#one day i will get to draw more. and write more. and have time for things ;_;

[split-spectrum]

YOU'VE GOT TO LEARN

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Tags: extremely dubious consent, non-con elements, explicit sexual content, exhibitionism, age gap, established relationship, jealousy, possessive!joel, softdom!joel, unprotected sex, alcohol, hair pulling

Length: 3.3K

Summary: At a client's house party, you catch yourself getting jealous of other eyes on Joel. Joel pulls you aside to show you exactly what he thinks of that.

This is my first time writing for Joel Miller, so please go easy on me <3

☆☆☆

What is it about Joel that makes him most attractive when he's stuck somewhere he doesn't want to be?

You tip back the last of your whiskey sour, gazing at the tight creases in the corners of his eyes as he nods along with the blond guy who's been talking for twenty painful minutes about the crypto market. Joel is leaning back, arms folded over his chest, his big shoulders pushing at the seams of his denim shirt.

He once told you that no one besides you could tell his emotions on his face. You'd laughed and called bullshit at the time, telling him every thought in that pretty head of his showed up plain as day on his face, but right now it doesn't seem to matter. He's been looking like he'd swallowed glass since this guy started talking, and it doesn't seem to make a bit of difference to him.

When Joel had asked if you wanted to come along to the holiday party one of his clients was having at his house, you'd said yes even after hearing that the guy was 'kind of an idiot' and you'd probably be 'bored to tears'. Joel would have skipped it, but unfortunately it was one of his biggest clients, and the invitation wasn't one he could politely decline.

Right now, though, you're sort of wishing you'd listened to him. The party stopped being fun somewhere around the second MLM scheme that had been pitched to you, and you're now counting the minutes until you'll hit the mark Joel set on the drive there: "Least a couple hours - then we can head out."

The guy takes a short pause, then launches into another tirade on bitcoin, and you realize you're going to need another drink to get through it. Joel's arm slips from around your waist as you pull away.

"Be right back, fellas. I'm going to get a refill."

Joel's brows lift as you leave him behind. "Now hold on there. Wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let you get your own drink-"

You wave him off, trying to hold in a smirk. "No really, I need to take a lap. Stretch my legs."

He licks his lips, looks off to the side for a second before calling after you, "Grab me one on your way back, will ya?"

You smile innocently. "You got it."

After your host declines your offer to get him something, you head to the kitchen, making a little chit chat on your way to the well-stocked fridge. You decide to get Joel's beer before you return to the open bar to ask for another drink of your own. You hook your knuckles around the neck of a Modelo, no sooner closing the door to the fridge before you glance back in Joel's direction, seeing he's been joined by a few more people.

It isn't surprising. Joel's the type of guy who tends to draw attention, and not just because of his looks. He's the guy who's in charge, even when he's not in charge. People gravitate toward him; just something about his presence that makes him the most interesting thing in every room.

In spite of that, your attention isn't on him at the moment. It's on the girl making moon eyes beside him. She's tossing a long, shiny ponytail behind her shoulder and grinning ear to ear despite the fact that bitcoin boy hasn't stopped talking.

Picking up a bottle opener, you pop the cap off the beer in your hand by muscle memory, not able to tear your eyes off of them. Joel's attention is still on the host, but when she says something to him, you watch him pull his chin back to nod, holding her in the corner of his eye to give a quick smile.

Kelly, you remember. That's her name. She's the receptionist at the client's office, and she's probably seen more of Joel this month than you have.

You watch as she cranks up her smile another thousand watts, laughing at something one of the other guys in the group has said. Kelly, you think. No. Probably spells it with an i. Kelli. Probably dots it with a heart.

Your face is starting to warm up, and when someone on the other side of the kitchen counter gently asks if you're alright, you clear your throat, then reply that you're fine as you quickly open the fridge for a second Modelo. It's time for you to slow down on the whiskey.

As you make your way back to the group, you catch Kelly/Kelli's eyes and give her a subdued smile. She blinks and smiles back, suddenly looking very shy.

"Now what did I miss?" you ask, when the men dissolve into laughter.

Henry, one of the contractors under Joel, shakes his head. "It ain't worth repeating in the presence of a lady."

The host interjects, "So what do you call Kelly?"

Henry puts an arm around her shoulder. "Aw, she's heard it all before, haven'tcha?"

"That don't mean she wants to hear it from you!" one of the other men shouts, and there's another round of laughter while you bite your lip, watching Joel's eyes as they dip to Henry's arm.

You wrap your lips around the tip of the bottle in your hand, letting the taste of the beer give your mouth an excuse to look sour. Henry's hand is dropping from Kelly's shoulder down to her waist, and while the conversation carries on, Joel leans in close so that only Henry - and you - can hear.

"Cool it, Henry."

"Huh?" comes the slow reply, as he pretends not to have understood him.

Joel just lifts his brows, and that's all it takes for Henry to back off, looking a little sheepish as he unwinds himself from Kelly, who looks more than a little relieved.

Henry turns to you, suddenly trying to make small talk, to save face. "Have you two met? This's our girl Kelly. She takes good care of us, don'tcha, sweetheart?"

You give a polite smile. "We've met. Nice to see you, again. Both of you."

"Uh huh," Henry answers half-heartedly before he wanders off, perhaps to join another conversation, or just to find another drink.

Kelly gives you another polite smile, then as the host starts to back away, bringing the rest of the group with him, she goes along with the crowd. Before she leaves, though, she softly murmurs to Joel, "Thanks for that."

He answers with a stiff nod, but it's more than enough to put the stars back in her eyes as she walks away, leaving the two of you alone.

You're biting your lip again, practically chewing on it, as you dangle Joel's beer by the throat, handing it over to him.

"Thank you," he says, then tips it back immediately.

You don't reply, lost in thought, but pretending nonchalance as you watch the group leave.

"Meant what I said, though," Joel adds in your silence. "Shoulda let me get it. I don't like to have you wanderin' around on your own. Not with this bunch of degenerates."

You smirk. "What, like Henry?"

"For one, yeah," he says, turning to face you now that the sounds of the party are fading into the background. "Lookin' the way you do, won't be able to keep their eyes or their hands off ya."

You laugh him off, but can't pretend that his voice isn't settling right in the bottom of your stomach. He's standing a little closer, now, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with the spice of his cologne. Something about him talking this way puts some boldness into you, and your words come out a bit more reckless than they should.

"Well, maybe you should have asked Kelly to get your drink, then."

He looks dumbfounded for a moment, and you widen your smile to show you're joking.

"I mean, I'm sure she would have," you go on, digging yourself deeper even as your heart kicks up faster. If you'd switched to beer two drinks ago, you probably would have explained yourself better. You would have insisted it was just a joke, because she so clearly has a crush on him. But your words are just swimming in all that whiskey.

"Cute little thing like that," you say, shrugging. "Probably don't mind her 'taking care of you', do ya?"

Joel's eyes are fixed on you, voice easing down into his chest when he asks softly, warningly, "What did you just say?"

He's turned all the way toward you, and all at once the room feels so much smaller, your face so much hotter. He's waiting for an answer, and your breath is caught high in your throat. "I-uh... it was just... nothing."

He's very slowly setting down his beer, looking down to a side table. "Wasn't nothing; I heard it." He looks back up at you, pinning you hard where you stand. "Now repeat it. Wanna make sure I heard you right."

