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there wasn’t a particular thing that had set off her water works. head space was a term that people frequently used but hers was ever shifting. she went from icing matthew out to begging for his affection; the two had been on and off for years and there was still secrets. she didn’t trust him or his temperament and that was very telling. brow furrowing, the woman couldn’t help but get defensive. “what? are you calling me a liar?” if the shoe fits… josette hadn’t necessarily lied to matthew but she had withheld life-changing information from him. was she a liar or someone who had told a few major lies? did it make her a liar? still, her use of the word proved that she was jumping to conclusions and seeing the other’s tone as accusatory as opposed to impartial. without even waiting for a response, jo interjected herself. “i’m not a liar…” when the other sat beside her, the older woman’s eyes darted in the opposite direction, shuffling away slightly to not only make room but to create distance. it was an avoidance tactic she had witnessed more than enough times. josette did care about people, she just hadn’t been on the other side, of people wanting to listen to her, very often. her partner would shut her down if she brought something up or would suggest that she was being sensitive.”i’m not a liar.” she repeated again, this time more as a melancholic mumble. thumbs fighting with each other as they overlapped, she kept her eyes down. “just not sure why i started crying. i probably sound ridiculous.” again, it was something that matthew had said many-a-time. the man could make her feel both terrible and wonderful about herself. shame and guilt, feelings that jo had become very accustomed to, would always be there and they’d play right into his hands. it was almost as if she had an infatuation with him, especially when they weren’t an item - no one else would have her but he’d always welcome her and forgive. “i think i’m failing with my relationship.”
/ ♡ { ❝ Alright 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒓, you just excel in misdirection ❞ playfully she rolls her eyes, sinking into the bench, leaning her head back and feeling a 𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 in the stasis of her new reality ❝ –– maybe you should sign up to be a magical assistant. ❞ ––– she snorts ––– ❝ I bet their hiring. You’re slim enough to fit in one of those boxes where they saw you in half for claps and ooooohs, and ahhhhhhs. ❞ she breaks again 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒆, ❝ I mean pretend to saw you in half. There’s an illusion to it. ❞ her voice dances in a trill at the end of her sentence. making light of her situations is 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 helping her in comforting the poor soul she sits next to, ❝ but seriously every time you repeat your words, one sentence after another, the less you make me want to believe you. ❞ she pouts for the other. jade green eyes soften to hopefully compensate for the brashness, and the over compensation of strength in the tone of her voice. ❝ You do sound a little ridiculous, but again 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, and sometimes, I cry for no reason too. ❞ she thinks that it’s okay to reveal this information to a stranger –-– 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. she doesn’t feel as guilty in that spoken revelation, but her choices in trying to validate those feelings feel underhanded. she fixes this, or tries to, warring with the part of her brain that begs for her to display compassion, ❝ I’d even say it’s 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫, if that makes you feel better. I mean seriously, you can make your own morals, fuck everyone else. ❞ she takes a pause, stopping to ask, ❝ Does it make you feel better? ❞ and then 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐛 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟 and harley gains context –– 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑. she’s been there, 𝒔𝒉𝒆’𝒔 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 –– she’s put her old dusty wedding ring in a jewelry box in a storage unit too. 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, a little too much. ❝ How long have you two been together? ❞ she asks, ❝ maybe you just need to have a serious talk? ❞ she, of course, sounds naive, and completely ignorant to what the other needs, but she tries again, ❝ Is it them that’s the problem or is it you? Of course, it's a them problem. It's always them. ❞
EYE COLOUR : hazel appearing to shift in color from brown to green, specifically jade green
HAIR STYLE / COLOR : shoulder length blonde with faded pink coloring at the end –– tussled and naturally messy curls –– often found in a high bun
HEIGHT : 5’4”
CLOTHING STYLE : shoes are always clunky and platform-styled to compensate for her height. baggy Levi’s jeans ( boyfriend style cargos or tailored wide leg trousers ), an undersized plain tee or cropped bustiers to show midriff, sunglasses are a must, as well as a statement necklace, with matching gold jewelry, an occasional hat to pull her bun through, and the occasional oversized blazer when the weather permits.
PHYSICAL FEATURE : striking eyes, when ridden with compassion, she’s been told it’s her super power
𝙻 𝙰 𝚈 𝙴 𝚁 ♡♡2 : THE INSIDE .
