#WHAT STARTED OFF AS ME TRYING TO MAKE A PINTEREST BOARD FOR MYSELF FOR A CERTAIN... AU...

[starry-sophrosyne]

✧ ‧˚₊ Starry Moodboard and...

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+ Starry Overstimulated Stimboard  ִ ֗ ☆ ⁎·ﾟ

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[honeytonedhottie]

starting ur fitness girlie era⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌷

starting ur fitness girlie era is actually super easy! its consistency and discipline where most ppl struggle. i hope this post can help make the sustenance of ur fitness girlie era super easy and fun + some fun working out resources to start ✨

FOR CLARITY ;

when starting anything, the most important thing, although cliche is starting from a place of love rather then hate. it feels better and is more sustainable in the long run.

be clear on your goals for ur fitness girlie era. is this something that u wanna maintain in ur day to day life for general health? do you wanna gain/lose some weight? do you just wanna be stronger?

knowing what ur trying to achieve makes finding workouts that target your goal specifically more easy (the more specific the better)

WHERE DOES NUTRITION COME INTO PLAY ;

you should be fueling ur body properly in order for ur body to function well when ur in ur fitness girlie era. if ur goal for example is to gain weight but u notice that u have a habit to eat very little, make a log.

WIEIAD LOG (NUTRITION CONTINUED) ;

i started a what i eat in a day log for a couple reasons. one bcuz i love lists and documenting things about myself, and two bcuz i wanted to make sure that i was eating well and eating good quality foods. bcuz i notice that when i eat well -> i feel well.

eat to fuel your body, dont eat just to eat

include fresh foods

make sure that you eat healthy portions (calling four almonds a meal is NOT healthy, and calling six pizza pies a meal is NOT healthy)

overall just be mindful of what u decide to fuel your body with. an easy drink that helps to be mindful with what u fuel ur body with is with SMOOTHIES.

im so sick of ppl sleeping on smoothies cuz if u dont like to directly eat vegetables or if u want an easy way to intake fresh fruits and veggies smoothies are the way to GO.

ROMANTICIZATION ;

the fun part of the whole journey, romanticization. made a pinterest board for ur fitness journey aesthetic and make it super pretty. invest in cute workout clothes to motivate urself to workout.

formulate a playlist for ur workout, something that gives u energy and motivates you. find a workout class or a youtube channel that you love. dont make working out BORING. get a workout buddy, make some video diary entries about working out/ur workout for the day.

make a blog that records whatever workout that u did. find fun ways to work out, like dancing or going on hot girl walks. create an atmosphere where u can work out and treat the time that u spend working out as a time to nurture and nourish your body.

PATIENCE AND PERSISTENCE ;

motivation isnt going to get u through a sustainable fitness girl journey, motivation can only get you so far. its DISCIPLINE that gets you the results that you want and consistency.

be patient with yourself even if u fall off ur routine and grind, ur only human so let yourself live. as long as you dont make falling off a habit, you'll be okay.

make sure that u emphasize the mind -> body connection bcuz thats super important. working out is not just about working up a sweat; it's about connecting with your body and embracing the mind-body connection.

FUN AND EFFECTIVE WAYS TO WORKOUT ;

le sserafim workout - i've done the le sserafim workout once or twice and it absolutely destroyed me 💀 but in a good way. its challenging but its also rly effective so i recommend.

dancing - if ur into dancing, find a way of dancing that u enjoy to do. some examples include ; ballet, kpop dances, jazz etc

join a sport - join a sport with a friend to make it more fun! but theres lots of different sports that u can play and not only is it good for ur health, but its also super fun

[richarlotte]

365 Days from Rot to Hot (Pt. 3).

Find your colors. You could use AI, take a trip to Lowe’s (this is one of the things I did), or actually use a service, but sorting out what colors suit you is essential. A major part of building my blend and creating my personal style was based around finding things that suited me, and I do believe that you shouldn’t start buying clothes or putting a look together unless you know your undertone, have a grasp of your colors and your body type, understand your seasons, and are prepared to experiment with what you’ve learned. Finding your colors should be the first step you take, as it will make the process of creating looks easier and give you a general idea of what things will look good on you.

Search for inspiration and don’t hold yourself back. It’s your life; it’s your fashion; it’s your style. You can be as basic or as eccentric as you want. If you think Kendall Jenner and Hailey Bieber are goddesses, then take inspiration from them. If you’re a budding Betsey Johnson or a Lisa Frank and want to design your own clothes and make them even brighter, then do that. If you’re obsessed with Bella Hadid’s western era and want to chase your own wild horses, then go ahead. I’d recommend doing what I did and creating a number of Pinterest boards and using Instagram to create polyvore-like style and vision boards.

Set a reasonable budget and stick with it. You cannot spend more than you have, and it’s not wise to get into debt pursuing a lifestyle that you know you can’t afford in the long run. Create a reasonable budget and work with it; don’t try to work around it. I found myself shopping from Walmart, Meijer, Gap, and J. Crew Factory and looking for sales before I bought anything. Don’t jump into the process and waste your money buying everything straight off the racks; utilize stores like TJ Maxx, look for sales, use what you already have, and really make an effort to make your dollar stretch. Another part of working with your budget is not blowing it by shopping at Shein; if you buy something and then have to throw it out and rebuy it after 5 wears, you’re not actually getting any bang for your buck.

Utilize Pinterest and social media to find women that look like you. An integral part of creating your own blend and finding what works for you is seeing it on other women. I followed a number of women that looked like me and didn’t look like me, lived in areas of the world I found fascinating, and had tastes that I wouldn’t describe as mainstream. I used a number of different languages to search for the trends that I liked; I used Twitter and Instagram to look at hashtags; and I took total advantage of the resources I was able to access. I used magazines, went through online archives, and spent time building my ideal image. Was it perfect? No, but as time passed, it became more and more helpful, and it eventually became the Pinterest board that I use now and my main vision board.

Tie it all together and see how things work. I had to experiment with so many different looks, delete and recreate so many vision boards, and try things for myself. Am I a hairstylist? No, but I’m also not a billionaire, so I had to learn how to style my wigs to see what suited me. I went to stores to try things on, experimented with IG to see if certain pieces of jewelry would suit me, and had the time of my life during my experimentation phase. Collecting online images isn’t enough, and it’s very hard to actually get a grasp of what you like if you’re doing everything online. Try your lookout, put things together, adjust it as you please, and tie your loose ends up.

Pt. 4 to come next.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

pinch me

the wistful wyvern, chapter eight

a/n: i can’t believe this is the last chapter… this whole series is the thing that i’ve let myself go the most crazy with and not held back, so it’s kinda bittersweet when it comes to a close. it’s hard to say goodbye and let go of something you put so much work into, but it’s incredible to finally share the ending with you all so you can enjoy the story in its entirety.

summary: the wrestling was playful as you slowly shuffled further into the sparse cluster of trees. Giggling and shrieking, your back eventually collided with the trunk of a tree and Bucky pinned your hands above your head. 

warnings: knight!bucky barnes x knight!reader, smut, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, ex-friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, former fuckboy!bucky, tattooed!bucky, forced proximity, violence, injuries, kissing, oral, dirty talk, impact play, size kink, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, protected sex (a fantasy birth control tea commonly used by men), creampie, time jump

word count: 2562

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“You know, it’s still not too late for you to apologise, we can both just go on our separate way,” you shrugged as you dodged the blow thrown by one of the bandits still on his feet before you. 

“Fuck you, you cunt!” he simply spat back. 

Blinking a moment, your head tilted slightly as you breathed out, “alright then,” and then clocked him in the face, making him stumble back, clutching his battered nose. 

One of the outlaws in the grass then lifted himself back up onto his feet behind where you stood and charged at you, raising the dull axe in his grasp up to attack. 

He only managed to nick your arm, and though a small cry did tumble out of your lungs, only a second passed before your fingers wrapped around the hilt of the weapon and you bashed the blunt side back against the bloke, knocking him back onto the ground. 

“You good?” Bucky’s voice found your ears and you glanced over to see him wrestling with his own half of the dubious group.

“Oh yeah,” you smiled and tossed the rusty axe further down into the field that unfolded on the side of the road, “I’m great,” before whacking your elbow over the dirty-mouthed man who stumbled back towards you, blood dribbling from his nose. 

Barely looking at his own opponents, the corners of your partner’s lips curled up as he purred, “that’s my girl.”

You had started by giving the highway robbers a generous out, stating that a fight between you two wardens and the eight of them just wouldn’t be fair. If they’d let one of you sit that one out and only fought either you or Bucky, then perhaps it would have evened the playing field just a bit more.

Yet, they didn’t heed your warnings and ended up losing in the blink of an eye. 

“You guys should really consider a career change,” you said as they all laid dazed and bruised on the ground, “or at the very least get better at this one.” 

As the pair of you went through and kicked their weapons far enough out of their reach, Bucky cast a glance at the boulder of a man curled up on the ground and clutching his arm. 