You swallow, mouth dry. "I nn-nothing, I just said..." You force a crooked smile that you know he isn't buying for a second. "Y'know... she's- she's pretty cute, and maybe you... maybe she oughta... 'cause maybe you want her to..."

Your babbling doesn't impress him. He's just staring at you under a darkened brow. He opens his mouth to say something, but the motion of someone else entering the room catches your eye and you snap defensively before he can say anything.

"Joel, I didn't mean-"

He follows your gaze, then turns away and shuts you up with a wide, heavy palm sliding to the small of your back. "C'mere," he says. "C'mon." And the way he breathes it as he guides you out of the room and down the hall, you don't argue.

He finds a bathroom and pushes you inside. While you're looking over his shoulder to make sure no one sees you going in together, he's staring straight ahead, and he closes the door with one hand, still holding you with the other.

"I'm... sorry," you confess as soon as the door closes. "That was stupid. I don't know why I said it."

"Yeah," he grunts, crowding you up against the closed door. "You do."

The way he has you held close, arm around your waist and words warm against your mouth, you'd normally try to kiss him right about now. But looking into his eyes, you know there's no kiss waiting for you on his lips.

He's mad, and you're a little scared. Not scared of him, but scared of what he might do at a party where people might hear. People that he has to work with on Monday.

He isn't drunk, but he's had a few, and your fear ratchets up when his hand slides to your backside, gripping your ass and kneading it as he growls, "You think I give a goddamn about some teenager?"

Despite the way he's manhandling you through your dress, you can't help but roll your eyes. "She's not a teenager."

She isn't really that much younger than you are. And with Joel in his fifties, the thought has crossed your mind that he might just be keeping you around because he got a thing for younger women. You'd just never said anything out loud. Until tonight.

He stops, pulls back. "Alright, guess I'm not bein' clear enough."

He takes you by both arms, pushes you against the sink so you're looking at yourself in the mirror. Behind you, he starts unbuckling his belt.

"Joel..." you whisper, heat pulsing through you just from the sound of the metal clinking. You know you should ask him to stop - is the door even fucking locked? - but you can't get any other words out besides his name.

He slides a hand under your dress, pushing it up and over the swell of your ass. He doesn't slow down, doesn't even run his hand over your skin. He just pushes your panties to the side, pressing the head of his cock right up against your pussy, holding it there as he grits against your ear, "Guess I gotta show you where I want to be."

He pushes the thick head inside you, wrapping one arm around your stomach to keep you from falling forward. His other hand is flat on the sink, not playing with you, not easing anything. He doesn't give you any prep, just shoves in slowly, his cock stretching you all in one go.

You hiss, brow pinching. He didn't even let you get wet enough to take him. You can feel every damn move he makes inside you as he shifts his hips closer to pin you hard against the cold edge of the sink. When he's all the way in, you watch your mouth pop open in the mirror as you take a few panting breaths. The stretch is almost unbearable, but feeling so full of him, you don't want to stop.

He eases out, just a couple inches to coat himself in your slick, then presses back in even harder. You feel like your lungs are going to give out from how tight your gasps are getting.

"Fuck, Joel... hurts," you whine.

He slowly slides you off of him, then feeds it right back in.

"I know it does, honey," he breathes against your neck. "I know it does."

His deep voice makes you pulse around his cock and he drags his big, calloused hand down to the front of your dress, lifting it up just far enough to see your pussy, stuffed full of him. You're leaking down the sides of his cock, glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.

"See that?" he asks, unmoving. "That's where I wanna be. You hear me?"

Giving a shaky nod of your head, you whimper, "Yes."

He starts to piston in and out of you, and you can only watch. You close your eyes tight when he speeds up a little. "It's... mm- it's too much."

He doesn't change his pace. "Ain't about feelin' good. You've got to learn."

He groans when your pussy clenches around him, and you follow with an answering moan as the tension in your muscles starts to fade. You're soaking down both sides of your inner thighs as he opens you up further.

When you've dissolved into whimpering his name, he hooks one arm around your leg from behind, lifting it up so that you're spread wider. His other hand is still holding up your dress.

"Look at that," he grunts, making an obscene display of his cock fucking into your pussy. "Look how fucking hard you make me, baby."

You whine again, struck dumb by how good he feels with every snap of his hips. "God, feels so good... please..."

He's dragging his teeth against your neck when he replies, "Please?"

"Please, Joel. Feels so fucking good," you repeat, eyes closed.

You want him to fuck you properly, to bend you over and make you take him, to use his fingers - to let you use yours - anything; it doesn't matter. You're so worked up, you just need a little more.

"M'not gonna give you what you want, darlin'," he answers. "Don't work like that."

You can't help but loose a plaintive moan, even knowing you deserve it. "Baby, please-"

He drops your knee, letting your leg come down to the floor as he bends you over the sink. When he starts to fuck you for real, you can't hold it together anymore, softly pleading and whining for more, begging him not to stop, opening your eyes to watch him in the mirror as he starts to lose himself, too.

Until a knock at the door jars you right out of it.

"Is anybody in there?"

Joel doesn't even slow down. Just flattens his palm along your lower back to bend you back over after you jolt up.

"Joel-" you hiss. But he keeps giving you exactly what you need, and your eyes roll back.

"Hello?"

He slides a warm hand down the open neckline of your dress, kneading your breast as he looks at you in the mirror. His brown eyes are stern and steady. "Answer."

He keeps feeding you his cock, and you hiccup, legs shaking as you whisper, "I- I don't..."

"Go on and tell 'em. You're busy."

Fuck fuck fuck. "Uhh, s-someone's in here!"

Your voice comes out strained and airy, and you wait for the reply while Joel kisses the skin of your shoulder, sliding the front of your dress down.

"Joel, it's... somebody is..."

"Nothin' in here that I wanna hide," he growls, pushing his hips right up against your ass as he circles a thumb around one of your nipples.

"Fuck, Joel..." The silence outside has been long enough that the person is probably gone, but your pulse is still pounding, and he's making it so fucking hard to think. "Oh my god, yes..."

He's quietly panting, lifts his head long enough to say, "Understand now, pretty girl?"

"Mm..."

"This here's right where I wanna be. Nowhere else," he grunts, pressing his weight down on you, the squelching sounds between your bodies getting louder than your moans. Your eyes are drawn up to the mirror, watching the veins in his neck tighten as he fucks into you harder and harder. "You got it?"

You frantically nod, desperately near the edge of coming. "Fuck, yes, mhm..."

"Maybe I oughta fill you up right here, leave you with somethin' to think about."

"N-no," you stutter, almost sounding like you're sobbing your words. "P-please, I get it. I heard what you s-said."

He has to let you come. You don't care that you were acting up, making something out of nothing. You don't care what got him mad at you. All you can think about is how flushed his chest is beneath the open collar of his shirt, how tight his grip is, how stiff his jaw is set. You just want to listen to that throaty growl, feel him mercilessly fucking you a little while longer. That's all it would take. Just a little bit...

"Fuck-"

Joel pulls out, hand tightening into a fist around himself. You slump against the sink.

"Goddamn, baby. Almost got me, there."

You're on the verge of tears, shuddering with wild breaths. "No, fuck, Joel, please please please-"

He grips a handful of your ass, fingers brushing through your wetness and making you whimper.

