#spotlight art bar

[deadbrokerek]

Free Show Long Island! Pete Donnelly of The Figgs w/ Adult Magic & Trifles @ Spotlight Art Bar at The Paramount! (Poster by Doom Toof)

[sophrosynesworld]

Summer Softness

Katsuki’s always had that fierce, protective streak—everyone knows it. But what happens when the paparazzi go too far?

The gala is… unexpectedly pleasant. The air inside is filled with low, refined chatter, the clink of glasses, and the soft melodies of classical music drifting through the space. For a while, it’s easy to forget about the pressures outside.

Katsuki seems more relaxed than usual, in his own way. He’s never fully off duty—there’s always an edge to him—but tonight, he’s actually engaged in the conversation, smiling down at me as we move from one painting to the next. His crimson eyes scan the pieces before he offers a comment about the colors or techniques, terms he’s learned from watching me paint in our living room.

"I’ll be right back," Katsuki murmurs, his soft lips brushing against my ear as his hand rests gently on my waist. I hum in acknowledgment, leaning into his chest and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. As he steps away, I wander toward another sculpture, drawn in by the intricate twists of her hair, each curve and detail mesmerizing.

I glance down at the plaque beneath it.

Antonio Mardie, Summer Softness.

I step closer to the sculpture, tracing the air just above her delicate features, careful not to touch. The marble feels alive under the gallery’s soft lighting, shadows dancing over her form as if she might move at any moment.

"Beautiful, isn’t she?" A quiet voice pulls me from my thoughts. An older man, dressed in a dark coat, stands beside me, his eyes fixed on the sculpture. His expression is curious, like someone who’s seen countless works of art and yet still finds wonder in them.

I nod, glancing at him. “Yeah… I think she’s waiting for someone.”

He smiles faintly, a knowing look in his eyes. “Antonio Mardie was known for capturing fleeting moments—the softness of summer love, the quiet before a storm. It’s said this piece was inspired by a lost love, the woman he could never quite forget.”

I would go crazy without him too.

“It’s amazing,” I say softly. “Did he ever show it to her?”

“No.” The man’s voice is soft, eyes fixed on the sculpture as though lost in his own memories. “She died before it was finished… cancer.” He pauses, his voice faltering slightly before he clears his throat.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, unsure if I’m apologizing for his loss or simply for prying too much.

He nods, a faint, melancholic smile gracing his lips. “It’s all right. She’s here, in a way.” He taps the plaque lightly, the metal clinking softly under his touch. “I like to think she’d be proud.”

I smile back. “I’m sure she would be.”

As the man turns and drifts back into the crowd, I feel that familiar sensation of being watched. Scanning the room, my eyes catch on a figure with platinum hair, sitting at the bar and sipping his drink. Katsuki’s gaze is locked onto me, as if he’s been waiting the entire time.

“You’re staring,” I tease. Katsuki's eyes track my every movement, but he doesn’t respond immediately, just extends a glass of wine as I reach him.

“Couldn’t help it,” he replies, his voice low. “You were stealing the spotlight.”

I chuckle softly, accepting the wine, brushing my fingers against his. “I guess I just found something worth looking at.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking as he leans back against the bar. "Me too.”

I take a sip of the wine, letting its warmth wash over me, and smile at him, feeling a little lighter.

The night flows like that, with a steady rhythm of quiet moments and his sharp, witty remarks keeping things light. Katsuki's hand rests on the small of my back, guiding us toward the entrance. We finally step outside, the colder winter weather enveloping us, and the next thing I know, they’re on us—paparazzi swarming from every direction. The blinding lights, the rapid clicking of cameras, and the overwhelming noise—it’s all too much. I blink, trying to make sense of it when suddenly, someone shoves past me. Hard.

My breath catches in my throat as I stumble forward, feet catching on the concrete. My heart stops in that split second—until a strong arm wraps around me, pulling me upright. It’s Katsuki who catches me mid-fall, his grip firm but careful, instantly shifting me behind him like the first time we met.

The second he pushes me behind his back, I feel his whole body tense. He’s furious—I can see it in the tightness of his jaw, the fire burning in his eyes. Katsuki’s glare cuts through the crowd, searing into the faces of the people around us. The once-shouting paparazzi shrink back, their aggressive pursuit turning hesitant under his gaze. My arms wrap around his waist, attempting to calm him, but it’s pointless.

His voice is low, a growl barely restrained. “Who the hell touched her?”

No one dares respond. The air around us feels heavy, almost crackling with his anger. He takes a step forward, towering over them.

“I said, who did it? Step forward, or I swear to god, I’ll give you something to report about.”

The crowd of photographers seems to freeze, like they’re deciding whether getting the next big story is worth Dynamight’s wrath. There’s a moment of eerie silence, then a few of them start backing away, realizing that whatever shot they were hoping for isn’t worth the risk.

He turns back to me, his crimson eyes searching my face with a sharp, almost frantic focus. His hands lift to rest on the sides of my face, and despite everything, his touch is gentle, almost delicate.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice rough but quieter now.

I nod, even though my heart’s still racing, the adrenaline pumping through my veins. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Good,” he mutters, his jaw still clenched, though his grip loosens slightly. "If anyone tries something like that again, I’ll handle it.” He glances back at the remaining paparazzi, eyes narrowing into slits. “I'll fucking kill you. Put that on the record.”

With that, he guides me forward, his arm firmly around my waist, shielding me from any more intrusions. As we walk away from the crowd, I glance up at him, noticing the way he stays on high alert, even as the commotion begins to die down.

“Thanks, katsuki,” I whisper, but he just grunts in response, his eyes still scanning for any threats. But in this moment, walking beside him, I don’t mind the danger. Because I know, without a doubt, that he’s got me.

Author's note: I was giggling and kicking my feet this entire chapter. We are so back baby.

[oukabarsburgblr]

Ouka Bars. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ " 𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗜 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗽𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗿𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺 𝗼𝗳 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝘄𝗻 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝘆 𝗸𝗲𝘆𝗯𝗼𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘀. 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗼 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝗮𝘀 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗮𝘀 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺… "

[LOADING WORLD...]

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 (𝐡/𝐜), 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝…˚ · .

𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ... profile

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ kind, privileged, possibly two-faced, daddy is protective of him and would rather wait patiently for you to confess first until someone decides to declare their love to you...

𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗦 : [ DY's secret realms... ]

𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐩. 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮…˚ · .

𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 ₊˚.⋆𖤓⋆⁺₊✧ ... profile

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ stoic, hard-headed, faux red hair, hates everyone but you and someone who is willing to kill anyone harboring ill towards you and one with puppy syndrome, a helicopter hovering son of a gun who is a total mess for you...

𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗦 : [ AS's secret realms... ]

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞...˚ · .

𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- ... profile

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ tired, favourite pastime is sleeping, hetero, and is tired of you acting aloof of the other two's advances, hates crowds and hates the attention that unfortunately is brought along with the spotlight dawned on you, the complimentary childhood friend....

𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗦 : [ UNAVAILABLE ]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧? 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐢𝐥? 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 (𝐦/𝐧) (𝐥/𝐧) 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝…˚ · .

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞!

Disclaimer! All arts used in these blog are not mine and belong to their respective artists!

𝗧𝗘𝗖𝗛𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗘𝗦... [ more info under the cut! ]

my style of writing consists of flat-out description of actions rather than feelings of the heart. most of those emotions are up to interpretation rather than me spoon-feeding you the cue! heavy dubcon bottom male reader!

drabbles...

taglist [open and available!]...

other fanfics...

rules on my blog!

[lovelettersforthedamned]

The Winner

✰ stanford!art donaldson x stanford!f!reader

✰ word count : 1.0k

✰ summary : you never get tired of being art donaldson's girl, especially when you get to reward him for his win later that night.

✰ warnings: kissing, allusions to smut, minors dni, 18+, tashi erasure (i'm sorry), art is happy LOL.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main m.list ⋆ art donaldson m.list

⋆ gif by @supersoldierslover

Your professor’s monotone voice was the cherry on top of your already long day. Scheduling back-to-back lectures right before Art’s game days wasn’t ideal, but you made it work. You’re grateful to not play a sport while also engaging in academics. There have been countless nights spent in the library with Art, going over his notes because his practice in the afternoon tends to run late, pushing his homework time to the late hours of the night. 

With your head resting on your hand, another yawn is pulled from your body. A buzz from your back pocket jolts you awake, causing an embarrassing heat to flood your face. Quietly, you reach for your phone and check the message that almost gave you a heart attack. 

artie <3: I saved you a spot! My bag should be on the seat, and there’s a snack in there for you. 

You smile at the text. 

you: I’ll be out of class soon! I love you, superstar. 

artie <3: I love you!

And with the clock striking six thirty in the afternoon, you jump out of your seat and rush to the courts. Determination is written across your face as you frantically rush to the spot Art had saved for you that’s right at the front. Sure enough, a granola bar is inside his bag. 

It only takes a few minutes before Art makes his entrance on the court, his eyes automatically searching for you. Even after months of dating, spotting him made your heart race. He’s so captivating in the way he moves, especially when he plays. 

But even as he’s approaching you, you’re stuck in a daze. “Hi, pretty girl,” his voice carries a smile through it, something you’ve always appreciated. You lean over the fence and give him a kiss, his hand coming to the side of your face as if he wants to pull you impossibly closer to his touch. 

Taking his other hand in yours, you can feel that his palm is slightly clammy, “Are you nervous? You shouldn’t be.” 

He huffed a laugh and looked down because his ‘tough guy’ act didn’t slide past you. “I’m always nervous when you watch me play,” he admits, a rosy blush fluttering over his cheeks. 

You squeeze his hand once, an unspoken form of reassurement. “Don’t be,” you smile, “I’m your number one fan.” You joke, but not really.

With one last kiss, he leaves to play the game you’ve watched him perfect for the past few years. And though he’s hitting the ball to his opponent, you can’t help but focus on your boyfriend. The muscles in his arm flex with each movement as the sweat drips down his forehead, causing him to pull the bottom of his shirt up to wipe the perspiration away. Giving you, and the girls behind you, a perfect view of the cut of his abdomen leading down to the waistband of his shorts. 

Of course, you knew Art was attractive, and pair that with him being the best man on the team, he’s bound to receive attention. At first, the constant gawks and inappropriate comments towards him made your blood boil. You couldn’t stand the sight of the girls throwing themselves at your boyfriend, but now, you’ve learned to use them to your advantage. 

Before dating Art, there was no way you would purposely put yourself out there. Going to parties and bars wasn’t your favorite way to spend Friday nights, but now, you’re forced to embrace the spotlight just by being associated with Stanford's star tennis player. 

Art always has you by his side, an arm snaked around your waist as he greets friends at social gatherings. It took a while to get used to, but you wouldn’t have it any other way with Art by your side. 

Leaning back in your seat, you enjoy the Spring sun as you watch Art’s match unfold. And with the girls behind you giggling at your boyfriend, you smile. You smile because you know you’ve won.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

With Art’s opponent hitting the ball out, that was the match; an easy victory for Stanford. You rise to your feet and smile while applauding. Slinging Art’s bag over your shoulder, you unapologetically flaunt the embroidered stitching writing, ‘DONALDSON’ towards the girls behind you before walking off. 

You make your way to the exit of the locker room as you wait for Art to appear. You make casual conversation with the people around you, mostly friends and family of the other players, when some of them start to come out. Slowly, but surely, you see the mess of dirty blond hair push open the door, a smirk coming to your lips. 

He puts his classic red hat on backward before engulfing you in a hug, picking you up off of your feet, and spinning you in a circle. You giggle as you find your footing on the pavement below you, “See? There's no need to be nervous when I watch. You crushed it, baby.” 

“Maybe you’re my good luck charm,” he suggests, pulling away before he grabs your hand, leading the both of you to his dorm—a stupid boyish smile on his face. 

You brush off the feeling of his cock pressed into your thigh as he spun you as you let him lead you to his place, “Is this you subtly asking that I come to every single one of your matches?” 

“Hmm,” that smile never faded from his mouth, “maybe?” 

“Are you going to prove to me why I should? Or are you going to keep subtly flirting with me until I’m the one that has to beg for you to fuck me?” 

Your question surprises him and causes him to quicken his pace as you laugh behind him. He’s dragging you to his room, and you won’t stop him. Not after his big victory, he deserves to feel good tonight. 

⋆ author's note: ANOTHER ART FIC BECAUSE I CANNOT GET ENOUGH OF HIM!!!! thank you for all the love on the last few art fics!!! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog this work if you loved it!! ok, ily byeeee!!!

