#work posting Tumblr posts

  • v-a-l-k
    05.12.2021 - 5 minutes ago

    .

    #so as im working my way through learning how thai words are spelled #im finding its not necessary for there to be a vowel where one is put in the romanization #like kimmons real name varodom? #only one vowel #so its more like wrodm #but you still make those vowel sounds when pronouncing it #soooo thats gonna be a challenge to learn #im already remembering s lot more characters than i thought i would though! #pointless post
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  • simgerale
    05.12.2021 - 5 minutes ago
    #ask#morrigan-sims #i was away from home all day yesterday so i apologize for the late reply 💛 #my last two finals are Tuesday so hypothetically i can start the sim making after that #my Christmas break to-do list includes but is not limited to: #(i sound like a medicine ad that lists the side effects) #sim dump #work on regal and possibly even finish the story??? it depends how motivated i am i suppose #i have so many plans for it #sam if you’re reading this i think i’ll need more poses made and i #-and i will compensate you with money if not anything else you want because i hate to take advantage of your time and skill #anyway i also plan on making more legacy posts and FINALLY having that baby born #amoria is crying bc she’s been pregnant so long #and hmmmm I think that’s all I’ll plan for #ahhhhhhh today will be about finishing up some school #and possibly starting early on this sim dump 👀
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  • divinesmite
    05.12.2021 - 7 minutes ago

    kill

    #pearl posts #so the stealth build is working out
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  • vegetablearian
    05.12.2021 - 16 minutes ago

    love blocking "feminists” who say women don’t have surnames

    #you literally sound like the women who write to serial killers you are fucking insane and soooo misogynist #it's like saying women aren't people because we haven't been treated as people lmao. yet we ARE. and we HAVE NAMES FFS #sooo many things people including other women have said to my face - NEVER has one dared to say i don't have a surname because i'm female!! #but they'll say anything on tumblr! #the mix of insane aggressive behaviour to other women + complete capitulation to patriarchy is just... wow #the reason this one gets me so bad is because it's just... unnecessary. men don't gain anything physical. it's JUST to demoralise us #and these 'feminists' are joining in lmao #they literally will write ON A POST SAYING HOW FUCKED UP MARRIED NAMES ARE #that they think all women should change their surnames #it said like 'it sucks when you can't find your school friends + your female ancestors' #and they're like LET'S DO MORE OF THAT!! NO NAMES FOR WOMEN! WOMEN DON'T HAVE NAMES #Like i don't give a shit if you want to change your surname. especially to a cool feminist one. go ahead have fun #but these women insisting that **I** don't have a real surname... THAT'S WHAT WE'RE FIGHTING ACTUALLY #and also? idk how it works in other countries but here in the uk your mother gives you your surname. even if it's your father's too! #my mum gave me... my father's surname! she gave it to me and it's mine now! forever! just like it became his when he was born!
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  • azidoazide-art
    05.12.2021 - 27 minutes ago

    i finally caved and drew Alex in something cute, cause he deserves it XD

    did i have dorian electra's "my agenda" blasting all throughout drawing this? maybe.

    #digital art#ocs#character design #i made this in like 2 days and i wasn't even gonna post it #but i kinda like how it came out??? despite the fact that i drew this after not having drawn anything in like two months #when you start a drawing completely on a whim and it actually kinda works out...that's a miracle #this was a head empty drawing i just wanted to draw him looking pretty #smoking#original stuff#tnt#12/5/2021
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  • bluepuzzled
    05.12.2021 - 29 minutes ago

    You see this thing flying at you at 3AM, wyd?

    #this is actually terrifying and I dont know why #calico#video game#no context #i dont really know what to post #will work on general headcanons soon I promise
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  • magpie-to-the-morning
    05.12.2021 - 30 minutes ago

    In from the Cold - Part One

    Rating: Teen

    Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x Female!Reader

    Wordcount: 4.6k

    Tags: Demisexual reader, Slow burn, Pining, Alcohol use, Whiskey using his whip which needs a warning of its own, Some unwanted flirting (not from Whiskey)

    Summary: You’re a bartender with love life that’s completely DOA. Maybe this charming new regular will turn things around? Multiple chapters planned.

    Read on Ao3

    It’s Saturday night and your pub, the Rose and Thorn, is heaving- the usual crowd of college students and easygoing locals pushed aside by what seems to be an invasion of douchey finance types. One of them has made it his mission to flirt with you despite, or worse, because of, your glacial indifference.

    “Come on, what’s the problem? I’m just trying to give you a compliment.” 

    Your shoulders tense and you glare at the man smiling ingratiatingly at you, his eyes glazed with drink. “Not interested. Thanks.” The last word drips with polite venom.

    “Aww come on,” he cajoles, egged on by the two smirking bros at his back. “Can’t I get your number?” 

    You grit your teeth. “Did you want another drink or are we done here?”

    Caught up in this exchange, you nearly miss the arrival of another customer. He’s tall, most of his face obscured beneath a wide-brimmed hat- until he cocks his head to consider the sniggering boys next to him before turning to address you. “Well now normally I’d hate to interrupt this scintillating conversation you’re engaging these… gentlemen in, but I am simply parched. Might I trouble you for a glass of whiskey?” He sits down at the bar, making a show of taking off his hat and placing it in front of your suitor’s glass. When the other man shoots a nasty glance at the newcomer, he stares him down. 

