wake but it's soft snores he was out for the evening, "A speeder it is."

"Did you ever find him?" He ask heading towards the main doors.

"What was left of him to find."

"I'm sorry."

Those two words hit a nerve but also shocked you. Your mouth fell agape but you shut it not knowing what to say to the statement, the man who turned your life on it's head... apologizing? You followed him outside to the one speeder realizing you were going to have to share. You wandered if you both were thinking the same thing, how easy it would be to toss each other off.

"I'll ride in the front," he said giving you the upper hand waiting to see what you would do.

"I'm personally holding you accountable if I get hurt due to your driving, old man," you jested trying to hide the anxiousness of climbing on behind him having to hold his waist.

"Then you better hold on, little one. I'm not that old."

"Are you sure about-" you shut your mouth holding him tighter as he took off full speed towards the Dune Sea. You felt the chiseled muscle under his clothing, red subconsciously warmth spreading across your face. It made you sick that you had a reaction to him, the lingering smell of leather, blaster smoke and sweat didn't help. You tighten your jaw reminding yourself of the monster you were clinging too as he enjoyed riding the waves of the sand.

"Having fun?" He chuckled feeling your cheek burning into his back and your arms tighten around him as he took another bigger sand dune. It took a lot of self restraint not to move his hand to yours and tease you but knew you’d probably shoot him if he did.

"Extremely," you said sarcastically thanking the maker when he stopped so you could let go and hop off.

Boba watched you quickly take out your pad to engulfed in your work to notice the approaching Tusken's. The Tusken's recognized him, signing his name. He nodded to them in greeting and preceded to explain why they were out this late, that he would send them food as payment for the disturbance.

"They want to see," Boba said pointing at them.

His voice pulled you out of the composition of art to notice the raiders standing next to him. You gulped, you were not fan of the Tusken's for their violent nature towards outsiders and it didn’t help that the Daimyo was very comfortable around them. You carefully walked towards them showing them the sketch of the hut. They made a noise and you looked to Boba raising an eyebrow.

"Their impressed."

"Thank you," you said nodding your head, they handed you the pad back allowing you to walk back to the spot and continued your art.

"Tribe?" the Tusken signed looking between the two of you

"No, Business."

The Tusken nodded signal for him and his companions to leave. Boba walked over looking of your shoulder watching the hunt come together with the rough sketch of the Tusken in the foreground.

"Done?" He asked watching you look at the pad then up then back down.

"Yes."

"Let's get back to the palace, it's getting late and creatures should be waking up," he said climbing back into the speeder feeing your arms go around his waist again but this time he didn't feel your hands as sweaty against him.

When you both arrived at the palace, Fennec was waiting different sizes canvas. Boba picked a medium sized one, modest yet large enough to be noticed. Fennec kept her eyes on you the whole time.

"Do you want me to have guards outside?" she whispered wondering if you could be trusted.

"Just one discreetly at the top of the hall if it put your mind at ease."

She gave a small nod, "What you think of her?" she asked quietly watching you pull out your sketch pad looking over your work.

Boba just slightly turned his head not to make it obvious, "One of a kind."

Fennec rolled her eyes, "Friend or foe?" she corrected.

"Both," he admitted, "Good Night," he said to Fennec raising his voice back up from a whisper.

You cocked your head to see him heading back inside, you followed after him sketching out a simple speedy portrait of his face. You caught up to him and knocked on his helmet, he turned catching your wrist pulling it away.

"Helmet off," you said pulling your wrist back.

"So bossy, little one."

"So deaf, take it off old man," you said bringing your pencil back to the pad waiting,

He took it off, you examined the lines in his face quickly sketching them out. You were to distracted with the lines to notice his brown eyes boring into you. You were raptured in artist inspiration staring at him, your hands moving seamlessly across the paper noting every healed scar and various shades of brown to gold in his eyes. You finally looked down red creeping back into your face as you sketched his shoulders and the top of his armor.

He looked down at the paper stunned, "May I?" he asked holding out his hand. You stared at what was probably your best rough sketch but handed it to him. "It's absolutely marvelous," he said examining it closing looking at ever scar and remembering the cause to each one, "Your marvelous," he unintentionally whispered.

