#Or have to just... restart everything from scratch

[lm-thallen]

I wanted to start working on one of my Unreal game prototype from earlier this year again during the holidays... only to find half of the files had just vanished and the remaining ones are filled with compilation errors due to requiring the disappeared files to function.

I'm fine this is fine

[lisbethtylanhnem]

It should be illegal to be this stressed out about something you don't even HAVE to do.

[covenofagatha]

could you write something about divorced reader and agatha? them being mothers to a child, both decided to put what happened that lead to the divorce aside and keep communicating to each other as to try and keep a health relationship with their kid. they think their kid deserves to have both mothers present in his or her life.

then one day agatha discovers that reader is planning to go on a date, meaning she's trying to move on with her life. agatha is furious (in the jealous way), they argue a lot, it's very angst, full of emotions, they end up fucking and in the end they talk to each other about trying to restart things to be together again. they know it's not going to be easy but they realize their feelings for each other are still there. thank you!! (if you could angst and nsfw)

Okay this is genuinely one of my favorite things i've ever written so I really hope everyone likes it

Also my first time writing real angst so hopefully it wasn't terrible

Title is from a Taylor Swift song

That's when

Word count: 6100

Warnings: angst, smut, hate sex, fingering, scratching, biting

Going to be a few minutes late to pick-up today, got caught up at work. 

The text from your ex-wife makes you chuckle humorlessly. Of course she did. 

“What’s wrong, Mama?” You look up from your phone at the four year old bundle of joy you and Agatha shared. 

You give him a smile. “Nothing, Nicky. Mommy’s just going to be a little late today.” He shrugs and goes back to playing with his toys. 

You can’t stop the twinge of bitterness growing in your chest as you give a thumbs to the message, not even giving her a dignified response. 

Was it stupid to think that anything would change? 

When you and Agatha had first gotten married, you saw forever with her. She made you happier than you had ever been, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do for you. She always knew how to make you laugh and feel loved, and she was such an amazing partner. 

Plus the sex was mind blowing. She made you feel things you didn’t even know it was possible to feel. The older woman knew exactly what you needed all the time and it was like your body had been made for her. 

A year into the marriage, you both decided you wanted to have a child. Agatha carried the baby, using a donation from a sperm center, and then Nicholas was born. 

The moment you first saw Agatha holding him in the hospital room, your heart exploded with all the love in the world. You had kissed Agatha’s sweaty lips and told her that you loved her and Nicky more than life itself and that nothing was ever going to change that. She had told you that everything she’d ever wanted was right here in this room.

And for the first few years, things were really good. 

Agatha went back to work after her maternity leave ended, so you stayed home with Nicky. Some days were harder than others, but Agatha always made sure to come home as soon as possible to give you a break. She would cook dinner for everyone and after Nicky went to bed, she would hold you on the couch and the two of you would just soak each other in. 

But then, after Nicky had turned three, something started to change. He was in his toddler phase, so being home with him all day started to take a toll on you. Agatha would come home and find you absolutely exhausted, but at that point, she was moving up higher on the corporate ladder, so she was tired too. It felt like a distance had grown between you, and you didn’t know what was happening. 

She started to stay late at work, the need to become a partner at her law firm becoming all-consuming.

You still remember the first time it happened, the first time you tucked in Nicky alone, his big, sad, brown eyes looking up at you and asking why Mommy didn’t want to come home and see him. 

Your heart had clenched and you had to blink back tears before telling him that she was just busy at work and would come in and kiss him goodnight when she was able to. 

That had been the first fight of many about it with your wife. 

You had told her that she wasn’t putting her family first. She had told you that you weren’t giving her enough credit for everything she was doing for you and Nicky. You had told her that all you wanted was for her to be here to tuck your child in. She had told you that you weren’t being fair or understanding about her job. 

Agatha had slept on the couch that night and was gone before you woke up the next morning. 

Deep down, you could tell it was going to be the beginning of the end if something didn’t change. 

So you tried to. You tried to control your anger whenever she was late, you tried to make the best of it for you and Nicky. Bedtimes became a special thing for the two of you, when you would read him a story and kiss his forehead and then slip out once he drifted off to sleep. 

He stopped asking where Agatha was entirely. 

Occasionally a tense comment would escape from you when she got home an hour or two later and it would turn into an argument. 

That arrangement went on for almost a year, but fights were getting more common between the two of you. She made you feel crazy for being upset, which in turn, only made you more upset. 

One time, you told her that she needed to make more of an effort or else and she had scoffed. You had seen red and gotten in her face and you were almost yelling when she shoved you against the wall and shut you up by furiously kissing you. Her fingers had slipped down into your pants and she fucked you for the first time in months. 

You didn’t know hate sex could be so hot. 