[lovings4turn]

જ⁀➴  𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄  . . .  (𝐋. 𝐍.)

— whilst you love the excitement that comes with dating a formula one driver, you cherish the quiet, private moments with lando far more

+ part of my 'be my valentine' mixtape series ! inspired by 'kiss me' by sixpence none the richer, which is one of my fav songs of all time <3

whenever you told someone that your boyfriend drove formula one cars for a living, their initial response was always to 'ooh' and 'ahh' over how luxurious that must be for you. you must be so well travelled, spoiled with tons of gifts, showered with champagne any time he did well on track.

and you would agree - it was true, after all - but those were never your favourite parts of dating lando norris.

what you loved most about lando was how himself he was, no matter how bright the spotlight that shone on him became. it was lando being so quintessentially, well, lando, that had led you to the dreamlike date you were currently on together.

no longer phased by late night texts requesting your company at any hour of the day, you'd wasted no time in getting yourself dressed up for a mystery date the moment lando had messaged you about it.

and now, sat beneath the stars on the hood of his car, you felt like the luckiest person to walk the earth. how lando had found such a pretty, secluded location, you'd never know. part of the beauty was not knowing.

bar the moon acting as your chaperone, it was just you and lando for as far as you were aware. for one night, you were granted your own part of the earth, a land that could be your own.

lando, cheesy as ever, had began to play some romantic old love song from his car speakers, a gesture that was only briefly delayed by the house song he'd accidentally queued up first.

once you'd controlled your giggles, lando had held out his hand, stooping down into a bow and playing the part of a gentleman.

"can i have this dance?" he asked, grin so wide his eyes began to crinkle up at the corners.

hesitant was a feeling you never experienced around lando. your hand was in his before you had time to think.

neither of you were particularly well versed in the art of dance, but you knew each other like the back of your own hands, and each step and movement was fluid, second nature after years together.

the silver moon cast a glittering glow over your intertwined frames, a spotlight for your personal duet that caught lando's face perfectly in it's light.

"you're staring," lando mused, eyes sparkling in amusement as he realised he'd caught you.

"you're making it hard not to," you admitted, eyes flitting down to the curve of his top lip briefly before you met his eyes once more.

"so i'm a distraction, am i?"

it was a joke, yet his fondness for you outweighed the humour in the tone of his voice.

"well, you said it not me."

lando laughed at this, a sound that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

"i think i can be even more of a distraction," he hummed.

in one swift move, lando's lips were on yours as his hands gripped your waist firmly. the kiss was soft, yet passionate, the movements of his tongue somehow tracing everything he could never say to you into the cavern of your mouth.

being at the track with lando was fun, as was the winter trips to ski lodges and summer holidays in resorts. but without a doubt, your favourite place to be with lando was underneath the haze of the milky twilight, lips locked as his heart bore roots into your own chest.

[pamsimmer]

LUNAR PHASES CHALLENGE

My very first challenge and I'm excited? haha

When I was looking for occults challenge to play I found a lot of witches and vampire type of things, but I don't quite remember seeing a werewolf one.

These three occults are my favorites (unfortunately I kind of ignore the others because you know... meh, not as fun to play with them. But maybe one day I'll try to make a mermaid challenge)

Down here you're gonna find the rules and guidelines for each gen. You don't have to follow strictly the rules if you don't want to, I know it can be annoying sometimes. And also I made it short for those who prefer shorter challenges (like me).

I just hope you have fun!

[edit: a friend made the graphic rules and it looks amazing. if you prefer it like this: HERE]

Rules:

You must reside only in the occults’s worlds, but preferably in Moonwood Mill (You can always kick your family out and pretend you’re living in another place hehe)

Start as YA, any gender

You can use cheats if you want.

Heir must be a werewolf

Normal or Long Lifespan

You don’t have to max all these skills, but it would be nice if you at least worked on them all your sims lives

When I put ( / ) is because you can choose what you prefer or if you don’t have said pack you can choose the base game one.

Requirements: Werewolves, Snowy Scape, Get Together, Get To Work

GENERATION 1: Waxing Crescent

You grew up close to the Moonwood Collective, they are basically your family and you learned how to be a good sim and not hurt others. You prefer to lock yourself up than to behave like an animal in front of others. You always loved art/writing and your hobby is to play piano. You don’t like the spotlight because of your werewolf tendencies, so you chose a more “reclusive” career.

Traits: Proper/Snob, Bookworm, Good

Aspiration: The Emissary of the Collective

Skills: Charisma, Piano/Painting, Writing

Career: Painter or Writer (It can be the freelance career if you prefer)

Volunteer with family (or alone) at least once a week

Your partner can be any gender, can be human or even another type of occult, as long as the heir is a werewof.

Get married to your partner and never divorce. You two were made for each other

GENERATION 2: Waning Gibbous

Your parents wanted you to be as perfect as they are, but you’re not them. You have your own personality and your own desires. You’re a rebel. You love being a werewolf and you feel powerful when you show others who you are. The only thing you got from your parent was the love for music, but you are more of a guitar type of sim. And you want to be the leader of your own pack.

Traits: Mean, Active, Kleptomaniac

Aspiration: Wildfang Renegade

Skills: Mischief, Fitness, Guitar

Career: Criminal or perform only odd jobs and have a part time job

Meet your friends at the bar every weekend

Have a “fight club” club

Get pregnant/get your girlfriend pregnant as a teen (if your sim is a boy: don’t assume the responsability / if your sim is a girl: give the baby to someone else. you can keep the child close to you if you want to play with them later, in case it’s a werewolf)

Get married as a Young Adult and divorce before become an Adult. You can find love again, but if you don’t, that’s okay. (preferably die alone :)

One day your sims is gonna teach their teen kid (the heir) how to fight. You’re take them to Greg and let them fight Greg… alone.

GENERATION 3: Full Moon

You never got along with your parent. You actually hate them. You prefer to be alone, you’re like a hurt puppy that attacks others who tries to come closer to you. But you’re very sweet on the inside. And finally one day you find the love of your life and you have a beautiful family together.

Traits: Loner, Gloomy, Hot-Headed

Aspiration: Lone Wolf

Skills: Gardening, Handiness, Fishing

Career: Gardner or Fisherman (and perform odd jobs)

If you chose gardner: go fishing every weekend, if you chose fisherman: have a garden

Live off the grid, at least until you get married (after that you can go back to society again if you want to. But it’s not mandatory)

Have at least two kids

GENERATION 4: New Moon

You grew up in a loving family. You have so many plans for your life, but you don’t want to be a werewolf forever. You spent your teenager years reading werewolf books and you got the Lunar Epiphany and learned how to make the cure. Maybe you’re the one who breaks the family’s curse, right? and you want to be a super parent because your own parent inspired you.

Traits: Genius, Family-Oriented, Loyal

Aspiration: Cure Seeker

Skills: Logic, Parenting, Baking/Gourmet Cooking

Career: Doctor/Astrounaut

Find love when you are already a human and be the best parent you can be!

Go out on dates at least once a week with your partner, and when you have a child go out at least once a week with your family.

[theoutcastrogue]

Cartoon depictions of the homeless increasingly reflect the hostility of today’s political leaders toward people on the streets. We’ve gone from images of charming hobos with bindles to zombies taking over cities. If you consume any news at all, you’ve probably noticed that the United States is pathologically cruel to its homeless citizens. This May, the brutal killing of Jordan Neely—who was strangled to death, at the age of 30, simply because he was unhoused and shouting on the Manhattan subway—captured the national spotlight, but it was just one of many such cases of unprovoked violence. In January, two cops reportedly kidnapped a homeless man in Hialeah, Florida, drove him to an “isolated and dark location,” and beat him unconscious. That same month, art dealer Shannon Collier Gwin faced battery charges after he sprayed a homeless woman with a hose outside his San Francisco gallery, barking “Move! Move!” at her. (Predictably, Gwin got a lenient plea deal of just 35 hours of community service.) Elsewhere in the city, homeless San Franciscans have been attacked with chemical bear spray on at least eight occasions. Other assaults have been more impersonal but no less vicious. On July 14, the city of Houston abruptly closed its only public cooling center in the downtown area, potentially condemning anyone without shelter to suffer heatstroke in 90-degree weather. Among the property-owning class, the phenomenon of hostile architecture—sidewalks with spikes that stab anyone who tries to sleep, benches with iron bars, and the like—has become de rigueur. The widespread callousness and lack of compassion are both infuriating and hard to comprehend. How on Earth, we might ask, did things get this bad? [...]

Looking back at older cartoons, one of the things that stands out immediately is the absence of negative attitudes toward the homeless. In fact, during the Golden Age of animation, creators seemed to have had a real affinity for the poor and unhoused, often placing their most iconic characters in that role. There’s a wonderful 1948 Warner Bros. short called “Riff Raffy Daffy,” in which Daffy Duck is looking for a place to sleep—first on a park bench, then a trash can, and finally a furniture display in a shop window—and has to dodge the harassment of the police, as represented by Porky Pig in a little blue uniform. (Literally, the cop is a pig!) Or, in the 1950 cartoon “Homeless Hare,” Bugs Bunny’s rabbit hole is destroyed by a new construction project, leading him to unleash his usual slapstick mayhem against the developers until they put it back. In these cartoons, homelessness is something inflicted on people by outside forces—gentrification and the real estate business, in Bugs’ case—and something which can be successfully resisted. Even Disney cast a homeless dog as a romantic lead in 1955’s Lady and the Tramp, contrasting Lady’s sheltered naivety with Tramp’s superior knowledge of the world. The title invokes the memory of Charlie Chaplin’s “Tramp” films, which similarly brought dignity and humanity to the role of a homeless man. (Bugs Bunny, too, takes inspiration from Chaplin, and multiple Warner animators have drawn him as the Tramp.) In 1961, Hanna-Barbera’s profoundly underrated Top Cat followed the adventures of a gang of wisecracking Manhattan alley cats, who, like Daffy, are always outwitting a meddling policeman. At worst, classic cartoons may trivialize the suffering and danger associated with homelessness—there’s a certain recurring image of the carefree hobo carrying a bindle, which paints the whole subject in a romanticized light—but the homeless themselves are rarely disparaged or made the butt of the joke. Quite the opposite. 

It took a few years, but cartoons caught up to the Reaganite turn. In episodes from the ’90s and early 2000s, there’s a palpable shift in the way homeless characters appear compared to earlier decades. The perspective is different: we’re now seeing them through the eyes of comfortably housed characters, rather than their own. Often they don’t even get proper names. [...] This trajectory leads us, perhaps inevitably, to SpongeBob SquarePants. [..] Squidward gets accused of stealing a dime by his comically greedy boss, Mr. Krabs, and quits his job in a fit of outrage. We then flash forward to see Squidward, now bedraggled and unshaven, living in a cardboard box on the street and begging for change. [...] Mercifully, the ever-cheerful SpongeBob gives Squidward a place to stay—but the moment he’s safely off the street, Squidward turns from a sympathetic victim of circumstance into a lazy, entitled freeloader, straight out of a Reagan speech. He makes no effort to find work and loafs around SpongeBob’s house for ages. [...] Eventually, an exasperated SpongeBob writes “GET A JOB” in his alphabet soup, before shoving him (bed and all) back to work at the Krusty Krab. [...] Worst of all, though, the episode suggests that homelessness can be solved on an individual basis if the people in question simply stop being lazy and “GET A JOB.” This is the biggest myth of all. In 2021, a statistical analysis by the University of Chicago found that 53 percent of people in homeless shelters, and 40.4 percent of unsheltered people, do have jobs. The problem is that their wages are too low, and rents are too high. According to statistics from the same year, it’s impossible for someone working a full-time, minimum-wage job to afford a single-bedroom apartment in 93 percent of U.S. counties, and there are no states in which someone can rent a two-bedroom space on the current federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour. In other words, homelessness has little or nothing to do with personal responsibility, or lack thereof. It’s a consequence of large-scale economic decisions made by landlords and bosses. [...]

