#Best Laptops For App Development

[ashie-on-starboard]

OOOOOO I LOVE THE ANIMATION!!!

“Oh, its not tonight. Where you hold me tight”🪶

Can anyone recommend any free animation software? I can only do so much in Procreate :,)

[bloodstainedsapphic]

modern!ellie dating app au. for a little monthly au challenge i've tasked myself with. a most awkward first date. fluff. 2.1k words.

you matched with ellie! your eyes widen at the pop-up on your screen. could that be real? some sick, twisted glitch on the app’s end? ellie is—by no exaggeration—the cutest person you've seen on this godforsaken app since you downloaded it. sure, that’s not exactly a bragging right, but it’s true. she stands out like a diamond in a sea of grit and mediocre matchmaking.

so what do you do? of course, you don’t send a message. it’s not like there’s other options, that’s not the lesbian way.

the rest of the day wanes, and your mind drifts to other matters. only occasionally do your thoughts flicker back to ellie’s profile, just sitting there in waiting—her silly question responses, the obligatory guitar photo, how her sage-green eyes must appear even brighter, prettier in person. oh, that’s no good. you need to stifle your expectations. calm down, you remind yourself. it’s just an app. just a pretty girl on an app. only later, when you slither into bed clad in your coziest socks under dimmed lights, you’re struck with the unforeseen.  your phone buzzes, and damn near flies out of your hand when you see the culprit notification. Ellie: Hey :)

oh god oh god oh god. it’s 11 pm. too early for a booty call. or is it? hell, would you even say no to one? not with her, hell no. your fingers tremble as you mull over the best response to send back—something to capture the attention of this hot girl who defied all odds and sent the first message. You: Hi :) great. just perfect. now you look like an idiot. you huff to yourself, running a clammy palm over your face, immediately swiping to another app in a desperate bid to forget that interaction exists. maybe 5 minutes pass. Ellie: What’s up tonight? Ellie: Sorry if that’s dry, I’m new to this dating app thing you smile ear-to-ear at the follow-up. it humanizes her—this gorgeous person who’s looking at the same screen as you, right this second. she’s real, and seems to care just as you do about saying the right thing. you don’t want to muck this up, already putting too much weight into this handful of words. You: Not much, just reading before bed. You? You: And that’s okay, you’re doing fine :) maybe 30 seconds pass this time. Ellie: Oh good Ellie: And just scrolling on my phone. I swear I’m usually more exciting lol Ellie: What are u reading? You: it’s this weird sci-fi fantasy thing. like space politics and robot humanoid thingies lol You: not sure if that makes sense Ellie: No it does! That sounds sick actually

Ellie: I love sci-fi, give me weird and spacey anyday you grin, already kicking your feet a little under the blanket. she gets it. she sees you. You: real!! so you do read it too? or are you trying to impress me? lol You: either is fine you tack on the quip at the end, worried you sounded hard-to-get. you don’t want to seem uninterested at all. you pull the blanket up over your mouth, as if shrouding yourself from the anticipation. Ellie: No I do Ellie: But i’d say i’m also trying to impress you a little. Is that a crime 🤨 now you’re really giggling, your embarrassingly fluttery fingers trying to type faster than your racing thoughts can keep up.

You: not at all. it’s working 🤭 Ellie: Good :) wanna get coffee sometime? We can exchange weird spacey sci-fi books You: I’d like that :) —---------------------- saturday at 1. saturday at 1 at northrise cafe.

the plan becomes etched into your brain. you’re on edge, unsure how to approach this new development. coffee is casual, right? you’re caught wondering if your giddiness suggests that you’re incapable of being casual about anything at all. let alone this cutie in your messages.

you’re on your laptop, browsing, trying to check off the last few tasks of the day when a new ping zaps through your synapses. instinctively, you reach for your phone. 

@/els.williams liked your photo.

on instagram? you hadn’t even exchanged instagrams yet. what a little sleuth ellie is.

you don’t say anything—just pleased at her curiosity. you toss a like back, letting ellie know she hadn’t been slick.

you rake your profile, for a brief panic over the viewability of your posts. but you’re relieved when ellie plays it off, naturally, by spamming a few more of your posts in retaliation, leaning into the bit. she must not hate it.

you follow suit, liking her few posts in return. they’re pretty vague, just a few photo dumps of someone trying not to look too online. almost none of her face; only piquing your curiosity more. this starts a little back-and-forth rhythm building between you.

maybe-just maybe-she is just as eager as you.

—------------

you stare at the locked doors of northrise cafe at 12:51 p.m on what’s turned out to be a balmy saturday afternoon.

closed at 12? what the fuck? that place’ll be out of business by summer with hours like that.

your fingers scramble across the screen, firing off a message before you both end up awkwardly standing here, side by side, locked out and confused like morons who didn’t triple check the business hours. You: um change of plan You: the cafe is closed. wtf no answer. your foot taps the pavement and you look around. why isn’t she answering? your eyes stay glued to the screen. hoping, waiting, praying that the message bubbles appear. all hope seems lost at 12:57 pm. “uh. hi?” your internal panic is interrupted, looking behind you. you weren’t ready for this up close—she’s gorgeous. lips pinkened, cheeks rosey but still full of freckles, and yep, green of her eyes brighter in person. her hair, pulled back in a loose bun with some strands lining her face, sheens in the light, more reddish than brown now. she was wearing an black leather jacket, old, worn, fitting loosely on her. the looseness of the jacket complemented her skinny jeans. she did casual so well. and the way she smiled—something seraphic, inviting, in spite of the awkward situation that had arose.

you try not to trip over your own tongue, stumble over your words. “hello! hi. the cafe is closed. i tried to text you. umm…” you glance between her and the barrier that uprooted your plan. ellie steps closer, scanning the storefront, assessing the situation. her brow lifts slightly in disbelief before she presses her tongue to her bottom lip, thinking.

“i know it’s not ideal… but my place is just two blocks over,” she says, trying to stay lighthearted but careful, considerate. “....i promise i’m not a murderer.”

-------

ellie’s place is... characterized by your average early-20s space, barren in some corners, likely missing a few key essentials, but elevated by a more eccentric, nerdy memorabilia collection. it’s a cozy clutter.

not that you’re focused on that. you’re preoccupied with the fact that you’re in this one-of-a-kind cutie’s space after having only just met face-to-face. is this an absolute nightmare for the safety-conscious? mayhaps. but you trust her word about not being a murderer, willingly entering the potential lion’s den, convinced by a single glance into those soft, round, forest-colored eyes. you’ve settled on her patched-together loveseat, waiting for her return. it feels like every muscle in your body is dedicated to trying to seem casual. do you have any clue if it’s working? definitely not. “ta daa…” ellie rounds the armrest, carrying a plate teeming with whatever cheese, crackers, and olives she could scrounge together from her kitchenette. “it’s no cafe... but, uh, i think i did alright..”

she places a hard seltzer in your hand, catching you slightly off-guard. a questioning look flickers across her face as your fingers wrap around the can—an unspoken ask if you’re okay with this absolutely bastardized smorgasbord of treats.

it’s so funny, you can’t help but titter, peeling open the tab and tasting that first sip. ellie’s shoulders slump in relief as she situates the entree on the coffee table, her free hand reaching for the remote.

“i guess..there’s something special about sharing a charcuterie board and seltzer on the first meeting with a not-murderer,” you say, reaching out to clang your cans together.

she snorts at that, the sound short and unexpected, like she hadn’t meant to laugh but couldn’t stop it. she gently knocks her can against yours, the corner of her mouth twitching up. her knees subconsciously mirror the gesture, brushing against yours on the semi-cramped seat.

there’s a comfortable sliver of silence. maybe you’re both actively deciding which topic is best to redirect the afternoon. your eyes drift to her knickknacks—you start examining them more closely, hoping to jog ellie’s memory, silently nudging her to show off a little.

luckily, she catches on. she swallows the last of her cracker and rises, pointing toward the bookshelf brimming with comics. 

”oh, right- i can show you i meant it- the sci-fi nerd, thing..hopefully you find it as cool in person,” she musters up with a sheepish grin, gesturing you over. you follow, a collected smirk on your face to try and reassure her. you did think it was cool, in a dorky way. a dork you’d hope to have the courage to kiss senseless if the opportunity arose for sure. 

ellie traces the spines of her collection, introducing her volumes of comic books in a sort of impromptu show-and-tell. the more receptive you are, the more enthusiastic she gets—an excited aura radiating off her as she spouts off details, trivia, favorite arcs. you’re enamored with her nerding out. it’s endearing, disarming. it proves her humanness in a way that makes you fall further, faster.

the shelf is just the beginning, she shows off her trinkets littered all over, giving you a proper feel for her lived space and by proxy- ellie herself.

ellie suddenly looks taken aback. she scratches the back of her neck, slightly embarrassed, like she realized something was missing.

“it’s a bit..quiet? would you mind if i put on some music?”

eventually, ellie nabs a playlist, deciding it’d be nice. without a speaker, the sound quietly emits from her phone, a blend of alt-rock and dusty classics older than either of you. you sway a little in approval. it’s a small thing, but it sweetens the growing ease between you.

“anyway, don’t let me do all the talking. what are your favorites?” ellie puts the spotlight on you, and you return to the tightly-fit love seat, ellie tucking one leg underneath her and leaning in, freckles as evident as ever- allowing you some room in more ways than one. 

you snack on ellie’s make-do cheese board, conversing about your favorite stories, exchanging fan theories and controversial opinions, playfully debating for the hell of it. there are even a few little couch-dances to whatever’s playing. it’s delightfully awkward, it’s low stakes, and you’re growing more comfortable by the second. 

time slips away during the warm, lively chatter. you’re only aware that it’s getting to be late when the sun melts into a golden glow that peeks through the window shades.

“would you look at the time?” you announce, stretching out from that extended time curled up, invested in this girl. you shoot ellie the universal look, initiating a regretful, hesitant goodbye. seems neither of you really want it to end- but simultaneously fear being the one acting ‘too much’ or overstepping. 

ellie escorts you down to the entrance, hands shoved into her pockets of her skinny jeans, steps dragging at a snails pace.

you hover. glance at her mouth under the dim, flickering entryway light. she does the same—shoulders curled forward, eyes darting. both of you standing there, waiting for the other to act brave just as ellie had with that first dm—the one that led you here. ellie even rocks forward on the balls of her feet, eyes flitting to your lips and down to your shoes, almost having the nerve to go for it. 

but, alas, the loserishness wins over.

you lift a small wave, which ellie volleys back to you. finally parting ways, ellie stepping backwards, retreating into her place. a space you already sorely missed, despite only having visited one time. but you’re already, eagerly hoping it’s not the only time you grace the inside of it.

you‘ve hardly turned the street corner when your phone dings.

Ellie: I had a good time. Hope u did too :) Lowkey wish I had kissed you you stop walking, grinning at the screen like a dumbass and biting back a tiny, smitten squeal. 

You: next time <3 

[jarofstyles]

Cabernet

This can be read as a standalone I think, but! Here is a second part of Merlot! It's spicy and sweet so I hope you guys like it. Unsure if there will be any more parts (I’m open if you guys have more ideas!) but I do love a good dilfrry.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 200+ exclusive writings!

WC- 4.1k

Warnings- smut, age gap relationship, anal (for those who asked ur welcome!), unprotected sex, cumplay, Dom/sub elements

-------

Harry was by far the best man she had ever dated. 

Their age gap was evident at times, but not in a bad way. It was rather cute when he had been confused about videos she sent or his own excitement to show her the movies or books he was referencing. The added element of their dynamic was learning from one another. Harry had been teaching her about publishing and helping her flesh out the first draft of her book while she sat in his office some days, helping him out in return by getting him coffee or lunch or an occasional shoulder massage when he got particularly stressed. An unofficial assistant of sorts. 

“I feel like if I have to write the word ‘said’ one more time, my brain is going to explode.” She grumbled, pushing her laptop across the couch and leaning back on it. The leather seat in his office was by far the most comfortable one she had sat on and he happily invited her to come into the office to see him as often as she wanted. It was both practical and selfish on both ends.It was easier to work in a space like this and with the understanding that Harry really did have work he was doing, she focused on her own stuff. A quiet pair of people working in each other’s company. 

