#she is so important. i need to draw her more so badly. i love her so much. there is something there i wanna dissect so bad but.

[trainingdummyrabbit]

white night angela

PARADISELOST ILU PARADISELOST MY BESTFRIEND PARADISELOST. genuinely one of my very top favorites despite how little i ever bring her up Ever. she is like... Everything 2 Me in a way im not quite sure i can describe. ok.

Design- GENDER. ok. the way that she looks so weightless, the hair thats reminiscient of feathers, the fucking. bloody angel look. the little snake around her shoulders!!!! come ON! something about the fact that her eyes are just about always closed again; and further than that, the fact that they only open during Attacks, in which they are completely flat red. hashtag girl. girl just LOOK at her. ok? ok. something about the collar is fucking me up but im not sure i can detail it.

Theme- i have TALKED ABOUT THIS MOTHERFUCKER!!!! the religion floor realization kills me to death and im never over it. the tangle of shepherd and lamb, leader and that who wishes to follow, savior and the damned. like... listen. something about her desperate desire to not be alone manifesting as some split between Her and One Of The Most Feared Abnormalities, in such a stark difference to how she usually acts where you cant really tell the lines between one and the other until you snap her out of it. how she manifests that which she wishes to have As Herself in conjunction with how she is completely convinced nobody would dare to stand with her. the image of complete and utter calm in the face of the turbulence that she clings onto like a lifeline despite it all. its quite literally all of her struggles pushed to an Extreme. this motherfucker is the reason i can never talk about anyone about angela without it being an hours long thing how the FUCK do you summarize this even. speaking with words that arent hers, yearning for someone to lead her to a happier place where she would never be alone again, to lead, to follow, to have, to take, to give. and still, despite it all, she is still just... confused, lost, and afraid. its something so shockingly simple for what a grandiose image thats projected of herself, and the conversation beforehand really drives it home. i will literally be here for hours. anyway if you want that other post its [here]; i dont think i could say it any better or differently or more youre just gonna have to take it ok. thanks.

in conclusion uh, i think she might actually be one of if not The one thats the most important to me? like... personally. ithink she was the first one i drew something Completely for, the one that kicked me into thinking abt her for hours on end every time she came up... something about her just kills me to death. shrimply. she is so very important. and most importantly: She Should Be Allowed To Kill.

[starkeygirlposts]

Boyfriend turned Step-Bro Rafe Cameron x Reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: You've been dating Rafe Cameron for 3 years, and one day Ward and your mom tell you they're getting married.

This is a snippet of a fic I'm going to see if I want to continue writing. Please let me know if you'd like it to be continued.

I'm not diving too deep on details or character traits in this, as it's just a blurb/idea for a full fic.

Trigger warnings: stepcest, underage, drugs, pregnancy

----

The Rafe Cameron who became your boyfriend when you were sixteen years old was not the Rafe Cameron who people referred to your step-brother at eighteen.

The complete opposite, really.

Your parents separated when you were in your sophomore year of high school, your dad moving across the country to California when he met his mistress on a business trip while you and your mom kept a tidy home. The affair nearly killed your mom, and she learned to lean on none other than your boyfriends dad.

Ward was the perfect fill-in for your mom for a while. She was just having a good time, she'd told you. "He occupies my mind Y/N, does that make me such a bad mom?" Like you being upset with your mother being however which way involved with your boyfriends dad was so out-of-this-world believable. Truth was, yes it made her a bad mom. Not just because it put you and Rafe in an uncomfortable position, but because you were struggling yourself after having your family as you knew it blown apart.

But she wasn't just "having a good time." Or rather, maybe she was having too good a time. Because on a Thursday evening at the Cameron's dinner table that you all had gathered for, Ward held your moms hand and told you all that they were getting married.

That day, your world fell apart, and Rafe started to become someone you soon would not recognize. Rafe's hand slipped from your thigh, gone the tender loving warm fingertips, drawing lazy hearts on your skin.

You looked over at Rafe before doing or saying anything to anyone else, and his eyes were higher than yours, connecting with his father's in an expression you could only imagine was pure hatred. Because Rafe could never live up to his father in any sense, and now he was taking away the one thing that kept his feet planted to the earth. Of course he was. You flinched when Rafe's chair scraped like nails on the tile flooring, as he darted from the table outside to his truck, leaving you to pick up the pieces. How badly you'd wanted to chase after him. But when your eyes connected with Ward's, the decision made for you.

You didn't even need to ask.

"Unless you want to live with your father in California, you and Rafe will stop whatever it is you two have going on." Ward had told you.

You looked to your mom as if she'd help you - feel some semblance of remorse for you. You'd met Rafe first. Three years ago. You'd been the only reason your mother even met Ward. But why should you be so surprised that what she wanted was more important than your happiness?

From that day, Rafe started slowly slipping from you. A hollow shell of the boy you loved so deeply and painfully. He'd drink himself to sleep every Friday and Saturday night, breathe cocaine on the other nights, and wave you off when you tried to ask him to slow down.

"Y/N, you want me to stop? To make you happy? What do you do anymore that makes me happy?" You'd touch his cheek and guide his head down to make his eyes meet yours, and you'd stare into them - hoping for a shimmer of your boyfriend to snap back and remember.

He'd shrug away from you, his hand brushing you off and leave you watching his back as he'd resume slowly killing not only himself, but you too. But his coldness didn't stop him from sneaking into your room past midnight to have sex with you. Not that you wish he'd stop, because you so badly craved his touch, eager for it any way he'd offer it. Mean, rough, kind, tender; you'd take any of him just to feel connected.

So when you'd texted Rafe to meet you in your room after dinner on Thursday night nearly one year after your world truly blew apart, hoping you'd get to him before the white powder did, he locked the door behind him and the black in his eyes told you he'd already gotten his fix. But your small hand came up to his chest as he approached you, seated cross legged on your pink floral bed spread, clutching the stick in your other hand. You looked up at him and when you locked eyes, he understood, because he took your hand from his chest and squeezed it in his own before leaning down to touch his lips to yours.

"I miss you, baby. My beautiful girl."

His breath was hot against your mouth, his scent so familiar and home to you. You couldn't stop the tears from falling from your eyes, your hand loosening from his hand to hold onto his forearm that connected to the fingers clutching your jaw tenderly but firmly in place, kissing you like he loved you again.

How badly you missed him, too.

"Rafe, please..."

Your hand falls and his breaks from your jaw, and you take this moment to capture his hand with your fingers and place the stick into his palm. His eyes break away from yours to look down at what you've given him, and you watch with tears streaming down your face as his brows furrow, his feet shuffling to back up and you brace yourself.

He doesn't do what you expect him to do, though. He stares so deeply down into his palm that when his eyes do reconnect with yours, confusion in his own eyes, his head tilting just the slightest and you're trembling, waiting for the shoe to drop.

"This...this is a -- you're..." His eyes screw up shut and he shakes his head like he's imagining things and he's crazy. "A baby?" He finally asks, looking up at you again and you can only nod.

"My baby?" He asks again, and you nearly scoff, because really? Was he kidding? Who else was sneaking into your room after midnight, invading your body and your thoughts?

"Yes, Rafe, I'm pregnant with your baby." You tell him, standing and he's still shaking his head, eyes bunching up as if he's being told the craziest thing in the world - because really, he is. But you've sat with this for the entire day and while your reaction wasn't as confused, you too felt the familiar disbelief.

You watch his chest rise and fall, deep breaths in and out before you're in a whirlwind and he closes the distance between you and pulls you to him, tucking your head underneath his chin, the back of your skull rested protectively in his large palm. His lips are at your forehead when he tells you

"I'm going to take care of it. They're not keeping me from my kid."

----

AH, what do you think? My ask box is open for feedback. Please feel free to use it to ask for what you'd like to see from this fic!

[magics-neptunes-things]

Baby Sister

Hi guys!

This one is from resquets, lot of them actually. I hope you will enjoy this ficlet :)

TW : Jealousy, secret relationship, Reader is Jenni Hermoso's little sister.

PART 2 IS HERE!

_____________________________________________________________

Being Jenni Hermoso’s little sister has always been a great pride for you. You wear your last name with great happiness and you have always attended all the matches you could see. You have never missed any of his important matches, whether with the Barça team or the Spanish national team. This summer, you even made the trip to attend each stage of the competition, until seeing her lift the trophy at the finale.

What happened after and around this victory, you’d rather not talk about. This story makes you green with rage and you sincerely believe that if you had faced these men at the end of the summer, things would have gone very badly.

Jenni now playing in Mexico, it’s obviously harder for you to go and see her play. You watch her evolve on the other side of the ocean thanks to VPN, what you find ridiculous, it’s your sister for God’s sake.

But you’ve been used to long distance relationships for a while now. Because your girlfriend doesn’t happen to live in Barcelona either. Leila has been playing for Manchester City since the summer of 2022, a few months after you two started dating. The long-distance relationship is clearly not something easy to manage, but your reunions are incredible every time. Now that Jenni is no longer in Barcelona, it’s easier for you to fly to Leila for a weekend in Manchester.

Yes, because Jenni obviously doesn’t know that you’re in a relationship with one of her friends. Former colleagues at Barça and in the Spanish national team, there is no need to draw a picture to know how you met. It took some time for you to get closer, you were long persuaded that Leila only saw you as Jenni’s little sister. Baby Hermoso, like most of Jenni’s teammates like to call you.

It’s not a nickname that bothers you, you know it’s affectionate and again it’s not something pejorative for you to be compared to your sister. You love her. Even though she tends to be very protective of you, scaring away all your girlfriends pretty quickly. No one is good enough for you in her eyes and even if you know that her goal is to protect you and to avoid the mistakes that she made herself, you must admit that it’s for this reason that Leila and you decided to remain hidden.

Lying or hiding things from Jenni is really not easy for you. You are used to telling her everything and you have sometimes picked yourself up at the last moment when you want to tell her an anecdote about something you saw or did with Leila. Luckily, you didn’t make any missteps in a year and a half, almost two years.

But the secret is starting to weigh you more and more. Being away from the two most important women in your life is difficult for you and you regularly find yourself with lower morale than usual. When Jenni asks you about it, you just tell her you miss her. Which is true, but not totally. It’s easier for you to talk about it with Leila, even if you don’t want to impose your moods on her.

With Christmas coming, Leila is back in Barcelona, just like your big sister. You managed to establish a schedule in the rules of the art, juggling between family meals and stolen moments with your girlfriend. You even managed to set up an afternoon with Ona, Leila and other friends you have in common. You even asked Alba Putellas to join you, but she already had something planned.