“Hey buddy,” your fellow warden called, “try and keep that elevated till you see a healer.” 

“Fuck you,” he groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“You were the one that fell on it,” his arms raised up before he looked to the other bandits, “guys, can you please make sure he gets that checked out?” and after they grumbled in agreement to help their stubborn friend, Bucky exhaled, “great,” and turned to grasp Echo’s reins, the black stallion only a few paces away from the aftermath, “well, have a nice life!”

“See,” you uttered as the pair of you began to walk off, tugging the horse along, “I told you we shouldn’t have taken this road. I was a criminal, I know what roads are hot for highway robbers.”

“Yeah, well, you were always smarter than me,” he chuckled, then smirked in your direction, “isn’t that what you used to say whenever I’d let you win during training? That I might be stronger, but you’re smarter?”

“You did not let me win,” you gasped, immediately defending your recollection, “I always won fair and square!”

“Hm,” he hummed as he let his gaze dance over the patchy cluster of trees that began to bloom on the right-hand side of the dirt road, “you sure about that?” 

“Oh really?” your head cocked as you smiled back at him, “you wanna fucking go, Barnes?” 

“Why not?” he reached out to tickle your waist, “just had a little warm-up, didn’t we?” 

As Bucky let go of the reins, Echo simply dipped his head down to graze on the long grass below. 

The wrestling was playful as you slowly shuffled further into the sparse cluster of trees. Giggling and shrieking, your back eventually collided with the trunk of a tree and Bucky pinned your hands above your head. 

As you gazed back into his blue stare, the laughter began to fade from you both as another instinct entirely took over. 

Tilting his head, Bucky captured your lips and kissed you fiercely. His fingers, enclosed around your wrists, flexed as your lips parted in a giddy groan and made way for his tongue to slip past and catch a taste of your own. 

When his grip eventually loosened around you, his fingers floated down to weave within your hair and tilt your face to deepen the hungry kiss. 

Then, as your hands had started scraping down the cool iron of the partial chainmail on his torso, the tiny loops grazing your skin gently, he pulled back just enough for you both to catch your breath.

“Drop your drawers, snow,” he commanded playfully, nuzzling his nose softly against your own. 

His head tilted slightly so that his forehead rested against your own, and he shared your breath, as your fingers desperately soared to fulfil his demand. Undoing your pants, you swiftly shimmied them down till they were kicked off into the wild grass. 

After stealing another kiss from you, a smile then spread across your face as you watched Bucky sink down to his knees before you. Planting pecks across your thighs, his gaze flickered up to capture yours as his lips danced up to your right hipbone. 

“Please don’t make me beg,” you chuckled and ran a hand through his brown locks. 

“But you sound so pretty when you do,” he smirked. The closer his peppering pecks got to your centre, the sloppier they grew, “just as pretty as when I do this,” he then closed the distance and flicked his tongue teasingly through your folds, dragging a whimper out of your throat. 

Thankfully, he only kept his cruelly light licks to a minimum before he lapped at you properly, swapping your squirming jolts out with a trembling rocking as he savoured your slickness swiftly soaking his short beard. 

Throwing your head back against the tree trunk, your fingers tangled in his hair as he enclosed around your clit. As your gaze fluttered down for his stare to capture yours, a warm rumble vibrated against your pearl as his eyes crinkled up and he smiled against your pussy. 

“O-oh, just like that,” you uttered breathily as your fingers combed through his locks before finding purchase in them, “feels so fucking good.”

His broad palms curled around to your bottom and groped the curve a moment before one of his hands slid down your thigh and plucked it off of the ground, hooking it over his wide shoulder and thereby drawing you that much closer to his greedy tongue. 

Tilting your hips slightly, his sloppy efforts only managed to wander down to your other hole for one kiss before everything unravelled inside of you and you came all over his face. 

Standing back up to his full height, Bucky ducked down to steal a brief kiss from your breathless lips, letting you taste yourself still freshly lingering on his tongue, before fervently spinning you around. 

Bracing against the tree, you peeked over your shoulder as his fingers hastily undid his trousers, his heavy lids staying glued to your backside. 

Silky moans seeped out of the both of you in unison when he slowly buried himself in you. Melting down against your spine a moment, you felt the reassuring weight of his head against your shoulder, panting against your tunic, as his girth settled inside of you, your cunt dripping around him, begging for his movements to pick up.

“Fuck, I love you,” he hissed as he dragged his cock back out, just till the memory of him remained before slamming back inside, harshly enough for you to lose your breath. 

His presence dissipated from your spine as he straightened up. One of his hands trailed down your back, bending you over more, before it settled parallel to the other around your hips. 

Scratching against the dark bark, you whimpered every time his thrusts concluded with a teasing tap against your puffy pearl from his heavy sack. 

“Shit,” he groaned loudly, “your little pussy’s gripping onto me so tight,” in awe, he glanced down at how snugly your cunt was clinging onto his cock, “does it feel good, baby? Does your pussy like being stretched out by me?” he landed a few electric slaps to your ass, “because it sure fucking feels like it… gods, she’s creaming all over me, turning my dick all fucking milky…” 

“I–, I–,” your fluttering moans found their way out your throat as your fingers left the tree and reached back to blindly grab for him.

“What?” he swiftly captured your searching hand in his and slowed his efforts just enough for you to think, “what is it, snow?”

Your brain was all jumbled, so all you managed to mumble was, “…kiss…” 

Curling his burly arms around your form, your brows crinkled up as he then slipped out before guiding you back around to face him. 

Planting his lips to yours in a soft and slow peck, your molten arms slid up to wrap around his neck. 

“Is this better?” his nose ghosted against your own, “huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded lightly, your features nuzzling against his as you did. 

“You good?” his gentle exhale seeped into your bones. 

A soft smile then tipped up your lips as you uttered, “I’m phenomenal…” 

Mirroring your own grin, he captured your lips once more before he plucked your left leg up off the ground. Sweeping his tip through your glinting folds, he nudged at your clit long enough to make you wiggle in his grasp before he dipped down to your drooling entrance and slowly slid back in. 

“Ah,” you gasped and your head tilted away from his a moment as he split you back open for him, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, I love you,” his grip dented your flesh as he settled back into a silky pace, pumping in and out of your creamy cunt, “o-oh, fuck!”

Picking your other leg up, he lifted you into his strong arms and your ankles swiftly hooked around his frame. 

Sloppy symphonies of your skin clapping against each other resonated every time he lifted you off his cock, dragging you over every detail of his fat girth before slamming you back down on it. The sounds echoed throughout the surroundings, dominating your attention rather than the wistful birdsongs that your lustful ears filtered out. 

It didn’t take very long of him carrying you close and fucking you nearly through the tree that scrapped at your spine, before your body went as tight as a bowstring taking aim, and shaky profanities leaked out past your panting breaths as you tumbled over the edge.

Bucky’s mouth was hot on the side of your neck as you clambered around him, your pussy completely choking his throbbing length, and a gravelly groan rumbled against your skin as he swiftly emptied himself in your haven. 

With his load dripping down onto the tall grass as he continued to cradle you in his arms, his softening girth stayed buried in you as you caught your breaths. 

“See?” his heavy exhale fanned across your cheek as the side of his head rested against yours, “told you I used to let you win.”

“Oh,” you playfully chuckled, tilting your chin enough to find his hazy gaze, “you think you won just now?” 

“Yeah, I clearly did.” 

“Did you though,” you cocked your head, “or did I just let you?” 

His eyes then narrowed to a squint as he sucked in a breath, “…rematch,” he declared, “as soon as we get home.”

“Really? You wanna wait–, what, a whole hour?” you guessed the time reminding till you arrived back to Borün. 

“Yes, I wanna wait a whole hour,” a sly smirk crept up on his face as he slowly inched in closer, “one hour and then I finally get to throw you around in my own bed…” 

FIVE YEARS LATER, ON THE THIRTIETH DAY OF SUMMER 863 PR

“Pinch me,” you murmured through your grin as Bucky’s kisses nipped down the column of your neck.     

“What,” he smirked against your skin, clearly assuming you wanted to heat up your impromptu make-out session, “right here?”

Your glance flickered to the rest of the topiary garden, that sprouted in the centre of the great castle that was Fort Borün, and hoped that the pair of you were tucked away well enough in the semi-secluded corner for the other guests, who were up at the palace to round off the annual summer solstice festival, not to notice your intimate activities. 

Not taking his lewd thought to heart, you went on and uttered, “it must be a dream, being here with you and in this beautiful place,” the smile on your lips grew wider as you reflected on the way your life looked now. Growing up you’d never dare to let yourself imagine anything like this, being so safe and at peace, living in a comfortable little cabin by the sea with the love of your life, “you my husband and I your wife…”

Tilting his head back up to be at your level, he caught your glinting eye and reassured you, “you’re not dreaming, snow,” one of his thumbs then swiped a few times at the hold he had on your waist. Leaning back in, his lips then tilted back up into a devilish smirk as he asked, “but can I still pinch you?” 