"Told you, I ain't giving you what you want."

You hear him zip up his jeans, and then his hand is back at your ass, but this time he's pulling your panties back into place and tugging your dress down.

"Never gonna learn that way."

You whine pitifully, knowing you brought this on yourself, but still pleading under your breath, face drawn tight with frustration.

He helps you stand up properly, giving you his arm to steady yourself. You straighten your dress, cleaning up your appearance in the mirror, and eventually you're able to leave the bathroom, walking out on trembling legs.

He gives you a smirk as you leave the hallway, and something in you finally snaps. Maybe it's a little unfair, but you know exactly what to say to knock that smirk off his face.

You lean in and whisper in his ear, "Guess you didn't want me that bad after all, or you would have finished."

And all of ten minutes later, you're in the cab of his truck. You're screaming his name as you come all over his cock, hands fisted in his hair, tugging it hard while he pumps you full of his cum, cursing you the whole time.

Turns out, he's the one who's never gonna learn.

--

A/N: Thanks for reading! I don't have a taglist for Joel, but I'll add one if I ever write for him again. Hope you enjoyed! :)

Masterlist

[karanseraph]

Allegedly, when my dad was young, my paternal grandmother told him "all men have a dark side." I think she meant well. She was born in the early 20th century, she came over frome Ireland on boat as a child. She had a stepfather who was from another immigrant community. Families were large. There was a lot of poverty and alcohol. They were Catholic, so they also took "original sin" as a concept seriously.

I think this did my dad harm. He actually is a person who struggles with empathy. Now, it's apparent he's neurodivergent from multiple traits he has and that this probably runs in the family, but no one we knew was diagnosed back then. He views criticism as personal attacks. It's difficult for him to see difference between people (like his difference) as positive of a challenge to accept and accommodate and instead thinks (in his darkest moments) that he's broken. Or that I also am someone who needs to be fixed.

But, somehow, I'm sure from conversations most of my siblings including my brothers voted blue and genuinely are able to care about others and will try to help.

And, to clarify, my dad has done volunteer work a d actually helped some people a lot. He is in no way evil. He's human. He is a product of his time. He was indoctrinated, arguably, by nuns, and Jesuits, and the Knights of Columbus, by bullies, and every bit of 1950's US government propaganda about scary different people and the importance of conforming and being "American". He says he didn't know that he was poor as a child because everyone was like that around him. He had a moment in the late 80s where he was arguably upper middle class. But he's also one of those older people now who don't really have wealth in the oldest sense but have pension/retirement tied up in stocks market scrap and keep mortgaging their house when they need cash.

Anyway, this is long.

But what I'm trying to say is people are flawed and human and make mistakes, but they aren't born or made evil or good. I think it's more harmful to say to kids that they have darkness or sin inside them from the start than to focus on choices going forward and the possibility that when one does make a mistake they can also make amends.

So, we should try to tell kids that.

Model good behavior and choices for kids as much as we can. Communicate that humans of all ages can make mistakes. Get rid of the concept of authoritarianism and infallibility in any individual or organization. Embrace differences. Talk about our feelings when we feel hurt by another's choices or actions so we can understand or compromise.

Just do our best and be excellent to each other.

And, specifically, for those boys some are worried about - I know lack of funds can impede this - but give them lots of room to play, give them books about all different people and experiences, take them on trips to see how real people do their work, let them engage with all the dramatic play props and costumes and clothes and dolls. Let them have building toys and action figures they choose. Let them use telescopes and microscopes to shift their perspective. Let them draw and paint and write. Let them compete and measure, without focusing on the win itself.

And let all kids do those things (but above posts were about boys).

And if there's a financial struggle to provide all this, try libraries or a device that can stream old episodes of Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, or Reading Rainbow, or Sesame Street, etc.

Because, going back to my dad, he wasn't really able to model the most typical social-emotional behaviours or interactions for me, but I could see Optimus Prime or Fred Rogers interact with others.

And my brothers turned out pretty OK possibly because our dad was able to provide many books but also because he decided with my mom early on that girls could play with cars and boys could play with dolls.

And how/why he decided that when he was such a product of past generations and watches a certain news channel three or four times a day now I can't explain. But he did.

So, we know, I think, how to help kids. I worked in early childcare education for a time myself. People know how to help kids. But...there's also a struggle for any service to be profitable which means the teacher-student ratios can get stretched and that teachers can get stuck with so many assessments and standardized testing requirements that they aren't just spending time with the kids.

But we know.

And, unfortunately, there are some in the world who have differing goals. Right? Like do you want healthy men who can work together with diverse groups of people in cooperating to better the world? Or do you want obedient workers? Soldiers? Slaves?

Men themselves are not the problem. Boys aren't a problem.

It's young people growing up with divisivness and poverty and war and demand of conformity and obedience, etc.

So, probably the best we can do foe young men is to try to understand that they aren't evil by nature. Probably Patriarchy hurt them. But because of that, they don't want to admit it to themselves, because that would be weakness.

We need to keep showing them that there are places for men (again, all people need attention, but above posts were about boys and men) in the society we want.

We can say it to men we know. We can say that we really liked when they did math homework with us, or played Lego with us, or played us music we liked, or organized a tabletop game, or built us a bookcase, or cooked chicken the way we like, or taught us how to draw our eyeliner, or even expressed a desire to defend us against another man. (These are just some examples from my life, yours are likely different.)

It would be nice if we didn't also have those negative influences in the world, but we do and we can't stop them overnight or by ourselves.

So, we do our best to model and encourage the behaviours we want and to protect institutions that help like our public libraries, and to ask for policies that will (actually) improve schools.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[aurae-rori]

okay so hear me out i have a genius idea

yanqing in sumeru. (yes, the obvious option would be to put him in liyue, but i honestly don't feel like writing that right now).

yanqing and cyno interactions.

YANQING AND WANDERER INTERACTIONS.

now that i've caught your attention-

yanqing falls through a wormhole or something. ends up stranded in sumeru. like, right in sumeru city. he wakes up in an alleyway and is like genuinely, what the mcflipping fuck. so he wanders through sumeru, talks to a few people who have NEVER heard of the xianzhou luofu, and eventually, someone reports him to the corps of 30 because there is an unsupervised foreign child who keeps on talking about a xianzhou luofu, what the FUCK is a xianzhou luofu.

they take him in to the matra, he answers a couple of questions, EVERYONE involved is confused as shit, so they pull out cyno. yanqing talks to him and hes like. you remind me of my dad. hahaha. and cyno is like. okay this kid is telling the truth. so we're gonna have to keep him around until we figure out a way to send him back to the luofu.