So, when Ona and her brother went back to their parents, Leila offered to take you home, which you obviously accepted. Except she stayed at your place to end the night between lovers, catching up on all the kisses, hugs and love whispers you’re late for. You could spend hours with Leila, hidden under your sheets, exchanging confessions between two kisses.

********

It was between Christmas and New Year’s that Jenni asked you to have lunch and an afternoon with her. If her proposal obviously excited you, you found yourself hesitating when she told you she wanted to invite Leila to join you. It’s been a while since they met again and Leila apparently misses her. And since you two are getting along, Jenni thought it was a good idea to bring people together.

If only she knew how well you two get along…

From the exchange of messages that you had with Leila to talk about this, you realized that the situation seems to amuse your girlfriend more than anything else. It helped you see things in a different light. Maybe there’s no reason to worry, after all?

You’re the last arrived in the restaurant Jenni picked, both brunettes already sitting at a table. You have no trouble spotting them, it would have been difficult to do it anyway with Jenni’s great gestures. You approach Leila to hug her, giving her a stern look when her hand is dangerously low on your hip. Then you put a kiss on your sister’s cheek, which makes you sit next to her before grabbing a lock of your hair.

"Since when do you have red streaks?" laughs your sister

You shrug your shoulders and get rid of your jacket to place it on the back of your chair. The facility is already pretty full and people don’t seem to pay too much attention to your table. A good thing for you.

"Since yesterday"

"It suits her well I think"

Jenni looks at you for a few more seconds before smiling and nodding. Just like her, you have very dark hair, but your eyes are more on gray than on brown like those of Jenni. When you turn your attention to Leila, she winks at you and you find yourself blushing slightly while smiling.

The discussion between the three of you goes rather well in the end and after you go to choose tapas, you relax completely. The laughter burst and you spend a pleasant moment with the two brunettes.

Between two tapas, you grab your phone to open whatsapp and show a message from your mother to Jenni to show that you are right about something. Honestly, you can’t even say why it was, as the subject is quickly forgot when another conversation seems to have caught your big sister’s eye.

"Who is the lion?"

"What?"

You’re trying to quickly put your phone in your jacket pocket, because you know exactly what Jenni is talking about. Instead of saving Leila’s full name, you inserted a lion emoji and an emoji with a burning heart next to it. You find it cuter and it saves you a little today. But not as much as you would have liked.

No doubt thanks to her reflexes worked during training, Jenni managed to grab your phone before you put it away, hurrying to change her hand to get away from you.

"Jenni give it back to me" you half get up and try to take it back.

In front of you two, Leila looks at you with big eyes, without really knowing what to do. Luckily you never call yourself by your first names. And luckily too, you tend to send yourself photos through other apps.

"I miss you, I can’t wait to find you" starts reading Jenni out loud, frowning. "I count the days before I see you again… Who is this girl?"

When Jenni turns to you, you manage to take the phone out of her hands and put it away from her. Your cheeks are so red we could probably bake eggs on them.

"No one" you grunt carrying your glass to your lips.

"Well if that’s nobody, I don’t dare imagine what the messages with your girlfriend are" laughs Leila.

You almost strangle yourself with your drink and Jenni doesn’t seem to blame you to the point of letting you die on the spot since she gives you little pats on the back. On the other hand, you shoot your girlfriend with the look by seeing her drive the nail.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" asks Jenni, eyebrows still frowned.

You sigh softly and hesitate a split second before answering. After all, she doesn’t need to know who it is, right?

"Yes" you simply answer, giving her a look of challenge.

Jenni supports your gaze, obviously, and you feel the questions swirling through her head. You don’t know what you’ll get first.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" your older sister asks.

"Because you drove away all the last ones I’ve been with" you answer, rolling your eyes.

"Oh right away the big words…" sighs Jenni, even if her amused smile proves her guilt.

A few seconds pass and you naively hope that this will be enough for Jenni as information for the moment. Maybe the fact that you’re with Leila will hold her back from pushing things too hard and getting other information out of you.

"How is she?"

It’s Leila’s voice which resounds however and you return once again a dismayed look in her direction. She’s supposed to help you, not the other way around. However, when you answer that it’s not her business, Jenni insists by asking you the question in turn.

"She is kind, she is attentive and understanding" you end up answering, a deeply upset look displayed on the face.

"Is she pretty?" asks Leila

"Obviously" you snort.

In front of you, Leila seems to be having a great time. And if you think that you may laugh about it later, currently you can’t help but think that you intend to make her pay for it later.

"Is she a good kisser?" continues Leila.

"Wow no, I don’t want to hear the answer to that question" Jenni steps in with one hand up. "I can’t believe it, you’re still a baby."

You roll your eyes sighing, hearing the moan in the voice of your big sister. You’re almost eight years apart, but she sometimes has a hard time forgetting that you’ve been fifteen almost ten years ago.

"I’m 25, Jenni" you point out, but this information seems to fall on deaf ears.

"Wait, is that the girl from your job here? Aida?"

"Who is Aida?" asks Leila

This time, the fun left your girlfriend’s voice and face. This makes you shudder from the inside, the main flaw of the brunette being undoubtedly her jealousy. This has already highlighted some tensions between you, but you have always been able to communicate in order to avoid too much conflict.

"It’s nobody" you respond quickly to Leila, to whom you have already mentioned her existence, you are almost sure of it. "And no, it’s not Aida. Can we change the subject now, please?"

Groaning in her beard, Jenni finally accepts your request, even if she specifies that you pay nothing to wait. You roll your eyes again and peck the last crumbs on your plate while Jenni apologizes to go to the toilet.

As soon as she has her heels turned, you feel Leila leaning in your direction.

"Who’s Aida?" asks the brunette again.

You sigh softly and shift your attention to Leila. You’re relieved that your sister went to the bathroom quickly after that, or you know that your girlfriend would have had her blood blown out until you two were alone.

"One of my colleagues Babe, I already told you about it" you answer in a low voice, leaning mechanically too in her direction.

Leila answers nothing, content to look at you at length with her black eyes, arms crossed on her chest. She’s too far away for you to catch her hand, so you try to keep eye contact with her.

"Leila stop, we already discussed it. You have no reason to be jealous"

A few seconds pass during which Leila seems to pass you to the X-ray using her eyes. Time seems to last you a little too long, you end up arching an eyebrow in her direction.

"And excuse me, but if one of them should be jealous, it’s me. You’re the one who’s tactile with all your friends and you’re the one who’s got edits of your person on TikTok. Not me."

You see Leila’s face relaxing under the effect of her surprise. You’ve never mentioned these two things until now and this may not be the best time to do so since your older sister was reappearing next to you two. She seems surprised by your two sulky faces and your similar position, your arms crossed on your chests.

"Uh… is everything okay?" she asks while sitting next to you.

You nod your head while Leila just grunts for a simple answer.

"I have to go." You suddenly decide "See you before you go, right?"

Jenni answers yes, probably a little surprised by your quick departure. She stands up in turn to put a kiss on your cheek and take you in her arms.

"Do you need a ride? Where are you going?"

You know perfectly well that Leila’s question is not innocent but on the other hand the kindness and helpfulness of the brunette alone could explain the proposal. But, on your side, if you had to describe yourself in one flaw, it’s impulsivity. You prefer to talk about spontaneity, but that’s why you find yourself answering her sarcastically

"Seeing Aida, what else?"

The flash of anger and jealousy passing through Leila’s face is very fast, but visible to you. And apparently to Jenni as well.

Still standing, Jenni lets go of a surprise exclamation before pointing at Leila.

"It’s you!"

"Huh?" Leila replies, turning to Jenni, having forgotten for a split second her presence.

"The lion and the burning heart! It’s you!"

"She puts a burning heart next to the lion?"

Leila’s question makes you hit your forehead with your hand. It’s a disaster. She could have responded positively to Jenni’s question that it would have come back to the same thing.

Your sister remains silent for a long time, her gaze passing from Leila to you many times. She opens her mouth several times before finally finding the words that dare to suit her. For your part, your heart rate is so high that you wonder if your heart is not trying to come out of your chest.

"Why didn’t you tell me before?"

You sigh softly, leaning against the bench on which Leila is installed.

"I told you. You traumatized all my last girlfriends Jenni, I’m sure some of them even changed countries after you finished talking to them. I didn’t want this to happen this time."

You feel Leila’s gaze rise on you, you have after all just confided that this relationship is important to you.

"Your ex-girlfriends were selfish first-league idiots" grumbled Jenni rolling her eyes at her turn. "I know Leila isn’t"

You pout a little before shrugging. You’re not sure that if she hadn’t faced the fact her reaction would have been the same. If you had told her about your relationship with Leila when it took place, you are convinced that things would have been different.

"How long has it been?" keeps asking Jenni.

"A year and a half" answers Leila for you.

The information seems to surprise your sister as she bows her eyebrows at you. You mumble an excuse and shrug.

"Well, it doesn’t look like I have a something to say anyway" sighs Jenni as Leila pulls you by the arm to make you sit next to her.

You let yourself be willingly, the revelations of the last minutes making you forget that you managed to argue while Jenni went to the toilet. Jenni sits down again, looking at you carefully, before pointing again at Leila.

"You’re my friend Leila. But I swear to God, if you hurt her, you’re still six feet under."

[sweptawayghost]

Light My Fire PT.1

PAIRING: Joel Miller X Reader

DUEL POV

Word count 6.8K 

CHAPTER WARNING: male masturbation, mentions of alcohol, age gap, mention of guns, slow burn, pov,flirting, friends to lovers, mentions of choking, angst, fluff

Series summary: Joel Miller is down bad for the first time in a long time. After him and Ellie arrive and settle into life in Jackson, Joel is itching to get out. He becomes your patrol partner but he could be so much more if you give him the chance. 

This will be a slow burn 

Anything written in italic indicates someone talking to themselves

Hello anyone who cares enough to read this!

So I had previously written two parts of a series I was planning titled “In Dreams” . Since then I have decided I want to change how I write this and have decided that a good old fashioned POV would be more enjoyable to write. So this will be the main series but I will leave my previous works up. if you have already red my first part of In Dreams you don't really need to read this one but i have changed a few things

Thank you for reading and as always your feedback is appreciated!!!!!

///

Joel Miller was down bad. 

He found himself wondering how far too many times. He was sure he'd sworn off love and romance but then there you were. With your toothy grins and your warm palms. Eyes that made him feel safe and seen. 

Your laugh filled his ears and swelled his heart. He would do anything to be in the same room as you, he would move where you move, he would go where you go, He could listen to you talk about anything and nothing as long as you kept looking at him and laughing at his stupid jokes. 