    More than happy to shift your focus to a paying customer, you nod and move to stand in front of him. “Any preference?”

    His dark brown eyes dance. He leans in as though taking you into his confidence. “Statesman,” he says with a wink.

    You’re a little surprised but shrug and reach down for the dusty bottle you think you have tucked behind the more well-known labels. While you’re pouring, you take a moment to consider the stranger. He’s slightly older than you, judging by the lines around his eyes, the deep furrow between his dark brows. His lips are full, generous even, though you’re a little distracted by the neat mustache above them (a bold choice these days, with no accompanying beard). Between the hat, the mustache, and his suit, he gives off a decidedly Western vibe- not what you’re used to in your college town pub.

    Setting down the glass in front of him you ask, deadpan “and will your horse be alright hitched out front?”

    He chortles appreciatively at your joke and launches into an improvised response. Seeing that they’ve been dismissed, the trio of bros slouch away after tossing a few crumpled bills onto the bar. No tip, obviously.

    The rest of the night passes uneventfully, a blur of thirsty patrons and loud music. As things wind down and you have time to hear yourself think once more, the interaction keeps nagging at you. The cowboy, still seated at the bar, notices the way you’re slamming glasses down harder than necessary and calls out “something on your mind, sugar?” 

    You cock an eyebrow ironically and toss a rag over your shoulder. “shouldn’t I be asking you that?” you say, leaning down on the bar in classic ‘sympathetic bartender’ pose. He chuckles but waits expectantly. You sigh and ask “don’t you just hate it?”  

    His brows draw together, uncomprehending. “What’s that?” 

    “People hitting on you out of the blue. Like, those guys didn’t even know me.  I smile at them, make conversation - you know, do my goddamn job, and they take it as an invitation.”

    “Ah.” He shifts on his seat, uncomfortably aware of his own intentions in that direction. “Can’t say I’ve ever minded that- though, if you’ll pardon me saying ma’am, they were some pushy sons of bitches.”

    You smile at that, but look down, sighing. No one ever seems to understand- always seeming far more comfortable with casual dating and hookup culture. It’s not that you judge them for it- if anything, you envy their ease navigating sexual situations. 

    “Yeah, well. Thanks for the assist, anyway.” 

    The grin that spreads over his face is sweet as molasses and he tips his hat before draining his glass and placing a hefty tip on the bar. “Pleasure’s all mine, sug- ma’am.” You watch him head for the door, your own lips curve into an amused, answering smile as you start closing things down for the night.

    You see him again the following night. His unusual order was as memorable as his rescue and that ridiculous hat, so you nod and say “hey, Whiskey.” 

    He stiffens, his eyes widening, then narrowing. “Now there’s a neat trick. How’d you pull that one off?” A note of steel you don’t remember from the previous night runs through his words, his voice colder and you’d expected.

    You raise your eyebrows. “How did I, the bartender, remember your drink order?” You’re not sure whether to laugh or feel insulted. 

    The cowboy’s face relaxes into good-natured charm so quickly you wonder if you’d imagine the steely calm that had dominated his featured moments before. “Silly me. You can call me Jack though. In fact, I surely do wish you would.” He beams at you and you get the sense he’s used to getting what he wants.

    “I think I’m gonna stick with Whiskey.”

    Whiskey comes in more nights than not after that, and he always makes it a point to stop and chat with you. He doesn’t hit on you, or call you any more pet names. Calls you ma’am, or boss. You joke that if he keeps that up you’ll put him to work. It turns into a game, him doing a trash run or drying glasses.

    You watch him take home a series of women, always nodding to you with a wink as he leaves. You laugh it off, but as you grow closer, the different way he treats you starts to chafe. He doesn’t even call you by any nicknames anymore, and you start to wonder if you’d imagined him calling you sugar the night you meant. It’s fine. It’s respectful, and you appreciate that but sometimes… sometimes you let yourself fantasize about a little more.

    You don’t seem to notice that over time, he seems to leave with women less often, spending more and more nights regaling you with increasingly unlikely yarns until closing time until one night, you give in and ask about the cowboy thing directly. 

    “Ok but what do you do for a living? I don’t imagine there’s many ranches around here,” you say with a pointed look at his outfit.

    He looks around theatrically, a devilish grin dancing in his eyes. “Well now don’t go tellin’ anyone, but I’m a secret agent.” He gives you a conspiratorial wink.

    You roll your eyes. “If that were true, it would actually be a decent cover.”

    He chuckles and takes a sip of his drink. “You have no idea.”

    ——

    Several weeks go by before you see him again and you’re beginning to wonder if your new friend has moved on to another bar. On a night when you’ve stopped even glancing at the door and just when you’re about to close, Whiskey stumbles in, a blast of cold air following him. Surprised happiness shifts to concern as you look up as you note the tension in his shoulders and the way his hat is pushed down low over one eye. He gives you a small wave, more of a tense jerk than anything else, and you rush over to help him into a nearby booth. “Whiskey, what the hell happened?” He shrugs, the movement making him wince. “It’s nothing. I could really use a drink and some company though, if you’ve any to spare?” 

