#really like places that feel straight out of a pinterest board

[mwagneto]

crazy how going to the skatepark in my commie bloc just to sit there for like 30 minutes doing fuck all and then leave immediately fixes my brain

[hyunverse]

welcome home ★ hwang hyunjin.

hyunjin x gn!reader. fluff, drabble. no warnings.

wc: 600 words.

Hyunjin renovates your new home for you, ensuring each detail is tailored to your liking.

"Watch your steps."

Carefully, Hyunjin guides you around the house, one hand clasped against your eyes, the other resting on your waist.  You could feel the cold tiles beneath your feet, and how it is slightly dusty from the month-long renovations. 

"Careful, don't want you to stub your toe," Hyunjin says, eliciting a small chuckle from you.

Hyunjin walks you through the house, until at one point (you couldn't tell where in the house), he stops. 

"One, two..." he whispers, and you can feel the smile on his face, "...Three. Surprise!"

Hyunjin drops his hand, watching as you take in the sight before you. You're standing in front of the newly renovated kitchen, its appearance far different than the last time you saw it. 

"Oh my god," you breathe out, "What the hell, Hyunjin?"

The walls of the kitchen had been renovated to your liking, the boring brick walls transformed into green marble tiles. The countertop looks like one from your dreams — straight from the house of Monet. All you could do is gasp.

"You like it?" Hyunjin questions, placing a hand on the small of your back.

"Sweetheart, I love it," you whisper. He smiles, content with the perplexed look on your face. 

"I love it," you repeat, roaming around the kitchen with Hyunjin following you like a lost puppy. "I really love it, Hyune."

“I’m happy you do, baby.”

You rummage through the drawers, trailing your pointer against every surface you could touch. All the furniture, even the kitchen cookware sets, was designed according to your preferences — as though Hyunjin had the same mind as yours. Frankly, it’s like your Pinterest board has come to life. 

What you’re unaware of is that indeed, Hyunjin had spent weeks stalking you on Pinterest. His urges of “pleeaaaaseee update your Pinterest boards,” weren’t for nothing. 

"Wait, need to show you this," your fiancee interrupts, taking your hand to lead you to a cabinet. 

He gently opens the cabinet, revealing a spice rack. The spice rack you've always wanted — he knows because he remembers the few times you've mentioned it — is sitting right inside the cabinet. 

“Holy fuck, Hyune,” you mutter, turning your head to him with your mouth agape, “It’s the fucking Lenox Spice Village that I wanted!”

“Yeah,” he giggles, a sense of pride bubbling in him. He lets out a small “oof,” when you throw yourself onto him, engulfing him into a tight hug.

“I love it so much, baby. I really love it.”

“Really?” he giggles, holding you tightly, “You haven’t even seen the bedroom.” 

Hyunjin leads you to the bedroom, then the bathroom, the living room — and lastly, an office. The space in the office had been divided into two, one-half works as his art corner, and the other serves as a study for you. The desk is exactly to your liking, a space designated for you to indulge in your hobbies.

There’s a peg board above your desk — with magnets from the cities you’ve travelled to, and polaroids from your dates with Hyunjin. A memento for all the memories you’ve made with him. 

It all feels like home. 

“It’s really perfect,” you exhale, standing by the desk with an awestruck face. “You know me so well, Hyune.”

“I do?” he mutters, a small smile gracing his face. He inches closer to you, his breath fanning against your neck. A kiss is cheekily placed on your cheek. “I just wanted you to feel at home.”

“And I do,” you whisper, looking up at him. “I feel at home. When you said to move in with you, I didn’t expect for all of this, you know?”

Hyunjin smiles, cupping your face with a tenderness you never thought you would deserve. Soft, akin to the breeze that graces your face every midnight. 

A contrast to his touch, his next words kicks the air out of you.

“Welcome home.”

taglist (send an ask to be added!)

@zoe8stay @starlostseungmin @hwajin @sleepyleeji @jdopes-recorder @sherryblossom @alyszaen @hyunluvxo @bokk-minnie @ghostyycat7 @fortunatelyhertragedy @yongbokkari @ameliesaysshoo @seoli-16 @jisungsdaydreamer @soobnny @seolboba @in2heartz @jehhskz @astraystayyh @mnwrld @hanjsquokka @pheonixfire777 @sapphirewaves @onlyhyunjin @jaefilm

[officialrocketjumper]

HOWDY EVERYONE- so excited to FINALLY be able to show off my piece for this year's Bumbleby Big Bang!

Unfortunately no accompanying story as of yet- but I really hope you guys get to read it someday! The premise involves Yang cursed to be trapped inside a sword, which was an idea I KNEW I had to make move.

Details and development stuff under the cut!

Lots of fun collaboration with the author, Celeste! We worked together to find the look-of-picture, Blake's outfit, how the Grimm look, the style of the sword, the whole shabang! I'm really happy with how it all turned out!

When I first saw all the prompts, even before claims opened, I got to work on a handful of exploration pieces based on some of the summaries, to decide which of the stories I was interested in would be the best fit. Here's the initial idea for this one I put together over a lunch break:

After showing Celeste, we got to work finding the look we wanted! Went back and forth a bit and found this great look for Blake! Also shoutout to Pinterest boards for visdev inspiration I love you Pinterest boards.

Just about everything stayed to final anim, with the simplification of getting rid of that purple cloth hanging from her belt, (since I already had the rope ends to think about working with), and the light purple strap across the chest, since leaving it out would simplify the linework on her chest.

The sword also went through a bit of change! Celeste had the idea of Yang making the sword catch on fire, which I LOVED. I went with a split design so we can see the fire more clearly start from the hilt and grow to cover the whole blade.

And from there we brainstormed animation ideas! I went all over Youtube for video reference of sword work (that would be complex enough to be interesting, but short enough to be manageable). I found something we liked from Motion Actor Inc., a channel I've used LOTS for both personal and professional work (I work in 3D Animation, for those who don't know). I edited this together, to see the action from multiple places at once, which gave me the idea for that camera move that's in the final anim!

Now for the fun part! Make that badboy MOVE. For the cam turn, the first frame she's in the air I'm referencing the top left video, and the frame she lands I'm referencing the bottom left one. While she's airborne I'm just inbetweening that! No reference for the Grimm, just wanted it responding to her attacks, but I end up tweaking the roughs later on to make the block feel stronger.

Then from there we had to actually figure out Grimm designs! Nimona had just released, and Celeste and I loved it, so she asked if I could take some inspiration from Nimona's shadow form! GLADLY. Here's what I came up with!

I was going between how the movies and comic designed Nimona, really loving the almost liquid shadow of the movie, but also how the comics had this broken up/held together rougher form. Celeste liked the second to last one the best! The original plan was to have it leave a wispy shadow trail like the concept art, but to simplify the animation we left it solid instead!

Next up is tiedown! Basically just getting the roughs more on-model, so the lineart comes out nice and clean. I've also transferred the new Grimm design to the base from earlier, and fire's also outlined orange so it reads clearer. (SPOILER- if you look REAL close here, you can see Yang visible in the fire! I liked the idea of Blake's slash also doubling as Yang throwing a punch. The idea is in the concept art earlier but now it's working with the action.)

Next step- final look of picture!! I asked Celeste for sources of inspiration to draw from when thinking about environment design, and we got Nimona, She-Ra, and Owl House! Used each of those as springboards for shading style, colour palettes, and how the fire would look!

From there, we kept the straight trees/bush/lake/foreground greenery from the first one, the blues from the second, and the fire from the third!

Once I had this frame, it was a matter of working backwards and making the background work pre-camera turn (which was ABSOLUTELY the most challenging part of this process). Learned a lot doing this! Procreate isn't quite equipped to make something like this efficient, but I'm pleased to say that Dreams would make something like this easier in the future (keyframing objects instead of hand-drawing/spacing duplicates by hand, for example).

From then on it was just colouring the lineart, adding shading, and finishing up the background! Beginning-to-end this whole process was beginning of July to end of October!

I had an absolute BLAST putting all this together. Here's to next year where I find a way to do something even more ridiculously complicated!! It's fun!!!

[lacedinweb22]

Seven Minutes in Heaven ♱☽🦇☾♱

Miguel O'Hara x reader ♱ (A Halloween special) Vampire Next Door (ch.7) prev part nsfw 18+

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

There’s a knock at your door. You fix your hair in the mirror then rush to leave.

There he is,

dressed up as a vampire.

He’s wearing a beautiful vintage, tailored suit. His waves are tamed back. He has a bit of fake blood dripping from his bottom lip to his jaw then down to his neck. He really committed to the part. 

You discussed costume ideas a few days before the party. You came up with the idea of dressing up as gothic style vampires; you’d been watching vampire romances all week, though you left that part out. Miguel was hesitant at first, said it would be too flashy, but after you showed him your pinterest board, and some whining and convincing, he agreed.

You’ve got the look down: a long, black vintage dress, fake blood around your lips, chin, and down your arms, jewelry adorning your collarbones, and fangs you’ve glued onto your canines.

Your dress hugs you in all the right places. Your bust is bursting, practically spilling out of the bodice. It accentuates your curves, tightly hugging your waist and hips. You look and you feel the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

Seeing Miguel like this, at your door, makes the butterflies in your stomach go wild. You never thought he’d see you like this, so grown up, blossomed, and beautiful. And you never thought you’d see him like this. 

Your eyes meet, then part, as they explore each other’s figures. He quickly looks back up, keeping a straight face, like he didn’t just gulp at the sight of your curves.

“This hot vamp look really suits you.”

“Hot?”

He furrows his brows and smiles, exposing his fangs, as he slides a hand over his waves.

“Wait, your fangs… I’m impressed.”

“A vampire needs a good pair of fangs. I’m not an idiot.” 

“I’m learning that…” you mutter looking him up and down.

****

Miguel introduces you to your floor neighbors, in a way that makes you feel like you're his. You look like you belong to each other, but you push those thoughts away. He was kind enough to welcome you and introduce you to his friends. You’re neighbors. Friendly neighbors. 

Your neighbors welcome you, you have multiple small-talk conversations, and most of them ask how you know Miguel. You both say you’re neighbors who’ve just met a few days ago. You’re both liars.

Alicia, the host of the party, calls him out for not attending more of their get-togethers, and he promises he’ll come out more often, as he turns to look at you. 

You all start the night off with one shot of tequila then disperse through her apartment. 

You and Alicia click, as Miguel stands by sipping at a mixed something, listening, and secretly laughing at your tangents. 

After a bit, you both end up alone at the kitchen counter. 

“I think I want to drink a lot tonight. I need it.”

He nods slowly, trying to read your face as he sips his drink. 

“If that’s what you want, okay. I’ll drink with you.” 

He pours you another shot. You cheers then both down it. You wince at the aftertaste, then look up at an unfazed Miguel. 

The music progressively gets louder as the apartment becomes more full. You move to the rhythm, barely dancing, not drunk enough to let him witness it. Miguel smiles, sipping at his drink, leaning against the counter. 

“You know what? You’re like four times my size. You’re going to need to drink four times what I drink to feel anything,” you slur, clinging onto his wrist for balance. 

“Mhmm, okay,” he chuckles, looking down at your hand on his wrist. You’re too tipsy to pull away. His warm skin feels too good, you feel glued to him. He smiles, pouring two more shots into a red cup. 

He drinks, lifting his chin up, his jawline advertised as he swallows the hard liquor. 

“It’s been thirty minutes. I want another.” You slide your shot glass to him.

He grabs the liter of strawberry soda on the counter and starts to pour it into a red cup.

“This should help with the taste.”

He adds a shot into the soda.

“So kind, such a gentleman,” you slur, taking the drink from his hand. 

“Truth or dare!” one of your neighbors yell. Everyone gathers, drunk and stumbling to sit on the floor and on the couch, forming a circle in the living room.

After half of the circle takes their turn, it’s your turn.

“Truth or dare,” Alicia asks you. 

“Dare.”

“I dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with Miguel,” she shrugs.

“Seven minutes– Is this fucking high school?” Miguel mutters rolling his eyes.

“Okay, Y/N, sorry. You’re going to have to take another shot.”

You’re fucked up. Another shot is going to destroy you. 

“Shut up, okay? Mierda. Come on, Y/N,” he mutters as he stands up. He reaches both hands down to you, then helps you up. You stumble, as he grabs your hand and leads you to the closet down the hallway.

You both enter the closet; Miguel leaves the door open a crack, allowing the purple light to illuminate the side of his face. The speakers begin to blast music again in the living room. It bleeds into the dark closet. 

You laugh at how drunk you are, and at the situation, then look up at Miguel. His concern is obvious, but it fades a bit when your eyes meet. 

“I was too sober to say it earlier, but you look… divine,” he confesses.

“Wow, that’s… you can’t do that to me. Not now,” you laugh, looking down, shaking your head. You avoid eye contact.

You’ve dreamt about moments like this since university. About being this close to him, about him saying romantic things like this, but you’re drunk, and you don’t believe him. 

“I mean it,” he adds, leaning down to catch your eyes. 

“You look really good too. So handsome,” you breathe out. You cover your eyes. That took a lot. 

“Yeah? You think I’m handsome?” he asks, drawing closer. 

He gently pulls your hands off of your face.

You look up at him.

His cheeks are pink, flushed from the alcohol, his hair is less tame than it was when you got here, and his crimson eyes are radiant, even in the dark.

“Miguel,” you exhale.

“Y/N,” he says, smoothly, deep, pretty on his tongue.

You grasp onto his suit jacket, pulling him into you. 

He strokes your cheek, then combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face. 

You stare into each other’s eyes, then his eyes wander down to your lips. 

You tilt your face up and he leans down.

You kiss. 

It’s heated, drunk, wet, and addictive.

It intensifies as he slowly presses you up against the wall, your lips still glued to each other. 

His lips detach, his kisses trailing down to your neck.

“Y/N,” he breathes against your skin. 

“I know you remember me,” he mutters into your neck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“English 150A. I know you remember.”

“I didn’t realize you did.” 

“You’re hard to forget.”

You pull him back in for a kiss, shutting him up. It’s drunk and passionate. Your cheeks burn hot.

His fangs are razor-sharp; you’re too drunk to realize when they cause you pain.

You pull away, then reach your hand up to his lips.

“Can I?” 

He obeys, looking down at you with drowsy eyes. 

You stroke his fangs. They’re hyper realistic. If you applied a bit more pressure, they would puncture the tip of your finger. 

“Why are they so sharp? Mine aren’t that sharp. Where did you get them?”

“Doesn’t matter. They were expensive though,” he shrugs, allowing you to continue touching his lips with your thumb.

“Miguel, these could actually cut me.” 

You reach back to his fangs, before he gently pulls your hand away.

“Here, I’ll do it,” 

He grazes his own fingertip on his fang, drawing blood.

“Miguel, stop,” you squeal, yanking his hand away from his mouth. 

He laughs, showing you the blood. He’s too drunk to read the concern on your face and you’re too drunk to realize it’s not that serious.

“It’s like a paper cut, Y/N,” he reasons, sucking the blood off his finger. 

“You’re annoying. I’m not staying here and entertaining this.” You reach for the closet door. He grabs your wrist. You turn to look up at him. 

“Come on, Boots, I was just showing you,” 

“What? What did you just call me?”  

“Boots. You wore those red rain boots that week of the storm. I thought they were cute, and it just stuck with me,” he says, shrugging it off.

“You really do remember me. Okay, we’re doing this… wait, you’re a science boy, what were you doing TA-ing for an English course?” 

“Hm yeah, it was a favor for Professor Reyes,” 

“Favor for what?”

“I’m too drunk to talk about this right now,” he groans, throwing his head back.

“Okay,” you nod, leaning only your back against the wall.

He looks up at you, then slowly approaches you. 

“We still have like four minutes left,” you sigh.

“Four minutes. I can work with that,” he smirks, towering over you.

Then he’s kissing you, hands on your waist, holding you against his body. Again, he’s pressing you up against the wall. 

His leg is in between your legs, as you lean back. 

You squeeze his tricep, encouraging the pressure he’s applying all over you.

“You’re so warm, and god, you’re so beautiful,” he grumbles into your lips.

You feel it, something pressing into your thigh, against your dress. 

The butterflies in your stomach intensify. You feel hot all over. You’re drunk and you want him and he’s right here and he wants you too.

“I want you,” you moan into his mouth. 

“Yeah?” he whispers, trailing his lips down to your neck, sucking gently. 

“Harder,” you encourage, enjoying yourself a little too much. 

You comb your fingers through his hair, gripping tightly.

He squeezes your thigh, holding you tight against his leg. 

He sucks harder; you feel his fangs brush against your skin.

You moan, pulling his hips into yours. He grips your waist tighter. If you weren’t wearing this dress, his fingerprints would be bruised into you. He hangs his head on your shoulder, quietly moaning into your skin, before bruising you again.

He restrains himself. 

“Now bite me,” 

He pulls his face from your neck.

“Y/N,” he says, head tilted, face drowsy, hair tousled. 

“It’s gonna hurt,” he shakes his head, his eyes glued to your lips.

You pull him down for a kiss. 

The music stops. 

“Seven minutes up!” they yell, clapping. 

You pull away from each other. You try to catch your breath.