— Alex Skopic

[parkerluvsu]

Sorry if i'm asking for too much but girl we desperately need a full fic of cowboy!Art 🛐. Like Art seeing another cowboy approach you and him feeling so jealous and possessive even you're not his yet and him finally finding the courage to confess his love to you but you reject him or something and he starts working harder to get you to accept him 🧎‍♀️🛐

omg not asking for too much at all!!! tried to make this as long as i could but im just so bad at translating my thoughts to words so.. hope u like it <3 (also no i don't know anything about cowboys or rodeos so please forgive me)

PonyBoy (Art Donaldson)

cowboy! art donaldson x fem! reader

late summer nights in july were always your favorite, the captivating sunsets and low-flying june bugs only adding to your enjoyment. usually, people in your small town could be found smoking or knitting on their creaky front porches on a pretty night like this but tonight was a special occasion, with every person who could manage the walk to the outskirts of town or snag a ride in the bed of a truck packed into the rickety seats of the outdoor arena, waiting for the rodeo show to begin. you near the entrance to the venue, tapping your foot anxiously. the most famous rodeo cowboy in your town, art donaldson, is facing another challenger from the next town over. of course you wanted your cowboy to win, there's always been rivalry between your two towns, and now that there was an outlet to outperform each other, both towns showed out for their cowboys.

art donaldson had been the talk of the town since he hit the scene a couple years ago, renowned for his skills and many trophies in rodeos across the state but especially popular among young women and men who found themselves extremely attracted to his strong frame and pretty blond hair. you never caught onto the craze though, thinking he was too good to be true. you'd been scorned a few times in your life by those pretty cowboy types, so you just leaned back in your seat and watched as fans of art crowded around the entrance where he would soon emerge.

as the lights dim over the arena the crowds roars become louder, the claps and woops of fans young and old echoing through the space. you almost have to cover your ears when the announcer yells at the crowd to settle down and welcome the challenger from the neighboring town. boos and yells now fill the stadium, as arts opponent preens at the attention coming from the crowd, tipping his obscenely huge cowboy hat at you, winking smugly. you roll your eyes, turning your head to the spotlight illuminating the entrance where art would soon emerge. the energy in the arena immediately changed when art entered the ring, and even you couldn't resist standing up and clapping and cheering for him like the rest of the fans in the crowd. you swore you felt his eyes on you when he was waving at the crowd, but you were just imagining it.. right?

the rodeo goes by in a flash, you're not surprised that art comes out on top in the end. he rides his horse in a celebratory circle around the ring, when he gets to your section your stomach drops as he tips his hat at you, a small smirk on his face. you look away, reasoning that he probably does this with every girl he sees, a big celebrity like him is sure to be a playboy.

exiting the arena, you looked for your car in the parking lot, lost in the sea of beat up pickups. not looking where you were going, you suddenly hit a wall of muscle, looking up, immediately annoyed before you notice a familiar smirk. "art.. art donaldson?" you step back, looking around for his roadies and drunk friends that always seem to follow him around. "in the flesh darlin'" he flashes that smirk again and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. "no offence but shouldnt you be like at an after party or something? you won today, im sure you'd get free drinks at any bar in town" you don't mean to stereotype him but.. he truly seems like the type to have a different girl hanging off his arm every night. he smiles, "parties ain't really my thing, actually i was hoping id find you out here". you look at him with raised eyebrows, wondering if he's got you mixed up with another girl. "see, well i saw you in the crowd, most people at these things just go crazy for me but, honestly you didn't seem too interested at all" he shrugs. you shake your head, hoping he's not out here to lecture you about his sport, "no, no that's not it.. i just don't exactly have interest in watching men preen themselves, i mean your opponent was being a total duche to me". he frowns immediately, "are you serious? jesus.. im sorry darlin' ill keep my eye out for him, wouldn't want you to get scared and never come see me again.." he trails off. you tap your foot on the ground hoping he'll get to the point soon. art catches your drift, "well anyway, i was wondering if you'd let me prove you wrong, im a little more than a famous cowboy yknow". you look around, almost expecting cameras to pop out and announce you were on some sort of prank show. "are you kidding?" he shakes his head. "listen i.. i don't doubt that you're fun or whatever but i don't date celebrities" you say matter-of-factly. he frowns, finally taking off his hat for the first time that night, letting you see his slightly sweaty blond hair, curled in the heat, "you're kidding. i promise, just lemme take you on one date-" you cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips, "i said i don't date celebrities. im flattered really, but i have my morals. goodnight ponyboy" he bristles at the nickname and you giggle, turning quickly and letting out a breath of air you didn't know you were holding. you barely register his call after you, "just gimme a call princess, ill prove you wrong!". you shake your head, finally making it to your car and shutting the door, placing your head on the steering wheel. that couldn't have actually just happened.. the art donaldson hitting on you.. you knew all the girls in your town would kill for a chance to be in your place, and they would never turn him down. driving along the winding roads to your house, you bite your lip, wondering if you made the right choice. shaking your head slightly you push the idea out of your mind, he's probably out finding another girl to flatter and take home. it was settled, you wouldn't think about him anymore. but as your head hit the pillow that night the last thing you thought of was that stupid smirk of his.

the rest of your week goes on like normal, repeating your routine every day, without thought of your weird encounter with art. it's wednesday, meaning the local farmers market is open. you grab your bag and head out into the world, immediately wishing you grabbed a hat to shield you from the sun. making you way down to the center of town, bustling with buyers and sellers of fresh food. you walked around the market, thinking about what you needed, you stopped at a peach stand to look at your list, not noticing who was next to you. "so we meet again sweetheart.." you recognize the drawl of the familiar cowboy next to you, letting out a deep sigh. "are you following me ponyboy?" you question, looking up at his blue eyes, shadowed by his cowboy hat. art shakes his head, chucking at you, and you hate to admit it but it's a very attractive chuckle. "no, 'course not, you turned me down remember? i know when im not wanted.." the way he says that, you almost get offended. "i- you know i didn't mean it like that, i just don't date celebrities, no matter who they are" you say, looking up at the now very confused peach farmer, looking between the both of you. you pay for your peaches and leave, and to your (partial) annoyance you hear arts cowboy boots against the gravel behind you. "can i ask you somethin'?" you nod, and art takes his place at your side. "why don't you date celebrities, just curious of course" you smile, shaking your head, he really won't give up, will he? "well, i guess i just don't think they're real, too good to be true yknow? most of the once ive seen are just total players, i feel like it's in their nature to be greedy and always want more. no offence obviously.." art nods along with what you're saying, truly looking like he's thinking about it. "geez, you're an expert on the topic aren't you? i would hate to find out you think of me that way, cuz i really aint that type of guy" art looks down at you, walking slowly to match your pace. "well.." you look him up and down, "you don't exactly have the presence of someone who likes to keep to themselves" art laughs, now letting silence seep between you as you make your way back to your home. arts quiet presence is surprisingly comforting for a showboat like him, if you closed your eyes you probably wouldn't even notice he was there. reaching the porch of your house you turn to face him, not sure what to say next. art takes off his hat, placing it on his heart, "let me prove you wrong. please, im begging you sweetheart, ill do anything you want me to do to convince you" your eyes widen, shocked at the sudden advance. "you.. aren't gonna let this go are you?" he shakes his head quickly, "not at all, no." you sigh, "you're very sweet art but.. i don't even know you-" he cuts you off. "then get to know me, i won't disappoint you darlin'" you weigh the options in your mind, the cons and the pros of the situation, with art right in front of you, you can't help but take a chance. "alright, alright. one date okay ponyboy? one." his face lights up immediately, placing his hat back on his head. "thank you, thank you seriously, ill prove you wrong about me" you nod at his promise. "i should get inside but.." he nods, looking almost sad at the thought of you leaving. "alright.. ill pick you up tomorrow at seven, does that work for you" he's eager, more eager than you'd expect, and you're flattered. you agree, heading inside and preparing for the next day.

one date turns into two, then three, the next minute you're seeing each other every night. most of the time art comes to your place, he tells you it's because he doesn't really have a permanent residence at the moment, but you know he does it just to get to know you better, peeking through your books and trinkets, looking for something to boost his knowledge about you. he cooks too, something you didn't expect from him at all, to his credit, he's absolutely proving you wrong, but you'd never admit that to him, he's too cocky as it is. he hardly ever talks about rodeo when he's with you, separation of work and pleasure he tells you, but truthfully he just doesn't want you to see him as that celebrity, he just wants to be art with you. and you let him be normal with you, spending lazy days in bed with him, not worrying about anything. you can't imagine your life without him anymore, he's there when you wake up, when you're preparing breakfast and going about your chores for the day, he's there, when you get in bed for the night he's certainly there too. he'd never tell you, but he thanks his lucky stars when you fall asleep in his arms, he shudders thinking about where he'd be if you turned him down. luckily, he'd never have to think about that anymore, now that he was yours, your ponyboy.

[recuira]

after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

chapter one | caution. chaos. coconut. his pov;

I didn't like to put a label on things; doing so made things too specific, too real. And for me, I preferred for things to seem as unspecific and false as possible.

I preferred for things to be simple. There is beauty in simplicity.

Maybe that's why I found her to be so gorgeous.

She was simple.

There was not a single thing I didn't know about her. I didn't need to go out of my own way to find out her favorite color or food - she told me (though not directly). She told them. She told everyone. She was rather open about herself while I kept everything private. I had my reasons to remain rather anonymous and to stay out of the spotlight and thrive in the shadows while she glistened in the spotlight. She was an open book.

But I still wanted to read her.

I wanted to study her.

And maybe that's why I traveled to the North Blue - to be closer to her. But I wouldn't admit that aloud. I would seem rather insane if she knew, and I wasn't insane. My mind operated differently to others. I was often classified as different and odd, especially by my peers when I was still in school. I was teased to be the quiet kid, picked on because of my nose. I was deemed to be the one most likely to commit some type of horrid act. They weren't wrong, but no one likes to be judged for how they truly are.

She didn't judge me.

Well, of course, she didn't even know me.

But she wasn't the type to judge. Which made my appeal to her even more strong and wild. I was finally able to watch her up close, months after first discovering a rare form of art like her.

The bar was packed, much to my dismay. I liked things to remain quiet despite my love for disarray. I was able to think when it was quiet. I’ve always had thousands of thoughts racing through my mind, so much so that it was difficult to pick a single train and hop on board. But when my eyes landed on her, my mind settled.

She was sitting alone in the corner of the bar, a large round booth all to herself. She had a small yet cute smile on her round face as she sipped on a beverage. Not alcohol- no, she hated alcohol, which is why I cut back on it. I wanted to be the best version of myself for her. Well, whenever I got the courage to talk to her, that is. She made me cower in fear, in anxiety. Someone so timid and fragile as her made someone like me- a pirate, a killer, a clown fall to his knees. I was a fool for her.

Lifting up my drink, I took a sip of the carbonated juice, grimacing as the alcoholic tang was nonexistent. I scoured and gave in, waving down one of the waitresses to add something to my drink. Maybe then I would be able to think straight and finally be able to talk to her. I needed something to fog my judgement and give me the balls to go talk to her- although my dick was confidence enough. God, the way she made me feel was impeccable. She made my pants tighten when she took a sip of her drink. I watched her pink lips suck on the straw as she kicked her feet and examined a newspaper on the wooden table. I squirmed in my seat and leaned back, a deep sigh leaving my lips.

Once the waitress topped off my drink, I waved her off and continued to sit by myself, admiring the maiden who sat by herself. By herself? God, I still didn’t get that. How was she alone? How was she sitting by herself in a bar as crowded as this one? She had friends, many of them. She had family, too. But why must she sit in silence and all by her lonesome?

I huffed and itched at the back of my neck, my hand dragging down to grab my chin and cover my nose. I clenched my jaw and pondered the possibility that my ego would actually allow me to stand up, walk over to her, and sit across from her. Maybe I could buy her a drink? But nevertheless, I remained glued to my seat, downing at least three glasses of whiskey. I lost track.

I lost complete track of time that whenever I finally came back to, she was standing tall, slinging her coat back over her shoulders, and starting for the door. I gulped and turned, my eyes following her. But before she could leave the bar and disappear for the night, a tall, stout man blocked her exit. I squinted my eyes.

“And where do you think ‘yer going?” The pirate smirked, his arms folding over his chest. His belly bounced as he laughed. “Going so soon?”

“Please let me by,” She instructed, trying to budge past the weighted man but to no avail, he stood still. “What is it you want?”

“To see you undressed.”

I grabbed the edge of the table, feeling my body grow hot. It wasn’t because of her, though it mostly always was. She had an effect on me. But this man, he angered me, fucking enraged me. I could feel my blood beginning to boil as he continued to harass both her and me.

“Oh, come on, what’s a sexy little lady like you got going on tonight?” The fat man hummed, reaching forward to grab hold of the leather backpack that hung over her shoulder’s. She shoved him away and backed up.

“I’ll find another exit,” She announced and turned on her heel, starting to head to the back of the bar where other patrons parted through.

“Come on!”

She walked right past me, speeding down the aisle. I closed my eyes and inhaled the sweet, delicate scent of her perfume and shampoo. Vanilla and coconut. Fuck me.