As his fingers tightened around you and he leaned back down to seize your lips again, a giggle bubbled out of you and your palms swept up to his chest to keep him at bay, “not here!”

And just then, as your husband’s kisses began to bloom across your skin once more, burning so hot you nearly gave in, a pair of tiny footsteps echoed throughout the courtyard. 

“Uncle Buck! Uncle Buck!” 

Turning around, both of your glances fell upon the little princess that appeared around the central fountain.

“Cora, isn’t it well past your bedtime?” Bucky cocked his head gently. 

“Papa promised I could dance one last time and you never gave me all of yours!” Cordelia demanded with a raised finger, “you still owe me one.”

Sucking in a breath, he nodded lightly, “I did promise you five, didn’t I?” and his gaze flickered up to spot the king as he caught up to his daughter.

Catching the tail end, Steve’s brows shot up, “she made you agree to five?” 

“Well, I don’t know how to say no to that face,” the fellow warden beside you shrugged and gestured down to the little girl, “I mean look at her!” 

Letting out a soft sigh, the king then tilted his head as a light plea flowed out past his gentle smile, “Bucky, please just dance with my daughter or she won’t let me tuck her into bed.”

Taking a step further away from you, Bucky then smiled down at the princess, “your highness,” and offered her his hand, “shall we?”

Snatching it up, a bright giggle then billowed out of the little girl as she dragged him back inside. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[jaxteller87]

‘sweet and filthy bedtime story

Jax’s POV

It started like any other quiet morning. The kids were with Gemma for the weekend, and I was soaking in the rare silence that comes when you’re not running guns, chasing Mayans, or explaining to the Irish why they can’t use the word ‘favor’ when they mean to say ‘murder.’

I was looking for the TV remote, digging through the couch like it was a damn treasure hunt when I found Amber’s phone.

It was unlocked so naturally, I tapped the screen, expecting a recipe to pop up, maybe some Pinterest boards. You know— normal wife stuff.

Instead, it picked up right where she left off.

“I wrapped my hands around her throat, and she grinned. Remember your safe word, kitten…”

I blinked. I had that feeling of being a kid and finding something scandalous. After I made sure that the coast was clear, I sat back. My jaw hung open in amazement like I’d just seen Clay in a tutu.

‘What the hell did I just hear?’

I swiped up to see what the app was. It was some kind of... audiobook?

If you wanted to call it that. But this wasn’t Pride and Prejudice, my sweet little Amber was listening to straight-up porn-on-tape.

And it wasn’t the softcore kind either. This was the real deal. The voice actor sounded like a cross between Morgan Freeman and a southern mechanic. Smooth, low, gravelly. The way the guy said ‘kitten’ almost made me question myself.

I started scrolling. Not because I was snooping— but because I was trying to understand what she was into. Well, that and I guess I was snooping a little too…

Searches included:

Praise

Degrading

Anal

Bondage

Phone sex

Age difference

Makeup sex

Role play

69

I actually whispered, “Jesus Christ, Amber…” out loud when it was supposed to be under my breath. I would expect this kind of thing if I’d just opened Tig’s browsing history, but not my darlin’ Amber.

Okay, if I’m being honest, it wasn’t too shocking— I know she can have a dirty little mind at times— but God damn.

This? This was Tig-level filth. Hell, I bet this could even make stonecold Happy blush— and that is no easy task.

But then, right under all that, I saw her saved favorites.

Aftercare

Praise

Boyfriend banter

Sleep aid

Silver linings

Affirmations

And after that, it made a little more sense. My girl didn’t just want heat. She wanted heart. Or so her browsing history would suggest. She wanted someone to make her feel safe and seen, even when it got dark and dirty.

Now that— that I understood.

I was mid-thought, still holding her phone, when I heard the telltale sound of her chair rolling up behind me.

“Please God, no. Tell me you’re not…” Amber’s voice trailed off.

I turned around slowly like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “So... you listen to porn. That’s uh— that’s cool.”

I grinned, teasing. She wheeled over, laughing nervously. Her face was redder than the time some kid nicked Bobby’s suitcase containing his Elvis costume before a show, and he had to chase him two blocks to get it back. The only reason the kid dropped it was because he was laughing so hard at Bobby trying to keep up.

“I’ve been judging myself for months,” she groaned, trying to hide her face in my chest.

I reached over and pulled her into my lap, gently. “C’mere.”

I wrapped my arms around her. “So... a few days ago when I barely got through the door and you jumped me like a cat on caffeine... that was audiobook-fueled, huh?”

She groaned louder. “I will never recover from this conversation.”

“Hey. Look at me…kitten,” I teased.

“Christ, Jax!” She peeked up. Her cheeks were burning, but she was smiling.

“Ha! I couldn’t resist. But listen, if this stuff makes you feel good, makes you more open with me—hell yeah, I’m on board,” I said. “Although, gotta admit, that ‘choking’ line? Took me by surprise.”

“I actually stopped listening to that one,” she laughed. “It was a bit much, even for me. But the narrator… his voice is a lot like yours. Soothing. Kinda cocky.”

“Well, now you’re just flattering me,” I smirked.

She leaned closer. “There’s something about how he mixes the dirty with the sweet stuff. Like, one minute it’s ‘be my good little plaything,’ and the next it’s ‘I love how safe you feel in my arms.’ That’s what I enjoy.”

I nodded. “Balance. Kinda like us.”

Then I grinned wider. “You ever think about us when you listen to those?”

She didn’t even answer. Just buried her face in my chest again like she wanted to crawl into my ribcage and die.

“That’s a yes,” I teased.

“…That’s why I jumped you last week when you got home early,” she mumbled.

I laughed and kissed her forehead. “You’re adorable.”

Later that week, I was at the clubhouse doing some club shit.

“Hey, Jax,” Tig called out as I walked into the lounge. “You ever do the thing where you read erotica out loud to your old lady while doing… the deed?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Y’know,” he shrugged. “Multi-tasking. Like a bedtime story, but with more... spanking.”

Chibs leaned back, sipping his beer. “Jesus, Tiggy. What the hell are you watching now?”

“Wasn’t me!” Tig defended. “I heard it from Ratboy. Apparently, it’s a thing now.”

Ratboy shrugged. “My uncle started taking these romance classes online, some broad he was talkin’ to said she was into it now, it’s all he talks about. My girl likes it too, so…”

“Only thing I read to my woman is the expiration date on condoms,” Piney muttered from the couch. “If I still had one.”

We all just stared at him.

“What?” He belted.

I sat down next to Bobby, who had his feet up and was polishing his guitar. “Amber’s been listening to those audiobooks.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Like romance?”

I coughed. “Like... porn. With a plot. Mostly.”

Chibs grinned. “Plot’s overrated, aye. It’s just filler between the good stuff.”

Tig leaned in. “Want me to start recording some lines for you?”

I glared. “If you ever send my wife an audio file, I’ll have Happy shave your balls while you sleep.”

“Who’s to say they’re not already shaved?” Tig retorted.

“With a machete,” I added.

Tig gulped. “Noted, VP.”

Later that night, back at home, Amber was curled up in bed, earbuds in, cheeks a little flushed. I crawled in beside her and snatched one out.

“Guess what.”

“What?” she smiled.

“I made you a playlist.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Not that kind of playlist,” I chuckled. “But... maybe later.”

I held up my phone. “One track. Narrated by yours truly. It’s not exactly smut... but it starts with us on my bike, riding down a dirt road, your arms around my waist, your head pressed to my back…”

She stared at me, eyes wide. “You did that?”

“Yup. Voice and all. Even dropped a ‘kitten’ in there for authenticity.”

She laughed, full-bodied and bright. “You’re ridiculous. But I would have settled for ‘darlin.’”

“Understood,” I said with a kiss.

“No worries,” Amber kissed me back. “Just make sure the sequel is chock-full of’em.”

Ambers POV

My back ached. My arms felt like overcooked spaghetti. And if someone so much as breathed in my direction with a bad attitude, I’d consider running them over— with love, of course.

I tossed my keys into the dish by the door and wheeled straight into the living room, muttering under my breath like some scheming, grumpy cartoon witch.

Jax wasn’t home yet. The house was quiet, and the fading afternoon sun made everything feel a little warmer than it was.

All I wanted was to kick back, throw on my earbuds, and let a smooth-talking stranger tell me I was the center of the universe while also calling me names I’d slap someone for in public.

Don’t judge me. Women contain multitudes.

I tapped my audiobook app and pressed play.

And froze.

“Hey, Angel. You’re right. I listened to more of those stories. And yeah… the sound effects? Kinda cringe, as the kids say these days.”

I blinked. Pulled the earbud out and stared at it like it was talking directly to me. It had been just over a week since Jax had given me his own original recording. It was a very sweet gesture, but I didn’t think he would actually take my request for a sequel to heart.