You fix your hair, bring it forward to cover your neck, wipe around your lips, and look up at Miguel, who’s brushing his hair back and straightening out his suit. 

You walk out of the closet and join the circle once again. 

“How were the seven minutes? How was the sex?” they tease.

“We just talked,” you slur, shrugging, suppressing your smile.

“Miguel?” they press on.

“We just talked. You heard her,” he defends, eyebrows furrowed at their doubt.

They move on to their next victim. 

You turn to each other. Your eyes meet then break. 

The night goes on. 

⋆♱✮☽🎃☾✮♰⋆

Happy Halloween 🧛🏼‍♀️

-G ⋆୨୧˚

ch.8 here

[he-goes-down]

vampire izzy. pleasd i need him

Ur a whore like me (POSITIVE)

Lullaby

Masterlist

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin(Vampire) x reader

Warnings: vampire? Bit of a blood kink cus vampire. Smut!!! Unprotected p in v. Less dialogue more descriptionWORST SMUT TRANSITION EVER

Second person POV:

“Who are you?”

A low voice echoed throughout the cathedral like manor, scaring you making you jump. You thought the place was abandoned as you tried to look for shelter out of the rain and cold dark night. You looked around the shadow filled room, your eyes trailing up the grey walls and pillars, not expecting to find anyone up there. But, a dark shadow fell down fast from the unlit ceiling. You stood still. Glistening hazel eyes glared at you from a far, you couldn’t make out the rest of the face as an arm was in front of it. The figure soon speed far left from you, far back, then far right and immensely fast inhumane speeds. Didn’t even looked like the feet moved and inch off the ground. The figure soon flash past your eyes and stopped right in front of you. Those eyes. The moonbeams reflected of his iris showing glowing brown and green colours, but then a flash of red covered them and flashed back to normal.

You shivered, your skin chilling and making goosebumps while you stood paralyzed as the figure moved closer. Now seeing his features in the moon light. Dark jet black shoulder length hair, pale white skin, straight big nose, pink lips. Fangs. He drew closer, you were still stood still as you couldn’t mover, actually paralysed. His hand clutched onto your face harshly, his fingertips digging into your cheeks. “You never answered the question doll.” He said. You couldn’t speak, not because of fear, and terror, but because you physically couldn’t. With a snap of his fingers you mouth was freed for the invisible lock. Your lips parted trying to form a sentence for this stranger. Not just any stranger a vampire. The vampire inspected your face, last landing on your lips, your mouth still slightly a gape. Realizing you had no fangs. He could have taken you right then an there for dinner, but he didn’t. “Answer it.” He commanded. “I’m sorry- I’m no one, I just needed a place to take cover from the rain.” You sputtered out.He looked at you up and down, analyzing. Letting go of your face. Taking off your now damp hood, caressing his thumb on your temple as his hand clawed around to the back if your head, holding you. Gently.

“Come with me. I’ll keep you warm.” He said, his eyes turning red then back to normal again, turning on his heel. Your body now unparalysed. You didn’t even know his man but you were entranced by his gorgeous features. ‘Shit he’s a vampire though he could kill you.’ You internal dialogue began. ‘Yeah, but i’d let him.’ ‘Hmm, true he is so so fine.’ The angel on your shoulder agreed with the devil on the right. ‘And get this, if he bites us we could be vampires too.’ ‘Omg you’re so fucking smart.’ Sometimes your internal dialogue weren’t the most logical of the bunch.

You followed the man, upstairs, downstairs, through windy corridors, never ending corridors. Until finally coming to a wooden door. He opened it revealing a very nice kept up bedroom, no dust, a canopy bed with black and white lacing bedding. Everything you’d find on gothic vampire pinterest board. You really expected for him to sleep in a coffin but I guess the black out curtains were enough for him. You were entranced by the room but got snapped out of it by his voice. “Get undressed.” Straight forward to the point. You look at him for a second in utter shock. “Huh?” You responded after a pause. “I apologise… I haven’t had visitors in, well a while. Let alone, a human…” He told you. Then explaining that he had extra clothes you could borrow so you would have to be in the wet clothes you were in now. You agreed feeling a bit stupid, but you were both in the same boat. Whilst you got dressed he set up the fire on the other end on the room, and you did get to know each others name, his was Izzy. Once you finish buttoning the second last button from the top of the white oversized blouse, your hair moved from your neck, exposing it. A deep quiet sniff was heard from him, and a grunt, almost sexual.

You looked back to him, crouching down by the fire place, he was in middle of setting it a lit but now his eyes were boring into the floor, holding his mouth, biting on his finger. “Are you okay?” You began to slowly walk towards him, He waved his hand at you telling you it’s fine and you could stay were you were. He did glance at you, and back to the floorboards trying to collect himself but he did a double take. You in his blouse, neck and partly exposed. The fabric only going little past your hips onto your thigh, your legs all the way exposed as you just had your panties on. A softer incoherent grunt cane out his mouth this time, eyeing you from your sexy legs to your delectable neck and your pretty face. You looked at him confused as he got up, the fire place still not lit. He looked at you through his brows, lust and bloodlust coursing through his veins. Another flash of red in his eyes and a flash of his. Inhumane speed. Standing right behind you.

“There’s another way I can warm you up…”

He spoke softly into your ear, you could hear the sound of his fangs like a knife being sharpened. Shit. Your mind was racing, there was two different meanings to this. Being made into a vampire, or a vampire being in you. Both of those options tickled your secret fanatasies

“What do you mean…?” You asked stampering

“Both.” His face lowered to your neck

It was like he knew you mind, like he could read it.

“ I can.” He answered to your internal monologue. You looked at him with surprise, “Oh, but I cant stop if you want.” He said as he retracted his hands that was about to snake around your waste. His eyes flashed red again and back to normal. He wasn’t spying on your brain anymore. But he already knows what you want, deeply. “But… can I?” He paused and stammered want to put his arms around you, and the things that you were thinking of. You nodded but he just kissed your neck and groaned softly. “Use your words precious angel…” He told you. You squeaked out a needy yes, his hands traveling to hold you, arms around you from behind, fingers fiddling with the fabric of the shirt. You heard a few groans from him as his nose and mouth were right there on your neck, but he tried to control himself to not go wild. Your delicious scent, tender and soft skin made him weak and practically drooling. His hands found his way under the shirt, caressing up to your waist where he held you. Your cheeks were set a flame, burning red hot, so was the rest of your body. His mouth opened slightly on your neck, his hands travelling down again to your hips, his fangs grazing over your supple skin. His breath making your whole body shiver and tingle.

His fingers began to tap on your hips, looping his fingers under on the ends of your panties. Hie kissed your neck when his hand went under your panties and slowly made it to your aching core. After one kiss he couldn’t get enough. Kisses getting more aggressive and hungry after each taste of your skin. “Fuck…” You cursed as his finger began to work circles on your clit. He kept sighing and moaning as your un pierced skin teased his fangs. Wanting to take this new found virginity of yours. “Shit.” He hissed, nearly bitting into you. He didn’t have plans to stop, he had plans to get more comfortable. He turned you around with one quick motion and pushed you onto the bed. You shifted back so your whole body was lying on the bed, arms perching up your torso. Izzy crawling over you, and with a snap of his fingers the dark, red and black lace curtains fell from their restrains and perfectly placed themselves closed. Izzy effortlessly moved your body, your head now on the soft satin pillows. Him in between your legs, his eyes scanning every single crevice of your body, the best scene he’s seen in over hundred years of living.

He unbuttoned the shirt with ease, seeing you in only your panties. His hard on very visible against his pants. “Perfect.” He said, seeing your nearly naked body. Another snap of his fingers and all his clothes except his underwear was still on. His dick even more visible. You could foam at the mouth seeing how enormous he is. With another swift movement he took off your panties and his boxers soon after. Now his dripping tip against your wet heat. Looking st you with a desperate and pleading look. You agreed. His tip digging into your slowly, his mouth now back on your neck. Kisses over kisses, getting sloppier as he went further deeper into you and as he began to lose self control, and the blood pumping in you veins right below him teased ever sense in his body. You moaned, wriggling under him trying to get comfortable as he completely stretched out your sweet cunt. Moaning and whining as he bottomed out into you. Slight sweat dripping dien his face and body, panting and sighing as you clenched around him tightly.

One of your sweet moans turned into a scream as your felt his fangs graze over your skin then violently inject into your neck. Blood came drizzling out the two formed holes, Izzy sucked most of it away into his mouth before it dripped down further. Except for a few drops snd trails that went dien to your breasts and even down your stomach. Izzy watched the scene hearing your painful yet moans that were laced with a sick pleasure, sucking on your neck and draining your veins. Your mind and his became foggy, his covered by sick lust and yours by loosing blood. Your neck became to sting and ache less as Izzy began to thrust is huge cock in and out of you. “My good little - fucking-…” He couldn’t finished his sentence as he moaned whilst ramming his cock onto your g spot, making your even feel it in your throat. It made your head spin as he called you ‘his’, clenching around his dick as he spoke in groans into your ear whilst he was still fang deep into you.

Your hips slammed together again and again, the whole manor was filled with moans and the sound of skin against skin. You were about to pass out right before Izzy gained some self control and retracted his fangs from your body. You whined as his thrusts became slower and as your neck ached like a thousand bruises would show up tomorrow on it. Izzy watched as the blood streamed from your neck, tainted your breasts and red colour, traveling down to your stomach and getting lost from sight as it traveled beyond your pleasure bound hips. Izzy moaned again, needing to keep his mouth occupied and not suck you to death. He was now going deathly slow trying to control himself. “Izzy- please… harder-” You moaned out as your tried to get some friction. The last of your whines were muffled as his mouth passionately met yours, lips crashing as his dick pounded into you violently. The bed shaking and squeaking, Izzys perfect dark hair getting messy as he fucked you with inhumane strength. His tongue found its way into your mouth, swirling around as you tasted the metallic taste of your own blood from his mouth. You moaned in pleasure as he continued fucking you like an animal, his hands now getting your arms away from clawing and leaving deep scratches on his back only to then use on hand and handcuffs and pin your arms and hands above your head. The other hand went to one of your thighs, lifting it and pushing it a bit to the side. Digging his nails into your skin as this new angle could make him fuck deeper into you. “Oh fuck-“ you moaned against Izzy’s mouth, feeling your orgasm bubbled in the pits of your stomach, swallowing and sighing hard, feeling the ache in your neck as your body began to shake lightly. “Cum on me sunshine.” He said. ‘Sunshine’ his only weakness in the world, and it was you, your tasty blood, your precious lips, everything.

Your legs shook as he pounded into you harder and harder making your orgasm burst like a flame, you moaned and sighed as your juices spilt over his dick as you clenched tightly, some of the juiced leaking from your filled pussy and mixing with the blood that ran down your inner thigh. A few more thrusts snd Izzy was holding your wrists tighter and his dick twitched inside you. “Fuck- good girl… take my cum.” He told you lowly as his thrusts became more sloppy and desperate. He moaned and cursed away from your mouth now and back to muffling noises against your blood soaked neck. He came inside of you, coating your walls white, the warm sensation making you whine, some of it leaking out aswell to mix with the other liquids on your inner thighs.

He pulled out letting his cum and your juices spill from you. Soon after watching the erotic scene if your blood and his cum mix, he got up to get bandages and a small biscuit. He bandaged your neck, gave you the biscuit before kissing your forehead. He wiped up the mess the two of your made, and came to lie next to you. Him moving your body with effortlessness again, now for him to make you lie on top of him. Holding and cuddling you in his silk and satin bed.

“You’re mine now sunshine.”

[keeksandgigz]

lavender syrup (part one of lessons in alchemy)

barista!eddie munson x fem!barista!reader AU

summary: Eddie is the owner of the most popular cafe in his small town, "The Mad Alchemist," you are the owner of the rival cafe "Daily Drug". You obviously hate each other, but when a pipe bursts into your cafe that might take months to repair, your contractor assigns you and your coworkers to work with Eddie in order to keep your job, just until "Daily Drug" is ready to run again. Is tolerating him really that big of a feat?

cw: 4k words, swearing, modern setting, allusions to smut but nothing explicit (yet), Eddie calls reader a bitch a couple times and he's such a condescending asshole but in a hot way, i feel like the sexual tension needs its own tw, Steve is also in this <3

a/n: pls like and reblog and feedback is always so very much appreciated!! my requests are always open if u wanna chat <3

divider by @benkeibear

Eddie Munson wasn’t the type to want much from life. He was content in his little town, managing the coffee shop that kept it alive. From the early morning crew of truckers, farmers, nurses and cops to the 9 am rushes of the corporate job workers from one town over to the yoga moms, the high schoolers after the ring of the last bell. Eddie Munson did not have any big plans for his life. The little coffee shop made him enough money that he was able to take care of his uncle, now retired, and live by himself in a small apartment with his roommate, Steve. 

He got an associate’s degree in business, and after that he opened “The Mad Alchemist Cafe,” a DnD themed rustic coffee shop filled with beakers, lights and plants. The exposed brick the “interior designer” (it really was just a friend who had a good eye) begged him to paint over was instead littered with posters of announcements. He would host poetry slams, band performances, most importantly DnD campaigns he'd have to close down the cafe for in the evenings. For a few years he had also been hosting Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners for those who didn’t have a family to go home to for the holidays. 

He hired his roommate and closest friend, Steve to be the baker. Straight out of cooking school, Steve Harrington took care of the sweet and savory. The thousand- layer croissants that would melt once slightly placed on the tip of the tongue. Airy, buttery pastry that made Eddie's customers sigh with every bite, as they lingered on the wooden bar, conversing with the baristas. The lunch hour crew, asking for meatball sandwiches and messy pasta bowls. He’d make turkeys for the dinners at the cafe, during the holiday season, along with insurmountable potato dishes and stuffing. 

Eddie's life was littered with small sprinkles of joy. Everyone knew him as the kid from the cafe, with his long hair, sticking out of the messy bun he would wear to work. It started off as a joke in middle school, when Eddie's hair was buzzed due to a lice epidemic. Steve had miserably beat him at the arcade. He had grown fond of the long hair though, and added to the mystique of his coffee shop. It was also metal as fuck.

He felt like he was the main accessory to his lovely brick building; there would not have been  “The Mad Alchemist Cafe” without Eddie Munson, something that both staff and customers knew. The cafe would also not have been the cafe without the three years long rivalry with the only other cafe on their side of town, “Daily Drug” that opened a year after Eddie’s. The brand new establishment that started taking customers from him, claiming that their chai lattes and breakfast sandwiches were to die for.

Eddie had not interacted much with you, the owner of the cafe. Your bossy, stuck up and overall terrible attitude were a house trade mark there. He had been in the cafe though, and understood why “Daily Drug” was such an incredible contender to his establishment. The ambiance was different, like a Pinterest board had come to life. The pink and blue tile that decorated the walls as well as the ironic bitchy posters that ranged from a snarky “What are you looking at?” to a direct and curt “don’t be an asshole” decorated the walls. 

It was nothing like the cafe Eddie had imagined, the colorful palette contrasting with the caricaturistic mean and sarcastic ways of the staff, whose bitterness might have actually improved the taste of their coffee, as their lavender lattes tasted way sweeter, the syrup not overpowering the taste of the coffee, perfectly blended with the best milk for the beverage, which he found was almond.

You could have easily spat in his cup, but you serve him with feigned kindness as you make sure to make him hear a soundly “UGH could he be any more annoying?” to a blonde haired coworker, whose name he finds out later is Colette. Colette erupts in laughter as she serves his lavender latte with an egg and sausage burrito with a side of aggressive side eye. You had definitely spat in his drink. 

A fifteen- minute car ride later, Eddie enters his cafe begrudged by his inability to master a lavender latte. The taste of his in- house lavender syrup is too artificial, while “Daily Drug”’s try as he might is a flavor that he had never encountered.

The lavender provides a sweet flavor to the drink that pairs perfectly with the bitter coffee and the creamy taste of the almond milk without the artificial aftertaste. He beelines to the back of the building, to the room he called his lab, setting down his bag on a stool next to him as he takes a bored bite out of the egg and sausage burrito. Hm. Steve's is better. 

He jots down some notes in his journal. Try lemon for lavender syrup. Fennel seed in the sausage. Paprika maybe? Definitely garlic. He should have listened to his uncle and he should have gone to cooking school before he had opened the restaurant. He knew that he had the talent for it, Steve had even asked him to apply together, but he felt like it was not his true calling. 

“Your true calling is bossing everyone around, Ed” said his uncle with a laugh, one of the many sleepless nights he had spent mulling over the cafe during its early days. A knock startles him from his reverie. It's Steve. 

“Hey, didn’t see you come in. Are you still stressing over that lavender syrup thing?” he leans on the doorframe, half smiling at Eddie. He came in too early. Him and Steve were kind of the same in that regard, once haunted by an idea, they would not rest until it was executed. 

“What was it this morning? Strawberry frosting on matcha rolls?” says Eddie taking another bite out of his stale burrito.

"Nah, it's for the Halloween special, I'm trying to figure out the menu. We need to remember to add more nutmeg to the pumpkin spice syrup this year" Steve says, crossing his arms.