    The request takes you by surprise, and not just from his sudden appearance. This is such a change from his usual glib charm and smooth one-liners that you take a second look. He looks tired, strained, and when you reach to push up the brim of his hat, he hisses in pain. “You’re hurt!” A gash above his right eye is oozing fresh blood and you grab for some napkins to press against it, attempting to staunch the flow. Whiskey’s eyes are soft as they meet yours and his fingers glance against yours as he reaches up to press the makeshift bandage closer, sending a spark skittering up your arm. 

    “Much obliged, boss.”

    Swallowing, you nod and draw back. “I have a first aid kit behind the bar. I’ll- I’ll go get it.” 

    Seeing him like this has undone something in you, made him more real, somehow. Beneath all that flash and gimmick there’s a man who seemingly has nowhere else to go when he needs comfort or assistance. It tugs at you, making you wonder if perhaps he values your friendship as much as you’ve come to value his.

    Whiskey is still dabbing at his forehead when you return with the first aid kit. You slide into the booth beside him and lift the bloodied napkins away gently. “Here, let me.”

    Whiskey is unusually quiet as you work, sitting stock still while you clean the wound, barely flinching when you dab it with stinging antiseptic. It’s odd, sitting here with him in near silence. Instead of his usual chatter, the otherwise empty bar is filled with the wistful lyrics of Tom Petty’s “Wildflowers” emanating from the jukebox. You rest your hand on his cheek while you bandage the cut, the line of his jaw sharp beneath your palm. Has he been eating enough? This close, you can see every shade of brown in his tired eyes and feel the warmth radiating from his skin. Your breaths mingle and you find yours catching. 

    “There.” Smoothing your thumb over a butterfly bandage, you pull back to check your handiwork. “How’s that?”

    The deep furrow between Whiskey’s eyes smooths out as he meets your gaze. “Perfect.” His voice is deeper than usual, laced with fatigue and tinged with pain, but you can hear the earnestness in it. “Thank you.”

    “Don’t mention it.” You busy yourself gathering the fallen wrappers and cast aside gauze, suddenly unsure where to look. You’ve gotten so used to trading banter and barbs with the man who’s become one of your closest friends that this shift into vulnerability leaves you reeling, unsure of your bearings. 

    Reaching for normality, you clear your throat and rise, sweeping the discarded items into a nearby trash can. “I’ll get you that drink now. You wanna tell me who did this to you?”

    Leaning back against the booth, Whiskey’s lips turn up in a small, sad smile. “Would you believe me if I said Russian spies?”

    You huff a laugh, relieved to be back on familiar ground. “Well, whatever happened, I’m glad to have you back.”

    “You have got to be kidding me.” You brace your forehead against the cold steel service door, trash bag in hand and the freezing wind already playing over your bare arms. In a rush to finish closing and get home, you’d forgotten to prop the back door open before ducking out for one last trash run and the door had slammed shut behind you, stranding you in the alley behind the pub late one January night in nothing but your t-shirt and thin jeans. A quick check confirms your fear- you’ve left your phone inside as well.

    You throw the bag into the dumpster and slam the lid closed, a steady stream of curses falling from your lips, hoping your anger will keep you warm while you figure out what the hell to do next.

    “Now, is that any way for a lady like yourself to carry on?”

    Whirling around, you spot Whiskey leaning against the far side of the alley, a teasing grin on his face and a thick leather jacket wrapped around him, its wooly collar brushing his handsome jawline. His breath puffs out in clouds as white as the cold stars far above you.

    “Since when have I been remotely ladylike?” You arch your brow and hug yourself for warmth, clenching your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering. “Maybe you can model courtly behavior by being a gentleman and getting the door for me?” You don’t really expect him to- it’s locked from the inside and the front is already shut tight as well. You have a spare key of course, but it’s tucked safely into the pocket of your winter coat- inside. If nothing else, he can maybe call a locksmith before you freeze to death.

    “Stand aside, then,” he drawls. Whiskey pulls a small, flat box from his back pocket and draws out two thin tools that almost look like-

    “Are those lockpicks?”

    “Never leave home without ‘em.”

    “Um… why?”

    “To ride to the rescue of damsels in distress, of course. Here, hold this for me.” Shrugging off his coat, he drapes it around your shivering shoulders. It settles around you, heavy and comforting, his warmth seeping down to your bones and the shearling collar brushing your chin. You sigh and relax into its hold while Whiskey kneels in front of the door. He slides the lockpicks into the lock with a practiced ease that surprises you as much as his having them in the first place.

    “One of these days you really will have to tell me what you do for a living.” 

    “Where would be the fun in that?” With a wink and a flick of his wrist, he turns to the task at hand. In seconds, the lock clicks and he pushes the door open, a look of triumph on his face. “After you, boss.” 

    You’re almost sorry to step back into the light and warmth of the bar and it hits you- you’d rather stay beneath the chilly stars, wrapped up in his coat, the scent of his aftershave coiling around you, warm and spicy and reminding you of nights spent laughing with him, than return to the comfort of being indoors.

