#wonder why I haven't draw them?

[themaarika]

hi i'm working on a dark fantasy vampire yuri comic called That Bitch Stabbed Me and i wanted to share a little preview!! 🦇 read the first 10+ pages on patreon: https://www.patreon.com/posts/that-bitch-me-1-116309032

[freaky-flawless]

The De Nile sisters!

[umblrspectrum]

my mom didn't carry me, she fucking DRIBBLED me

[rorydrawsandwrites]

:O

[darkdragon768]

Having a blorbo with anger issues made me think about my past.

I remember, when I was in elementary school, if I didn't like someone I showed that. Someone was celebrating their birthday and the teacher had us stand in line and everyone was supposed to say something nice. Well, except me. I said something like "I wish you an awful day". The teacher scolded me after that. I also made that girl cry due to this.

Another situation. We had a bully in class many didn't like. There was one day where he ended up on the floor and people were standing around him, kicking him and stuff. Now that I think about it, I don't think I joined in and kicked him too, I was just watching and thinking "heck yeah, that's what he deserves!". Some other day I had a fight with this guy tho.

I think that was at the beginning of school. There was a girl I couldn't stand. I remember a time where I pushed her and she accidentally hit her head against a... metal pipe?? and I didn't want to say sorry to her. However, I ended up being on good terms with her? We even became friends???

Then one time in kindergarten I found a cool rock on the ground, picked it up and then decided "actually it isn't that cool" and threw it behind my back accidentally hitting another kid on the head. And I swear this was by accident. This has nothing to do with being pissed but it's something I remember vividly.

I don't remember if my parents ever heard about any of those and scolded me. I know the teachers did tho.

Nowadays I still get pissed off of people but the difference is the actions stay inside my head.

[kira-light0]

A quick little doodle for Halloween.

[insertsomthinawesome]

ALRIGHT FOLKS, I'M DOING THE COLOR WHEEL CHALLENGE, SO...

Contrary to how Tumblr''s time choices, I'm probably going to use whatever is the most popular in the next hour!! (maybe later if i get carried away since I'll probably be drawing while waiting.)

[edith-is-a-cat]

current characteristics of my unfinished sketches: LITERALLY ONLY THE FACES ARE DONE? WHY AM I LIKE THIS?

[saja-star]

I've had a hard time articulating to people just how fundamental spinning used to be in people's lives, and how eerie it is that it's vanished so entirely. It occurred to me today that it's a bit like if in the future all food was made by machine, and people forgot what farming and cooking were. Not just that they forgot how to do it; they had never heard of it.

When they use phrases like "spinning yarns" for telling stories or "heckling a performer" without understanding where they come from, I imagine a scene in the future where someone uses the phrase "stir the pot" to mean "cause a disagreement" and I say, did you know a pot used to be a container for heating food, and stirring was a way of combining different components of food together? "Wow, you're full of weird facts! How do you even know that?"

When I say I spin and people say "What, like you do exercise bikes? Is that a kind of dancing? What's drafting? What's a hackle?" it's like if I started talking about my cooking hobby and my friend asked "What's salt? Also, what's cooking?" Well, you see, there are a lot of stages to food preparation, starting with planting crops, and cooking is one of the later stages. Salt is a chemical used in cooking which mostly alters the flavor of the food but can also be used for other things, like drawing out moisture...

"Wow, that sounds so complicated. You must have done a lot of research. You're so good at cooking!" I'm really not. In the past, children started learning about cooking as early as age five ("Isn't that child labor?"), and many people cooked every day their whole lives ("Man, people worked so hard back then."). And that's just an average person, not to mention people called "chefs" who did it professionally. I go to the historic preservation center to use their stove once or twice a week, and I started learning a couple years ago. So what I know is less sophisticated than what some children could do back in the day.

"Can you make me a snickers bar?" No, that would be pretty hard. I just make sandwiches mostly. Sometimes I do scrambled eggs. "Oh, I would've thought a snickers bar would be way more basic than eggs. They seem so simple!"

Haven't you ever wondered where food comes from? I ask them. When you were a kid, did you ever pick apart the different colored bits in your food and wonder what it was made of? "No, I never really thought about it." Did you know rice balls are called that because they're made from part of a plant called rice? "Oh haha, that's so weird. I thought 'rice' was just an adjective for anything that was soft and white."

People always ask me why I took up spinning. Isn't it weird that there are things we take so much for granted that we don't even notice when they're gone? Isn't it strange that something which has been part of humanity all across the planet since the Neanderthals is being forgotten in our generation? Isn't it funny that when knowledge dies, it leaves behind a ghost, just like a person? Don't you want to commune with it?

[prokopetz]

I apologise if you've already answered this, but I tried searching your blog and I'm unsure if you haven't or if it's another example of Tumblr's amazing search system.

I was talking with a friend recently about how much of a culture clash the Monk Class is compared to the rest of Dungeons & Dragons and was wondering if there is a coherent reason for their original inclusion. I'm aware that they're largely influenced by Shaolin monks as depicted in Hong Kong cinema in the 70's/80's as compared to the Sword and Sorcery stuff most of the rest of D&D takes influence from.

Basically, my question ultimately boils down to, "Is the Monk Class there purely because of an original player wanting to rule of cool their way into playing something wildly out of genre, or is there a stronger link between Sword and Sorcery and Hong Kong cinema that could have organically resulted in the Monk Class joining the rest of the classes?"

A lot of the link between the two was simply a matter of time and place. The kung fu craze hit North America at just about exactly the same time as the sword and sorcery revival that gave us films like Clash of the Titans and Beastmaster and The Sword and the Sorcerer and Dragonslayer and Krull – not to mention the Arnold Schwarzenegger Conan adaptation, which revived popular interest in first-wave sword and sorcery literature – so there was a lot of it going around. Analysis of early Dungeons & Dragons as a product of its media influences often overlooks that it was largely drawing on what was trendy in American popular media in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s. Even the tonally incongruous Lord of the Rings references weren't a deep cut; while the books were originally published in the 1950s, they'd experienced a strong resurgence in the 1970s, putting them firmly in the popular consciousness at the time that D&D was being developed. All this being the case, it's not surprising that early D&D was also substantially influenced by Hong Kong action cinema.

That said, the reason the monk character class in particular (i.e., as opposed to kung fu media influences more generally) is there is allegedly because one specific guy in one of the game's early playtest groups really, really wanted to play as Remo Williams from Warren Murphy and Richard Sapir's The Destroyer; several of the class's signature abilities are direct references to powers Williams exhibits in the course of the novels. Remarks from folks who worked at TSR at the time have pointed the finger at Brian Blume as the Remo Williams fan in question, though accounts are conflicted whether Blume was actually an uncredited contributor to Dave Arneson's Blackmoor (1975), in which the class makes its first proper appearance, or whether Blume's interest merely prompted its inclusion.