“But I thought maybe since you enjoyed the first story I came up with, that perhaps you’d like this one too.”

I was just as shocked as I was when I listened to the first one. This is Jackson Teller, the man who once told me (while we were dating, too), “I don’t do feelings, I do solutions.” I’m pretty sure he used that same line a few weeks ago after getting my period snacks from three different gas stations because he couldn’t remember the brand.

Now he was narrating…for me….again.

I melted.

“We’re on my bike, heading down one of those dirt roads that go on forever. You’re behind me, arms tight around my waist. Your cheek’s pressed into my back. I can feel you smile every time the wind rushes over us…”

I swear I melted like ice cream on a red-hot Harley engine.

I leaned back in my chair, heart hammering, face burning, and pressed play again. This time, I let it play until my eyes drifted shut.

And that’s when I felt it—real arms wrapping around me, warm lips pressing to my forehead.

“Papa,” I mumbled, barely awake but smiling like a dork.

“Angel,” he whispered back.

“Best husband in the entire world,” I yawned.

“In the entire world? Damn, I’m gonna have to put that on a T-shirt,” he chuckled.

“Maybe I’ll stitch it into your kutte.”

He smiled at me, and I drifted off to sleep.

The following morning, I stopped by the garage mostly because I missed him. Partially because I wanted to see if anyone else knew he was now an amateur smut narrator.

The boys were out front. Bobby was smoking, Juice had two iced coffees, and Tig—God help me—was standing too close to the parts cleaner with a grin that said I’ve done something awful and I hope it gets me arrested.

“Hey, sweetness,” Tig greeted me. “Surprised to see you out of the bedroom now that Jax is moonlighting as a phone sex operator and all.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Who told you?”

“Club has ears,” Bobby mumbled. “Also, Chibs walked in on him recording a ‘sweet and filthy bedtime story’ yesterday, and he hasn’t recovered since.”

“Don’t sweat it, babe,” Tig put his hand on my shoulder. “All the boys said they’d buy a copy— it’s sure to be a top-seller like, overnight.”

Juice, ever the sensitive soul, offered me a straw from his second coffee. “You okay?”

I took it gratefully. “I’m great. Just processing the fact that my old man’s voice is now my new favorite… relaxation tool.”

Ratboy sat down on the rickety couch in the corner. “Hey, Amber! Your husband docked my hours this week. Think I can get a free copy?”

Tig threw a wrench at him. “You’ll pay like the rest of us and support your brother and his smut peddling side-business.”

He dodged it, but barely.

Later that night, Jax and I were curled up in bed. The lights were off. The only sound was the ceiling fan.

“You really listened to a full book?” I asked, still kinda stunned.

“I listened to two of them, actually, but couldn’t finish either. Sound effects gave me a flashback to the time Bobby got food poisoning from the all-you-can-eat shrimp buffet in Ventura County.”

I choked laughing.

“But yeah,” he continued, pulling me closer. “I figured if it helps you relax— and it brings us closer— why not lean into it?”

“You narrated a whole story for me.”

“I did. Twice.”

“You realize Tig wants a copy now?”

“I’ll record him one personally—just fifteen minutes of me calling him a bitch or something.”

I giggled and rested my head against his chest. His hand moved up and down my back in slow, steady circles.

“You make me feel safe,” I whispered. “Even when I’m a little weird or a lot extra.”

“That’s the job, Angel.”

“And you’re good at it,” I replied.

We lay there like that, tangled up in love, chaos, and just the right amount of filth.

Who needs fairy tales when your man is the Prince of Charming?

[missworld444]

"Summer of 2025 was hands down the best summer"⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

R u ready too have the best summer ever? 2 feel better, look better, and be better? I know I am. I have been planning this summer since December so I would love 2 help a girl out with some tips ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) disclaimer I'm not forcing anybody too do this. this is my personal guide because I wanna glow up and be the best that I can be. I am just showing people what I'm gonna do too live the life I wanna live.

style:

having a cute style this summer will make u feel like a doll( ◕ᗜ◕ ) find a style that makes u happy! U can go on Pinterest and make a board too help u match a vibe that suits ur character 4 this summer >:3 the style I'm going 4, is like a rich girl in the 2000s who plays sims 2 and goes shopping all day. so I decided too go on depop and buy some clothes!! I bought 15 items so if u wanna haul lemme knowヽ(≧∀≦)ﾉ

mindset:

"Yolo" is how ur gonna have a fun summer. Don't be afraid 2 put urself out there. Go on random sidequests with ur friends, meet boys, go 2 parties (hell throw a party if u can), make a friend group or hangout with that one girl u have a friend crush on all summer. You Only Live Once.

Hobbies:

keeping urself busy is gonna be important this summer if you know u wanna make the cheer team next year, practice. Set goals 4 urself, 4 example: this summer I am gonna learn how dunk in basketball so 4 next year I'll be able too show off. Some hobby ideas you can do are, volleyball, cheerleading, basketball, instruments, drawing, reading, writing, ect!

Knowledge:

as much dumb stuff a girl is gonna do this summer I still wanna learn. I realized how much aspects of the world I don't know about so I'm gonna take my time too study topics I find interest and write papers about them. You can also read (like I'm gonna do) too expand vocab and too keep myself entertained. Once I finish my books I'll write a book report and post them on here! you can also study for next year too make next school year easier. if ur handwriting is ugly then you can practice fixing it! I know I am(T_T).

Cleaning (around you) :

staying clean around you can be a tough task. Believe me I know from experience. But that is gonna change. some good ways u can stay clean around is taking a day too tackle ur room. getting rid of clothes you don't wear/need, organizing ur vanity, wiping down literally crevice in ur room, clean under ur bed, ect. After you take a day too deep clean start taking at least 20 minutes every night too organize ur space too keep it clean. Every once and a while you wipe down ur surfaces and dust ur room then, voilà. 

Tomorrow you will see a post that goes in depth in personal hygiene so pls stay tuned!! 💕

that's it for now for my summer guide I'm taking this really seriously because I'm trying to have one of the best summers ever so I hope this can help u. Just remember too have fun and try not to take anything too seriously don't risk a burnout. Tootles!! (◍•ᴗ•◍)

[writingquestionsanswered]

How come I managed to get an outline done for once for the sole purpose of getting me to finish a chapter but I just can't get myself to finish that chapter?

Chapter Outlined, Can't Write Chapter

It happens. Outlines go only so far... you still have to flesh out the scenes as you write them... figure out the dialogue and the blocking. It's sort of like you can plot your trip route on Google Maps, but you still have to actually drive from one point to the other.

So... when you have an outline but are still struggling to actually write:

Problem #1 - You Don't Have a Way In

Having a chapter outline usually just means you know what generally (and importantly) needs to happen in the scene, the general order those things need to happen in, and some things like the scene's purpose, your character's goal, etc. But this is sort of like having a set of instructions that say, "Go to building. Go inside." Okay, great... but how are you specifically getting inside? Are you going through the front door? The back door? Climbing through a window? Landing on the roof in a helicopter? Tunneling in through a basement wall? So, before you can actually start writing, you need to figure out the specific way you're getting your character into the scene. A good way to do this is to go to the first important thing that has to happen in the scene, then rewind from there. What is your character doing in the moments before that? What has to happen in order to put them into that place in that moment? Is there anything unique about the circumstances or location you can focus on? Try opening up some of the books on your shelves and look at the ways different chapters begin. It will start to give you ideas for how you can open your chapter.

Problem #2 - Not Inspired/Excited

Having your chapter outlined doesn’t mean is a good first step, but if you're not feeling motivated to actually write the chapter, it will harder to write it. Try doing some fun exercises to get yourself excited about the chapter. Do a mood board or playlist for the chapter. Save some character and setting inspiration photos on Pinterest. Do an interview with your character that takes place after the scene/chapter to get their take on what happened and what they feel about it.

Problem #3 - Something Isn’t Working

Stories are like a house of cards in that one misplaced “card” can bring the whole thing crashing down. Sometimes you lose interest because an earlier element or event didn’t quite work. You can feel in your gut that something’s not right, so your brain interprets that as losing motivation. It’s not really that you’ve lost interest in the story… it’s that you’ve lost interest in the dead end path it’s on. Go back to the previous chapter or two and look for something that’s not pulling its weight. It could be an unnecessary character dragging the story down, a subplot that is cluttering up the story or drawing attention away from the main plot, or a scene/scenes that don’t add to the story. It could even be a combination of these things. If you can find it and fix it, your motivation may return.

Problem #4 - You’re Distracted by Other Things

If you sit down to write and you’re busy scrolling through facebook, texting with friends, and singing to the radio, you’re probably not going to get much done. Try blocking out thirty minutes (or whatever amount of time you can afford) and dedicate it entirely to writing. Shut down social media and other tempting apps/sites. Turn off the TV. Put your phone on silent. Tell housemates not to bother you. Put on soft music without lyrics, and focus solely on writing. If you find your mind starting to wander toward other things, yank it back and focus on your story.