Add in the fact that he was the boss man, it made it much easier for her to come and go as she pleased. 

“Mm, sometimes authors get stuck with words in their novels. They’ll have phrases they repeat a few too many times, usually gets called out in editing and fixed. It’s not a bad thing. But with words that are action words like that, there are options. Y’know, depending on the scene and tone. Murmured, muttered, peeped, whispered, whined, moaned, huffed, grumbled. Those sorts of words.” He tapped his pen against the desk as he lifted his eyes to her. 

It didn’t get old. Seeing her pretty face sitting in his office looking the way she did, much more comfortable than the night they’d first met, but still appropriate for an office setting.

Sometimes he did let his mind wander into the roleplay aspect, wondering if she had been his real assistant if he would have made a move. If Y/N was the Y/N he knew now? Probably. Scandalous. 

Today she wore a pair of black flowy pants and a matching turtleneck, but on top she had a chunky knit cardigan that was utterly adorable. It had yellow moons and stars, a deep purple color with sleeves she had to push up so they didn’t hide her hands. His girl leaned into the office aesthetic when she came in so she didn’t stick out too much but with him or when they were at his place or out together, he loved seeing her dressed in her normal clothing. She looked soft, whimsical almost. Like a little fairy. 

“Hm. Good point. I need to write down all the synonyms in my notes app and defer to that because if I’m getting tired of writing it, I know whoever ends up reading it will get tired of seeing it too.” Her lips puffed to blow a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun, brows furrowed as she failed and made her hand ready up to tuck it behind her ear instead. 

Again, cute.

“Not necessarily.” He replied, leaning back in his chair. “We’re our own harshest critics. I doubt they’re paying that much attention to that. The majority of people will be paying attention to world building, character development, plot, sex scenes, all that fun stuff. The exact wording isn’t always the most important thing. But it shows that you care about quality.” He shot her a grin. “So you will be successful.”

“Mmm… and not because I’m fucking the publishing head?” She grinned as she stood up, stretching her arms out. 

“Well. That helps.” He wouldn’t deny it. She had a leg up, but he wouldn’t publish just anything. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t publish shit work. It isn’t worth the reputation of my company. Your writing is genuinely good, my sweet.” He knew the drill by now. Her heeled boots were kicked off by the couch and she made her way over to him, the tiredness starting to hit her as she happily perched herself on his lap. 

“Good to know.” She snorted before pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek. The facial hair had grown but he was shaping it currently. She promised she’d be okay with whatever he did to it but didn’t want anything to happen to the mustache. That wasn’t allowed to go. “What are you working on? Anything fun?” 

“No, nothing incredibly interesting I’m afraid.” His hand squeezed her hip underneath the cardigan. “I was working on some contracts earlier but every so often I pick up some submissions and read through them myself. This one is very bland, unfortunately. There’s potential, absolutely. Their writing style is lovely, but the plot falls flat and the characters are one dimensional. S’like they chose a specific stereotype and did nothing to differentiate them.” It was unfortunate.” It was a shame he came across all too often.

“It’s obvious this person is trying but they’ve never observed or met someone with these traits. I don’t think you absolutely have to follow the rule ‘write what you know’, but I think a lot of the best works come from drawing from our own experiences. Romance, for them, doesn’t seem to be a passion. They’d do better with mystery with their writing style as it is, but they have to improve on other aspects first.” 

“Is it hard for you to see stuff like that?” She asked curiously, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I can tell you’re a little disappointed with it, so I have to wonder if it happens a lot.”

“It does. And it is hard when you see someone with potential not living up to it but I have faith that if we send them some constructive criticism notes that maybe they won’t see it as an attack but as a place of genuine care. I’m going to have someone meet with them I think, give them my notes and have them explain it in nicer terms than the plain ones I used. Maybe they can work on it again and add more and we’d have a best seller.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I can see they care about it in the way they put details in, but it needs more.”

There was something incredibly attractive about listening to him talk about it. It was always attractive to see someone care and talk about their passions; but Harry was on another level. She could see it on his face that he was disappointed and knew the person could do better. While it made it all the more nerve wracking for her own novel, she had him working with her along the way.

He never told her where to go with her story in terms of ideas, but how to improve the mechanics. Reading over bits and telling her to take away a certain detail and add more in other places, or giving suggestions about how things could flow smoother. He’d listened to her storyboard, after showing her the author equivalent of it, and gave his honest feedback from a publisher's point of view and then from a boyfriend’s point of view.

Sometimes it was more obvious that he was the one with miles more life experience in these instances but she couldn’t be upset about it when it only aided in strengthening their relationship. 

“I see.” She looked at the manuscript on the desk with the red pen of doom. “Oof. The red pen is out… and you’ve used it a lot.” 

“Well, there are errors.” He chuffed, kissing her cheek in return. “Did you get enough done?” The word count goal had been 3,000 for today, but he didn’t make it for her. It was all on her. He simply helped keep her accountable.

“I did more. I think… 4.5?” She tilted her head trying to remember. “Now my head feels like soup.” It did feel like mush right now. That was why the laptop was closed and abandoned and she was finding comfort in the man. It was like a reward. 

“That’s ace, my dove. Amazing.” He praised. The pride he felt for her was earned fair and square. She had been applying herself more now than ever. Since their first night together they hadn’t really separated, seeing each other at least a few times a week. Her work ethic was there as she had zeroed in on what she wanted. “Why don’t we finish this up and go back to mine, mm?” 

Harry had been holding off all week. He’d gone a bit rough one night and even though she said she was fine, he wanted to give her body time to relax. As much as he loved sex, he had wanted her body to enjoy it more than anything else. Not be overly swollen and sore the next day. 

Today was going to be the day to break that. A full week of nothing but heated kisses, and she was as needy as needy could get. He felt her perk up at the mention, sitting up straighter in his lap. 

“Please! Let’s go. We can get food on the way home but I think we have some pressing matters to attend to.” She sniffed, standing from him and offering a hand to help him up. “Chop chop. Get a move on, mister.”

——-

Two rounds in and he knew she could take it. Her poor cunt was a mess and he knew that as pretty as it was all drippy and swollen, she had been aching for him to get a try into her other hole. They’d had a proper discussion about it, and he had effectively been edging her the entire night. Fair? No, but she knew how he rolled. The promised pleasure first, experiments after. Just in case she wanted to stop, she got something out of the night. 

She’d been warming his cock for a bit as he held her in his arms, cooing soft praises about how good of a girl she was, how brave she had been to ask for something new tonight when he felt her get impatient. She didn’t need to say it. He knew her well enough now to understand what she wanted. Pulling his cock out and rubbing the tip against her asshole, pressing against it and spreading the sticky cum over the rim.  “Want me t’fuck this tight little ass too?  Fill you from both ends."

“Wanna try.” She nodded, panting as her cunt contracted and his cum dribbled out of her pussy. “You’re so big I… I dunno if I can take it. Go slow.” Y/N knew she was slightly cock drunk but she also trusted him. He’d made her feel good already, took his time with everything else why wouldn’t she want to test this with him?

“Okay, my sweet. Just relax.” Harry wasn’t nervous, but he was cautious. His girl was precious cargo, and he wanted to make sure it felt as good as it could. He’d done the work of stretching her with his fingers, but it was going to be a challenge to get him in there regardless. He slowly pushed his thick head past the tight rim of her back hole. Watching her face intently, his own contorted with pleasure. "You're doing so good, doll," he encouraged softly. "Just relax and let me in. You can take it."

The pressure was intense, and she hissed out a breath as he slowly pushed more and more of himself into her. His thick head stretched her wide, and he paused, letting her adjust to the new sensation. "Breathe." The reminder was whispered as he realized she was holding her breath, his hand carding through her hair tenderly.

"That's it, baby. You're taking it so well. Always do so good f’me." He praised, his voice low and soothing. He slowly pushed more of himself into her, inch by inch, his thick prick spreading her wide. She could feel every vein, every ridge, as he slowly filled her up.

As he slid deeper, Harry could feel the intense pressure and stretch around his girth. Her tight little hole was gripped tightly around his shaft, the muscles fluttering and contracting as he pushed his way inside. She felt like she was being split in two, her body struggling to accommodate his bigger size- but she was. Slowly but surely, he sunk into her fully.

She had done it. 

“Fuck.” She sobbed out, clinging to him as he got down to the base. Never in her life had she felt so full that way, so stretched. Only Harry could make her feel this way. It wasn’t just the physical feeling, but the emotional one too. She trusted him more than she trusted anyone else. His guidance was priceless.

"You're doing so good, You’ve got it all in. Jus’ gotta let it adjust." he soothed, his voice strained as he fought to keep control. Giving her a moment to adjust, his hands stroking her hair and her cheeks, his thumb brushing away her tears. "You feel so hot around me, doll. So tight. Knew y’would be."

“I wanna be… I want you to feel good.” She whispered, looking at him with wet eyes. “It’s just so big. I’m tryin’ to take it.” It surely wasn't a beginner cock but she wasn’t known for taking the easy way.

"You're doing so well, baby," he reassured her, his hands never leaving her. He slowly pulled out halfway before sinking in again, a little faster this time. "That's it... take me all the way in."

It was the fourth time he did it that she felt the pleasure. Both from the action and the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against her swollen clit, making her gasp. Her eyes fell shut as she leaned her head back, slowly relaxing into the bed.

He watched her face contorted in pleasure, his heart swelling with pride. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough. As she opened her eyes, he began to pick up the pace, his hips pressing against hers. "M’so proud of you. Look at you, taking every bit of me.”

Y/N sent him a blissed out smile as her hand slipped between them, rubbing her own clit slowly as he fucked into her ass. There was nothing rushed about it, nothing frantic, and it felt good just to be. Her muscles relaxed, making it feel even better as his cock filled her hole. Soft moans left her mouth as she curled her other hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down so he was close. “Are they the best holes you’ve had?”

Harry’s face was lax in his own pleasure as he felt her tight ass clench around his cock. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his breath hot against her lips. “They are. So fucking tight, so perfect. Can’t compare them t’anything else.” He kept up his steady rhythm, loving how her body moved with his. “You feel so good. Can never get enough of you.” He whispered, brushing a stray hair out of her face before stroking her puffy lip. They were so pretty. Kissing wasn’t something he’d thought much of before, but he hadn’t kissed Y/N. She had changed everything for him. 

“Better than that silly ex wife?” She prodded, watching with a little smirk as she watched him think it over. Y/N had a feeling she was by the way be was acting,  but she wanted to hear it.

"Way better." he grunted, his hips snapping forward. "Little minx, y’just need to ask that, hm? No need to be jealous. She never gets t’have me again. Only y-you." He stuttered as her hand moved around his neck and she squeezed down hard on him. "Her holes were nothing compared to yours, doll. Nothing."

Y/N giggled as she choked him a little bit, watching his eyes widen before pulling. It was obvious that while he was the big man in charge- she could have fun too. “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll tell you a secret, Harry.” Her lips brushed his as she kept the grip on his throat. Her lips were swollen and sensitive, the coarse facial hair brushing it and making her want to moan. “None of the boys my age have ever made me cum. They never fucked my ass. Never fucked me raw. And you did it all.”

"And I'm gonna keep doing it," he rumbled, eyes burning with lust as she kissed him. His hand tightened in her hair, tugging gently and pulling her deeper into the kiss. “You’ve got a man now, no need to think of those boys.You want me t’keep being nice to you? Keep making you cum?”

“If you keep fucking me like this, I do. Want my man to be so, so nice to me.” She gasped as he pushed all the way in, balls rested snug against her ass as he slowly humped into her, the comfort of the fullness making her fingers work harder on her clit. “Gotta- Gotta prove you can keep up with me, old man. That you c-can live up to the hype. I like the bit of silver at your temples but…” Her moan was broken as he pulled out and pushed back in, jostling her. “Gotta prove why older guys are b-better for pretty little things like me.”