(this gets really long)

he does not want to go into a fucking rainforest, so he ends up rooming with kaveh & alhaitham after spending a few nights with nahida and bonding with her (i believe they r friends,,,) and she reccomends that he go to stay with them. yanqing is very polite and doesn't make his prsence known a lot because he is genuinely kind of afraid of the two of them even tho they are really nice to him, and one day he goes out and he just wanders through the streets of sumeru and bumps into the wanderer. he introduces himself as 'hat guy' and a friend of nahida's, so yanqing is like, oh, cool. wait, what? your name is HAT GUY?

cue bullying wanderer. and wanderer is like, this kid doesn't know who he's fucking talking to wtf and maybe they end up sparring or something. i think they would bond over fighting and yanqing would pick up a few tips and tricks from wanderer, who probably is secretly like, 'this kid has talent what the fuck where did this child even come from'. eventually after they spar for a bit yanqing ends up telling him more about the xianzhou and from that interaction with wanderer, he starts to come out of his shell more. he eats dinner with kaveh and alhaitham, and gets used to their bickering. he goes to see cyno again and meets tighnari and collei, even faruzan who probably takes a liking to him. people take him to nilou's shows. when candace and dehya visit from the desert he gets to meet them too.

and slowly, over time, they start to get to know him more. he tells them stories of the high cloud quintet, from their rise to their fall. he tells them about the borisin, and hoolay, and feixiao. he tells them about jiaoqiu and his bravery, sushang and her determination, huohuo and tail. he tells them about yunli's bravery and brashness, about jing yuan's patience and slyness, of moze's shennanigans and loyalty.

he tells them broken bits and pieces of stories and then, he tells them about the xianzhou history. he tells them about mara. he tells them about how he's had to cut down soldiers so much older than him that he wouldn't even know when they were born.

he tells them about the disciples of abundance, in little, clipped stories.

and they listen.

he draws his friends, too. he's not too great at it, but he draws them, and tells cyno that he reminds him so much of his dad. he plays tcg with them, joins them for game night. drags wanderer into social interactions, explores sumeru, watches the sun set from the trees.

he makes them little mementos of himself. he commissions someone to make a little bird charm out of materials he gathers up. and then he gives them to his friends, and when jing yuan inevitably comes to see him home (he wants to go back, he loves it here but he loves his home more) they will be able to remember him.

yanqing learns that defeat is okay. he learns that he can be loved. and that people are really complex, and that love can be shown in different ways. yanqing learns that he can love, too. :)

wow this turned way longer than i thought it would so uh. hope u enjoy my nonsensical ramblings!

[uhohbestie]

There Are Monsters Nearby [Chapter 42]

🏜 Pairing: Grian/Scar

🧟‍♂️ Tags: zombie AU, zombie apocalypse, lovers to exes, slow burn, eventual reconciliation

📖 Summary: The day after Scar breaks up with Grian, the dead come back to life. Knowing that venturing out alone is a death sentence, the sudden onset of the apocalypse forces them to stick together despite their tensions. In the wreckage of the world, they're forced to survive side-by-side, coming to terms with the fact that���try as they might—there's still no one they trust more than each other.

Chapter 42 - The story of There Are Monsters Nearby concludes as Scar and Grian turn away from their past and look towards the future.

📝 Words: 11,088

🔗 Link: Read Chapter 42 on AO3

—

“I want you to get Pop Tarts,” Grian says, his attention cast to the side while Scar works, looking towards the settlement in the distance. It’s a fair ways off, looking more like a grey-brown smudge from where they stand— a collection of RVs and camper vans clustered close together in the lee of a grassy ridge, the surrounding hills fringed in sparse junipers and hardy looking spruce saplings. There’s an open space between them, dotted with small lumps that Scar knows are grazing cattle and a clustered herd of goats.

The ruins of a city lay further off to the east, the handful of buildings not blackened from fire standing empty and abandoned. It’s from there that the zombies have been drifting out, a perpetual source of mindless, wandering horror. Though now, thanks to Scar’s aim and Grian’s tenacious knack for violence, the tide will hopefully have been stemmed to some degree.

“And whatever milk and cheese they’ve got. I saw all their animals, there’s no way they don’t have dairy to spare.”

It’s an endearing quirk that Grian has adopted ever since it became clear his diet was permanently changed. He likes to pick things for Scar to eat now, planning and suggesting his meals with whatever they scavenge, hunt, and barter. He’s never been a good cook, not even before the world fell apart, but it’s been sweet the way he's applied himself to improving, the two times he gave Scar food poisoning already becoming fond memories in their own way.

When the last zombie’s head has been separated from its body, Scar yanks a glove onto his hand and begins gathering them all, shoving each one into a canvas sack that he uses for the sole purpose of demonstrating their worth to any sceptical marks they come across. Once he’s done, he sets the bag down, putting out his arm and drawing Grian in close.

“Good work out there,” he compliments, pressing a kiss to the top of his partner’s head. Grian’s hair is clean and smells incredibly good—like sandalwood and something crisp—everything about him well-maintained, despite the state of the world around them. “You really treated those googlies like you had a score to settle.”

Without hesitation Grian leans into Scar’s touch, the easy return of his affection still a novelty, despite how many weeks Scar’s been allowed and able to enjoy it.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” he offers, his words mumbled sweetly into the thick flannel of Scar’s shirt. “You’re getting to have a real hawk-eye with your aim, you know.”

“I love it when you say I’m a hot guy,” Scar preens, deliberately mishearing him. “Got a real nice ring to it.”

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Chapter 42! 380k words and ten months later, we are so happy to announce that we've come to the end of our story. While there's still so much more of TAMN left that we plan to write and share, this portion is over, and we couldn't be happier. Thank you so, so much for going on this journey with us, and we hope you enjoy the epilogue and ending of There Are Monsters Nearby 💜🧡

You can read the whole fic thus-far in the link below ↓↓↓

You may not rest now, There Are Monsters Nearby (on ao3!)

[maysileeewrites]

distracted

Robb Stark x fem! Reader || 18+, MDNI! 

Synopsis: „How am I supposed to sit here, planning a war, when you’re over there, looking like that?“ 

c.w.: smut!! (seriously, this is really just smut with barely any plot) - piv, unprotected sex, hints of praise kink, breeding kink (never thought I’d ever tag one of my fics like that, but here we are, the things Robb Stark gets me to write …); established relationship, wife!reader 

w.c.: 1.7k || masterlist

AN: more plot-heavier Robb fics are coming soon, but I just had to write this purely self-indulgent smut fic first ... Hope you enjoy!

Usually, you’d describe yourself as a fairly patient person. 

Usually. 

However, there are certain situations in which you tend to be the complete opposite of patient - like tonight, for example. 

In your defense, you’ve been waiting for Robb to join you in bed for quite some time now. And you know that he’s not keeping you waiting to spite you - by the seven, you know that he’s got a war to plan, and thinking about that gets you frustrated even more with your own impatience tonight -, you know what’s keeping him so preoccupied, know how important that is, but somehow, you can’t help it.

Not when Robb is right there, sitting at the table in your tent, several maps spread out on the table around him, tousled curls falling into his face, wearing nothing but a thin robe that’s already started to slip off his shoulders, revealing the planes of his broad, muscular chest. 

You can’t help the soft sigh, full of yearning that escapes you then - finally earning you Robb’s attention. 

When he looks over at you, his eyes visibly widen. Suddenly, you feel your cheeks burning up and fight the urge to grab the thick fur covers lying next to you to cover up your naked body. 

You’ve been lying here in bed, waiting, for what feels like an eternity now, and with the thick furs covering you and the warm fire crackling a few feet away from you, you’d started feeling incredibly hot under the thick covers, so you’d thrown them aside. Purely for the sake of not feeling like you’re being roasted alive anymore, of course. 

Though you can’t deny that Robb’s reaction to seeing you like this is even better than the sensation of relief that washed over you after you’d thrown the blankets aside. 

