#【 bob aesthetics : bob the brain.

[darlingmoth]

some watercolour/coloured pencil bob dylan fan art, for anyone who cares!

#bob dylan #my brain is so rotten rn send help asap #mentally i am in new york circa the 60s #60s #70s #aesthetic #fanart #bob dylan fanart #art #sketch #sketchbook #drawing #drawings #watercolour

[floorpancakes]

ponytail watanuki

#xxxholic #that is all #LISTEN IMAGINE HIM HAVING LONG HAIR #not to tie him to flop clow reed i just think itd be cute as hell #long hair long hair long hair #effervescent i would simply explode on impact #i feel like cause he wears glasses too the act of someone fiddling with tjeir glasses or tying their hair up is moe #its not like hes not extremely gender already #lets all just communally think about it free serotonin #not like a half ass 'socially acceptable' 1 inch longer than default long hair like all sorts of long lengths #long hair kinda like yuuko or even kinda pantalone/clow-y could be fun but also #hed probably suit a bob haircut kinda like bruno jjba #itd be funny if it was like accidental symmetry w shizuka LOL #like the hairstyle evolution being in reverse #in general i just love thinking abt character aesthetics i have unga bunga fashion brain #once i can draw better and more consistently itll make sense #broooo imagine him tying his hair up into a ponytail tho #got me acting up like a victorian man seeing an ankle #the gap moe of this ethereally pretty character who is just the lamest mf imaginable.....

[ofpar1ahs]

muse tag pt. 5

#【 barb hcs! : come on you’re not this stupid. #【 barb ic : you were saying? #【 barb image : i’m chill. #【 barb musing : this isn’t you. #【 barb aesthetics : you’re gonna be so cool now it’s ridiculous. #【 bob hcs! : shall i teach you french while I'm at it? how bout a little german? #【 bob ic : yeah? what’s at the x? pirate treasure? #【 bob image : bob newby. superhero. #【 bob musing : easy-peasy right? #【 bob aesthetics : bob the brain. #【 hopper ic : you don’t mess around with jim. #【 hopper image : mornings are for coffee and contemplation. #【 hopper musing : remember the hurt. the hurt is good. #【 hopper aesthetics : it’s something that’s kinda in-between. something like halfway happy. #【 hopper hcs! : i call them the don’t be stupid rules. cause we’re not stupid.

[joelsgreys]

fall into temptation | three

Post Outbreak Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock, right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you were underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

#fic: fall into temptation #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #post outbreak joel

[a-trick-or-two-with-lepers]

What your favorite JCS song says about you

Tag your favorite and tell me how I insulted you

Overture - You're the hypeman at the function

Heaven on Their Minds - Judas is your babyboy + you're right this is the best one

What's the Buzz - This song is like crack to your seventies-obsessed brain, and "what's the buzz" is now something you say on the regular

Strange Thing Mystifying - You're a Judas Iscariot believer til the end, you think he did absolutely nothing wrong

Then we are Decided - You think you're super underground and obscure, but in reality you just have a fat crush on 24-year-old Bob Bingham (same)

Everything's Alright - Mommy issues

This Jesus Must Die - The villain song is ALWAYS your favorite

Hosanna - Jesus is your little meow meow and all you want is to see him happy

Simon Zealotes - You just love seeing a guy go batshit crazy + you're a sucker for good choreography

Poor Jerusalem - All you want is to be one of those actors that Jesus touches gently on the forehead

Pilate's Dream - You probably scream every time Pilate's on screen (girly calm down)

The Temple - You probably know a lot about time signatures + Jesus throwing over tables and yelling at everyone is your aesthetic

I Don't Know How to Love Him - You're basic but it's okay because this is a great love ballad + you think Mary is the most interesting character

Damned for all Time/Blood Money - You just really like seeing actors sing incredibly wordy and difficult songs

The Last Supper - You listen to John Denver + Seeing Jesus and Judas fight like a married couple tickles your brain

Gethsemane - If they don't hit that g5, the rendition immediately goes to the bottom of your list

The Arrest - Jesus is your little meow meow and all you want is to see him suffer

Peter's Denial - It's literally just Strange Thing Mystifying again but you like that funky little guitar intro + you ship Mary and Peter

Pilate and Christ - You think the best word to describe Pontius Pilate is "cunty"

King Herod's Song - You're girlypop + you think all movies would be better if they had a flouncy musical number

Could we Start Again, Please? - You're probably really sweet, like, overly nice

Judas's Death - You are a Jesus x Judas truther (respect)

Trial Before Pilate - You will never stop analyzing this scene. Ever.

Superstar - You grew up religious and are now in the alphabet mafia. How the turn tables??