This is the case for the character archetypes in a lot tabletop RPGs of that era; instead of trying to work out what classes "ought" be be present, authors would simply start with the types of characters their playtesters actually wanted to play, often based on specific popular media characters, then work backwards to derive an IC rationale for why those were the setting's standard adventuring professions. Other examples from D&D in particular most obviously include the Ranger (based on Tolkien's Aragon, naturally), but also the Paladin (principally inspired by Holger Carlsen from Poul Anderson's 1961 isekai novel Three Hearts and Three Lions, also the source of D&D's goofy regenerating trolls), the Assassin, back when it was still a separate character class (probably mainly based on the Assassin Caste from John Norman's Gor), and even the Wizard to a large extent (less Gandalf than you'd think: a large portion of D&D's iconic wizard spell list is lifted directly from the 1963 Vincent Price film The Raven).

(I often think that modern indie RPGs could benefit from reviving this approach. Like, fuck textual consistency – just pick half a dozen of your favourite popular media characters without regard for the compatibility of the source material and work backwards to explain why these six random assholes are your game's playable archetypes!)

[websterss]

THE HAND THAT’S FORCED (1) — ROBERT REYNOLDS

SUMMARY: You hadn't meant to get attached to Bob, much less fall in love with him. You hadn't meant for things to slip out right from underneath your grasp. Out of your control, much like Valentina holding your love for one another over your heads.

WARNING(S): angst, a slur, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of death, a bit of a graphic depiction towards the end, Valentina being terrible

WORD COUNT: 2,739

PAIRING: Robert Reynolds (Sentry/The Void) x fem!reader

A/N: Hope you guys like it.

MASTERLIST | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

"What is this, Bob?" Yelena was curious as they all watched a new illusion appear before them.

"M-My memories..."

"Whose the girl-"

"J-Just watch." Bob silenced John.

-

"Hi Bob, remember me?" You smile up from your chart.

"You're Y/n." Bob answers.

"Yes, that's me. Would it be alright if I could draw some blood from you today?"

"You're asking." Bob's head remains faced down. You're highly aware of the two former doctors he's turned into shadows right behind you. "The other's never asked..." His brows crease in wonder.

"Well, I...I think we all deserve to be shown some bedside manners. Some respect for our boundaries. You more so than others..." You trail off.

"Do you think you do?" Bob finally raises his head to look at you.

"Do I think I deserve to be shown respect?"

"Mhm."

"I would like to think so."

"Why's that?"

"I haven't given you any reason to believe otherwise. I'm not here to poke and prob you. I don't have ill intentions, Robert."

"Why should I believe you?"

"I like to think we're a bit alike, honestly."

"Alike...you think we're alike?" He releases a dark chuckle.

You nod. "We're both here against our own will." You place the chart beside him. "My reason, albeit in contrast to your own, I'm under contract to see that you succeed in our experiments. Though if I fail...to meet certain requirements." You inhale shakenly. You muster your best smile, though it's far from meeting your eyes. "My family gets killed. So I can't afford to mess up."

"I don't want to be pricked by anyone anymore..." Bob finally admitted.

"I can work around that." You nodded in reassurance. "Needles isn't the only way. There are cotton swabs we could try..."

"But blood is what you need, though, right?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Blood samples are more effective for the test we want to conduct."

"You got a knife anywhere or a scalpel?"

"What for?" You tense.

"So you can get your blood sample..."

"Oh, yeah, I do!" You scurry around the room in search of something sharp. You instead find a sewing needle, something you found similar to the needles he didn't want anymore. "There's a needle, but I can step out if you want the scalpel."

"That'll work." He gestures it over.

-

"Where are we going?" You peer over your shoulder as Bob guides you into a broom closet. You hold your breath as heavy boots hurry past the door he shoved you both in. You peer at him in curiosity, in wonder as he strains his ear. "Valetina will have my head if she finds us alone-" You gasp as he cups your face. His lips silenced your worries in a matter of seconds. You sigh into the kiss as he backs you up against the metal storage shelves. You raise your hands to rake them through his locks.

"Bob, we can't stay in here-" You push back slightly, only for him to chase the kiss again.

"Shh-"

"Bob, I'm serious we can't risk this-" Your whisper is muffled by another kiss. You go to protest only to see he was quieting you once more with precaution.

"What do you mean you can't find him? Well, where's Dr. Y/L/N? She was the last one to know about his whereabouts?" You both pull back in time to hear and see Valentina's shadow fall below the door. You hold your breath again. "Well, page her now!" You begin to panic as you reach for the device tucked into your scrubs. Before it could emit its alert tone, you feel Bob reach forward and crush it in his hand. "You're all useless!"

-

You had been a former member of the team of scientists that had run tests and experiments on Bob when the team was only at the beginning of their trial runs.

Heavily emphasized as former, when Valentina viewed your empathy towards the man, incompetent to her wretched morals. Your perspective on your team's ethics and your reluctance to keep sticking needles in his veins had guaranteed you your very own enemy. A target on your back if you didn't comply with her wishes.

Bob had grown fond of your sweet nature, having made a friend out of you during your time spent in the lab. That friendship, though, the closeness you garnered, had cost you, cost him your company.

Valentina proposed access to you if he did what was asked of him. He too fell victim to Valentina's manipulation. What small but significant leverage she dangled over your own heads like dogs. You were his demise, as much as he was yours. But you would ensure the safety of one another, go to certain lengths, of what was asked of you to see each other. Then and only then would she bring you up the tower to see him. And she did for what felt like a month's worth of waiting to see him. Though it wasn't like any of the other times she dragged your cuffed hands towards the top floor. Dragging felt like a misconception; she all but shoved you face down onto the ground before Bob's feet. He knelt, brushing the disheveled locks back behind your ears as your fear-stricken gaze met his bewildered one.

This wasn't like your regular visits.

"Your lip?" Bob pointed out. It was busted.

"Bob, don't listen to her-" He helped you onto your feet before the clock of a gun triggered his fight or flight.

You turned cautiously towards Valentina, who directed the end of her pistol right onto you. Bob shoved you behind him, his hands out before him as though to tame a wild beast, in your case, Valentina, who always felt like the devil incarnate.

"Here's what's gonna happen, you two...I'm gonna send some people your way, Bob, and you are gonna deal with them for me, cause I'm getting real tired of having to put up with them. If you don't comply. I'm gonna shoot her dead. Right here." Valentina grinned, thumping her forehead with the butt of her weapon for her example. "And you'll never see her again. Though to be honest, I should have shot her the second she got attached to you. I'd have shot you too, but this won't do shit I'm afraid." Valentina sighed, tired of over-explaining herself. "You just had to go and let your heart win." Valentina glanced at you over his shoulder. Your face was reminiscent of a lost child, scared. Fearing the unknown. Like, where did your future lie in her hands?

"You broke your contract, you little bitch. What was the one thing I asked of you?"