FEARS : abandonment, commitment, spiders, elephants, and childbirth
GUILTY PLEASURES : cocaine, sweet white wines, cheeses and public sex
BIGGEST PET PEEVE : interrupting, texting during a meal (especially on dates), scraping silverware, when others leave cabinets open, the use of profanity for edginess, one-uppers, pick me girls, and using words the wrong way “Just say talk.”
AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE: learn to navigate her own life without the help of others
𝙻 𝙰 𝚈 𝙴 𝚁 ♡♡ 3 : THOUGHTS .
FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP : “I’ve got to pee”
WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST : her image
WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED : a plethora of anxieties
WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS : her eyes and fashion style
𝙻 𝙰 𝚈 𝙴 𝚁 ♡♡ 4 : WHAT’S BETTER ?
SINGLE OR GROUP DATES : single ––– she doesn’t like sharing her partner’s attention and she won’t ask them to do the same
TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED : loved ––– respect typically involves an exchange of respect, and she gives hers rarely
BEAUTY OR BRAINS : brains –– lessons learned from her ex husband
DOGS OR CATS : she doesn’t mind either, but personally she’d prefer to be pet-less
𝙻 𝙰 𝚈 𝙴 𝚁 ♡♡ 5 : DO THEY …
LIE : she hardly needs to, but of course, she does
BELIEVE IN THEMSELF : not really
BELIEVE IN LOVE : despite her cynicism and brutal honesty, she’s a hopeless romantic
WANT SOMEONE : Sutton, for the rest of her life, yes
𝙻 𝙰 𝚈 𝙴 𝚁 ♡♡ 6 : HAVE THEY EVER …
BEEN ON STAGE : no
DONE DRUGS : yes
CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN : it’s her current job
𝙻 𝙰 𝚈 𝙴 𝚁 ♡♡ 7 : FAVORITES .
FAVOURITE COLOR : pink
FAVOURITE ANIMAL : flamingos
FAVOURITE BOOK : Circe by Madeline Miller
FAVOURITE GAME: mancala –– the one with the marbles and wooden board
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+ as requested, here’s a template based off google search. i didn’t want to include the logo for copyright reasons (just in case), but you can add an image above if you want. (of an OC, etc.)
+ enter your search in the search bar and move the “|” right after it, like this: “music|”
+ for the results, you have to enter what you typed in the search bar in all of the results, and then bold the rest of the result. example:
music|
music recommendations
music new
music playlists
+ adjust as much as you want to suit your liking.
+ i included the tips in the psd file, just in case you need it again.
a sorta simple, somewhat messy theme that i used to use. i’ve only ever made my own themes to use personally, this is the first time i’ve ever posted, so there may be mistakes! as usual my themes are suited for rpers (since that’s all i’ve used them for), but suitable for personal as well!
𝗱𝗲𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘀 :
contained
slide down links
header & footer user details
140x140 sidebar img
customizable !
𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝘁𝘀 :
original basecode by octomoosey
hosted font by valcntines
preview / 𝗰𝗼𝗱𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 on pastebin ; customization questions are welcome but please no ims or dms, askbox only! hopefully it’ll be of use to someone! like and/or reblog if you found this helpful, thanks! ♥
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 , an icon base by sapphorpc ! this icon base is in the shape of a heart with a connected outline , and an additional text feature in the font constantia. the psd is not included but can be found here. this base was heavily inspired by the uk brand of sweets , love hearts ! free to use as an icon base , dash icon , etc. free for use, just like & reblog if using.
the unsteadiness in josette seemed to drive her forward in this instance. she didn’t feel right and couldn’t explain it. perhaps it was only down to too much alcohol and people in masks or perhaps she had entertained the idea that her relationship was a lost cause and she had spent so much time trying to salvage something that never should have been in the first place. she was now forty one and the topic of children hadn’t come up, just a comment that he made that she’d be a terrible mother, that she wasn’t capable and it was right. she had made the right decision but still hadn’t said anything to matthew about it - it had been nearly sixteen years since the event that had changed her for forever but she hadn’t spoken about it since she had written herself out of motherhood. at some point, the woman had started to cry by herself and again, she couldn’t quite explain why. it was easy to blend in well in the scene before her, people weren’t about to pay much attention to her if she cried here - at matthew’s would be a very different story. conversations around feelings didn’t happen, only when they were having sex was it acceptable as it was enough to cloud her judgement. looking back at the figure that called out to her, the older woman simply shrugged. “i’m not really sure.” matthew had always said that she ruined the mood… “it’s fine, i’m fine.”