"Oh, I'll prove it to you," he growled, picking up pace as he pounded into her tight ass. She had no idea just how badly he’d needed her to walk into his life. Thank god she had. This was everything he had ever wanted. "And right now, you need me to wreck this little hole until you can't walk straight. You need me to show you how a real man handles his woman. I'll give you everything you crave, everything you need. You just have to let go and trust me.” The man had every intention of proving how much better he could be for her than she could ever imagine.

"Fuck, look at this cunt." He muttered, reaching down to spread her dripping pussy apart. "It's absolutely soaked, just dripping down. Love it, hm?” The smugness in his tone would usually make her scowl but there was no denying it. The proof was right there. It was undeniable. “You're so turned on, baby. It's making it easier for me to fuck this tight little ass of yours." The glossy, hard flesh glistened with slick, dripping down onto the bed beneath her. His own cum intermingled with her own, making his movements smoother as he pushed in and out of her, coating her holes with their combined essence.

Her face was a mask of pure ecstasy, her eyes rolled back in her head as she whimpered in pleasure, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. Her asshole clenching and unclenching around his thick cock with each thrust, trying to milk him for all he was worth. Her body was feeling tingly, her legs trembling as he fucking into her ass, the sound of her arousal and his hips hitting her skin filling the room. She was completely lost in the pleasure, her mind clouded by the overwhelming sensation of being thoroughly fucked.

As she reached the peak of her orgasm, he took over and began rubbing her clit with his own thumb, the sensation sending waves of pleasure cascading through her body. She cried out, her pussy gushing as she came harder than she would have imagined being fucked like this. She was so overwhelmed that she could only hold limply onto his arms as he continued to pound into her, his thick cock stretching her hole as it thrust through the waves of her intense orgasm.

His face contorted, vein bulging in his neck as he struggled to hold back. "You feel too good, baby. I can't... I can't hold back any longer." His heavy balls drew up close to his body, ready to unleash another load inside of her. The feeling of her taut muscles milking him, the way she clung to him with every fiber of her being, it was too much. He was sensitive himself, but he wanted to deliver everything she wanted.

"Please, Harry...Please,come inside me... I wanna feel you fill me up. Want it everywhere." She panted, her voice desperate with need. Half of the fun of sex was seeing him lose that control he so easily held in all other scenarios. She wanted to make him feel just as good as he made her feel. He deserved it.

His restraint shattered at her words.  "Fuck, you're gonna get what you asked for."

With a guttural groan, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and let go, his hot load pulsing into her hole in thick ropes. She felt each ribbon scalding her , marking her as his. "That's it, take it all... That’s m’girl.” He kept cumming, his cock twitching as he filled her. Ribbon after ribbon filled her up until she was overflowing with his load, almost overwhelmingly so. He finally slowed, his chest heaving, before gently pulling out of her ass, his cock glistening with the evidence of their fuck.

With a sense of possessive pride, he watched as his cum began to leak out of her stretched hole, dripping down her thighs. It was satisfying in the filthiest way. Primal and caveman in every sense of the word, he loved knowing that he had done it. He’d taken every one of her holes and made her his in the dirtiest type of way. He gently spread her cheeks apart, admiring the sight of his mark leaking from her. "Look at that... You're so full of me, S’that what you wanted?”

“Mhm.” She smiled, slightly drunk on the orgasm and the fact that he had pushed her further than anyone else had before. it was a good feeling in her body, the beginnings of soreness and the calming heat of his hands as he caressed her the way he wanted. “Exactly what I wanted. Think M’gonna have to keep you around so we can do that again.”

“I’d hope so.” He laughed tiredly, pushing back down to take her mouth for another kiss. “I’m far from finished with you, sweet little thing. But I think I’ve ravaged your body enough. Think you need a bath and some tea, get you ready to sleep.” 

Aftercare wasn’t something she’d experienced in any other relationship either, but she realized now it was probably a Harry exclusive thing. He was phenomenal at it. A lot of things, honestly. He experimented with her responsibly, took care of her after every round of sex, checked in on her, made sure she was eating proper meals, and helped her with her career. She’d lucked out with him. Whatever his ex wife was thinking, she had no clue- but she wasn’t about to waste a single bit of him.

“Do you have chamomile?” She asked softly, pecking his lips in return. 

“What do you take me for? Course I’ve got it.” He scoffed, pinching her chin. “But if I didn’t, I’d find some for you. Know it’s your favorite. Added it to the grocery list, along with your cereal, your rancid battery acid energy drinks, and the sweet and salty popcorn.” 

“It’s good battery acid, I’ll have you know.” She giggled, carding her fingers through his hair. He did have a bit of gray going on the temples but it was sexy. Just hearing how much he cared and put effort into the tiny things made her giddy. 

“Yeah, yeah. We can talk about your poison in the morning. It’s time to get clean and go t’sleep. Tomorrow may be the day you write five thousand words. You never know.”

[psi-hate]

alright, this really, really sucks but i have an unfortunate update that occurred regarding my recent living situation.

not to get into too much detail for the sake of my friend's privacy, but she and her fiance offered to take me in after i was suddenly on the verge of homelessness this february. i accepted their offer and moved in thanks to everyone's support, and for the last few months, i felt comfortable and capable in getting myself together for the first time in years.

however, despite what i assumed were all positive developments, things started getting a lot more complicated. i become exposed to the treatment and stress my friend has been suffering from her fiance over many years, from being spied on via tracking apps, in-house cameras, a ridiculous jealousy complex and all sorts of other personal issues.

her friends and i have been supporting her over the years, but i didn't realize how bad it was until i started to be subjected to it as well.

my friend decided to break up with her fiance last week, finally standing up for herself but still wanting to remain friends and live as normally as they could, they still had the house and their cats and such. her now ex-fiance hasn't taken kindly to this and has been pretty passively hostile towards us, and has started to take it out on me.

she started stalking my tumblr to find things to get mad at, and checking the cameras when i leave my room. i've not felt comfortable to leave my room in well over a week other than to get some food or use the bathroom in the middle of the night, the tension has been a nightmare.

my friend and i decided we needed to move out, especially me since i'm technically not a tenant and we suspect she's going to call the police on me to get me out of here. my friend will be going to her parents at a later point, but i unfortunately need to leave within a couple weeks as i've already been "indirectly" threatened.

this is sort of a nightmare, and i feel so horrible things turned out this way for my friend. i tried my best, but this feels out of my control. trying to keep the peace has only made things worse, and we think it's best for me to book it before i get blind-sighted.

i suspect if her ex-fiance sees this, she'll retaliate, but at this point i've already made my peace with that.

unfortunately, i won't be able to bring much of my stuff with me, i only have enough money for a ticket to move in with another close friend as an emergency.

i don't have enough to buy any checked bags for most my belongings, especially my desktop pc, so once i move i'm very likely going to not be able to do my art or anything until i can afford a laptop eventually. i'm really sorry to those waiting on any commissions, i'll try my best to get them done before i move. i feel so horrible about this.

if anyone is able to help, i'd really appreciate it. even just a reblog is more than i can really ask. i hesitate to make this request because i feel like i just asked for it only for it to all be wasted once this exploded in my face. but i've been encouraged to reach out, and i apologize if this is too much. my ko-fi:

thank you so much for supporting me so far. i don't want to disappoint anyone anymore. i am so scared but i still want to keep trying.

[tashtush]

We Ask for Your Discretion (Chapter 1)

18+ Homelander/queer female reader, Madelyn/reader, Homelander/Madelyn. Pre-s1. Stalking, noncon, dubcon, mommy kink, praise kink, rough sex, voyeurism, threesome, corporate nonsense, manipulation, homophobia, trauma, sexual coercion, cunnilungus, vaginal sex (smut in future chapters)

AO3 | gif

Homelander has a new fixation. Madelyn does damage control.

Chapter 2

“I don’t think ‘The Deep’s Liquid Dreams’ is going to fly as a concept.”

You had been helping develop Vought’s new meditation and sleep app, VoughtMind, its conception a prompt response to the Flight 37 tragedy. After facilitating several distraught focus groups, it was determined that the answer to the nation’s unrest would be guided meditations performed by a roster of lesser-known supes. From calming tracks such as Moonshadow’s Nervous System Reset to Being Seen with Invisi-Lass, there would be a soothing balm for your existential dread.

“What do you mean?” Lisa asked with faux exasperation, barely containing her grin. “It would be a guided track, narrated by his truly. It’d be relaxing. We could even play marimba sounds in the background.”

Lisa was your long-time friend and coworker, and you were both on the same team: The “Shut-eye Squad” (a mandated nickname you chose to never utter outside of the office). You were responsible for the development of VoughtMind’s sleep feature.

“I don’t know, I think it’d be better suited for V-Rotic,” you laughed wearily, scribbling down the idea in your notebook. On some exceptionally dull, meeting-heavy days, you wished you could work for that team. While some might shy away from the task of developing super sex toys and erotic audio stories, you weren’t one of them.

You had been working as a UX designer for Vought for a year, honored by the opportunity to be a small cog in the massive, omnipresent, and culturally influential institution. You storyboarded features, sketched countless wireframes, and did your best to ensure seamless user interaction.

And to optimize all the ways a user could upgrade to VoughtLife Plus, of course.

While you had experience working in tech, nothing about your old offices compared to the grandeur that was Vought Tower. It was a force of nature, casting its shadow over the city like an unyielding, steel sentinel. Every day, you felt a small swell of pride and trepidation when you approached its entrance, gripping your laptop bag in an attempt to ground yourself.

What excited you most, however, was the fact that it was home to the Seven. Just knowing that they all slept on the 99th floor gave you a little thrill every time it crossed your mind. But despite your technical proximity, they might as well have been living on a different planet.

You knew that there were plenty of private corridors that separated them from the Vought commonfolk. While they dodged being pestered for selfies, you simply contented yourself with the knowledge that you were employed by the company that helped them save lives—or, if you were being honest with yourself, the company that released those stupid movies you loved to hate.

It was seven in the evening when you and Lisa finally finished preparing for a particularly stressful presentation. You tried to avoid working late at all costs, but you underestimated how challenging it would be to market a Deep-themed mental health experience. Lisa stood and stretched, her daily signal that she was done for the day, until her gaze landed on her desk.

“Shit,” she muttered, lifting her mug to grab the coffee-stained folder beneath it.

“What’s that? Someone’s birthday card you forgot to sign?” you asked, craning your neck curiously.

“No, I was supposed to deliver these documents to floor 79 today,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. She stayed in that position for a moment too long, then turned her attention back towards you.

“Could you do me a huge favor?” she asked, pressing the folder between her hands in a plea. “Could you run up and drop this off at the front desk? I’m already late for a dinner reservation and I won’t be here to do it tomorrow morning.”

“79? I’d be happy to, but I don’t have access,” you said. Lower-level employees were generally barred from visiting higher floors, but some, like Lisa, had special privileges when needing to relay confidential information.

“Here, take my key card,” she said, pulling it from her pocket. “You’ll have access now.”

“Oh, sure then,” you replied, plucking the card from her hand. You examined it, noticing that it looked nearly identical to yours, save for the smooth finish and gold-embossed “V”. Crisp. Corporate.

“Thanks, you’re the best,” she said with a winning smile, hoisting her backpack over her shoulders.

She made her exit, and you were left alone in the dark office, folder and key card in hand. You started toward the elevators in the lobby, listening to the low, steady hum of idle printers. It was kind of eerie, but in an oddly soothing way. Like standing on a beach at night, when it was usually so bright and bustling with activity.

When you arrived at the elevator doors, curiosity bubbled up inside you. How different would the higher floors be? You heard a myriad of rumors floating around the water cooler, and you realized that this could be your chance to corroborate them. Were there spa facilities amidst the large conference rooms, offering around-the-clock massages and steam room sessions? Would you be able to find one of the alleged corporate cocktail bars and make yourself a company-funded cosmo? You once even heard that they got John Legend to perform in a break room for some VP’s birthday, while the biggest surprise you ever got was a box of assorted bagels. But again, you weren’t complaining. You loved bagels.