Problem #5 - You’re Lacking the Physical/Mental Energy to Write

Whether you’re sick, not getting enough sleep, super busy, depressed, or in a bad mood, not having physical or mental energy can make it hard to write. Do what you can to bring your energy up as much as possible, both physically and mentally, and you may have an easier time writing that chapter.

I hope something here will work for you!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[asmodeauxx]

Do you have any tips for artists to get better? Also I hope you have a good day :)

I do have a few tips! (Things that I do personally)

Obviously to improve your art, you need to practice yadda yadda. But how could you make practicing it fun and also help?

Personally, I prefer practicing with full bodies to get an idea of the full anatomy so I don't accidentally sanction myself off from certain things like being able to draw hands, legs, ect. When drawing full bodies I always have action lines in mind!

I already do have experience in complicated poses so I don't normally use these lines anymore, but!

An example I will use;

Is one of my recent pieces!

So! How would we achieve this? Well,

The main part is the main action line! This is the line that structures the whole pose in general! Normally, this one smooth line always helps in structuring the pose and always looks pleasing to follow the line!

And lo, there are other parts to it. Like for example;

The diverging line! Probably not what it's actually called, but that's what I call it! This always is used to give divergence and give life to the pose without it looking clunky! For me, anything facing the opposite direction from each other is such a good skill to work on, because I tend to find still, symmetric poses boring to work with.

One rule I personally work with is that poses should never be still and symmetric. Have fun! Draw them upside down! Sideways! Driving a Buggy! The main thing is to have fun with it, or else it'll start to feel like a chore. Art is a hobby, and a skill set. If it only starts to feel like a job, take a break, recharge, and try again!

The last thing I'd like to advise; work with your favourite character! For me, practicing very flexible and dynamic poses always feels unachievable with characters I don't favour as much. So, always a good idea to work with characters you adore and wouldn't mind drawing a hundred times over!

And again, have fun with it! Don't force yourself to improve when you're burnt out.

I do have a public Pinterest board chock full of references and examples catered to my specific interests, but a lot of it are really good examples and explanations for anatomy tips, different poses, outfits, ect! Do check it out if you use Pinterest!

[localgossipus]

will work for meaning

I’m tired of having to make myself useful.

If I’m not selling something — my thoughts, my body, a version of myself I half-believe in — I’m wasting space. That’s what it feels like. That if I’m not actively climbing, optimizing, producing, I’m doing life wrong. As if I’m some inefficient machine that keeps on overheating, literally — I’m always sweating.

I think it started when we stopped having hobbies (did anyone ever really have hobbies? I never had one) and started having “side hustles.” When someone told us, quietly but repeatedly, that nothing we loved was valid unless someone would pay us for it. When dreaming became a luxury, and surviving meant repackaging our joy into monetization.

I can’t just write anymore. I have to consider a niche. A following. A brand voice. I have to decide whether this thought is post-worthy, whether it fits the tone I’m building. God forbid I contradict myself or trigger “whataboutism.” God forbid a girl tries to have a hobby.

Even my rest has become performative. I can’t take a walk without wondering if I should be making a “take a walk with me.” I can’t make a coffee without thinking of the cozy vanilla girl aesthetic I should be curating. I’ll have an emotional breakthrough and immediately wonder if I can turn it into a photo dump. This can’t be normal. This can’t be what healing is supposed to look like.

And don’t get me started on work.

Every job posting I read sounds like a scam or a cry for help. Entry-level roles requiring three years of experience, a master’s degree, and a willingness to be exploited. But don’t worry, they won’t pick you anyway. Or anyone.

I once wanted to work for an NGO. I imagined purpose. Fulfillment. Helping someone, somewhere. But even the “do-good” jobs are PR machines now. They want high-impact, low-cost, 24/7 brand aligned robots who can save the world for $18 an hour (reaching) and no health insurance. They want resumes drenched in resilience. Trauma repackaged as grit.

Meanwhile, my dreams — the soft, fun, weird, non-linear ones — feel like they’re growing mold in the corner. Like they’re embarrassed to be here. Like they know they don’t stand a chance in this economy.

What they don’t tell you about trying to do something meaningful is how capitalism makes it feel selfish. You start to believe that chasing your passion is indulgent unless it immediately generates income. That wanting to feel joy, depth, freedom, art — unless sponsored — is childish. That if you can’t make rent off your calling, it’s not a calling. It’s a liability, and it’s stupid.

I’ve started noticing people my age talk about burnout like it’s normal. Like it’s a badge of honor. We joke about spiraling, cry while making Canva manifestation graphics, scroll through job boards like they’re Pinterest boards. We’re constantly either underpaid or unpaid or on the verge of going “off grid.” But none of us ever actually log off. Because you can’t rest when rest is a privilege, and you can’t create when your worth is tied to performance.

There’s a line between being tired and being drained. It’s that feeling of being stretched so thin across platforms, roles, identities, futures, that you start to forget what you like. What your voice sounds like when you’re not selling something. What you would do if you didn’t have to monetize it.

Some days I fantasize about just quitting the internet all together. Just vanishing and running away to a random field in Italy. Where I can write for no one. No metrics. No pressure. Just the sound of my own brain, unfiltered. But then I think about rent. Groceries. Health insurance. I think about how hard it is to simply exist without being marketable. And suddenly, silence feels expensive.

And maybe that’s the rebellion — to feel something and not package it. To create without calculating. To remember that being a person is enough.

So here I am. A 22-year-old girl trying to write something honest in a world that wants her to sell it. Trying to find softness in a system built on burnout. Trying to give myself permission to just be, even if that “being” doesn’t come with a business plan.

I guess I can’t put my business degree to good use. Dang.

[anloartreduster]

Hey guys! How’s it going? Hope, you’re all doing well (: ! I’m finally able to post something after a million years later as I’ve finally completed both my work and finals for this college semester, so I’ll be posting more this winter break for sure. This is one of the projects I’ve been wondering on the side lines that’s been delayed so many times, but finally, since everything is over things can start rolling along. In this post I’m just going to be talking about my thought process throughout my drawing!

Q. What is this mural for?

A. This mural is for students who go into the student engagement lobby in my college, which I also go there, although more specifically it’s going to be located in the gaming room.

Moving forward with this project, I had decided that I didn’t want the character to be human, but instead I thought an animal would be best suited for this composition. In fact, I remember my high school teacher talking about how humans find anthropomorphized animals more relatable, how we empathize with them more, and how we can find many examples of that idea throughout comics, along with other pieces of literature. Originally, I wanted to make the character a bird, but after some rough drafting I found that would be challenging and maybe a bit too much for the piece, so I settled for a cat.

Afterwards, I made a few palettes to test them on the cat to see how they would possibly look and what would make an interesting character design. Most of these cats, specially 1,3, and 4 were based off cats I found off Pinterest since I don’t know many cat breeds myself since I’m mostly into birds. Next, cat 2 is based off the Maneki-neko which I’ve seen back in my old neighborhood in restaurants and, maybe once, at a family friend’s house. Last, the 5th cat is from a suggestion from one of the people who showed me Morgana from Persona 5.

I held a voting on my instagram to which the 4th cat got the most votes, although things would end up taking a completely different route.

This is one of my projects where I struggled the most with creating as many thumbnails as possible… my professor in my summer semester for 2D design told us 15-20 thumbnails would be good as that allows for a lot of variety and would be a good way for trying to expand our creative boundaries by trying new ideas or at least figuring solutions to our problems. Sadly, I’ve only made 7 in total to which 4 of them aren’t included in this post. My brain was really stuck on this idea of doing this specific perspective, along with pose, for this character. Within all the thumbnails, I tried adding items from serveral different board games and adding a controller to really communicate the idea of “this is a gaming room where you can play anything you want with your friends.”

This is the stage where a lot of things just got thrown away as it made the piece feel oversaturated with ideas, so I just boiled it down to a cat jumping up in an energetic pose with a controller with the phrase “let’s game” at the topic. I was going to add one more videos, but it seems that I’m only allowed to insert one video. In the first video, I had realized that I had already a pre-picked palette for this mural I had done a while back that I ended up using then boiling it down to a more simpler palette as this is the first time I’m doing a mural and I don’t want to do anything crazy nor out of my abilities.

That’s it for this post! I’m going to be making some more blogs about different projects during this winter break (: Hope to see you all soon on the next post!

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 38

Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board!

Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

— TW: DISCUSSION OF HARLEY'S SA. It's gonna be integrated into the story, guys! Beware!

Who's ready to get rescueeeed?! 🙈😉

"Harley?"

My lips are tinglin', is the only thought that floats through my mind, like a lost bobber in the ocean.

"Baby, say somethin'," My Dad tries again a minute later, more of a plea than a demand.

I hug my knees tighter to my chin.

"I'on know what to do," He mutters after the silence stretches on for too long, slouched on the floor in the opposite corner of the room with a sense of defeat. He rests his beaten, sweaty temple against the wall as he stares longingly at me, but it ain't me he's talking to anymore. At least, I'on think it is. He's talking to Glenn on the other side, whose voice I've almost forgotten is attached to a real person.