"To not get-"

"What was that?" Valentina turned her face, cupping a hand behind her ear to mock you. "Oh, that's right, to not get attached, to not make a connection. Now look at you." She feigned a gag of disgust towards you both. "I hope you've been smart enough to keep your legs shut. Otherwise, that's a whole other problem that I don't have time for." Though the faint dread that crossed your face had her paling at the sudden realization. "Oh...you didn't, please tell me you didn't? When would you two have even found the time?"

"What kind of people?" Bob tried to shift her attention to anything else besides you.

"No, now I'm mad. When the hell did that happen? God, you're not pregnant, are you?"

"N-No." You promised.

"Well, good. At least you weren't stupid enough to conceive a baby of destruction. The press would have a field day with this!"

"What people?" Bob asked again.

"You'll know when they come. Let's go!" Valentina gestured for you to come over with the gun.

"I don't get my hour with her?" Bob circled an arm around you to keep you behind him.

"No."

"I've done everything you've asked of me..." Bob pleaded.

"Your lover hasn't. Why don't you tell him what I found out today? It'll help explain your fault for ending up shoved against the ground. Let him in on why I decided to bust your lip open."

"Y/n?" Bob turned to face you, confusion written across his features. Hoping your truth wasn't some form of disloyalty towards him.

"I tried to..." Your gaze averts Valetina's, feeling the water works begin. "I tried outing her plans...to the public, what they've done to you. The public should know of her cruelty. I tried reaching out to a contact of mine, but he was struck down in the air last I heard, going through therapy and training, so I was on my own. V-Valentina broke into my house this morning."

That explained your pajamas. His gaze shifted to your slippers.

"And that is why we are here today. Maybe I will give you your hour, to remind you of the good I do to allow you both to be together, since both of you comply so well." Just as she said this, her phone rang. Her mood shifted into one of ease and joy. "Ah, I've got to take this. You get an hour." She waved you off. As soon as she entered the elevator and the door closed behind her. Bob broke the cuffs, freeing your trembling hands that now circled around his neck to hide yourself in the nape of his neck.

"Hey, hey, you're with me now. She's gone, we have an hour again." Bob hurried you off to his enclosed case that remained open now. The single mattress on the ground welcomed you. Bob pulled you down with him. His lips colliding with yours in a desperate rush. Valentina hadn't let him see you for a month. Sometimes a month expanding into three, and before he knew it, three months had turned into more if he acted out. That solemn year without you had set him off. He was on his best behavior now, desperate to even catch a glimpse of you if Valentina was in good spirits.

Your tears hadn't stopped even if Bob kept wiping them away. Whatever grief you were withholding had broken your resolve. He could feel it in the way you gently ran your hands through his locks. Foreign to your usual wanting grip.

He'd never coax it out of you like Valentina would. He'd wait, and he'd be patient with you-

"I-I'm pregnant." You choked back a sob amid another kiss.

Bob's breath hitched at the sudden confession. His gaze neutralized as he continued to caress your wet cheeks with his thumbs. His only response in the moment was to kiss you sweetly, then lift the hem of your shirt, just enough to place a faint whisper of a kiss against your stomach.

His words of comfort only being. "I don't want her to use it against me if she finds out."

"She won't find out..." Your eyes space out as Bob reaches up to push back your hair. His gaze settles over your cut on your lip before he cups your jaw as he begins his light descent of kisses.

"If she touches you again. I'll raise hell. No one would be safe."

"It should just be Valentina. What does anyone else have to do with it?"

"I don't think I'd be in the right mental capacity to determine whose good and whose bad. I'd be too angry to try to be coaxed out of seeing any good morals in anyone."

"All because Valentina touched me?" Your heart felt overwhelmed by how deeply he felt about your safety. It warmed you as much as it almost concerned you.

"Because she hurt you." Bob's soft gaze hardened.

-

“That’s Y/n. My love.” Bob tilted his head with a smile as he showed the thunderbolts another memory of you. “I haven’t seen her since this day. I’m lucky enough to get any time with her throughout the month. Y-You guys haven’t seen her, have you? Valentina said she would bring her by today, but she hasn’t come.”

Yelena felt like throwing up at his words. If your discarded self, which she saw in the broom closet, wasn’t enough evidence to indicate your demise, then she hated the idea of telling him where you really were even more.

Yelena turned her gaze to close her eyes. The heaviness weighed down with the guilt that tightened in her throat. You poor thing. You only wanted to be with him, nothing more than wanting to see him again and again. You were innocent, a helpless life that Valentina took.

"You don't think she's done something to her, right?" Yelena looks up this time to find his gaze has settled onto her.

Bob's gaze was solemn yet imploring as he searched Yelena's expression for reassurance. His hands clenched involuntarily, a visible sign of his anxiety and concern. Her silence only fueled his unease, making the air around them feel heavy with suspense.

"Valentina wouldn't. She wouldn't go that far, right?" Even as he asks, the lingering doubt in his voice exposes his inner turmoil.

Yelena knew the truth, and the weight of that knowledge pressed upon her conscience. The guilt churned within her, and she wrestled with the difficult task of finding a way to break the news to Bob.

"No..." Yelena finally replied, shaking her head as her voice was soft and filled with hesitation. "I hope not..."

You're a bad liar, you know? Bob’s voice appeared in her mind.

Yelena's heart sank as she heard him breakthrough her mental walls, the weight of her deception settling heavily on her conscience. She knew her lie had been detected, and the realization hit her with a pang of remorse.

I know. Yelena silently admitted, unable to meet his gaze. The weight of guilt threatened to overwhelm her, knowing she couldn't bring herself to reveal the truth to him. I don't know how long she's been there...

Bob's expression shifted, his eyebrows furrowing as he read the guilt in her eyes. He could sense the internal conflict that plagued her conscience, the secrets she was wrestling with. It made his heart ache to witness her torn by the burden of his ignorance.

"You…do you know where she is then?" His words cut through the tension like a knife, his voice a mixture of desperation and urgency.

"Know where who is?" John's confusion was evident in his voice as he looked to Bob for clarification. "No one's said anything?" John and the others looked over to Yelena, who kept looking down at her chipped nail paint.

"He just read my mind...Bob, I'm so sorry, but I found her body in a closet. By the looks of it, it could be the same one you dragged her inside of."

Bob's expression paled as Yelena's words hit him like a ton of bricks. His mind struggled to process the news, the weight of her revelation crashing upon him like a tidal wave.

"W-What...? You're not saying-" His voice trembled as he searched Yelena's face for any indication of falsehood.

"I do think Valentina would go that far, and she has."

Bob's emotions flared, a mixture of anger, despair, and disbelief swirling within him. The revelation that Valentina had gone to such extremes struck a chord deep within him.

"Damn it!" The outburst escaped his lips like a strangled cry, his fist clenched tightly as he struggled to come to terms with the harsh reality. "How?" He stopped to glare at her. "How'd she leave her?"