“I can walk you home!”

She stopped in her steps and faced the obese pirate, her arms folding over her chest. “Fuck off, you pig!” She spat, eyes rolling as she started to turn around once again but she stopped, and looked at me.

Oh my god, she looked at me.

At me.

“Baby, can we go?”

I blinked. What?

“Please?” She asked, looking at me with such desperation in her eyes that a tent started to form in my pants.

What? What was she doing? I didn’t know whether to accept or deny. Why was she doing this? Was she delusional? Stupid? Hallucinogenic?

“I know you wanted to have a bit more to drink but I feel much safer walking back with you. You can come back after,” She smiled softly and stepped toward me, her soft hand resting on my shoulder. She then leaned down, inching closer to me. Her lips grazed my ear, hot breath making my skin redden. “Please go along with it,” She pleaded.

“Ah, so you have a mate, huh?” The stout pirate laughed, taking a few hard steps towards the two of us. “That’s okay with me.”

Her soft eyes darted from me to the pirate and then back to me. She looked so enchanting when in distress.

“Hey.” I grabbed her wrist and squeezed it. “Yes, of course, darlin’. Come on.” I moved her arm and she backed up, standing straight. I dug through my pocket and tossed as much spare change I had onto the table then scooted up. My hand grabbed hers tightly, not wanting to let go. She looked at me, her eyes sparkling with confusion but I just led her down the aisle, my free hand wrapping around her shoulder. “You look lovely tonight, by the way. It slipped my mind whether I told you or not.”

“Oh, uh…” She looked down, her face growing as red as the nose on my face. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” I whispered and as we approached the door, the pirate seemed to be cowering in fear as he finally recognized who had the honor of taking this lovely maiden home. And it was me.

“I-I’m sorry, sir, I—“

“Step aside,” I growled.

“Yes, s-sir, I’m sorry. Of course!” He was about to piss himself.

I faked a smile and as soon as he moved, I pushed the door open and allowed her and I to walk down the narrow wooden staircase and back onto the dock. To my disappointment, she pulled from my grip and grabbed the straps of her backpack, letting out a deep sigh as she folded over. “Jesus,” She whispered.

“Are you okay?” I asked, taking a step to approach her.

My hand rested on the small of her back and I smiled softly though the red paint extended it from cheek to cheek.

“Thank you for doing that.”

“Oh, uh?” My eyes furrowed. “It’s no problem.”

“You’re not gonna try to get in my pants, right?”

“N-No! No, no. No.” I lied with a reassuring smile.

“Okay, good,” She grinned. “Guys are so weird. I swear the ugly ones are the ones that are most obsessed with me. I attract the weird ones.”

I clenched my jaw. Ouch.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted you. You—“

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay,” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my coats and I dragged my foot. “Are you gonna be okay?” I tried my best to act uninterested in her but my body was bouncing and I wanted nothing more than to throw myself onto her. She was divine when she was distressed.

“What’s your name?”

“Uhm,” I swallowed. “Buggy.”

“Oh, that’s new. I’ve never heard of that name before. Is it a stage name? To match your makeup?”

“Makeup?”

“You look like a clown. Is that your real nose?”

“Nose?” I grimaced and nodded my head. “Yes. Yes, it is real. Any other questions?”

“No, I’m sorry,” She smiled and let out a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you again, honestly.”

“You need to start watching out for yourself. If I wasn’t there, you’d have been his next plaything,” I gagged at the thought.

“Why were you there?”

“Huh?”

“You look like a pirate. So what made you sit by yourself in a bar? Where’s your crew?”

All these questions. I smiled. I loved her curiosity.

“I was a pirate. Uh, taking a bit of a break.”

“What for?”

So I can follow you around and learn every single little thing there is to know about a beautiful goddess such as yourself. “Personal reasons,” I lied. I dipped my head down and traced my foot along the wooden planks, chewing on my inner cheek. “What’s your name?”

I knew it, I just wanted to hear her say it.

“It’s Y/N. I know, it’s not nearly as cool as yours.”

I laughed aloud, bursting into a fit of cackles and giggles. “What? You’re insane. Thanks for the flattery but try to find a souvenir keychain with a name like mine.” I wiped a fake tear.

The dimming sun finally disappeared past the ocean’s horizon, leaving Y/N and I surrounded by dimly lit lanterns and the settling sea crashing waves against the old dock. I stood still while she seemed to be trembling. It was rather cold. “Uh,” I started to slip my jacket off. “Do you need it?”

“No, no, I’m good. Thank you, though. I’m gonna start heading back now,” She announced as she looked over her shoulder, squinting. “It’s getting really late.”

“Yeah, uh, it is.”

“Well, Buggy, it was nice meeting you. I’d give you a hug but no offense, you reek of beer,” Y/N smiled.

“It’s whiskey,” I remarked.

“It’s all the same to me.” I know it is.

“Do you need me to walk you home?”

“No, I’m good. We’re still strangers and I don’t feel safe with someone I’m unfamiliar with knowing my address. No offense, though.” She said ‘no offense’ a lot. And I already knew her address. I even had access to the spare key she often left underneath a clothed doormat. “Thank you for the offer.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She nodded and smiled, showing her gorgeous teeth. Her cheeks were pink, dusted by the cool air. Her hair wafted off her shoulders as the breeze picked up. Her aroma caught my attention once again.

“Can you turn around? I don’t want you seeing where I’m going.”

She’s adorable.

“Yeah, alright.”

And so I did. I turned around, making her feel a bit more at ease. I swallowed, staring straight into the endless ocean ahead of me, listening to the sounds of her soft footsteps slowly disappear.

When I turned around, she was gone.

And so was the sweet smell of vanilla and coconut.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

This 1953 Muntz Jet convertible underwent a three-year custom build under previous ownership, and it was purchased by the seller in 2021. The car is powered by a fuel-injected 5.7-liter LT1 V8 engine paired with a four-speed automatic transmission and a Ford 9″ rear end, and it is finished in Apple Pearl with a white Carson-style removable top over gray snakeskin-style Naugahyde upholstery. Features include custom bodywork, an Art Morrison frame, power-assisted steering, four-wheel disc brakes, airbag suspension, Painless Performance wiring, and more modified and fabricated details. This custom-built Muntz is now offered with a copy of Rodder’s Journal magazine featuring a story on the build and a clean California title in the name of the seller’s business.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The steel, aluminum, and fiberglass body is mounted on an Art Morrison ladder frame that was boxed and finished in semi-gloss black, and the floor was raised 3″. The exterior was repainted in a Sherwin Williams two-stage Apple Pearl mixed by the late Stan Betz. Features include a chopped Duvall-style windshield, 1950 Chevrolet headlights, dual Appleton spotlights, 1951 Ford Victoria side windows, and a white removable Carson-style top fabricated to match the height of the chopped windshield. Additional equipment includes color-matched rear fender skirts and chrome bumpers. Wear from fitting the top is noted on the rear deck.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Steel wheels sourced from a 1976 Dodge measure 15″ and are mounted with Cadillac Sombrero-style covers and whitewall tires. A matching spare fitted with a BFGoodrich Silvertown tire is mounted within a rear-mounted Continental-style chrome carrier. A Mustang II front end accommodates power rack-and-pinion steering , and the car rides on an electronically-adjustable Air Ride Technologies airbag suspension system along with 2” lowered front spindles, Strange Engineering tube shocks, a rear Panhard bar, and front and rear sway bars. The seller reports that the front control arm bushings were recently replaced.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Braking is handled by GM G-body-sourced calipers matched with Ford Granada discs up front and Ford SVO-specification calipers and discs at the rear.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The cabin was customized by Jim’s Auto Trim of San Diego, California, and features Glide bucket seats and a rear bench trimmed in gray snakeskin-style Naugahyde upholstery, along with matching treatments for the dash trim, headliner, and door panels. Additional equipment includes a 1952 Lincoln steering wheel mounted to a shortened Lincoln steering column, gray cut-pile carpet, and a Pioneer stereo housed within a custom center cubby.

The engine-turned “Hollywood” instrument cluster houses Stewart Warner gauges consisting of an 8k-rpm tachometer, a 160-mph speedometer, and auxiliary readings for fuel level, battery charge, oil pressure, and water temperature. The five-digit odometer displays 25k miles, though total chassis mileage is unknown. A Lokar pedal assembly was fitted during the build.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The Corvette-sourced 5.7-liter LT1 V8 features a polished fuel intake manifold along with billet aluminum valve covers, and additional features include an Opti-Spark distributor, a Griffin aluminum radiator, and a wiring loom sourced from Painless Performance Wiring. A set of long-tube headers are connected to a 2.5″ exhaust system equipped with dual Dynaflow mufflers. The seller reports that the oil was recently changed.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

Power is routed to the rear wheels via a four-speed 4L60E automatic transmission and a Ford 9″ rear end with with 3.55:1 gears and Strange Engineering 31-spline axles. Additional photos of the underside, drivetrain, and suspension components are presented in the gallery below.

Custom 1953 Muntz Jet Convertible

The car was featured in issue #36 of Rodders Journal magazine

[wip]

just how many official tumblr blogs are there? i just recently found out that this one and changes exists which seems less than ideal

Hey, @limelocked!

Great question! We have, we hope, a great answer for you. First up is a comprehensive list of all of current active staff blogs.

You can find ’em by simply searching each name, + @, in the search bar. (i.e., @action)

@action: Highlighting Tumblr’s long-standing social justice priorities of racial justice, mental health, equality, and beyond.

@art Exploring and featuring original artists on Tumblr.

@artistalley: Supporting local artists on Tumblr by buying directly from their storefronts.

@artistpicks: Monthly curated experience by artists and creators on Tumblr.

@best-of-reblogs: A curated collection of some of the best reblog threads on Tumblr.

@bigweekon: Tumblr’s beloved podcast highlighting recent trends, memes, and more.

@blackexcellence: A showcase of things all Black, all excellent, past and present—literature, fashion, music, historical spotlights, and beyond.

@books: Exclusive interviews and curated content from authors, publishers, and book fans.

@changes: Your go-to for new Tumblr launches, bug fixes, and updates on platform.

@creatrs: A network that connects artists, makers, and builders with brands.

@emporium: The Official Blog of the Tumblr Shop™, run by Brick Whartley back from the Island.

@entertainment: Exclusive content and features from across TV, film, and streaming.

@engineering: Behind-the-scenes work on how Tumblr engineers build Tumblr.

@fandom: Home of Fandometrics, Tumblr’s weekly ranking of entertainment properties.

@fashion: Runways to streetwear and every style in between.

@featured: Featuring exclusive content from Tumblr’s many good, good blogs.

@gaming: Exclusive and curated content across mainstream and indie games.

@getloudr An in-kind ad donation program dedicated to amplifying marginalized voices.

@happytuesday: A blog dedicated to all our Tumblr Tuesdays, posts featuring users based on a weekly theme.

@humans: A blog we use so we can reply in the notes of various posts.

@kpop: Exclusive content and a curated experience of K-Pop on Tumblr.

@labs: A way for engineers at Tumblr to experiment in public.

@music: Exclusive content and features on all your favorite musical artists.

@postitforward: Supporting the community with resources for mental health, self-care, and wellness.

@prideplus: Your home for all things LGBTQIA+ on Tumblr.

@radar: Sharing four pieces of original posts from Tumblr artists per day, hand-curated by our team from across the globe.

@staff: The ultimate source for big news, platform updates, and everything that makes Tumblr, Tumblr.

@support: News, tips, and nerdy details from Tumblr Support.

@tee: A blog from your friendly neighborhood Tumblr user, Tee.

@todayontumblr: Daily curated content around trending topics on Tumblr.

@wip: Dedicated to feedback and questions from Tumblr users to Tumblr staff.

There’s more. For our global audiences, you can find all the localized Staff blogs. They’re linked here!

We also have a carousel in the feed somewhere called “Official Blogs,” but it might be that we need to make that more obvious or provide a dedicated feed or page somewhere.

Leave that last point with us, but we hope that helps! Thanks for your question, and have a good day.

(And a tip of the hat to you, @lizzieonka! Consider them tagged)

Best,

—Caragh, Cates, and Cyle

[vintagetvstars]

Claude Rains Vs. William Hopper

Propaganda

Claude Rains - (Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Wagon Train, Rawhide) - "The reason I got into Old Hollywood and started studying theatre and film! He's such a little cutie as well as a smoking hot, velvet voiced morsel of evil - he's that good and can play both so easily!..." text propaganda continued below the cut.

William Hopper - (Perry Mason) - "Why do I love him? The list abounds..." text propaganda continued below the cut.