He bites down on his lips, and you can see him clenching his fists. It’s too bad that the table is blocking the lower half of his body from your view - 

Just then, Robb groans, the sound low and intense. 

Suddenly, you feel even hotter than when you’d still been under the covers. 

Robb shakes his head at you, his eyes hungrily taking in your naked form. „How am I supposed to sit here, planning a war, when you’re over there, looking like that?“ 

At Robb’s words, you bite down hard on your lip, feeling your cheeks burn up. You can’t help it. 

Sometimes, when you’re together with Robb, you still feel like a maiden, young and innocent, as if you and Robb haven’t been married for some time now. 

As if he didn’t already touch you in ways that have desire pooling between your legs, just thinking about them. 

As if he didn’t already say things to you that turned your entire body to jelly in his arms. 

Thinking about that night a few days ago, when he was moving inside you, one arm slung across your stomach, pressing your back to his broad chest, while he took you from behind, his other hand drawing teasing circles over your clit, causes an all too-familiar, bittersweet ache to settle between your legs. Especially when you recall the words he whispered into your ear right after you’d reached your peak. 

That’s it, don’t hold back. Come for me. Going to fill you up- 

„What, already speechless?“ 

Robb’s teasing words draw you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you see how his eyes have darkened with desire. He’s still sitting at the table, still clenching his fists, and suddenly, an idea enters your lust-filled mind. 

Oh, you’ll show him speechless. 

Smirking, you get up from your bed and slowly walk over towards Robb, taking your sweet time with every step you take, enjoying the way Robb seems completely transfixed by you. 

You come to stand in front of him, just looking at him for a moment - his pupils have widened and his breathing has grown quite shallow -, before reaching out towards him and teasingly running a hand across his bare chest. 

Robb’s breath actually hitches. 

You smirk. „What, speechless already?“, you taunt, throwing his earlier words back at you. 

Robb’s eyes widen, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything. Still smirking, you sit down on his lap, laying your free hand on Robb’s shoulder to steady yourself. 

Robb groans and you have to close your eyes for a moment. Not just because you love eliciting these kinds of sounds from Robb, but also because the friction is almost too much to bear for you as well. There’s nothing more than Robb’s thin robe between your aching core and Robb’s stiff, erect member and if you grind yourself against Robb-

Just then, Robb’s hands settle on your waist, mercilessly keeping you in place. You want to protest, you really do, but when you feel Robb’s lips grazing over the sensitive skin of your neck, forming any coherent thought suddenly feels impossible. 

Robb seems to sense this as well, because he chuckles quietly, before his lips start trailing lower, down from your neck to your collarbone, to your breasts. 

Your breath hitches, and even though you can’t see it, you’re pretty sure that there’s a triumphant spark in Robb’s eyes right now. He loves to tease you. In fact, you think that he enjoys it just a little too much. 

Not that you particularly mind, though. How could you, when Robb’s teeth grazing over the sensitive skin of your bosom feels so heavenly? His hands are still keeping you in place, but his grip on you has loosened. 

When you try to shift forward this time, there’s no protesting from Robb. Instead, the only reaction he shows is a low, deep groan, before his lips close around one of your nipples. 

A sigh escapes you, morphing into a groan, when Robb starts flicking his tongue over your nipple, while suddenly tightening his grip on you again, only this time it’s to re-position you in his lap. Now, he has you even closer to him and when you feel his stiff cock at your entrance, a breathless, desperate whine escapes you. 

„Robb“, you breathe out, one of your hands moving up from his shoulders to tangle in his auburn curls, tugging at them the way you know always drives him crazy. 

Finally, he looks up at you. 

And by the seven, the image of him with his head between your breasts, his lips still wrapped around one of your nipples, looking up at you with a deep, dark yearning in his eyes is enough to get you clenching around nothing. 

„Robb, please“, you whine, trying to desperately to grind yourself against him, but his grip on your waist has tightened once again. 

Another whine escapes you and you bite down hard on your lips. Somehow, you feel as if you could almost cry from frustration. You need Robb, and you need him now. 

So, you tell him. „Robb, I need you, please-“

The rest of your words are swallowed by the hungry, bruising kiss Robb gives you. You’re so dizzy, so distracted, that you almost don’t notice Robb’s hands moving to lift you up - until you feel him lowering you down onto his cock. 

A surprised hiss escapes you, and your grip on Robb’s curls tightens at the sudden contact. 

Robb, however doesn’t give you any time to adjust to him like he usually does - usually, he’d also make sure to prepare you for him with his fingers or preferably his tongue, but tonight, the same hungry, desperate frenzy you’ve been feeling seems to have taken over him as well -, he slams right up into you, filling you up completely. 

Pain and pleasure mix together, and you cry out. Your grip on Robb’s shoulder is so desperate that you’re convinced your fingernails are going to leave marks, but right now, you couldn’t care less. 

Not with Robb mercilessly bucking his hips up again, one hand still on your waist, keeping you in place, the other tangled in between your hair. 

„Gods, I love it when you’re so desperate“, Robb whispers, looking right at you as he enters you again in a merciless, powerful thrust. 

You whine again, meeting Robb’s gaze. Coming up with any kind of coherent sentence in reply seems impossible, and so all you can do is look at Robb and take his powerful thrusts inside you. 

„You’re so beautiful like this“, Robb continues, just as his hand suddenly leaves your hair, trailing down from your neck to your breast and over your stomach until his fingers start to draw teasing circles over your clit. 

„Robb.“ 

„Looking all fucked out and cock-drunk, with that hazy look in your eyes and your lips swollen - makes me want to fill you right up, because you’d look even more beautiful with your belly swollen with my child-“

And somehow, that does it. You come - harder than you’ve ever come before. 

Crying out your husband’s name, you come, shaking, burying your head in the crook of Robb’s neck as white-hot waves of pleasure wash over you and you clench around him. 

Robb thrusts into you once, twice and once again, the friction nearly too much for your aching, sensitive core, before he comes as well, spilling his hot seed inside you. 

„Robb“, is all you can manage to whisper. 

You’re still shaking, and when Robb closes his arms around you, drawing you into his chest, you nearly collapse onto him. 

For a moment, you stay like that, with you in his arms and him still inside you. Robb’s hands draw gentle patterns on your skin and he starts to whisper sweet nothing into your ear, a stark contrast to the rough, dominant husband you’d witnessed just moments before. 

Eventually, you find the strength to lift your head from his shoulder again. Robb slips out of you, but his hand immediately moves between your legs again. 

„Robb, please, it’s too much“, you whimper, completely overwhelmed as he pushes his fingers inside of you. 

„Sh, love“, Robb whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. „I’m just making sure that we’re not wasting a single drop.“ 

When your eyes meet his again, he’s smirking.

„Who’s speechless now, love?“ 

Robb tag list: @justmymindandstuff @rheanyraaaa @prettydeeryess @inkandarsenic @strrvnge

[theres-no-escaping-us-pal]

JAVEY HEADCANNONS

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pre-relationship:

literally obsessed with each other.

like, Davey can’t shut up about Jack to Les

and Les is js like “okay? 🤨”

and Jack can’t stop drawing at Davey.

it gives him an excuse to stare at him.

he tells everyone that Davey is just fun to draw.

and then everyone’s looking at him like “sure buddy, suuureeeee”

a lot of ‘accidental’ hand brushes.

and other acts of ‘accidental affection’ like shoulder brushes and thighs touching when they sit next to each other.