After that, things seemed to be getting better and you thought that maybe the two of you had just needed to blow off steam. Your sex life certainly seemed to be back on track. 

And then it was Nicky’s fourth birthday. 

Agatha and you had planned a big party and invited all the kids from his daycare to your house for pizza, cake, and a bounce house. It was the first time in a while that you actually felt like your marriage was on steady ground, like you were on the same page again. 

You remember smiling at her in the kitchen while hanging streamers and thinking that everything was going to be okay, because you loved her and more importantly, she loved you. 

But then she got a phone call and your heart dropped when she left the room to take it. 

When she came back in five minutes later, a pained expression on her face, you felt nauseous. Of course. 

“It’s just going to be a short thing,” she had promised, and you had begged her not to go. It was Nicky’s birthday, he needed both of his moms and it was her day off. You told her that if she left, you didn’t think you could ever forgive her. 

She left anyway, vowing to be back within an hour. 

You weren’t even upset this time. You were just numb. 

The party went by in a blur and it didn’t even feel like you were present in your body. The only thing you remember was finding Nicky sitting under the table while all his friends ran around the yard and crouching down to ask him what was wrong. 

And he had looked up at you, bottom lip quivering, and told you that the only thing he wanted for his birthday was for Mommy to not have to work so much so that the three of you could be together again. 

You had to turn your head and bite onto your finger so you wouldn’t cry in front of him, barely holding it together while you consoled him and promised that Agatha would be back soon. 

Except an hour passed, and she wasn’t back yet. 

The party ended another hour after that and she still wasn’t home. 

After you had rocked a sobbing Nicky to sleep that night, you had gone downstairs, poured yourself a generous glass of wine, and sat by the fireplace, waiting for Agatha. 

And finally, at a quarter until ten, the front door swung open. Your wife crept in, gently setting her keys down so as to not cause a disturbance, and then turned to go upstairs. 

“You said an hour,” you said in a shockingly calm voice, startling her, making her freeze. She launched into an excuse about getting a new case and it was a really big one and she couldn’t get away, but you had cut her off and told her that you didn’t want to hear it. Thus started your biggest fight yet. 

You called her selfish and told her that she was being a bad mother to her child, she told you that you couldn’t possibly understand what it was like for her because you didn’t have a job. You had argued that it shouldn’t matter, that she needed to sort out her priorities, and she said that you needed to stop nagging and accept that she was an integral part of her company now. 

“You’re also an integral part of this family,” you had snapped. “Nicky needs both his moms. He was crying today because you weren’t there, Agatha. He said all he wanted was for you to work less. You need to fix this.” 

She had just stared at you like she didn’t understand what you were saying. “I’m so close to having everything I want. Just give me a few more months.” That was like a stab in the heart.

“A few more months until what? Until you become a partner and have to work even more?” Tears were streaming down your face in the flicker of the fire. “Since when is this not everything you want? Since when are me and Nicky not enough?” Your voice had broken at the end but you didn’t care.

A hint of pain appeared on her face but she had hardened. “I have to do this. You can either stand by my decision or not.” 

To this day, you don’t even remember squeezing the wine glass so hard that it shattered, but the next thing you knew, there was a sharp pain in your palm. You had looked down to see shards embedded in your skin, but the blood made you eerily calm. The wound was almost a wake-up call, a physical manifestation of what she was doing to your family. 

You met her eyes again. “I’m not going to stand by it. I’m done, Agatha. I’m not going to put Nicky or myself through this torture anymore.” 

You could tell that she wasn’t expecting it; she opened her mouth to say something but you had breezed by her to go upstairs, feeling lighter than you had in awhile. 

You had called a lawyer the next day. A small part of you kept hoping that she would promise to do better and beg to work it out. You would’ve called it off in a heartbeat. 

But she didn’t. 

The divorce was simple, for the most part. You had both agreed that you wanted it to be painless for Nicky so you decided that you would be civil and put your problems aside for his sake. He deserved to have both his mothers in his life, and the two of you were going to make that happen as cordially as possible. 

Nicky took the news about as well as any four year old would, but you both assured him that you loved him very much and that this wasn’t a bad thing. 

Things were awkward at first, especially Sundays at six when she would pick him up from you and vice versa. You didn’t know how to talk to the woman you swore you’d die with anymore, but four months in now, it’s gotten easier.

There’s light conversation now, maybe even some casual joking. But it always ends the same way: a terse smile, a kiss on Nicky’s cheek, and then a strained wave before the door closes.

You miss her, though. The way she smelled when you cuddled with her, the way her lips felt tracing your skin, the way she would laugh at some stupid joke you made. 