The Crucifixion - You either love suffering or you love polyrhythmic jazz

John Nineteen:Forty-One - You're sensitive af + ALW is your favorite composer

This might be my favorite post I've made so far

#jcs #jesus christ superstar #jesus christ superstar 1973 #musical theater #jesus x judas #musicals

[triplesilverstar]

A random blurb about Vash

Rating: Explicit 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: Smut, Penis in vagina sex, voyeurism,

Word count: 547

A/N: I wrote this as a crackfic based on the idea of Vash’s long legs and you being wrapped around him while he did it. There's also an image under the divider to go with it.

See below the divider for more

The two of you had been desperate, both horny and while trying to be discrete to get a hotel room to fuck your brains out you’d learned the hotel had no rooms. None of the hotels or inns in town had any openings, some kind of shooting contest slated to start in the next day or two.

So. What’s a horny couple that wants to make sweet music so do? Find a narrow dimly lit space between two buildings and make due.

A short fight with Vash’s pants and those stupid belts that he wore for no reason other than aesthetics and you had his cock bobbing free. Wasting no time yourself as you wiggled your own pants down far enough so you could wrap your legs around his waist and sink down onto his dick. Pushing the fabric of his jacket away as you rode him, watching his face contour in ecstasy.

One hand gripping his shoulder while his gloved fingers were digging into the meat of your ass hard enough that you know you’re going to have bruises for days. Mouths closed over one another as your tongues danced, tasting the beer he’d been drinking.

You were so close as you broke apart, Vash letting out a whine that seemed to echo around.

Except.

It did echo in the small space. Just as your walls fluttered around his hard length and you stilled as your first orgasm took you, a pair of gunslingers saw the two of you.

“Hey, Blondie! How about a turn if you’re done with er!”

“Wait a darn minute! That’s Vash the Stampede!”

Coming back to yourself just in time to hear him yelp, throwing your arms around his neck as his coat flapped around both of you as he ran. Your face burned as he ran through town, and you tried to keep your face buried in his neck from the shame as he ran one hand on your bottom and the other on Peace Bringer.

You. Can. Never. Come. Back. To. This. Town. Ever.

As the bullets rained down on you both you just groaned, partly because of embarrassment and partly because Vash was still rock hard inside your pussy. All the running caused your clit to bump against the part of his pants still tied around his waist, and damn you were closing in on another orgasm.

“Damnit, hold on Mayfly!” Vash yelled through your haze of pleasure as he dropped to one knee, sliding and holding his revolver steady. His front leg slid forward. And the button of his pants hit your clit with enough force to push you over the edge.

While you hear an explosion you aren’t sure if it was your cunt or his gun, just that you slumped forward your head landing beside his foot, and one of your legs still tight around his waist while the other dropped. Moaning as you felt Vash spill himself inside your walls.

“That was not a good time for a chase.” You just moan as Vash surveys how far from the town he ran and the bounty hunter knocked out from him dropping an overhead sign on their head. Looking down at you Vash sighs. “At least one of us was able to enjoy that fuck.”

#trigun #vash the stampede #trigun smut #vash x reader #twink blurbs

[you-cant-fuck-megaman]

btw isn't the canon reason for the timeline split caused by Dr. Light having sex and later raising actual flesh-and-blood children? So if you wanted to fuck Dr. Light (which you elaborated isn't possible) you'd basically cause a butterfly effect

while that's popular fanon after a funny meme post on twitter, battle network is not the only timeline where light has children

Fully Charged has IMO the coolest incarnation of Light. he's an absolute hunky bear of a man, he can throw down hand-to-hand with robots himself, he's an actually-present father figure who looks after his children. like, not just father in the metaphorical sense, as in he spawned Suna Light from his loins and so had to have had sex with a lucky-ass woman (potentially multiple times).

i'm sorry you saw me and your mom fighting, sunshine, but she's got a long way to go before she can take on the Undertaker at Wrestlemania. now let both of us get back to training, please.

there's a lot to hate about Fully Charged, but Light ain't one of them.

and then there's Dr. Emilia Right from the pachislot, whom is the actual daughter of Dr. Ligh--pardon, Dr. RIGHT, which means at some point once again, Lright got down with someone and had a lot of fun with them.