"Shit, yeah, I almost forgot. Also, this" Eddie shakes his burrito towards his friend "does not compare to yours by, like, miles. The sausage is too dry and the egg too cooked" Steve shrugs and fixes his glasses with a smug smile.

"Knew it." Eddie laughs at that, then proceeds to scribble in his leather bound notebook. Then the phone rings.

"Hey Steve, do you mind getting that?" Eddie says, not moving his head from the notebook.

"You got it boss" Steve heads towards the phone in Eddie's office.

"'Mad Alchemist Cafe' Steve speaking...Mhm...yeah, Eddie's in...oh shit" at that, Eddie turns his head.

"What is it, what's wrong Steve?" his tone alarmed as he paces towards the phone.

"Yeah no he's here you can talk to him, Jim" Steve passes the phone, making a face, the corners of his mouth pulled as if he were in trouble. "It's Jim" his contractor. Fuck.

Eddie presses the phone to his ear "Hey Jim, what's up?" his tone tense and cautious.

"Hey, kid, I don't know how to tell you this, but a pipe burst at 'Daily Drug'" Jim sounds scared, but Eddie is still struggling to figure out what that had to do with him, other than the fact that he would finally get back his traitorous customers who had gone to the dark side when “Daily Drug” opened.

"Yeah, ok, and that's my problem because?" he's annoyed at the ominous way Jim called at 8 in the morning concerned for his rival cafe's burst pipes.

"Are you sitting down, kid?" Ed rolls his eyes, he's getting seriously pissed off at this whole mystery thing his contractor's getting at.

"Yeah, Jim. Fuck sake just spit it out"

"Alright, alright no need to get aggressive" Jim takes a deep breath in "In order for the girls at 'Daily Drug' to keep their jobs you need to hire them, at least until the shop is up and running again." Oh shit indeed. Jim trails off, waiting for a reaction.

"How long Jim?" Eddie's fuming.

"It could take up to six months, really, the pipe fucked up the whole kitchen so they need to redo the back and stuff, hell it might take a year knowing how slow these fuckers operate" Jim exhales, he's probably shaking. Eddie did not make his contempt for “Daily Drug” unknown.

“Jesus Christ Jim you can’t do this to me. You know how much that- that bitch hates me. Everytime I go there I'm pretty sure she spits in my coffee. I'm actually convinced they all do, Jim" he's spiraling.

"C'mon kid, don't be stupid. That would violate an incredibly long amount of regulations and they would need to close down if it were true. Which I don't think it is" Jim sounds like he's finding this amusing now.

"This is not funny. And- and then what? The owner just comes in here and she starts actin' like she owns the place? We start sharing responsibilities? That's real cute, Jim, y'know that? Incredibly cute." Only then Eddie had notices how hard he had been gripping the phone. And the armrest of his chair.

"Eddie, you're throwing a tantrum. The owner doesn't hate you, they're hired under the agency and I just pulled some strings because I know you and these girls- these girls have families to support and I didn't want to scatter them all across town. I know they will be in good hands, they're not your employees, Eddie. Get it in that thick skull or I'm closing your shit down" Fuck. He's backed up into a corner.

"Alright. When do they start?" He grabs a pen and a piece of paper and scribbles Daily Drug start dates.

"Okay, so we have eight employees. Four of them are going across town, I have that cafe there. The rest are going to you- Virginia, Colette, Chrissy and the owner are all going to your cafe. They start tomorrow at 9 am. Better brush up on those training books, kid." Jim snickers.

"You're hilarious, Jim y'know that?" he quickly jots down the names and the time, stopping at your name for a second, before putting an angry face next to it.

"Aw, come on, kid. Maybe it might be a great way for you all to bond and put this stupid rivalry behind"

"Yeah- yeah no, and then we're gonna ride on the rainbow towards a pot of gold and do a little jig. Of course, Jim. I am healed already. Listen, I'll call you tomorrow after everything- if that bitch doesn't put a knife at my throat, speaking of, I should hide them" he seethes.

"Don't stress Ed. You'll be okay, what matters is that-" Jim never gets to finish that sentence, blocked by the violent slam of Eddie's phone back into its socket.

"FUCKING SHIT" he yells, kicking the bottom of his desk.

"I take it wasn't good news?" Steve leans on the threshold of Eddie's office.

"Steve- God I want to punch something. The owner of 'Daily Drug' in here. She's gonna kill me. Hide the knives"

"If I didn't know you like the back of my hand I'd say you're a little scared of her, Ed."

"Have you seen her? She's terrifying. So mean. I'd be turned on if she wasn't my archenemy" and he does have eyes, he thinks you're attractive. He's fantasized about putting you in your place, sometimes. About shutting your mouth up, see how witty you were after he'd make you go dumb from a few rounds.

He shakes his head. He has to stop.

"Well, maybe you can be nice to her so we can steal her lavender syrup recipe" Steve suggests. And as morally wrong as that sounds, you've spit in his drink before, so what's a bit of foul play compared to an FDA violation?

"Steven you might be onto something, but for now let's just worry about surviving tomorrow- God I know it's gonna be awful" Eddie says. As he said that, one of his employees, Jeff, comes knocking at his office.

"Eddie, the owner of the other cafe is here, she's asking for you." Eddie's eyes widen. The fuck is she doing here?

"The fuck- Okay thank you, Jeff. Send her back here." He dismisses his barista and Steve follows him back into the kitchen.

There is no hiding you're angry. Starting a job at a place where you knew everyone hated you seemed a bit of a cunt move from Jim, and there you are. Heading towards Eddie Munson's office, walking like you own the damn place.

"You look a little too sure of yourself for someone who lost their cafe, sweetheart. What is it, hm? What are you doing here?"

His condescending tone only stokes your anger more.

"I just came here to see the place, see if I have to dumb myself down. Maybe you guys don't know what cortados are" Feigned pity in your face.

"If you've come here to be a bitch you can go right home. One call to Jim and I can end this arrangement as quickly as it started, let's not get like that, m'kay?" his smile is devilish and god it's so hard to not find him attractive even when you want to rip him to shreds for threatening you.

"I didn't come here to bitch. I wanted to pick up our aprons? You guys have cute aprons. At least you have good taste in something" you scoff, and he shoots you a look. Fucking brat.

"Yeah- um" Eddie stands up from his desk and reaches for a box in the corner of his office "I'll give you two each. Try to keep 'em clean, I don't like dirty aprons. I've seen how messy you guys are at the cafe, that won't fly here 'kay? We really value cleanliness and order here"

"How clean can a cafe run by a man really be, huh? that's probably why your lights are so dim" he wants to kill you, but also pin you against the wall and shove his tongue down your throat so you can stop talking.

"You've had a long morning, sweetheart. Why don't you go home and sleep it off? I'm afraid you're letting off all this negative energy here and we don't want that. Not here" his tone's more stern rather than joking "I'll see ya bright an' early tomorrow morning at nine. Please don't come late, yeah?" he winks at you, cueing you to leave.

As you cross the threshold of the cafe you cannot possibly fathom what was it that left you so flustered and with an insatiable hunger between your thighs.

You pick up your coworker Colette on the way to work the morning after, presenting her with a bagel and all your rage directed towards Eddie. 

“No, Col, you don’t understand. He threatened to call Jim for a little remark. You know how insane that is? He’s gonna use whatever sick power he thinks he has over me to make me stay in line. Nope, no sir not with me” you say, turning into the parking lot of the cafe. 

“This Eddie guy really is an asshole, huh?” Colette remarks, getting out of the car. 

“You have no idea, it’s like he thinks he’s the shit or something just because the whole town loves him” 

“Everyone does love me, sweetheart. Good morning ladies, I’d recommend getting in, you have five minutes.” Eddie's right behind you, closing the trunk of his van, wearing one of his dumb satanic shirts. It's black, arms covered by a ratty black leather jacket. His hair is down and a messenger bag littered with button pins is slung over his shoulder, resting on his hip. All it takes is one snide remark and then he's gone inside the shop. 

You don't realize you're staring until Colette pinches the back of your arm, you reach for the affected area. “Babes, not him. Literally anyone but him, you have literally spent the whole car ride talking about how much of an asshole he is” 

“I have eyes, Col. He’s hot, and as much as I’d love to sleep with him, my hatred for this asshole is a bit too strong. I’d probably punch him mid- act anyway” you snicker and follow Eddie inside the store. Virginia and Chrissy are already inside, you shoot them a comforting look and a light touch to Virginia’s arm, who seriously lookes like she's about to cry.

“You okay, Gin?” you ask, lightly elbowing her arm. 

“No, I- I’m okay. Just nervous, also a bit scared. The boss seems mean” she trembles. She's only seventeen, after all. She's been working since she had been able to, if not before. Taking babysitting jobs until she turned fifteen, then just started taking customer service jobs, until she stumbled inside “Daily Drug,” with the extensive resume she had, she had been easy to hire. 

“He’s an asshole, but don’t let him intimidate you. He can’t do anything without Jim’s approval, just remember that, hun” you squeeze her arm as Eddie enters, having shed his jacket, putting his hair up, and tying the purple apron around his waist. A small, golden tag says his name on the right side of his chest. 

“Good morning, ladies. My name is Eddie, the owner of this fine establishment” he bows, smirking. “The crew at “Mad Alchemist” is deeply sorry about what happened at your cafe. We will do everything in our power to make you guys feel welcome for your short stay here” at the mention of “short” his eyes dart at you. You’re not the only one who hopes this bullshit will be short, dickhead.

You step forward, putting your best polite face on. “Thanks, Eddie. We’re extremely grateful for the opportunity to keep working, and we hope to learn from our time here” you say through gritted teeth. Even being that nice to him feels like nails on a chalkboard on your brain. “These are my baristas- Virginia, Chrissy, and Colette, my baker” you point at each of your girls. 

“Oh Colette, you’re gonna want to meet with Steve, then- He’s my baker and pastry chef. I’m sure you both have a lot of things to talk about, and a lot of work to do since our Halloween special will be dropping in a week from today” a taut smile appears on his lips. 

The guy in the back with the gorgeous head of hair and round glasses whom you assume is Steve waves his hand and Colette shoots you an assuring look before she runs to him, disappearing in the back, where you assume the pastry shop is. 

No one to run to now.

"Perfect, shall we begin?" Eddie's voice feels muffled in your ears as he assigns each one of his baristas to one of yours for training. The cafe has just passed its early morning peak time, meaning that in a couple hours you will have a lunch rush. Everything feels like it's moving too fast.

The noises around you become clear again when Eddie grazes the bare skin of your arm. You shiver. Unbeknownst to you, his hand flexes at his side.

"Scared, sweetheart? You look like you've seen a ghost..." his mouth is moving, but you can't understand anything of whatever he's saying. You're unconsciously rubbing the area Eddie had touched, his fingers warm yet rough, from all the times he's had to wash his hands throughout the day.

You haven't noticed until now how thick his fingers are. Suddenly, the feeling of a phantom limb reaching out, wrapping a hand around your throat, gently feeling its way down your neck, your shoulders, your clavicle, down your stomach and into-

"You wanna follow me to my office or what? I have a couple questions for you" Eddie breaks you out of your sick reverie, leaving you a bit flushed in the face, afraid to look at him in the eye.

"Yeah-uh sorry. Lead the way" you say, and suddenly the floor becomes very interesting to look at.

Quickly, everyone gets to work. The girls being taught the house drinks by the guys at the bar, whilst you follow Eddie in his office. 

“I just need to know if there’s any schedule preferences from the girls, just in case there’s any conflict. I was thinking, since the Halloween special will be dropping, one of these days you might need to sit in here with me and I’ll give you a proper training of what that entails. Y’know tastings and such.” His demeanor has switched from snarky to utterly professional, for which you thank whatever entity in the sky, allowing you a break from his abrasive behavior. 

He sits down at his desk and pulls out a notepad and a pen. He looks at you with waiting eyes.

“Yeah, um, Virginia has school during the week and can’t work until after three and she can only work four hours on weekdays, three days a week and usually a full shift during the weekend. Chrissy and Colette can work whenever, but please don’t schedule Col at the early hours of the mornings, she actually cannot function. She’s more useful to you awake” you let out a breathy laugh, remembering Colette putting salt instead of sugar in a batch of banana bread muffins. 

In the meantime, Eddie scribbles on his notepad. You feel uneasy in a room with him without the loud tensions of an argument looming, the blood booming in your ears. 

“And you?” he raises an eyebrow, lifting his face from the notepad. 

“Oh, I’ll just come in whenever you need me. I really don’t mind, I just need a good amount of hours. I um- I have my dad to take at the hospital on Saturday mornings, but I can come after” you say, your face tinging a bright red. 

 He scribbles that down, embarrassment visible on your face as the tension in the room becomes suffocating. 

“Alright, I’ll have those schedules ready by the end of the day. I need you to come in tomorrow through Wednesday. Opening shift Monday and Tuesday, you’ll close with me and Chrissy on Wednesday. Sounds good?” he keeps writing down in his notepad, you nod. He tuts “I need words, I can’t see you nodding or shaking your head if I’m writing, can I?” 

“Y-yeah, that sounds good. Sorry” You feel even more embarrassed, the tops of your ears tinging red. 

“Don’t apologize. Just do better next time” Eddie thrums a ringed hand on the edge of his desk. He's never seen you this docile and it puts him off. He was hoping for some snide remark, but you're looking around nervously, playing with the laces of your apron, which he finds enhances the curves and features of your body. Wondering what you’d look like in nothing but that apron, all the exposed skin of your back, shoulders and– 

“Are we done here?” there she is. The snarky question makes him jump, thanking the desk for covering the lower half of his body. 

“Yeah, I can go train you now, just gimme a sec, I’ll meet you outside” I need to get rid of that boner is what he means, but you don't budge. 

“Fuck no, you’re not training me. Gimme someone else” you remark, crossing your arms. 

“God there I thought you weren’t gonna be a bitch today.” He exhales. “How many people do you see in the staff, huh? It's Steve, Gareth, Jeff and I. Not much of a merry group. You either let me train you or the door is that way.” you can tell he’s had enough of you, which only stokes your fire even more.

“Literally anyone but you. You can train Virginia, I’m sure you have a bit of heart to not be a dick to a literal child. Not that she even needs training, she has more knowledge and better work ethics than you assholes” you spit, and you’re sure Eddie wants to kill you. 

“I don’t tolerate this kind of language in my store. I’m sure that’s what attracted all my customers to your store, but you can shut that filthy mouth in here. Now, you’re gonna go out and wait for me to train you, understood?” he's seething. 

“Or what? You can’t do shit Eddie. I’m not your little employee, you can’t fucking threaten me” you're winded, this argument is stupid and you want to punch him. 

“Alright” Eddie stands up abruptly and stalks towards you. “train yourself then.”

His tone is calm and collected, which makes you tremble. He's close. Really close.

“I wanna watch you crash and burn and struggle to make a dragon’s breath latte. You don’t want me to train you? Fine. Perfect. The less time I have to spend away from your bitch mouth the better my day will be. Recipe cards are on the counter. Have fun” he taps his hand on your shoulder and gives you a pulled smile, then walks back to his desk. 

He's fucking brutal.

[jadeee]

Living with Nanami - Part 2

feel free to read part 1 here 🛋️ I poured my heart into the first one and what do you know, I did the same thing here. this is incredibly long so consider youreself warned.

Not a lot of pillows on the couch or bed. It's just not practical. Honestly, he doesn't really care too much about this so he lets you have free reign. As long as it's comfortable enough to relax on, he's happy.

If you're like most people, your plants are barely surviving. They only get water when you remember. You don't think much about re-potting them, fluffing the soil, or moving them toward the sun from time to time; so, that unintentionally becomes Nanami's part time job. He can'r just leave them to die! Because then you'll complain, then buy another plant only for it to wilt within a matter of days.

The routine he develops is actually quite nice. He takes care of your plants every Saturday morning while you're still in bed - wiping their leaves of dust, checking how damp the soil is, looking for pests. When you comment on how well they're growing he simply says "Yes, they are," feeling a bit of pride swell in his chest.

Self-insert: One night, you two paint some terracotta pots together. Nanami isn't really sure what he's doing. He's not very artsy or creative; it comes so naturally to you and he's a bit envious because you make it look easy. The corner of his mouth was tight as he dragged the paint brush across the fragile pot in his hand. When he pulled back, he eyed it with obvious disappointment. {** pls read the footnote to hear the inspo behind this}

You sensed your husband's uneasiness like an incoming storm. "Ken, let me see." your voice was soft as you leaned over and he turned his handiwork toward you. Your eyes tried to make sense out of the shapes and lines.

"It's supposed to be an animal."

"... oh..."

"Is it really that bad?"

Heat filled your face "What?! No! It's," you studied the piece "abstract."

A soft grumble left him then but he perked up when you grabbed his artwork from him then started to add to it. After a moment, you flashed him the newly improved piece which was another little creature by the animal along with your shared initials. A remnant of a smile flashed across his face.

If you read part 1, do you remember that special framed object I mentioned? It's actually a memento from one of your earlier dates. You're cleaning your purse out one day when Kento walks over and notices an old receipt. He's a bit surprised when you don't throw it out. A smile forms when he hears you say "It means a lot to me." Because it's personal, it's in the bedroom away from prying eyes. Whenever he looks at it, he remembers that moment and it makes him feel warm, safe... loved.