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Claude Rains:

While he might be more famous for his movie roles(like Casablanca, The Invisible Man, Lawrence of Arabia, Now, Voyager, and Mr. Skeffington to name a few!), he was also a television star in his own right! He had lots of guest spots on various shows but in the tv-realm, he's probably the most well known for his work for "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" and was a frequent collaborator with Hitch himself, having the spotlight for five episodes! My favorite tv performance of his was playing Father Amion in the episode "The Horseplayer", where he plays the kindest priest who gets taken for a ride and it's so heartbreaking to see him in tears where he confesses that it's his fault the church's funds were used for less than better means (but it all works out in the end!). It's such an honest performance and it's a refreshing change from all his evil villians (but we love them anyway!) he'd done in the past. Another favorite performance of mine is his performance as Leonard Eldridge in the episode "The Door Without a Key", a seemingly amnesiac old man who makes a bond with a lost boy in a police station. They're adorable together and I found myself tearing up a little when they both confess how lonely they are in the world.

William Hopper -

William Hopper was a tall guy (6'3"!) but such a gentle sweetheart. He was in acting for the majority of his life (barring serving as a frogman in WWII and working as a car salesman post-war for a few years), but he really stepped into his own with his role as Private Detective Paul Drake in the Perry Mason TV Series from 1957-1966. William Hopper actually didn't really love the Hollywood scene, mostly because he grew up with it since he was a child. His mother was Hedda Hopper and she really wanted him to be an actor and became quite overbearing about it, but he was more of an introverted soul. He first started out in films in his early 20s, but William Hopper always felt like people were giving him jobs because of his mother's influence with her gossip column. HOWEVER, after the war and after William Hopper sold cars for a few years, he came back to acting but he said he was only going to come back if 1) he did it his way/gave himself to it and 2) his mother stayed out of his career so he could make it on his own. Those two things happened, and William Hopper made his own way.

His big major starring role in a television series was, without a doubt, Perry Mason. He was Private Detective Paul Drake. To take on that role, William Hopper personally went out and made friends with Private Detectives to try to bring their experiences to his role. William Hopper also was credited by Alan Alda for showing the acting world how to shine as an actor without demanding the spotlight all the time. Alda said: “William Hopper’s ability to be present in a scene without demanding the spotlight is an art form in itself. He showed us that one can shine without the blinding glare.” Which, I think, really was a big testament to William Hopper playing a private detective--- he was always commanding the series and making the moves and observations that led to finding the guilty person in a criminal case, but he was always doing so in a way that was true to the work of a private detective: hiding and working in plain sight.

Other fun facts about William Hopper that make him so lovable: he LOVED the beach and loved fishing and swimming. When he wasn't filming for Perry Mason (they would film 6 days a week for 1 episode during filming), William Hopper would go to the beach. According to an interview, William Hopper's personal wardrobe was mostly casual clothes: swim trunks, sandals, and sweatshirts. He took all his formal wear to the Perry Mason set and just kept it there to wear when he played Paul Drake. He said if he ever had to go to a formal occasion, he would just go drive to the Perry Mason set and pick out one of his outfits. But the formal wear he had was bold! He wore houndstooth jackets, various checked patterns, and herringbone. If he wasn't at the beach, he loved to go to baseball games. In school, he played sports: swimming, baseball, boxing, and basketball.

he's the guy on the far left - I know his face is hard to see here but I'm going for the Hot Vintage Man bare shoulders vibe:

I spoke before about how William Hopper made a lasting impact as an actor portraying Paul Drake and shining without demanding the spotlight, but he also made a lasting contribution to Paul Drake's character. Paul Drake was a character based on Erle Stanley Gardner's books, which were published between 1933-1973. When William Hopper got the role as Paul Drake in the Perry Mason TV show from 1957-1966, Gardner was still writing the books. When asked about playing Paul Drake, William Hopper said: "If they thought they were getting Paul Drake, they were mistaken. Because what they got was me, nobody else. I play him my way. Now I'm amused to read Gardner's new books. Paul Drake comes out like me."

He made such a lasting impression on Paul’s character on TV that even the author of the books started writing Paul like William Hopper's interpretation!

There's also an anecdote from the wardrobe supervisor on the set of Perry Mason who said William Hopper was a very kind man, a good guy, and a good actor. William Hopper's cast mate, Raymond Burr, once said that "William Hopper was even more precise, more good looking, more fun" in real life than what we, the viewers, got to see him on screen.

To add some more to Raymond Burr's point that William Hopper was "fun", he liked to play practical jokes with his castmates on Perry Mason. In an interview, William Hopper said "You might say there's never a serious moment except on camera." He and all his castmates on the set loved to play jokes with each other to make each other laugh. So he was just a fun guy to be around, apparently!

Also, in the final season of Perry Mason, William Hopper cut a tendon on his foot while filming and he wound up in a cast. They had to rewrite the final episodes so that William Hopper didn't have to do a lot of running around like he usually does. Well, in all those final episodes, you wouldn't even tell that William Hopper was in a cast and having to move around in crutches. And I realize that yeah, they rewrote the scripts to help, but William Hopper doesn't waiver once and doesn't let on about his injury. Plus, according to an interview, the cast attached a little horn to William Hopper's crutches and William Hopper would honk the horn when he was coming to let his cast mates know he was there. Which I just kind of think is sweet.

idk I feel like his hands are pretty beautiful here:

Also, I talked before about William Hopper struggling a bit in finding his own way in acting. It wasn't really until he got into TV shows and with Perry Mason that he felt like he found his place and enjoying acting. Before, William talked about being nervous in front of the camera, but it was working on a LIVE TV show with Claire Trevor when he said, "I was so scared I canceled. I swore I'd never act again as long as I lived. Then I thought, what the heck, they can't shoot me, and walked on the set. Something happened then. It was as if someone had surgically removed the nerves."

And when he talks about his role as Paul Drake, he said, "I'm very fond of him, and as long as Perry Mason is around on television defending various and sundry clients, Paul and I will be very happy to be around helping him."

So he really came into his own as Paul Drake, which I really love about William Hopper. To know he found his way and made something he felt proud of.

Also in terms of William Hopper being physically attractive, I mean, he was so incredible. He once said he was just a guy with premature grey hair and a non throbbing actor, but I personally think he's a heart throb. He had the most loveable smile, broad shoulders, a deep, sultry voice, amazing chest hair (lol), and like.. really absurdly beautiful hands?!? He was also really tall and strong but also by every account he was really gentle and sweet. Larger than life. Sometimes in the Perry Mason shows, William Hopper would swim and he has an incredible swim scene that rivals Mr. Darcy. He's in swim trunks and wins a swim race and comes dripping out of the pool to make anyone swoon. I just love him!

[aces-and-angels]

ART CAMPAIGN BOOST SUBMISSIONS:

edit: i hit the image limit for this post, so any new additions will be included here

the tag is starting to get kinda crowded (great problem, dw). i just thought compiling them all here would make things easier for everyone to find! all of the art displayed below is free to use for the purposes of promoting vetted gfm's here on tumblr. no credit is needed unless specified (marked = ***). if you have any questions regarding how to craft a post using any of the art provided -> please do not hesitate to reach out to me! note: please press follow post as i will most likely need to update this masterlist from time to time.

some info is below the cut on how to best utilize this material. please read it in its entirety before using any artwork. thank you 🖤

learn how to make art for this project here:

---

this project has gained a lot of momentum and has shown very promising results. the level of engagement once art is attached to a vetted gfm increases significantly. you will see what i mean as i have linked example posts of how to best use these pieces to help families in need.

i currently have a list of over 20+ families that i am spotlighting in my own personal progress tracker (the list has gotten so long that i now need to make a second version to accommodate all the families trying to get in contact with me).

this art campaign boost is truly meant to be utilized by anyone. i would sincerely appreciate it if y'all could take some time and pick maybe 1-2 people from this list and use the art below to create your own signal boost posts on the families' behalf. as someone who is periodically tracking their progress- i know that donation rates have slowed for a number of them. i am one person and can only do so much on my own. the essence of this initiative is to get more people to mobilize as a collective. it will take everyone to get on board in order for these families to be able to reach their goals. that means spotlighting their accounts/campaigns periodically.

you need to keep up the momentum.

the individuals you are helping currently live in areas with minimal internet connection, meaning it is very difficult to spotlight themselves on their own. especially since this site is continuously suppressing/deleting their accounts. they need you to interact with their content. tumblr isn't like other social media sites. it's known for being very 'anti-algorithm' and it's common culture for many of us to not really care about our levels of engagement (i.e. follower count/amount of notes per post). it's very hard for your own content to "break" your inner circle of followers and gain traction if the topic of the post is not "popular" or "trending" these families are not operating on this site the same way you are. you may be using this platform as a means to "just vibe" but they are using it as a desperate attempt to raise essential funding to save their lives. the importance that their posts be elevated cannot be overstated. anyone who has ever created any sort of og content here knows how quickly a post can die out if no one interacts with it. this cannot happen with them.

tips for making your own signal boost post* (*for vetted campaigns):

-> make it easy to read + eye-catching: the problem i am seeing when you search many of these families' accounts is that their "tag" (username of their account) is full of the same types of posts (i.e. a generic response to their initial message to another person on tumblr) <- aka it is very easy for people to tune out which is the opposite of what we want to happen. creating your OWN posts in response to their asks allows the art to appear FIRST when people look up someone's account via tumblr's search bar, which will attract more attention to their accounts. it also forces people who are making these posts to actually sit down and read the stories they are sharing with the rest of their mutuals/lurkers alike -> include verification sources: the main reason people are searching for these accounts is b/c they are trying to see if it is okay to reblog/share their campaign with their own following. if you address this plainly and early on in your post that includes artwork -> people are more likely to interact -> tag the account you are promoting: please include the families' account as one of your #'s so it will appear when you search for their names on tumblr. also try @'ing their account in your post so it'll be easier for these families to find your work. some of them are incredibly new to the platform and may not be aware of all its features. something that you may find intuitive may not be as easily understood for these individuals. your role is to make them as easy as possible to find for others so they can gain more support. --- don't have time to type out a whole post for a family on their behalf? -> interact with one of theirs! attach something nice/helpful to their posts so it is more readily available for others to share. the same rules apply from above. as i said before, some of these accounts are brand spanking new and are not formatted in the same ways as others that may be more well-versed on how tumblr operates in terms of promoting their campaigns. (for example: even if the account has been vetted/verified by multiple trusted individuals- the owners of that account may not know to include that info in their posts about their campaign every single time they post. you can make their lives easier by including that info for them by reblogging one of their og posts and adding the necessary info on their behalf)

you can also find a more comprehensive list of vetted campaigns by el-shab-hussein/nabulsi here <- their list is now over 200+ with several campaigns that are "in the red" (very low in funding). please do not hesitate to try to spotlight anyone from this list as well!

el-shab-hussein also has a masterpost pinned here with additional campaigns (including those for other countries like sudan)

alright i've explained enough- time for the art!

artist: @rhq274 | @rhq2744 *** free to use, credit required meet raghad (read and share full post here) Hello, I am Raghad Qanou, a medical student from Gaza City. My people and I have been subjected to genocide for more than 230 days. My family and I have lived through various types of torture and inhumane conditions. This link is my only chance for me and my family to escape death and try to start over. This is not easy. But we are trying, and we would be happy to have you help save our lives and our future. instructions to utilize artwork: those who wish to share raghad's art MUST do ALL of the following: -> follow raghad on tumblr @rhq274 | @rhq2744 -> like + reblog one or more of her posts seen on her account that promotes her fundraiser (you may also include additional art shown below to help further boost her campaign; see example) once those actions detailed above are completed, you may use raghad's art to promote her campaign. *if you are utilizing this art for another campaign that is not raghad's -> you must also mention + link her fundraiser as well /// for those able: please consider donating to raghad's campaign here (vetted; no 221 on el-shab-hussein/nabulsi's sheet)

artist: me lol free to use, no credit required example

artist: @lampyri free to use, no credit required example

artist: @aria-ashryver free to use, no credit required example

artist: @monmonp0k free to use, credit not required- but if given, is appreciated example

artist: @juudaimes-true-form free to use, no credit required example

artist: @gaiuskamilah free to use, no credit required example

artist: @marnota free to use on all social media platforms (i.e. tumblr, insta, twitter, etc), no credit required example

artist: @marquainequeen free to use, no credit required example

artist: @palms-upturned free to use, no credit required example

artisit: @inkyswampbones free to use, no credit required example

[haerenven]

RED HAIR, CHERRY LIPS

summary. When a sea emperor and captain of red-haired pirate fall for a stripper dancer

warning. Mention of profanity, mention of male genitalia, violence

The Red-Hair Pirates stopped on a certain new island where bars and night shows were quite popular there, they stopped on one of those popular nights shows clubs for drinks, until a fine looking guy with suit show up on stage, “ladies and gentleman’s, welcome for the highest finest show for this season, the 'rude nude' show, give us huge welcome on stage and raise your toast’s for the one and only ‘MISS LADY, Y/N” currently performing in front of the pirates but Shanks suddenly caught off guard by a lady show up with all spotlights on her mesmerizing beauty aura.