    When you go to hand Whiskey’s coat back to him, your hand knocks clumsily against his. Heat creeps up your neck and blooms in your cheeks as you stammer a thank you, feeling unaccountably awkward in his familiar presence. Christ, what’s wrong with-

    Oh.

    Oh.

    You’re falling for your best friend.

    Well, shit.

    He comes in one especially quiet night to find you standing with your arms crossed glowering up at one corner of the bar. Coming to stand behind you, he tilts his own head and looks upward, laying eyes on the object of your scorn: a balloon.

    “Bachelorette party,” you say, as though those two terse words explain everything and really, don’t they? Whiskey can easily imagine it: a barful of demanding, entitled, overly loud customers intent on being overserved and as obnoxious as humanly possible. No wonder you’re glaring at that wayward decoration hovering just out of reach like it had insulted your entire family. 

    “Ah. Want me to get it down for you?” 

    You turn, an eyebrow raised. He’s not that much taller than you, and even with those arms how does he expect to-

    Before you can thank him or offer to get a ladder, he’s palming a leather handled device clipped to his belt and sliding his thumb up a hidden switch, revealing it to be a lasso of all things. With a grin, he cocks his arm back and flicks the whip with the smooth, assured motion of an expert. The lash cracks and the offending balloon explodes into tatters of red latex. 

    “Well,” you breathe, more than a little stunned by this unexpected display of another hidden talent. “That’s one way to do it.” 

    Whiskey glances over and the smug look on his face slips as he mistakes your glazed look for concern, your hitching breath for alarm. It’s not, and later that night, alone in your bed, you wring orgasm after orgasm from your heated sex, that snap still ringing in your ears. 

    He’s back the following night, likely drawn in by the live musical act you’ve booked. They’re good, this band. You’ve hired them before and they always put on a great show, a lively blend of classic rock covers that gets even the shyest customer out on the dance floor. 

    You’re polishing glasses behind the bar when he sidles up to you. Instead of a drink, he’s come in search of something else. “Hey, boss. Dance with me?” 

    “Whiskey,” you laugh, “I can’t dance, I have a bar to run.” 

    “Sure you can. One song?”

    You’re about to decline again when you catch the look in his eyes. There’s no teasing there, just invitation and something almost plaintive. For a second, you wonder if he’s started to feel the same spark you have. Before you can talk yourself out of it you step out from behind the bar and take his outstretched hand, marveling at how gently he engulfs your smaller one, tugging you inexorably towards the press of dancing bodies.

    What had started as a raucous cover of the Romantics’ “What I Like About You” downshifts into a soulful rendition of “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac.

    His hands are warm and steady on your hips, then around your waist, then moving up your back as he pulls you closer, or maybe you’re leaning in. Either way, when your cheek is pressed against his chest, your eyes drift closed and you breathe him in. Leather and smoke and something oddly like gunpowder.  

    He smells like late nights. Like safety.

    Like home.

    Just as you’re gathering your courage to tell him as much, the musicians lay down their instruments, announcing a quick break to a burst of applause. It’s enough to break the spell.

    “Thanks for the dance, boss,” Whiskey murmurs as he tips his hat, his eyes searching yours. Before you can speak, he nods to you and turns on his heel, already making for the far side of the room. Not wanting to see him ask another woman to dance, you turn away and make for the safety of the bar, chiding yourself as you go. 

    Of course the dance hadn’t meant anything. If it had, he wouldn’t have left you to dance with someone else. He was just being friendly. Friends can dance with each other without it meaning anything. And that’s what you are- friends.

    You’re just not sure that’s enough for you anymore. 

    Before, you’d laugh and shake your head as Whiskey headed for the door with a new woman on his arm, tipping his ridiculous hat and winking at you. 

    But now…

    He doesn’t even seem to have a type. You’ve seen him head out the door with women of every description, from drop dead gorgeous to, well, a little on the plain side. You can’t tell if it speaks to a deeper side of Whiskey’s character than you’ve perhaps given him credit for, or if it’s just that he’ll take home any woman who looks his way- except you.

    Some nights, the idea that he’ll burn through every one of your female customers and disappear, all without ever so much as flirting with you, makes you ache.

    You try to push it out of your mind. You’ve come to cherish his friendship, his whip-snap banter- hell, even his cowboy shtick is growing on you. You’re not sure when it started but you’ve started searching for him in the crush of weekend customers, quietly hoping you’ll see the broad curve of his smile, or hear the telltale clink of the spurs you’d called him out on wearing them in your bar once.

    “Damn it Whiskey, could you at least take those things off before you come inside?”

    “And why would I do such a thing? I’m bringing a sense of authenticity to your fine establishment. How else are you gonna bring in that hipster crowd without genuine distressed floors? They love that shit.” 

    It was only later that you realized the spurs didn’t actually touch the floor at all, that he’d just been teasing. 