/ ♡ { she knows that line very well: I’m fine, I’m fine. not 𝙾𝙽𝙴 human being on the planet repeats those two words within the same breath, not unless they 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞. a string of 𝒔𝒚𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒚 tugs at heart strings as she watches a nonchalant shrug – unbelievable, 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒎, lacking any assurance she’d ever deign to ask for. –– folds her arms over her chest –– takes a moment to reconsider her words, then flatly the blunt coldness of her voice contests, ❝ Sounds like bullshit if you ask me.❞ a pout – light pink puckered lips, dry –– 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 pairs with arms that slide and fold over her chest. she takes her seat next to the other on a carnival bench littered with stickiness and questionable stains– the spinning high brings her down as she feels that she’s finally met someone worth meeting in the city. ❝ Don’t mind me, I’ll just sit here–– ❞ she tests, obviously curious at the other’s predicament. ❝ If you just so happen to tell the truth, just know that someone here is listening–– ❞ takes a deep breath –– 𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒆, 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞. the pretty lights 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒊𝒎, the carnival grows 𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓, and the wind on her face no longer feels cool. it feels COLD – a shiver ripples through her body. palms rub upon her shoulders to embrace a tiny warmth. ❝ Without judgement– ❞ she thinks it’s important to note. ❝ Sometimes that’s all you really need –– someone to listen. ❞ she was projecting, of course. projecting hard, and deeply apologetic in the smile she passes over to the other. ❝ We don’t even have to exchange names yet, if you don’t want to. ❞
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Sutton would be lying if he said he hadn’t scrolled through her pictures late at night. An admirer from afar, a friend, but because of his business Sutton stayed off most social medial. Except a burner account on a burner phone and that was to gather information…usually. Except when he’d watch her content. He wondered if she knew it was him lurking behind that mystery account. She had so many followers, admirers, voyeuristic vultures and here he was his lips on hers. Then she broke his heart lingering there he could still taste her. Was it brown sugar from a churro? Funnel cake? Or something else entirely. She wanted to spend mornings with him. It would require secrecy…safety…caution. Now he truly understood dumb in love. A soft groan falls from his lips as the way her fingertips tangles in his tuft of hair at the base of her neck. Had she tugged any harder a different reaction may have developed there over the darkened Seine. Breakfast…he wondered the last time he’d had breakfast at his own place usually he sat over the table with a coffee and discussed matters. Sutton knew how and when and where to be seen but he could also disappear. That’s what made him so valuable. That was how he’d ended up in this predicament. He wouldn’t lie to her, he wasn’t all men. There would be no story of fairy tales and happy endings. It wouldn’t be easy. The course of love never did run smooth. Swaying with her wondering if the rocking would help put her crashing mind at ease. A boat in the storm asking her upon it with him. His gaze shifts upwards. He hadn’t checked his phone. Save for that one…single…text. The one they all shared. Yet it seemingly passed over his burner. That was a good sign. She was a puzzle piece that didn’t fit in his reality. Both of them knew it - she was candid. He owed her the same, “I don’t know.” Sutton finally offered, it was the truth. Finally looking back at the woman he longed to cook him hashbrowns, bacon, and eggs…pancakes sometimes if they were feeling extra sweet. The flourishing smell of coffee wafting as he woke up. In a normal life, with a normal job it would be possible. He’d been a fraud analyst once it was boring but people were right…follow the money. He’d followed it into a trap. Letting his hand drop to find hers he brings her manicured fingertips to his lips kissing each fingertip pad as he thought. “We…be safe…we don’t pressure each other…we stay honest..” and for the first time to the first person he divulges one of his secrets, “I have a safe house…” His gaze met hers. “Near the Remi apartments…an old woman named Beatrice lives above…she can’t see or hear so well,” he nuzzled his head in her neck keeping their fingers laced after gifting each one with a kiss. “I can’t sit and what if,” his lips found her neck, the spot he’d been coveting since he first saw her. “I want to try….Honey…”