The elevator doors opened and you stepped in, surveying the sleek grid of blue, glowing buttons. You’d never been this high up before. You’d never had a reason to be, and it almost felt like you were committing a crime when you held the card against the adjacent scanner. It only just occurred to you that there was definitely a camera pointed at you—that you could get into real trouble, and anxiety twanged in your chest when you heard the telltale beep of confirmation. You pressed “7” and “9”, doing your best to assuage your fears. It was late. No one would notice you–and if they did, they’d be too exhausted after a long day of meetings and trying to care about anyone but themselves. Security would probably be too preoccupied with trying to keep people out of the tower, rather than deal with one errant employee.

You weren’t about to miss the opportunity to find that spa.

The elevator began to ascend, and it wasn’t long before it came to a smooth halt. The doors opened, and an employee you’d never seen before quietly shuffled in to stand in front of you. She was dressed sharply, had a clearly intentional hairstyle, and was generally just more put-together than you. You stood uneasily, feeling self-conscious in your jeans and what now felt like a much-too-whimsical sweater. Before you could stew in discomfort for too long, however, the elevator stopped just moments later, and she filed out as quickly as she entered. You breathed a small sigh of relief. After a few more seconds of imperceptible ascension, you idly wondered at what floor the slacks ended and the three-piece-suits began. With a bright ding, the doors slid open once again.

You froze. He was wearing a different kind of suit.

“Hiya,” you heard him say, his voice clear, masculine, and practiced. The voice you had heard on-repeat for years, that lived in every household, movie theater, and classroom across the country. It could command a stadium, stop any criminal dead in their tracks, and apparently cause your heart to drum violently against your chest.

It was Homelander.

With his strong jaw, coiffed blonde hair, and startling blue eyes, he was even more handsome in person. That, in combination with his impeccably clean suit and perfect posture, made him emanate an aura of otherworldliness.  

He strode into the elevator, entering “99” into the console with a gloved finger. He then stood casually beside you, behaving as if this wasn’t one of the most surreal moments of your life. He wasn’t especially tall, but he might as well have been 6’5” with the sheer weight of his presence.

Should you say something? You shifted awkwardly in place, fingers gripping the folder like a lifeline. You had to say something, right? You shot him a sidelong glance, daring yourself to break the silence and not squander this once-in-a-lifetime encounter.

“Um, I’ve never pictured you taking an elevator,” you said a little too quickly, a little too quietly. What? You immediately regretted opening your mouth. You figured that this is what people meant when they said they were starstruck.

You saw the corner of his lips quirk up slightly before he turned his head toward you, his strangely unnerving eyes making contact with yours. The elevator suddenly felt very small, and the sensation of his proximity to you amplified considerably. He paused for a moment, then leaned toward you, raising his dark eyebrows in a question.

“Well… how do you usually picture me?” he asked slowly, a tinge of unmistakable amusement in his voice. His eyes flickered downward for just a fraction of a second, so quickly that you might have imagined it. You felt your heart continue to pound as he awaited your answer, painfully aware that your ability to banter was compromised.

“Flying head-first through windows?” you said, shrugging your shoulders sheepishly. “Though, I-I guess that isn’t very economical.” Your voice trailed off into an awkward silence.

He let out a huff of a chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a charming smile. The elevator came to another halt.

A few more executives filed in, and you turned away from him, trying to salvage any of your humility by playing it cool. After the elevator continued, the console’s digital display finally settled on floor 79. Relief flooded you, and you shot him a smile before hastily stepping past the open doors. You only saw his face for about a second, but it was all the time you needed to notice that his grin had fallen, his eyes staring at you as the door slid shut.

You felt like you could breathe again, as if you had suddenly emerged from being underwater for minutes. You wandered to the front desk in a haze, realizing that it would probably benefit you to listen to Mister Marathon’s latest collaboration with VoughtMind: Outrunning Panic.

—

The next day, you couldn’t keep Homelander out of your mind. Was he teasing you? Could he have actually been flirting? You replayed the encounter over and over in your head for approximately… all day, so much so that the presentation you were dreading all week was demoted to an inconvenient afterthought. What felt monumental to you was likely just a mundane second of his (larger-than) life, so you tried your best not to dwell on that possibility.

He was charming. That was his thing. It was one of the qualities that made him so damn lovable whenever you watched him speak heroic to the public. He was often very flirtatious with the female talk show hosts who effortlessly coaxed answers out of him, even the most seasoned of professionals failing to suppress their girlish giggles. You were just another inconsequential pull of his magnetism.

When you arrived in the office that morning, you immediately had to tell someone about it. Anyone. You beelined toward Ami, a copywriter on your team, and quickly recounted the night’s events. She stopped in her tracks, swiveling her desk chair to slowly land in your direction. Her jaw literally dropped.

“That’s crazy that you say that,” she said, “I actually saw him this morning while I was grabbing coffee in the cafe.”

That was strange. A whole year working here, and you hadn’t even heard of him being anywhere near your floor.

“Really? Did you talk to him?” you asked in a hushed voice, not even trying to hide your excitement. Meeting Homelander was a big deal, even for a Vought employee.

“I didn’t. He was giving extreme ‘don’t even try to talk to me’ vibes. He ignored me. Honestly, it was kind of unsettling,” she said, grimacing slightly. “It didn’t surprise me, though. I’m sure people are usually begging for his attention. It looked like he was talking to a manager or something, but I have no idea why,” she shrugged.

“He looks older in person,” she added off-handedly. “Still hot, though.”

“Hmm,” you responded absent-mindedly, fingering the key card that was still nestled in your pocket. You wondered what the odds were that Homelander would meet you in an elevator and then immediately visit your office the next morning. It was almost certainly a coincidence. He was known to dip his boots in all kinds of products, from star-spangled defense weapons to top-brand cereal boxes. You remembered seeing a meditation concept scribbled onto a whiteboard called Sounds of America, complete with a single bullet point that read “eagle sounds”. Maybe getting Homelander to do voice work was the execs’ chosen hook for getting the app off the ground. Everyone was scrambling to release an MVP in response to Flight 37, so getting him to record guided patriotism was guaranteed to draw attention.

You weren’t able to get any more answers from your circle, not even from Lisa, who blew up your texts with a full-on interrogation. You both delved into every minute detail of the encounter, analyzing everything from his body language to the tone of his voice. It was thrillingly juvenile, but you quickly ran out of material to wring from your memory.

Lisa: What did he smell like?

Me: I don’t know. Nothing?

Lisa: boring

Lisa: you know, he could probably smell you

Me: Stop. ✋

It was then that you knew it was time to put the phone down.

You had no other choice but to simply continue your workday, the annoying need to earn money competing with your racing thoughts.

—

The following Friday, you were leaving a conference room after an exhausting, four-hour workshop. Ever since the allegations about the Deep had surfaced, it was mandated that the entire company go through extensive sexual harassment training.

You woefully chewed on a granola bar as you walked down the hall, fueling yourself for another two hours of fighting the urge to fall asleep. You turned a corner, and to your bewilderment, you caught another glimpse of that damn, iconic flag cape. You promptly turned back again, and you had never felt more like a cartoon.

It was him. Again. But this time, he wasn’t alone—he was talking to a woman, and the sounds of their hushed voices carried down the hall. You felt absurd hiding behind the corner, but with your current track record, you didn’t trust yourself to remain calm. You peeked over just slightly, trying to make out who she was; maybe it was the manager that Ami had seen him talking to in the cafe. You squinted, and her features finally came into focus.

Madelyn Stillwell?

Yet another celebrity you thought you’d never meet. Again, why was the Vice President of Supe Management anywhere near you? She was much shorter than you imagined, even with heels, but she still projected refined, intimidating professionalism. They were deep in discussion, and to your horror, you realized that you needed to pass them to get to your next meeting. You took a deep breath to ground yourself, reminding yourself that you were an adult, before emerging from behind the corner. As you walked toward them with as much nonchalance as you could muster, you started to pick up a snippet of their conversation.

“–Listen, just–just don’t worry about it,” he said impatiently, waving his hand.

“We’ve discussed this,” she said firmly.

“Okay, okay. Jesus.”

They were taking up most of the walkway, so you angled your body to quickly sidle past them. You saw him glance at you for the briefest of moments in your peripheral vision, but you made it to the door before you could catch anything else.

You had never heard him speak so crassly before, which was saying a lot, considering it wasn’t all that crass. You weren’t one for piety,  but it still surprised you to hear him take the “Lord’s name in vain”. He was involved with Capes for Christ, after all. You’d only ever seen his squeaky-clean media appearances, so you shouldn’t be surprised that he had his rough, unedited moments like everyone else.

During the following weekend, you became cognizant of just how inundated you were by his face. When you went on your customary shopping run, you saw it on billboards, posters, bus benches, and on at least ten percent of the products you found in the grocery store’s aisles. You were even haunted by a statue of him while enjoying a picnic in the park, his large, stone likeness looming just feet away from your blanket.

When Monday evening came, you were walking home to your apartment when you swore you saw something—someone—flying through the sky.

It had to be the Frequency Illusion. Because Homelander was all you could think about, your mind tricked you into believing that you were seeing him everywhere.

Sometimes, you even thought that you could feel him.

It was like you were experiencing a sense memory, your body reacting the exact same way it did when he stood next to you in that elevator. It was incredibly odd, but you easily brushed the phenomenon aside. You were having too many late nights worrying about the fate of your project, and you were prone to letting your imagination run wild when you were sleep deprived.

As the days turned to weeks, however, your obsession gradually died down. Homelander once again receded into the backdrop of your life, joining the ranks of other set dressing such as street signs or Taco Bell. Life finally resumed its typical, relatively boring thrum.

You salvaged your work, got drinks with your team, and routinely melted into a puddle on your couch. Work, fun, sleep, repeat. Your run-in with Homelander was reduced to a fond memory, an escape to the time he maybe flirted with you. It was a story to be told at many parties to come, a fantasy that would keep you warm on lonely nights.

—

You came into the office early one Monday morning, wanting some uninterrupted time to catch up on the work you blew off Friday. You had an unusual pep in your step, iced coffee in hand, as you approached your desk in the empty room. As you began to water your plants, you noticed a sleek, black envelope placed directly beside your keyboard. You looked around at the surrounding desks, realizing that no one else had received one.

You slid your finger to break the seal and pulled out a piece of paper, its texture expensive under your thumb. Vought’s logo was engraved in the upper right corner, signifying that this was an official correspondence. Curiosity consumed you, so you scanned the page’s contents as quickly as you could.

Please join us for our 5th annual

Gala for Crimefighting Bigotry

Saturday June 27, at seven in the evening

The Vought Palace Ballroom, 871 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY

Black tie attire

You stared at the elegant typeface, still not understanding why you were the only one invited. You flipped the paper over in the hopes of finding an answer.

As a member of the Super Spectrum Alliance, you are cordially invited to Vought’s fundraising Gala for Crimefighting Bigotry. We’ve selected you as part of an initiative to celebrate the richness of our company’s commitment to diversity.

We stand for truth, justice, and the importance of sexual identity to both our heroes and employees.

Join us for an evening of food, drinks, raffles, and a special performance by Melissa Etheridge. All proceeds will be donated to The Born This Super Foundation, which provides resources for at-risk LGBTQIA+ youth.

You looked up from the invitation and stared blankly ahead, trying to process what you had just read.

The Super Spectrum Alliance was essentially Vought’s pride club, founded by some well-meaning queer employees a few years back. You attended an SSA meeting once, but quickly abandoned it when you learned it was usurped by a suspiciously straight member of the People team. It was apparently an attempt to ensure all club activities and discussions fell in line with company values. Regardless, your name must have been included on the member roster.

The invitation read like code for “you’re one of our resident queers and we need you to look good for the cameras.” You weren’t upset, though—quite the opposite. In fact, you felt a jolt of excitement as the implications finally hit you. These things were exclusive. 

Incredibly wealthy people attended these. Supes attended these. You had seen footage of similar Vought events on the news and gossip forums alike, knowing full well that this was a deeply coveted position you were in.

As far as you knew, you were the only openly queer employee in your corner of the office, so you were certain you wouldn’t have a familiar face to cling to. That considered, you weren’t about to not go. This was an insane opportunity; if not for your career, then for the chance to enjoy an evening of the finer things (like winning something stupidly expensive in a raffle.)