    The last customers of the night trail out, leaving you alone with a mountain of dishes and your self pity. It’s rare for you to fall for anyone, and it just figures that it would be someone who so clearly isn’t interested. For God’s sake, you’ve seen Whiskey making out with girls he’s just met, but the instant you accidentally brush too close to him, the man freezes. 

    To hell with it. You don’t want to sit around pining like some lovesick fool. First thing tomorrow you’re going to download one of those godawful dating apps, unsolicited dick pics and all, and put yourself back out there. Anything would be better than this.

    —-

    Three weeks of awkward, sparkless first dates with men who either come on too strong or ghost you has you rethinking that assessment. It all comes to a head late one night when things go to shit with a guy you’d actually started to become interested in. 

    Things started off so well: he’d messaged you about one of the movies listed on your profile, and the two of you had fallen into a nightly routine of chatting about your favorite movies, shows, podcasts, and books. He seems funny and kind. After a few days he invites you for late night “drinks,” though it’s clear he has something else in mind. You’ve been disarmed enough that you open up to him and talk candidly about your experiences dating as a demisexual woman. You say that you like him, and ask if he’d be ok with taking things slow as it usually took some time for romantic or sexual attraction to develop for you.

    His tone changes immediately. He accuses you of leading him on. The about face is so sudden it leaves you reeling. You apologize, then feel furious with yourself for apologizing. He signs off with a dismissive “whatever. go waste someone else’s time. bitch.” 

    You stare down at your phone in shock as tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. You slam the phone against the bar and start to cry angry, hurt tears at the same instant that the door swings open.

    “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. I was sure you’d have closed up by now but-“ Whiskey cuts himself off, his eyes narrowing as you turn and and try to dash the tears from your cheeks. 

    “H-hey Whiskey. You want the usual?” Your voice trembles and you curse yourself inwardly, hating that show of weakness.

    “What happened?” His eyes take in the surroundings, scanning for any potential threat. He knows you well enough to know that you never cry where people can see, and his thunderous expression promises swift, merciless retribution for whoever upset you.

    You shake your head and reach for his bottle of Statesman. “It’s nothing.” 

    “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. It ain’t nothing.” He crosses the floor in a few quick strides, those damn spurs ringing like tiny bells. He tilts your chin up, worry etched deep in his expression. “What happened?”

    It’s the gentle way he softens his tone, like he’s talking to a spooked horse, that breaks down the last of your defenses. You tell him everything- the string of lackluster dates, the one-sided conversations, and finally, everything that happened with the last guy. 

    The stormy look crosses Whiskey’s face once more as you tell him some of what the man had said. 

    “I should have known,” you say, blowing your nose on the handkerchief he’d offered silently. “I always have an awful time with those sites but I just- I thought I should try again, you know? Even if all I ever end up doing is ‘wasting someone’s time.’”

    Whiskey looks at you, appalled. “Tell me you’re not letting what that bastard said get to you.”

    You give a bitter laugh. “Why not? He’s right. I can’t just date like a normal person. Something in me is missing, or, I don’t know, broken. Why else have I been single for so fucking long?”

    You stop, surprised, as Whiskey grabs hold of your face, looking searchingly at you. “That’s the stupidest goddamn thing I’ve heard in my entire life. You are so many things, but you are not broken. You’re beautiful. Funny. Hard-working. Successful. Kind.” Every compliment is interrupted by a chaste kiss- on your cheek, your brow, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth while you stand there, stunned.

    “You are incredible,” Whiskey says vehemently, moving to place one more reassuring kiss on your face, when your eyes meet his, soft and searching, and then-

    It’s the moment a flock of birds rise into the sky, separate but enmeshed, answering the same silent call as one. It’s the roll of thunder before rain. It’s lightning striking home. 

    Neither of you can decide, later, who made that final move, that last tip towards the surge of passion that flares, sudden and consuming, as your lips finally meet. After a moment, an eternity, of surprise, it’s a frantic rush of tongues and teeth. Whiskey tilting your chin, your hand fisted at his collar. His hand on your cheek, your gasp in his mouth. He grips you tight, afraid to let go, to let this moment end. Still, he pulls back for a moment, his dark eyes searching yours. “Is this ok? I thought-“

    You cut him off with a nod, a breathy, decisive affirmation. “Yes. Jack, please-“

    He nearly rushes you off your feet in his desperate bid to close the distance between you once more, his movements uncharacteristically clumsy. Your lips tug into a smile as he crowds you against the bar, and you can feel his answering grin against your mouth before he deepens the kiss. 

    His hips brush yours, thighs touching, heat sparking, and you step even closer, lips locked with his. Only when you’re ready to gasp for air does he release you. His thumb traces the edge of your lower lip, his own only a breath away. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear my name falling from these pretty lips, sugar.” 

    And oh, your heart nearly leaps free of your aching chest. You hadn’t imagined it, hadn’t dreamt it- the word has the ring of memory, of truth. 

    You force yourself to take a beat, despite the way your body is yearning for his touch. “You never said…”

    “And I am sorry for that, darlin,’ truly I am.” His hands meet at the small of your back, a close embrace ready to shift at a moment’s notice but patient, waiting- for now. “But you were so dead set against flirting and I didn’t want to chase you away.” 