Shanks's attention was snapped away from the male performer as a new figure stepped onto the stage, a vision of radiant beauty and alluring stage presence. The spotlight fell on her, the glare of the light illuminating every feature, every curve, every movement as she moved with a grace and confidence that was unmistakably captivating. She commanded the stage with an aura that demanded attention, and Shanks couldn't help but be drawn in by her magnetic presence, his eyes following her every move intently.

High-Looking gorgeous incredible lady , with perfect seductive hourglass feminine body with her allure stunning aura, She is an angel on Earth, a vision of unparalleled beauty and grace. Her flawless hourglass figure is the epitome of femininity, her curves perfectly defined and in all the right places. Her aura is a captivating force, drawing the eye and holding the attention of all who behold her. From the way she carries herself to the way she moves, there is an allure that is both captivating and seductive, a presence that is impossible to ignore.

The stripper's dance outfit was as flawless as her performance. It consisted of a high-cut fishnet bodysuit that hugged her body in all the right places, showcasing her perfect hourglass figure. The sheer black material revealed glimpses of her smooth, taut skin, adding an air of sexiness and allure to the look. On her feet, she wore a pair of shiny black stilettos that made her legs look impossibly long and toned. Her makeup was dramatic and seductive, with dark eye liner and a bold red lipstick to enhance her features.

She stepped gracefully towards the pole, her movements fluid and sinuous like a snake. She wrapped her hands around the pole, gripping it tightly as she raised herself up, her body arching perfectly as she twirled around. Her hips moved in a slow, sensuous circle, her movements both languid and seductive. She twirled and twirled, her body moving with a grace that defied gravity, each twist and spin a performance of pure elegance and sexuality. As she danced, her eyes flicked towards the audience, full of a sultry, alluring gaze.

Shanks' eyes were transfixed on you, he could practically hear his crew members' jaws drop as they watched your every move, but Shanks couldn't look away. He was mesmerized by your beauty, both in looks and in the way you danced. Your every move was like a work of art, and the way you moved spoke of a grace and sensuality he has never encountered before. He was both intrigued and captivated by you. He watched you intently, his arms crossed as he leaned against the back of the bar as you continued your dance.

As the performance continued, Shanks found himself enthralled by your every move, his eyes tracing your every step, watching in complete fascination as you danced, twirling and spinning around the pole like it was an extension of your own body. The air in the room was electric, the atmosphere charged with the energy of everyone watching, entranced by your performance. It was clear you knew how to command the room and had the audience under your spell, including Shanks himself.

The woman's slim hourglass body glides across the smooth iron pole, her movements a mix of fluid, sinuous grace and a hungry, desperate need. Her fingers trail lightly along the cold metal, her touch both sensuous and needy as she arches her body around the pole, her skin glistening in the dim light like a beacon. She grinds against the iron, her hips twisting and gyrating in a sultry, seductive dance, the heat of her desire visible in the hungry look in her eyes.

Shanks found himself leaning closer, his eyes glued to your every move. The way you moved around the pole was both mesmerizing and enchanting, and he couldn't tear his eyes away. As you ground against the pole with your hips, the heat in your eyes only added to the sensuality of the performance. Shanks could feel his heart racing, and he wasn't the only one. He could hear his crew members muttering amongst themselves, clearly in awe of your skills.

The woman's movements grow wilder and more desperate, her body contorting in ways that seemed to defy physics as she writhes on the pole. As she spun around, her leg hooked around the slender bar, her body hanging upside down. She arched her back, her hair falling in a curtain around her face, her body twisted in a way that only accented her already stunning curves. She spun and twirled a few more times before sliding down the pole

The show had reached its peak, the woman's energy and confidence flowing through her every movement. With a final, spectacular move, she brought the performance to a close, her body coming to a stop on the floor, her body posed in a seductive, captivating stance and her chest heaving as she drew in labored breaths, the A hush fell over the audience, a collective gasp of admiration and appreciation for the breathtaking performance they had just witnessed.

everyone was stunned and entranced by your performance. Shanks found himself at a loss for words, his eyes still on you. He wasn't the only one either, the whole crew sat in stunned silence, unable to tear their eyes away from you. It wasn't just the performance that had them in awe, it was the sheer presence you commanded. Shanks was completely caught off guard by your aura and your undeniable charm.

She stepped off the stage, her body still buzzing with the energy of the performance she had just given. The audience's applause followed her as she walked down a dimly lit hallway, the sound gradually fading as she moved further away from the stage. She was now backstage, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the behind-the-scenes crew, the sound of stagehands preparing for the next act filling the air.

Shanks and his crew remained seated at the bar, watching as you disappeared into the backstage area. Shanks couldn't shake the feeling of awe and intrigue that had come over him during the performance.

Shanks watched as you walked off the stage, disappearing behind the curtains. He stayed sitting, his mind still reeling from the performance you just gave. He could still see your every move in his mind, the way you twisted and twirled around the pole, the grace and sensuality in each move. He couldn't get you out of his mind.

He turned to his crew who were still stunned into silence. "That was quite a performance, eh?" Shanks said, trying to sound casual, Seeing his crew members were in such awe.

He turned to his first mate, Benn Beckman, who was sitting next to him, breaking the silence. "Have you ever seen anything like that, Beck?..”

Benn took a drag from his cigarette., his eyes following your path backstage. When he blew smoke in the air, "quite impressive" he responded, a hint of admiration in his voice. and his poker face

completely focused on you. He watched as you moved through the backstage area, the hustle and bustle of the crew around you only serving to contrast with your own aura. Shanks couldn't believe how easily he was drawn to you, and as he watched you disappear behind a door, he found himself filled with a strange mixture of curiosity and desire to know more about you.

I was backstage, surrounded by my staff as they helped me into a robe to cover up. Then, my manager, Manon, appeared next to me, a smirk playing on her lips as she took a draw of her cigarette. "Well, that was quite a performance out there, dollface," she commented, a twinkle in her eye. I smiled back, still feeling the adrenaline rush from the show. "Just doing what I do best," I replied, shrugging my shoulders modestly.

Manon chuckled in that low, sultry tone of hers, blowing a stream of smoke from her lips. She looked me up and down, a smirk on her face. "You did amazing out there," she repeated, her gaze lingering on me. I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my chest at her words. "Oh, you noticed?" I replied, feigning innocence with a playful smile. "You look quite good today yourself," I added, admiring her attire for the night.

Manon took another draw of her cigarette and exhaled, a puff of smoke swirling around her like a protective cloud. "Yeah, I noticed," she replied, her eyes never leaving me. "You have a way of catching people's attention, dollface, always have." I felt a flush of pleasure at her words, the compliment bolstering my confidence. "Well, I do try," I replied, a sly smile playing on my lips. Manon threw her head back with a light laugh, the sound low.

“and about my good mood for tonight, well…let’s say there was a wealthy great guy wh—“, I interrupted Manon as she started to speak, my voice firm. "Manon, no. For the last time im telling you I'm a dancer, not a 'slut,'" I said, my tone firm but polite. Manon sighed in response, frustrated with my stubborn attitude. "You are such an airhead, you know," she replied, shaking her head. "If I had your face and body, and all these stupid wealthy guys willing to spend all their money on me, I wouldn't be complaining," Manon continued, her words laced with a hint of envy and mock.

I rolled my eyes at her words, unamused by her remark. "Well, I have standards," I replied, my tone still firm. "I'm not just here to entertain these rich bastards and their wallets. I have a bit more dignity than that." Manon laughed, a cold and bitter sound. "Dignity? In this place? You're in the wrong business, dollface" she said, taking another draw of her cigarette.

I felt a pang of disappointment at her words, knowing that she was partially right. The world of stripping and dance was full of compromises and sacrifices, and it was easy to lose sight of one's dignity in pursuit of success. But I was determined to maintain my self-respect while still succeeding in my craft. "Maybe," I conceded, my voice quiet. "But I don't want to be just another piece of meat for these rich guys to drool over. I have to hold onto something.”

I had had enough of her persistent attempts to convince me to lower my standards. I squared my shoulders and looked her dead in the eye, my voice firm and unwavering. "Listen to me, Manon," I said, my tone final. "If you wanted that much money, then go for them, and let them fill YOU with their old cocks. I don’t care of what do you want. That's not what I want."

Manon looked taken aback by my bluntness, her eyes wide. "And for the last time, I'm telling you," I paused, gathering my thoughts before continuing. "Don't talk to me about this ever again," I repeated, my eyes narrowed. "And trust me, it will be the last time you see me if you do.” My voice was steady and resolute, leaving no room for doubt or negotiation. Manon stared at me for a moment, clearly shocked by my response. Then, without a word, she turned on her heel and walked away, her footsteps fading into the distance.

I let out a deep breath, feeling a mixture of relief and tension. I knew that standing up to Manon like that would have consequences, but I couldn't let her pressure me into something I wasn't comfortable with. I stood there for a moment, the silence of the backstage area surrounding me.

I made my way to the changing room, relieved to have a moment alone to collect my thoughts and change out of my stage costume. The adrenaline from the performance was slowly ebbing away, leaving me feeling both emotionally and physically drained. As I entered the changing room, I closed the door behind me with a soft click and sat down on a small chair in front of a mirror.

I took a deep breath, looking at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was slightly disheveled from the performance, my makeup smudged by the sweat. But my eyes were still bright and alert, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I began to unbutton my costume, slowly and methodically, peeling the fabric away from my skin.

Shanks was sitting in the club bar enjoying his crew usual silly activities, until catch his attention the same stripper came out of backstage, As you stepped out of the stage room, Shanks' eyes widened in surprise. Your outfit was both classy and rebellious, somehow managing to match your aura perfectly

white silk top, with a few buttons unbuttoned, teased at her cleavage and emphasized the generous curves of her figure. Overneath the shirt, a burgundy leather jacket provided a touch of edge, creating a contrast that was both captivating and intriguing. A pair of black pants hugged her legs, accentuating her toned physique. Her hair was swept up into a high ponytail, showing off the confident line of her neck. Smoky eye makeup added an air of mystery to her gaze, while a sleek neck-high heel gave her an extra boost of height. Glinting

The silk of her white top feels cool against her skin as she moves, the fabric caressing her every curve. The unbuttoned buttons reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage, a subtle tease that's both provocative and playful. The burgundy leather jacket slung over her shoulders adds a touch of ruggedness to the otherwise delicate silk, creating a pleasing contrast in textures. The black pants cling to her legs like a second skin, emphasizing the shape of her thighs and the lean lines of her calves.

Shanks couldn't help but let out a low whistle, his eyes taking in every inch of your appearance. Your outfit was elegant and provocative, hugging your figure in all the right places. He could feel his heart rate increase just looking at you, and his crew members were no better. They were already whispering to each other, their eyes lingering on your form.

Shanks downed the rest of his drink before standing up. He made his way towards you, his eyes fixed on yours as he approached. He could feel himself getting more and more enthralled by you, your presence was both captivating and tantalizing. His crew members were still watching, their eyes flickering between you and their captain, curious to see what was about to unfold.

As she was minding her own business, Shanks came to a stop in front of you, she suddenly found herself stopped in her tracks by a tall figure blocking her path, his eyes roaming over you again before he spoke. "Impressive performance back there," he said, a hint of a smile on his lips. His voice was low and gravelly, but there was no mistaking the admiration in his tone.

She looked up at the man with a bemused expression, her eyebrow raised in question. "Um, thanks?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion at the unexpected situation.

Shanks chuckled at your response, seemingly amused by your reaction. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he continued to regard you with a cool, appraising gaze. "You don't seem very surprised," he observed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

She couldn't help but find his reaction perplexing. Why was this man blocking her path, and why did he seem so nonchalant about it? She took a step back, her eyes locked on his face as she tried to make sense of the situation. "Should I be?" she countered, her voice steady despite the growing unease she felt in her chest.

when he parted his lips to respond, She let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes, preparing to step around him and continue on her way. But before she could move past him, he shifted his weight, his body blocking her path once more.