Davey was the first person Jack cried in front of (other than Crutchie, of course)

Crutchie, Race, and Albert have a bet going over who’s gonna confess to who.

“Racer- psst- Race!” “what?” “twenty bucks says Jack confesses to Davey.” “you’re on!”

every single one of the newsies understood what was going on between them before they did.

Crutchie was their biggest shipper.

overall it’s a lot of them being blushing, oblivious, idiots.

confession:

I feel like it could go one of two ways.

option 1: Jack plans a romantic confession on the rooftop and gives Davey a whole romantic speech before saying, “so, what do ya say, Dave?” and kissing him.

ORRRR

option 2: Davey sees Jack’s collection of drawings of him while he and Jack are on the rooftop.

and Davey’s like “so… what are these?”

and Jack gets all blushy and starts stuttering like “I-I- well… uhm… so, ya see… y’know… uhm….”

then Davey just grabs his collar and kisses him.

anyways, choose whichever one you like better.

when Jack tells Crutchie, he either goes “oh, hell yes! RACER!! YOU OWE ME TWENTY!!” or “GODDAMNIT!! YOU COULDN’T’VE JUST PLUCKED UP THE CORAGE TO DO IT YOURSELF!? DAMNIT, JACK! I’M DOWN TWENTY DOLLARS!”

either way, he’s super happy for them.

post-confession (boyfriends):

tried to hide it from the newsies at first cause they were scared they wouldn’t be supportive.

then, one day Race found them kissing and was kinda just like 😐 before yelling for the other newsies. (I might write this as a oneshot)

obviously all of them are supportive.

even the Delancey’s were when they found out.

they’d tease the fuck out of them but not in a homophobic way, just a more light hearted way.

Jack always has his arm around Davey’s shoulders/waist when they’re walking.

pulled Davey down to kiss him by the tie one time and Davey couldn’t stop blushing.

sometimes Jack stands on boxes/stairs or sits on a bunk when him and Davey kiss cause he likes to feel taller.

Davey always makes sure that Jack is fed.

even if it means he gives up his food for him.

like, Ethster packs lunches for Davey and Les.

but most of the time Davey just gives his to Jack to make sure he gets at least one good meal.

Davey always lies about eating a lot at breakfast so Jack won’t feel bad.

Davey holds Jack against his chest when they cuddle.

if they’re spooning, they argue over who’s the small spoon.

Jack wins most of the time.

Jack likes to kiss Davey’s nose, cheek, or forehead in public, but kisses on the lips are only in private.

Davey reads out loud to Jack while Jack draws.

Jack’s love language is definitely physical affection or words of affirmation and Davey’s is quality time followed closely by physical affection.

they’re incredibly domestic.

Crutchie will make gagging sounds whenever they’re being really coupley.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

in conclusion: Jack and Davey are perfect and if anyone disagrees they can fuck right off my page. ❤️❤️❤️

[laniemae]

“I think I have to climb to the top of the hill if I wanna see what's going on on the other side...”

Drew this through tears as an acceptance that Ojima will be the killer of this chapter and that he’ll die and I’ll never see him again.

Vent/rant under cut

——— I’m actually crying right now while writing this. I can’t see any other possibility where Ojima isn’t the killer. Just everything story wise and plot and symbolic wise makes sense. He’s already the prime suspect with his shaky alibi, him going to the medbay at midnight, the blood on Hiroaki’s bed where he slept for the night, his strange disassociating more than usual. 

At this point there’s so much evidence pointing towards Ojima being the one who killed Chiba I’m already grieving his inevitable death this trial. Just, even with the parallels between him and Chiba with the story time episode where he wrote a children’s book with her, hence the text in the art referencing that. And how that one time he talked during his dissociative haze he said the exact words that Chiba said to him while writing the book. I can only think of this as Ojima in shock with how he killed her. There’s also their parallels as well with both having sorts of age regression and coping by living through a childish fantasy lens. It’d be so sad thinking how that could be symbolic of Ojima killing a perception of himself. And with Ojima being a children’s book illustrator who had his childhood taken away from him and Chiba looking like a child and having a similar form of regression I can’t imagine how tragic this story would play out through with the trial. 

I really thought Ojima would have more time as I felt it’d be inevitable we’d get a breakdown scene with his PTSD and learning more about that story, but with how things are going I could imagine that happening during the trial. God I don’t even wanna imagine how his execution would be if it goes the route on playing up his trauma, these killing game staff are sadists and I could completely imagine them doing that, especially with the mention of working on the execution in the staffside.

I’m also in absolute tears over his relationship with Hiroaki. Just… purple is so devastating with the likely idea that Ojima is the killer, and even imagining if he already killed at that time. Them sharing an intimate moment and Hiroaki confessing how he’s so reliant and attached to him and how they’re basically codependent, and as well with how he’s almost finished the drawing for Ojima. When he’s the killer he’ll never be able to show it to him and he’ll have absolutely no one by his side anymore who cares about him or even loves him. It would be the most heartbreaking thing ever.

Ojima is such an incredibly amazing character like I’ve never seen before I can’t prepare for him to be the chapter 2 killer… he would’ve gone too early and I’m such despair. I’ll never be able to see him again in the series, he’ll never speak again I’ll never be able to get exited whenever an episode pops up in a thumbnail he’ll never dissociate again he’ll never be funny and sassy again he’ll never help Hiroaki to open up again he’ll never have a hilariously gay moment with Hiroaki again. He’s lived 16 years of his life going through the worst abuse a human could face, only for when he escapes to be dragged into a killing game and forced to commit a murder of someone who shares so much similarities with him. I’m already feeling the effects of his death a week before it happens and I’d rather fall into despair than yearn for hope only to have it taken away from me. I can’t imagine how I’ll be able to watch tetro with Ojima gone forever. I have been crying the entire day over this and my tears are making this hard to write.

[rockgodklav]

”…Ah.” Klavier’s mind has went to his own family and, though their situations were actually different, it got him to move on. He stood back up.

“I see, I see.. Well, ach,” Klavier moved on swiftly, humming a Gavinners’ tune as he brushed past Apollo and opened up the bedroom door. He seemed to walk in rhythm with the self-made beat.

He glanced back at Apollo. “Aren’t you coming along? I fear I may destroy your kitchen if you leave me alone for too long, ja.” It was an attempt to get Apollo to lighten up—to move on, for now.

And, well… Klavier couldn’t cook anyway, so there was some truth in his claim of ‘destroying the kitchen.’ He held open the door, grinning.

[[ AS A CONTINUATION OF THIS POST (REALLY LONG REBLOG CHAIN) ]]

[[ @jaydovekj ]]

// before I continue I want to point out that this is what Apollo looks like right now. It's not that important, he just looks funny. ignore the tiny chair/giant apollo, drawing furniture is hard & i made that while dead tired

"Advice? Hm." [The voice paused in thought, the man's wry smile easily visualized even with his lack of presence.] "Now, what would you need my advice with? You can make decisions for yourself, can't you?"

[Another pause occurred, more palpable than the last. But after a moment, he continued again, Kristoph's voice switching to a much more light, saccharine tone.]