Emilia Right owns, she found a busted robot and her first priority was to make her look cute again and then to make her combat ready after that. she's got a red hair like a squirrel and put gadgets into her clothes just for the #aesthetic, potentially implying that Light went best-of-5 at EVO with Street Fighter's C. Viper.

and then there's the archie AU with LaLinde. the archie run's got a lot of good shit about it, but Dr. LaLinde was originally intended to be a darker-skinned woman with a normal introduction, and then her first appearance is The Love Interest

heart backgrounds with dr. light going AHOOGA HOOGAAW AOOOOOOO HA-CHA-CHA-CHA-CHAAAAAAAAAAAA. i'm not about to say that there can't be love interests in media or that women can't be attractive, i too enjoy a nice pair of knockers whenever i can pull myself away from being correct on the internet. but this has the subtlety of a brick hammer hitting another brick hammer with a face drawn on it. two volumes down the line, i can guarantee you they fucked. nothing may have come from it, since ken penders fucked the entire universe, but i think that just means dr. light got pretty handily fucked by extension.

megaman's got a lot of AUs and a lot of split timelines, even oftentimes within the same subseries. capcom can't write a straight timeline to save their life. someone could be holding the NES hostage, holding their dick in the cartridge slot and yelling demands at bob capcom on the phone like "you write a coherent story or i'll blow this bastard's brains out", and then bob capcom still would insist on putting in 3 extremely important characters that are relevant for maybe 2 minutes of cutscenes. and would still conflict with the lore established in Stage 69 of Area 420 in Megaman Zero 0. megaman continuity would STILL be utterly fucked beyond repair.

whether or not Light fucked has no real bearing on it, as you can see--even the fuck timeline has a lot of splits completely unbearing of the simple binary "did/did not" switch. it's a little bit more complicated than that. see, the question is not so much whether the timeline split is caused by Dr. Light having sex, but rather whether he tops, bottoms, or takes it up the ass.

#Dr. Light #Doctor Light #megaman #mega man #rockman #worldbuilding #ask #kkhell

[candysharkart]

Hiiiii your art is amazing and it really feeds the brain worms. I was wondering if you have any opinions on Mort? He fr doesn’t get enough love

aw thank u!! i like mort a lot n i wish he'd get more screentime!! i have a couple general hcs for him

in his mid 50s now

trans guy who transitioned after his 1st year in college, ended the semester a nerdy lesbian and started the next a visually indistinct nerdy bi-curious guy

bald by 40 *kisses his bald head* sometimes the toupee is ironic sometimes its not......hes complicated

likes men alright but prefers women (hes still a little bit of a dyke in his heart)

hes poly and still occasionally goes out with that mortician lady from s1e11. theyre keeping it casual

he's got LOTS of friends he's been dating/fooling around with for years. mort has game!!!! but he thinks its very funny that linda n teddy think he's a lonely single guy for some reason (bob knows better lol)

Skulls and Death Jokes are an inevitable side effect of his career, but hes aesthetically aiming for more of a Intellectual Cool Guy

he is GOOD AND FUNNY AT JOKES no matter what teddy says.

#candy shark #fan work #bob's burgers #fan design #fingers crossed we get mort development someday

[simstate]

Pink UI: Download (v1.0)

Surprise, b*tch. 😉 Welcome to Pink UI~!

After a year since its initial reveal, it’s now here!

Please note that as this uses Clean UI & Starship UI as a base, it will require all expansion packs and Mansion & Garden stuff to work as fully intended.

Features:

completely overhauled pink ui based on clean ui

six new pink aesthetic loading screens

custom pink cursors !!

integrated improvements from starship ui (thank you @ethanmcgregor)

Installation process is the same as Clean UI and Starship UI.

Credits:

Once again, huge shoutout and props to @greatcheesecakepersona​.  They really paved the way for Sims 2 UI modding, and the original Clean UI and its corresponding DIY kit make all of this possible. GCKP is a modern-day TS2 hero.

Thank you to @neosimi​ for allowing her beautiful loading screen pic from Starship UI to be reused in Flawless Pink UI!

The loading screen images that use real life Tokyo photographs are from Wikimedia Commons, released under a Creative Commons License.

And lastly, thank you to all of my Patreons for tipping and supporting me throughout this very long and tedious development process:`

Angelll • AnnaDelRey • AstroX14242 • Bifford • Bob aka Lapis • bouse • braeji • @brattyful • Bri B • bribrichan • criisolate • Daimond • deiffol • demonho • dva • Eenalya • eini • Elan • Elio. • FatalQueen • fabrizio • felixw / @fwaldorf • Fraankky • gamingwithdoublea • garrettgivre • ghoulspice • great kness and powerful brain • Jocava • LeighPlays • Lemurphs • littlevalkyrie • MAGLX • Meat • @misspats3 • Motion Sims • mrscee • neosimi • Noodle • PaintTheCityPink • pollybygolly • poplol • Ri2xe • @ryanaiss • simspaghetti • SimulationBabe • staz • SuperLegal • Taliaaaaa • TenDema • THybrid21 • Tonni • toy042 • wbell • xenrces • zan

DOWNLOAD (SFS)

Thank you guys so much for the continued support over the past few months. I’m so glad I was able to finish this UI for one last hurrah. I hope this surprise post is the start of a nice weekend for you. ^w^

<3, -simstate

#the sims 2 #sims 2 #ts2cc #s2cc #starship ui #clean ui #pink ui #sims 2 ui #sims 2 mod #sims 2 mods #sims 2 custom content #simstate #ui mod #sims 2 ui mod #sims 2 pink #sims 2 pink ui #sims 2 aesthetic #sims aesthetic

[panzershrike-pretz]

Hey Pretz!! 2, 14, and 25 for the HBO War fandom positivity ask game please 💙

Zim zam, Lou!