You try to ignore the pang in your heart whenever Nicky talks about her. It’s honestly been good for their relationship, now she has to make time for him because she doesn’t have you to depend on. 

If only she could’ve done that four months ago. 

And yet, it seems like she’s still putting work first, if being late today is any indication.

“Mommy says we’re gonna go to the park tomorrow!” Nicky squeals, jolting you out of your acrimonious thoughts. 

You look back at your son. “Oh, yeah? That will be a lot of fun, won’t it?” 

He nods. “She’s gonna push me on the swings! I went so high last time I almost touched space. It was so cool.” 

“Wow, Nicky!” You exclaim, laughing despite yourself. “You better be careful though. I’d miss you too much if you went to space.” 

He frowns, deep in thought. “I’d miss you and Mommy. Maybe you could both come!” His face brightens like he just told you a million-dollar idea. 

“Whatever you want, baby,” you say softly, leaning over to tousle his hair, and the doorbell rings. Every time she does that instead of just walking in, it feels strange. This used to be the home you two shared. You give Nicky a tight smile. “Go get your stuff.” He runs up to his room and you go answer the door. Agatha looks as good as ever and you swallow hard. You knew the whole thing was going to be tough, but you didn’t think being so close to her but somehow so far away at the same time would be the worst part.

“Sorry I’m late,” your ex-wife says, sounding genuinely apologetic. You shrug, not wanting to start anything. 

“Don’t worry about it. Nicky’s just grabbing his stuff.” Except it’s taking longer than you thought, so the two of you are just stuck standing there, trying to avoid eye contact. Some pick-ups are better than others.

“Um, so how are things? How have you been?” Agatha asks. 

“Oh, yeah, good. You know, starting to look for a job just to have something to do. Maybe down at the community center,” you tell her. She nods interestedly. 

“That would be good, yeah,” she says. She’s clearly racking her brain for more small talk to make. 

“And you?” You ask before the silence gets too much to bear again. 

She looks at you like she’s trying to figure out what to say. Her work has become sort of a sore subject to talk about, especially now. “I actually just made partner,” she says finally. 

“Oh, wow, congratulations.” It sounds hollow even to your ears. “So, um–” You start a sentence before knowing where it’s going, but thankfully, Nicky runs downstairs at that very moment. 

“Hi Mommy!” He cries out, sprinting over and almost knocking the wind out of her when he barrels into her with a hug. She takes a step back when she absorbs the hit and you instinctively reach a hand out to grab onto her to keep her balanced. 

Her eyes meet yours, a jolt running through you when you realize this is the first time in four months that you’ve actually touched her. 

You yank your hand back before you get too carried away in your thoughts. 

“There’s my little prince,” Agatha says, ruffling his hair, still looking at you. “Did you have a good week?” 

He lifts his head to peer up at her and she finally breaks away from your stare. “It was fun! Jack let me have some of his chips.” You chuckle, remembering the day he had come home from daycare and happily told you that he had made a new friend. Agatha quizzically glances at you and you shake your head fondly. 

“Wow, well I can’t wait to hear all about it,” she says, matching his energy, and you feel your throat pinch. Despite everything, Agatha was a great mom when she was around. “Alright, are you ready to go? I’m thinking we can get pizza for dinner?” 

“Yes!” Nicky pumps his fist and lets go of her to throw his arms around you. “Bye, Mama. I’ll see you next week.” 

You lean down and kiss his cheek. “Have a great week, okay, baby?” He nods, eyes sparkling like they always do. 

You stand back up and Agatha gives you a smile before leading Nicky back to her car. Watching them drive away tugs at your stomach like it always does, and when you can no longer see them, you go back inside to the empty house.

Grief rolls over you in waves sometimes when you’re alone, and this is one of those times. It’s like you’re being pulled under the surface if you think too hard about what it used to be like before things started getting bad. 

This home used to be full of love and warmth and happiness. 

Now it’s a cold, vacant shell of memories. Even the silence feels too loud as you walk to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine.

You drink a lot more when Nicky is with Agatha, and you find yourself wondering if she’s as affected as you are. 

Doubt it, you snort. She’s probably living her best life on her off-week, when she can come home at whatever time she wants and doesn’t have a nagging wife to answer to. 

You settle on the couch, glass in hand, and scroll through your phone. You down it quickly, and then another, and you decide to keep going. It doesn’t take long at all before you’re absolutely hammered. 

Fuck Agatha. Fuck her for choosing her job over you and Nicky. Fuck her for tearing your family apart. You would’ve been so happy with her. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with her. 

And now, what? You’re just supposed to start over? With some random woman? Supposed to go on first dates again, and talk about your favorite color, while the person who you loved the most and knew everything about you ripped out your heart?

Fuck Agatha. 