"...But, who would I be, to not help guide you?"

[While his eyes had diverted off to the side, Apollo's brows were furrowed at the part of the conversation he could hear. Even the simple concept of Klavier talking to someone else, possibly about him, made him nervous... and going off of the man's demeanor, it could only really be one person, right?

He paused his thoughts, closing his eyes.

Frightened? No. If anything... he felt more embarrassed about the potential of him knowing. Knowing that left an odd pit in his stomach, his mouth pulling into a thin frown.]

[t1oui]

thinking about how living w regulus would affect harry like

he's such a fucking snob about everything. food, decor, fashion, you name it, he's got opinions on it.

he does ballet despite being the least graceful person on the planet. he's somehow pretty good at it, likely out of spite

speaks french

very much a cat person, has a cat named leo who is his baby

like yk how james and sirius are extremely codependent? that's how harry is w leo. both of them can not handle being apart from each other too long

reads a lot of stories

thinks seeker is the best quidditch position

on that note, lots of slytherin house pride. james hates it. harry refuses to put any gryffindor decorations up in his room

harry loves taking pictures just like reg so the house is filled with photographs

and ofc harry is snobby about what types of cameras he uses thanks to reg. james now just lets them deal with the cameras & photography stuff bc he's scared to get the wrong thing lol

harry is taller than reg but bc dysphoria all of reg's old clothes (like quidditch jerseys + hoodies and stuff) are his size so half his wardrobe is from reg's hogwarts days

definitely the type of guy to change his bedding & curtains & everything in his room based on the season. will anybody actually be in there other than him and his parents? not really, but he MUST redecorate

idk what this even means but snobby about candles. this is another thing james is scared to buy him

harry and reg speak french w each other more than english

since james doesn't speak french w harry (i hc he's only comfortable speaking it w reg) harry is used to having a conversation in two different languages so sometimes he'll be speaking french w his friends without noticing

he'll be in the middle of a rant and realize they don't understand a thing he's saying lol

reg and harry control the decorating for every holiday, every birthday, etc.

the one thing harry knows how to do that reg doesn't/reg didn't teach him is cooking. reg never cooked for himself as a child so james was the one who taught him

doesn't look like it most of the time but all of harry's clothes are very expensive... did i mention he's a snob

harry is such a dry texter/writer... he's such a dick about grammar when it comes to writing even tho he can barely string a sentence together when speaking

deeply sarcastic (look! a canon detail! we never thought we'd see that on this account, did we?)

will take his partners on the most expensive dates & whatnot like it's nothing... cedric the farmboy™️ is not prepared

writes sad boy poetry when he gets annoyed w someone... like harry will storm off all pissed and then he comes back 20 mins later with a beautifully written, very angry poem for whoever made him mad

has so many clothes & different curtains and bedding sets for different seasons that he also uses the closet in the guest room (reg takes up 99% of his and james's closet for the same reason)

has an inherent hatred of fake plants

bedroom is simultaneously tidy and so messy a hurricane might as well have come through

leaves a book behind everywhere he goes

secretly the worst sense of humor lmao

he may not have gotten his love of drawing/painting from regulus, but you def see reg in the way he is, you guessed it, a massive snob about art supplies

soooo indecisive. redoes his room at least twice a year

an asshole when he gets less than 10 hours of sleep... he's mildly tolerable after 3 cups of coffee (black, of course) but you might as well just ignore him until he gets a nap in

on that note is very good at making coffee and is, drum roll please, a massive snob about it. who would've guessed (somebody count how many times i've said snob in this post and comment it please and thank you)

if he doesn't like a gift he's horrible at pretending he's happy w it so people usually go through reg whenever they buy him something... this goes both ways too, people go through harry when buying something for reg

is visually james and lily's but in personality is really just reg's (and also lily's... he definitely inherited his spite from her lol)

is a crazy cat lady by age 20

at least 10 pictures of leo in his room... he has whole photoshoots for her and she poses for them

might as well not hang out w harry at his house bc he'll make out with his cat the whole time

loves going to art museums w regulus

he's a, surprise surprise, snob about art. james just doesn't comment on art altogether atp

his vocabulary is a weird mashup of french, english, and hindi that makes it very hard for anybody who doesn't know him well to understand what he's saying lol

looks angry until he smiles (he got this from lily but a life with reg has perfected it)

needs a golden retriever to his black cat in any given relationship (enter cedric and cho) (yes i'm going to push my rarepair on everyone reading this)

tl;dr being raised by/living w regulus has turned harry into a massive snob about literally everything and regulus is proud of it (blink twice if you need help, james)

[theweepingangelofcas]

Too Much - William Moriarty x Reader

Summary: You're overstimulated. It's all too much. But don't worry, William will be happy to help. Hey guys! I'm trying my best to get back into writing on here, so please forgive me if its a slow start.

*************

You felt like you were going to cry.

Everything was just too much. Your job, your peers, your life. It felt as though with each breath, your world was crashing down on you a little more.

You didn't want to tell your husband, William. His own life had been so chaotic recently, you knew he didn't need more added onto his plate. Just the other day, you could have sworn you saw tears falling from his eyes as you held him after a long day. He didn't need to worry about you too.

Of course, you couldn't hide it for long. He knew you too well. One tiny slip up, and all your emotions came bursting forth.

It felt so stupid.

You had hit your knee on the bedframe as you were changing into your nightgown. Normally, you would've just winced and continued on with your day. But this night, with everything else that had been weighing on you, all you could do was feel yourself shatter like a thin pane of glass.

It was like every thought you had was hateful, beating on the outside of your brain to be let in. Worthless. Useless. Stupid. Ugly. All of it was overwhelming you until you found yourself, sobbing a puddle as you laid on the floor. Your head was in your hands, your knees drawn closely to your chest. You felt like you were just a small, stupid child.

You don't know how loudly you were sobbing, or even if it was dead quiet, but William found you soon after anyways. It was as though he could feel your anguish through the walls.

Running in through the bedroom door, he fell to his knees next to you, frantic to see if you were alright. You felt him gently turn you onto your back, felt his gaze searching for potential wounds. When he saw none, he gently laid himself next to you.

"Y/n? My love? Are you alright?"

The words came out much too distressed, "No, William. My head hurts. I'm so dumb. Why are you with me? I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be anywhere. I don't deserve any bit of this life. I'm so flawed and you don't seem to see it!"

Your lips just kept moving, spewing a torrent of everything that had been on your mind. Your coworker's laziness, the man who harassed you while you were buying groceries, the feeling of being not enough. You just couldn't stop it. It was like a dam in your mind was broken, and nothing could help it close again.

That was, until, you felt his hand gently guiding your head to look at him.

"Shh. I know. I know. But I promise you, dear, none of those things are true. You truly are a beautiful, lovely, amazing individual. You don't deserve to feel this way."

You watched as he stood up, turning to the bed and fluffing the pillow near the headrest. Then, he stooped down, scooping you into his warm arms.

Tears were still flowing freely by the time he tucked you into the covers, and he wiped them away with his finger.

"Y/n? I'm going to draw you a bath. I will be right back, I promise."

You reached out for his hand, still sniffling, but she shushed you gently, "Right back. Cross my heart."

You nodded, turning to bury your face in the plush pillow beneath your head.