"Daryl, please," Glenn begs him, "I know it's hard, but you have to tell me what happened in there."

"He—," Dad starts, unable to get the words out right, like they taste of somethin' foul. "He made her—..."

Desperate, he insists, "He made her, what, Daryl?"

He can't say it.

I didn't wanna kiss Philip. Less than I've ever wanted to step on a rusty nail or swallow a raw egg, I did not wanna kiss Philip. Dad knows that. He has to. There was a gun to my head. He saw. If I had kicked him or punched him or cussed him out some more, like any brave person would do, like I was sure I was gonna do, he would'a shot me dead. But instead, now, my lips are tingling.

That's how I know he's still not gone, because his warm, chapped lips are brushing against mine, and our noses are tickling against each other, and his breath is ghosting across my face. I'm in two moments at once, trapped between nothing.

Don't move, Harley. I can still feel the gun trained on my head. Don't move.

"He made her kiss him," He eventually admits, his voice echoing weakly off the concrete walls. "Made her kiss him on the mouth."

There's a painful silence emanating from Glenn's side of the wall for what feels like a long, long time.

"He's a fucking monster," He exclaims quietly after I'd thought he'd say nothing, his chin trembling with anger easy to imagine.

"She won't talk." Dad continues staring at me, like he just can't pull his eyes away. I wish I could shrink into the sharp point between the walls and the floor until I fold in on myself like a little origami creature and disappear forever. Stop lookin' at me, I mentally scold him, sounding a lot more passionate in my head than the empty, heavy feeling I've got in my chest. "Won't let me touch her."

"This is Merle's fault," Glenn tells him matter-of-factly. "As much as it is Philip's. He let this happen."

"No." Dad mumbles, sounding sure. "Ya don't know my brother. He loves Harley more'un anythin'. This weren't him."

"He's a bad person, Daryl."

"You think I'on know that?" He shoots back, pausing for a long moment before adding, "I'd made my peace with him bein' gone."

"Sorry, I just—... I don't know how they're getting away with this."

"It's fine. Sky's blue. Shit stinks." Dad says, wincing as he feels along his jaw, coughing up another bloody molar. "Fuck."

"How bad are you hurt?"

"Got the Chicklets beat outta me," He licks his bloody lips, groaning, "But I ain't dead, yet. You?"

"Not dead," He agrees, but he don't sound too far from it. I try to remember everything Herschel's ever said about sepsis, but my thoughts are dashing around my head like spooked rabbits, disappearing and reappearing into hidden pockets I can't reach.

Maybe if I stare at the floor hard enough — It's grey, concrete, speckled with dirt — it'll all go away.

"Shut up in there!" A guard suddenly shouts from outside, making us both flinch. "No talkin'!"

Don't move, Harley.

"When are you gonna let us outta here?" Dad shouts back angrily. "Ya feel good about yerself, lockin' up a lil' girl?"

"You ain't heard me the first time? Shut up!"

After that, he stops beggin' me to talk to him.

From the porch of our trailer house, I watch as Mandy's small, white car crawls up our driveway.

How did I get here, I ask myself, looking around at all the people gathered in our front yard. The sound of cheering and whistling cuts through the warm air like it's the fourth of July, the smells of sizzling meat drawing my attention to the back of the crowd. There's our shirtless neighbour, Mark, wearing his cheap, black apron — The one that says, King of the Grill — as he flips hotdogs and dances to the radio sitting nearby. There's his skinny sister, Hannah, with her chubby baby sat on her hip, and their nephew, Timmy.

I recognise most of the people here. Neighbours, people from Dad's old job at the mechanic's, friends.

A memory, I realize — It's the day my Dad came back from prison.

"I know that's right," Merle whoops as the car comes to a stop, the engine shutting off. He grabs my hand and Tank follows us down the porch steps, the cheering growing louder by the second. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was at a concert for a rockstar. I'm frightened, excited, angry. I'm about to see my Dad. After four years, he's here. "My brother! Daryl motherfuckin' Dixon!"

I squeeze Merle's hand tighter as my Dad steps outta the passenger seat, closing the door behind him.

"Daddy," I exclaim, my voice lost to the noise, but somehow, he hears me.

"You're so big," Is the first thing he says to me, and he looks proud and sad at the same time, bending down to wrap me in a hug. I make sure he knows how much I missed him by squeezing him so tight I hear him grunt in pain. "I missed you so much, baby."

He weren't here for my birthdays. He weren't here when I got that certificate at school. He weren't here at all. I feel like I don't know him anymore, but at the same time, it's like no time has passed at all. I mean, how much can a Dixon really change?

All of a sudden, there's something fluffy and slobbery forcing its way between us.

"Tank," I complain with a giggle, pulling away.

"Hey, boy," Dad laughs as he pets the big dog. "You miss me, too?"

"Not as much as I did," Merle jokes as Dad stands up and lifts me up to sit on his hip. "Four fuckin' years, huh, buddy?"

"Four years," Dad agrees as they share a hug, before he pulls away to gawk at all the people that showed up for him. "Hey, y'all."

"At least let him put his shit away first, ya vultures," Mandy scoffs. She steps outta the driver's side of the car and spits her bubble-gum onto the ground, sending her boyfriend a sassy look. "I'm sorry to say, Mark, but yer hotdogs ain't that good."

"Love you to, darlin'," The king of the grill laughs.

"Nah, Mandy, it's alright. I'm starvin'," Dad smiles. "The shit they serve in prison ain't even fit fer pigs."

"Get on in here, then, man!" Mark beckons him with a wave of his spatula. "We got plenty to go around!"

The crowd is swallowing us up and congratulations are flying left and right. My Dad is a hero. He's the reason I'm still here. He's the reason everybody else's kids are safe to play outside, without the threat of Ronnie lingering around any longer. He's got double the balls these people could only dream of havin', the brave underdog rising from the ashes, returning home from war. We ain't always the most functional of neighbours and friends, but we get shit done to protect our own in this part of town and we're proud of it.

Soon, I'm sitting on Dad's lap and I'm feeling like a princess, ketchup and mustard smeared all over my face as I chow down on my fat hotdog. I can't stop smiling. There ain't nowhere else I'd rather be than here, even after everythin' that's happened.

My Dad is a hero, and for the first time in my life, it feels like we've won something.

"Long as me and Merle are here," He promises me once everyone's attention is elsewhere, "Ain't nothin' gonna happen to you."

I smile back at him.

I believe him with my whole heart.

"Get up."

I wake to the sound of a guard's gravelly voice.

What? What's going on?

"Get up!"

My Dad cries out in pain.

There's a gun pointed in my direction. No. No, not again.

"Wakey-wakey! Let's go!"

The guard uses his free hand to force Dad to his feet, shoving him toward the door.

"No—" Dad croaks, turning to look at me. "Harley—"

"Let's go!" The guard roars, and suddenly my Dad don't look like much of a hero at all. "Let's fucking go!"

He's taking him away.

He's taking my Dad away.

"Hey!" Glenn shouts, banging against the wall. "Hey, what are you doing to them?!"

"Shut up! Let's move!"

I should get up. I should help Dad. But I can't make myself do it. I'm stuck somewhere inside myself, unable to pull the strings. All I do is cower deeper into myself, hugging my knees so tightly I think I might implode. I can't move. Don't move. The Governor might come back. I don't want him to come back. Terrified, I watch Dad stumble across the room, his pleas desperate, panicked, useless.

Then the door is slamming shut and I'm all alone.

"They's gonna cut his throat open," I frantically whisper to myself. "They's gonna cut his throat open."

Why didn't I move?

"Harley?" Glenn calls out.

"They's gonna cut his throat open."

"Harley?" He tries again, his tone softening. "Harley, listen to me. It-It's alright. I'm— I'm here, okay?"

"No, you ain't!" I shout at the wall. I'm alone. I'm all alone in here. "You ain't here, Glenn!"

"I am," He insists. "It's just an inch or two of concrete, and then I'm right here. Please calm down. It's gonna be okay."

"I want my Dad!"

"Take a deep breath. I'm gonna do it with you, okay? Ready?"

Kicking my feet against the floor, I shriek, "I want my Dad!"

"Harley?"

"I want my Dad!"

"You motherfuckers!" He suddenly turns his attention away from me, shouting out at the guards in pure anger, voice cracking. "This is inhumane! You've got a little girl in here — She can't take this! She can't! Don't you have a conscience?!"

"This is the safest place for her right now," A guard argues back. "You'd do best to shut up."

"The safes—? Are you kidding me? Where the Hell is her family?"

I swear I hear him snicker. "They're kinda busy right now, but you can check back in on 'em later."

"What does that mean?"

"Governor's gonna make 'em fight," He sounds pleased to admit. "Give the people a show. Make an example outta them."

Example? A show?