Please don't hang those pictures and things on your own. He doesn't want you to accidentally fall or hurt yourself, so he prefers to do it. Maybe it's just me but I get the feeling these would be perfectly hung. Nice and straight, not slightly crooked.

Always interested to see how you'll redecorate the place when you get "bored". He'll study your Pinterest board and even search for things in his free time -- although he may not tell you. When I say 'search', I mean he's a collaborator on your board so he's adding notes and inspiration when he has the time but he's also searching for what you have so you can actually put it into your home. Imagine coming home one day to a package and he's not there yet. You: Hey, did you order this? *image* Kento: I did. I was hoping to get home first so I could set it up as a surprise. You: Aww! What is it? Kento: Don't open it. Just wait until I get there. You: Okay .... but what is it? Kento: Don't. Open. It. You: But.. Kento: 🫥 You: 🧍‍♀️... please? Kento: No. You: .... just a peek? Kento: (y/n), no. ~His sixth sense kicked in when you didn't respond right away.~ Kento: You did it anyway, didn't you? You: Sorry, I couldn't help it but aaahhhh I LOVE IT! TYSM! 🥰 Kento: You can be so impatient. You're welcome ❤️ Just don't set it up without me, ok? I don't want you to hurt yourself. You: Okay 😊 thank you, dear darling husband💐 Kento: You're welcome, sweetheart ❤️ I love you. You: I love you too, prob more Kento: Oh, don't start. You: 🤭

Side note: he really loves when you call him sweet little nicknames or things like 'darling'. No one's ever seen him in that light so you calling him something so soft and endearing makes his heart sing.

In regard to texting and all things tech, he's a fast learner but he doesn't dedicate himself to keeping up with these kind of things. So when you mention a new game system or getting a DVD player or projector {I saw a tiktok months ago where this lady's living room setup was a projector instead of a TV and now I want one} he's a bit indifferent. He doesn't really care as long as it's not costly and smthn you'll only use sparingly, go for it. Don't be surprised when he starts using it though, after you teach him ofc lol. Imagine coming home early after runngin errands and he's playing your switch 😂 I can also see him using emojis without knowing their intent {example: the sweat emoji}. If you get a DVD player or have anything similar, he actually loves it. He's a milennial {hope I got that right} so the whole thing is nostalgic for him. It makes him feel young again.

He'd have a few special movies that are close to his heart and remind him of better days before he met you. I'd bet everything I own that he has a DVD of the movie(s), he and Yu would watch. He doesn't watch it at first because he already tears up just holding it in his hand so it sits on the shelf for a while. When you inquire about it, he briefly talks about it. He's already told you about Yu and his entire past so you're not surprised. He loves how you don't push him to talk any further though, you're a quiet comfort and he couldn't ask for anything more. One day, he does watch the movie though, I'd imagine it's when he's by himself. 9 times out of 10 it's some horrible comedy. Yu loved it and Nanami only suffered through it for his friend's sake. As the movie plays on, he chuckles at some horrible joke then gets teary eyed when he hears the echoes of Yu's laughter in his mind. "Y'know he'd be proud of you, right?" he hears your words playback in his head then wipes his tears.

He's a laundry wizard. I remember seeing a post a long time ago that said smthn like 'we know he's great at laundry because how does he get all the blood off his clothes'. Can't find it but shoutout to the OP. This would honestly come in clutch for whatever period incidents you have {bc it happens}. I love this though bc he's completely unfazed when it first happens. He sees you rushing to the bathroom and watches you try to get it out then just says he can take care of it. Imagine just watching him to learn 😭he gets a little flustered but tries to maintain his seriousness.

"Wait," you move closer to him until you're peering over his shoulder. Your scent envelops him and he hates how quickly the blood rushes to his cheeks.

"Hm?" he stops working at the stain then looks back at you.

"How much of that stuff did you use?"

"Just a capful."

"Oh, okay." you remain close to him "Continue."

He didn't speak. He couldn't so he just did as told, rubbing out the stain with you hovering over his shoulder.

Actually gets a bit upset when he sees you taking the trash out for the first time. He doesn't yell but he simply stands by you and takes the bag out of your hands with a "I've got it". Tradition gets the best of him at times. His reasoning is that he "doesn't want you to get your hands dirty".

Everything has a designated spot. He'd prefer if you don't move things but if you must, at least tell him first. This actually made me think of the "Honey, where's my super suit?!" scene from The Incredibles lol.

The welcome mat at the front door is what solidified it for him. Seeing it everyday when he unlocks the door just makes him feel so warm. When his eyes land on you popping your head out of the kitchen to greet him with a brief "hey!" they tear up just a bit. He sheds his coat and shoes then walks into the kitchen to wrap his arms around you and bury his head in the crook of your neck. You chuckle out of surprise then wrap your arms around him "Are you ok?" Your fingers find their way to his undercut to give him that comforting caress. He blesses you with one of those low hums of contentment.

Domesticity really brings out the softer side of him. Don't get me wrong, it was always there but the fact that you two now have a place to call your own. It's not an apartment or a small shared space but a house that you've turned into a home. He can paint the walls with you, build a garden, maybe a nursery... he can live here. He can be happy... he can be happy with you.

You don't know he's thinking all of this though. All you know is that one morning, you're glancing out the window and see your husband painting the mailbox. The fabric of your houserobe feels warm on your skin as you step outside. "What are you do-" your eyes land on the white paint of his unfinished work which reads "Nan" in white paint. "I figured we'd be here for a while." he glances at you with rosy cheeks, still holding the paintbrush in his hand. "Where's mine?" He chuckles and hands you his paintbrush then places a kiss on the top of your head. For once, and more to come, he let himself smile fully as he watches you add "a" to your shared last name. "Y'know darling, you shouldn't be out here dressed like that. People may want you for themselves." "I guess you'll have to let them know I'm your wife then." you glance back at him with a smirk then face forward to finish the last detail of your work. When you turn around to hand him the paintbrush, he barely grips it before pulling you in for a brief kiss. The morning feels cool on his skin. The birds are chirping... are they bluejays? He'd find out tomorrow when he wakes up by your side and hears them again.

Author's Note: I think we've established I'm sick for this man made up of lines and colors.

** In season 1, episode 3 of Life Lessons with Uramichi Oniisan, there's a scene where Uramichi is watching TV and a commercial pops up for the viewer to take a psychological test by drawing simple pictures. One of the pictures is an animal and he draws a dog. He then has to send the picture to other people to see if they can accurately guess what it is and it's meant to show if he/the viewer has personality issues. You should be able to watch the full clip here, just go to 21:00! Lmk if the link works or not - this is honestly such a favorite of mine and I haven't even finished it.

p.s.: I found out about the show when I used to work at the mall, LUSH for pple who are curious, and one of the girls/a customer had this really cool tattoo of this funky looking bird. Idk what it was so ofc I had to ask - then she tells me that her and her friend, who was by her side, have matching ones and that it's from Life Lessons with Uramichi Oniisan! I made sure to watch the show when I had time and even though I haven't finished it, I plan on it. He's so relatable, too relatable lmbo, and I can see some similarites between Kento and he; so now I have to finish it, right?

p.p.s: if you read all that, here's your reward lol 🧋🌼🥠🍎🫂

[tarotwithdanise]

Your future best friend's personality

1 - 2 - 3

SOURCE AND CREDITABLE : All of the pictures are collected and downloaded from pinterest , I don’t own any of them but credits goes to the rightful owners however edits goes and the reading itself belong to me. I use the editor tools canva and ibispaint for the header and divider. If saved/downloaded the divider use a proper credits and tag/mention along my acc @tarotwithdanise. Expect grammatical errors with this reading, bear with it because english isn't my mother tongue.

💌 check out my back-up account @danisetarot bio ; click the link, choose your favorite deals that you wanted to purchase and then send all of them to my email account (daniseallure@gmail.com)

Pile one

This is someone who already on their spiritual awakening. They are someone who you can't just tricked and fooled easily, this person makes you think twice of all your actions. They are smart people, if you play trick ways, they will know it immediately without any hesitation because they are mastermind. You will meet this person to any spiritual groups and places. It can be that this is where they work or they're someone who used to teach others. People come at them to ask for their advices, they're great mentor. They like to inspire and be inspired. They might come off as mysterious and secretive individual too. You two will create a strong foundation of friendships. It's not yet the right time to reveal themselves fully to you. But all of i had said was the highlights of them.

Pile two

-this gonna be long compared to previous pile, this person is like an open book.

If I were describe this person, they always look at the bigger picture. Most likely, this is is someone who have vision board or they already have an idea what they want to be in the future. Most likely this person is someone who have a young spirit or probably younger than you. They enjoy and love to try new things, they're adventurous and brave individual. They're quite rare individual and ready for any change that surrounds them, in fact they're risk taker and will enjoy traveling around and across each country - they're adventurous individual. I see that they're talkative individual, someone who likes to share their MU's and crushes to you. They're typically jolly and has an extrovert personality, they like encouraging people. If I am not mistaken this person is probably the one who will try to get you out of your comfort zone. I picking up a strong masculine energy so they maybe a boy? but they can also be a girl that just embodied a masculinity. The cons of their traits is that, they experience unstable mental health and might have a very childish attitude, they probably has a lot of break downs with their past that's why. It's like they see their past self to you, that's why they're trying their best to help you as they can with pure intention.

They might be young but their experiences is level up into the next level that most of their ages doesn't yet uncover. I do also see here that even though they not really a ‘star pupil’ or a ‘straight A's pupil’ their classmates or their co-workers likes them to be their leader ; someone who will guide and lead them into a project or teamwork. Some people feels very irritated towards them because they're very jolly, hyper and friendly, somehow their friendliness can affect you because you only have them while they have many choices but what's more interesting here is that they're longing always for your presence, you maybe way more matured and intelligent when it's comes to logic rather than them so this is one of reason why few people take an advantage to their innocent and kindness. And what else? They prefer and like more to share their problems and secrets to you more rather than to their other friends. Like they typically see you as their only lifetime best friend while the rest of their friends is temporary. You tickled this person heart, you got their full trust. This feels like a friendship between a straight forward and trash talker person with their wild and funny friend.

Pile three

This is someone who maybe from a well-off family, it's either the relationship with their family is okay or in other way, it's broken. This is someone who is same age as yours, they likes traveling whether inside or outside of country. They also likes country music and artists. They are not emotionally stable and may need someone to lean on. It's hard for them to somehow find balance between two choices. This friendship may lead from friends to lovers, if both of you will pursued this connection. They may not be good at decision making but they are kind person and will do everything to share the life they have to their friends and other people. This person might own atleast one pet at their home and probably someone who may like the color of black. They maybe act spoiled and stupid sometimes but they're totally kind, it's just they used to act one. They may have an unpredictable nature and maybe someone who hold a lot of responsibilities even though they can't.

© tarotwithdanise ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost my work in any other social media platforms with or without my explicit permission.

[lorezhaze]

🩸⚔️ Roleplay Partner Search! ⚔️🩸

🌟 Introduction -

Lo | 23 | He/They EST time zone.

Very minimal triggers and limitations

Preferably 21+ writers, only 18+ characters

mxm, nbxm or nbxnb

3rd person literate writing, at least a paragraphs length

Discord only

I love world building and knowing the other character’s feelings. I also love getting to know my rp partners and becoming friends of sorts. I'm also a sucker for creating playlists and Pinterest boards.

NSFW scenes and/or undertones/themes at some point. I do like smut, especially paired with angst and certain dynamics, but if that isn’t your thing and our writing styles are otherwise compatible we can always keep it limited or fade to black. 🤍

CW(!): From here down, my plots or OC’s backgrounds may contain triggering content, I try to remain vague and non-descriptive given these are just outlines!

🌟 Plots I’m willing to explore -

Reese Willow is a fledgling vampire who is sent on a mission by his sire to target and take down an infamous vampire hunter's son, only for the plane Reese was following him on to crash land. After a handful of months, only Reese and the other man are the only survivors remaining, until it's just Reese. For the next 29 years Reese remains stranded, walking along the wilderness in a daily routine like a ghost, until another vampire finally picks up his weak delusional voice amongst the many and seeks him out.

Forbidden love, childhood friends who become estranged because of (Daniel)’s strict parents and eventually moving away to the other side of the country, then when (Daniel) comes back for college under his father's supervision (despite being over 18 now) and the two former friends are completely different from each other now (Daniel) for his public image by default just goes with the other popular wealthy students while the former childhood friend is more down to earth and nerdy and their groups/cliches clash to the point where (Daniel) is sort of a bully this friend as this 'tough guy' front. A short lived (private/behind the scenes, kinda toxic and probably on and off again) ‘situationship’ takes place in that time until the 4 year degree is finished (but Daniel transfers out half a year early) and a handful more years later (Daniel) has settled down in that old town again, slowly starting to get his life together and take responsibility for being a dad now himself but he also cant stop thinking about the childhood friend/lover.

The only son of a wealthy family clashes with their parents every chance he gets, rebels, tries his best to be untraditional and overall just piss them off hires an unconventional sex worker named Emmy an obscene amount of money to come home with him for the weekend and pretend to be his significant other and/or fiance. Feelings develop and it becomes really complicated when his father eventually like offers him an opportunity that is nearly impossible to turn down and he has the choice to either leave them behind with nothing to the life that was nearly killing them or give up his own cushy lifestyle and let love prevail. Alternatively, a older man who thinks he’s straight, has a successful career, empty marriage and multiple kids ends up falling in love with a slightly younger intersex and narcoleptic sex worker, the first and only sex worker he hires.

Post-apocalyptic setting, Celeste the final survivor of a run down camp continues to live among the undead of their loved ones. Another survivor from a nearby camp stumbles upon the ruins of the previous camp while scavenging and sees someone alive on the other side of the fence, living with the dead as if they were dead as well. Day by day they come back, bringing their new things, trying to bring some life back into them again.

Damon is a serial killer that moves around city to city state to state every year to kill another local predator in hopes that one day he'll manage to take down the number of men (whose faces he can't remember) who abused him, using his job as a criminal data analyst to not only cover up his killings but also look for new targets that may have missed the sex offender registry or dodged conviction despite solid proof against them. This time when he moves to a new city and gets settled in he finds that somebody else had already gotten to his potential target, not only that, this didn't seem to be the first killing like this in the area. But this time the perpetrator left a tiny piece of evidence that everyone else but Damon noticed, and instead of turning it in to help solve the case he keeps it to himself with peaked interest.

16th - 19th century setting ✨

Enemies to lovers, a member of the royal family ends up falling for a knight that saves their life, unfortunately, this knight just happens to be the royal’s childhood enemy.   The youngest son of a royal is 7th in line for the throne and has health issues, thus has no chance of inheriting the throne. in attempts to grasp onto any bit of power his father has, the royal marries off his frail and feminine son as a wife to a prince of another territory, an upcoming heir of a throne (loosely inspired by sporus and nero).

The King allowed his son (Lucien) to be abused by his painting instructor growing up, all this rage builds up and explodes when Lucien tries to convict his instructor, but the King instead pardons the boy’s abuser during a set of public trials outside the castle. Lucien, a teenager and young Prince at the time, kills his father in front of everyone, unintentionally becoming King himself from then on. Despite exiling his abuser after the bloody trial, the then Prince, now King is seen as cruel and scary, not to be crossed even nearly ten years later. Meanwhile, a citizen with a sick sister is caught stealing medicine. Being on trial with King Lucien is scary enough, but medicine thieves in particular are known to be punished heavily, since the Princess, who is one of the only people thats kind to the prince-now-king, makes a majority of the medicine available. During a public trial, the thieve’s mother pleads for his life and Lucien realizes that the thief is someone he knew, that he had recognized those fearful eyes from somewhere else. He was amongst the crowd when he killed his own father. He spares the thief, and allows the best doctors to treat his ill sister. As long as he works directly for him in the castle until his debt is repaid. 

It is tradition for the royal family to keep their children within the gates of the castle and away from the public eye until they are grown enough to handle it. The Princess was introduced to society at the age of 13, but every year the reveal of their younger and troubled son (Lucien) his delayed for various vague reasons. Everyone is both eager and suspicious, which doesn’t help matters. This is when the royal parents essentially give up when the boy turns 21, allowing him out with no announcement to the public. While practically frolicking through the flowery fields, enjoying the feeling of the grass and the new sights, he has a love-at-first-sight moment with another boy (your character). This is just an ordinary boy from a hard working family, and since the Prince was never revealed, he has no idea the boy he’s immediately smitten with is the Prince everyone is eagerly awaiting to meet. That is until he finds out, obviously.

(Movie theme) The Hunger Games, two people from opposite teams. Queer themes; gay men, trans person called upon as their assigned gender at birth. Exploring the earlier hunger games (11-50th), escaping and/or faking deaths, etc.

(Movie theme) Ego: Character A gets hurt and temporarily loses their vision. While their wealthy parents look for a medical solution, they have them live in the guest house and hire a caregiver, character B, to stop by everyday and take care of them. Naturally, character a and the caregiver get close, but there’s a big problem: character A is a superficial, seemingly shallow and straight. As a result, character B feels pressured to lie about their identity and what they look like when character A tries to guess what they are like. 