    You shrug, a little defensively, remembering that first night the two of you had met. “I’m a little sensitive about it when it’s people I don’t know but, once we were friends, once I knew you… I thought you just didn’t find me attractive.” 

    He shakes his head, rolling his eyes skyward before reaching for you once more. “Honey, let me show you what an absolutely foolish notion that is.” 

    When he kisses you this time it’s slower, sweeter, and it sends heat licking up your spine. You twine your arms around his neck as he backs you up until your hips hit the bar and glasses rattle behind you. You pull back only once your lungs are screaming for air, and, starry-eyed and breathless, ask “Maybe you could show me somewhere a little more private?” 

    A feline grin slinks across Jack’s features in answer to your own. “It’d be my pleasure, darlin.”

    To be continued…

    #Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels x Reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels x F!Reader #Whiskey x Fem!Reader #Whiskey x F!Reader #Whiskey x F!Bartender #Fic#My fic #In from the Cold #I'll do some more work on this later #getting it on a03 and such #but I'm heading out and wanted to hit post first :p
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  • breannacasey
    05.12.2021 - 37 minutes ago

    I finished a fic in a way that if people were to actually read it, it could make them want a follow up. I don't know if I'll write the second one, but since people only read ship fics and comment even less on non-ship fics, it doesn't matter

    #anyway this is the third fic i finish since i lost the motivation to edit anything #i will have to edit the leverage exchange one soon though #first i lost the motivation to post stuff #now i've lost the motivation to edit stuff #can't be a good sign #but then what is the point of editing them right away if i don't post them #i'll have to go through them again when i decide to post to know what tags i need to put on them #and in the case of the edited ones i'll need to read through to figure out a title also #my writing#my post #i'm actually making progress on finishing wips but i sabotaged myself by posting a prompt request thing #not that i'm getting requests but still this is ridiculous #but anyway i needed shorter things to work on because soon all the wips left will be longer stuff
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  • tofufei
    05.12.2021 - 40 minutes ago

    福禄寿 《我用什么把你留住》 — How can I make you stay by FloruitShow

    嘿 你忘了 划过伤口的冷风 嘿 你信了 不痛不痒就算过了一生 诶 你为什么 看见雪飘落就会想唱歌 为什么 在放手时刻眼泪会掉落 You have forgotten the cold wind cutting into the wound. You believed that you could live a life by not facing your pain. Why do you get the urge to start singing when you see the falling snow? Why — do your tears fall the moment you let go?

    一个一个走过 一个一个错过 一遍一遍来过 一次一次放过 Walking past one by one, Missing each other one by one. Again and again you have come, Again and again you have let go.

    一声一声笑着 一声一声吼着 一幕一幕闪着 刺痛我 Sounds of laughter, Sounds of shouting. Each flash of memory stabs me so.

    因为享受着它的灿烂 因为忍受着它的腐烂 你说别爱啊 又依依不舍 所以生命啊 它苦涩如歌 Because we’re reveling in its brilliance. Because we’re enduring its rot. You say, please, don’t love, and yet you can’t bear to part. Therefore life, oh, life is bitter like a song.

    因为享受着它的灿烂 因为忍受着它的腐烂 你说别追啊 又依依不舍 所以生命啊 它苦涩如歌 Because we’re reveling in its brilliance. Because we’re enduring its rot. You say, please, don’t chase after it, and yet you can’t bear to let go. Therefore life, oh, life is bitter like a song.

    嘿 你睡了 可时间它依然走着 嘿 你怕了 恍然抬头梦却醒了 你会静默 手握着星火等在至暗时刻 你被击破 当熟悉呢喃又穿透耳朵 You have fallen asleep but time still marches on. You’re afraid, suddenly lifting your head but the dream has dispersed. You will be mourning in silence, holding onto a meteor spark, waiting in the hour darkness falls. You were broken the moment the familiar whisper reached your ears again.

    一个一个走过 一个一个错过 一遍一遍来过 一次一次放过 Walking past one by one, Missing each other one by one. Again and again you have come, Again and again you have let go.

    一声一声笑着 一声一声吼着 一幕一幕闪着 刺痛我 Sounds of laughter, Sounds of shouting. Each flash of memory stabs me so.

    因为享受着它的灿烂 因为忍受着它的腐烂 你说别爱啊 又依依不舍 所以生命啊 它苦涩如歌 Because we’re reveling in its brilliance. Because we’re enduring its rot. You say, please, don’t love, and yet you can’t bear to part. Therefore life, oh, life is bitter like a song.

    想不想看花海盛开 想不想看燕子归来 如果都回不来 那么我该为了谁而存在 Do you want to see the sea of flowers flourish? Do you want to see the swallows return? If they all cannot come back, Then who should I live for?

    想不想看花海盛开 想不想看燕子归来 如果都回不来 那么我该为了谁而存在 Don’t you want to see the sea of flowers flourish? Don’t you want to see the swallows return? If no one can come back, Then who should I live for?

    因为享受着它的灿烂 因为忍受着它的腐烂 你说别追啊 又依依不舍 所以生命啊 它苦涩如歌 Because we’re reveling in its brilliance. Because we’re enduring its rot. You say, please, don’t chase after it and yet you can’t bear to let go. Therefore life, oh, life is bitter like a song.