"I know," you said grabbing the sketch back and walking towards the hall with the bedrooms, flushed and angry. You noticed the bags that you tucked away at the Cantina you were going to go back to retrieve were sitting the end of the bed waiting. You groaned tossing your art bag on the bed and setting the pad on a big wooden ornate vanity. You unpacked the essential clothing you needed and various toiletries. Your head was swimming and knew you couldn't sleep, you grabbed your toilets stepping into the hall. Your face flicked up when you heard footsteps, a single guard walking a catwalk above.

"Where's the bathroom?" You asked watching him walk to the end of the hall and point at a door. He spoke a language you didn't understand, "Thank you! I think,” you called.

You opened the door, staring at Boba in a towel around his waist water still trickling down his pecs and abs. You quickly pulled the door shut, "That didn't just happen."

Your hand quickly shot up to your eyes when you heard the door immediately open "I'm sorry he doesn't speak basic," you said trying to defend yourself.

"Unfortunately it did. Dank Farrik! Next time I'm going to shoot you in the knee cap! I could have still been in the crinking shower!" He called up the guard who was laughing suddenly stilled. He noticed your hand over your eyes, "I'm not that bad to look at," he laughed, "I was just leaving," he said stepping around you, "I'll have them come in and fix the other one tomorrow promptly."

You uncovered your eyes for a moment watching his muscular back as he headed towards his room before quickly getting into the bathroom and shutting the door realizing there wasn't a lock on it. I seriously can't believe that happened. You turned the water up to match how hot your face was. You discarded your clothing, neatly putting them on the what looked to be hand carved precious stone counter. You ran your hand across it, still cool. Maker that had to cost which ever Daimyo a fortune. You shook your head and stepped into the shower hoping the heat would wash away the embarrassment. After spending a fair amount of time scolding yourself clearing your head you stepped out and noticed a couple of credits with a note on your clothing.

"It didn't happen -Fett."

You stared at the forty thousand credits your mouth fell open. I need the money but no way I can accept this much, I'll just slip part of it into his room or something. You quickly got dressed and peaked your head out the door to see if he was there, you breathed out in relief. You groaned the moment you got to your room noticing the small fruit assortment on your bed. I don't know if I'm more embarrassed or he is. You moved the fruit to the vanity and crawled into bed, you laid awake into the night before finally prying yourself up deciding fresh air might help you get situated with your temporary reality. You tucked your blaster in your waist band and found your way to a balcony overlooking the city.

"You too?" you heard Boba's voice behind you.

"Yeah. Are any of the cantinas still open this late?"

"One, you want to go?" he asked.

"I need a drink... or five if I'm going to be sleeping in the room across from you," you admitted.

"Likewise."

Both of you quietly walked into your rooms and changed. You dawned a form fitting dress with a side holster and boots with hidden knife pockets. You opened the door and found him waiting with holding his helmet.

He did his best to keep a straight face over the entire, "Expecting company?" He said pointy looking at the blaster as an excuse to look at your figure before looking back up at you.

"Always except the unexpected, that's how you stay alive in this line a work," you said as you started walking.

"Which is our problem," he said following after you.

"Another bargain perhaps?"

"You don't trust me and I don't trust you, I could simply move into lodging like I wanted too or we could drag the other bed into the others room so we can at least hear it coming," your throat dried up, “because I can’t think of a reason why I would want to trust you. You can only out run your past so long before it catches up.”

"What ever your comfort with, little one-" Boba stopped looking at your dress and then speedier.

"Dank Farrik," you mumbled motioning him to get on, hiking up your dress an indecent amount throwing your leg over it, "Why can't they just make flattering dresses with pants?" mumbled uncomfortably exposed to him.

"You now have plenty enough to get some tailored to your design," he suggested.

"I can't accept all of them for something so little, not even for this predicament," you said, "Got a problem or something that my skills can be used for?"

"I'm sure I can think of something."

He let you get off the speeder first to adjust your dress before getting off himself. You both kept each other arms lengths apart. Heat rose to your face thinking about how close his back had been between your legs. You did not and would not like this man. Eyes on the prize, finish this commission and get the creds then get hell away from this monster. No Boba Fett is a man, this commission is to prove that. He's not the boogie man, at least not any more.

He opened a door letting you go in first, the cantina nearly empty except for a few stragglers. He watched them eye you then back at him with a nod of respect. You walked up to the bar hoping he wasn't going to follow you. You noticed him hovering the door and you smirked.