He wishes he could tell you right now how badly he wanted you. He wishes he could let you know how important you were to him, how he would move mountains if it would make you smile. 

He hoped you would see how much Ellie loved you.

Joel saw the spark return to her eyes thanks to you. He loved that you cared about her so much, as if she was the most precious and fragile thing in the world. 

How you fed her, brushed her hair for her. You happily opened your home to her when you knew Joel would be gone for a night or just to make sure she wouldn't be alone. 

There were just certain things that Joel couldn't provide for Ellie. But He knew you could. He wanted you to be in her life regardless of how he felt for you and how you felt for him. How do you feel about me? 

///

JOEL

I draw my eyes down to the half drunk glass of whisky that rests lazily in the palm of my hand. 

The late afternoon light comes flooding in through the doors as a young man runs into the bison and jumps behind the bar and through to the kitchen. The chill of the fall air sweeping in alongside the light. 

I've always liked fall. I loved the feeling of the warm sun pouring down on me in the mornings and the burning numbness in my fingertips when the sun begins to set and the chill of night starts breathing down my neck. I loved the way the leaves changed and morphed into shades of a fire, I liked how delicate they seemed, ready to be swept away at the slightest gust of wind. I loved the way the earth smelt, especially when it rained. 

I loved the way the earth started to soften and sink, It made it easy to track. Rain brings water and water is a lifeline. 

It was also nice to see the town prepare for the cold months that were about to come. People up on the roofs of their homes, cleaning gutters, fixing shutters and patching broken windows, salting meat and tanning hides, pickling and preserving anything they could. Preparing the green houses, people dragging bags of soil and horse shit to the doors, weeding, turning soil. People worked steadily but they never seemed rushed, as if there wasn't a sense of urgency or an immediate threat looming over their heads everyday. Sometimes it just seemed like a normal, sleepy, small town. In a normal world. On a normal day. 

I move my eyes to my brother sitting across from me, even though he's right in front of me I feel a million miles away from him. It makes me a little sick to see how unfair the years have been to him. It might also just be because I just never envisioned him this old before. I always saw him how he was when he was twenty. So full of life, happy, electric, even when he shouldn't have been, it probably would have saved him from getting into a few scraps back in the day and it would have saved me from a bloodied nose when I had to step in and help him. 

Now he looks… sad

Distant, cold and old. His eyes that once lit up with fire now sunken and barely an ember burning in the night. I wish he was fatter as well. It would probably make me feel better for not being there for him, for letting him endure all that he has without my help. Maybe I shouldn't blame myself. Afterall, he was the one who left. 

I still wouldn't trade him for the world. 

“So your patrol partner…” Tommy's voice pulled me back into the moment. The door swings shut with a soft thud and suddenly the sound of patrons and chatter fills my ears again.

A million miles away

“You’ll like her but…” he trails off looking down into his own glass, the lights in the bison were low and warm, it felt like a hug, it felt warm it also made everyone seem warmer and more alive, more vibrant. 

Tommy let the corners of his mouth turn upward, almost smiling “ She’s shy, she's real weary of new people so no offence intended” he stated, pulling his glass up to his lips and sipping its content. 

No offence intended?

“Is that your subtle way of tellin’ me she a bitch?” I raised an eyebrow at my brother and let my eyes roam over to the door again as it swung open, letting in more fresh air that settled on my forehead that I didn't realise was burning until now. 

“Some would say” is the only reply he was offered

Some would say. 

But Tommy wouldn't. 

Now Tommy may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but I trust him when it comes to people. He seems to have an inapt ability to tell when someones genuine and when someones about to fuck you over.  I trust him with this one. I wouldn't trust him to set a trap, or to wake up when he was told to. I wouldn't trust him to drive a tractor in a straight line and I wouldn't trust him to borrow and return my tools no matter how many times I remind him. But this I can trust him with. 

“She's good quality” He continues “if she asks you some out of pocket shit it means she likes ya” another smile threatens to bleed across his face “ And if she treats you like you're stupid then she really likes ya” He throws the rest of his drink down his throat before dropping his glass back down to the table. 

I let the side of my mouth curl up with his words, knowing exactly what he means before I pull back the rest of my drink.

///

As I walked home that afternoon I thought about how surreal everything felt. It sometimes felt like I was watching a movie or tv show and not actually living this life. 

Tomorrow I’ll be going out on patrol with a new partner. Tommy had taken me out a few times teaching me the ropes, not that it was necessarily complicated work and while I knew after a while I would be placed with a new partner I was worried. It was easy with Tommy, we would communicate so much with only the nod of a head, we knew each other's limits, no need for small talk or to fill the air with unnecessary chatter because some people can't sit with silence. 

Tommy knew exactly what button to push when it came to me. This was a blessing and a curse, especially given that I knew exactly how to push back. 

I’m not scared of new people… but I am scared of stupid people, im scared that this person will crumble under pressure and fuck up. What if they make a stupid move that costs me my life, what if they leave me for dead, what if they don't know how to turn the safety off their gun because they've never had to point it at anything. 

 I filled my time in between patrol shifts with Tommy by completing handyman duties, fixing things made me feel useful, like I wasn't so much of a burden and I was earning my keep at least. Not like there was a shortage of jobs around here, it seemed like there was always something to do, patch up a fence, sweep out a barn, fix a hinge on a door, one of the women even asked me to come over and clean her pipes, I told her I wasn't qualified for that kind of work, the sexual innuendo not lost on me, just didn't wanna give it up for a woman who thinks that a cheesy line like that would work on me. 

I just kept on moving from one thing to the next, I couldn't slow down. I didn't want to slow down because that would have given me time to think. 

A small group of five or six kids runs past me in the street grabbing my attention and pulling me out of the mental nightmare I was about to fall into.

Sometimes it's hard to believe that we are here, that the threats of the outside seem like a distant memory and that we don't have to fight tooth and nail to make it to the next day. 

This notion also made me feel uneasy. I feared what this would do to me over time, letting myself relax and letting my guard down. When we arrived, Tommy asked that I surrender my pistol, only temporarily until I “acclimated”. Tommy and big words aren't a usual mixture, it's kind of like putting hot sauce on vanilla ice cream. Without my gun I felt naked, like I have no means of defence, even now as I walk down the street I feel the absence of its weight on my hip. 

I wasn't used to people smiling at me as I walked past them, I wasn't used to women smiling at me when they walked past my house,sometimes 3 times a day. I wasn't used to finding ‘ready to cook meals’ at my doorstep when I came home and I wasn't used to small tokens and gifts left on the front doormat, books, notepads, pens, paper clips and rubber bands, thumb tacks, shoe laces, toilet paper. Almost insignificant things, but now seem like so much more. 

///

I Woke up with that feeling in my chest… again. like a high calibre bullet has blasted through me for only a moment. For a moment, I'm back in the basement. I'm on the freezing concrete floor laying on top of a barely there mattress and my back is so sore I feel like I'll never be able to get up. For a moment, there's a pain in the left side of my abdomen and it hurts worse than the feeling in my chest and the pounding feeling in my head. For a moment… 

I open my eyes letting the blue hues of the morning sky flood my vision as it spills in from between my curtains and paints itself on my walls and ceiling. I try not to let my mind go there. I try to keep those memories packed away. I try to save them in case…  Well, I don't know right now, but I know that thinking about it isn't going to change it.

 I pull myself up and hang my feet off the side of the mattress, rubbing small circles into my chest to try alleviate the pain that's decided to set up camp there. 

I let reality wash over me again. 

I'm safe. I'm okay.

As if those words should make me feel better, as if I deserve to feel that way after everything I've done. 

In the time since Ellie and I have arrived I've set up a routine for myself. I need to keep busy and I need to keep moving. Get up. Get dressed. Get to it. Coffee has entered my life again and like a toxic lover I just have to keep going back for more. I don't know how I ever lived without her, she's the devil in disguise, she's dark and deep, while the instant stuff was nothing compared to the real shit, but i couldn't love it any less. 

In the weeks that Ellie and I spent getting settled into the house, I quickly learnt all the creaks and cracks the house made as you moved through it. On really windy days it was almost like it was breathing with the way it groaned against the wind.

I pulled open the front door, pushing my shoulder into the wood as I pulled it back so the swollen wood wouldn't make too much noise when I pulled it away from the door frame.  It's funny how every sound seems like it's amplified when the suns not out. I whirl my head around to look up the staircase, I can see Ellie’s bedroom door from where I stand, the blue light casting the whole house in a dream-like shade of blue. In a few hours she'll (hopefully) be up and well on her way to school. 

I know it's definitely not her favourite thing and trust me I think school for the most part is a waste of time but I have seen her hand writing and i've seen her try to stitch up a wound and I doubt that she could point out which berries are safe to eat and which ones will turn your insides to gravy. 

Unlike the QZ, this school would actually be helpful to her. Besides all that… she needs friends, she needs connection, she needs to feel safe and not just with me. 

Stepping onto the front porch with socked feet I let the steam of the coffee swirl around my face and inhaled the chilled morning air. The streetlights glow softly on Jackson's main street, a few blocks aways from the place I now call my home. I hear the soft murmuring of people start to make their way into the mess hall for breakfast before starting their daily assignments. It reminded me of before. 

When Ellie and I arrived back in Jackson for good we didn't have much more than the clothes on our backs, we both smelt to high heaven and my feet felt like they were going to fall off, my face hurt from squinting my eyes and my lips were cracked and bloody. When I looked at Ellie I felt my heartbreak, as much as I was hurting I knew she was hurting ten fold. She looked so defeated. 

The community had put together something of a welcome basket for us. The house was stocked with towels and sheets, the wardrobe had some clothes in it, t-shirts and a winter jacket as well as some thick socks, the ones I wear now. A pair of jeans, underwear and even some shorts… I will never trust a grown man who willinging wears shorts.

Ellie got more or less the same items, even a few dresses which remain discarded in the back of her wardrobe, finally she got a new pair of shoes and not those shitty canvas ones that would leave her feet soaked to the bone. 

Soaps, toothbrushes and toothpaste, lip balms, conditioner and shampoo, razors, a hair brush and a comb. All such simple items which now seem like they are worth their weight in gold.  The bars of soap were imperfect and misshapen, the toothpaste came in a powdered form in an old glass container that looked like it once housed a candle or some kind of ointment. So many of the clothes had holes that had been patched over and mended in some way, same with the sheets and towels. 

The items and all their imperfections made them even more special. Handmade and hand mended. Someone cared enough to see the potential in salvaged items that were otherwise discarded and left behind. 