"Knowing won't change any-"

"Tell me!" Bob's voice rose. An echo of darkness mixed with grief, his emotions on the edge of uncontrollable. He was demanding answers, desperate for anything that could help him piece together your tragedy. “Just tell me.”

"T-There was bruising around her neck-" Yelena shook her head, not wanting to think about the state she found you in. "Her face was beaten..." Yelena's shoulders fell. She shook her head at Bob. "It looked intentional. Like it was done out of spite. If she fought back, I don’t think she stood a chance. I'm so sorry, Bob." Yelena's voice cracked.

Bob's world shattered around him as Yelena's words painted a haunting picture of your fate. He couldn't bear the thought of you gone. His anger flared, mixing with a profound heartache, as he processed the cruelty inflicted upon you.

"Out of spite…" He repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. The thought of someone, particularly Valentina, intentionally causing you such pain made his blood boil.

[imstillalexcomic]

I was planning on writing a long post about all this, but even though coming out as trans has been a 24 year process and there's been ample time to work on what to say, I'm having trouble finding the right words.

While I knew there was something going on with me since I was about 12 or 13, it took time to realize what it was.

It then took more time to get over my denial.

Then even more time to come out to my best friend in 2017.

Then *even* more time to finally decide to start hormone replacement therapy this year.

Since starting HRT, I've been reaching out to folks from all stages in my life to tell them in person. It's been a lovely experience so far and everyone has been so kind and accepting and understanding and I'm truly fortunate and honored that I've somehow managed to have been surrounded by so many wonderful people.

There are many more that I wanted to reach out to, but I'm finally ready to come out publicly, so I'm ripping the bandaid off now.

Naturally, I'm going to be silly about it and do it with a comic.

I haven't really been drawing since Corpse Run ended, but I've had the itch to get back into it and now that I have a new topic to explore I think I finally have the passion to match the desire.

No set schedule like Corpse Run had, but there's going to be some trans comics from time to time, general life stuff... maybe some video games too because why not.

Given current events, I think visibility is more important than ever. Being seen and potentially giving other folks who might be closeted as I was an opportunity to explore their own relationship with themselves has value and I'm excited to make this next chapter of my life something worthwhile beyond my own happiness.

Being trans is ok. Not being trans is ok. Being whatever it is you were born as is ok.

The circumstances of your birth are nothing to be ashamed of, you are valid and always will be.

I guess I found some words after all. I hope they're the right ones.

[corevibeself]

𝒲 𝒽 𝒶 𝓉 𝒟 𝑜 𝒯 𝒽 𝑒 𝓎 𝐿 𝑜 𝓋 𝑒 𝒜 𝒷 𝑜 𝓊 𝓉 𝒴 𝑜 𝓊 ?

ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤　 　﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ ﾟ+*:ꔫ:*﹤　　 ﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ 　 ﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ　

Ever wonder what your current or future partner loves about you?

Remember, these are general readings; not all the messages will resonate with some of you. Pick the image you're most drawn to; don't overthink it! <3

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 1 ♥

I'm getting that this person has never met someone like you before. And like, yeah, obviously—everyone’s unique. But you guys are a bit out of the norm (not in a bad way). I'm getting Aquarius and Gemini vibes, or maybe some Uranus influence in your chart—like having Aquarius as a rising sign. It could even just be in terms of looks—like, you might be the first person they’ve dated who stands out in such a unique and fresh way.

I’m also picking up on this very innocent, childlike energy—just super youthful as a person. You have this sense of wonder about the world, like you’re open and receptive. I see you as an open book emotionally, and your face might be really animated—like, I just saw someone reacting to a surprise with this big, shocked expression. This person finds you incredibly adorable.

For some of you, you might be on the shorter side, or have this cute little baby face, or just something about you that gives off youthful vibes—and they find that so cute. I think sometimes they can’t even take you seriously HAHA. Like, I’m literally seeing you talking about something serious, and they just wanna squish your cheeks. Your relationship might be goofy af, so they never really know when to be serious hahaha XD.

If you’ve got blue or hazel eyes, they’re obsessed. They just think they’re so pretty. I also saw big, round eyes as another feature they adore about you.

There’s this one scenario I saw—you’re trying to do something, and you’re struggling, and they’re trying to help, but you insist you can do it. And they love that. Like, they love seeing you struggle?? HAHAHA Idk, they just find you adorable frll, you guys remind me of bubbles? Idk why I just got the image of bubbles, and now I'm seeing the SpongeBob movie scene where Patrick and SpongeBob are making bubbles in that one scary bar bathroom, If you haven't seen the spongebob movie pls go check out that scene cause its making me giggly, and it just may be kind of your dynamic? But take it as it resonates HAHAHA

Some of you might really love gardening or having plants inside your home. And if you’re the type to talk to your plants and name them, they LOVE that about you. There’s just something about your energy that feels so authentic, cute, and unique. You radiate a softness that makes them feel so comfortable. I'm also seeing if you paint, draw, or create things, if you're just a creative person, they love how shy you get when showing your creations, cause I saw someone with a canvas behind their backabout to show it to their partner, but like you're too shy or you're just hesitant and they love it because they're always surprised by your talent so you might humble yourself a lot and this person is like "why? you're so good!"

They might love massaging you, or maybe you massage them, but someone here has healing hands. Like, your touch genuinely heals them—it makes them feel better. And when you guys are together, they love how it feels like it’s just the two of you. Like that "no one understands us" kind of energy hahaha. They love that.

They also love how you’re always down to try new things with them. You might even be the type to plan surprises for them—again, super youthful vibes. I even thought of pranks as something you guys might do to each other—small teasing, playful energy. They just feel like they can ultimately be themselves with you.

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 2 ♥

You guys are my intuitive pile—we got the High Priestess up in this bitchhh hahaha. They hate that you know things, but they also LOVE it. You might make this person feel like they can’t hide anything from you. I see them trusting your discerning abilities. You’re so in tune with this person that you just know when they need something. Like, this is the pile where you'll say something to them or get them something, and they’ll just be like, "How did you know I needed this?"

You make this person feel seen because you see into the deeper aspects of people. Some of you might even be witches, practicing the occult, tarot, etc. I’m also being told that some of you doubt your intuition or might be reading this thinking you’re new to all this—or maybe you’re just not even aware of the fact that they view you as so mystical. But they do, and they love this part of you.

Some of you love listening to true crime or are currently studying psychology—they love the insights you give them, the random facts you hear, and the knowledge you’ve gained. They love hearing about it. Again, this person feels seen—they feel like they can be authentic and emotionally vulnerable with you.

Whoever’s got a cat they talk to (or whoever just talks to animals in general)—they love your connection with them. They love seeing you interact with animals. Some of you might be vegan, vegetarian, or thinking about eating less animal products. I’m also getting nature witches here—or if you resonate with collecting stuff from nature, like crystals, I’m also seeing an altar. Okay, they just love your collections, is what I’m getting.