As he blocked her path, preventing her from moving past him, she let out an exasperated sigh, her annoyance evident in her expression. With a swift and graceful motion, she pulled out a cigarette, placing it between her red-lipstick lips. The sight of her lips wrapped around the cigarette's edge was nothing short of seductive, and as she lit it and inhaled a slow, measured draw, it seemed to only serve to heighten the tension between them. Exhaling a plume of smoke, she turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised in what almost seemed like a challenge. "Would you buy me a drink?"

Shanks watched you as you pulled out a cigarette and lit it, his gaze unwavering as he took in your every movement. The way your lips wrapped around the filter was strangely captivating, and the sight of you exhaling a plume of smoke only added to the tension that was building between you. His lips curled into a small smirk as he heard your request, and he responded in a low, gravelly voice, "Sure, I'll get you a drink. As long as you tell me your name first."

She took another drag of the cigarette, her gaze never leaving him. The air around them seemed to crackle with a simmering tension. When he agreed to buy her a drink, she smirked, the corners of her lips twitching slightly. She exhaled a cloud of smoke and considered his question for a moment. "And if I don't want to tell you my name yet?" she asked, her voice low and provocative. "What then?"

Shanks chuckled at your response, clearly enjoying the game you were playing. With a nonchalant shrug, he replied, "Then I suppose I could just keep calling you 'dancer', seeing as you seem to be avoiding telling me your name." His eyes darkened a bit as he continued to regard you, his gaze roaming over your figure slowly and deliberately. "But I have a feeling you're not the type to give in so easily."

She let out another exaggerated sigh, clearly feigning annoyance. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," she replied, her voice holding a hint of impatience. "Just buy me a drink." Her tone was brusque, yet there was something almost seductive in the way she spoke, as if she was trying to tempt him into satisfying her request.

As they made their way to the bar of the club, the music surrounding them was a thumping, pulsating beat that seemed to vibrate through the air. The dimly lit space was alive with the energy of the dancers and clubgoers, creating an atmosphere that was both exhilarating and electric.

Shanks led you to the bar, keeping a close eye on you as you walked. The thumping music and dim lighting only added to the sensual atmosphere, and Shanks couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. He gestured for you to take a seat on one of the stools before signaling to the bartender for two drinks.

As the drinks arrived, Shanks picked up both glasses and handed one to you. As he did so, his fingers brushed against yours, the touch deliberate and subtle. The contact sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn't help but notice the way your eyes flickered at the brief touch.

She took the glass from him, her fingers briefly touching his, sending a subtle shiver through her as well. As she took a sip, she couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lingered on her face, studying every curve and contour intently. The air between them was charged, the chemistry undeniable.

He took a seat beside you, placing his glass on the countertop before turning to face you again. His eyes were fixed on yours, studying you intently as he took a slow sip of his drink. The air around you felt charged with a strange mix of tension, curiosity, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. "You know," he said, his voice low and gravelly, "Most women would be tripping over themselves to tell me their name by now."

She raised an eyebrow and regarded him with a sly smirk, clearly not one to be outdone by his charming words. “Is that so?” she replied, her voice dripping with feigned nonchalance. “Well, no one care.” As she took another slow sip of her drink, her gaze locked with his, a flicker of challenge in her eyes.

Shanks chuckled at your response, his eyes glimmering with amusement. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping an octave lower as he replied, "Oh, I have a feeling you don't care for many things, do you?", There was a hint of admiration in his tone, even if it was delivered with a hint of mockery. He took another slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours as he continued to stare at you, studying your every expression.

“Oi, captain, she got you there” yasopp said mockingly, and all of his crew laughed with their usual silly attitude,

Shanks shot a quick glare at Yasopp, a silent warning in his eyes, which only served to make his crew laugh even louder. He didn’t take his eyes off you, even as he responded to his crew. “Quiet, you idiots,” he called out in a mock-scolding tone. He shook his head, then turned back to you with a smirk. “Don’t mind them, they always like to act like children.”

With a nonchalant flick of her wrist, she exhaled a cloud of smoke, her eyes never leaving his face. "Trust me," she insisted, her voice steady and unwavering. "I'm here for a free drink, nothing more." As she spoke, she took another sip from her glass, her cool demeanor hinting that she wasn't intimidated by his presence.

Shanks chuckled once more at your words, his eyes darkening further with intrigue, He leaned back a bit, his arms resting on the countertop behind him, and regarded you with a sly smile. “A free drink, huh? That's all you're here for?” His voice was a mix of mockery and genuine curiosity.

She let out a low chuckle, a hint of amusement in her voice. "You think I came here for you?" she repeated, her tone laced with mockery. "Oh please, I'm here for the free drink, not your charming presence.”

Shanks laughed at your sarcastic tone, the sound deep and rich. He raised an eyebrow, his eyes never leaving yours. “Oh, I’m crushed.” He feigned a heartbreak, placing a hand on his chest dramatically.

“But tell me,” he continued, leaning in closer. “If not for my charming presence, then why did you let me buy you a drink?”

She took another sip of her drink, a sly grin playing at the corners of her lips as she replied, "For free drinks. Plural. I didn't come all the way here just for one measly glass.”

Shanks chuckled once more, his eyes glimmering with amusement at your wit. He found your unabashed bluntness to be both refreshing and captivating, He took a slow sip of his own drink, his gaze still locked on your face. “I see your game, you know that, right? You’re trying to finesse me for as many free drinks as you can get.”

She leaned in a bit closer, her voice dropping to a mock-whisper. "You want the truth?” She didn't wait for his response and continued, "I am 100% here for the free drinks. I'm not playing any dumb games or tryna scam you."

Her attention was suddenly diverted, her gaze shifting to a small commotion nearby. A lady was being harassed by a man whose behavior was nothing short of repulsive. The woman was obviously uncomfortable and trying to make him leave, but he persisted, with a smug expression on his face, Her expression darkened A mix of anger and concern passed over her features, as she quickly throw her useless cigarette away and stand up confidently with her slim hourglass frame, and made her way to the table where both of the lady and the disgusting guy were at.

Shanks' gaze followed yours, his eyebrows furrowing as he saw the commotion unfolding. As you stood up abruptly and made your way to the table, he found himself strangely drawn to your confident stride. He watched as you approached the couple, curious to see what you were going to do.

Meanwhile, his crew members had noticed the commotion as well. They exchanged wary glances, uncertain about what was unfolding but ready to leap into action if necessary.

Disgusting Guy spoke with his devilish gross smirk "Come on, sweet cheeks, give me some attention. You know you want to.", the lady was yelling even when music in background was hidden her voice "Stay away from me! I already told you, I'm not interested."

Her eyes, a mesmerizing pool of black with a hint of smoky shadow, narrowed as she took in the scene unfolding before her. Her lips, painted a deep scarlet, curved into a slight frown as she spoke up, her voice even and cool. "What's going on here?" she repeated, her tone betraying a trace of steel beneath the velvet.

Disgusting Guy glanced at you "Mind ya own damn business, missy." He shot a dismissive glare at you, his eyes roaming over your figure with a lewd expression. The lady, meanwhile, looked visibly relieved to see you.

She met his glare with an unwavering stare, her eyes cool and unflinching. Her expression hardened at his disrespectful tone, her features now rigid and cold. Her gaze then shifted to the lady beside him, noting the relief on her face,Her voice was sharp and authoritative, cutting through the tension in the air like a knife. "When I see you stop annoying this lady,” she repeated, her eyes never leaving his face. Her stance was firm, her body almost coiled with tension, yet her expression revealed an unyielding determination to not back down.

“Oh, ain't you bold. I ain't annoying no one. She's just playing hard to get, ain't ya, sweetheart?" He turned to the lady, his eyes filled with mock kindness. The lady seemed uncomfortable by his blatant display of disregard for her feelings.

Her jaw clenched at his words, her eyes narrowing into a cold glare. The air around her seemed to drop a few degrees, her voice now as frigid as an icy frost. "Hear me out, bitch," she retorted, her voice low and steady. "You are here to take off your clothes and dance around a pole because you’re a 'whore'. And I'm here to have a good time without dealing with your disrespect."

As Shanks and his crew listened to the exchange, Shanks felt a growing sense of unease. He was about to get up and intervene when he saw her sudden, swift attack. His heart skipped a beat as he watched her handle the man with a surprising amount of skill and confidence. In that moment, he realized he really didn’t know anything about her, despite feeling compelled to defend her just a moment ago…BUT

She held his gaze with icy determination, the sharp lines of her makeup accentuating her fierce expression. Her movements were smooth and deliberate as she pulled out a cigarette, her lips wrapping around the tip in a way that sent a shiver down his spine. With a slow, measured draw, she lit the cigarette, letting it dangle from her fingers as she exhaled a steady stream of smoke. In a flash, she grabbed a glass cup, turned to look at the lady for a brief moment, and then swung it hard at the guy's head. In a swift, decisive move, she grabbed his hair from the back of his head and yanked it, forcing his head downwards. With a forceful push, she slammed his face onto the hard surface of the table. The impact made a loud thud, the sound reverberating through the air as his body slumped over, unconscious, and she casually took the cigarette back between her fingers

Shanks' eyes widened in surprise, completely taken off guard by your swift and unexpected maneuver. His crew members had also turned their attention to the scene, their jaws dropping in shock. He found himself frozen in place for a moment, his mind racing to catch up with what he had just witnessed. You had handled the situation with such speed and precision that it was almost mesmerizing. He couldn’t help but feel a strange mixture of fascination and admiration for the way you had just taken charge and dealt with that guy.

“I need her in my ship” shanks muttered with his glance still placed on you, benn smoke a drug of his cigarette and blow it slowly in air “uh ha?”, Shanks chuckled at Benn's skeptical reaction, his eyes never leaving her as she stood over the unconscious man. "as a crew member," Shanks repeated, his voice holding a note of determination.

His crew all looked at him incredulously, clearly surprised by his statement. "WHAT?!" they echoed, their voices laced with disbelief.

Note. Yep, you know what sly, I ate this, anyone this is kind part one, KINDA, cause I’m not sure yet what next but I love this until now, so write your thoughts and what do you think or feel about this .⋆𐙚 🍒₊˚⊹💋˙✧˖°

[diyasgarden]

skincare

As a teen Art has no skincare routine whatsoever. He literarily washes his face with a bar of soap and somehow his skin looks fine. You find it remarkable (and mildly frustrating) how this is even possible. As he gets into his professional career, he develops a routine. It's simple just a proper cleanser, serum, and moisturizer. Really with how much he in a spotlight, he is a little more aware of how he looks. This makes him want to feel more presentable and thus he picks up the routine. You actually helped him, even though you think he'd look perfect regardless. At night you guys both do your skincare routine together.

Tashi has a full, proper skincare routine. It's a combination of habits she picked up from her mom growing up and then things she learned about as an adult. She does it each morning and each night, without fail. She also always makes sure you're doing your skincare routine. Feeling lazy and think it's okay to sleep in your makeup just this once? Nope. She is making you get up and do your routine. If you don't have a routine, she is developing you one. And if she thinks your routine could be better, she is telling you how.

Patrick has never had a skincare routine. Like Art growing up he washes his face with a bar of soap and calls it a day. Unlike Art he continues this well intro adulthood too. You try to get him to start a routine, but he says he doesn't need one. This is his way of saying he is too lazy for it. Even though he does not feel like he needs a routine, he loves watching you do your routine. Similar to when you put on makeup, he sits and watches you, asking what every little thing is. Sometimes when he does you do your own routine on him, which he always seems to enjoy (specifically the face masks, because he finds them funny). Too bad he isn't motivated enough to do it himself.

[ferigrieving]

cardinal sin.