I remember that first shower I had. 

I wanted to cry

Maybe I did cry, it's hard to tell. 

I remember how it felt. Human, warm, like I was wanted, like someone was holding me and stroking my skin with a thousand fingertips. I wasn't just having a shower, I was washing away all the blood that had dried in the cracks of my skin, I was washing away all the grime that clung to me like a stubborn headache, the sweat, the guilt, the tightness in my chest that I knew would be there tomorrow when I wake up but in the moment it felt like it was gone forever.  

I felt guilty taking so much when I had taken away so much already. You have to stop thinking that. 

I can almost imagine the last twenty years were just a really bad and vivid nightmare as I stand in the crisp air of the morning. The neighbourhood starts to stir and begins to breathe to life before the sun makes its way over the hills. I close my eyes and drag in a breath and release it as I drop my chin to my chest. The sound of gravel crunching under foot, muted conversations and the sound of my neighbour walking around the upper level of their home. All familiar sounds, now alien. 

I crane my neck from side to side to relieve some pressure from the ache that lives there.

When I look down at the woolly socks that cling to my feet I notice a growing hole in the right foot, where my big toe lives, the pad on the heel also beginning to thin out, ready to throw in the towel any day now. Shame, I thought to myself, I really liked these socks. 

///

I make my way down to the gates of Jackson. I remember Tommys words from yesterday “If she treats you like shit she really likes you” 

I'm not one to shy away from a challenge, I like straight forward people but you have to be careful it doesn't fall from being blunt to being an asshole, I like to think I've perfected that. If this new partner of mine wants to believe that she's better than me because, what? She’s been here longer? She knows the routes better? that’s fine but if she fucks up and makes a fool of herself I’d be very happy to give her the reality check she needs. 

I pass a few friendly faces as I walk down the street, offering a wave because that's the neighbourly thing to do. Neightbourly. The concept seems odd when you've seen the things we have. 

Arriving at the gates I never expected to see you. 

In fact you were probably the last thing I would have expected to see on patrol at all, you looked so… young. Like the world hadn't gotten its claws into you yet. 

your face held no expression as you looked straight ahead at me, actually it was more like you were looking through me.

 Your face looked fresh and warm, your lips looked so soft, your cheeks all rosy from the chilled air. The sweater you wore swallowed you and a few strands of hair fell into your face as you moved towards me. 

You looked serious but when I looked into your eyes I could tell you were soft. 

You were a hell of a lot younger than me that's for sure and I began to imagine how you Were before all this.

What are you like now?

Would you leave him bleeding out in the woods?

Would you be one of those chatter boxes that would rather spew bullshit than shut it? 

Have you ever killed someone?

Have you ever killed infected?

What do you sound like?

Oh shit her mouth is moving she's talking to me.

“I'm sorry what?” I say, I must look stupid, was I staring at her? You're holding out a leather strap to me and for a second I thought you were holding a hand out for me to shake, the reins dumbass, take the reins from her hand. Feeling like I've just woken up from a fever dream, I now see that you're holding the reins of two horses as well as two rifles slung onto one shoulder and your backpack on the other. 

“Your horse” you say to me lifting your brows with a weak smile, your arm still outstretched with the reins in your clutch. 

I take the worn reins, feeling how the leathers have been softened by the warmth of your hand. 

You slide one of the rifles off your should as well, handing it over to me 

“You a decent shot?” my voice came out in a low whisper, still thick with sleep. 

You let out a small huff as you readjusted your backpack and rifle before climbing onto your horse. Without saying a word you gave him a look that said hurry the fuck up and lets go. 

///

Tommy was right, you were shy.

You didn't say much, not even offering me your name. 

You seemed capable, you took the lead on the trail, you checked out the weapons, you saddled the horses, god you even packed extra food incase I forgot to bring some. 

You were prepared. 

Oh god I hope she doesn’t think I'm some useless trigger happy lug head.

You had taken the lead on everything. Normally I'm the one to prepare, I'm the stoic one, I'm the one taking the lead. God, is Jackson making me soft. 

I felt my every move was under a microscope. Like you were watching and waiting for me to fuck up. 

Every so often I could get a glimpse of your face, your soft expression, your eyes that dart back to find me, eventually you slowed your pace and walked your horse next to mine. Neither of us make an attempt at small talk. Good, can you think of anything worse than “how the weather?”, “who did you have to kill to be here?”, “ouch you lost your parents, yeah so did 80% of the people who live in jackson” bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

Periodically I would see you looking at me but you never met my gaze, always turning away as if I didn't see. You made me feel… sweaty, nervous like I want you to like me.

“I want you to like me” seriously grow up Miller what are you fourteen. You've working together not in an arranged marriage. You didn't even tell me your name until we were several hours into the shift and communication became necessary. 

“Im Joel by the way”  you responded with a look that said yeah I know dumb ass.

For years I've been the quiet one, I've been the muscle, I've been the protector, I've been the lead. Now here you stand in front of me with your arms folded over your chest, cocking a brow looking extremely unamused at me. I towered over you, somehow I've never felt smaller. I felt like a side salad to a steak. I was the supporting act after years of being the main attraction. 

Patrol was uneventful, I tried to stay out of your way and when you told me to jump I asked how high. You held my gaze for a bit longer now and an odd feeling stirred in my stomach when you did. I started to notice small details on you, cuts, scares, bruises, broken finger nails, small patches on your jumper where you had mended it time and time again refusing to leave it behind. The way you adjust your backpack periodically cracking your back as you did so. I liked the way you smelt when you walked close to me or when the wind changed direction. Jasmine.

Small things. Insignificant thing that told me a lot about you.

I wonder what you noticed about me. 

///

I wanted to look at you more. Almost like I want to press pause and study you uninterrupted. That's not creepy joel.

You still held a stony expression when we approached the gates, while I felt relieved to get out of your presence I also liked the way I felt around you. 

You held your hand out to me and for the second time today i find myself zoning out and getting lost in your eyes, your expression doesn't change and oh shit she's talking again 

“Say that again” 

“The horse, Joel” 

God my name never sounded so good coming from someone's mouth.

I look down and see your hand stretched out towards me. 

“Unless you wanna hold my hand” a small smile pulls at the corner of your lips 

Oh god she smiled at me, that's so cute.

I drop the leather strap into your hand, a lazy half smile sits on my face because you smiled at me. She's starting to walk away, say something back, think of something. Anything. 

“Do you need help getting back or do you think you've got it under control?” you ask, turning over your shoulder slightly as you start towards the stables. 

“Im good” my voice cracked slightly from the lack of talking. I could be embarrassed but I'm not, the flutter of your lashes as you looked up at him, the hushed toe of your voice, the plumpness of your cheeks, I don't care how I sounded. 

As I stood watching your walk away I thought about Tommys words again.  “If she treats you like shit she really likes you” 

God, I've never wanted to be treated like shit so bad.

///

“How was it?” Tommy had asked me as he honed in on the bowl of stew, he held it close to his chest as if someone would swipe it from him if he didnt. 

“It was fine” yeah fine in the way that she doesn't even need me there and she gives me a weird feeling in my stomach. 

Tommy raised his eyes from his meal, he rested the bowl on the table with one hand cupping the warm porcelain and the other reaching out for his beer. “Really? Just fine” I've known my brother long enough to know when he's leading me. “Nothing interesting happen that you wanna tell me about?” what the fuck is he getting at?

“Yeah Tommy we had so much fun, we sang songs and picked flowers and braided each other's hair” I spat out “what are you getting at? Nothing happened” Tommys expression didn’t change at my words, the lopsided grin still smeared on his face. 

“It's just that you haven't wiped that smirk off your face since you walked in” 

“Fuck off, tommy” 

///

The next morning came and I didn’t feel as tired as I normally do, my back didn't hurt as bad as I expected it to and the ache in my head reduced to a light fog. My mind felt quiet, almost like all the shouts and screams were happening a mile down the block and not right in front of me. 

I chalk it up to patrol, having something that occupied my mind, something to keep me sharp and it definitely didn't have anything to do with you. 

Get up. Get dressed. Get to it. 

Once I made my coffee and slung the door open as quietly as I could , I returned to my spot on the porch. Once again I closed my eyes and hung my head. Absorbing the noise around me. I opened my eyes for a moment, noting the sharp bit of cold on my big toe, that holes gotten bigger. I close my eyes again. 

Music, the crunch of stone under foot, the shower running from inside the house, the neighbour walking around the second floor next door. I wonder what I'll do today, probably preparing for winter like everyone else. I should go get some food, make a nice dinner for Ellie, and I should try talking to her, make sure she's okay.

“Morning Miller” like I'm being woken from a dream, I open my eyes.

“You busy today?” how the fuck do you know where live? 

///

When you told me you were taking me out of the walls I expected it to be more or less the same as yesterday, like we were filling in a shift for someone else. Instead you walked me to the opposite end of Jackson’s gates and through some poorly secured sheet metal in the fence. I should probably report this to Tommy, this isn't a disaster waiting to happen or anything.

You handed me a pistol and not just any pistol, my pistol. the one I carried halfway across the country with and the one I reached for more times then I can count. The same one I killed with. The one that Tommy had taken from me when I arrived. Was he setting it aside for me? Did he know about your “unofficial patrol” runs? The trails look almost overgrown, like it doesn't get walked often, branches cover parts of the track and the leaves hang low from the trees overhead. Fire

I can feel the sun beaming down on my back leaving a sweat patch right between my shoulder blades and beads of sweat form along my hairline. You walk alongside me, a long sleeve shirt hangs loosely from your form, your hair pushed back behind your ears, although some pieces fall into your face. 

Today felt lighter, the cold air filled my lungs, the sun poured down on me, my pack felt lighter, the weight of the pistol on my hip felt right and the throbbing in my knees felt like no more than a tickle.   

I like the way you smell, even though you said you stank. I liked the way you looked at me, it didn't matter if you were smiling or not.  

“Why did you invite me out today?” I turned to look at you to find your eyes already on me. “Given how talkative you were yesterday” I continued “and does Tommy know we’re out here?”

I hear a laugh escape your lips and when I look over at you you're smiling at me again. The way the sunlight lights up your eyes and makes you look like you're glowing is overwhelming. You look back down at the trail. You adjust your backpack and crack your back, the same way you did yesterday. 

“You seem good, Joel” I fix my eyes back onto the track ahead of me stepping over rocks and fallen branches. “I'm sorry if I came off rude” you continue “In a world where women like me are beaten down, stolen away, used and left for dead…” you stop, eyes firmly fixed on the toe of your boot. You seem so small when the next words come out. 