You’re not someone whose mind can be changed easily, or it’s hard to sway you. Like, you don’t let people sway you is what I got. They find that so admirable because I’m really seeing you dedicated to something you’re passionate about. And it’s not just a hobby—it’s like a lifestyle at this point.

Another message I got—you might be someone with a specific routine, like, for example, a morning routine that feels almost like a ritual—but you take it seriously, and they love that about you and the reason they do is that your person just gives me admiration vibes; they admire you, your intelligence, your intuition, your dedication to what you love, and the knowledge you carry.

Some of you even intimidated this person when y’all met—or when you will meet.

𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓮 3 ♥

So y’all are definitely their ideal type in literally every way—LOLLL. Incredibly hot to this person. You’re the person they’ve always wanted and searched for. It’s like they never even realized how bad they had it in past relationships until they met you—because you showed them what a good relationship is.

You nurture this person. They feel emotionally heard and cared for by you, which might be something they hadn’t felt much before. You have literally shifted their entire view on relationships and love. Like, in their mind, you’re it—you’re the last, they’re set on that.

You’re someone who isn’t afraid to speak your truth, and that has changed them—they love that about you. It’s your brutal honesty, guys. You say or do things that make this person realize a lot about themselves—you’re like a catalyst for change. And it doesn’t even have to be anything grandiose—it’s just that you do things this person hasn’t experienced in past relationships, and it’s new to them in a really good way. It’s fresh, it’s intense.

You’re not afraid to grow—in fact, you love growth. You make this person rethink things.

You also give off sensual vibes—it might be that you’re in touch with your body and how you express yourself, and that turns them on hahaha. I honestly don’t think they can see their life without you now that you’re in it.

They also love how you take their side in things—like, let’s say they’re in an argument with someone, you have their back. But at the same time, you’re fair—you’re honest, and if they’re in the wrong, you’re not afraid to say it. They love that you can hold them accountable.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨ ᰔ ୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊

Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. <3 I was feeling a bit low energy this weekend, so my next post might be later during the week; I'm thinking next weekend, probably. Thank you for all the support I've been getting, btw, it's been insane. Thank you guys for reflecting such kindness back to me. xxxx

[incognitopolls]

Huge TERF following you have, huh? Wonder why that is.

I assume you're referring to the results on this poll.

Respectfully, the way tumblr works is that when a post is reblogged, it ends up getting seen by people who do not follow the OP.

In the first day of that poll going live, the last option made up a very low percentage, around 1.5–2%. After circulating for 6 days, that percentage is obviously much higher. What that indicates to me is that the 2% is most likely more representative of people who saw the post directly from this blog, while the inflated number came after that 2% reblogged the post into their circles/TERFS who follow other rebloggers got hold of it.

TERFs in particular seem to get a lot of enjoyment out of reblogging/commenting on pro-trans and/or anti-terf posts, either to pose as the victim or to make fun of the posts. (Or both.) They love to hate. It's a game to them, and that's why it seems unusually weighted– they have more fun kicking a post like that around, as opposed to everyone else whose additions are less "interesting" comments (meaning less likely to spark further engagement) like "no I haven't" or "yeah once, ugh."

A large number of the non-terf votes are also likely from people who wouldn't want to reblog that poll anyway (for a multitude of reasons), which comparatively lessens the poll's reach among the people who think like them.

Regardless of the reason for the high percentage on that poll, I would hope that my track record would speak for me here. You can take a look through a variety of topics and posts that should more or less communicate my stance. As a reminder, I openly state that I modify the text of many submissions; this often involves changing polls to use more inclusive language, but also means that if I wanted to use less inclusive language, I could very easily do so.

Polls tagged #gender

Polls tagged #lgbtq | [category] Polls about LGBTQ stuff

Polls tagged #trans

Posts in which I speak (for more perspective on how I conduct myself and the values from which I approach this blog)

In particular I will draw your attention to phrases like "people with vaginas," "people who menstruate," "people with penises," and terms like LGBTQ and queer. These are terms I deliberately add to polls (when relevant) if they are not already phrased that way; and generally speaking, these are not terms/phrases that terfs use. Every time there's a poll using terms like these, there's a terf in the comments complaining about it. I block them when I see them. I don't catch everything– I'm not perfect– but I do what I reasonably can. We support trans people here.

[jetblack4realz]

his little girl - yellowstone boys

how the yellowstone (+ 1923) boys react to you having their daughter

i think i might make this a series if y'all are interested. i think it'd be cute! i'll do kayce (obvs), rip (ofc), ryan (what a man), lee (we didn't get enough of him), jimmy (i haven't seen a single thing on here for him, not that there isn't but still), and spencer (he's iconic)!!

lmk if you want anything in particular for any or all of these guys! i think it could be fun :)

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kayce dutton:

when you first got pregnant, you were so certain it was going to be a little boy, and that's what you told kayce. he smiled over at you, hand on your stomach as he shook his head.

"and why's that, baby?" he wondered.

"he's been kicking like a boy, and i've got the skin to show it's a boy. i've always imagined that i'd be a boy mom," you answered with a shrug, leaning into his embrace comfortably. "and we've already got tate. i think it'll be another boy."

and he'd been alright with that. he let you have your dreams of what to name him and how you'd have him and tate match in little cowboy outfits. you even omitted the gender reveal in favor of it being a surprise, but also because you were so certain it was a boy.

but, when that little girl came out, you both were in instant happy tears.

kayce held her first due to some complications during birth, and he suddenly remembered the joy that came with being a father. as he stared down at his baby girl with eyes that matched his, he was flooded with a certain protectiveness that didn't come with tate. this was his little girl - nobody was going to mess with her.

to say she was spoiled by her daddy was an understatement. there wasn't a day that he didn't come home with a new handful of wildflowers, one for each of his girls, and sit on the floor having her explain all her little drawings to him. when tate would mess with her, teasing as a good older brother would, kayce would give him a stern shake of his head, holding her close to his chest as she sniffled.

"she ain't a boy, bud," he told him. "i know she's your sister and you wanna tease her, but you gotta treat her like a lady."

"i just wanna make her laugh," tate defended.