2. Who are some of your fav creators/mutuals?

You put me in a situation right here 😭 I hate having to choose because I just love everyone and don't like leaving people out xD BUT, if i do really have to choose i'd go with @next-autopsy and @malarkgirlypop because of their fics! I don't keep up with a lot of reading so I only really know their works, and i absolutely FUCKING LOVE THEM!!!! And @sweetxvanixlla because oh my god. Those moodboards. I get the feelings. Also, @samwinchesterslostshoe because drawings. OH MY GOD THAT IS INSANE. Love my boy Antonio Julian Spiegeon.

I actually just want to tag everyone because I just love them and their stuff, tbh, but decided to go with a top 4 for now. If you are my mutual and is seeing this, I ALSO LOVE YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU DO WANT TO HUG YOU AND KISS YOU ON THE FOREHEAD DON'T FEEL LEFT OUT.

14. Your fave underrated character?

Lou why are you so mean to me. W h y. I'm just here like- dying. Cannot choose. Will be letting you down 9n this one xD it's been too long since I last saw BoB and I can't remember right now who's more underrated, so I don't feel in a good enough position to choose from :'].

25. What colors do your mutuals remind you of?

Ok. Starting up with you, @luckynumber4, definetely dark or navy blue. I think it's because of your blog aesthetic but really, the url also fits and I love it.

@next-autopsy is emerald green. It's the color she uses on her fic and I cannot see Nex without thinking of that color anymore.

@xxluckystrike i think you remind me of gold. Like, golden flower fields; your personality definetely makes me think of that.

@malarkgirlypop is seafoam OR pink (that really strong one almost radioactive.) The seafom is because it simply fits her so fucking well??? Goes amazingly with her hair too. And the pink is because of her personality. She's just so radiant and catches your attentionwithouteven trying. Love it.

@land-sh is definetely wine. Yes its because of the blog. Fight me.

@sweetxvanixlla is this color: 🩵. Its an emoji she always uses and I cannot see this color anymore and not think of her; just amazing.

@georgieluz is lavander. That's it. He makes me think of it and I love that.

@footprintsinthesxnd is moss green. Idk but just gives ne the vibes; I think its simply so pretty and a not very appreciated color (yeah this is a call out. Everyone should appreciate Jess a lot. Love her.)

@coco-bean-1218 is light pink. Mostly because of her old pfp, but also because she seems soft and is so very kind! Light pink fits her a lot.

@whollyjoly is orange, mostly because that flower crown in her pfp always catches my eye (i fucking love that holy shit).

@mads-weasley is also orange. Based in vibes alone. Love u.

@iceman-kazansky is ice blue or white, they remind me of winter (i guess its because of the Gene pfp?? Idk) and I simoky love the feels.

@bucky32557038ww2 is salmon. Its a calm and good lookung color; it brings ne good feelings and I think it definetely fits you!

@holdingforgeneralhugs you. You are a hard one?? But like... your name makes me think of violet. That or any shade of purple, really.

@thewayisset is white. Its simple, i know, and its also heavily inspired on the pfp, but I just feel like white suits you.

@samwinchesterslostshoe is gray-ish red, because of the pfp on the discord group. I think its a pretty color that suits you :].

I am sure i forgot about some people but i really tried here xD I got the most my brain would let me and I think that's fair KEKEKEKEK

#thank you so much for asking this!! #pretz ask #🥨🪶 #love you all guys #me and the gang (bottom text)

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/14/2023

twenty-nine, please be kinder than twenty-eight and the tail end of twenty-seven. phil update: unauthorized access

listening

Maisie Peters’ Guy on a Horse (previously featured with song Not Another Rockstar). headbanging indie rock off the spotify recced playlist. i would have liked this song much more in my worst misandrist period from high school-early college but the lines “Got this far and I’m Joan of Arc/And you’re just a guy on a horse” made me laugh. spotify

also off the spotify recced playlist (many bangers on last week’s) The Last Dinner Party’s My Lady of Mercy. all-girl baroque british indie rock, a dizzy quality i like very much in this small dose but would never be in the mood for a full album’s worth. spotify.