“I want people to see me as a threat before they see me as anything else" 

///

“Will you walk me home?” you asked me as we approached the gates of Jackson. The possibility of spending more time with you made my heart thump in my chest, even with the ache in my back returning along with the throbbing feeling in my knee, I would walk you anywhere you wanted. Although if I get the chance another time I will make fun of you for asking. The mean little girl wants someone to walk her home. So cute. 

Our unofficial patrol ended when we found an old wood shed about a mile and a half from home. One infected. Taken out by you. We checked a trap out in the woods behind the structure that turned out to be empty. As you waltzed into the wood shed I scanned over the shelves that lined it, books scattered, pens and notepads, a pile of blankets thrown in the corner along with some clothing items, a large black drum sat next to the door, a hose running from the lid of the barrel to the roof. There was an old couch pushed up in the back corner of the shed as well. In the other shelves sat large containers, ‘STOCK’ scrawled across the front of a few of them.

Looking around the structure I soon realised that we didn't ‘find' the place, you were just coming back to it. “What the fuck is this pace?” I asked as you rummaged around in one of the boxes marked “STOCK” 

“Some of the kids call it the love shack” You looked over at me, amusement in your voice “but it's kind of like a supply station” you pull something out of the container and jam it into your bag before i can make out what it is “and yes Tommy knows all about this place” 

What's that tone? Mischief playing in your voice. Is she only saying that so I don’t tell Tommy? She's not that stupid. 

I followed you up your porch stairs taking in the exterior of your home. It's small, the front steps bow when you step on them from years or use. The paint on the weatherboards peeling and faded with time. The elements havent been kind to a lot of the homes in Jackson and I have spent a lot of time looking around thinking of all the things I would do if I had the resources. It didn't stop at my house either. Soon I was imagining renovating half the town.

Your front wire door looked like it was hanging on by a thread and one of the gutters and pipes that ran down the side of your house was all but rusted out. 

I stopped when I reached the top step, you shoved your front door open with your shoulder and knee, a practised move that I'm sure you've done hundreds of times before, knowing just the right angle to hit it at. 

Once the door swung open you shrugged off your bag and toed off your boots.

“Wait here a sec, okay?” and you disappeared into the house “I’ve got something for you” I hear you shout from somewhere inside.

I approached the front door but did not step over the threshold. Looking into your home felt like reading someone's diary or eavesdropping on a secret or walking in on someone changing. 

Books lay spread out on the ground next to the fireplace and on what he assumes is your dining table. Blankets draped over the couch and spilt out of a basket near the front door.

She told me to wait.

A day bed sits in the corner of your lounge room. A basket of yarn spilling out onto the floor along with a few half finished projects along with a tin full of sewing needles, pins, measuring tapes, scissors and a few different colours of thread. 

she didn't tell me not to come in but she also didn't invite me in.

The whole room was lit up in a soft orange glow from the afternoon sunlight pouring in from your kitchen window. It looked warm. It looked like a home. 

Why do I feel so dirty for looking. It's just her living room.

The image of you sitting here on this sofa popped into my head, a blanket wrapped up around your shoulders. Half asleep with a book in your hand while it rained.

I'm not doing anything wrong, I'm just looking.

Or layed out by the fire. The dancing flames lighting up your eyes and warming your soft skin making you glow in the otherwise dark house. 

“What are you smiling about?” you asked looking up at where I stood, a hand propped up on the door jam.

“Just lookin” my palms feel sweaty. You were just checking out her house, not her ass. Calm down Miller. 

I look down at the item you extend to me. It's a bottle, the label worn and water damaged. The seal on the top has been broken and the lid has dents and scratches, it looks like it's been pasted through a few other hands before it found its way into yours. Take the bottle you moron.

“Thank you, its real nice of ya” 

The bottle was filled with an amber liquid and as soon as I opened the lid and inhaled I could tell that this bottle of, what I can only assume is homebrewed bourbon didn't come cheap and didn't come around often.

Now, I didn't know it at the time but this would be the first of many gifts that you would bestow upon Ellie and I. 

The next thing you did for me was mend my clothes, including my favourite pair of socks that I was wearing that first day we met. 

After that I would be coming over and borrowing tools because my dumb ass brother never returned mine and then you would make a joke about needing a screw or asking how big my hammer was. Then you would teach Ellie to sew ‘a skill everyone should know’ you told her.

I would come over in the next few days and clean out the gutters before the storms started to roll in. I would rip out the rotting floorboards from your front porch and replace rusty nails. You would bring me homemade meals or fresh bread to which I would invite you in and you would never decline. 

I loved how you seemed to fit into the house that was meant to be mine, but you felt like a part of you was here even after you left. You would kick off your boots leaving them alongside mine and you would throw your jacket on the hook next to mine or throw it on the back of the couch. 

I didn't know it now but soon I would be teaching you chords on the guitar and swapping books with you. 

I would happily follow you out on more unofficial patrols, sometimes we would be gone for a few days at a time trying to find supplies in dilapidated barns and old properties that had fallen victim to time and the elements. Tommy did know about these little excursions, although he didn't know about the makeshift hole in the fence. I'm sure you got a slap on the wrist for that one.   

I would be coming over to your house to drag Ellie home when she was avoiding chores or trying to dodge school.

I just didn't know yet. 

“You need me to help you get home?” a bashful smile laced your face. I couldn't tell if you were just flushed from the warmth of your home or if you were blushing. 

You pushed past me in the doorway raising an arm and pointing a finger past my shoulder down the street. 

I let my eyes follow the outstretched arm. Seven houses. Seven houses and across the street was all that separated us. Fuck

“See ya neighbour” 

As I walked home I could feel the goofy smile that hung from my lips. 

I slowed my pace, observing the bottle as I went. Chatter in the streets picked up, people started to return from assignment to rejoin their families, others turning straight to the bison in favour of a drink. I listened to the distant sound of children laughing and playing in the streets. The sounds of a neighbourhood. 

///

That was the first night I dreamt about you, it was the first night you pulled me out of a bad dream. It was the first night that I went to sleep with your face at the front of my mind. When I woke up in the middle of the night you were the first thing I thought of. When I closed my eyes and pulled my cock out of my boxers I saw you and when I started jerking myself off I saw you. Fuck i feel dirty. I couldn't stop myself even if I tried. I saw your smile and the strands of hair that stuck to your face. I pictured you laid out by your fireplace, bathed in an orange glow with my hand around your throat as you moaned my name.  

Just once, get it out of your system. She’s attractive, I'm only human. It's fine. 

I let myself imagine all the things I would do to you. Because in the morning i wouldn't think about it again

Just once

I let myself imagine your tight pussy swallowing me up. I could almost feel your hot breath on my neck. I let myself imagine you on all fours and I let myself imagine you riding me on the couch in your living room.

Just once

I let myself imagine how your pussy would taste as I ate you out and I let myself imagine how you could sound as you came on my face, on my cock, on my fingers.

“Just once” I whispered to myself before I spilled onto my hand and sheets.

[fawnduu]

What was the moment when you was like "I wanna draw NSFW (Or more poetic: what was it like when you realized the beauty of lewd Art)

I discovered my love for drawing nude figures when I was 16 and my art teacher had recommended I go to live figure drawing sessions. The first session I was obviously very embarrassed but the nudity was so normalized in that space it felt super liberating and I just loved studying and drawing the nude models.

The desire to draw NSFW art came as soon as I was making my own romance comics. It was just a natural step in wanting to explore their character dynamics through how they like to have sex. Its really fun for me and I hate how taboo it is to depict it. Also the assumptions that can come with it.

I know some people do it as a "get rich quick scheme" like when people say "im gonna draw furry art so i can make money". I genuinely draw it because i love to do it. When I start a romance story one of the first things i start thinking about is "how would these two fuck?" its important to their relationship and also the ways in which they have sex and the character development happening within that. Like for instance sex plays such a integral role in Tys character. She uses casual sex as a way to feel like she has control and bury her vulnerablity and trauma. Ty needs therapy so badly but instead she goes into town and has sex with married women to get an ego stroke and steal from their husbands.

[voxmortuus]

Number 139. for Love Quinn xFem!reader please?

✧*̥˚ PAIRING: *̥˚✧ Love Quinn x F!Reader ✧*̥˚ UNIVERSE: *̥˚✧ You ✧*̥˚ WORD COUNT: *̥˚✧ 495 ✧*̥˚ PROMPT: *̥˚✧ From THIS prompt list: 139. “take off your underwear” - “but, there’s other people here” - “they won’t see you, there’s an entire table here” ✧*̥˚ TRIGGER WARNINGS: *̥˚✧ Public smut | Fingering in public | Reader hinting to public oral | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ✧*̥˚ NOTES: *̥˚✧ I will literally write for any character you send me prompts for; I love branching out! So, thank you for sending me Love Quinn! This was a nice break from ATJ and others. ✧*̥˚ DIVIDER CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @nyxvuxoa ✧*̥˚ IMAGE CREDIT: *̥˚✧ @tvandfilm ✧*̥˚ My Master Masterlist *̥˚✧

The restaurant was beautiful, but of course, it was, and with Love, you wouldn't expect anything less. This woman knew how to wow you, she knew what made you tick, she knew what got your gears going in a matter of words. She knew how to give you culture, she knew how to make you smile and laugh. She gave you butterflies and she very much knew she made you feel these things, but truthfully, you told her almost daily. Looking down at yourself you often wonder why she's with you, but she always reminds you that it's what's on the inside that matters more than anything. That is most important because you need to not think badly about yourself because she loves you for you, for all of you. For every curve bump and every imperfection, in her eyes, you are art.

Looking around you draw in a breath and bite on the bottom corner of your lip before you reach for your glass and take a small sip of your beverage you look over at her and smile. You admire her, the curve of her lips, the blue of her eyes, the soft feather-like strands of her hair. With a few blinks and a warm hand on your arm, you shake your head and smile.

"Shit, hi, yes, sorry… what?" you ask. "I was just admiring you. You're absolutely stunning tonight." you state softly.

"Oh please, you're the stunning one, but did you not hear what I said?" She asked.

You flush softly and shake your head. "No, sorry, I was too busy admiring you."

"I asked you to take off your underwear.” she smirks after stating so rather bluntly.

You bink a few times and look over her face and tilt your head, and you clear your throat and lean in… "Uhhhmmm… but, there’s other people here.” you give her a nervous chuckle.

Licking her lip she takes a sip from her glass and looks back at you. "They won’t see you, there’s an entire table here." she smirks.