I don't know what that means. What does that mean? Is giving people a show worse than gettin' yer throat cut? Are they gonna die?

"What?" Glenn exclaims in confusion. "How is he getting away with all of this?"

"You'd be amazed, the shit people get used to when they're promised a home. Every time you think the line's been crossed—..."

"Do they know he kissed a little girl? Do they know that?"

He says nothin'.

"Daryl's daughter," Glenn pleads with him. "Merle's niece. You can't do this to them. You can't do this to her."

"I'm just a guard, buddy."

"Fuc— Come on!" I hear him hit the wall in a burst of outrage. "You know this is wrong. You know it!"

"This is the cost of safety," The guard scolds him. "We got a system here. I'm prepared to uphold it, and if that's wrong, so be it. Y'all ain't the only people in the world with kids and family to protect, alright? Don't act like you're above us. We all sin."

"We don't take children hostage," Glenn retorts hotly. "We don't make people fight like dogs."

Nothin', again.

"Please," He continues, "Just let him take his daughter home. We've all paid the price, okay? You got your hits in. It's over."

We wait a long time for the guard to answer.

"Please. Hello?"

This is it. This guard don't care. He's gonna let us all die in here because a paradise is still paradise if it's paid for in blood.

"Please, just think about this. Please."

It ain't no use.

"Are you ther—?"

BANG!

I flinch.

A gunshot. That was a gunshot. My own squeal of fright is the last thing I hear before my heartbeat takes over my ear drums, and I'm burying my face in between my knees, rocking back and forth, back and forth, huffing and puffing, praying, No. Don't shoot me. I did what you asked. There's shouting and thudding in the corridor outside, as if a violent stampede is tearing through the walls.

I don't know what's going on out there. Is it more angry guards? Is it the Governor? Is it him?

"Harley!" I hear Glenn's voice very faintly, but behind it all, I know it's a guttural scream. "Harley! Are you okay?"

Don't shoot me, I keep thinking, making myself into a hard shell where nothin' can get me. I did what you asked.

"Hey! Hey, what's going on?!"

More thudding. Doors being kicked in. It's the Governor. He's coming. He's gonna kill me. I'll have to explain to him that— Well, I did wanna kiss him, because it meant he wouldn't shoot me, but I ain't meant nothin' by it. I just didn't wanna die.

I swear years go by before the shooting stops, leaving nothin' but a sharp ringin' in its wake.

"Sh— She's in here—"

The door to the room busts open, punctuating the silence with a, THUD.

He's here.

"I did what you asked," I tell him before he can shoot me in the head, I did what you asked, but what I don't realize is that it's not the Governor at all. Glenn spills into the room first. He clutches at his abused thigh as he limps, half hopping, over to my corner of the room before he falls at my side, which is when I notice Rick, Maggie, and Oscar behind him. It's them. They made it, I think, gawking up at their rifles and blood-stained clothes. I want to be relieved, but the Governor could still be near. He's here. "I did what you asked."

"Is she hurt?" Rick asks Glenn, crouching down and reaching out to touch me. "Honey, can you walk—?"

His fingers are claws descending on me, my body shrinking in on itself on instinct. I cry, "Don't!"

"Woah, okay," He placates, flinching away from me. He glances at Glenn for answers, but his expression betrays nothing but a sad wince. Somethin' bad happened down here. To all of us. This is the part of the fairytale where the knights rescue the hostages, except the air smells of gunpowder and my whole body hurts. Looking back at me, Rick soothes, "Okay. Okay. It's okay, Harley."

Glenn's dishevelled, sweaty hair and gaunt cheeks do nothin' but make me wonder just how long we've been down here for. A day? Two? A week? Watery blood dribbles down his bare chest as he pants, tired just from taking a few steps. He looks sick.

"Where's Daryl?" Maggie asks him urgently. Now ain't the time for lickin' wounds. "He's not down here?"

"I did what you asked," I whisper to nobody, maybe Rick, maybe Glenn. "I did what you asked."

"They say where?"

"They took him away," Glenn explains to her as Rick sends me a troubled look.

"I— I don't know."

"Those gunshots weren't silent, people," Oscar anxiously reminds everybody. "We got, like, two minutes tops to jump ship."

"Yeah. We gotta move," Maggie agrees. "Glenn, how bad are ya hurt?"

"I—I can walk," He stammers as she hooks her arm around his waist, holding him up. "I'll be fine."

"And her?"

"I don't think they hurt her," He shakes his head. "But Daryl said she hasn't moved for the last few hours."

"Screw it," Rick says under his breath and swings his rifle onto his back, readying himself. "I'm gonna have to carry her."

There's only half a moment for me to react. I can barely shoot my arms out to swat him away before his hands are under my armpits and I'm being lifted onto his chest, my attacks useless. He looks around at everybody, his eyes lingering on Glenn.

"Alright," He nods, "Let's get outta here."

End Notes.

Our knights in shining armour have arrived! 😌

I was thinking two things while writing this chapter — First, I feel so bad for Harley, Daryl, and Glenn. Sorry, guys. And second? Hooooo, the revenge is gonna be sweet!!

Wasn't sure how to incorporate the flashback considering we're in first person perspective, so I decided to make it a sort of dream sequence, but everything that happened in it was real. Also wanted a break in the monotony of y'know… being locked up and tortured in a basement.

I'm excited to escape Woodbury and move into the next phase of the story. Merle's my next target. I like the action as much as anybody else, but it's the drama I live for!

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, guys! 😊

@poetoflawed

[jailhouserock45]

Story Dump Time!

The first time I started to ship Caryl, me and my family had just started TWD and were a couple of episodes in season 1.

Me and my sister took a liking to Daryl (even if he was a bit rough around the edges then) and we immediately got on pinterest and started a board dedicated to him😆

It was 2015, so a couple of seasons had already been released by this time. Meaning me and my sister thought he had more than likely found and fallen in love with someone at this point, or at least had feelings for someone and we just hadn't watched it yet.

We didn't mind to spoil it for ourselves, which was a dumb move but hey🤷‍♀️

So we typed in "Daryl and" and we let pinterest autofill the rest.

The first thing that came up was Daryl and Carol.

Now, we were SO new to this fandom that we couldn't remember who Carol even was😂

So we were like "who? Which one is Carol?" And when we saw her I was like "oh my gosh, that's the abused lady! Daryl likes the abused lady?" And I mulled it over for a minute.

We saw later season photos and gifs of them, and I realized it made sense.

He was a rough gruff redneck, and she an abused woman who didn't know how to defend herself. They were both kind of broken.

I absolutely loved the idea that he would take a liking to her, and therefore try and protect her (and her being floored that someone actually cared about her, oh it made me so excited. Then of course we see that SHE becomes more of a baddie than him, but I didn't know that at the time 😂)

I started warming up to the idea of them with every photo I saw...my sister did too.

And then, we saw THE reunion hug. The No Sanctuary hug... My sister tapped on a gif of it, and when we saw it I was done.

I absolutely LOVED it. I loved them. I saw how soft and happy they both were in that gif and I was in. Certified Caryl shipper😂💯

I saw how different they both were towards eachother, and I knew that sometime after season 1, they would start to become more to eachother and I was there for it.

Me and my sister from then on became Carylers, and we got to watch their relationship blossom into what it is today.

We held out and waited and waited, hoping they would make it official...and they always seemed to be just an episode away from doing that. But it never happened...

My sister stopped believing it would happen years ago. And I'll admit, so did I.

Only recently I started to hope again.

This proves that what Caryl has, it is special. From just a few photos and gifs, I was hooked on them and I didn't even know them at that point😂 And still today, after being strung along, Caryl fans STILL have hope for them.

That's pretty impressive...

And that's it, that's when I first became a Caryler. I spoiled it for myself, but I regret nothing!

Heres to hoping years of waiting finally pays off!🤞❤️

[mercurysanctuary]

✧ Something to Mention ✧

Before I get into what I'm about to say, I just want to make a disclaimer that 1. this post might be very long and 2. everyone has their own opinions, which is fine! Everyone has their own way of manifesting/approaching LoA.