OH this feels like it’s probably on every griddlehawk playlist. one day i will read those things

-

reading

fallow week

-

watching

Sirocco (1951, dir. Bernhardt). it was on tubi and i wanted to watch a Bogart noir without hooking up my laptop and finagling The Big Sleep with the good subtitles off the dvd. Sirocco has…hm. aged poorly is an understatement. it is not internally consistent with character motivations (a truly fucking baffling ending) and the leads have zero chemistry. the leading lady didn’t have anything to fucking do to create chemistry. the hottest moment was when she absentmindedly gave him back a cigarette with a lipstick print, and he finishes smoking it with a thousand-yard stare. comparing this in marketing to Casablanca was criminal. stop fucking comparing everything to Casablanca it’s never going to be as good!!!

third most unforgivably, below the brownface and script that was once in the same room as fun dialogue, it could have been a singular half-hour episode of television instead of a feature length film.

-

playing

genuinely cried at the conclusion of the mainline Fontaine quest in g/enshin. this was a beefy fuckin update my god. i think the last act in the five-act quest was like two hours of cutscenes. i know how the fuck are they funding this (gacha) but still. any other company this would be hysterically cost prohibitive.

in other games: Luna Story Picross I, i am having fun but i think my brain has not yet picked up on the internal logic of picross yet. if there was a Good Picross paid app like the Good Sudoku paid app that teaches you sudoku strategy i would get that in a shot. this is a very millennial app, lovely gradients and extra chunky pixel art. very crossstitchable . ik pixel art is already crossstitchable but this lands somewhere between whimsigoth and every astronomy-themed gift on the marketplace and i find that compelling

-

making

horseshoe knife from the Dragon Forging Experience!!! at the ren faire. unrelated half pound block of beeswax for scale. i did not have enough upper body strength and got a blister :( but any excuse to swing a medium-sized hammer with malice aforethought. my initials are somewhat indifferently stamped on the other side bc again, upper body strength, but those don’t need to be on the internet

hung up all the cat wand toys. this is extremely not very hashtag aesthetic but hopefully seeing them every day will remind me to actually play with my fucking cats, bc they were in a horrible pile behind the futon and were a right bitch to detangle every time. we’ll see how this goes. mack has not ripped them all down yet bc she doesn’t want to stretch over the little samsonite train case i yoinked off the side of the road in mass. strongly recommend a big makeup case or train case like this one to hold all the cat bits and bobs like flea treatment and brushes and extra toys and the filters for the water fountain et al.

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #some real ringing musical endorsements

[ashtrayfloors]

EPISODE TWO KURT’S BRAIN - INTERIOR

Kurt’s obsession with fashion went back a long way. It was part of a more general appreciation of beautiful and material things, which he’d had since he was a child.

Kurt suspected that this early aesthetic education was responsible for the direction of his own tastes. Things were beautiful to him in inverse proportion to their accessibility: a logic which struck him as childish for its fetishisation of impotence. But the 90s were about not growing up. The pages of the music and celebrity magazines that didn’t have Kurt’s face on them were filled with images of manufactured adolescence: teeny bopper twinks dressed in virginal white, A-listers doused with slime in studios resembling kindergartens, and an ageing parade of actors fresh out of high school drag.

He might seem like a kid to an industry obsessed with youth and its prophecies, but he was a grown up with a kid of his own. Even in earlier relationships he’d wanted the house with the picket fence. Tobi Vail used to say it was because of his parents’ divorce; they’d get into screaming arguments about his attachment to what she called the ‘bourgeois and patriarchal trap of success’. Kurt was hurt, but he did agree that he wanted these things as signs that he had made it. Not to the American dream that Vail despised him for, but to some indefinable sense of a future, and this was the only one he could imagine.

Such feelings were deeply unfashionable, and got in the way of the punk recklessness that had first attracted Vail, and which she held at arms’ length, an accessory to complete her image. Not that he minded them not interrogating these desires together. Kurt couldn’t put it more eloquently than this, but it felt both good and bad to dangle from her arm. To be used the way a man might use a beautiful woman. No one had read any Judith Butler yet, so Kurt could only say: Tobi’s riot grrl feminism made him feel like a woman, but it also made him know he wasn’t one. He was part of a group of people who obstructed people like Tobi, who’s desires stood in the way of her liberation. These wants stood for his involvement in patriarchy; women only wanted these things because men wanted them for them.

But Kurt didn’t care, he dreamed of being turned into an image, into an adornment for the grrls, the gyrls, the gworls of the future. He dreamt that his name would become a secret call passed between women in chokers at parties in lofts and warehouses in metropolitan areas of the United States. He dreamt of a teenage starlet gaining fame in a tv show where she wore his dirty bob for an audience too young to remember his music. He dreamt of the expansion of the internet and forums on which users would share photos of him and argue about what he wore and what he said.

He didn’t tell anyone these dreams. Unlike the house and family, these were just for him.