"find another way, okay pal? there's a million ways to make her laugh and only a few to make her cry. let's figure that out, alright?" he said, pulling the boy into his side for a hug. tate looked at his sister, thinking for a moment before making a funny face, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes as he pulled his mouth at a funny angle. she burst into a fit of giggles, kayce high-fiving him as she clambered out of his lap to go play with her older brother.

you had to be the one to teach her to rope and ride, ensuring she had the true makings of a cowgirl because kayce did not want that life for her. he hoped that she wouldn't ever end up with a cowboy. but, once she knew how to ride well enough, he'd take her on long rides with him and tate, explaining the beauties of montana to them both.

he first bought her a dress from a little boutique in town and a matching bow to go with it when she was five, beyond excited to dress her in it and take her out on a daddy daughter date. you took tate on a mommy son date that same night, smiling as you saw your husband and daughter eating ice cream through the store window as tate dragged you to the theater down the street.

kayce stayed protective, but supportive of what she wanted - except for when she started getting cutesy around the newest ranch hand rip had let stick around, a kid called carter. kayce nipped that one in the bud real fast.

he thrived as a father, it was his true calling, with both tate and your little girl. having both felt like his life had equalled out and he ensured they had a close bond as well. kayce isn't a girl dad or a boy dad, he's just a dad, and he loves it.

rip wheeler:

rip would never admit it, but whenever he imagined finding a girl, settling down, and starting a family, it was always filled with daughters. it was easy to assume that he'd want all boys - he was one of the most manly men montana had ever seen. but, with that, he felt a need to have girls to protect, to be strong for.

so when that first baby ended up a girl, he was silently ecstatic.

"baby, it's a girl," he mumbled to you, his smile the widest you'd seen it since your wedding day.

he was so supportive during labor, petting your hair out of your face as you squeezed his hand tightly. when your little girl finally started crying, he took her straight from the doctor and set her on your chest, one hand on your arm and the other on the baby's back.

he watched over the both of y'all carefully. it was obvious to everyone that you were his number one priorities, and if anyone so much as mentioned your names with the wrong tone he was ready to fight.

rip started taking her out on rides as soon as she was able to be strapped to his chest and sit on a horse without crying, which was actually awfully early. you told him it was only because she was his daughter that he was able to do this, but they both loved it. she was an expert rider by the time she was eight years old, and a good roper too.

you had two twin girls after her, both absolutely adored by rip and their older sister. you were able to go on family rides at that point, you and rip with each one of the littles in front of you and your oldest perched behind rip with wide wondering eyes.

"daddy, an eagle!" she cheered, pointing over his shoulder at a bald eagle flying over the trees.

"good eye, baby," rip said, smiling as he high-fived the little girl.

she quickly became his right hand man. even at four years old, she was grabbing him a banana for breakfast before he headed out the door or helping him clean his boots. the older she got, the more responsibility she got, which was fine by her. she was strong and determined and a total daddy's girl.

until she became a brother's girl.

carter showed up when she was seven and she fell in love with him quickly. he was sweet with her, carrying her on his back out to the barn as she helped him shovel stalls the best she could.

rip didn't know how to feel about it until you finally approached him about adopting carter.

"it wouldn't be anything official since neither of y'all have any documentation or anything," you told him, fiddling with your fingers. "but, that boy needs a home. and rip, i really love him, and so does she, and so do you. we've got one extra room and a place at the table. i want him here. you've seen him with our baby girl, he wants to be a part of this family too. please, rip."

and so that was that. after you sat the boy down and told him, he became even more dependable. he was an avid protector of your daughter and rip actually began smiling at the sight of the two of them walking around the ranch.

rip didn't love carter the same way he loved his baby girl, he was always meant to be a girl dad, but he appreciated him nonetheless. the way he was with rip's daughters helped secure him in the little wheeler family, and rip was happy about it.

ryan:

ryan was in no way prepared to be a father. when you told him you were pregnant he about shat himself.

"but we used protection," he said, eyes wide as he paced the bunkhouse.

"well, quite obviously it didn't work," you said. you grabbed his arms. "ryan, hun, it'll be okay. okay? it'll all work out, we'll figure it out."

"i don't have anything for you. i can't do anything for you. i don't have a house for myself, i barely have my own truck, i make enough to live but i don't know how to provide for you," he stressed.

"we'll figure it out," you emphasized again, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly.

and you did. with how long ryan had been working on the yellowstone ranch and how close your family was to the duttons (how you'd met ryan, actually), john gave you space in the main house to take care of you new little girl - heavens knew there was enough room, he barely even noticed you were there. he, himself, was kind of obsessed with the idea of having another pseudo grandchild, and ryan was convinced that was the only reason he worked it all out for y'all.

ryan was a nervous father. he was uber careful, keeping constant eyes on the baby or whoever was holding her. ninety percent of the time, that person was himself. he barely even let colby hold her and he cursed out jimmy when he asked, saying how he wasn't about to let that dumbass, brain-injured, bronco-riding klutz of a rodeo star hold his precious baby girl and drop her on her head just like his parents had done to him, obviously.

everyone had a good laugh about that one.

your little girl wasn't around the horses or cows, or even a damn rope for so much of her life, but what she was around was poker. ryan had her in his lap as they played cards since she was a month old and not sleeping through the night. somehow, impeccably, she went down without a fuss after sitting through a few games of cards with her father and his friends.

when she got a bit older, he taught her all his favorite childhood card games, but she got bored of them. when you first walked in on him explaining poker to her, you about smacked him upside the head, but when you saw her smiling and figuring out the order of the cards you let it slide.

"she'll be cheatin' out the rest of us in no time," ryan said, running a hand over her hair as he smiled up at you.

"whatever you say, cowboy," you sighed, sitting next to her and picking at the chips he'd laid out for her.

for her tenth birthday, he threw her a poker party with the rest of the wranglers, the duttons, tate, and carter, with ibc rootbeers in a cooler to make her feel just as cool as the rest of them. it was the first time she'd played with anyone but her parents, and she was stoked.

she smoked their asses.

they were freaking flabbergasted, even ryan. he pressed a kiss to her head, laughing as he congratulated her. "that's my kid, everybody."

lee dutton:

lee never wanted kids.

he knew it, you knew it, john knew it, hell, the whole family knew it. it was never in his plan.

but, you also weren't in his plan. he'd had a perfectly organized idea of being the forever bachelor of the yellowstone, hitting up bars for quick girls when he wanted a makeout or one night stand or whatever, and then returning to life on the ranch.

well, you showed up, a horse trainer from the sixes, travis wheatley's little sister, and he fell in love so fast he almost tripped over his feet. he rushed into dating you, proposing, and marrying you but no one in montana had any complaints, except for maybe your father, but he was in texas so it didn't matter in the long run. and he also, accidentally, rushed into getting you pregnant, which was not the goal at all.

"i know, and i'm sorry, but i'm keeping it, baby," you'd told him the night he found the test. you held his face in your hands, brows furrowed. "i want this. i hope you can understand that."

"i never wanted kids," he told you, shaking his head and breathing out a deep sigh. "but, uh, with you? with you, i'm not so opposed." he looked up at you, mustering a small, almost scared smile. "hell, we're already here, ain't we? let's fuckin do this thing, baby."

"language, lee," you laughed.

his mind was blown when you gave birth, absolutely scared and amazed out of his mind when the nurse handed over this perfect, slightly messy, bundle of pink blankets screaming bloody murder to him as they cleaned you up.