Advanced AI recently developed, now available to the public for purchase in the last 5 years. Man born into generational wealth has no interest in marriage anytime soon despite being good looking, smart and successful. Despite being happy with this life, his house is beyond messy with books haphazardly stacked everywhere and take out containers everywhere. Somebody in his life decides to take it upon themselves to purchase him an android, to which the first time in his life he starts growing feelings for somebody.. something? As if it wasn't confusing enough, did the android have feelings for him as well? (Inspired by Detroit: Become Human)

Stalker falls in love with someone, all falls apart when things go too well and their obsession crosses paths with them and they eventually go out, but break up. stalker is determined to watch over their lover while also keeping others away from them until they “come to their senses” on their own time.

I’m more than willing to hear out any of your plots/ideas as well! ✨

🌟 OCs -

Bios/docs linked to each character, each doc includes a linked Pinterest board, some also include Spotify playlists.

Lucien - Usually aged between 21-23 yrs old, cisgender male (bisexual, switch/sub-leaning). Medieval prince, alternate versions of character for different plots.

Reese Willow - Vampire stranded in the Canadian wilderness for nearly 30 years after a plane crash he ended up inevitably being the sole survivor of.

Emrys - 23 yrs old, cisgender gnc man (doesn't mind any pronouns but still identifies as a man, doesn't take gender too serious, bisexual, switch/sub-leaning). Oldest sibling of a chaotic troubled family, natural caretaker, feminine man with motherly qualities. Works in assistive care.

Deana - 31 yrs old, cisgender man (bicurious, switch/dom-leaning). (Bruce Wayne/Batman inspired) Only child of a wealthy well-known family turned orphan at a young age now upholds his family's public image and business affairs while in private he works as a hitman for hire.

Celeste - 27 yrs old, gender-fluid (Intersex, queer). Final survivor of a run down camp continues to live among the undead of their loved ones.

Emmy - 22 yrs old, nonbinary/intersex (AMAB, all pronouns, queer, switch/sub-leaning. Sex worker, narcoleptic insomniac estranged from wealthy adopted family, taken away from single immigrant mother when they were young.

Daniel Laurie - 26 yrs old, cisgender man (bicurious, dominant yet flexible). Recovering addict and childhood abuse survivor trying to make it back in his home town (after being gone for a handful of years) while longing after his childhood love affair.

Damon - 24 yrs old, cisgender man (bisexual, switch). Crime DNA analyst/serial killer, CSA abuse survivor. Originally written to have a power/ability where he can feel and somewhat influence nearby people's emotions, this in turn leaves his emotions open to others, meaning nearby people can sense his emotions even if they don't know why they're feeling them.

Del  - 23 yrs old, cisgender man (bisexual, switch). Custom outlawed species character called a bloodluster (similar to vampires), after his biological father got captured/taken away his mother fled to another state where she met his 'adoptive' father and shortly after found out she had been pregnant when she left. Not long after he was born, his mother died and a good portion of his life was spent raised being experimented on in a lab. Until one day he found an opening, and ate his mad scientist of an adoptive father. Now he's off in the world, trying to get by as a normal person despite his "condition" without killing anybody.

Lena - 26 years old, nonbinary (AFAB, they/she, bisexual, switch/dom-leaning) Obsessive stalker from a broken family.

Folder of all character bios (some incomplete): [link]

Fandoms/Ships I’m willing to explore: 

(Bolded characters are those I’m willing to write as)

IWTV

- Louis x Lestat

OFMD

- Izzy/Blackbeard

- Izzy/Blackbeard/Stede

- Izzy/Lucius

- Jim/Lucius

HANNIBAL

- Will/Hannibal 

MR ROBOT

- Tyrell/Elliot

Candy Shop AU No 5/9 hacks or fsociety, Tyrell runs a Swedish sweets/candy store that lately Elliot frequently visits for the same fix of cherry hard candies, and to steal glances at the good-looking store clerk. After talking it out in therapy, Elliot’s therapist, Krista, convinces him to be honest about how he feels.

Post-Apocalypse AU After the world goes to shit whatever left of New York that wasn’t completely ruin down by the undead is primarily taken over by a few different groups. When Elliot’s group becomes completely run down with major fatalities, Tyrell’s group (which he happens to lead) decides to lend a hand to an old friend. Little does Tyrell know Elliot was injured in the attack, and little does Elliot know the infection is less straight forward than they anticipated. 

UNTIL DAWN

- Josh/Chris

- Josh/Mike (Post-prank, twins live AU) Josh is the openly gay friend in the group, Mike becomes curious after walking in on Josh hooking up with someone at a party and later can’t get it out of his head.

Other beloved honorable mentions include: Batman (riddlebat, batjokes), Killing Eve, Sally Face, Yellowjackets, The Wilds, Scream (Billy/Stu), Sherlock, Life is Strange (Nathan and Warren) and sometimes Harry Potter (Drarry).

Discord only, please reach out to me if you're interested!

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 19

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

Our first (AND ONLY!) pov switch between Harley and Daryl. It jumps back and forth.

Please enjoy this chapter!

Daryl pushes a stray branch out of his way, ducking under it and carrying on down the beaten path. Homeward and empty handed. After searching tirelessly for Sophia for about three hours and coming up empty, all he wants to do is get back to the farm, eat some leftovers for lunch, and take a damn nap. All this searching business, combined with that no-good bastard Shane. Been one Hell of a time, that's for sure. 'Course, Harley's gonna be askin' him why he didn't find the girl when he gets back. He don't blame her. It's been almost a week since they last seen her. To an adult like him, feels like months. To her, must feel like years. If he could take some of that pain away, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

Seems he'll just have to keep going out every day to search.

Amy, Morales, Jenner. Hell, her own Mother. That poor girl's seen too much death, and he knows it. This time, God, he hopes it's different.

He steps out from the treeline and slowly makes his way up the driveway, rehearsing in his head what he's gonna say to her.

The closer he gets, though, the faster he realizes something seems wrong. He picks up his pace, jogging up to where everyone's gathered around the gate, feverishly arguing over one another. Can't believe, Anywhere by now, are the little snippets he can make out, Leaving right now, Are you ready, Yes. Already, he's trying to pin-point Harley in the crowd, but all he comes up with is a crying boy and a bunch of worried faces.

With dread creeping up behind him even quicker now, Daryl calls out, "Hell is goin' on here? Where's Harley?"

Heads turn in his direction and eyes go wide.

Hand held over her heart, Jacqui gasps, "Oh, God, he's back."

When Rick spots him over Andrea's shoulder, he nudges her to the side and marches straight over to him.

"Daryl." He's never seen him this frenzied before. "Daryl, we got a problem."

Worry-wart Dale's hot on his heels, adding, "It's Harley."

"He took her." Lori cries. "Shane, he took her!"

"They're gone!"

He comes to a stop in front of Rick.

"What?"

All at once, red-hot anger. Red-hot anger burning everywhere.

"He left five minutes ago." Rick's focus is sharp and deadly, a knifepoint. "Listen, we're goin' after him and we're doin' it now. You comin'?"

Daryl knew Shane had some crazy thoughts, but this is beyond that. He honestly wishes he could say this is a shock, but it ain't.

"Gimme that gun." He seethingly demands. He snatches a rifle off Dale and checks the chamber as the rest of the group come to surround him. It's already full. By the looks on everyone's faces, they're not planning on talking things out this time. "Which way?"

"We reckon he's gonna skip town." Rick explains, motioning with his gun. "He knows that's the first place we'll search, and he's smarter than that. And he's got provisions, so he won't be in need of a shoppin' trip anytime soon. So, I'm thinkin' he'll be headed for Fort Benning."

"He's had his heart set on that place for a long time." Glenn nods in agreement. "It's as good a guess as any."

"Guessing's all we got. Which car you takin'?"

More rifles are handed out like hot cakes.

"Maggie's offered hers. Fastest one we got."

"Who else?"

"Glenn, T-Dog, and Andrea."

"I'll take my truck." The chamber bolt clicks back into place as everybody splits up. "Let's go chase this slimy sum'bitch down, then."

"I'll take shotgun." Rick nods, storming toward the truck alongside him. "He's really done it this time, hasn't he?"

He barks, "How the Hell did he get away?"

"It was the barn. We found Sophia." He doesn't even have the chance to ask the most important question there is, 'cause Rick answers for him. "Dead." His stomach sinks at that. That's a loss he'll have to feel later. He can't afford to think about anything but his own little girl right now. "Bitten. God, I had to shoot her. We all had our heads turned at the right moment, and next thing we know, Shane's already up the hill with her. We tried to stop him. Hell, I even shot the car up."

Daryl sends him a barbed glare. "You ain't—?"

"No. I made sure." He shakes his head, expression severe. "I saw her in the window at the last minute. She wasn't hit. Just the back window."

He takes a sigh of relief. A small victory. They're gonna need a lot of those today.

As they reach their camp, Daryl snatches up a spare box of bullets, sarcastically ribbing, "Would'a been nice of you to hit the tyres, Grimes."

He tosses the ammo to Rick, who catches and stashes it in his pants-line.

"Yeah, very funny. He was drivin' that thing outta here like a drunken maniac. Not even The Terminator could'a hit those things."

"Just sayin'," He lilts as he grabs the keys from his bag and rounds the truck. "Bein' a city cop an' all."

"Shut up, Daryl. You wanna go kill this bastard, or what?"

"With pleasure."

They both climb into their seats and slam the doors shut. Before Rick even has time to get his seatbelt on properly, Daryl's got the engine on and is swerving out the small clearing, tearing up the grass as he goes. They make the speedy, bumpy drive back to the main gate, where T-Dog and Glenn, with Andrea at the wheel, are idling on the driveway in Maggie's green Subaru.

He pulls up next to them, window rolled all the way down.

"Y'all ready?" He calls out over the sound of the truck bumbling.

"We're followin' you, got a full tank of gas." Andrea nods. "Just lead the way."

"Be careful." Carl pouts worriedly from nearby, wrapped up in his Momma's arms. Then, shyly, "Bring her back, please."

The engine revs under Daryl's foot as Rick promises, "We're not comin' back 'till we do."

"And Shane..." He hesitates for a moment. A hardened look replaces what had once been a soft little boy. "Do what you have to do."

Do what you have to do.

Without another word exchanged, they set off down the drive, a posse of anger honed on a single target.

This is not how Daryl was expecting his afternoon to start, but he sure as Hell knows how it's gonna end.

Only once they hit the highway does the rage melt away into pure, sickening anxiety.

Welcome to Talbot County, says the weathered sign on the side of the road.

As I'm readin' those big, bold letters, the car comes to a crawl. Shane steers it into the emergency lane, muttering to himself about gas. He said about two hours ago we'd run out at some point today. Guess he was right. I lift my head from where I been resting it against the door and peek out the window. Yellow fields and impossibly tall pine trees surround us on both sides, bordered by two wonky, rickety fences.

I don't recognise any of it, but I've gotten used to that feeling by now. I've had more than enough time to.

Shane sends me a half-smile from the driver's seat. "Looks like we're walking from here, kiddo. Grab yer things." 

Walking. Hopefully that'll make us easier to find.

But knowin' Shane, he'll take us through the woods and it'll only make it ten times harder.

After putting my bag on and hopping out, I meander over to the nearby gravel outcrop while Shane organises the rest of the supplies. Feels nice being up high. I can pretend I'm a mountain explorer. In the distance, two black dots are weaving their way through the wheat. Walkers.

I hear the car door slam shut, and then Shane stepping up to my side with a thin sigh, clutching the straps of his pack.

"Whole lotta country out there." He muses thoughtfully. Then, quieter, "Whole lotta places to get lost."

I fix the horizon with a look, muttering, "Like Fort Benning." 

He turns to me, confused as to how I knew to mention that.

"I saw it circled on the map." I deadpan. "And I know we're headed West, 'cause the sun's on that side. 'Sides... We all know it's been yer dream."

I never understood the fuss around Fort Benning. S'prolly just another empty building filled with dead people and old promises.

But Shane seems to like it.

He looks amused. "Observant thing, ain't you?"

"Comes in handy." I shrug, scuffing the ground.

My boots. Yellow with ladybug print. Makes me miss Glenn. The scrape on my knee from playing at the pond. The soup stain on my sleeve. Carl's purple marker streaked on my hand. Amy's hair lackey... Little signs. I miss everyone. Dad most of all, but also everyone. I wish I had some type of plan, but I don't. I'm only eight. No matter how many times I glance at the map, it still won't get me home.

Shane takes in the relaxing view, his brow free of wrinkles, his shoulders free of tension. He seems happy, I think. At least, happier.

When those two little walkers start to gradually gain numbers, Shane grumbles, Horde's catchin' up again, and decides it's time for us to get a move on. I say goodbye to this little moment, and to the car, and follow after him just as I thought, over the fence and into the trees.

"Alright, comin' up on 86 soon. We bear left when we reach it."

"You're sure this is the route he's taking? 'Cause if it ain't, I'm killin' you next."

"I'm sure. Trust me, this is the one he talked about the most. He'll take this one."

Daryl guesses all them nights spent planning road-trips with Shane was worth it, then, if Rick is right about this. He better be. They been following this route for almost half an hour now. If only cars left footprints like turkeys and squirrels did, then maybe he'd feel a little better.

When Rick looks over and sees Daryl's knuckles going white around the wheel, he reassures him, "We're gonna find her, Daryl."

He shakes his head. "I should'a seen it comin', man. I know men like Shane. I been to prison for killin' men like Shane."

The beating, the shooting, the stabbing, he could take; he could live with. He knows how to live with scars. But this? Taking another man's child? That's a line Daryl knows all too well that some men are willing to cross. But he killed the last one, and he'll kill this one, too.

"Maggie told me about that." Rick says, not a trace of judgement in his tone. "Last night. Said Harley told her, thought I might wanna know."

"What, in case you decided you wanted a two-for-one deal?"

"You gotta understand what a story like that must sound like to outsiders. She was concerned after what you did to Shane."

"Yeah, well, she's about to get a whole lot more concerned. I'm gonna let you know right now, man, I ain't sorry for it."

"Which part?"

"Everything. I've never killed or hurt a man that ain't deserve it. Shane... Well, I guess he ain't any different. Shot me, and I deserved it."

"Well, I'm not askin' you to be sorry. Nobody is, nobody will. We've all done what we had to survive, even before the world ended."

He jokes, "You ain't gonna throw me in a cell once this is over, are ya, Deputy?"

A bitter laugh. "No, I will not."

An intersection splits the road ahead.

A small patch of it seems to glitter in the sunlight.

Daryl murmurs, pulling in close, "What's that?"

"The glass." When they stop beside it, Daryl opens his door and peers down. He's right. Shattered glass. Right route, then. "I wouldn't wanna be drivin' around with all that, either, especially not with a kid in the back. I'm guessin' he cleaned it out. Anyway, there's 86. Hang a left."

"Wait a second." Not only glass, but also tyre marks, arching in a curve to the right. He points to them. "Look. He went right."

Rick follows his finger, perplexed, before checking the map again. "Right? Why right?"

God damn it. "He's tryna throw us off."

"Shit, he's sneaky."

"Yeah, no shit." He says dryly. "This makes things harder."

Daryl closes the door and raps the side of the truck to get Andrea's attention, then motions right. She nods and tails him when he turns.

It takes five long hours of getting lost in the hills before they find any sign of Shane and Harley. Rick's car, abandoned on the side of the road. Daryl almost breaks a window when they realize they're not here. Lit by the setting sun are the words, Welcome to Talbot Country.

We travel for hours and hours until the forest goes dark. When Shane notices I'm startin' to get a little nervous, he offers to hold my hand and I take it without hesitation, 'cause this way I can pretend it's just another hike with Dad. I keep asking when we're gonna stop and make camp, but his answer is always, not yet, even after the moon slides directly over our heads and I can hardly keep my eyes open anymore.

It's only once I'm so sleepy I trip over a twig that he apologizes for waiting so long and agrees to stop for the night.

He finds us a rocky overhang we can rest under, hidden between the trees. He rolls out his sleeping bag for me on the hard ground.

"Didn't have time to get yours." He murmurs, regretful. "I'll just use my pack as a pillow tonight. Can't imagine I'll sleep much, anyway."

As I settle on top of it, hugging my knees, he pulls two cans of beans and some bottled water from his pack.

Quietly, I prompt, "Shane?"

"Yeah?" Peeling the lid back, he hands one of the cans to me. Then some water, too. "Here ya go."

"Do you think what Herschel said last night is true?"

He tilts his head. "What? About bein' sick?"

"Yeah. Not the walkers, but the people. That they can get better. That we can re-billah-tate 'em."

Dad says dead means dead, and sick means sick. He says there was never gonna be a good endin' for Momma, but I saw Shane's smile today. Something about finally being free from the group has made him seem more like his old self again, combined with having me, maybe.

I think he can tell quite easily what I'm trying to get at. "I think it's true." He says. "Startin' over. That's all we need."

That's all he needs.

I can't watch this happen again. I just can't. Torn up inside, I blurt, "But they're gonna kill ya, Shane. You know they are."

"They can try." He shakes his head, scooping a spoonful of beans into his mouth, chewing. "I'll protect us. I've done it before."