    在这浩瀚星河你是什么 在他温柔眼眸的你是什么 闪着光坠落 又依依不舍 所以生命啊 它璀璨如歌 In the vast galaxy of stars — what are you? The you in his warm eyes — what are you to him? As you’re falling, you are burning bright, and still you can’t let go. Therefore life, oh, life is glorious like a song.

    #fhdsas the quickest song TL I've ever made and I'll probably tweak it in the future #just need to post it so that I can go work on other stuff #song TLs#fei translates
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  • computerlads
    05.12.2021 - 49 minutes ago

    clara schott and esme olsen-danvers // mutuals may reblog!

    #v. ⸢ edits ⸥ i got mad sewing skills. #ii. ⸢ clara schott ⸥ a million years from here you’ll be dancing still. #esme olsen danvers tbt. #is this even good? who knows #but I put in too much effort not to post it #and yes I know corinne is too old here to be current clara but this is what I have to work with so this is what we get
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  • dxfiedfxte
    05.12.2021 - 51 minutes ago

    Pre-Plotted Starter || @electricea 

    This had been his mission for a while now, watching over the Phantom Thieves from afar, from all he had witnessed thus far from his observations. These teenagers were the next generation of Persona-Users that would fight Shadows, if there was one generation after them, then why wouldn’t there be another group after the others after the Investigation team. Minato and his friends still kept in touch with Narukami and his friends to see how they were doing and to make sure they weren’t dealing with any trouble of their own. Thankfully on their end of Japan, things were peaceful, so it seemed that the Shadows were all centered around one part of Japan in particular, the city of Tokyo, he still didn’t completely understand how these shadows came to be, but from what he knew thus far, the shadow of a person reflected their innermost desires which created the palaces that they had been to. 

    From what he’d seen, their goal was to steal the treasure (also known as their heart) which would prompt some kind of change, it still didn’t make a lot of sense although, then again. Whenever it came to Shadows, it didn’t really need to make sense. With their initial appearance, it was easy to mistake them for the bad guys, when in reality, they were the good guys all this time. From the depths of Tartarus, into the Television world, and now many years after, yet another world of shadows, this time hidden inside a smartphone app. If even Shadows were modernizing, then it meant whomever the next generation after this one, would be in for quite the battle, regardless, the Shadow Operatives would always be there, ready to deal with whatever came next. 

    After monitoring them for a few months, it was the very first time they were in the palace of a real criminal and not just someone who had corrupt inner desires. As great of a job as they’d done so far, Minato had a bad feeling about this one, he felt like something would happen today, so he listened to that feeling, and made sure to follow them inside, but making sure he remains out of sight and out of detection range for their navigator who was some sort of cat. Tailing the Phantom Thieves from above, he follows, hugging shade sticking to cover and staying above ground so he remains out of sight. As he follows them to a larger area, the feeling he had felt in his stomach proved to be correct, as the Thieves were surrounded by Kaneshiro’s shadow guards. Just as he’s about to step in, the young lady that had joined them suddenly begins awakening to her power, and to his surprise, even manifests a motorcycle out of energy, she had a particular powerful Persona. 

    Witnessing the new Persona-User lay waste to a bunch of the guards while temporarily clearing a path, she takes off not long after. At first, it looks like the others are going to make it, but just before the rest of the group could reach the opening, it was very quickly blocked by guards, forcing the others back into their grasp. This is it, the moment where he needed to step in, so this was why he had a bad feeling, he was glad he followed his instincts on this one. With seemingly no way out for the Phantom Thieves, Minato makes his move.

    Jumping down from a chandelier, he lands, a blue masked figure with blue hair, a white armor designed to fashion the appearance of a white turtleneck, clad in a long black coat with torn split ends, black pants, and shoes. 

    [{ 🦋 }] - “Messiah! Take those shadows down!”

    Quickly rising to his feet, before the guards could get a chance to even look his way, he puts what looks like his evoker to his temple and pulls the trigger, blue energy bursts out the opposite side of his head and the persona Messiah manifests into place, immediately unleashing a powerful Cosmic Flare, inflicting severe nuke damage to all of the guards that were previously surrounding them and wiping them out managing to clear a full path behind them. Unfortunately, reinforcements weren’t far behind and quickly joined the battle. Well, he was here now, his best bet, was to hold these guys off while the Phantom Thieves made their escape.

    [{ 🦋 }] - “You guys get out of here while you have a chance! I’ll hold them off!” He shouts back to them, brandishing his one-handed sword, he quickly swings his sword and dices up some attacking shadows.

    Channeling more Soul Power, Messiah lets out another Cosmic Flare, since these shadows were weak to it. More are coming, and he’s more than ready, but much to his surprise, there was still one Phantom Thief left at his side, it was the blonde in the skull mask, was he not able to get out with the others in time? Damn, he’d have to force the Shadows to make another opening, which was no problem, he just needed to wait for the right moment.

    [{ 🦋 }] - “Hey, I’ll lure them away, the moment you see an opening, take it and join your friends.”