What would it be like? Would you manage to mingle with the elite, camouflaging yourself with shop talk and unearned confidence? Or would you sit at the bar the entire time, scrolling through your phone to distract from your inevitable social breakdown? Probably the latter.

You spent the first half of your morning browsing photos from past galas, needing to emotionally prepare yourself by knowing what to expect. You scanned image after image of philanthropists in glamorous suits and dresses, clutching their champagne flutes with an ease that only came with money. You would also occasionally spot a supe socializing within the sea of bigwigs. You saw Queen Maeve smiling with politicians, Translucent wearing a bow tie (and nothing else), and many more heroes of varying levels of notoriety. You stopped scrolling when a photo of Homelander filled your screen. He was enchantingly mid-laugh while presenting an award to someone, and you were once again struck by how attractive he was.

You thought about him for the first time in over a week, his intense expression between the closing elevator doors flashing in your mind. Would he be there?

Also, more importantly, what the fuck were you going to wear?

[pinkgy]

What in Hell is Bad ? Erolabs IPA download ( IOS )

(A kind of helpful guide)

Note: This is based on my experience, I did this with a Macbook and an IPhone, if I’m not mistaken the process varies somewhat depending on the device.

Important Note: You need a pc or a laptop to download the Erolabs version of WHB through the IPA option. The app won’t download on the pc, it will be downloaded in your phone.

When you enter the WHB official site and enter the download page, you will find the IPA option, for this you have to click on download the IPA file.

After you do this, you scroll down and you will se a page that says “Steps”

(The steps are very clear and there’s even a video that shows that you should do, but some things can be a bit confusing, that’s why I’m doing this guide)

On the “steps” page you will have a link to download an app called “Sideloadly” if you have a Mac device, ignore the first step that says that you have your download ITunes. iTunes is discontinued and even if you download it, it won’t work unless you have a very old Mac device (the last iTunes version is from 2016 I believe, Mac devices from that year and bellow might allow ITunes to work, I don’t know if it’s required tho)

Sideloadly is a safe app ! So you have no need to worry about viruses and stuff.

Once you download Sideloadly, something like this should appear.

You have to enter your Apple ID (your mail direction that is linked to your Apple ID) where they indicate you, and you have to connect your phone to the pc through the charger.

Then, on this icon right here:

You have to drag the IPA file that you downloaded at the beginning, and the icon of WHB should appear there.

And then you click Start.

Once you click start, Sideloadly will download the game file, and once the download is finished, they will ask for your Apple ID password, you type it down (again, Sideloadly is a safe app) and press enter.

After a few seconds the game should appear on your phone, and once it’s fully downloaded you can disconnect your phone from your pc.

Once you open the game, they will ask you to allow the “Developer Mode”

You can find this option entering the settings of your phone, open the Privacy and Security page and scroll all the way down, and there should be the “Developer Mode” option.

To turn on the Developer Mode, your phone will tell you that you have to restart your device to put it to work, and once your device is restarted, you should have What in Hell is Bad Erolabs version !

As far as i know, the process is still the same if you have a pc that is not Mac. Unfortunately i’m not sure if you need to download ITunes for this, you don’t with a Mac, but you probably do if you’re not using one. The steps guide tells you to not download the Microsoft version of ITunes tho, but again, I’m not sure how this works.

Also, the common questions and their answers are available in the q&a page, which is at the bottom of the IOS download site.

If I’m not mistaken, this Apple ID login only works for 7 days, after that you have to log in again, which I think is not that troublesome.

I hope this little guide could be of help for you ! Any doubts you can always DM me or ask through the notes, I’ll do my best to try to help !

Hope you have an amazing day !! ♡♡♡

[russellsppttemplates]

Let me be there for you (Lance Stroll)

Your way of dealing with things makes Lance question if you are both on the same page

Note: english is not my first language. I never thought that a small blurb could lead to this, but I'm happy it did. Thank you to the people who sent in their ideas, and coincidence or not, some of them I already had in mind (some were tweaked a little), and they also go perfect with something I want to do for Lance and reader when they want to start a family, so hopefully soon I'll get to that!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions reader's period, a couple fight, hospital/exams, female fertility problems

"Would you be able to come here by the end of the week?", the lady asked over the phone, "this week is going to be difficult, I need to push a few things around to see if I can make it. Can I call you back once I know for sure?", you suggested back to her, "thank you for understanding. Have a nice day", you ended the call, sighing as you looked at the calendar app open on your laptop and, quite frankly, not seeing many available options for the appointment you were trying to book.

You were in the middle of changing things around when your boyfriend's text interrupted your chain of emails questioning if your schedule could be altered.

"Shoot, forgot that was today!", you cursed yourself for having forgotten that you had planned to have dinner with Lance at your place, now grateful that he had won the battle of who should be in charge of the food despite your previous insistence. The text could read that he was leaving his place to go to the take out place and then he would make his way to yours, which meant you had about forty fives minutes until he arrived.

Deciding that you'd leave the problem for tomorrow, at least until you knew for sure if you had the time, you switched off your laptop and moved to the living room, tidying it up a little and arranging the table so it was set when Lance arrived.

A knock on the door was enough to pull you out of your focus on the show playing on the TV, getting up to open it and allowing him inside, you waited until the paper bag was set on the table so you could cup his cheek and kiss his lips, "hello, sweetheart", he hummed as he separated your lips.

"Hi, handsome, how was your day?", you asked, helping him spread the food containers, "it was good, we did some testing on the latest developments of the car and some promotional videos, too. And yours? Is this a new table?", he said, "it was good. Oh yes, I got this on the weekend, the guys delivered it on Friday and I spent the whole weekend building it", you smiled, seeing Lance look at the plaster on your arm, "I had some trouble with one of the legs, but I got it under control", you explained, seeing his concerned expression, "you could've called for help", he noted, holding your hand as you sat down, "no need, I was able to complete it myself. Hopefully this doesn't fall all over though", you giggled, trying to soften his expression with a kiss on his cheek.

"Do you want to go to this weekend's race?", he asked, biting the food he gathered on the fork, "I don't think I can go, I'd love to, but I was only able to schedule an appointment for the weekend, and even that I'm trying to see if that works, but I'd love to go", you pouted, "I'll be watching from home, I promise", you cupped his cheek, rubbing the stubbly skin and smiling, "this one usually broadcasts early in the morning, like six or something", he nudged you, "then I'll just have to get a big mug of coffee to get me through".

"You said you had an appointment?", Lance recuperated the subject when you had finished tidying the plates, now sitting on the sofa enjoying eachother's presence, "yes, I have to go to a check-up, nothing major", you said, kissing his clothed chest.

.

Since Lance was leaving for Japan the next morning, you opted out to have dinner that his place, despite your insistence that you could do it at yours so he didn't have to worry about having a tidy kitchen and house, "I've told you I don't mind having to clean up, and I always love having you here, especially when you wear my clothes", he reasoned with you, feeling a bit cocky about how you had gone to his wardrobe and grab one of his hoodies because you were cold.

"Did you book the appointment?", Lance asked once you sat on his big sofa while he flickered through the channels, hoping to find something good for you to watch.

"I did, Friday afternoon they're going to do some exams", you subtly mentioned, "exams? I thought it was just a routine check-up", he wondered, now concerned about the situation. Truth was, he sometimes felt like he didn't get everything out of you. Like you'd tell him the basics of your life, almost in a way of not having him just about enough involved in it, but far way enough as well.

"They're doing some studies, but I don't think it's that big of a deal, it's about my period. Probably some bloodwork, they talked about a scan, but only if they think it's necessary", you mumbled, feeling Lance change his position so he could face you.

"Are you sure? I'd like to help in any way I can", he forwarded, "you know I want to be here as much as I can for you, you don't have to go through this alone, or do this alone, I'm here for you", he stated.

"I know, love. But I'm fine", you mumbled, "no need to worry, yeah?".

And it was like it broke then and there. "But I do worry, you know? I want to know things and do things for you, and you barely let me", he began and you allowed for him to continue, sensing that you needed to think about what to say, "it's like you don't want me to be involved in your life, like you don't want to rely on me, you don't want my help. And I'm all in Y/N", he said, rhe frustration clear in his face.

Being on your own for a while did that to a person. You'd grown protective of yourself and of your values, so you burst a lot bigger than intended, "what do you mean? I tell you about my things, and I have you in my life. And I love that, but I don't think I'm pushing you away", you reasoned back.

"You don't?", Lance snapped loudly enough to be heard but calm enough to still allow you to feel safe, "a while ago, you were busy juggling family matters and work matters, and I only found out after the problems were solved. Surely, I couldn't help with the problems themselves, but I could've helped you deal with their burden. Not even to build a table, Y/N. I'm sure I could've helped with that, and this appointment? I'm only finding out you're being examined because I asked. If you don't want me to know things, maybe we need to sort things", he gulped. He himself didn't like that option. He saw a future with you, so suggesting it came out of his mouth as quickly as he regretted saying it.

"I think you're being unreasonable, Lance", you stated. Was this the end of it all?

"We can't see eye to eye on this, can we?", he said, "I think we should think about this, with a clear head. I've already said things I don't mean in the slightest", your boyfriend suggested.

"I think it's a good idea, too", you gulped, getting up and grabbing your bag so you could leave.

You put on your shoes, lacing them carefully whilst feeling Lance's gaze on you, waiting desperately to hear the three words from him. Despite his opinion, you cared about him and wanted him in your life, so much so that at the beggining of your relationship you promised eachother that, no matter what, you'd never let the other go to sleep wondering if the other loved then. You could be mad or upset at eachother, but you had to know you loved eachother, so when he said "I love you", and looked at you, it made you feel a little bit better.

"I love you, Lance. Travel safe, okay?", you said, looking at him one last time before closing the door behind you.

.

The Buzzin Corner had been the first activity Lance got to do that got his mind off of what had happened, and for a bit he actually thought he had a good plan for when he came back, wanting to focus on his race first and then head home to you.

Sebastian had stopped by the Aston Martin hospitality, wanting to greet his old team when he saw Lance sitting in one of the sofas in the corner, "May I? You know being alone always makes your own thoughts louder", he smiled, sitting next to the number eighteen driver.

"Sure, it's probably for the best to be honest", Lance mumbled, "are you enjoying the weekend?", he asked, "it's different when I'm watching the cars race rather than racing myself", the German driver added simply, "it's a good thing I know a lot of people here. Just saw your sister too, and her husband. How is Y/N? I don't mean to be nosy, but I'm curious to know how she is", Sebastian asked Lance. He had met you in the last couple of races from the previous season, keeping you company a few times since you, too, preferred to stay in the hospitality rather than in the buzz of the paddock.

"She's back home, work has been keeping her busy and she had an appointment", Lance forwarded, thinking about telling him more. He and Sebastian had grown close, especially after being teammates, and he seemed to have a good marriage, so maybe he had some helpful insights about the situation. And the worst he could do was gossip about it with Mick, and even that he didn't think would be the case, so Lance figured it was okay.

"Actually, I've been meaning to talk to someone about this", he tried, seeing his previous teammate show no signs of not wanting to hear it, "Y/N, she's incredible, we've established that from the beggining. But I feel like she's not in this as much as I am?", Lance shrugged.

"What makes you think that?", Sebastian questioned, "it's like she doesn't want me to be there for her. Am I unreasonable to think that I should be involved in her life? She never asks for my help, and we had a fight about it before I travelled here", he gulped.

"I don't know her enough to answer from her side, nor do I want such meddling", Sebastian began, "But have you considered how it feels for her?", he pointed out, "I'm not taking any sides here, but I think it's important you see her side and she sees yours. Y/N is an incredibly intelligent woman, you know I said that to you after she visited us for the first race weekend", he smiled, recalling the many teasing comments of the German driver stating how he had definitely got lucky and of how whipped he looked for the young woman. "I don't think she would do anything to purposefully hurt you, I saw how much she cares about you. Maybe her love language is not the same as yours. I remember me and Hanna also had to work around them", he finished.