⊹ ࣪our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.

a.n direct consequence of being filipino

⤷ masterlist ; requests open ; 3.3k ; i. envy (here); ii. greed

touya todoroki was not religious

in the quiet corners of his mind, he envied those who were. it was a comforting illusion, an assurance of order and meaning in a chaotic world. there was always something to count on, something to blame. you knew where you were going to go after you died, and you knew what was waiting for you. but to a man like him, it felt as elusive as a whisper in the wind, slipping through his fingers whenever he really needed it most.

catholicism was a quiet undercurrent in a sea of traditions that make up japan, yet for the todoroki family, it plagued their every waking moment. every room was adorned with religious decor, and sometimes in the dead of night, touya was convinced that the eyes of jesus would move with his every step.

his father would curse those who did not live a life in the name of god, and his mother would pray for them. touya did not know if he belonged. he would go to church every sunday, make the sign of the cross. go through the motions, and then go through them again. page 257. responsorial hymn. the body and blood of christ. sign of the cross, sign of the cross again. it was like clockwork, and sometimes he wonders if the church ever strayed from the path of god.

because if he was made in the image of god, then who was he truly?

the church was both a place of solace and a prison.

there was something freeing about the silence, the cool stone, the dimly lit interior.

and when everyone had gone, touya would often sit under the soft glow of a stained glass window. he would sit in the last pew, watching the evening light play across the stone floor, the reds, blues, and greens casting a glow across his face. he'd stare into the soft light, and imagine that it was illuminating the empty space in his heart. 

and somewhere along the line, churchgoing became bar hopping.

the first time he tasted alcohol, he hated it. it tasted like gasoline and smoke. 

but the burn, the way it made his head go numb, it was addicting. it was a form of release, the way confession never could be, and touya quickly got a taste for it.

the bar was everything the church wasn't. the soft sounds of religious hymns were replaced the loud beats of pop music, and instead of the cold, wooden bench of the church, it was a sticky, metal stool. 

but the noise was a welcome change, one that drowned out the thought of prayer in his head.

it wasn't exactly how his mother would imagine someone like him to spend his friday night. it was exactly what he craved. not for the alcohol, or for the cheap thrill of a conversation with a pretty stranger. not for any of that, because that wasn't touya.

no, he was searching for something else. a freedom from the eyes of a father, and a god.

and freedom was what he discovered in the dingy, local bar.

he learned very quickly that a pretty face would do wonders. a quick flash of a bright, charming smile and the perfect pick up line would always get him what he wanted. people here didnt care that he was a walking, talking corpse, body mutilated in ways unimaginable.

and it was never the pretty girl with delicate hands and soft eyes. nor was it the spunky one with wild eyes and wearing the shortest shorts and a bra top. it was you, always you. 

you, who sat all the way in the furthest part of the bar every friday night, nursing a half-empty glass of cheap beer. 

you, who never spoke to anyone who would attempt to buy you a drink. 

you, who seemed to never take your eyes off him, your cold gaze following him across the room.

he was intrigued.

you were nothing like he expected. 

a quiet boy in a den of drunks and the lost. a pretty face that seemed determined to stay out of the spotlight. he’d see how your dark eyes would darken and soften when they caught sight of the exposed flesh on his arms, the way your gaze would linger on the pale skin and burn scars on his hands as they wrapped around a glass of whiskey.

he found himself thinking about you after each night he visited. wondering what made you stay at the bar each weekend as if you were waiting for something.

were you waiting for a miracle, or a sign from god?

did you truly believe that god would show signs in a place like this? in a bar filled with drunk men and broken dreams, and people so lost they didn't even remember their way home? were you really waiting for a miracle here of all places?

and when he finally got to know you, touya would soon learn that you were everything he was not.

you were so achingly beautiful. not just in the way you looked, but in the way you spoke, the way your eyes seemed to always linger on the stars. the way you carried yourself with an underlying sadness that you tried to hide.

he fell in love with the soft flutter of your eyelashes, the shy smiles, and the way your hair would look rumpled in the early hours of the morning.

you were there each and every weekend, and it didn't take long for touya to realise that you'd been waiting for him all along.

god, he was so stupid.

all this time he spent searching for a sign, something to convince him that god had forsaken him.

and the first time he had taken you to bed, he felt like all of his prayers had been answered.

touya took you home, not knowing what he was doing half the time. he fumbled with his keys, stumbled over the threshold of his apartment, and practically slammed the door shut behind him.

he pressed you up against the wall, his body pressed close against yours, his hands roaming over your hips, your chest, your face. every touch and caress was a desperate plea for more, for something deeper, for something more intimate than anything he had ever felt before.

he couldn't seem to get enough of you 

he ran his lips over your skin, kissed you with a sense of purpose, a sense of urgency. he wanted to devour you whole, to bury himself in you and never come back up for air again.

touya was a man starving, and you were the one thing that could satisfy his hunger. 

the touch of your skin against his own was like the sweetest kind of sin. it made him forget all about the cold, lifeless church to the god who had abandoned him. 

your presence was a religion all on its own, and touya was an obedient disciple, ready to worship at your altar every chance he got.

and there, in the quiet darkness of his bedroom, surrounded by the soft, intimate sounds of skin on skin, he found the closest thing to heaven he'd ever felt. 

no bible, no holy water or prayers could compare to the feeling of you in his arms. your breath against his neck, the sound of your name on his lips.

the world outside the four walls of his apartment didn't matter anymore. the past, the present, none of it seemed real except this moment, right here, with you.

he was desperate to savour every second of it, to commit every detail to memory. the way you looked at him, the way you touched him, the way you tasted like the sweetest form of sin. 

he would gladly spend an eternity right here, worshipping you, if you'd let him. and he knew, from the depths of his heart to the darkest crevices in his mind, that this was wrong.

the church would condemn him to hell. his father would curse his name. his own mother would pray for forgiveness, thinking that her son's desire for other men was as blasphemous as the rest of his actions. 

but touya didn't care. he was lost to the sinful ecstasy of your body, the soft, perfect warmth of your lips against his skin. he was a sinner, and he would gladly follow you into the fire rather than let you go.

the church taught that love was a gift from god. touya realised that this, here in the darkened corners of his room, was his gift. you were his miracle. the thing he had waited for all this time.

he wanted to keep you close, to memorise every detail of you, to make sure that every part of you was burned into his memory. 

and as he lay there in the dark, hours later, with you wrapped around him like a second skin, he realised that you were what he was looking for when he went to church.

he didn't know what to make of it. he'd been in relationships before, but none of them had ever made him feel this way.

he ran his fingers through your hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers, listening to the soft sound of your breathing as you slept.

in that moment, he couldn't blame god for the way he was. couldn't blame him for the scars that covered his body, the way he loved men the way he should women.

you were god's blessing to him, not his punishment.

but god was not that kind. kind enough to grant him your existence, but not kind enough to let him keep it.

he had given touya a miracle, had laid the most perfect, pure thing in front of him for him to cherish.

but the church was also clear about what happened to those who sinned.

the bible said that men who lay with men should be stoned to death, along with those who took a man as they would a woman. they were an abomination to god, and touya knew that he would suffer the wrath of the lord for his transgressions

and so, while his heart was light and he found salvation in your embrace, his mind was dark and heavy. he knew that this happiness was just a brief, temporary respite.

he knew that this love, his love for you, was doomed from the beginning.

“dabi!”

the bar was alive with noise and laughter, a sound that touya once looked forward to. but now, he wanted nothing more than to get out. he sat in the same place as he always did, furthest part of the counter next to the jukebox, nursing a whiskey and watching as you moved through the room like water. gone was the quiet, gentle person he met all those weeks ago, replaced by someone no better than the common alcoholic.

once, this place would have been his sanctuary.

the dim lighting, the sound of heavy pop music, the drunken men in the back of the bar. 

he'd been a regular here for as long as he could remember. 

but now, it was a prison.

he'd rather sit in the cold, harsh silence of a church than the noisy, chaotic bar. he'd rather listen to the drone of a prayer than the sound of your laughter.

the sound pierced through the commotion, yet it blended in with the chatter and music, as if you had always belonged in this world of chaos. it was a far cry from the sanctity of the church touya had gotten away from, the whispered prayers and solemn hymns nowhere to be found. here, you were free, and touya couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at how easily you adapted to your new life.

envy. 

he'd always felt it, deep within him. the feeling that something wasn't fair.

it was in the church. it was in the presence of his father. it was here, in the bar, where you fit in so effortlessly.  he felt it, deep in his bones, and in every part of his body.

oh how he was seething with envy.

touya sat in his corner, watching as you worked the room with a charming smile and pretty pick-up lines. he saw how others looked at you, how their eyes would linger on you as you walked by, shamelessly looking you up and down, raking over the skin that was barely concealed.

he hated hearing you flirt with others as easily as you breathed. he hated seeing you touch other men, touch them the way you'd once touched him. he hated the way you would laugh with them. how you'd smile and lean into their touch.

the way they'd get to put their hands on your skin, the way they get to kiss you under the dim light, the way they get to be close to you in all the ways he did. he hated it all.

they were always  just some random man you'd pick up from the bar, yet they got so much more of you than he ever had.

what did you see in them? what did you see in them that he didn't have?

you weren't his boyfriend. nor was he yours. you two were not together, and he doubts you’d ever be. he didn't know what to call what you had with him. a situationship? a one night stand? friends with benefits? god, were you even friends?

a stolen kiss beneath the shadows of a church, a touch in the back of a bar, the hushed quiet of his apartment in the dead of night.

it was supposed to be a fling. a meaningless bit of fun, nothing that should ever amount to more than a brief moment of pleasure. 

yet, touya found himself here, drowning in a pool of jealousy, wanting nothing more than to pull you against him and claim you as his. every touch, every kiss, every hushed whisper with another man broke his resolved little by little, and it was only a matter of time before it finally shattered.

his bed was empty without you. all he could do at night was think about how another man was pleasuring you, doing what he did all those nights ago. he knows he could be better, he knows that he is better.

his body ached for you.

he knew that he could make you fall apart with just the touch of his hands, could have you begging his for his name instead of those random men's. he knew that he was more than capable of sending you flying over the edge, again, and again, and again. 

yet, you were always with someone else. your hands were on others instead of his skin. your lips were kissing others instead of his. what did he do wrong?

touya wondered if this was his punishment, if god had intended for him to suffer as you thrived without him. the church’s teaching echoed in his mind, reminding him of the wages of sin and the inevitable retribution. he had dared to love where he shouldn't, and now, he was paying the price.

and every time you would knock on his apartment, in the dead of night, smelling like sex and alcohol and god knows what else, he would let you in without a word.

he hated it. he knows he shouldn't, that he should tell you to fuck off, to go back to your own apartment and never look at him again. but he could never refuse you, not when you were looking at him like that, with those needy, hazy eyes of yours.

touya wanted to ask you if you were okay, if the men at the bar had touched you with the care you deserve. but he knew you had no interest in answering those questions, at least not while you were like this. all you wanted was to lay down, and sleep.

and you'd come to him, leaning into his chest, and the familiar smell of smoke and whiskey would surround him, making his head spin. you'd nuzzle your face into his neck, and your lips would be hot on his skin, whispering his name with a voice roughened by alcohol and longing.

touya’d gently coax you towards the bedroom, his hands running over your skin. he'd help you out of your clothes, into the spares you left at his, eyes tracing the shapes and curves of your body. he'd lay you gently on the bed, his hands lingering over your skin.

he want so badly to keep you like this, to keep you under him and away from the touch of other men. but he knew that you were just as likely to leave as you were to stay.

after laying down, he’d whisper things into your ear, things he knew he shouldn't say, things that came from the darkest parts of his heart. words about how he wished you were his, how he wanted to keep you by his side, how he wanted to be the only one to touch you.

and you wouldn’t remember a thing when you woke.

you never did.

touya would watch as you slept next to him, the heavy rise and fall of your chest, the quiet sounds of your breath. 

and he knew that when you woke, you wouldn't remember any of the things he'd said, the pleas and demands that he'd whispered into your ear. you'd see none of the desperate, possessive way he'd pulled you into his arms, none of the quiet jealousy that had simmered beneath his skin.

you’d wake get dressed, and leave him alone in his bed, returning to the world outside his apartment without a care in the world. sometimes have breakfast, watch a movie, bake a cake. play the part. 

touya’d watch as you rose from the bed the next morning, stretching and raking a hand through your tousled hair.  he'd see the traces of his fingers on your skin where he'd held onto you, the faint marks of his lips on your neck. but you wouldn't remember any of it, not the way he'd touched you or the way he'd held you.

he'd hate seeing you leave, knowing he'd be alone once again. he'd want to keep you in his arms, to trap you in his bed and never let you go. he'd want to keep you locked away from the world, all to himself. but he knew that it was a futile desire, a wish he couldn't have.

and just like that, you'd be gone. leaving him alone in the quiet of his empty apartment, with nothing but the memories of the night before.

touya had never considered himself a religious person, not with the life he'd led.

he'd cursed the teachings of the church, resented the weight of their doctrine, and scorned the idea of a benevolent god.

yet, there were times when he wondered if he should have more faith, if he should seek forgiveness and guidance from something beyond himself. it was at those times, when he was alone with his thoughts, that he questioned whether god was watching over him, waiting for him to repent and turn back to the light. that this was all a test, one that he couldnt help but fail.

but sitting in the empty, quiet apartment after you'd left, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe there was some truth to it all.