True to his word, he was gone for less than 5 minutes. You could hear the water running in the adjacent bathroom, and lavender scented suds could be seen dancing above the tub.

"A bubble bath?"

He nodded, "It's much more fun that way, isn't it? I even added some of those magnesium salts you love so much."

He held out his hand, and you took it. Guiding you out of bed, he led you to the bathroom, "I'll leave while you get undressed. Please call for me once you're in the tub."

You nodded, watching as he left. The door shut, and you shed your nightgown quickly, not wanting time to see the body you were so ashamed of.

Sinking into the water did feel like heaven, though. It was perfectly warmed. Hot, but not too hot. Enough to relax your tense muscles. The bubbles rested close to your chin, and you could smell the lavender tonic he used to make them.

You hummed, and he peeked his head back in.

Even though you were thoroughly covered by bubbles, you still instinctively placed your hands over your chest to hide yourself, and he shut his eyes immediately.

"So sorry, my love. I swear I'll keep my eyes closed."

You blinked away the last few tears you had, "I'm the one that's sorry, Will. You were probably having such a nice evening before I ruined it."

You felt his hands go to your shoulders, gently massaging the knots away, "Nonsense. I'm having a lovely evening with you, right now."

Deep breath in, deep breath out, you allowed the scents in the air to calm your nerves. You felt a gently kiss to the back of your head, his hands not stopping their ministrations.

Perhaps, just maybe, you didn't hate yourself that much after all.

[deoidesign]

Time and Time Again comes back tonight!

Thank you all for being so patient with me, I know it was a long hiatus.

My health was struggling, my arm was (is) hurting, and I decided it wasn't worth it. I'd rather be slow!

So thank you for giving me that grace, and I hope you'll be there with me for the rest of the series.

[im-smart-i-swear]

can you remember being born? were you born at all

[triglycercule]

if dust takes off his hood and scarf then nobody can recognize him. he has literally no permanent traits that make him recognizable (which actually kinds upsets me because,,,,, there is no physical representation of his character development from sans to dust BUT EAAHHHH whatever,,, we cope with it.) but in like a silly goofy comedic way. it's like perry the playapus ans dr doofenshirmst (incorrect spelling but only by societies standards)

dust with hood down and no scarf

killer: a sans?

he puts on the scarf

horror: a GENOCIDE sans???

the hood goes up

killer: DUST SANS AKA MURDER SANS AKA DUSTTALE SANS FROM HIT AU DUSTTALE?????

horror's skull breaks a second time on the other side from sheer shock

[tj-crochets]

I thought of another category of pattern making advice! So below this read more, I'll talk about what objects are helpful to have on hand when creating your own patterns:

First off, a pencil, pen, or marker and some paper (when I started I used pencil so I could erase, these days I mostly use brushtip markers if I plan ahead, whatever writing utensil is next to me if I don't. I use cast off empty pages from some stamp albums I got from a neighbor restructuring how he stored his stamp collection several moves ago as my paper, but you can use whatever paper you have on hand) Scissors: if you can, have separate fabric scissors and paper scissors, and do not use the fabric scissors to cut paper. If you can't, it's not the end of the world, it's just something that will make your life a little easier. Having paper scissors with short blades can also help if you are making small things Tape! Not 100% necessary for most patterns, but if you are making big pattern pieces it's very very helpful to be able to tape pieces of paper together Some sort of tool to measure 1/4 inch (or whatever your preferred seam allowance is). I use two mechanical pencils taped together, one tracing the line of the pattern piece, one drawing the seam allowance line. Alternatively, you can use a ruler (takes a long time) a 1/4 square dowel (a little faster but depending on the length of the dowel can be awkward to maneuver), or just kind of eyeball the 1/4 inch seam allowance. To be clear, I do not recommend not measuring the seam allowance, but I have to admit that's the method I use most often these days unless I making a very complexly shaped thing A protractor! This is more of an aspirational thing for me than a thing I actually use, but if I had one it would be very useful. I mean, I do have one, I just don't know where I put it? When you are planning where several pattern pieces come together, like a y or x seam, it can be helpful to measure out the angle the tip of each piece needs to be to get the desired effect (360 degrees for flat, less for pointed, more for ruffled). To be honest, when I need this I either use my quilting ruler, a nearby right angled thing, or look up how to fold an origami thing that has the correct angle in it and use that to measure it (usually a star). Again, it's not necessary, but it is helpful A flexible way to measure curved lines: okay so my first thought when I figured out I needed a way to do this so I could make pattern pieces with different curved lines fit together was measuring tape or yarn. Both will work, but I am going to share my secret weapon: pipe cleaners. Pipe cleaners are so much easier to work with! once you cut or fold them down to the size of the curved seam you measured, you can bend them into the new shape you want the second piece to be, trace it, and your seams will match perfectly! if you bend them instead of cutting them you can use them again and again! None of these extra items are necessary but if you only get one besides writing implement and paper I'd say pipe cleaners. Well, okay, pipe cleaners and a thing that lets you draw the seam allowance on easily, like my "two pencils taped together" method Almost forgot, it can be very helpful to have various sizes of objects you can use to trace circles on hand. Bowls, cups, spools of thread, whatever you have will work for something, it's just good to have it as a tool you can have in your metaphorical pocket when you need it

Hey y'all! I was thinking about trying to share how I create my own plushie sewing patterns, and I'm sure I'll figure out more things to share, but the first thing I start with (once I decide what I want to make) is figuring out what the limiting factors are for the final product

Frequently, the limiting factor is minimum size; there is a minimum amount of width each piece has to have to be able to be turned right side out, so for things like the ant and the giant frog, the narrowest part of the ant legs and frog toes were drawn so that they could be turned right side out, and the rest was scaled to fit Sometimes, the limiting factor is maximum size. For me, this is usually because I have a specific fabric I want to use for the project and only have so much of it left, and must make the pattern small enough to fit the fabric I have. Occasionally, though, the limiting factor size-wise is the construction technique I am using for the plushie. If I am creating something with a fairly flat pattern made of the same pattern piece cut out twice, like the eel, Fred the Fish of Minimal Effort, or either of my frog patterns' bodies, where I am not using darts or gussets to create three dimensions, my size is limited by the stretch of the fabric. It's totally fine to use the stretch of the minky/fleece/other fabric to create the 3D shape, just make sure to take into account that it will only stretch so much, and that to get maximum stretch you'd need to overstuff it (making a plushie less soft). Also keep in mind that depending on your fabric, stretching it in one direction might make it smaller in the other direction One final thing to keep in mind is that your seams will not stretch as much as the rest of your fabric. With stretchy fabric, you can sometimes choose where to put your seams so that you can shape the finished plush as much by where it doesn't stretch as by where it does (this is a thing I know I have done but I can't remember off the top of my head which plushies I used it in, I'll take a look and share a picture of them if I remember)

[batfossil-fr]

I’ve been really thinking of reopening my art shop soon… I’ve been taking some practice doodles (hence all the posting lately) while I shake off my rust and I’m finding things I enjoy working on again. I miss trying my hand at more dragons/OCs and colors. my shop’s so broken rn lmao but that’s a problem for a later date it’s just nice getting back into art

[minhmynchi]

a delete later wip so im turning off reblogs but yay my turn for a scene redraw