"I really don't want to lose her, you know?", Lance admitted. He saw a future with you. Whenever he thought about being married or having a family, or even growing old, he had you by his side. Despite knowing you wouldn't want a celebration like his sister had for her wedding, only because it wasn't your thing, but he couldn't help himself but think of how it would be for you. To see you in a dress and celebrate your love in front of the people you cared about most, to dance around and, most importantly, to spend the rest of his days with. "I don't want to throw the towell, but it's difficult to navigate this, and I don't want to say anything that would hurt her. When we talked about it, I already said things I didn't mean", Lance added, looking up at Sebastian, "make sure you talk it out like grown adults. No offensive words thrown around, because that will do you no good. If you're really in love with eachother, you find compromises and discuss them, see where one or the other bends, with balance, of course", the older driver advised, patting his back, "I hope everything goes well with you two, she's an incredible young woman", he smiled.

"Thanks, Sebastian", Lance smiled, too, now wanting the weekend to be over so he could talk to you.

.

Hi, love. I'm sorry your race got cut short but a technical issue. I hope you all have a safe travel home.

Also, I'm going to be home for the next few days because I had a small exam (I'm fine, by the way, just a little crampy), so if you want to drop by so we can talk, let me know, okay? I love you.

Those two texts on his phone warmed his heart slightly. He was gutted that he didn't get to finish the race, but still comforted by the fact that you had been watching and supporting him.

"Smiling about your lover, little brother?", Chloe asked, sitting in front of him. The family was flying back home together and everyone seemed to be either working or asleep, so Lance had the options to either talk to his sister or do what the others were doing.

"Yes, she just texted", he smiled faintly, his eyes not budging the part where you mentioned you'd be home, surely because it was medically prescribed given the exam you had. "She had an appointment today and she's saying she's done with the examination they did", he said.

"Oh, bless her. Is it because of her periods? She was telling me about it the last time we visited and she was very uncomfortable", Chloe thought out loud, "I've never had them, but some of my friends have had them and some of them are hard-core. Hopefully she can manage the pain and hopefully not need surgery", she finished, taking a sip from her drink and not notice how her brother's face had turned into worry.

Pain? Surgery? What was she on about? You mentioned some blood work, scans if they saw fit. But maybe you had a reason behind not telling him, so until then, he was going to work with the information he had.

.

Lance was up bright and early given the jetlag, thinking he would just get his day going before dropping by to your place. When he arrived the day before, he only had the energy to send you a text that he was home before he found the energy to shower and go to sleep, hoping to visit you today.

After his workout and another shower, he got ready and ate breakfast, taking his car keys out of the decorative bowl they lived in before making his way out of the door.

Driving to your place, he rehearsed the words and ideas he wanted to say. Now, he understood the importance of hearing your side of the story, because while he felt frustrated and a little hurt, he knew you were most likely not doing it on purpose, so there had to be another reason behind it.

Sending you a quick text and getting a positive reply back, he made his way to your place, parking his car and heading up to knock on your door.

"May I?", he wondered when you opened the door, getting inside and taking his shoes off before he kissed your forehead, heading with you silently to the living room.

"This is where I've been spending my days, so that's why there's pillows and blankets everywhere", you blushed, sitting yourself in a comfortable position so Lance could sit next to you, "we're here to talk, so do you mind if I start?", you asked, earning his nod.

Letting out a big breath, you looked at your boyfriend's brown eyes, "I've been on my own for a while, so I had to learn how to do things on my own. My parents always made sure I was raised as an independent woman because that gave me a feel of self security and some self confidence", you explained, "and so, for me, asking someone for help or accepting is not as easy as it is for some".

"But is that because you don't trust me to help you? Or that you don't want my help?", Lance asked softly, starting to understand where you were coming from.

"No, not like that. I trust you completely. And when I choose to not ask for help, it was never with the intention of hiding it all from you in a malicious way... I guess I'm just doing things like I was wired to do, and because of that I couldn't understand why you were so upset and mad about it", you breathed out, finally letting it all out.

"Then, maybe you can trust me enough to let me help? I understand where you're coming from now, but I promise I'm only have good intentions, and I want to be here for you. You don't have to deal with things on your own all the time", he brushed some hairs behind your ear.

"I didn't want to seem distant. It's just, I've been like this my whole life, and I never wanted to be overbearing. It's jus how I do stuff, but I'll make an effort to be better. Can't say it will be easy and linear, but we'll talk along the way, yes?", you added.

"Exactly. So, what are these exams?", he asked, holding your hand in his, rubbing the soft skin with his fingers, "I've always had pretty painful cycles, you know that. And because of that, my doctor thought it was best for me to get some further tests just to make sure things are working as they should. This time it was just a blood sample and the did a scan of my belly, and next week I have a smear booked which depends on what the other tests' results say when they come back", you gulped, "they're worried about some conditions, and fertility and all of that, so they think it's best if they catch it early", you shrugged your shoulders.

"Why didn't you tell me?", he asked, "Well, we established I'm not the best at asking for help, am I?", you blushed, "it's a lot for someone to take in. They keep saying that it could be nothing or that it could be something big, we just have to wait and see. And you've been in hospital recently in far worse shape, I didn't want to burden you", you said, earning a shake from his head, "I want to he here for you as much as possible in this, if you'll let me, please. Wether it's just bloodwork of a full body scan. I don't care if they're poking you with needles or some sort of exam, I want to be there because I care about you. You could never be a burden for me, and in matters like this, I'm not letting you walk through it alone, no matter what happens, okay?", Lance checked, earning a nod, "I need words, sweetheart", he teased, "yes, I'll tell you", you smiled, cupping his cheeks so you could press your lips in his.

"And we'll talk to eachother whenever we feel like we're not being understood. I don't care what it is about, we talk about it. You want me out of your hair? Okay. I need you to let me help you put on a sock? Let's do it!", he chuckled, making you smile too, "I want you for the long run, so I'm willing to make this work for the best if you are, too", he kissed your forehead, "we have a deal?".

Smiling, you pecked his lips a few times, "we have a deal. Thank you for being so understanding", you blushed, nuzzling your face in his chest, "now, I'm just going to get you a hot water bottle, your meds, and then we'll get comfortable enough to watch this show".

[purplecelestial-buddy]

The film club au??? 👀

The film club au! From this ask game

I've mentioned it once or twice but it basically is this really personal project that comes from a place of comfort (I was sorta of a film major once) but also discomfort (everyone has heard me complain about college group works and the making of a shortfilm is one of those kinda projects where you need the whole group for it to work out. You can fly solo for pre and post production but the on site recording will push you to rely on your team)

And despite being something so intimate to me it is also something completely foreign due to my brain latching onto the idea that Hanzawa should be the mc. I tried to deny it for weeks, out of... fear(? Idk. I feel I don't get him and I didn't wanna invest the time trying to get him but ultimately he secured his spot as the mc.

So rn the story goes about Hanzawa (who we know tends to overwork himself and has this whole deal about how other's perceive him) getting hand picked by some professors to become the president of the film club in order to restore the importance of the now forgotten film club so that the school can flaunt how much they care about culture in the next festival.

Hanzawa, of course, cannot refuse even if he wants to.

From them on he gets to meet the rest of the cast and struggles with the leadership of the club and his own emotional battle (about his tendency to do whatever it takes to come off as a goody two shoes and his relationship with his brother)

I could talk for hours about the details, in fact its silly how developed and underdeveloped it is (for example, I have a whole document about the role each guy would fullfil in the crew and I have a tab on which movies I think each of them likes but then I'm struggling to settle on the script of the shortfilm they'll be producing)

I think it has lots of potential due to factors such as depictions of homophobia and homosexuality in media (perhaps Hanzawa's predicament can be rooted in a movie he once saw with his brother) and the whole dichotomy of "reality" vs. "what shows on camera"

I think my overview of the plot is the best explation I could share:

God knows which scenes will make it to the end but rn I can offer:

"Is it actually necessary to film the room tone? Can't you just put any ambience over it?" "Each space has a different silence", Ogasawara said. "Here, let me show you." He opened his laptop to a music app and dragged two clips to the screen. They showed no visible sound wave. He turned the gain up and still, nothing was showing. Then he played it. They all heard it Was it the air circulating through the room? Or something more akin to the sound of emptiness? Regardless it was eary and loud. Hanzawa wondered if his silence during family dinners was that loud too.

As a bonus I gotta mention that I love this one illustration where they are all messing with broadcasting equipment.

[fushitoru]

Hellooo! You inspired me with your writing, and so I am about to write fanfic, something with plot (ooh scary). How do you plan out your stories? Do you use a program or anything? I'd love to get tips and tricks. Thank you and bye bye 👋

heyyyy pookayyyyyyy. im definitely not a complex writer like a lot of people seem to be on here or ao3, so take my advice with a grain of salt. like i've said before, i had to work on college apps last year so i became really good at writing stories/seeing plots in a very objective way for my pea sized brain to handle. but writing advice below the cut!

warning: maybe light bridgerton!gojo spoilers?

Q: How do you plan out your stories?

A: Sometimes, it's okay not to have a plan. You've probably seen this before, but writing is a nonlinear process where you write things that don't necessarily happen next in your story but you feel a strong urge to write them. Art doesn't need to have a concrete plan, you can let yourself free with how you write it. I get my best ideas for scenes at 3am.

But regardless, my answer to this would be that I make a checklist of "scenes" for myself. You have to address all characters' conflicts and keep track of them, and I can't do that easily unless I make a concrete plan for every scene. I also really like checklists, because I probably have undiagnosed ADHD and can't function without that dopamine hit. Same reason why I never like having a lot of asks unanswered in my inbox, so all the pending requests are kinda driving me crazy right now LOL.

If it helps, write out each character's "plotline" and how they're going to grow, then think of scenes that make that growth tangible to the reader. I have a LOT of trouble with this in bridgerton!gojo, which is the most plot filled. gojo is a complex character, so i have to keep reminding myself of his issues right now. for example, gojo currently is someone who has a lot of responsibility on him, and he has been conditioned to think that he can't love to stay on the grind. reader infuriates him because she's the first one who's really posed a challenge for him. he's going to realize that he enjoys spending time with reader BECAUSE of that challenge and how it simulates him, which simulataneously making him panic because he forgets who he is and the vow to himself to never engage with a woman/prospective match that could lead to animosity at home. since he doesn't want to have unecessary fights or feelings that could distract him from his duty.

however, he's actively fighting the happiness/weird feeling in his heart whenever he sees reader, especially if he sees her with another man (after this whole gojo manor arc). he's going to be extremely irrational and threatening any man who chooses to actively court her, and this makes him realize that he does deserve love, that there can be space for love while prioritizing your responsibilities.

now, im just going to make this into scenes, writing something similar for reader and any other character that may need to show character growth. and boom! series planned.

Q: Do you use a program or anything?

A: I write on Google Docs because it automatically saves and I can write from my phone or laptop, whichever one I have on hand. Particularly useful when I get an idea at 3AM. It's also useful to share with beta readers. I wouldn't say I use anything else, but I know notion is sometimes helpful. There exist resrouces for (professional) romance writers, so I would check those out since they're also applicable!

Some other things:

If English is your second language/not your native language, or you get stuck on how to write things, read. Read fanfics on ao3, read real books, read the newspaper, read political critique, read essays, watch video essays. I learned English using Harry Potter (and having to wake up at 5am to go to school early to do Rosetta Stone in elementary school). Develop your own writing style. Ever get stuck on scene? Read how someone else did it/how they wrote. Doesn't even have to be a similar scene

Writing a character for the first time is HARD. Gojo was so hard for me to write for, and you can deffo see that in my eariler fics. Keep writing, and keep writing. I'm not going to be able to write Choso or Nanami well as the main lead in my stories yet, because I've never written them. I promise practice is the only thing that helps you improve.

[web-witch]

Cyber witch practices: a look at the spiritual side of things

Those of you who have followed me for a long time know that I’m all over the place in terms of my practice. However, since coming to cybermancy, I have found myself drawn in by the concept of the spiritual side of things. Due to my personal battle with depression, I found that by utilizing cybermancy for spiritual healing, I could increase my dopamine levels and create a better life for myself.

In addition, I found that having a set schedule of doing things is great for those who are of the ADHD group. So, without further ado, here is a look at my personal daily practices.

6 Am: Wake up and check phone for new Pokémon in my Pokémon sleep app. The Pokémon go+ has been enchanted with a spell to increase Pokémon capture as these are essentially cyber spirits.