I almost wish it could've gone some other way. None of us are innocent in this, but none of us are entirely guilty, neither. We're just a bunch of people caught up in somethin' that's too big for any of us to understand, and like always, it's gonna end the only way it can, with death.

Shane knows perfectly well that I'm right. It's like he said, he ain't an idiot. He's just a hopeful, doomed idiot.

"Whatever's left, Harley, I want it. It ain't in my nature to just roll over. So, we're gonna keep goin'. Freedom's worth that." He takes a deep, steadying sigh and gestures to my untouched food. "Eat that up, now. We got a long journey ahead of us, and you'll need the energy."

That night, I have that same nightmare again, the one where Shane dies at the end.

We set off again in the early morning, so early in fact I can't even tell it is morning. The sky's black, the forest on the verge of waking up. As we make our way through the rolling lengths of rural country, Shane teaches me how to load a gun, using his. It's a little like mine and Dad's game of poisonous or edible, except it's a little more advanced. I've never learnt to shoot before. Dad always said I weren't ready.

"Magazine goes up through here." He tells me, smacking it into the grip. "You hear it click. That's how you know it's nice and snug in there." I nod along with him, paying close attention. "Then to get the bullet in the chamber, you yank back on this. That's called the slide."

"Merle used to tug on some handle to get the bullets in the chamber."

"That would'a been a bolt action rifle he had. This one, though, it's more simple." He unloads the clip and hands the pieces to me. "You try."

"Woah," I gasp as I take them. "It's heavy."

He chuckles. "Yeah, that's what everyone says when they first get their hands on a firearm. They make it look easier in the movies, don't they?"

"Nah, you make it look easier." Slot the magazine into the grip, grab the slide, yank back. "Like that?"

"Perfect. Now unloading, you just press that lil' button, there. It'll fall right out, be ready to catch it."

I press it, and the magazine drops into my waiting palm. "There."

"Well done." He smiles. "Remember, always aim for the head. When it gets brighter out, maybe we can try shootin' some targets."

The sky is back to jewel-blue by the time we run into more walkers. Just like before, it seems like they know where they're going.

"What're they doin?" I ponder under my breath, watching 'em stumble single-file across a grassy ridge in the distance.

"Might be some type of migration." Shane guesses. "There's definitely enough of 'em out here for that."

"What's migration?"

"It's when animals travel in a group together to get someplace warmer, or colder. Probably someplace with more food, in these guys' case."

"You think they're headin' toward town?"

"Well, they're comin' from the direction of the highway, so I'm guessin' so. Some Hell-good senses of smell they must have, then."

"Or memories."

"You wanna have a go hitting one of 'em?"

I sure do. "From here?"

"Nah, we'll sneak up a bit. Too hard from this distance. Up there, it'll be easy."

Keeping out of sight, we creep up the incline until we make it to the peak, ducking down in the grass together.

"Okay, safety's off. It's loaded." Shane whispers, passing me the gun. My heart beats like a wild animal as he manoeuvres my fingers around the grip. "You're gonna hold it like this. Firm. Confident. You're the one in control, here." All the times I've killed a walker, they've had the jump on me. Not this time. He reminds me to load a bullet into the chamber, and I pull back on the slide again, getting more familiar with the movement. "Good girl. Now line your eye up with the sight, just like that." I squint down the barrel of the gun. "Breathe." In and out, slowly. "And squeeze."

Always aim for the head.

I place the little head of the closest walker on the tip of the sights. In and out. When I'm ready, I squeeze the trigger.

The bullet flies out with a bang, but it lands somewhere in the trees.

Shane encourages, "That's alright. Try again."

I can do this. Line it up, nice and careful. In and out. Squeeze.

This second bullet lodges itself into the walker's skull. It flinches before simply dropping to the ground like somebody pressed its off button.

The others happily continue on without it.

Lowering the gun, I turn to Shane with a giant grin on my face. "I did it."

"Told you it'd be easy." He looks proud of me. "Try hittin' the next one."

"It's so much farther. Can I even hit it?"

"I believe in you."

This time without any guidance, I line up the next target best I can. Squeeze. It hits the walker's ribs. Damn. I take my time and try again. After two more shots that don't quite hit their mark, the fourth bullet finally nicks it on the side of the head and it, too, falls to the ground.

"Good work." Shane gestures for the gun, and I pass it to him. "I'll get the rest of 'em."

He aims at the group with expert precision. Three exact shots, and they all go down. One day, I'm gonna be as good a shot as he is.

He nudges me, standing. "Come on. Some reason, seems like this way's clear now."

Giggling, I follow him into the open and through the littering of bodies, the thrill of two walker kills coursing hotly through my veins.

"Just fold your thumb over like this and blow. It's easy."

Shane holds his hands up to his mouth and tries blowing air through the gap between his thumbs, but all that comes out is a tortured screech that sounds like a dying elephant, and I giggle hysterically. It's meant to sound like a bird call. He taught me to shoot, so I'm teaching him this.

Instead of attracting the little woodland birds perched above us in the trees, they all go flying off in the opposite direction.

He jokes, "That's supposed to be easy?"

"Welp, I guess ya can't be good at everything."

Instead of making a retort, he just rolls his eyes.

Daryl has never been this tired in his life. He's worked many long hours in mechanic shops, stayed up a lotta nights, and raised a child all on his own for five years, and yet, as he drives along the highway without a wink of sleep, he can safely say he has never been this tired in his life.

When Rick offers to take over for a while, he promises himself he won't fall asleep. Despite his best efforts, he does.

When he wakes up, they're still driving. He insists he get back behind the wheel, and Rick, being a man with self-preservation, lets him.

They're planning on cutting Shane off. They're on foot now, sure, but the destination's still the same.

They're gonna have to cut back onto the highway at some point. It'll be somewhere near Oakley, two hours out. They did the math.

They'll be ready.

At the hottest point of the day, we stumble across the highway again. With sweat dripping down our backs, we squint against the mean glare of the sun. Up ahead, there's an old gas station. Shane thinks we might be able to find a working car there, which seems to excite him, but only worries me. After making sure there's nobody else along this stretch of road, he nods us forward and we cross into the parking lot.

"We shouldn't linger." He says, looking around at all the abandoned cars. "We need to get back on the road soon as possible."

I try my best to sound nonchalant when I say, "We been doin' okay just walkin'. Maybe we don't need a car."

He throws me an unimpressed look over his shoulder. "Harley, I thought we already talked about this."

We did, but I don't want another car. I don't wanna put any more miles between us and the group than we already have.

"I know, but... I like the fresh air."

"Don't gimme any of that." He lilts, as if a playful tone will change my mind. "I thought we were havin' fun, huh?"

Not anymore. I guess I got caught up in pretending that everything was okay, that we were safe and I was happy, but we aren't and I ain't, and I got people who I gotta get back to. I got a life I gotta live. But Shane, I don't think he accepts that. He wants a reality where he isn't alone.

"L—Let's just keep walkin'." I reach out and grab the bottom of his shirt. When he stops and turns to look at me, I add, "Please?"

"Look at that sign over there." He points to the road. Oakley, it says. "Fort Benning Military Base, forty miles West from here. Now, I don't know about you, Harley, but I'm gonna tell you something. I hate liars. I hate 'em. We got somethin' good, here. Don't let me find out you're a liar."

Suddenly, I wish I'd never opened my mouth. "I ain't lyin', Shane, I swear." I'm just not tellin' the whole truth. "I wanna walk."

"Yeah, I bet you do." He crouches in front of me, painfully close, eye level with me. "And you think I don't know why, huh?"

"W—? What is it with you?" I cry, then, giving up on taking the subtle route. "Why don't you get it, huh?"

"Get what?"

"It's ruined!" If slapping sense into people ever worked, I'd do it right now. "You ruined everything, already. We got nothin'!"

This is what I tried telling him last night. Even if sick people can get better, and even if he's happier out here, this was over before it started.

"Hell you mean, we got nothing? We're free, Harley. Everything's over. We have everything. We got the whole world."

"No." I argue desperately. "We don't. You just think we do."

"Don't say that to me. This is the first time in my life where I'm certain about what I'm doin'. I got a lot to regret, but not this."

"Rick was aiming for you yesterday, Shane. And Dad, he already tried to kill you. I've wanted to kill you. M— Maybe a long time ago, this could'a worked, but y—you— you ruined everything. S'gone, already. We ain't doin' nothin' here but— but waitin' it out. You're gonna die, Shane." I shout as I give him a hard shove on the shoulders. "Just like Amy and Morales and— and Sophia. Just like my Momma, you're gonna die."

"No." He grabs my arms. "No, it's different this time. We deserve for things to go differently."

"Don't matter what we deserve. We didn't deserve for Sophia to die, and look what happened."

He argues, "She wasn't a fighter like we are, Harley,"

"She was my friend."

"She was weak."

"How can you say that? She was only twelve!"

"Rick's pushin' thirty five and he's still losin' sense like it's his job. Age means nothing. All of 'em, Harley. They're weak."

"I don't care. I'd rather be weak. I'd rather be dead than be with you."

His frown darkens. "You don't mean that."

I've never meant anythin' more in my life.

"I'm not gettin' in that car, Shane." A threat. "I'm not. You're gonna have to throw me in again if you wanna leave this place with me."

Angry, heavy breathing, and then a petty, "Guess I'll have to."

As he stands and leaves to continue searching the cars without me, I plop onto the tarmac like a heavy anchor and cross my arms over my chest. I'm good at being stubborn. When I was littler, Merle used to say he'd seen mules with less attitude than me. If he ever saw me pulling a stunt like this, he'd whip me black and blue. But it's like Shane said, he's never and will never lay his hands on me. He'll sure do everythin' else, though.

I watch him take off his dog tag and loop it around the rear-view mirror of the last car he checks. That must be the one we're taking, then. After doing that and throwing his pack in the truck bed, he faces me with a reluctant, patient look on his face, but I don't budge.

"Told ya I ain't a liar, Shane." I call out to him. "I mean it. You're gonna have to throw me in."

"Yeah," He mutters wearily, rubbing a hand down his face. "I believe ya."

"Ya gonna do it, then?"

He drops his hand. "Y'know what? I'm gonna go stock up on some things inside. I'd say don't move, but... You got that covered."

I spend a while just staring at the sky, being stubborn. But after a certain point, my curiosity wins over. I decide to go check up on him, to see what he's doing. I make my way through the cars, up the steps, and jump a little at the little ding-a-ling that comes when I open the door. Stepping inside, I spot him straight away by the registers, distracted by something he's turning over in his hands.

As I approach him, I wonder, "Whatchu doin' in here?"

He looks up at me. Instead of answering, he holds the thing out to me. It dangles, small and silver. A locket. 'Bout the size of a coin. Confused, I take it and bring it close to my face, running my thumb over the little bird engraved on it, the metal leaves, the branch. I find myself smiling.

"A brown thrasher." I muse quietly. Georgia's state bird. "Native American mythology says they're like guardian angels."

He smiles, too. "Yeah, I thought you might know what it was. He's yours, then."

I ask, "Help me put it on?"

"Sure, sweetheart. Turn around."

He takes the locket from me and I do as he says, sweeping my ponytail out the way.

"It would be nice if you had somethin' to put in it." He hums as he clasps it around my neck. "There."

"You know what, I got the perfect thing already." I wiggle my backpack off and set it on the ground, digging through everything until I find what I'm looking for. I grab Dad's wallet and flip it open, holding up the photos for Shane see. "Look. 'Bout the right size, too."

"Well," He chuckles. "I guess that works out, then."

Pulling out the last photo, the one of Momma smiling, I very carefully tear a small oval shape around her upper body.

Watching on, he gently asks, "Who's that?"

"My Momma." I toss the scraps aside and slot the important part into the locket. "I promised Dad I'd look after her. She'll be safe in here."

He sighs, then. "Listen, Harley."

Admiring her through the little window as I stand, I chirp, "Yeah?"

Whatever words he's got on the tip of his tongue, he struggles to get out. His gaze darts to the locket, to my waiting expression, back to the locket again, the little bird perched on the glossy surface. He was right about today. I suppose we did have fun, shooting walkers, practicing bird calls with laughter in our lungs.

He finally opens his mouth. "Harley, I—"

He happens to glance outside, then, the words stolen out from underneath him. The color drains from his face.

I'm about to ask him what's wrong, but when I turn around, the sight of two cars swerving into the parking lot is the very last thing I see before a deafening BANG rocks the earth. The entire front window shatters to pieces. Shane grabs me, throws us both to the floor. The glass rains down across the store like sparkling, white ash. Oh, God. They're here, aren't they? That was Maggie's car, Dad's truck. This is it. It's happening. My heart lodged in my throat, I peek over him. In the wall we were just standing in front of, a bullet hole, black and smoking.

"Shane!"

A hair-raising roar. Dad. That's Dad.

"We're here for ya, buddy!"

I turn to Shane. He's white as a ghost, lips parted.

The car doors slam shut one by one, heavy footsteps slowly spreading out across the tarmac.

"What are you gonna do?" I frantically whisper, my fingers tightening around his arms. "What are you gonna do?"

He's so caught off guard that he can't even answer me. He unholsters his pistol, holding it at his side.

"We've already seen you, Shane!" Rick. "We know you're in there. Pack's out here, too. This the car you're plannin' on taking?" He tries to get a look over the lip of the window but jumps back down as another bullet pierces the back wall. Damn it, Rick's fast. I wanna ask who else is out there, what's going on, what they're doing, but there's no way for him to know. "This is it, Shane. No way out, now."

He seems to force himself to regain composure. "You come to kill me, brother?"

"I've come for Harley. Whether you force my hand or not, that's your choice. Just know it's four against one. A risk I wouldn't take."

Four. Who else? Glenn? Someone else don't deserve shooting?

"Please, Shane," I whimper as he switches the safety off. "Please. You can't. Don't shoot nobody. Just— Just tell 'em you'll come out."

He completely ignores me, taunting, "What about you, Daryl? You out there? Today's the day, huh?"

"Today's the day." Dad parrots from someplace nearby. "Come out."

"You know I can't do that. You know Harley can't, either. I won't allow it."

"Guess we'll see what you allow once I got your brains splattered across the floor. I want my daughter back, Shane!"

"This can still end well for you." Rick butts in, his tone lighter, now. It's the tone you might use to lure an animal in close before you grab it, twist it, snap its neck. I see his shadow stalking over the tiles, pressing up against a car for cover, stretched out by the high-noon sun. He motions for someone to move around the building. I think they're surrounding us while he distracts him. I think time is running out faster than we ever thought it might. "You're headed to Fort Benning, right? Yeah, they got good walls there. Food, water, vehicles, protection. Only forty miles from here. It's a solid plan."

His head's bein' messed with again. "Thought you always said it was a lost cause, Rick?"

"Maybe for us." Rick hums. "Big group, runnin' low on gas, a hundred miles back. But not for you."

Shane humors him a moment, buying himself some time. I don't think he has a plan. "No?"

"Your car's out here." Rick beckons. "Supplies, gas. And you sure as Hell got my permission to leave. I meant it. If there's one face I never wanna see again, it's yours. You're free to go. Hell, Fort Benning's practically just around the block. You made it quite far, huh? Well, it's all yours. But not if it's with Harley. Not if you fight. Let her go. Do that and maybe you can make it on your own. Maybe I won't have to shoot you."

"I know you never thought much of me, Rick, but you really expect me to believe that bullshit?"

More shadows creep past the windows.

"I expect you to understand that this has gone too far. You need to come out, now."

He doesn't answer. In a desperate break for freedom, he grabs my hand, hauls me to my feet, and we shoot out from our hiding place. We make it not halfway across the store before another bullet is fired. I shriek as it hits a shelf this time, forcing us both back down into cover.

His chest heaving, he peers around the shelf, keeping his gun at the ready in his sweaty grasp.

Two more bullets skim past his head.

"Shane," When he meets my gaze, I see fear there, for the first time, ever. We both know this has to end. We're pinned in here. Whatever this is, he has to let it go so he can live. "What if he's not lying? What if you can still make it out?"

"I'm not leaving without you." He shakes his head in refusal. "I'm not livin' if it's not with you."

"Shut up. You don't need me. But me, I-I— I need my Dad. I need to go back."

"Harley—"

"Please. I can't watch you die." He glances at the locket, my dead Momma. "Listen to him. I can't watch anyone else die."

"I know you, Shane. You get to Fort Benning, and then what? What's the plan for after? For the things you gotta live with? How you gonna sleep at night, knowin' the girl ya got callin' you Daddy belongs to someone else, huh? What kind of life is that? For you, for her? She's not yours, Shane. Never was. You and I both know that. She knows that. If you care any little bit about her, you'll let her go. You'll let this whole thing go."

There's a way that this can end well. I need it to end well. "Please. Just listen to him, Shane."

"All of us. All of us can walk away from this. Harley will come back with us, and she'll have more people than she could ever have out here watchin' over her. Carl will have his friend. She'll get to say a proper goodbye to Sophia. She'll get to grow up with a father."

"Some fathers ain't worth growin' up around, Rick. You must understand that more than any of us."

"I do. That's why I know, when I look at Daryl, I see a worthy man. He knows he's done wrong. Not many of us can be so brave to realize that."