You slide in the stool seat, "Whiskey, double," you told the bar droid, who dropped a shot glass in front of you and poured it. You slammed it back and tapped for another.

"I'd hate to see you on a bad day," Boba laughed joining her after eyeing everyone again to see if any one was going to make a move. Given most of the men in here were older then him he was pretty confident that no one going to given she also came in here with the Daimyo.

"This?" You said lifting the third shot, "is barely the appetizer for today."

"The same, sir?" The droid asked him.

"Yes."

Both of you sat in silence, while Boba caught up on the shots. He watched you down a couple more, the tipsiness finally started to show. The warm glow of alcohol spread across your face, wondering if you always looked just as a beautiful regardless.

"Might want to slow down, little one," he said eyeing her twitch trying to focus, "You don't look like it would be a fair fight." He watched her pull out a blaster and bull-eye a painting on the wall. He tossed some credits to the droid as an apology, "How did you get so good?" He asked wondering if the circumstances were different he if he could convince you to stay.

"Practicing praying one day I would get a chance to kill you and everyone else associated with my father," you admitted, "I looked for you in every shadow praying and our paths would cross.. then you fell into the Sarlacc a few orbitals ago. I realized if I could not kill you... I could kill the idea of you and prove you don't have to have Fett running in your veins to be good." You felt the few horrified gawking stares at the disrespect and contempt laced words coming out of your mouth. The whiskey had loosened your lips a little further then you intended, "That that counts as your one personal question of the day."

"I do also get one personal question?" He asked taking his last shot knowing he was going to have to drive both of you back.

"It's only fair," you said sliding the shot glass back to the droid, "done." You said cutting yourself off knowing your mouth was only going to get worse. "I may have had to many." You admitted.

You stared into Boba's eyes, counting the shades but the slight double vision made it difficult, "five or six" you muttered pulling your eyes away, "color shades in your eyes. Can't tell right now."

"You're drunk," he laughed, "let's go home, little one."

"Stop calling me that, old man."

Boba scooped you up and put you over his arm like a nap sack, "That's enough out of you." He tried setting you down realizing you were asleep. He carefully set you in his lap holding you with a vice grip as he drove one handed back to the palace. He saw Fennec doing her patrol and shook his head carrying you inside and setting you on his bed. He looked at you debating if he wanted to have Fennec come in and change you but doubted she'd be there right when you woke up to explain. He carefully pulled off the blaster and set it besides you. He grabbed a bantha hide and curled up on his armoire couch, looking at you more time wondering the type of person you were under all of that hurt.

You felt the sun shining in your eyes, Wait my room is opposite of the sun, you took in your surroundings the various artwork on the walls and target practice posters. Fett’s room? You looked over and saw the closet still open with several flight suits. Your head was pounding but you got up feeling for your blaster finding it laying next to you. At least I’m still in my dress. You scurried back to your room munching down some of the fruit arrangement and black melon which helped. You opted for pants discarding all of the dresses back into your bags, Never again. You tapped on the refresher door when there was no reply you opened the door and quickly did your business. Leaving the refresher you found Fennec standing outside your bedroom door.

“Good morning,” you offered opening the door letting her in.

“All of the supplies are in a work room for you, along with food, one hall over with the blue door.”

“Thank you,” you said still trying to dry your hair, “You guys wouldn’t happen to have a shooting range or something?” You asked noticing the rifle slung on her back.

“Two halls over down the stairs behind the orange door.”

“Thank you again,” you said putting the towel around your shoulders.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“No. I don’t know why either of you would need me for anything but if I’m not in this room or the work room, you’ll probably find me in the range.”

She nodded quietly backing out of the room, Friend or Foe? rung through her head. The exchange had been minimal but she didn’t see a gundark waiting to strike which alarmed her further. I’m a good judge of character, but I still can’t answer that question.

Fennec found Boba sitting on the throne, “How was your patrol?”

“A couple hooligans needed a stern talking too, that’s all.”

“She’s awake. She’s been informed the supplies have arrived and where her work room is, inquiring if we hand a range and I told her where to find it.”

“Good.”

“Is something on your mind Boba?” Fennec said noticing the short answers.

“Thinking about something she said. Wondering if my past has caught to me and if this is my undoing.”