7 Am: Shower and listen to pagan music, an audiobook (audio-bibliomancy) or the radio while in the shower using a Bluetooth speaker.

7:30 Am: Get dressed and grab my laptop and go to eat breakfast. While I eat breakfast, I email the gods to help me through the day. I also perform videomancy or some form of divination/channeling. Bluetooth headphones and laptop or tablet are required for this.

8 Am: Back in my room, I perform my daily prayers through email, channel my classes and create digital charm bags and spells. The codespells are done through an intuitive esolang that I highly recommend everyone try to develop for themselves. It is my theory that every cyber witch has an esolang in their soul that works best for them. Codespells are then put into my watch as a form of charm bracelet.

10 Am: If I am not working on the given day, then I perform ludomancy (game magic) and game using a virtual game controller app and dolphin emulator. Through this, I keep my eyes open for the spirits that may decide they want to make a lesson out of something in the virtual world. If I am working, then the prior step would be the end of it.

Tools of a Cyber witch

Now I know I make alot of posts about this due to my major obsession with magical go bags and stuff, but hear me out. A lot of tech that we use on a day to day basis is larger than we are able to conceivably carry when we’re in the workaday world. For that reason I have compiled a list of tools that limit the amount of physical devices and increase the digital tools.

Laptop or tablet: Key item for any cyber witch. Self explanatory as the tablet or the laptop is useful for divination, spell coding, charm making, potion brewing (auditory potions) and astral projection.

Kindle: An e-reader is highly useful as it provides a distraction free place to read and meditate on things that might otherwise be lost in the background. Also makes a useful way to carry around reference materials and making notes.

Voice recorder: Useful for vocal notes regarding magical research and even just keeping an audio journal. This could also be done through the phone.

Smartphone: Kind of an all-in-one device for all kinds of magic. This serves as a wand, portal to the otherworld, altar space, grimoire, tarot deck and crystal ball.

Chargers: Kind of self explanatory due to needing to charge up our devices on a daily basis.

Bluetooth speaker: Ordinarily, this would get mixed in with the headphones, but I want to state that a Bluetooth speaker is highly useful for sound baths, astral projection, and works as a way to augment one’s own power.

Bluetooth headphones: Functioning as a form of talisman or (with a stretch of the imagination) a way to astral project and channel.

USB necklace: Kind of a bag of holding for magical ingredients.

Crystal and plant apps: I recently discovered that these apps not only help identify and provide useful knowledge about the things they are made for, but they are essentially cabinets of magical ingredients. All you need is to either look up the name on google images or just take a snapshot of the images provided in the app. There you go, you have your crystal for meditation or for casting a spell.

Does this post make you think of anything else that I might have missed, please message me or comment with your additions.

[leonenjoyer69]

how do you write. (specifically fics)

i have like some ideas currently but i havent brought myself to write anything yet at all 😭

also any tips/advice you find helpful would be cool too

Vjejfiejkf ty for this ask, I'm actually so honored--

First of all, I tend to write everything on my phone in a writing app, bc I'm not about that Laptop life, but otherwise, uh, I'll throw this into two categories--

Oneshots: generally for one shots I get beamed with an idea and immediately go Yap about it, either on my server or with one or two specific people that I know will help me develop it via feedback :3

then, I generally jot down a synopsis of what I have so far and random little ideas of what I want to include, usually so I can return later and know wtf I was thinking to do next. I have a good few WIPs where I didn't end up doing that, and guess who doesn't know how to continue them now, so yeah, always do AT LEAST a brief little synopsis. Also goes for multi chapter fics, ofc. They also don't have to be serious or anything, like, this was the thing up top for my mind jekyon fic:

Very silly, but it gets the whole idea and big points across.

Multichapter fics: okay, this one's,,, a decent bit different, mainly bc I have my girlfriend (who also edits my stuff) plotting things for A Little Identity bc I'm actually really bad at plotting and pacing longer stuff.

I usually go to her with ideas and future plans and she'll dive deeper into the ideas I have for the next chapter I need to write so I have more guidance, makes things much easier for me, bc I get stuck less.

But, this could also probably be substituted once more by must talking with someone you think could help you develop it. Feedback and extra ideas are a writer's best friend! Go yap about your ideas! Especially with someone you know will bounce ideas back with you!

Motivation to write tho,,,, I have a few things.

-listening to a playlist or songs that remind you of a character or certain scenario you wanna write about. I have a character playlist for each of my tgs OCs, and then one for A Little Identity in general, and there are a few songs I straight up associate with future chapters that I can't even talk about yet. They form a whole little scene in my head, and having that makes it much easier to write it. Additionally, when I maybe get stuck with characterization, I'll go listen to that specific characters playlist. Music is your best friend! I've gotten beamed MANY ideas from songs, at random sometimes too.

-do a sprint with sprinto! It's a discord bot that gives you a 15 minute timer and takes your starting and ending word count and calculates it, ranking it against anyone else who did the sprint with you. It's very good for more competitive people, and it's a very nice thing to have on a server. I've seen it get people out of a writer's block on my server, so it's certainly nice to use.

-let the writing drive come to you. I won't lie, most days just aren't writing days for me. The English language will allude me, I'll get stuck on where I want to go next, dialogue will destroy me, etc.

I think writing is just kinda like that sometimes, so just write what you can when you can! If you have a main fic you feel you need to update but also a bunch of little oneshots, then work on whatever you feel the drive to! There's no point in trying to force yourself to work on one thing when you have a bunch of ideas for another thing-- the most important thing is that you wrote in general.

The time will come when you get the motivation and ideas for that other thing, so just do what you can when you can, writing is writing :3

-reread what you've already written, or if it's a fanfic, reread/watch the source material. I can't tell you the number of times rereading all of Lanyon's lore pages has given me new ideas with Elias, as well as just reading through old stuff or incomplete oneshots that have my OCs and such. Sometimes you just need a refresher!

-read other fics. This generally helps see how other people format things, which can sometimes help when you're struggling. Sometimes I'll also search for stuff that has specific things that I don't know how to describe very well.

Andddddd I think that's all I've got? Hopefully this helps people, so go out and write! There's never enough fan fics 🙏thank you again for the ask :3

[eevylynn]

Lunyx: Alpha Code

Steter || G|| Omegaverse || 1688 wc

In a world where Alphas are stigmatized as dangerous and unfit to live peacefully, Stiles Stilinski and Peter Hale hide their true status by pretending to be other designations. They meet at a tech conference.

I don't usually read non traditional omegaverse, so I'll admit that this one was a bit of a challenge. Especially since I've only written one other omegaverse story and one other Steter story.

I hope you guys enjoy! <3

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Stiles stood in front of the hotel bathroom mirror, razor in hand. He dragged the blade over his jaw, ensuring there wasn't a single hint of stubble left behind. Clean-shaven, he could visually pass for an omega if he wanted, especially with what Lydia called his "doe eyes" and his cupid's bow lips. No one would look at that combined with a smooth face and assume he was an alpha on looks alone.

With practiced efficiency, he reached for his bottle of suppressant pills, dry-swallowing one before uncapping the pheromone-reducing lotion. The scent was mild as he spread it over his arms, neck, pits, and carefully around the base of his dick, working it in until his skin absorbed it. The final step: a scent-neutralizing patch, pressed just below the hair of his armpit. By the time he was done, the only thing anyone would smell on him was his cologne—a crisp, neutral blend that had been meticulously tested for the perfect balance of utterly forgettable.

Dressed in a crisp button-down and a blazer, cut in a way that minimized the broadness of his shoulders while still looking sharp, Stiles took one last look in the mirror.

Professional. Polished. Beta.

He exhaled slowly, squared his shoulders, and grabbed his conference badge before stepping out.

_____________________________

The convention floor buzzed with activity. A low hum of conversation filled the space, punctuated by laughter and the occasional enthusiastic pitch. Stiles maneuvered through the crowd, scanning for his team's booth. It didn't take long to spot them—Scott was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, gesturing animatedly while talking to someone about the biological data integration within their app.

"Finally," Lydia said, arching a perfect brow as Stiles approached. "I was about to send a search party."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Had to make sure I look the part of Lead Developer," he said wryly.

No one could know that their team was led by an alpha.

Alphas weren’t trusted in leadership. Too aggressive. Too emotional. Too possessive. If they weren’t trying to dominate, they were acting recklessly. If they weren’t too competitive, they were too unstable. At best, they were considered useful muscle. At worst, a liability. A properly behaved alpha knew their place. Their options were limited—bodyguards, enforcers, security heads, or if they were lucky, a pack alpha who kept their aggression in check under the watchful eyes of beta and omega advisors.

It was one thing for Lydia to be open about being an alpha—she was their mathematician, a genius whose intelligence outweighed any prejudice against her designation. And with Jackson, her omega mate and their lawyer, at her side, she had built-in credibility. She also helped to cover any lingering "alpha scent" on Stiles or any other members of their team who needed to present differently.

Danny, their only actual beta that was present this weekend, barely looked up from his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. "You always do. Now help us look impressive."

Jackson smirked, "Like we don't already."

They quickly settled into a rhythm for the day, answering questions, giving demonstrations, and networking. Stiles ran through his pitch a dozen times, each delivery more polished than the last.

Then, a striking omega in an expensive tailored suit stopped in front of their booth, and Stiles straightened instinctively.

The man was sharp—sharp suit, sharp eyes, sharp scent. His gaze locked onto Stiles with an intensity that sent a flicker of unease down his spine.

"Peter Hale of Hale Industries," he said, grasping Stiles hand in a firm grip.

"Stiles," he responded, shaking his hand. "Stiles Stilinski."

[continue on ao3]

[snowbunnywatching]

Could you judge my idea? Be gentle though 😐

A PSA system for Black men and white women to announce they’re dating. Each time a mixed couple reports themselves as dating, all iPhones, Androids, laptops, TVs, etc. within a 30-mile radius would receive an alert that’d let everyone hear the happy news. The new couple could put down their names or ask to remain anonymous, whatever they feel most comfortable with, but the purpose would be to build confidence for Black men and white girls.

Black guys who’ve developed shy, cautious personalities after internalizing a lifetime of racist rhetoric telling them they’re not good enough would quickly see just how valuable women find them to be, while hesitant white girls who perceive themselves as the only person around who’s attracted to Black men would realize just how widespread the ambition to date a Black man actually is. Imagine women who feel alienated about loving who they love suddenly receiving alerts about their friends, classmates, coworkers, cousins, aunts, sisters, and even mothers finding the new man they always wanted in their lives!

A simple app might seem nice, but I imagine someone would try to monetize it as soon as possible, and older Black men and white women who’re not as tech-savvy may not even discover it at all.

The downside would be the incessant pinging going off on every glowing screen; this would probably lead to demands for the notifications to be reduced to merely hourly (and eventually, just daily) summaries.

Other ideas could be announcements of new couples in the previews before movies, sections of newspapers or news sites solely dedicated to the ever-expanding list of mixed marriages, following the “happy birthday” announcements before sporting events with a new “best wishes” for all the new BM/wf relationships/marriages listed in the local area, etc.

Sorry if it's cliché, but hopefully there're at least some original, worthwhile ideas there.

I think it's a great idea.

A small modification: Instead of generating notifications, news of the happy couple appears on every user's home screen. Every user would have a section on their home screen that would show off random couples throughout the day.

The section would be locked, impossible to turn off or move. And clicking on it would allow you to view more information about the couple (should they choose to divulge it): Age, height, how they met, etc.

This way, every time you checked your phone, you would be greeted with a subtle reminder that Black men and white girls are falling in love all around you.

[lynzishell]

🎃🧥 👀

🎃 Pumpkin: What character continues to light up your mind and inspire you to write more?

Okay, maybe I should've saved the Asher collage for this ask 😅

Actually, I'm gonna go ahead and say Aspen 🧡 The brain rot is real with her! I genuinely think about her all day every day, and planning her future gets me so excited to write! It's fun having all these ideas that I can set up now that will pay off way down the line. And this is the first character that I get to develop from birth, so I'm having a lot of fun thinking about the dynamics I want her to have with her family and friends, and how I can start planting those seeds now.