With this being said, I see a lot of blogs on here that always push for using affirmations when manifesting, which like I said before is perfectly fine! But, I want to let anyone who is new to manifesting/Law of Assumption know that affirmations are just a method. There are plenty of methods you can use to manifest such as scripting, visualization, a lot of people even make Pinterest boards for manifesting. And to be honest, anything can be a method if you want it to be. Methods are just there to help you remain in the wish fulfilled, which is an important part of manifesting/using the law. If sleeping in your bed, listening to your favorite song, or eating your favorite foods help you get into and remain in the wish fulfilled, then that is completely okay. You don't have to use affirmations if you don't want to. I wanted to make this post because seeing the way a lot of blogs talk about manifestation using affirmations reminds me of back when I first joined this community. It was around the time where people were constantly talking about "affirm & persist" as if it was the only way to manifest, and honestly, it just made manifesting so much harder and much more frustrating for me. I remember there was this challenge where you had to affirm 10k times and people made it seem like you were guaranteed your desires if you affirm that much. Me being as desperate as I was, I tried to attempt this challenge multiple times but never reached 10k because I would always end up burning myself out. Something that helped open my eyes a bit was a few blogs talking about challenges like this one and basically saying that you're not in the state of wish fulfilled by affirming 10k times, you're affirming to get something which isn't what manifestation/the law is or about. It wasn't until more people started talking about the concept of states that I really felt such relief and a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders because it took off so much of the pressure that I put on myself to manifest what I wanted. I am not saying all of this to make it seem like affirming is the "wrong" way to manifest or that it's hard, nor am I trying to villainize those who do like affirming because even now I use affirmations from time to time. But, I want to clarify that affirmations should be used as reminders, not as a means to get what you want. And this goes for any method, you do not use methods to get what you want. Methods are like tools to help you reach the end. If you continue to rely on methods, you will never get to the end goal. You will stay stuck wondering "why isn't it working, why am I not getting what I want"? In conclusion, I just wanted to make this quick mention for anyone who is new to manifesting or this community. I am not trying to restart the whole states vs. a&p debate, but give some perspective to those who may need it. Find a method (if you want) that you like using, or don't, and use it as a helpful tool to reach the end goal. Do not completely rely on it. Remember, you are the one who manifests, not your affirmations or your Pinterest boards. It's you.

I hope this post made sense because I feel like I didn't articulate myself properly or how I wanted to ☙

[mafuyuakgae]

YOUR ART IS LITERALLY ENCHANTING HELLO??? I feel like I'll get sucked into it Narnia style... Would you mind talking about your art process 👀

thank you so much?!! i dont mind if you dont mind me taking this chance to yap

my art process has changed a bit since i last posted a step by step... i would say my ideation phase is still

seeing something that really makes me want to draw (ie alien stage round 6 or a really good gacha card (sorry) ) or forcing out thumbnails

go on my pinterest board of poses/colours from other artists i like for the general vibe (i reference a lot from my own photos as well, usually pics i take around my city/a lot of selfies taken from 0.5x angle LOL)

and then start the drawing. usually not a lot of thumbnailing..i would like to get better at that to explore more interesting compositions >_< also trying to flatten my art style a bit but i still go overboard with rendering extraneously oops

these days im also switching back to paint tool sai/csp on my pen tablet rather than procreate..i really dont like the blending engine sometimes and it makes it really difficult for me to motivate myself to paint there. i guess walking through a recent painting i like:

sketch on a colour bg ( usually this kind of decides the colour palette for the rest of the painting, building off of this main bg colour) (i erased some of it bc i was using it in the final painting ^^;;; it gets redrawn on top a little)

blocking the main foreground - sword, horse - just going from dark foreground > middle > background lightest as a frame of reference, having the least amount of detail at the right since i want the horse's hind legs to fade out in perspective

3. layer at a light opacity using a big brush to just suggest light/shadows (yellow at bottom right and around her face to complement and contrast the blue/purple)

4. render details (this is what gets me and i am very lazy and typically give up on a piece once we get here. working on it..)

5. yeah. done! outline some desaturated areas (horse hind legs) with a saturated colour found elsewhere in the painting (lighter colour of the bg) and then add final touchups on top of everything. my layers dont make sense. also i love using the fringe effect on sai to fake edges/lines (every layer has it. yay)

[vampstel]

Hi Nico!

Out of pure curiosity. When you make designer notes like these (I was using these outfits for references) do you typically use google doc per character design? Or do you have a whole system set up?

I still love Poppy she’s so cute! I might steal some aspects for my own upcoming oc I’m developing. I’d love to know your thought with it. (She’s just an example of what I’m trying to ask about, Do you edit them in ibisPaint or CapCut etc?)

How does your character design process usually go? I have been meaning to do that for mine but there’s so much to do.

I don’t really know how to answer this since I already explain my designing process plently in Design With Me episodes,, sorry >_<

I don’t usually write notes anywhere. Poppy and her two brothers were an exception. I just wrote them after finishing their concept chibis to remind myself what features I shouldn’t forget. The most notes I ever do consistently are simply small ideas like:

Living doll character

Demon based off deep sea creatures

Character based off *insert show here*

And that’s it 😭 The only complicated bit of my design process is getting references. I’ll get most of them VIA Pinterest, make a board for it, save the pins I like the most and then put them in a collage for easier viewing and then import the collage to Ibispaint. And then I start the concept chibi… And then the final art, etc.

My process really isn’t intricate or set up well… I just go with the flow and see what happens 💀 Of course, I don’t recommend that in any capacity. There’s a better way to go at designs but I just can’t be bothered LOL

[hcneymooners]

i really admire your writing style! you have such a way with words. your works always feels so earnest and compelling. you create art with your words, in a way that i feel i've never really seen before. sensations that i can immediately understand despite never having felt before. it's like poetry. when i'm reading your work, it's very obvious that this is hcneymooners, even if i don't check the title. it's always very you, if that makes sense.

perhaps this is a bit invasive, and i apologize--but do you have any recommendations for someone looking to develop their own authentic style? any authors or works that inspire you in particular? i think i remember you've posted a bit about your writing process before. i'm not looking to copy you--i just kind of want some pointers on how to make my own writing come alive. sorry if this is asking too much...

hi sweetheart. i'm so sorry this answer came a little later than when you sent this, but i wanted to think for a second before responding.

first of all, thank you so much for giving me such a sweet compliment. to know that my work is distinctive enough to clearly belong to me is so important to me in a way i don't think i will ever truly be able to articulate.

this isn't invasive at all. and i don't think you're copying me at all. i think so much of writing is drawing inspiration from others that you have read and collecting parts of it to try on and take off, a bit like clothing. these questions are so hard for me to answer because i always feel stressed that i won't give the right answer. still, i'll try my best.

do you have any recommendations for someone looking to develop their own authentic style?

this sounds so gauche but genuinely write what you have been craving to see. a lot of my writing started because i didn't see myself in anything i was picking up from the library—especially in my small town. when i did, i was ravenous almost obsessive in terms of finding it again.

write with emotional precision. my work tends to be deeply introspective and layered with tension because that's how i genuinely process things in real life. i don’t want to just tell the reader what a character feels because i've always found that hard to do when i was explaining myself to others��i choose to let them feel it through detail, subtext, and usually the unspoken/negative space. sometimes its better to focus on restraint rather than over-explaining emotional processes (if that makes sense.)

make every sentence do the work. think of there being a rhythm to your prose, and don’t waste words. make every phrase matter (even filler!!!) and trust the reader to pick up on nuances.

play with contrast. i tend to balance the uncomfortable with the comforting/acceptable, beauty with brutality, softness with sharpness. think lyrical prose in a dark moment, a harsh truth wrapped in something that's otherwise kind and delicate. much of life is tension and brushing against it. use that.

immerse yourself in the scene. this is the most important one to me. i spend so much time making pinterest boards, collecting visuals from tumblr/reddit/magazines, etc. i will literally refuse to begin writing, even if i have a specific playlist for a wip, until i find the song to begin writing the scene with. it sounds insane but it helps so much. focus on how things feel—not just what’s happening. slow down and inhabit a moment fully: the way light filters in, the texture of silence between words, how a person's body betrays what they won’t say. find your language for the things you want to express.

allow yourself to be influenced. not to sound like a self-help guru but something that irrates me is that we are so afraid of being influenced and so focused on doing something new and completely different that we don't realize that sometimes things work because it's the same but done with a drastically different lense—which allows other people with that same perspective to forge a connection with your work. consume media actively—ask why something made you feel a certain way, then break down how it was done.

figure out what drives you. is your work driven by characters (like mine) or plot? maybe a specific theme? dialogue-heavy or maybe more about the silence? maybe you're experimenting and maybe it will change! that's okay!

any authors or works that inspire you in particular?

i had to dig out some memories for this one but yes!

libba bray—i discovered her when i was younger and the impact the diviners series and the gemma doyle series had on me? insane.

melissa broder

thirst for salt by madelaine lucas changed my life. i love that book so much

anything by emma cline

emezi akwaeke

isabel yap

our lady of perpetual hunger (this is a memoir, but made me realize how much i can be creative in terms of communicating feelings)

a memory called empire

the empress of salt and fortune

the great gatsby

catherynne m valente

luna series by ian macdonald

all this i will give to you (this is a spanish novel, but there is a translation. made me bawl. )

at my core, i'm drawn to rich, atmospheric, and deeply emotional stories. i love narratives where history is alive, where power and love are almost painfully tangled, and where characters are haunted—whether by their past, their desires, or forces beyond their control. i love a level of intensity and have a deep love for the visceral and the beautifully unsettling. it's why i write the same things.

i hope this is beneficial for you, baby. i am so proud of you for trying to find your place and for creating anything. art is so important right now. i am so excited to see how you grow. love you so much and i'm right behind you.