—Francis Whorrall-Campbell, from "[Digital Poetics 4.7] A Fragment on Kurt Cobain’s Transgender Ideas from ‘In Utero’" (The Hythe)

#quotations #francis whorral campbell #kurt cobain #alternative history #trans stuff #recently read #i was reading up on the 'was kurt a trans girl' 'controversy' recently #and like honestly i can see why people say he was #or if not a trans woman then nonbinary #what's weird to me is people getting so angry that anyone suggests it as a possibility #because like obviously we don't know for sure #and we never will #but how does someone headcanoning kurdt as transfem hurt anyone? #it does not! #also i can 1000% guarantee that if kurt were still alive - even if he was not trans/not out as trans - there is no way he would be upset #about people speculating about it #he'd probably be flattered! #ne way #this particular essay is the best one i've found re: trans kurt

[crossover-enthusiast]

Imma pull an uno reverse card on you and ask about YOUR streber headcannons hehe

>:o I've been uno reversed!! /lh

You got it! S O-

The local scenecore AND goth kid

I like the idea he keeps his fake fangs in near constantly

I also think he's autistic, but I don't think he masks it. He just doesn't give that vibe to me, personally

He's German (mom's side) and is bilingual

In addition to being both a theater kid and a techie, he's also really good with makeup

Was a babysitter in highschool, absolutely looked after each of the Hatz, Susie, and Skid and Pump at different points

After highschool he left town for a while in an attempt to make it big as an actor. While he got a few background roles and one as a supporting character (in a horror movie. His character got killed almost immediately), ultimately he moved back bc he couldn't find anything. He was also homesick lmao

While him and Kevin vaguely knew each other in highschool (Kevin was also in the theater club), it wasn't until after Streber returned that the two became friends and eventually, a couple

They later pooled their money together to go from two shitty apartments to one decent apartment

Streber comforted Kevin a lot when Kevin had his nightmares

Strebs is ambidextrous! Ended up coming in real handy after the Bob incident

Speaking of, his way of dealing with trauma is "if I ignore it it didn't happen". Not really something he can do down an arm tho

So this in turn leads to Streber having his own nightmares bc his brain is still trying to deal with it, and Kevin comforting him (he is very bad at it)

If he gets a prosthetic he later mods it so the fingers are sharp. Claims it's for the aesthetic (and part of it was), but really he wanted a good way to defend himself

I'm gonna go back to silly before it gets too sad

He works at GoNuts when it isn't October and he gives discounts to people he likes (took this from daily-streber lol)

When he first met Rick he tried to scare him, and when he showed no reaction Streber made it his mission to scare him, or even just get some emotion from him all

The haunted house was a repurposed abandoned house him and his friends just kinda. Took. No one was using it and it'd been abandoned for ages, so no one cared

Is usually the designated driver for both of his friend groups

Huge Kirby fan! His favorite games are Super Star Ultra and Triple Deluxe, and his favorite abilities are Animal, Mirror, and Circus (more daily-streber thievery with a side helping of projection lol)

Streber has a notebook he'll jot down various ideas and thoughts into. He also doodles in it (I think his artstyle would be similar to those teeny chibi Hatzgang and Bob from Pelo's doodle dumps, with a hint of 2000s webcore)

I really like the headcanon that him and Jack are brothers so here's a bunch just for that skfjnadskjfnkjfn

They were inseparable when they were kids

Streber looked up to him a lot, still does!

You know that thing where you show someone something you love and they get just as obsessed with it as you are, if not more? Yeah that was Jack and Streber with horror movies

When they were little they would stay up late and watch horror movies and slasher flics, and then they'd both get nightmares because they really shouldn't have been watching them

One Halloween when Streber was still teeny they dressed up as Andy and Chucky (I like to think Child's Play still exists in this universe bc it's funny). They scared so many people since Streber was a very convincing doll

Stemming from the above, they were partners in crime in pranks! Streber would probably find the corpse prank funny

Jack taught Streber how to drive

Streber babysits John's kid sometimes. He enables her mischievous side :)

Yeah I think that's enough for now kdsnfkjdsn

Thank you for the reversal!!

#Spooky Month #Streber #Kevin #Jack #Headcanon

[deputy-buck]

hi!’ 3 and 7 for the hbowar ask game :)

Hey anon!! Thanks for droppin by!

---

3 - what are some fics that you go back and read again and again?

An Afternoon at the NCO Club by Murreleteer (BoB) is regular re-read for me, everything about this scratches the deepest itch in mt brain. Especially: Bull, Johnny, and Lipton's parts. Phenomenal fic.