/ ♡ { sutton appears to have a 𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 circling over his head with a 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒘 and harley stares at it so lovingly while curling locks in her fingertips and swaying in their silent dance. ❝ Mm. ❞ -- she hums -- ❝ You're going to be bad for business, I can tell. ❞ despite the twinkling ripples in the water and the calming cool air, the beauty of the rushing Seine river is nothing compared to the weight of his words. his sentences are her favorite gift and they could 𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙺 her to the bottom of the riverbed if she wasn’t careful. bridges constructed by stones from the Bastille, couldn’t make her feel any safer and if they were to crumble before them, 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 she swears the eiffel tower could grow 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 with him solidified by her side, hand in hand, 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔, wound tightly together in more than just silk sheets. 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆, when Sutton Beckett fortifies and underpins these saccharine and honeyed whims with her. these plans and plots and vows 𝒘𝒓𝒂𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 so tightly, creating comfort, melding with lust, and warming her from the uglier parts of the world that have hardened her, frozen stiff to the bone. she repeats his words back to him with a punctual nod, ❝ Honest… ❞ it flows from her tongue, with a slight tremor. it’s a difficult promise coming from her, especially since she doesn’t uphold promises in any sort of capacity, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬. –– hopefully her own abrasive bluntness wouldn't ruin them, but with honesty, she could instead unravel those threads that keep her so tightly wound. in the crumbling of those walls, she must believe she can still have autonomy, purpose, and a partner to sail into sunset with her when life decides it’s finished with them –– ❝ I can be honest ❞ another nod, slower than the one before, 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍, and given with her own solemnity. meeting his eyes, she finds she’s still out of breath – tiny exhales leave traces on his lips – wanting more connection, and soft kisses to further tease. she remains attentive to secrets, swearing with a set of strong brows to keep them. 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞. a smile embarks on what feels like an invitation to not only a home, but more of his life –– the apples of her cheeks rise in a smile, ❝ Will you take me there? I promise lady Beatrice won’t mind me. I’ll be very careful -– ❞ starlit hazel eyes plead in a dewy nature. he had her at 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚. ❝ We can try, ❞ she affirms. ❝ And when things work out far too quickly than we imagined, you can tell me I told you so, 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚. ❞ –– purses her lips momentarily. she's in deep thought; images of her lounging around in his button down dress shirts and silk ties –– noting how the other half lives, while continuing her own debaucherous lifestyle –– asking him to photograph her bare to share with her followers when in reality those photographs never leave their boudoir –– 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔–– melts her troubles away. it makes her feel as if she doesn’t have to look for home anymore. no, she realizes that in his arms she feels at home –– 𝒂 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 ; better than a gift of shiny new pearls–– she hadn’t felt in awhile. 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 parts of her beg her to 𝑪𝑳𝑨𝑾 –– dig nails into flesh and 𝙲𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 to that pure bliss. 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨. she’s thinking with her heart and not her head, but her heart speaks to the wanton desire –– the green flags instead of those vibrant red ones she attracts. the heart that beats so wildly for him tells her trust him, trust him, 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎. ❝ I have a special blueberry pancake recipe at my disposal ❞ – at the ready - 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎 with a bacon smiley face and two over easy eyes to complete that full good morning ritual. ❝ And I can make a latte to die for. ❞
most of the mask shops she bumbled and dawdled were in the 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒆. venetian masks hand crafted, and 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒙𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 were beautiful entities to behold. the well known ones –– the innamorata, the casanova, the mad king, the madalena –– were among her favorites, even the leather ones in the shape of wolf snouts or cat ears. she tiptoes through the aisles of the shop, attempting to not bring attention to herself, playing in the mirrors and holding masks to her face. she is deciding on one for 𝒂𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒔 to 𝙱𝙾𝙾𝚂𝚃 her social media presence. it was an endearing idea, but in reality, she’s meeting an new friend. fallon was the connect that she was given, 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲, it was much more assessable to 𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 within her new area. she looks around for the descriptor sent via ims and text messages looking for something out of the ordinary. most dealers, in her experience, knew when to lay low and went to show themselves. she finally speaks wearing a 𝑮𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝑫𝒖𝒍𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒂 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒔, ❝ Are you who I think you are? ❞ a smile quirks behind gilded mask frame and a glittery smile. ❝ I’m meeting someone important here… it’s top secret of course. ❞