You flush deeply and look around and you draw in a deep breath and look around again before you slip your dress up and you slip your panties off and put them in your purse. She watches you and smirks and she places her hand on your thigh and slides her hand up your thigh and smirks slipping her fingers between your legs to feel you.

You went to speak but she gave you a stern look and smirked as she started to play with your sensitive bud. You bite your lip and you let out a soft breath. To be honest, she wasn't going to care if the whole establishment heard you.

"After this, I'm getting under the table." You state boldly.

All she could do was chuckle and look over your face. "Good thing I never wear panties." She chuckled softly as she slipped her fingers into your warm dewy core.

[averyistired-62]

I know, I know... everyone LOVES Ellie. Every time I get on tumblr there's a couple posts I see where someone is talking about Ellie going down on them, or needing Ellie so badly it's not even funny (Dina please, give me a chance). People like what they like, no hate here. I love Ellie, too. Obviously not in the way that I'm writing about above, but I respect Ellie a lot. Ellie reminds me of me quite often. But I'm DYING to find more Dina content. I know there are writers and artists out there that have done a bit of Dina content in the past (and now) that I frequently check out because this woman is just... amazing. And I get it, Ellie is one of the main character in Part 2. But Dina plays an important role throughout the entire game; she's obviously not just Ellie's girlfriend, but she also serves as Ellie's moral compass and whatnot. She's kind of like how Ellie was for Joel in the first game; always trying to be the lighthearted one, making sure the Joel she knows is still there. I'm begging anyone out there who's artistically talented (not just writing wise, but also drawing, or whatever you artistically talented beautiful people call it) to point me in the direction of more Dina content. Dina is just perfect in every single way (I know all the characters in the TLOU franchise have their good and bad, I know Dina isn't perfect, I'm just trying my best to adequately describe the love and respect I have for her), and I'd do anything for her. I'm begging anyone out there to point me in the direction of more Dina content. Hardcore Dina stan right here, despite the fact that I only found one decent screenshot of her from my PS5. (I do check the dina #s on here daily and sometimes I find gems, but I just need more.

Anyway, that is all.

[thosewildcharms]

Hi:) thanks to twol I fell in love with richonne and im watching twd and I couldn't tell when exactly they fell in love when do you think it was? When did they realize it? (I feel like rick knew it long before her in that 6x10ep he was like "finally" when they kissed)

hi! first of all let me just say I love the fact that you started watching because of richonne lol THEIR POWER. how are you enjoying both shows??

second of all, thank you so much for asking me this question, because it is one of my favorite things to think about.

I'm gonna start with michonne because I think it's way more clear cut for her. I have always personally believed that she fell in love with rick when he bit the shit out of that guy joe's throat in order to protect carl (and michonne and daryl for that matter). danai recently said this as well, - that while this was a subconscious turning point for michonne. I think this tracks, considering the show goes out of its way to use this moment to draw a direct comparison between rick and mike, michonne's ex/dead boyfriend. in her scene with carl in the immediate aftermath of the bite scene, she tells carl that it's important to know how her first son died: because his father gave up, got high and was too weak and neglectful to protect his child. she, essentially, tells carl that rick is the exact opposite of that, and that he shouldn't think badly of rick because of what he did (and in turn, shouldn't think badly of himself either, which is lovely), that instead of thinking of rick as a monster, he should know that what rick did was necessary. for michonne to lose her first child that way, only to see rick find a way to protect his family with both hands (literally) tied behind his back? of course she fell in love with him then. that moment on the tracks with rick right afterwards ("I'm okay"/"I know"/"how?/ "because I'm okay too") is also a direct comparison to lori. lori was horrified when she learned that rick killed shane. michonne, by contrast, is just grateful. she does not judge him or look at him any differently. she just loves him for it. and the way danai played it, I think you can see it on her face in that scene.

I do agree with danai that this was subconscious for michonne until the scene on the couch in 6x10. the look on her face is such a blatant "oh" moment straight out of fanfiction that it's pretty clear (to me, anyway) that while she was already in love with him this was the first time she allowed herself to see it.

rick I think is a bit harder to pin down. it's well documented by pretty much everyone and their mother (including but not limited to: the richonne fandom, yvette nicole brown, norman reedus, andrew's lincoln's mom, etc) that rick was, at the very least attracted to michonne and looking her up and down as early as the prison. but, I think he fell in love with her when they reunited after the prison fell, when he saw that she was able to reach carl in a way that he himself could not. a long standing concern for rick at that point was trying to preserve what was left of carl's innocence, and it was something rick struggled with due to his own mental health issues/his responsibilities as a leader. so to see michonne break through to carl, and even make him laugh on the train tracks and act like a kid again? I think that was everything to rick.

rick basically, quite literally actually, asks her to co-parent carl with him at that point (the "if you need a break/I'm done taking breaks" scene), and from then on treats her not just as his equal within the larger the group, but as a co-parent in the smaller family unit between himself, michonne, carl, and judith. he makes decisions for the entire group based on her opinion and her needs (such as walking to washington solely because she asks him to, and then agreeing with her decision to trust aaron and go to alexandria). it's where the shift starts for him.

but, I'm also inclined to think that this shift was subconscious for rick too, up until the moment on the couch, or maybe just before it. I say this mostly do the jessie arc when they first get to alexandria, which while sloppily done, basically boiled down to rick projecting all of his unresolved lori-shaped guilt onto a lori-shaped stand in. I don't think he could be consciously aware of being in love with michonne until all of those issues were resolved. notably, richonne get together the episode right after jessie dies, so I think that tracks. I agree though, that the way andy played that moment on the couch be seen as a finally moment. so my best guess is that he consciously realized he was in love with michonne during the (two month? is that right?) time gap betweeen 6x09 and 6x10. you can see in the opening of 6x10 that rick, michonne, and carl are really overtly domestic and settled with each other, so I think it's totally plausible he was aware of his own feelings by that episode before the couch scene. BUT I also think an argument can be made for him also having his own oh moment on the couch too, the minute he touched her hand. I think that's debatable.

anyway, I'm so sorry for writing this novel lmao. when do you think they fell in love with each other?

[lookingfts]

One of my favorite stories of yours is a place to rest, amongst a multitude of yours that are really just fantastic reads.

How are those two doing today?

Thank you! I can’t believe I wrote that fic almost two years ago. Here’s a little glimpse into them now.

--

She always knew when Anthony had something on his mind. When he was tangled up in an issue at work, or one of his siblings was involved in drama (constantly), or his mum was going through a rough patch. That little dimple would pop in his forehead, his brows furrowed in concentration, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

“Everything okay?” Kate asked, running her hands through his thick hair. Anthony looked up, pressing his laptop closed, and flashed that warm smile that seemed exclusive to her.

Stretching out his hands, he tugged Kate into his lap, and she went willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yeah. I’m okay. Just thinking.” Drawing little circles on her hip, Anthony took a breath. “I’m glad you’re here, actually. There’s something I need to run by you.”

“Okay.” Even before they’d gotten married and officially merged their lives together, Anthony had sought her opinion on personal and business matters alike. He trusted her to tell him the truth, and even when they disagreed – sometimes passionately – they always managed to find a way forward.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Anthony said, deliberately as though he was searching for the right words. “And I want to buy Journey’s End from your mum when she’s ready to retire.”

The words soaked in slowly, and Kate blinked at him. “What?”

“I talked to Mary about it last weekend. She was thrilled. But I want you to be on board too.” His hand tightened on her hip, his expression so earnest that her heart skipped a beat. “I want it to stay in your family. Our family. Besides, it has sentimental value to me, too. It’s where I fell in love with my wife, you know.”

Kate laughed thickly, remembering the sad girl who hid behind her responsibilities to avoid living. Until a smug, rude viscount happened upon her corner of the world and turned everything upside down.

She didn’t even feel like the same person anymore. Maybe no one had it all, but Kate thought she was pretty close. A challenging but fulfilling career, a strong marriage, a solid relationship with her family. And even more incredible things on the way.

“We’ll hire people we trust to run it,” Anthony said quickly, mistaking her silence for hesitation. “We can be involved as much or as little as you want. Maybe one day our kids will want to be involved.” His hand rested on her stomach, only the smallest curve visible. None of their friends knew yet, and she could tell it was killing Anthony not to shout it from the rooftops. “It wasn’t your dream to run it. And I’m selfishly glad about that. But we could still keep your father’s legacy alive.”

Tears welled in her eyes, beading on her lashes. Kate had never faced a harder decision than walking away from the thing her father had worked so hard for. Accepting that following in his footsteps wasn’t the only way to honor his memory, especially if it was holding her back from what she was really meant to do.

But Anthony was offering her the chance to do both. To live her life in London, with him, while ensuring that her father’s dream wouldn’t fall into the hands of someone else. Someone who would never understand what it meant, would never see all the sweat and tears and love that lived within its walls.

There weren’t many men who would have known how important her father’s legacy was, but Anthony did. He knew better than anyone how badly Kate wanted to do right by him, even after he was gone. Especially after he was gone, and could only live on through her and Mary and Edwina. And, in six months or so, through their child.

“Are you sure?” she asked, tears spilling onto her cheeks now, and Anthony’s face softened as he brushed them away.

“Of course. I’ve already run the numbers on it. Plus, Mary could retire when she wants and not have to feel guilty. She’ll have the money to live off and know that it won’t just get torn down and turned into ugly flats.”

Taking her hand in both of his, Kate pressed a kiss to his knuckles, feeling almost incapable of containing the affection swelling inside her. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re happy?”

“So happy.”

“Good.” He kissed her, soft and tender, and she knew he felt the same. “I’m dying for chai, want some?”

She chuckled, brushing her nose against his. “Definitely.”

[it-hurts-because-it-mattered]

I will never understand people who are sympathetic to Emily Gilmore. She is constantly, unrepentantly, controlling, cruel, manipulative, emotionally abusive, and generally horrible, both to Lorelai and to anyone she considers socially beneath her.

The show does a truly wonderful job of nailing the human aspects of it; how it's not done out of malice, how she's following the rules of the society she lives in and what she truly believes is best, and how Lorelai rebuilds a relationship with her despite everything because there's still love there and now that Lorelai has the power to draw boundaries and stand up for herself, she decides she'd rather deal with some of it than not have her mother in her life. The show is already very sympathetic and supportive of Emily without defending her. But I see so many people truly take her side? So many people who say that Lorelai should respect her more, who think that everything financial Emily does for Lorelai means she should be happy and just put up with the expectations and not be a brat (especially around the loan and the remortgage). I just... I don't know, I just passed the end of Rory's Dance, and I feel like that's such a perfect microcosm of their relationship.