“I can get more guards-”

“That won’t stop someone on our level. She no longer seems to want revenge, old man,” he said shaking his head “I want to know what she really wants with the commission.”

“Have you tried asking?” she suggested half heartedly.

“No but that would be my personal question of the day,” he muttered getting up to head to the work room, “summon me when our guest arrive.”

Fennec arched an eyebrow but nodded. You had various sketch pads out using them to sketch quick ideas how the portrait should look using various compositions with shadow and foreground and background ideas along with one or two the rancor was in too.

“Come see what you think” you asked hearing the door open, you looked back to see you were correct that it was him.

“That one.”

“Consider it yours.” You smirked throwing the sentence back at him, tearing the other ones out and set them to the side to dispose of later, “Is there something I can help you with?” you noticing him not leaving.

“What do you have so much riding on this commission?” He asked.

“Pride.”

“That isn’t much an answer.”

“Does it count as your personal question of the day?”

“No.”

“Than that’s the answer you’re going to have to live with,” you said eying him taking a seat.

You don’t know how long it had been until Fennec stuck her head in, “Daiymo, they have arrived.”

Boba excused himself to leave you to your art. The next few days where like that. Quiet. Every day his chair got a little closer until he was sitting next to you. Time to time he would stop to ask you questions about art, your favorite things to draw and other various things about you biding time for you to ask him question. It was a nice little routine as much as you despised him it became to comfortable. You eventually took to sleeping during day and working on the piece during the night as an excuse not to have to see him. You missed the company but every morning Fennec joined you at the range. It was small talk mostly but it helped dull the loneliness. Fennec left earlier this morning to go take care of an errand, leaving you alone in this big palace. Given some of the guards didn’t speak beside your only reprieve was the animal in the pit. You found your way to the Rancor kneeling before it, offering it a large slab of meat staying in routine of the past couple days. You smiled as the Rancor finally accepted your status as below him.

“Where is she? She’s not in her room or painting,” you heard Boba say concerned, stifling your laughter.

“She hasn’t left the palace-” Fennec said looking down hearing you.

“Someone’s losing their touch, old man. You know I ride yet you didn’t look down?” You huffed disappointment, finally getting to scratch the Rancor’s cheek, “I don’t recommend putting leash on me however, I bite.”

“I can’t even pet him,” Fennec said staring, “and I live here,” she muttered.

“Rancor respond to a social hierarchy and as I have no interest in staying, I made sure he knew he was the boss of me. Unlike me, Fennec you scream predator which is why he doesn’t respond to you. You have to be both hunter and prey,” you said standing up and wiping the dirt off your butt, “being a one sided blade only gets you so far, it’s those who are two that survive.”

Boba looked at you noticing how seamless the Mandalorian philosophy rolled off your tongue with such an easy explanation. Boba eyes trailed after you pinning. He was use to every woman throwing themselves at him having his selection of whatever fascinated him that evening. Even as Daimyo women fanned over his power and wealth having to let down several mothers trying to sell off their daughters to him.

“Well, I got my painting in for the evening so I had to wait for that to dry. I’m going to go the Cantina before going to bed,” you stared at the paint you missed on your foreheads and elbows, “after I apparently shower. Again,” you groaned walking off grumbling about paint and how it always ends up in weird places.

“You like her don’t you?” Fennec asked smiling watching his eyes trail after her, “Old man,” she said wiggling her eyebrows, “You’ve killed people for less.”

“She… reminds me of another time. I think I’ll accompany her discreetly. No need to follow.”

You shower daring to wear a flowing dresses with two discreet slide slits that overlapped to hide the thigh holsters, “At least I can ride a speeder in this.” You found Boba standing outside the door waiting. His molten gazing temporarily holding you in place, “I figured I’d give you a ride.”

“I am quite capable of getting there on my own,” you said inserting your independence staring back at him.

“You are… quiet the capable woman,” he said noting the heighten chemistry today, “but I need the speeder today.”

You looked at this features feeling sick about how in depth you studied every scar, crease, shape of his nose and the depths of his skin, “Fine, let’s go,” you said looking away first, “but I’m driving, can’t risk crashing in this dress,” you said doing the best to ignore the tension that has been slowly building since you met him and the playful banter he allowed you to get away with. Just awhile longer.