"holy shit," he muttered, staring down at his daughter with wide eyes.

"language, lee," you groaned, sitting up and reaching out for the baby. he handed her to you immediately, watching the both of you carefully.

his world changed that day.

as soon as you were ready to let her out of the house, he took her everywhere with him, and he was not ashamed about it. the strap-on baby carrier was his best friend as he walked around the house, grabbing her nursing bottles before heading out to the barn. john laughed when he saw him the first time.

"and what the hell are you doing? you can't cowboy with a baby, lee," he told his eldest.

"watch me," was his answer.

you didn't know he was doing all this, only being told that he'd take her out while you got some rest or did whatever you needed to get done. it was nice to have little breaks throughout the day, but you worried if she was hungry. well, until you saw the little bottle holster he'd made himself that he kept strapped to his side.

you almost thought it was ridiculous, but it was the best possible outcome you could've hoped for, so you let him take her out every few days.

that girl was practically a cowboy by the time she was five years old. she knew all the terms, had her own boots, was dressed in the same wranglers and carhartts as her dad and grandpa, and always was begging for a horse. she wasn't allowed quite yet, but lee promised her she'd get one eventually.

he took her out hunting with him basically her whole life, teaching her the sacredness and also the practicality of it. she became obsessed with guns when she was eight, something you became especially worried about. you made him put extra locks on each case and then on the safe, the fear of her getting into them eating you alive. she complained about not being able to get a tag until she was twelve, but you thanked the state for it.

lee, of course, found a workaround where she began shooting bucks as big as the bed of his truck when she was only ten because it was on the dutton property - who was going to know? if she could love him anymore than she already did, she definitely did after that.

you kept it to the one kid, knowing she was all lee could really handle. and you were both happy to have her be the center of your worlds. and as much as some traditional montanans might argue that dutton ranch's succession should be male, anyone who met your daughter knew that that little ten year old was as much a cowboy as anyone on the ranch, following in the large footsteps of her grandpa and father with exactness.

jimmy:

jimmy was ecstatic when he learned you were pregnant, as nervous as it made him too. everything in his life was starting to work out; he'd figured out his dream job - to be a horse trainer, he had a good job, y'all had just gotten married, and he bought his first house right by the sixes.

"this is perfect," he told you, kissing your forehead as he smile widely. "everything is so perfect now, darlin'."

when you learned it was a girl that day at the doctor's office, he was even more ecstatic.

"our little cowgirl," you told him as he pulled you into his side.

"our little cowgirl," he nodded, a certain proud smile on his lips as he thought about what it'd be like raising a little cowgirl as a real cowboy now himself.

now that he had money, and good money too, he let himself go out and buy the baby all sorts of things, from cow printed blankets to little stuffed horses. you laughed when he came home one day with tiny little baby boots.

he put them on her as soon as she'd grown enough to give him the chance. he held her hands as he walked her around the room, the small girl bouncing a bit as she situated in her boots.

"i know they're kinda funny, hun," he hummed to her as she walked with him. "but, they're actually the best sort of shoe. you're gonna love 'em."

his favorite part of the day had always been coming home to you, but it was even better now that he had two people to come home to. and she loved her daddy, babbling with that big baby smile as she crawled to him. he'd always scoop her up into his arms and give her a big kiss on the cheek before walking through the rest of the house to find you.

he told her stories about the yellowstone ranch when he tucked her into bed, her favorite black and white spotted stuffed horse in her arms as she gazed up at him with a smile and big hazel eyes that mirrored his own.

when she got older, you started bringing her down to the arena to show her what exactly her daddy did. at that point, he was on travis' main team of show horse trainers, and he was happy to show off for his wife and little girl. she was always excited to watch him, hanging off the fence with a wide grin as you stood behind her, waving at your husband just as travis yelled at him to get back to work. it was the first time jimmy had ever really talked back to him, yelling not to curse when his daughter was around. travis never did it again and began to show off for the eight year old when she was around too.

she was spunky, way spunkier than jimmy was ready for and sassier than he ever had been. "she gets this from you."

when she went to travis asking for her own horse and better lessons, her brows raised and arms crossed over her chest, jimmy nearly had a heart attack. he dismounted his horse, crossing to his daughter but not making it before travis responded.

"what do i get if i do? horses aren't free, you know."

"a new trainer," she answered, nodding at him firmly. "i've seen y'all do this my whole life. i've rode my whole life. just gimme a shot."

at the ripe age of ten, she'd managed to convince travis wheaton to give her a horse, let her dad teach her, and the opportunity to stay on as she trained. travis laughed when he passed jimmy, shaking his head. "i hate to break it to you, but she ain't your kid, jimmy."

jimmy breathed a sigh of relief before he pulled her up onto his horse, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

"you've really got to talk to me about things like that before you just do it," he said. "that's my boss, you know that?"

"he ain't my boss," she laughed, kissing her dad on the cheek.

spencer dutton:

spencer had always wanted kids. and ever since he met you he knew he wanted to have them with you. but, life as a hunter in africa was dangerous enough as it is that you both agreed to wait.

life had other plans.

well, you weren't exactly careful, for one, and for two birth control was iffy, so you should've seen it coming sooner or later. it probably should've been later, but what the hell.

he decided that was the right time to quit being a predator hunter then and did what he could to get you both back to montana, hopefully before you popped. you didn't argue - you wanted to be home when you had your baby too. he took excellent care of you on each ship, each town, and on the train west, ensuring you always had water and foods that didn't make you want to throw up, being a constant pillow for when your body decided it needed a nap, and paying for the most comfortable accommodations the different vessels had.

you didn't know the gender of the baby until after you had her. you were exhausted, but spencer had been right by your side the whole way through, smoothing your hair back and cooling you down with a wet cloth as cara coached you through it.

the look on his face when cara exclaimed it was a girl was one you would never forget; a mixture between love, adoration, and excitement, and fear, protectiveness, and anxiety.

he coddled that baby girl. every night, he spent hours cooing to her as he rocked in the rocking chair his father had built when he was just a baby. he told her stories about cowboying and africa, sang her lullabies cara used to sing to him, and never missed an opportunity to kiss her sweet chubby cheeks.

"you're so good with her," you mumbled to him one night as you sat on his lap in the chair, head tucked into his neck as he held you in one arm and the baby in the other. "how do you do it?"

"i don't know," he whispered, glancing at you with a gentle smile before you both returned your gazes to your daughter. "loving her comes as easily to me as loving you. it's as natural as anything i've ever felt."

"so it's just instinct that helps you calm her in any situation?" you asked.