Emily gets everything she wants, she gets Rory to go to the dance, she makes her act like Emily's idea of a lady, she invites herself to stay overnight, she gets to look after her daughter (including Lorelai actively going along with things that make Emily feel like she's helping even if they're not what Lorelai needs), and she gets to feel a closeness that she's felt as a gaping lack since she visited for the birthday party. Then they wake up, and Rory's not there, and Emily just panics and yells at Lorelai and makes everything worse. This situation is Lorelai's to deal with, and is much more important to her, but Emily makes it all about her and her fears. And then she goes off and attacks everyone. She's so cruel. So manipulative. So judgemental. So awful in every way. She hurts Lorelai very badly, dismisses her pain now and throughout her life, justifies her own controlling abuse and says Lorelai deserved more and clearly Emily was right to do it, and pushes Lorelai to the breaking point of throwing her out. And she's put Lorelai in such a bad state that when Rory comes in, she turns around and throws the same judgement and controlling abuse at Rory. It's a remarkable demonstration of a generational cycle of abuse, especially because we see that it doesn't land fully because Rory refuses to accept it because she knows it's not her fault, she knows Lorelai knows it, because her whole life has been an active effort to break that cycle, Lorelai has raised her exactly to be free of it.

I don't hate Emily, she's an excellent character and both Rory and Lorelai are ultimately glad to have her in their lives. But I will never be able to even slightly understand people who take her side.

[diazsdimples]

Several Sentence Sunday

Tagged by @steadfastsaturnsrings @hippolotamus @cal-daisies-and-briars @exhuastedpigeon @disasterbuckdiaz @wildlife4life @daffi-990 and @wikiangela thank you friends!!!

This snippet is still in the editing phases and is subject to change but have a tsunami! The timeline is jumping all over the show when I write this but I've been ITCHING to write the tsunami for so long so here goes! Snippet below the cut because she's a long one

Buck reaches the toy stall just as the wave breaches the front of the pier, engulfing the spot where they’d been sitting moments earlier. He all but throws Christopher and Lily into the stall and instructs them to hold tight to each other before turning to Carrie.

She’s fallen behind and he can see her chest heaving as she pants, her small body struggling to push itself the final few steps. There’s a loud roaring in his ears, from the approaching wave or from the insurmountable panic that’s threatening to overtake him as he watches his daughter try outrun a fucking tsunami, he's not sure.

“Carrie, run!!” Buck screams, reaching out his hand to her. He wants to run to her so badly, to scoop her into his arms and protect her forever but he can’t leave Lily and Christopher and she’s so close. Her little fingertips close around his hand and he yanks her towards him, depositing her on the floor next to her sister and Christopher. Buck vaults over the wall of the toy stall, capturing one final glimpse of the churning water rushing towards them. The wood of the pier splinters and cracks as it’s torn to shreds by the unrelenting current and Buck watches in horror as people, small enough to look like Lego figures, get consumed by the water.

“Daddy I’m scared!” Lily cries, reaching out and grasping onto Buck’s shirt as he tucks himself into the corner of the stall, back to the shelves. He draws all three children close, holding onto them for dear life. Carrie clings to Buck’s arm hard, her hold tight enough to leave a bruise. He hopes it does, it’ll be something to remind him of her if they don’t all make it out.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, just hang on tight,” he reassures the kids, hoping he sounds a lot more confident than he feels. The rushing is getting louder and the floor beneath them is vibrating like mad. Buck kisses Lily’s head, then Carrie’s, the Christopher’s.

“It’s okay,” he repeats. “I’ve got you, I love you, it’s gonna be okay, we’re gonna be –“

All the air escapes Buck’s lungs as the wave slams into the stall, knocking into them like a freight train.

Everything around him is swirling, gloomy, water, the current tossing him from side to side. The only thing in his brain is “protect the kids, protect the kids” and he clings tight to the small bundles in his arms as he kicks madly, trying to reach the surface.

The water picks him up and tosses him against a solid object, a building maybe? His arms instinctively open as his back folds around the contours of the object and he whacks his head. Dazed and confused, Buck paddles hard, clawing and fighting his way to the shimmering light above him.

He’s focused purely on survival as his lungs scream at him that he needs air, now. There had been something so important he needed to do just before the wave hit but he can’t remember what it was. Had he been holding something? Everything is foggy. All he knows is if he doesn’t breathe now, he’s gonna pass out.

The first breath of oxygen as Buck’s head breaks the surface is like being reborn, the beautiful air flooding his lungs and he gasps it in over and over, like a starving man eating for the first time in years. He can dimly see a string of lights above him and he grabs onto them, gripping tightly as the water rushes around him, trying to pull him away. With each gasp of air, his brain slowly comes back online, synapses firing a million times a minute.

Buck tries to remember how he got here. The back of his head throbs hard and he realises he must have hit it, accounting for the sudden confusion. He wracks his brain, thinking back on the morning. Eddie had been at his house that morning, he can’t quite remember why, he remembers eating waffles for breakfast, and then he’d ended up here? It suddenly clicks. Lily had wanted to show Christopher the big stuffed bear she’d been wanting to win for ages, and it wasn’t until all 3 kids had turned to him, eyes big and pleading, that Buck had relented and driven the kids to the pier.

A thrill of fear shoots through Buck, his blood turning to ice, as he suddenly remembers. The kids. He looks around madly, trying to see anything through the white, bubbling foam of the water but it’s no use. He can’t see them.

They’re gone.

No pressure tagging @theotherbuckley @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @fionaswhvre @eddie---diaz @fruitandbubbles @nmcggg @watchyourbuck @rainbow-nerdss @callmenewbie @evanbegins @fortheloveofbuddie @spagheddiediaz @bucksbackwardcap @smilingbuckley @spotsandsocks @buckbuckgoose @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming

[sincerely-sofie]

Have you ever wanted to draw something but you fought due to your skill level at the time you decide not to do it

Ohhh man. I’ve got so many projects that I want to make but haven’t because I view my current skill set as lacking— and they’re almost always drawing related, because I’m very insecure about my drawing skills— even moreso than my writing skills. To go on a tangent and paint a picture of how severe this visual art insecurity is, I will list off how many people I have directly permitted to read my major written pieces once I passed my mid-teens:

My older sister, because she was my co-writer for the project and not letting her read my work wasn’t an option

My mother on one occasion

My aunt, who has experience with writing and publishing, and I have only ever sent two pieces to

Look at that number of people. The number of pieces I shared with them, in total, was four out of the hundreds of projects I’ve made over the years. I was so precious about my writing because I’m insecure about it. I’m even more insecure about my art. I couldn’t list off all the drawing projects I hesitate to make because I think it’s impossible with my current skill level, not even in a thousand years, but I’ll give a few examples that are always in the back of my mind lately.

A semi-animated pilot to a fantasy-comedy cartoon parodying The Office, starring a goblin secretary who’s trying to assassinate her employer and take over as the final boss of an RPG-esque dungeon that operates like an office building, while her employer is a lich who misinterprets all her efforts to kill him as her being flirty, leading him to develop a very severe crush on the goblin. The project is titled “Boss Fight”, and I have all the resources I need to make it, but I drag my feet because of my art insecurity… also I would be doing all the voice acting myself, and I don’t find my voice very appealing even when I change it to fit different characters.

A webcomic about a fantasy world populated by bipedal bug people that features a very brief “save the world” plot, then focuses the rest of the storyline on how the characters recover from the events of their backstories and the trauma the experienced while saving the world. It’s titled “The Creeping Chronicles”, and I love the project but am so insecure about being able to do the story justice with my art skills that I’ve tentatively pivoted to making it a book series instead. It’s got 21k+ words across 10-ish chapters because I’m too insecure about my art to draw it fully.

A slice of life comic titled “Welcome to Wayside” that’s basically Gravity Falls meets Stardew Valley where a young girl saves a cryptid’s life and now he’s stuck helping her until he repays the life debt he owes. The story features a vaguely men in black-style evil secret agency called G.L.O.O.M. (Gents for Ludicrous Oddity Organization and Management) who have various ranks are named after facets of fashion (khakis are their grunt labor and pocket squares are researchers) and they use a threat-ranking system based on dress codes (i.e. “WE HAVE A BLACK TIE DOWN ON SOUTH STREET, REPEAT: BLACK TIE DOWN ON SOUTH STREET”), and I adored G.L.O.O.M. along with the cast of characters featured in the story, but I don’t feel confident in my ability to design interesting-looking original cryptids.

I could leave this post at that, but I’ve got an important thing to say on this subject—

If you want to make something but are hesitating to because your skill levels are lackluster, make it anyways.

Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever can. Let yourself make the thing, and let yourself make the thing badly. Love it and how ugly it is. The perspective is all askew in this part, and that character is horribly off model there, and isn’t it all amazing? You made that! You made a thing! And you wouldn’t have this thing that you made if you waited until the conditions were perfect to make it and refused to create the thing before your skills were sufficient.

There’s this terrible thing about creative projects— one that is very noticeable in drawing projects especially, in my experience. As your artistic skills develop, your artistic vision also develops to become more and more detailed and masterful… and it’s always going to be outside of your grasp. If you wait until you’re ready to make the thing, you will never make the thing, because you’ll never feel ready no matter how much you build your skills. But if you make the thing before you feel totally prepared, you’ll learn and grow artistically as well as personally, and will be able to feel more confident in future thing-making efforts.

[lincolndjarin]

i didnt realize we hit 1500 until just now :,)

thank you all so much, ily ily ily, i love sharing my writing with you all and im so excited for whats to come. i dont have anything special planned as a milestone celebration so instead of that i will post a section of the din series ive been planning lol

me when its time to write another enemies to lovers slow burn forced proximity din djarin fic with religious undertones ^

just uhh for context btw im not gonna post many spoilers or other teasers for this but its important to the sneak peek that yall know that reader is a cyborg in this. a good chunk of the right side of her body has been replaced with robotics so yeah and din is a real dick about it lmao. enjoy !

⚙️

“I don’t travel with droids.” His voice reminds you of Boba’s when he wears that ridiculous helmet of his. Cold and hollow, more metal than man.

Boba sounds almost defensive of you when he speaks again. You can picture him leaning forward in his chair, the way he does when someone snaps at him. “She’s not a droid.”

“How much of it is even human?” You can’t help but flinch at that, no ones ever spoken about you in such a manner before. No one with a brain would disrespect someone like “Lord Fett” like that.