    #electricea #ᴠ; Oᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇs & Tʜɪᴇᴠᴇs (Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀ 5) #Fᴏʟʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ Mʏ OWN Fᴀᴛᴇ (IC) #//So sorry this took so long Jassi! #//had this set to post a few days ago #//but then I saw some mistakes and I wanted to fix them first #//anyway I hope it was worth the wait! #//Ryuji could either fight with him until he creates an opening #//or stay with him and help him clear out the rest #//Whichever works! #//I'm looking forward to having a main thread with you finally btw! :) #Cᴀɴ I ɢᴏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴅ ɴᴏᴡ? (Qᴜᴇᴜᴇ)
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  • umbralstars
    05.12.2021 - 51 minutes ago

    Darya, unprompted: I love you.

    Rufus: A horrible decision, really.

    Darya: Yet one I make willingly every day.

    Rufus: /shook/ i...i love you too...

    #working on sappy fics makes my posts tooth-rottingly sweet #rufus gets to be happy for 2 secs...as a treat
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  • hamsternamedmarinette
    05.12.2021 - 1 hour ago

    This project is nowhere near finished, but I’m impatient and want to show it to people, so here are some frames from the animatic of @buggachat​’s bakery “enemies” au I’ve been very slowly working on (it’s to the song What Baking Can Do from Waitress) 

    #i promise marinette is in this animatic too i just haven't gotten to any of her frames yet #gooossshhh i wish so badly i could just show what's in my brain to you all without having to draw it all because IT'S SO GOOD IN MY HEAD #but since i'm done with school in less than a week maybe i shall work on it more starting then #buggachat if you ever feel bad about taking long with the comic: please don't #because the longer you take with the comic the more time i have to work on this <3 #bakery enemies au #my post#my art#buggachat
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  • loopnoid
    05.12.2021 - 1 hour ago

    oh! people! i've been meaning to ask. is tumblr's alt text functional now? i remember for a long while it was completely useless (back when it used to appear as white subtitles under the image) but i've seen it mentioned recently as an option

    #on twt i id my art religiously but tumblr is a broken website so idk how #if it does work now ill start id-ing everything and go back to id old posts too if i'm able #again idr my talking tag lmao #txt
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  • wwdpd
    05.12.2021 - 1 hour ago

    Here’s the new ink! It’s a little elf on the shelf just in time for the holiday season!

    Now if I can just think of a name for him that’d be great

    #life post #elf on the shelf tattoo #dolly parton tattoo #elf on the shelf #dolly parton #love is like a butterfly #i love christmas #jingle jingle jingle #girls with tattoos #tattoos#me #it was for charity #getting work done for the kids
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  • ultra-violet-heart
    05.12.2021 - 1 hour ago
    #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba: yuukaku hen #demon slayer: entertainment district arc #uzui tengen #I've been DYING to post and speak about this but cannot due to work #repost since I post the wrong images earlier #kimetsu no yaiba fanbook two
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  • melmalone
    05.12.2021 - 1 hour ago
    #anonymous#melina answers #very kind ask 💛 #literally every time one of my fics flop i'm just like 'oh guess i fucking SUCK' #and i get flashbacks of when i used to post domestic avengers x reader works on my old account and only ever got like 6 notes on a fic
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  • anyhao
    05.12.2021 - 2 hours ago

    I hate time zone differences if only because by the time I'm awake I feel like I missed everything and I'm behind lol it all feels like a catch up game from there lmao there's just SO MUCH info at once...

    #and that's not even to mention by the time I'm able to gif anything #after school and work #it ends up being 16+ hours after the thing I wanted to gif #and it just feels pointless sometimes like #there's this rush to get something out as soon as it releases #and it's like... not reasonable for me #so I get discouraged lol #because it's been done already #because everyone's already seen and rb what they like #because if you're not first you're not best #it's really like what's the point #i don't think it helps that by the time i AM able to post something #it seems no one's online anyway #and so then I wait several hours LONGER #to post it in hopes of doing it at a good time #and it flops anyway #let's be honest there's no real good time to post #not anymore #idk I'm just feeling discouraged I guess #and so then I do a bunch of srb #and THEN I start feeling bad and annoying #there's just no winning in giffing #it always feels like a losing battle and I'm tired of it #mtxt #and usually when I rant like this #i say some stupid apology at the end #but I'm #not sorry at this point #it is all true and I don't care #i know this is just whining but I needed to get it out
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  • ithacanradio
    05.12.2021 - 2 hours ago

    (average tumblr user voice) ooo chinese censorship is so evil i can't see these characters from a canon lgbt story that got adapted for a mainstream audience fuck on screen. anyway merlin was the pinnacle of gay representation in tv.

    #this is a no nuance post cause none of us wants to reda a block of text dont at me #I haven't even read exactly how the censorship works and neither have you im betting #and it affects real ppl first n foremost yeah sure i know #im just tired of the jokes 😭 why do westerners have one joke #it's like we gotta climb on our little moral high ground chair before engaging with international content #except girl that chair is infested by moths n about to break and also its not real get down #anyway. its just the level in which guardian is not subtext at all. it got to me.
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