"well, i can't calm her in every situation," he said with a quiet chuckle. "you've got the only solution sometimes. but, yeah. i guess in other ways it is."

then things got worse with whitfield and the ranch. she was older then, about six, and spencer made sure she knew to never go anywhere alone, to scream for help if she ever saw anyone she didn't know on the ranch (because she knew and adored literally every cowboy working for jacob), and to run. fast.

and she was fast. like, surprisingly fast. she took great pleasure in challenging spencer and jack and jacob to races. spencer and jack always pretended to let her win, and so did jacob, but after he got shot she actually did start to win. when he was told to walk around to get better, she thought she would be encouraging by walking right by his side a little faster than he was able to. it did actually get him moving quicker, but cara was constantly rolling her eyes as she did it.

when she got older, of course spencer taught her how to shoot and hunt.

"this is what daddy did before you were born, princess," he told her as he helped her line up the sight to the target.

"kill things?" she asked, raising her brows. you laughed as you sat to the side, watching in amusement.

he cleared his throat, his brows furrowing a bit. "well, i mean, yes, but i was protecting people from animals that wanted to hurt them. and other times getting food for the family."

"so, do i have to get food for the family now?" she asked, looking down at the gun. he laughed.

"you don't have to, no," he reassured. "i just wanted to show you. it's something i love to do, and something to protect you. that's why mama knows."

"mama knows?"

"yes, i do, baby," you chimed in with a smile. "he showed me back when we were just teenagers. he's a lot better than me though, so you listen to him."

"can we shoot something real next time?" she asked, glancing back at spencer.

"maybe not next time, but when you get enough practice in then yeah," he answered.

"when is that?"

she had a lot of questions. and she always asked them. but, spencer was as even kiln as ever, so patient when he responded to her and made sure her curious little mind found the answers it needed.

but, whenever you thought of spencer as a father, there was always one night that came to mind. she was probably four and it was way past her bedtime. y'all had put her to sleep maybe ten times before she finally stayed in her room and you left to hopefully get some rest.

except spencer turned on the radio. you'd just gotten it the day before and were so excited about it and when he flicked it on, some slow, country tune was playing through it. he took you in his arms then, holding you close to his chest with his lips on your temple, swaying you both gentle along to the tune.

you were smiling the whole time, letting him twirl you once before bringing you in close again. only a few minutes into your impromptu slow dancing, your door was pushed open and in walked your toddler.

there was no shouting or frustrated demand for her to go back to sleep, even though that was very tempting given your last hundred tries to have her do just that. instead, spencer pressed a kiss to your head and twirled you out of his arms as he moved to scoop her up instead. he held her up with one arm, his other holding her hand as he spun slowly in circles.

"if i let you dance with mommy and me will you stay in bed?" he said, raising his brows as he met the eyes that matched his. she giggled, nodding as he kissed her cheek. "okay, then let's dance baby."

you leaned up against the bed frame, watching them with crossed arms and a smile as the music played through the small radio. he met your eyes and his smile grew, slowly spinning his way over to you. releasing your daughter's hand, he took yours instead and pulled you in close. his hand moved to your waist and soon you had your arms wrapped around him and your baby girl as he held her between you, swaying slowly.

as the song ended, he twirled you and then spun himself to earn a giggle from the toddler before setting her down and taking her small hand to give her a twirl as well.

your heart was so full in that moment. when he returned from tucking her in for the (hopefully) last time, you kissed him slowly, pulling away with a soft smile.

"you're a good dad, spencer," you told him. he shrugged, pulling you back in to hold you in a gentle embrace.

"you're a good mom. you make it easy for me."

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thanks for reading! leave a request in the comments or message me privately! i love writing, so if you've got an idea you need fleshed out on paper i'd love to be the one to do that for you

masterlist!!

[thewitchblue]

"Are you... reading Twilight?"

You had asked Jason, who broke into your apartment while you were gone grocery shopping. He only gave you a hum and continued reading as you set your grocery bags on your kitchen table.

You watched him turn the page and felt a sense of dread. It was your copy from when you were 13 years old. It had notes and doodles in the margins. Did he read your notes? Of course he would. He reads the annotated versions of Jane Austen he has for fun. Why wouldn't he read your notes? The world seemed to be against you this day.

You were so mortified you didn't even hear him laugh at a doodle you had of Edward biting a dog with the word "nom" next to it. He was almost done with the book.

You've only been dating for a handful of months. Would the notes break up your relationship? You don't remember the majority of them.

You haven't touched the trilogy since school, and you originally didn't even want to read it. The social pressure from your friends became to be too much, and it felt like a religious experience at the time.

You had forgotten about the book entirely in the years you've had it crammed in a bookcase next to the rest of the series, which, with great horror, you saw he also pulled out to read.

"Don't tell me you're enjoying the book."

You said in disbelief. The memories run through your head of your blushing cheeks at simple words on pages while the girls ganged up on you to ask which team your on. What team is Jason on? Or has he read this before behind closed doors? He shrugged and simply replied,

"I am."

You wanted to bolt out the door, but you had melting limited addition candy cane ice cream in your grocery bag.

Instead of running away, you bravely start putting away your groceries with your eyes trained on Jason. He seemed to genuinely enjoy your trashy romance book that's so incredibly dated. This is so bizarre to you. He's a fan of the classics and loves books that he can revisit without cringing.

The book appeared partially destroyed by the abyss of your backpack with a torn cover and a broken spine, but it drew Jason's attention. Of course, it would draw his attention. He always said a well loved book is one you take everywhere. A book with a broken spine and torn cover is going to make him curious.

He never had the normal teenage phase, so he's never read the book. He was curious, and he was rewarded so far. He understands now why teenagers like the trilogy so far.

You decided to break into the ice cream. You tensed at every page turned. What did you write in there? You tried to remember. You vaguely remember writing "yummy muscles" on a page. You cringed. Oh, the horrors of a horny teen.

The ice cream was as delicious as you expected it to be. How could you look him in the eyes ever again? Will he tell the whole family? You were stress eating.

Jason finished the book and went to pick up the next one, but you plucked it out of his hands before he could open it and grabbed the final book as well.

"I'm seriously going to throw these in the shredder."

Jason smirked at you. He enjoyed your little doodles and notes. It was as if he was meeting you when you were kids. He pointed out,

"I think they are too big to shred, pipsqueak."

You pouted, which only made him more amused. He pulled you into his lap and kissed your cheek. You huffed,

"I can still try."

He laughed. You were so adorable. He might have to embarrass you more. He murmured to you,

"I especially enjoyed your note of 'delicious dog meat.'"

You groaned and held your face in your hands, making the books fall to the floor. You hated your past self in this moment. Why did you keep those books? For Jason to show up and read them?

The feeling of dread eventually went away the more he kissed you. You filed away the fact you can know for a fact Jason read Twilight now, and part of you wondered if he'll spiral into the hellscape of fanfiction as a result. You are going to burn those books.

You like to think you ended up with a better love story than Twilght. Sure, you may be dating a zombie instead of a vampire or werewolf like teen you had wanted (if we can have Superman, we can have a sexy vampire or werewolf), but your zombie is perfect in his own ways.