“She’s not an it.” Fennec speaks for the first time since all of this started, her voice is a hiss you’ve never been on the receiving end of before but you’ve heard her snarl at others before, slavers and other scum who come seeking a boon. You always wondered why such monsters would dare show their faces here, of course Boba dealt in criminal activity but never with people that foul. They often came seeking a Lord Fortuna, and were instead met with the barrel of Fennec’s rifle.

You can’t help but wonder if this “friend of Boba’s” is going to meet the same end. Both of them said they knew him well when he arrived but now they speak to him like the stranger that you know him as. A rude stranger.

The silence that follows is long, you can’t help but wonder if Fennec really did draw her weapon, before you can bring yourself to sneak a look around the corner you hear the all too familiar throat clearing noise that Boba makes before coming to a verdict.

“Look, either she watches the kid here, or she watches the kid with you. Either way she’s going to be involved, you just need to decide if you want to be there to keep an eye on her.” He always says everything with an air of finality, no wonder no one ever debates his decisions. The stranger barely has a chance to sigh before Boba continues. “No one trustworthy on Tatooine is going to take a babysitting gig for what you’re willing to pay.”

“I can’t afford anything more.” He’s furious. Even through the voice modulator you can hear that he’s trying not to lose his cool, but there’s an edge of desperation hiding under his anger.

“She’ll work for free. I’ll even cover her expenses.” You know Boba would do anything for you but this just seems like a bit much. He’s negotiating as if this man didn’t come to him asking for help.

“You want to get rid of her that badly?” Ouch. Rude and presumptuous.

“The last thing I want to do is lose her. That’s why I’m sending her with you.” You don’t doubt that. He’s proven to you enough how much you mean to him, even when he had no reason to.

“Sounds like you’ve made the decision for me.” Sounds like he made the decision for you as well. Has he even considered that you don’t want to go with him? Your desire to see the galaxy is fizzling out the more you think about having to travel with someone who doesn’t even see you as a person.

Another beat of that silence, dripping with tension before Boba takes control of the conversation once more. “She can’t stay here forever. I promised her she’d get to see someplace other than this dusty floating rock. They need me here. They need Fennec here. There aren’t many I would trust to do this but I know she’ll be safest with you. So take her or don’t, but you aren’t going to find anyone else to watch the kid for what you’re offering.”

“Find someone else.”

“There isn’t anyone else.” His patience is wearing thin. You know him well enough to know that he’s likely to snap soon. “You’re not the only one who’s trying to keep their family safe.” The authority in his tone reminds you of the exact reason no one ever argues with Boba.

Not even rude strangers who come bearing absurd demands and who claim to be friends.

“Fine.”

[meli-meliai]

Does Cain shares Seth's dislike of Lucifer?

*rubs hands together* ALRIGHT, IVE BEEN WANTING TO ELABORATE ON THIS!!!

Okay, short answer: No. No, he does not. But the reasons WHY is more than a bit complex:

See, the main reason why Seth dislikes the King of Hell is because of his…less-than-savory remarks regarding Eve, but there’s also another element to it: If Lucifer had never tempted his mother with the Apple, then Cain wouldn’t have sinned and Seth never would’ve been born. Seth is unique in the aspect that, unlike all of his other siblings, he was specifally CREATED as a response to Abel’s death and Cain’s sin, whereas it was implied that the others would’ve been born regardless of if they stayed in the Garden of Eden or not, as Adam and Eve were both designed to create more humans no matter where they lived. However, if Eve never ate the Fruit from the Tree of Knowledge then she wouldn’t have suffered so badly.

So Seth feels conflicted: on one hand, LUCIFER may very well be the reason why he was born in the first place. But on the other, he hates his treatment and remarks of Eve, and so tries to stay as far away from the King as possible.

However, Cain doesn’t share this sentiment. While he does love Eve, it isn’t as personal to HIM as it is to his little brother. Maybe because he didn’t think that his actions were not a direct consequence of Lucifer tricking Eve into eating the Apple (Cain has a SEVERE case of self-blaming and guilt…he’s only human, after all. He was a murderer, but he has never been selfish or particularly prideful. His self-loathing was so great that it drove him to envy, and murder) or maybe a small part of him still resents his mother, who he inherited his self-loathing and sense of guilt from (dare I say he learned it from her..?) or maybe Cain really does want to believe that Lucifer sees himself in him: two envious individuals from a God-beloved community who ostracized them for daring to be different, who both fell from grace and therefore have to stick together.

I’ll go more in-depth about this once I finish my design of Lucifer, but the important part is: Lucifer is LIKABLE. And incredibly so- he could announce to you that he was pure evil and you still can’t help but like him. His very presence draws people to him like moth to a flame; he is handsome, charming, sly, and witty (oh look, how familiar) but ultimately… in his mind, people that he is even remotely close with (such as Cain) could never hope to ever reach his status. Everyone (besides a few, VERY SPECIFIC people) including his own Father is nothing, nothing at all compared to him. But he’s Prideful, not arrogant. So he indulgences in their desires, making the puny little humans feel big, thus stripping them of their own humanity leaving nothing but arrogance- and aren’t the Prideful so easy to manipulate? All you have to do is make them believe that their every move is theirs, was THEIR idea.. while it is only you who pulls the strings. True Pride needs not to boast, for all the world belongs to them already…..For free will is a mere illusion, designed to delude the weak-minded humans into believing that they actually have a choice in the Universe. But you can use this. They will all become yours, eventually. All you have to do…is wait.

[tenyrasims]

Red Emoji OC Asks ❤️‍🩹

🐞, 🎸and ❤️ for Kiyoshi.

🥩, ❗️ for Aidan

and

🌹, 💔 and 🎈for Ashina

Pls 😎

Uh thats a lot 😂 ok, lets start~

🐞 - What does a perfect day look like for your oc? What do they do? Who do they see? ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Well you would actually guess hes the type to sleep in but hes not. He would get up at 5 a.m to go for a damn jog (cause he barely sleeps anyway bc of his nightmares) comes back, get breakfast with Daiki. Then it depends where Daiki would drag him. He also doesnt mind watching Daiki draw his paintings or learn for school ... even if hes looking more him than anything else😂 If it comes to him he would actually go play basketball with the boys before getting to training either dancing or taekwondo. At evening he can settle down if he got enough exercise and is satisfied if he can cuddle and watching a movie with him c: If hes tired he can get a real cutie 😊

🎸 - What’s your character’s music taste like? Do they have one or two artists they play on repeat or do they have a varied and eclectic collection of music? Do they like mainstream artists or prefer underground musicians? What genres do they enjoy? ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pretty mixed he mostly listen to rock but is also into rap and RnB He always acts like the tough guy but pretty deep thinking. So he often listens to music which resembles his insides.

❤️ - Who is the most important person to your character? To what lengths would they go to protect this person? ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Thats pretty obvious. Its Daiki for sure. He would go to hell and back to keep him safe. and he would be able to manage this easy and kick asses. 😂

🥩 - Does your oc have any coping mechanisms? Healthy or unhealthy?

Oh yea - mostly drugs any kind of. He smokes a lot and drinks too much if hes stressed.

❗️ - What was the scariest moment of your character’s life? Does it still affect them?

Oh yea there were a lot scarie moments of his life. But hes not the type to get scared from something. There was just one moment which is also part of their story where he nearly lost Ashina and this feeling shattered his whole world to the core.

🌹 - What does your oc find attractive in other people? Are these traits found in their friends and/or romantic partners? Are they found in themselves?

Ashina loves a challenge and she can't do anything with shy, submissive guys. That bores her pretty quick. She more the "I ruin bad boys" type of girl. The only who can mess with her temper is actually Aidan because he calms her down - and thats a trait she needs to find in someone which she actually dont know of that she need badly. Somewhere she can find peace. She need someone who can deal with her moods and personalities, is the same type of crazy without giving into her too quick. Someone who also take her on a leash if shes overdoing it. And yea all of this is Aidan.

💔 - Who has your character hurt most? Physically or emotionally? How did it feel? Do they regret it?

Uh yea, she hurted a lot of people in the past but the most? humm probably Aidan as she lied about that she slept with Kiyoshi in Dare to Love me as they broke up because all Aidan wanted was to protect her. She knew it would hit him hard because they are like brothers. She just got overboard there. And also ruined their friendship so they dont speak to eachother anymore. upsi ~

🎈 - What does your character do at parties? Are they a wallflower or a party animal? Do they go with friends or alone?

hmm depents if shes drinking or na :D but if yea - dancing on tables, getting wasted, she wouldnt mind going alone dont worry. But Aidan wont let her 😂 trust me he never would. He just knows her too good.

Thanks for the ask ♥

[sugar-coat-it]

does body piercer matty also do tattoos? cause now I can’t stop thinking about him tattooing girly

I could see him dabbling in tattoos! I think he’d be a bit of an amateur, his main gig is piercing, but he’s learning how to tattoo on the side. For a while, he’s like “No absolutely not” when girlie asks him to tattoo her because he wants to make sure he’s good enough to not fuck it up

Eventually, when he’s gotten steadier and more practiced, he brings it up again, asking her what she’d want. He spends a few days drawing out endless sketches for her, page after page of variations of the same design because he needs to get this right. It’s for his girl, after all. Also, he’s found that getting stoned and sketching tattoo designs is very therapeutic for him

He’s kind of giddy about it leading up to the appointment, smiling to himself when he catches a glimpse of her name in the scheduling book, getting major deja vu from the day they met. His coworkers tease him when he’s anxiously going around in circles while sitting at the spinny chair at the front desk, waiting for her

It’s super comfortable when he gets her in the chair. He cracks a joke about her needing to sign something agreeing not to be upset if it’s bad, but they both know he would never let it turn out badly. Lots of banter and their normal chit-chat while he’s tattooing her, but at one point he interrupts her like:

“Shh, shh. Wait. I need to lock in for a second.”

“What? What are you—“

“Shhhh…”

Because he’s inking an important detail on the tattoo.

He checks at points throughout, being very sweet and making sure she’s okay, unable to resist throwing in some “you’re doing so good, baby” and “taking it so well, love” which just makes her a little dizzy, getting flashbacks to him saying very similar things in the bedroom.

If the pain were to become too much at any time, he’d stop, putting his tools down to gently kiss her face and let her have a breather. He’d take his gloves off to hold her hand, squeezing it comfortingly, waiting for her to be ready to keep going.

When it’s done, he does his little whistle of appreciation, admiring his work on her, already looking forward to kissing it and rubbing over it with his fingers once it’s healed. Of course… he’s even more cocky now that he’s got not one, but two permanent marks on her