Here.. have some spoiler pics hehe (all subject to change ofc)

🧥 Coat: Where do you feel most comfortable writing or brainstorming?

I brainstorm best when I'm doing other tasks, so I like to keep a notebook with me everywhere I go! The notes app on my phone works in a pinch, but I much prefer putting pen to paper. I even have a waterproof notepad in the shower cos we all know ideas are always flowing in the shower 😅 but also while I'm cleaning or going for walks. When I'm actually writing though, I am usually on my couch with my laptop and my cat. Super cozy, but terrible for posture, so I will actually be switching to a desktop pc soon.. hopefully I can make my desk a super cozy writing space 💖

[pes2013indir]

PES 2013 Indir How to Download and Enjoy Pro Evolution Soccer 2013

Introduction

If you’re a football gaming enthusiast looking to relive the excitement of classic soccer gameplay, PES 2013 remains one of the most beloved editions of the Pro Evolution Soccer series. Whether you want to play on your PC or laptop, learning how to PES 2013 indir (download PES 2013) safely and efficiently is key. In this article, we’ll guide you through everything you need to know about downloading, installing, and enjoying PES 2013.

What Is PES 2013?

Pro Evolution Soccer 2013 is a football simulation game developed by Konami. Released in 2012, it’s praised for its realistic gameplay, improved AI, and authentic football experience. Despite newer editions, many gamers prefer PES 2013 for its smooth mechanics and nostalgic value.

Why Download PES 2013?

Even years after its release, PES 2013 holds a special place due to:

Classic gameplay that is simple yet deep.

Realistic player animations and ball physics.

Strong community mods and patches that keep the game fresh.

Light system requirements, perfect for older PCs.

How to Download PES 2013 (PES 2013 Indir) Safely

Downloading PES 2013 requires caution to avoid viruses or malware. Here’s a step-by-step guide to help you:

Find a Reliable Source: Use trusted websites or official platforms known for hosting game files. Avoid random download links from unknown sources.

Check for Legitimate Files: Look for files with proper descriptions, user reviews, and safe download indicators.

Download the Setup File: Choose the correct version for your system (usually PC).

Scan for Viruses: Before installation, scan the downloaded file with antivirus software.

Install the Game: Follow the on-screen instructions to install PES 2013 on your device.

Apply Patches or Mods (Optional): If you want updated teams or features, look for popular community patches.

System Requirements for PES 2013

Before downloading, ensure your PC meets these minimum requirements:

OS: Windows XP/Vista/7/8/10

Processor: Intel Core 2 Duo 1.8 GHz or AMD equivalent

RAM: 2 GB

Graphics: NVIDIA GeForce 8600 or ATI Radeon HD 2600 or better

Storage: 8 GB free space

DirectX: Version 9.0c

Meeting or exceeding these specs guarantees smoother gameplay.

Installing PES 2013: Tips and Tricks

Run as Administrator: This helps avoid installation errors.

Disable Antivirus Temporarily: Some antiviruses block game files mistakenly. Remember to enable it after installation.

Update Graphics Drivers: Make sure your GPU drivers are current for the best performance.

Use Compatibility Mode: If you face issues on newer Windows versions, run the installer in compatibility mode for Windows 7 or 8.

How to Play PES 2013 Online

Many PES fans enjoy multiplayer matches. To play online:

Set up a stable internet connection.

Use third-party platforms like PES League or eFootball.net (if supported).

Join community servers or use VPNs if direct matchmaking is unavailable.

Always update the game and patches to ensure compatibility.

Popular Mods and Patches for PES 2013

Enhance your PES 2013 experience with community-created mods:

Updated team rosters and kits.

New stadiums and crowds.

Improved graphics packs.

Gameplay tweaks and fixes.

Look for popular patches like the PES 2013 Data Pack or SMoKE Patch for the latest updates.

Troubleshooting Common Issues

Game crashes on startup: Update drivers, disable background apps, or reinstall.

Lag or low FPS: Lower graphic settings or close other programs.

Multiplayer connection problems: Check firewall settings and ensure ports are open.

Conclusion

Downloading and enjoying PES 2013 indir is still very much possible and rewarding for football game lovers. With the right sources, proper installation, and optional mods, you can bring back the excitement of one of the best football simulation games of its generation. Follow the steps above, and get ready to score goals, make incredible passes, and experience the thrill of classic PES gameplay!

FAQs

Q1: Is PES 2013 free to download? Usually, you’ll find free downloads for demo or trial versions, but full copies might require purchase or use of legit platforms.

Q2: Can I play PES 2013 on Windows 10? Yes, with proper compatibility settings and updated drivers, PES 2013 runs fine on Windows 10.

Q3: Are mods safe for PES 2013? Most popular mods are safe, but always download from trusted sources and scan files for malware.

Q4: Can I play PES 2013 on Mac? PES 2013 is primarily for Windows; running on Mac requires additional software like Bootcamp or a virtual machine.

Q5: Where can I find patches for PES 2013? Community sites and forums like PES Patch or Evo-Web are great places to start.

[bluejay-writes]

MysticTober Day 3: Common Sense, Ch. 1

Prompt: Ending / Prologue

Pairing: Saeran/MC (Retta)

Wordcount: 1402

Author's Notes: I always loved the potential endings in the prologue for Another Story, and this one has been sitting around in my brain for awhile. I thought I'd be able to knock it out as a one-shot, but as usual Saeran has other ideas. So here's Chapter 1. This fic will eventually be finished - that sounds ominous, but I don't have another longfic in the works right now, and I have a couple other chapters planned for this during MysticTober, so! #soon.

You can also read this on Ao3 if that's more your speed!

Chapter 1: Apology Required.

Retta blinked and looked at her phone. The app wasn’t even on the app store anymore?  She’d uninstalled that app right away after the developer had tried to convince her to get into a car blindfolded and go who-knows-where to “test a game”.  She was in school for Computer Science, and even if she wasn’t, she wasn’t stupid enough to go somewhere when no one knew where she would be. 

The worst part was, she really wanted to learn game development, especially chat games.  There were so many stories she was just dying to tell in that fashion… but she really didn't know how to get started. Also, she was mortified. She’d had to tell him that she wasn’t interested in meeting him. That she didn’t need to know him.  And that… that was too much.  It was a lie, and even if it hadn’t been it was the worst kind of thing to tell someone. And she’d said it. He’d sounded so heartbroken, all she wanted to do was apologize.  

She thought maybe if she reinstalled the app he’d yell at her or something so she could apologize, but it didn’t even exist.  She’d tried looking up the R.F.A. that was mentioned, but all she found was a charity organization that had nothing to do with game development, and they didn’t have an app or anything, so it couldn’t have been them.

“Hey, Retta, Ray’s tea is ready.” Her coworker, Janelle, grinned at her. “Why don’t you take it over to him? You know he only comes here when you’re working.  I won’t tell the boss your boyfriend hangs out with you at work.” She winked, and Retta sighed. He’s not my boyfriend. She’d considered giving him her number, but he was always gone any time she worked up the nerve.  And trying to tell Janelle that he wasn’t her boyfriend was just asking for more teasing. She knew. She’d tried.

Retta picked up the tray and walked over to Ray’s table. 

“Ray? Your tea’s ready.” He looked up at her with a start, and then smiled.

“Thank you, Retta.” He said, softly. “Do you want to sit?”

She looked back at Janelle who waved both hands at her, and she sighed and sat down.

“What’s bothering you, princess?”

She pursed her lips, then sighed again. “You’re a customer. One of our best regulars. You don’t need to listen to my sob story.”

He shut his laptop, and took a sip of his tea. “But what if I want to?”

“Are you sure? It’s…”

“If it’s you, I’m sure, Retta.”

She felt herself blush, and looked down at the table.  This boy was like a fairy tale prince, and she didn’t deserve his attention, but oh how she craved it.  Would he think worse of her? Well, he was waiting.

“I hurt someone.” She started with the bare truth. “They needed my help, but I was too afraid to help them, and when they questioned me I lashed out.”

“Oh.”

He seemed disappointed.  That was fine, Retta was ashamed of her actions, she wasn’t surprised he was disappointed in her. She should never have sat down. Not during her shift.

As if to cement this thought, a wave of college students came in the door, and Retta jumped to her feet. “Oh! I have to get back to it.”  She turned her bright customer service smile back on, and turned to head back to the desk. Ray caught her arm, and she looked back at him.

“Same time tomorrow, princess?”

Retta shook her head. “I don’t work tomorrow. Thursday, though.”  She ran off to the counter before she could see his response - she didn’t know why she’d told him that. Maybe because he wanted to listen to her? He’d sounded disappointed in her, but he still wanted to see her so… maybe she hadn’t ruined her chances too badly.

Thursday was a slow day at the cafe. It would be the perfect day to actually get a chance to sit and talk to Ray.

Retta perched at the counter, watching the few people who came in and out.  She shouldn’t be surprised, it was a gorgeous day, and Thursdays were slow days anyway.  When Ray’s usual arrival time came and went with no sign of him, Retta wilted internally. He hadn’t come. Maybe he’d said that just so he could get away without her trying to apologize for disappointing him? Great, now she had two people to apologize to. Classic Retta.

Retta tied a clean apron over her dress, pinned on her nametag, and strode across the floor to unlock the front door of the cafe.  Fridays were busy days for them, and it was one of the only days where she worked the early shift.  She’d already been there since 4 helping the baker get everything set up, but noon seemed like an eternity away. She bit back a yawn and looked up to see their first patron of the day, standing outside the door.

“Ray? Here already? It’s only 6!” He was a computer nerd. He shouldn’t be awake at this time of day. Didn’t that go against some kind of natural law? But, then, she was also a computer nerd and she was here, so… maybe she was thinking too much into it.

“The other girl you were working with on Tuesday… Jenny? said you were here until noon today.  I couldn’t get here yesterday. I tried to tell you, but you ran off so fast.”  He chuckled ruefully. “I’m an airhead. I should know your schedule by now.” He yawned. “Oh. I need some caffeine, I think.”

“Hey, you came to the right place for that.” Retta said, and led him over to his usual spot - near the plants and the window, right by an outlet. “Your usual tea?” She was trying so hard not to think about the fact that he really was here just for her. Well for her and caffeine.

“Yes, please. And something sweet. I know your baker’s here, I can smell their work.”

“We’ve got—“ she started, but he cut her off.

“You pick. I trust your judgment completely.”

Retta blinked. “High praise.” she muttered, but then grinned at him. “Alright, I’ll be back shortly!”

She made his drink - a Victorian London Fog - and set aside two of the Apple-Honey tarts that the Baker had made special for today.  By the time his tea was ready, Janelle swept in and took up her throne at the register. 

“Oh wow, your suitor’s here already?” She said, winking at Retta.

“My lord, Janelle! I just think he’s cute okay? Cut it out before you actually ruin my chances!” Retta hissed, and then covered her own mouth, stunned at the words she’d said. Janelle just cackled and got to serving the new customers.

“Go take your break with the little prince over there. I know you need it, you’re dead on your feet.” Janelle shooed her away. and Retta wasted no time grabbing the tray with his tea, her coffee, and the tarts.

“…May I sit with you?” Retta asked when she paused at Ray’s table, and he smiled, closing his laptop and gesturing to the seat across from him, the same way he had a few days prior. 

“Of course, princess. I’d hold your chair for you, but alas, it’s a booth.”

Retta giggled and slid in across from him, passing him one of the tarts.

“Honey and Apple tarts.”

“Oh. They look divine.” He smiled, and cut himself a bite. The blissful face he made was worth every minute of her interminably early morning.

“Listen, before I get pulled out of my break early or something, I wanted to apologize. You seemed so disappointed in me on Tuesday, and I really don’t want you to be. I was sighing because I.. because I really want to apologize to that person, but I don’t have a way to contact them, is all.”

Ray paused, and shook his head. “It wasn’t you I was disappointed in. It was me.  Hold on.”  He opened his laptop and did whatever ten arcane things it took to unlock it and then turned it around to face her. What she was seeing was the same green glitched code that had shown up on that app when it glitched.

“I’m the one who disappointed you, Retta. I’m Unknown.”