"You say brave, I say pathetic." He spits. "I say I've gone and done the world a favor, taking Harley from him."

"Well, we don't see it that way. No judge, no jury, would see it that way, either. You know how this would've gone in the old world, Shane."

"World ain't so old, now. There's a new order to things."

"An order where a man can take another man's child, just 'cause he wants to?"

"Oh, spare me the philosophy lesson, Rick. You don't know the first thing about any of this. I know you don't. Look at Lori and Carl."

"This isn't about them right now."

"You got a broken woman. You got a weak boy. Thing is, you're too stupid to see. That thing you got back there, it won't work. Everything ends, man. You gotta fight for what you want. This— Harley, Fort Benning." It ain't in my nature to roll over. "This is what I'm fightin' for." 

"You're fighting for something that doesn't exist. Fight for something real." He offers. "Fight for your life while you still have it."

"Now, why would I do that?"

"Because of everything we've done to get here. The quarry, the CDC, Amy, Morales, Sophia. You draw your gun, it'll all have been for nothing."

"Maybe I don't care so much about that anymore."

"Well, you care about Harley. That's about the only thing we can all agree on. That's why you're out here. That's why this has to end."

I can see Shane wrestling with himself, with how to end this, his heart torn between two different things. Living for himself or dying for me. I love you so much it's gonna kill me. Is he gonna draw? Is he gonna surrender? Will he get to live, or will he die just like everyone else?

God, I hope Rick isn't lying. 

"I don't wanna shoot you." Shane warns. "That's not how I want this to go."

"It's the way it's gonna have to be if you don't come out right now."

I hear the back door being kicked down. Thud, thud, thud. My heart races, flooded with terror. He has to make a decision right now.

"Rick said he'll miss you, y'know." I quickly tell him, my eyes filling with tears. My words seem to pain him. "Said it just this morning."

Thud, thud, thud.

"Please, Shane, believe him. You can make it. Fort Benning's so close. It's always been your dream, remember?"

Thud, thud, thud.

"And— And I won't be there, but that's okay. I'll be somewhere else. I'll think of you. 'Cause— 'Cause I'll miss you, too."

Thud, thud, thud.

I shake the confusing thoughts from my head. "Or— Or my memories of you."

Thud, thud, thud.

"Don't matter. I still hate you for what you done, b-but not enough to want you dead. You gotta go. Please, Shane, you gotta live."

"What is it, then?" Rick calls out. "You gonna stay in there, get shot down like a dog? Or you gonna do the right thing? Give us Harley?"

I want what's best for you, he once told me. I won't ever do anythin' to put you in danger. Remember that. All this time, he kept that promise. I might'a been scared, and I might'a not agreed with some of the things he's done, but I have never, ever been in danger because of him. He helped save me from the highway when it got overrun. He searched for me just as tirelessly as Dad did when I got lost. He pulled that walker offa me, saved me from getting bit. He held my hand when it got dark, and he lent me his sleeping bag, and he gave me the prettiest locket I ever saw just because it had a bird on it I might like. Even right down to shooting my Dad, he was doing what he thought was best for me. 

I need my Dad. He knows I do. He held me when I cried that night, when I thought he was gonna die.

He knows Rick's right.

I can tell what he's chosen.

"Come out, Shane! It's time!"

This is it. He sends me one last smile. Relief overwhelms me. He's surrendering. He's gonna live. It might not be exactly what he wanted or what he planned, but he tried and I think he's okay with that now. He got his last wish. He spent whatever time he had left with me.

"Alright, Rick!" He shouts, "I'm gonna stand up, now. I won't shoot if you won't!"

Holding his hands out to his sides, he slowly stands, making no sudden movements. When he steps out into the open, the sun beams down on his face through the broken window, his body exposed to whatever mercy his brother has left. He opens his mouth to say something.

No words ever come out. Time seems to fracture around me as he flinches backwards, as if punched in the ribs.

His gun goes off from the impact.

A spike of blood, shooting out from behind him.

A scream ripped from my throat.

"No!"

The door finally breaks down. Shane staggers backwards into to the display shelves, a trembling hand clutched over his bleeding chest, coughing weakly like an animal that weren't put down right. I rush to go grab him, help him, anything, but Rick rushes through the front doors, and as soon as I'm on my feet, I'm trapped again when he grabs me. I fight against him, but then Andrea's here too, holding me tight.

Dad comes forward and swings a fist down onto Shane's cheek. His crippled body whips to the side, toppling over onto the ground.

No. No, no, no! He was surrendering! We all saw it, it was over!

I screech, "What're you doing?!"

Blood spurts from his mouth as Dad kicks him in the stomach, hard, over and over again, until he's shoved up against the wall, struggling to breathe. He tries to pull his gun on him, but Dad snatches it from his fingers and throws it across the room, grabbing his shirt collar.

I can't even hear my own cries, anymore. A terrible, piercing ringing noise has replaced my head. It's all I can hear. As Dad stomps and beats and agonizes Shane into a pulp, taking out months' worth of anger on his muscles and bone, Glenn and T-Dog make a sweep of the rest of the store, and my ear keeps on ringing, and the blood keeps spreading, and I keep on crying.

When Rick passes me fully over to Andrea and starts taking off his outer layer of clothing, his button shirt, I'm confused. He rips it off and balls it up tightly and crouches, pressing it against the side of my head.

Can you hear me, I think he's saying.

No. No, I can't hear him.

Why can't I hear him? Why is the ringing gettin' louder?

Glenn, get over here, I think he's saying, now, his brow set low, tight, worried. Get over here.

He quickly comes into view. Oh, it's so good to see his face again.

As Rick pulls back the bunched-up shirt, which comes away bloody, his eyes go wide. He places it back over my ear again.

It's my ear. Something's wrong with my ear.

Over their shoulders, Shane's still on the floor, still bleeding, but he's not moving, anymore.

It's so awful, but I think he's dead.

Shot then pummelled until his body gave out.

Dad gives him one last kick, this time to the head, before turning to join the rest of everyone else, shaking out his bloodied knuckles. T-Dog falls in as well, glancing uncomfortably at Shane's body. As soon as they're within arm's reach, Dad picks me up off the floor, setting me on his hip, speaking to me mutedly and peeling back Rick's shirt. My ear's burning, now, hot as lava, like I've fallen head-first onto a sizzling stove-top.

I lift my hand to touch it, but all I feel is blood and hair, but no ear. My ear, it's always been right here. Where'd it go?

Dad takes me outside and sets me on the hood of the first car he sees, holding my face in his hands.

As my hearing starts to come back, I can pick up on what they're all saying.

"—Alk to me, baby. Can you say somethin' to me?"

"Damn it," Glenn gawks, "He shot it clean off."

God, it stings so bad.

"You killed him." I manage to croak, the horrifying realization sinking in that Shane really is dead. "Both of you. Y-You killed him."

He was supposed to make it to Fort Benning. He was supposed to live. It was supposed to end well this time.

"I know." Dad croons, "But don't think about that right now. Think about yer head. Are you dizzy?"

"You killed him."

"She might be in shock." Rick suggests, taking a bottle of water from Andrea when she comes running up to us, offering it to him. He unscrews it and pours it over the left side of my head, apologizing when I cringe at the pain. He frowns. "Yeah, there's nothin' much left there."

"When'd it happen?" T-Dog distresses, keeping his distance. He's never been good with blood.

"He must've pulled the trigger when I hit him." He answers sourly. "Grazed her head."

Andrea scoffs. "Even in death, he's still a giant, fucking asshole."

Patting around my hair again, I feel it, now.

My ear. Shane shot my ear off.

The top half of it, it's gone.

"Well, it's a nasty souvenir, alright." T-Dog utters. "Won't be forgettin' this day anytime soon..."

It's a final, permanent reminder that I was stupid to think things could've gone any other way.

I will never make that mistake again.

At the sound of growling in the distance, we all turn our heads. Walkers, much, much more than usual, approach us through the trees.

"We gotta get her to Herschel." Dad grunts as he hauls me onto his hip again. "Let's get outta here."

Glenn winces. "You think that's the horde, again?"

"You wanna stick around and find out?"

I whimper, "Dad it hurts."

Not just my ear, but everything. 

"I know, baby." He soothes, tucking the shirt back against me. I put my hand over it. "Just hang on a little longer. I gotcha."

As we head over to the cars, I look behind at the gas station, the broken window, and the battered body tucked away in the corner, laying in a puddle of tarry blood. I turn away from the grisly sight, glancing down at my locket. A brown thrasher. 

"You wanna take that truck he had?" Rick offers, gesturing to it. The pack's still in the trunk, ready to go. "Waste of a good vehicle, otherwise."

Dad agrees, "Yeah, sure. You take my truck. Keys are on the seat."

With a nod, Rick walks off with the others.

He opens the driver's door and places me carefully onto the middle seat before climbing in next to me. I've only been away from the farm for two days and one night, and yet I feel like I'm returning from war. He slams the door shut and steals the keys off the dash. I pull Rick's shirt down. Blood. I'm so tired of seeing blood. As the engine rumbles to life, Dad takes the shirt from my lap, slings his arm over my shoulders, and secures it snugly against my ear — stub, now, I suppose — with his hand. With the other, he pulls out the parking lot, onto the highway.

This has all been a blur. The barn, being taken, making it to the hills, the gas station, the gunshot, the blood, Shane.

I rest my wet cheek against Dad's side. As the hills roll by, I gaze up at the dog tag dangling from the mirror.

When he notices the name engraved on it, he snaps it off and throws it out the window.

It lands in some forgettable ditch on the side of the road.

I swear the world seemed bigger before.

Author's Note.

Shane is dead.

AAAAAh do you feel like you've been hit by a semi-truck, because I feel like I've been hit by a semi-truck. This chapter took a lot out of me.

I know you guys have mixed feelings about Shane — Some of you hate him, some of you don't — so I made sure everyone got their piece of satisfaction from either Harley, who was quite sympathetic, or Daryl / Rick, who were definitely uuuuuh not very sympathetic.

And yes, Harley has no left ear anymore. I wanted her to have a physical scar as well as just emotional ones from this, because Shane's death is the second biggest tragedy she's ever experienced after her Mom. I wanted her to carry it physically, if that makes sense.

Trust me, I wanted her to be ruthless toward Shane just like Daryl, but I let the poor girl live for a minute. Gave them both a little taste of what could've been, because I fit the trope of the evil writer wanting my characters to suffer, mwahaha

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was an insane ride writing it. Next up is the season finale, I guess!! Got some things planned for that.

As always, thank you for your support! 💙

[exqviis]

hello hello! my name’s isa   ( 23, she/her )   and i’m here to a) ask forgiveness for posting this so DISGUSTINGLY late and b) introduce you to amara chaichana who is a new-ish muse that’s kind of a mixture between rachel green, julien calloway, and song jia, and has been lingering in my mind for the past couple of months. i’m really excited to meet and write with all of you - so if you’re interested in plotting please don’t hesitate to click the lil heart button, or just slide straight into my dms! my discord is also available upon request, if that’s your preferred way of communication!

look who’s joining the infinite tour! only AMARA CHAICHANA, who is the STYLIST of KWON SOMI (MICHELLE). i’ve heard whispers that the 24 year old is pretty AMBITIOUS but lowkey DEMANDING. also, doesn’t she remind you of NICHA YONTARARAK (MINNIE)?

i always start my intros with links for BIO / STATS / PLOTS / PINTEREST – though i should say that the biography is still unfinished ( coming …. soon-ish? ) and the pinterest board is also under construction ;-; i should also mention that i’m ASTRONOMICALLY bad at writing intros and this will probably be all over the place – please bear with me

amara grew up in los angeles CA as the only child of a famous model and an acclaimed movie director – so upper class and very privileged ( read: spoiled ) and lucky enough to grow up incredibly loved and cared for

very much involved in the hollywood scene from a young age, accompanying her parents to many of the events they attended and walking her first red carpet at the age of seven. none of it bothered her at all – not the bright light of the camera flashes, nor the cacophony of shutter sounds, and least of all – the attention. she loved it – reveled in it, even. so it came to no one’s surprise when amara finally dipped her toes in the nepo scene at the ripe old age of fifteen. the long days spent on movie sets as a child bled into her teenage years, though now she was the one standing in front of the camera, instead of lurking in the background

okay so maybe it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows like she thought. maybe the media was a lot more ruthless now that she was older and maybe her friend group cared more about her connections than her. so what? it totally didn’t play a part in her packing her bags and exchanging hollywood’s glitz and glamour for new york’s skyscrapers – not at all

( to be fair it was only the cherry on top – in reality, she’d been planning the move for quite a while and this only gave her the final push to go ahead with it )

got into parsons on her own merit, enrolling into their fashion design program and graduating as one of the top students in her generation. gathered as many internships and courses under her belt as possible and then moved again – this time to seoul SK, where, for the first time ever, people didn’t really care about who she was or who she knew

she’d been interning at vogue korea for about a year when one of the editors recommended her for one of the stylist positions on the tour – and who was she to say no to the prospect of doing what she loves while travelling the world?

okay now for some personal info

→ although she’s been away from la for quite a while, social relationships and the image she presents to others are still just as important to her and something she’s very careful about. she’s gotten quite good at talking a lot about herself without actually saying anything substantial. she has tried to be more open with herself and others, but almost subconsciously slips back into this mindset as she’s not really used to anything different

→ unfortunately this also kinda means she does a bit of a ‘push and pull’ or ‘hot and cold’ with a lot of people where she wants their attention and wants them around, but pushes them away when she feels like they’ve gotten too close

→ she still cares about other people! very easy to be around, always ready to chat about anything and everything and help out in any way she can. likes to make people feel special and important – just as long as, you know, you don’t ask any personal questions

→ flattery may not work on everyone, but it does on her – though she hates to admit it. amara’s easy to sway, you just gotta put in a lil effort and know the right words

→ very detailed, very dedicated, very determined. also incredibly competitive – not to the point where she’d actively sabotage someone else for her benefit but she definitely tries to stay a couple of steps ahead when it comes to the things she wants

[artemiseamoon]

Hey love

First : read the new chapter of damage control. Forgive me for that long comment. I wanted to add that I enjoyed the aesthetic boards. Definitely help with the visualization of everything. I swear I love that story like crazy.

Furthermore I did see the post you made about your stories before I’m sure you deleted it. I wanted to take some time to ponder on it before I followed my first instinct and hit you up when I saw it first. Honestly, I don’t know (to your question) I enjoy your writing. Like I said a while ago when is started reading your stuff. You really pulled me into OC writing. The way you bring together a character is intriguing. Along with the visualizations you provide. I have so many of you OC series in my drafts like wisteria & moonlight (did not know about it till I saw you posted a finale chapter) that I plan to read. I will admit 🫣 damage control is my fave so I always make immediate time to read it.

It saddens me when thinking of your feelings but I understand. Todays world of writing on this site is weird. It’s definitely a contest of whose cooler and so many cliques. I truly believe there are more people than you know who read your stuff but might be shy or I don’t know (rambling now). I can only speak for myself so once again love your stories and hope people spread their love of them also 💚💚💚💚 (hope this wasn’t out of place, I rambled too much lol)

Hi 💕💕💕

First, I always welcome and LOVE long comments. Do you don’t have to apologize, it made me smile and I was so happy to see it! Comments alone are a rare surprise, long ones? Even better.

The aesthetic boards - thank you! Those are my pride and joy. I literally can’t write anything without making a board. Sometimes I make a board first, to help me organize my thoughts for the chapter. I’m a visual thinking, and aside from enjoying the act of creating them, I do appreciate when ppl notice them and say something. It’s cool. :) (this is also why I have a crazy amount of pics on my phone 😂 and my Pinterest is busssssy)

The post - yeah I did delete it, I had no idea anyone saw it. 💜 thank you for your kind words and support. I do really feel like I’m secretly black listed, it’s sucks. But what can I do?

I can only hope people give my work a chance. Give my ocs a chance and support writers outside of the popular girls table here on tumblr. With that, I hope they start reblogging our stuff too not just the top 5 most popular writers here.

Damage control - oh how I love that story and you reading it as I reveal chapters just makes me so happy. I love seeing your reactions. I have no plans as of now to delete works, so do take all the time you want, the other stuff will be there. I’ll def give a heads up if I decide to suddenly peace out down the line. As of now, save what you want and it will be there. 😁 wisteria & moonlight is another original story of mine!

The clique thing on here is so real, being on the outskirts, lucky if I get 2-3 likes (not even reblogs cause those rarely happy) is so depressing. I do hope shy readers are enjoying stuff but I don’t know. I just get silence these days but I’m trying to stay hopeful someone cares. I do have days I feel less positive tho and just straight up forgotten. I was feeling really awful the last 3 months, still am, hence that now deleted post.