He waved his arm forward, “Lead the way.”

“You haven’t asked your question today,” you asked glancing him.

“I’m sure it will come to me before you go to bed. You haven’t either.”

“I’ll let you know when I have one,” you said tossing your legs over the speeder realizing this was the worse idea you ever had but you didn’t want to have to explain changing your mind. You felt him climb on, you took a quick silent intake of air when you felt his cod piece nuzzled up to your ass. He gently wrapped his arms around you placing each hand on your hip. You bit your lip and turned on the speeder taking it near full speed to the bustling cantina. Boba was like the sun of Tatooine pressing against your back and his gloves pressing you where felt like heaven wishing you could take them for your self. Getting off the speedier for a split second you could feel the cod piece rub against your ass. I need some company because that isn’t happening.

“Take this,” he said tossing you a device, “Call me when your ready to get picked up,” although I don’t intend to let you be here alone. Boba took the speeder around giving it the appearance that he left before letting himself inside through the side door. His eyes spotting you at the counter with a shot in hand. You took himself to an empty booth a distance away tucking away his helmet and covering his armor to blend in. The droid brought him over a drink when he saw a man slide into the stool next to you. Boba blinked because the man was about his age. Anger starting boiling over when he saw him put hand on your leg watching you light up and smile at him.

“What is a goddess like you doing in a temple like this at this hour?” the man asked.

You smiled at the comment, “Hopefully enjoying some company for a bit,” you dared, watching him put his hand on your leg.

“I don’t mind keeping you company,” he said ordering to drinks.

He’s no Boba Fett, but he’s still cute to look at. You mentally scolded yourself for thinking such thing. Both of you chatted the conversation coming easy, there was no playing coy or calculated responses it made you miss having company because Fennec and Boba weren’t quiet conversationalist. You felt eyes at the back of your neck, you scowled for a second realizing it was probably Fennec keeping an eye on you or someone under here.

“What is it?” He asked concerned.

“Oh it’s nothing, I lost my train of thought.”

Boba watched every action his jaw setting tighter and tighter. He watched as the man leaned in kissed her. Boba’s gripping on the shot glass caused it to break. Your head turned again and you saw broken glass but not the person sitting in the shadows. Just a coincidence. Right as you started to lean back in you saw him pulling his hand away from your drink and a whipcord shoot out dragging him to the dark booth.

“Bantha Fodder,” you heard the growl from a familiar gravel sounding man, watching him step out in the shadows.

“Caraya’s Soul Fett! For kriff’s sake,” your blood ran cold for a moment staring at the helmet the man wired on the ground before taking out the blaster and shooting the man, “I get it he was going to drug me, but did you really have to stalk me? I could have handled it on my way,” you said putting the blaster away and getting in his face. You stuck your finger on his chest and gave him a small push, “I don’t need to be babysat let alone by you of all people.”

Boba looked down shot him again watching him disintegrate into dust, “You were saying?”

“I guess we’re even now,” you huffed pulling your finger off him watching retract the wire and putting his arms in front him. “I’m going to a different cantina, this time don’t follow me.”

You tossed a couple creds down on the table and leaving hearing his foot steps behind you and the heat from his gaze boring into the back of your back. You whirled around to find him standing there with his hands still in front him.

“I said don’t follow me,” you watched him talk a few steps towards you standing face to face, face to helmet.

“I am the Daimyo, I go where I want.”

“That is exactly why I don’t want you here! No one will talk to me or even look at me when your around. You know what it’s like to sit in silence alone for hours! I hate it.”

“Why don’t you talk to me?” he taking off his helmet, stepping forward pinning you in place with his gaze.

You saw the dilation in his eyes and his uneven breathing, “That’s why.” Feeling heat rush through you and your legs stared feeling like jello under his gaze. You could felt the heat go to your head, your mind emptying but conflicted if you want to kiss him or kiss him your knuckles. You knew your eyes had the same hazy expression thinking about when you found him in the towel, the water and muscle. You weakly stepped back ripping your eyes off of him, dizzily turning around trying to your legs under you. “This is business,” you said finally getting them moving, “Get a concubine or something,” you snipped, “isn’t that what Daimyo’s do.”

“I don’t want one” you heard him whisper.

“I don’t want you too either,” you gritted out not hearing foot steps behind you.