Bringing Out Eugene by Muccamukk (The Pacific) I cannot tell you how many times I've re-read this one, it's great, love me some overwhelmed Eddie.

if i have to switch the lights off, i wanna switch them off with you by DeadCaffeineJunkie (Gen Kill) This whole series is just grrrrrrr so fucking good. So goddamn good it should be illegal to have access to it 24/7, this should have to be checked out of a library and have a return date. I get to have this all day everyday?? I went insane because of this series.

Mein Tier by Arrestzelle (Rammstein) ((yeahyeah i know it's not HBO war but it is the perfect fic)) This is uhhh, possibly the most chaotic yet comprehensive fic I've ever read. Check this fic for updates weekly, I re-read Chapter 2 at least once a month, it's so cute and sweet compared to the rest of the work.

There's also an A/B/O BoB fic with A!Speirs/A!Nix/A!Winters/O!Lip that I can't find, help me find it bc I want to re-read that one as well.

Honestly so glad y'all can't see my Ao3 history

7 - what hbowar blogs have your favorite aesthetic?

All of Mar's blogs have great colorways. Idk if she wants all her blogs linked but I feel i get get away with this one and you can see her other blogs through the links she provides! @merriellallesandroshelton

I really enjoyed @caffeinated-fan 's old colorway but they have since changed it, I like this one too, very clean and easy on the eyes. Not ar cute and comforting as the coffee-theme though 😭

@kafka-ohdear blog is giving Military Issue Colors and I do love that. We kinda twin, theirs is a little more muted though which is nice, I love muted colors.

---

From this ask game!

#buck builds #ask game

[thekimspoblog]

Responding to a comment on my latest drabble.

Here is an abridged version of the timeline:

Seasons 1-5 and the first couple episodes of Season 6 happened. Then on June 10, 2004, Kim had an extremely vivid dream (quite uncharacteristic of her) loosely based on this short film: https://youtu.be/8v87Pqi3gCc?si=yNHge91wQ_0SbilX That was my "Sheepdog" fetish fic. The test came back negative, but it did get Kim thinking; re-evaluating what she wanted. Then Howard was murdered, and the pregnancy scare was just one more reason this situation suddenly seemed so unsalvageable. Then Breaking Bad happened. Then in 2010, the final events of "Saul Gone" occurred. And frankly none of what Saul did even mattered; whether it was ethical, whether it was respectful of the justice system. Because all the while Kim was having a more abstract struggle, with God, time, and the narrators. She might not remember everything that happened in the dream, but she still wakes up with a splinter in her brain, a feeling like another reality is knocking at the door. Between 2010 and 2016, they were both lying low. Both on their best behavior. But as Jerry Seinfeld famously said, "Never bet against the backslide". Because Glenn is fucking useless, and CFLA may be a worthy cause, but it brings with it the same frustrations that trying to defend the disenfranchised from a fundamentally corrupt system always have.

Finally, starting in 2016 we get my magnum opus (which I haven't written yet): An eight episode sequel fic: "Slippin' Kimmy Season 1". I won't give it all away, but it starts with Kim promising she's figured out how to get Jimmy out on parole, and ends with them as the de facto leaders of a Unitarian church. And somewhere in between all those events, is a moment where Kim is given the chance to bury the hatchet with her mother. The story I want to tell is mostly focused on themes of faith, magic, and political radicalization, specifically from a feminist perspective in a country that is increasingly hostile to women. I want to borrow a lot from the aesthetic of horror classics from the 70's.

"August 2017" is a short fic, set after the events of Season 1. That one was mostly more domestic fluff and pregnancy fetishism, with only minor angst about waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I don't have Season 2 mapped out as much, and this snippit is set sometime during that, so that's why it's so vague. But we know Kim's portrayal as an action hero is going to continue to escalate. And Bob Odenkirk is clearly getting sick of playing this character and wants to be written out permanently, so by Season 2 I'm happy to oblige... but we know Iris is going to blame Kim for whatever happens.

We skip around a lot in the timeline. We see Iris as an adult, trying to continue to survive and fight the good fight in the post-climate change/post-American fascism world they've inherited. We see how their bond with their sister is the only real relationship they have. And ultimately, I'm hoping things will come full circle: there's this idea I keep toying with that thematically, Iris is still carrying around a fragment of Howard's soul. And if Iris really wants to be at peace, they're going to have to accept that maybe they can't be the hero their parents had raised them to be.