Thank you so much for your message. You were totally not out of place. This was sweet and thoughtful. Thank you 💜

[tayne-dot-exe]

Ok for the "whimsical decor" room of my neocities (link from rose gif on main, soon I'm gonna make links that look like doors looking into the rooms) where one chunk is kinda witchy/astrological, and the next is beach/mermaid stuff, I have added all the items I specifically searched for and all the good candidates that were already in my pinterest boards, but I still feel like I could do more pinterest searching for stuff that fits... just trying to avoid relying just on seashells glued together and literal depictions of mermaids, and a lot of the blue fabric with gold astrological detail stuff is articles of clothing that I don't want to add straight up. I also wanna do another "mounted bug" display for bugs and butterflies that I think have fairylike wings. The next things I'm working on is I want to add pics of all the foods I like to my main page because I have problems where I forget any foods I like to eat and I want pics that make stuff look really good plus I could put links for my own personal shopping cart or add recipes for the ones that I cook myself, but I'm having trouble deciding like how I want to translate this to the room layout, I'm kinda thinking of putting everything on the same dish or bowl once I isolate them for consistency, or maybe jars like a pantry, or like a charcuterie board, but they cant fit too close together cos im just gonna lay them out in rows individually on the site. So I'm prob gonna spend a lot of today just looking up the best pics I can find of different foods if anyone wants to add me on discord and just chill with me on half a gummy doing that lmao

I'm also trying to add a room thats just terrible items, in a gradient from really flashy kickstarter tech renderings that either would never be made or should never, to fucked up redneck engineering. This is kind of a thesis antithesis of how for years when I played all the house decor games that inspired this, I would always felt like I needed to dedicate this virtual space to a kitchen in bathroom even in games where you can't use them for gameplay, and I had no feelings on making them interesting looking rooms I just wanted the idea of minimal function. But I also have a strong urge to collect and I hate irl clutter and spending money, which is a lot of the energy I'm getting out with this site, so this is kind of the thesis-antithesis from freeing myself from pretending a fake space needs to remind me of real functions, to only representing things where the function is ridiculous. A lot of kitchen appliances but also I love this era of tech renderings when smartphones were just taking hold and everyone was excited about what would be "next" but many were very inspired by iphone and would represent items having apps in ways that just wouldn't make sense that you could even use them. This also would give me a great place to put my "food crimes" pics that I've collected for a long time, and I can put up a lot more eclectic things as framed pictures in a weird room like this.

Anyway I'm prob gonna just b looking for cool pics and making things transparent all day maybe tomorrow too so feel free to hit me up for a discord call even if we aren't mutuals or haven't talked before.

[mochibdsm]

on sleeping on the floor

There’s this type of bedroom image that comes to mind. It belongs on a Pinterest board, titled Cozy or Hygge or something. There are candles and string lights and plants and soft fabrics and mugs and books and that sort of thing. It makes you sigh contentedly like you just took the first sip of a warm drink on a cold day. And to make sure you really buy into the peaceful aesthetic, there’s a pet at the foot of the bed, fast asleep. 

And that’s an important part of this image—here is your faithful companion who’s just happy to be close by, almost blending in to the decor, a peaceful and sleepy background detail, there, but out of the way. Four legged or not.

I suppose I describe why I sleep on the floor as wanting to be that first and foremost. It is less being a part of an ascetic image from my point of view, but being part of quite the opposite from Mistress’. That is the lens I try to look through. 

… 

Currently, bedtime looks like this.

I see to final tasks, and am to be ready to be leashed for the night. I unfold the fluffy blanket that lives on the floor at the foot of the bed, which mostly get called my slave furs. I turn down the bed, lay out the turndown card, and fill the humidifier.

At 9:45, I strip out of my Uniform (uniform code says I sleep nude; she likes easy access) and wait in Inspection Position (standing, legs spread, hands clasped behind head, head/eyes straight, back straight). She comes in and inspects me, tells me I did well on my evening tasks (generally), and releases me from position. I offer her lotion and apply it for her, then get into Leashing Position (kneeling on the floor at foot of bed, knees apart, big toes crossed in back (right over left), leash across both palms, hands resting on thighs, hair/head out of the way, collar o-ring in front, back straight).

She leashes me for the night, and then it’s time for sleep.

So the floor thing is bathed in other protocol. It isn’t just sleeping on the floor. It has to be taken in context. Just sleeping on the floor does not hold much meaning for me in particular—it’s powerful, as sleeping is something you spend a significant portion of your time doing—but it’s ultimately one piece of a bigger picture, one line in a contract well over two thousand words. 

I want it to be a reflection of my life during my waking hours, not an image I take up at night with echos throughout the day. I want to sleep on the floor because it feels like the right place in my life of submission, at the end of a day of serving, not as an activity to force the feeling. 

… 

People are skeptical of this, but: the floor really isn’t that uncomfortable. Granted, still my opinion. 

The bedroom is carpeted, and I have my fluffy blanket I wrap both under me for a bit more cushioning, and over me as a blanket. I ball it up under my head as a pillow, or frequently add an actual pillow, because there is admittedly strain on my neck.

The floor for me is a symbolic place, not an item of physical discomfort. I’m allowed to be comfortable there. It’s not really a masochism thing—asceticism at best. Yes, it’s simple.

But it’s not that the floor is an inferior place because it’s less comfortable, necessarily—that’s a part of it, but not all of it—but because it is lower, it is humbler. Importantly, it means that my place is defined by her place. I don’t have my own place. During the day, during time with her, I don’t have a distinct spot I go to, I don’t have a pillow I kneel on; my place is on the floor at her feet, wherever she is in the world.

And so, the same thing at night. 

… 

Pieces of this have been incorporated over time. I’ve been sleeping on the leash nightly since May 2019 or so. The floor, nightly since May 2021. 

The leash came much earlier, yes. Like my collar, Mistress has made each iteration of it herself, rope work to match. She gifted me this latest version on Valentine’s Day (2021), the biggest difference being a little more length. Yes, I got a longer leash for Valentine’s Day. Ha. 

The leash is kind of an extension of the collar, to me. The collar is the ownership symbol she put on me, kind of meant to be an identifier even when I am away from her. It says mine. But the leash is connection, the bridge. Two ends, not the claspless circle around my neck. The leash, in the moment, says with. 

During the day, the leash is invisible. It’s there, in protocol and everything else, logistically in needing to notify her if I’m leaving the house—even for the mailbox—and especially in needing permission to go most places. But I’m not going to be physically leashed all day, because we are not together all day. 

But at night, I get the physical leash. It attaches to the bed—to her place. At night, there is, physically, with, even from the floor, which reminds me, with, loved, but not equal. 

… 

I think I have just about shaken the falling sensation. 

When you sleep in an elevated bed, a possibility is that you will fall. I am a restless sleeper, and I will curl up on the very far edge of the bed, because it’s where my body guides me. I have, often, woken by falling, or almost falling, out of bed. 

Once I started sleeping on the floor, my mind still had this boundary, this amount of rolling over I could do before it thought I had gone too far, and I would bolt upright with the sensation of falling, scrambling to catch myself.

But I wasn’t falling. I had just strayed a little on the floor. 

Still, the phantom falling, like a more physical, middle of the night, fast asleep version of the type some get when trying to fall asleep, took several months to go away. Now, it’s rare, and I stray pretty far from the foot of the bed sometimes, moving back when I wake and notice. There’s plenty of floor in the opposite direction, and it’s not like anyone else is using it in the middle of the night (except for the cats, who rage their 3 AM wars on top of me either way). My slave fur cocoon mostly moves with me. The way I wrap myself up in it, I’ve never woken up out of it, even if I’m approaching the opposite wall. 

Occasionally, I stray the other direction, and manage to roll myself partially under the bed. I can’t really fit under there on my side, my default falling asleep position, but at some point I may end up partially under it on my back. And, y’know, slam my head into the tubular steel when I move (and yes, that’ll hurt for a couple of days, masochism crowd; no, I don’t recommend it). I’ve gained some awareness of if I have rolled myself under there, though, to warn me, but it’s not perfect. 

However. I have shaken the falling sensation, because my mind realizes there is nowhere lower to fall, and has relaxed about it. How’s that for symbolism? 

[sweettoothedtrickster13]

ok, so I made a post about how my forgetful ass literally forgot I started a grimoire. Like, I remembered my little notebook I use to figure out sigils in (barely), but my grimoire? Totally forgotten. I figure if I make a bigger post about it, maybe that will make my hellbrain remember a tiny bit more. Plus, I don't have anyone IRL to really talk to in-depth about this.

For starters, I'm somewhat hesitant to call myself in any degree magical, but instances throughout my life have lead others to believe there's something about me. Call it more in tune with my surroundings or the universe or whatever, but sometimes I have a pretty uncanny knack for guessing things (my family tends to call it The Shine, like Stephen King).

I'm also fairly new to writing anything serious down. I played around with making sigils but not charging them, and have a pinterest board dedicated to interesting ideas, but other than that I never wrote anything down. But I figure it's high time I put some actual thought into it.

I (respectfully!) played around with offering to deities, but felt it wasn't right for me. I still consider myself Catholic. I might play around (again- RESPECTFULLY. PLEASE DON'T SMITE ME) in the future, but for now it isn't for me. So you can be witchy without being pagan or Wiccan.

I also don't use crystals. It's just not something I was ever into, so I don't feel the need to shell out money for stuff I won't use. Again, not everything is for everyone.

I do use candles and herbs. Candles because I like them, and herbs because I figure having something more concrete to focus intent and energy is a good thing.

My grimoire is a simple two-subject notebook. I have, well, two sections- working and reference. My 'working' section comes first, and in it is everything I use personally- my own experiences, my own rituals, etc. The reference section is things I figure I should remember- candle color correspondences, moon phases and meanings, waters to make and their uses, etc. I haven't used the moon yet, but it's enticing to have a monthly ritual.

My grimoire is very lightly used right now, but I have plans for ways to fill it up. I'll share some ideas with you because I don't believe in gate keeping.

Freewriting, but cover the entire page in black ink. Or maybe use different colors? - This is an idea I had a while ago, but still like. I tend to freewrite on the computer when I need to work something out in my fiction writing, but I feel like meditation writing would also be fun.

use a burnt matchstick as a pencil- I like fire (not in a 'I light fires on purpose to destroy' way, I just like candles and things), and the idea of this was just cool to me.

various candles I make- I have a lot of tea lights, and I have plans to make different ones for different uses. One for protection, one for abundance, one for banishing, etc. I have mostly white, but I have some colored ones floating around somewhere.

maps of neighborhood and local places that have interesting energies to them- I want to draw more in my grimoire. Right now it's all writing, and it's a tiny bit boring. So personalizing it with not only my art but art of specific locations close by seems cool.

spell jars I make and how they turned out- I want to make spell jars really badly, and I figure having a record of them as far as what went in them and how it turned out is just a good practice. If it works, you want to remember that. If it didn't work, you also want to remember what you did to not do it in the future.

Oils and sprays- I don't use much yet, but having some record of what I used in which one (much like the spell jar above) seems like a good practice

candle divination- again, I like fire so trying this out seems fun.

name the grimoire- I feel like having a secret name for the grimoire will make it stand out more in my brain, plus it feels like a good way to bond with it.

draw an altar- this would be a substitute for having a physical altar. I just straight up won't remember to set one up in time for holidays, plus if I have a drawn altar it's easily hidden. Plus, I'd be able to have anything I want on it and not be bound by money or space.

house blessing- I hear that talking to your house is a good way to have it protect you from more than the elements, and again giving something a private name will bond you with it.

Have some more ideas, because why not?

Map of ideal magical space

your personal magical timeline

witchy craft projects, past present and future

personal witchy alphabet- what does 'A' mean to you? 'B'?

own language of symbols

magical recipes- not just for kitchen witches! What food do you eat that makes you feel nourished/ready for the day/other positive thing?

[igniakino]

ONE MORE DAY

Pre-Production, Set-up, Shoot and Post Thoughts

PRE-PRODUCTION

I was very excited to be asked to be the art department for One More Day. I felt there was so much that could be done with an empty bunker and I really wanted to flex my creative muscles, there was so much to make!

When I went on the first location recce I was instantly sold and started thinking about the kind of props we would need to make this space feel real and believable. There was so many options to show the passage of time and the lifestyles these two characters would have to adapt to and me and Saskia (HoD Production Designer) got straight to work on how we could achieve the wanted mood and atmosphere.

It was difficult to choose a room as there was so many amazing locations we could have chosen, but we settled for one with blank, black walls that was easy to get filming equipment in. This choice was made because the walls were the perfect canvas to layer things on without a distracting clash and was dark and dingey enough to give the definitive feeling of despair.

I have linked the Pinterest board we used as a mood board below:

The day before the shoot Saskia, Vanessa and I cleared the room of the rubble lying around so our actors could be comfortable and the filming equipment was safe. We then started to decorate and create the set you see in the final movie, which I am very proud of. We worked really hard on the production design as it was pretty integral to the story of One More Day, and I think it really ties the film together.

COSTUME AND MAKEUP

In group meetings it was debated whether we wanted it to be hot or cold in the bunker. Me and Saskia had a vision of sweaty tank tops and boiler suits if it was stuffy and humid in down there, but our director decided that the bunker would be a cold, unforgiving place. To suit this Saskia prepped the actors by telling them to bring jumpers, coats and beanies as well as fingerless gloves.

I had a lot of fun doing the makeup on set! Before we started shooting I sat both the actors down and dirtied up their faces, using eyeshadows to create the effect that grime was clinging to them. I also made them have prominent bags under their red ringed eyes, driving home the idea they are both exhausted and hopeless. I used makeup to hollow their cheeks out slightly so they looked a bit more sunken in, as well as messed up their hair and dirtied their clothes.

I decided to give Ben's character Cam dirty fingernails, applying eyeshadow around and under the nail to look like he hadn't had a good wash for a long while. I had to keep going in and reapplying this makeup between most takes as it kept rubbing off easily, but I loved the effect and didn't mind the task

PROPS

Me and Saskia spent a long time designing the props for One More Day. In the days before the shoot we got together and tore apart newspapers, magazines and fabric to cover the walls in decoration, both to act as insulation in this freezing space and to give the characters some entertainment. We filled in all the crosswords, wordsearches and sudoku sections in the papers, as well as covering some sheets in noughts and crosses and random ramblings to give the impression that this was one of their only forms of entertainment in the bunker, with some particular sections giving off an aura of cabin fever.

I had the idea to cover a section of Cam's wall with beautiful women ripped out of a magazine. In my head he was the kind of character who would need a bit of release as a lonely guy cooped up in this small space, only pictures of models to keep him company. Its a little hidden in the movie, as its definitely not the main focus of the set, but I thought it was a nice character touch to give Cam some personality.

In the middle of the two characters we set up a half played chess board, with Cam's side winning. This was is to foreshadow the events of the movie and give another form of how these two passed the time. We replaced some of the pieces with small bottles I had found, some batteries and a small panda bear figure to show that over time they had either lost the pieces or the chess board was found without them in the wreckage.

The dog food can is another prop I am very happy with. I was asked by the director to create two kinds of flavours for a dog food brand so we would not get copyrighted by an existing company, one being sirloin stake and the other chicken. I used a digital art software to create these two labels and stuck them around empty cans, making them just small enough that we could keep whatever ingredients packaging was already printed on the back of the cans. This was such a fun task to do and I love how they turned out! I will definilty be creating more props like this in the future.

Other items in the room included the sleeping bags, food cans and child's drawings. It is implied in the movie that a child character called Sarah used to be in the bunker with the two men, but she has passed before the events of the film start. There is an extra sleeping bag on the floor and a small corner of the room still occupied with her drawings and fairy lights.

The blood at the end of the movie that splatters across Sarah's drawing to Cam was made by me before the shoot. It consisted on soy sauce, water, fake blood and coca powder. I wanted to make a realistic looking fake blood as it is a pet peeve of mine when blood in movies is not an accurate colour or consistency, so I tried to make it look as close as possible to the real thing. When I was told I would have to spray it across the drawing at the end of the film I made sure to do a few splatter tests in my bath at home to get the angle right, though when it came to it on the day it was still a very difficult task to get right. It was difficult to get close enough to the drawing that the blood would actually land on the drawing and look good, but be far enough away that my shadow wouldn't get in the frame. It took a few tries and a few drawings but eventually we got the money shot! I also added blood to the radio at the end to show the messy consequences

Evidence of splatter tests + a good look at the fake blood!

SET

Me and Saskia used fabric to create the impression that Cam and Robert had separate corners of the room, draping the material along the walls to make a shelter for them. We also added some candles to have a logical in world reason for the orange light that shone on our protagonists faces. It was so much fun producing this set and I am very very proud of the atmosphere we achieved.

SHOOT DAY

We filmed over one day and it hardly felt taxing at all! The whole crew was really on the ball and got everything we need quickly and efficiently with no incidents. We all had to take regular air breaks to save our lungs from the dusty bunker, even if we were wearing masks, but it wasn't a problem to get the film finished in time. Me and Saskia kept on top of continuity and I often reapplied makeup or fixed clothes, but most of the time we enjoyed watching the scenes play out in front of us. From beginning to end the crew was on roll and it truly went so smoothly. The only thing I had trouble with was the ending blood shot!

If I could have changed anything I would have added even more set dressing and made everything a bit grimier. They have been down there for at least a year and a half, and in my opinion everything looks too clean. I wish I had dirtied up my dog food cans slightly more! Everything needed a bit more of a layer of dirt. I also wish the blood shot had been slightly better, but I am very happy with what we have.

Overall a fantastic experience that really gave me the chance to be creative and expand my skills in production design.