#overeagerlyexplainingmywholeheadcannontoyou

#better call saul #kim wexler #sequel fic #slippin kimmy #iris wexler-mcgill #leftism in fiction #heisenberg who that's what i say #wy should i care o

[velvetineblue]

3, 6, 13, 34, & 35!! ( gibs u both salty AND sweet :D )

( in which i was supposed to be salty @ roleplayers but instead i just yell at tumblr staff incoherently / accepting ! )

3. what’s your favorite thing about your mutuals ?

aah, there's so many things i could say !! first of all, they're all very inspiring. whenever i see you guys on my dash, killin' it with your writing and ideas, it inspires me to be more creative. and active. i don't check my dash that often because i try to minimize my distractions during the day; but i bet if i checked it more, the inspiration would make me more active JASJAJJ. another thing i love to see is how the mutuals i have are all very supportive of each other !! liking posts, commenting, and being very warm and welcoming to each other. ; u ; i'm picky about who i follow, so i only follow the best. ;)) wink wonk

6. what’s one thing the rpc has to realize ?

most of us are over-thinkers. that thing that you are assuming about that other rp'er ( e.g. they must not like me because they didn't respond to my ask; OR they don't want to write with me because if they had they would have reached out; OR they probably think they're 2 cool for me because i don't use fancy aesthetics . . . all the thoughts we have like THAT ) are most likely not true. most things have simple explanations, and are not that deep. our anxious brains just like to overcomplicate things. : D I know that for me, if I did not want to write with someone, or if I did not like them . . . I would just unfollow them or not follow them in the first place !! it's dat simple asjjaja. so if you're mutuals, try not to worry so much about little things and overanalyze them !! if you come here & focus on having fun and exercising your creativity, and focus on that, and your friends, instead of rejections ( real or perceived ) and worrying over what you can't do and can't control . . . you will have a WAY better time! : )

13. what’s underrated in the rpc ?

touching grass. jk jk but actually only half jk. but all of the partners i have rn are people with lives outside of rp and other hobbies and stuff to do, and yes, that means we tend to be slower with our replies & all, but . .. it's so much better, ngl. it sounds stupid but fr, having a life is IMPORTANT, okay; people are less likely to get over-sensitive abt rp stuff, less likely to become overly invested to the point that replying to your threads becomes an obligation / burden instead of good fun, and it also helps lessen the over-thinking mentioned above...

when it comes to what the rpc writes tho ? hMMmm... i think continuity and single-verse stuff is kind of underrated !! like, having verses ( or even entire characters/blogs ) where everything is under ONE single timeline. so if you have a thread with Bob and in that thread, Bob chops off your characters' arm, from then on, your character has ONE ARM. periODT !! unless they get a cybernetic arm or magically regrow it, etc. . . this comes with it's own set of challenges & is PRETTY FREAKING hard to do in rp, but I think it is REALLY fun & rewarding when it works !!! i love all the twists and turns and the spontaneity of it. and if too much happens, there's no reason you can't just... reset back to the beginning!

34. what’s the best part about being in the rpc on tumblr ?

ooh for me, the best thing has been meeting a community of like-minded, similar writers : D bc yes, I’ve met plenty of other writers irl and online places besides tumblr, but… they don’t GET ME like my tumblr mutuals do ajdjsj. I rly thought I was a crazed weirdo because of how passionate I was about my characters, and how I can think about them all day & relate every little thing back to them … until I joined tumblr :’) tumblr turns a solitary, isolate hobby into something community-based, where we all collaborate and expand each other's universes, and i just genuinely think that's a really cool writer-y thing. very niche, very hard to explain to people outside our community ... but i think it's rly fun n uNIQUE. and I think I would have gone crazy if I didn’t have tumblr to scream to about character things svfdd

35. what’s the biggest problem in the rpc ?

that's a good question ... there's a lot of flaws in the rpc, but there's a lot of good things, too. there are a lot of problems that could use improving, but i don't know how to rank one as the 'WORST'. i do think that what i talked about in #6 is a possible contender for the biggest problem, because if we're all avoiding each other and too scared to talk to each other, that kills rp. but it's hard to change that and i feel like the rpc has talked about it enough. 🤷 i don't really have anything else to add or any other solutions. meh. i don't care that much either. i don't think the rpc will ever really die, so it's whatever asjjaj. ( correction: it may die on TUMBLR, but there's plenty of other places to rp if it does. roleplayers are like cockroaches; WE NEVER DIE. ) so instead, i'm going to say: THIS SHITTY ASS BETA EDITOR. I HATE THIS THING. WHAT THE FUCK. the biggest problem in the tumblr rpc is definitely that tumblr staff tries to 'fix' things that were never broken. they hate us and want us all to suffer. we are in hell, being punished for the crime of being tumblristas. i'm not one of those people who hate anytime a website has a minor ui change or whatever-- i didn't care about twitter adding 50 buttons. i'm not opposed to change if it's for innovation or a new feature or look or whatever, even if i don't personally want that feature........ but tumblr doesn't even fix anything: they replace what was there with something of inferior quality every time. how the fuck do you run a website worse than elon musk. not even muskrat has ruined the basic functionality of a text editor, tumblr....... honestly mind-boggling. > : [

#* OLD MAN SHAKEES FIST AT TUMBLR STAFF *