And then you get a genius idea. Maybe you should date. It could be meaningless, just a way for some company, maybe even sex. 

You’ve been waiting, hoping, for Agatha to change her mind. But she’s a partner at her firm now. 

She’s made her choice. 

Giggling out loud to yourself, you download Tinder and set up a profile. You scroll through your camera roll and are depressed when there’s mostly only pictures of you and Agatha, you and Nicky, or the three of you together. 

So you take some. Selfies have never been your thing, but in your drunken state, you have never been more confident. Some of the pictures you take are soft, some are a bit sexier, some are neutral. 

You upload them all, set the location for within five miles, and get to swiping. 

At first, it feels wrong, like you’re cheating on Agatha. When you get nervous, you still find yourself fiddling with the spot where her ring used to be, because it used to bring you comfort. The imprint she has on your soul will forever be there, you think. 

But it’s done. 

You steel your nerves and keep going, but no one is catching your eye. You frown, disgruntled, until finally you get to an attractive woman. 

Rio. 41. Loves nature and witchy things. 

You click through her pictures and are intrigued. You have a thing for brunettes, and her brown eyes are pretty pools of honey with a knowing look in them. There’s something intense about her, but you can’t ignore how hot she is. 

Before you can think twice, you swipe right and your stomach lurches when it says you have a match. 

Heart racing, you tap on the message icon, staring at the page. Do you make the first move or wait?

The alcohol decides for you. 

Hey. You hit send and immediately inwardly kick yourself. What a stupid thing to say. 

You turn off your phone and pinch the bridge of your nose until it buzzes in your lap. You look down and find that Rio replied. 

Nice pictures. 

You squint and click back to your profile, and attempt to really study them with a clear head. Turns out, all of them are blurry and it’s incredibly hard to make out any distinct features. You raise your phone again to take a new one and this time, you make sure that it’s clear before sending it straight to her with the message: Sorrrry i’m drung

It’s wrong, but you don’t care enough to correct it. 

Wow, doll. I’m glad you posted the blurry ones because you are too hot for anyone else to see. 

A blush spreads through your cheeks. It’s the first time you’ve been flirted with in ages. Feeling emboldened, you send a flirty text back. 

You keep talking for hours, until as you’re dozing off, she texts and asks you if you want to get dinner tomorrow night. 

The question is like a bucket of cold water being thrown on you and you start to panic. Thoughts of Agatha swirl in your mind, meeting her in a cafe, your first date, the first time she touched you, her proposing, her on your wedding day, her and Nicky in the hospital the day he was born –

– her working late, making Nicky cry, making you tuck in your child alone and explaining that of course Mommy still loves him and she’s just really busy, making you wait up to see her, breaking your heart a million times over again because she refused to change. 

You exhale slowly. 

I’d love to. You type back, and you turn off your phone before you can second guess yourself. 

You fall asleep on the couch, phone still in hand, a war being waged in your heart. 

The next morning, you’re awoken by your phone buzzing. You groan and hold it up in front of your face to find Agatha calling you. 

“Hello?” You say groggily, rubbing your head. 

You can tell she’s in the car by the loud sounds. Probably on her way to work. You roll your eyes, and then feel guilty. “Hey, Nicky realized that he left his pair of flip flops at yours and I was going to take him to the pool tomorrow. Can I come stop by this afternoon and pick them up?” 

You raise an eyebrow. “The pool on a Tuesday?” Who is this woman, and what has she done with your ex-wife? 

“I know, I know,” Agatha chuckles and it’s nice to hear her laugh. “I took off the afternoon because he’s been wanting to go swimming. Thought it would be a nice surprise.” 

You try to ignore the effort she’s putting in now versus when you were married. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll be here pretty much all day. Just text first.” You don’t mention the date with Rio, you don’t even wait for her to respond before hanging up. 

Trying to push Agatha and Rio out of your mind, you go take a shower to wash the smell of alcohol off you, and then run some errands. Grocery shopping is always easier when it’s your off-week but you still find yourself reaching for Froot Loops and Dinosaur nuggets. 

It’s about four in the afternoon when Agatha texts you that she’s on her way. You’re in denial about why you make sure your hair looks nice or you put on a bit of makeup, but it’s the first time you and Agatha have been alone since the divorce. 

Not that that has any correlation. 

And then the doorbell rings and your palms start to sweat. 

You swing the door open to find her leaned against the pillar outside, wearing a suit that has your chest squeezing. It’s your favorite, the maroon one that hugs her curves perfectly and the one she’s fucked you in more times than you can count. 

Agatha doesn’t wait for you to invite her, just walks in and up the stairs to Nicky’s room. You chase after her. 

“I’m surprised you’re not working right now,” you say, and she gives you a warning look. 

“I’m a partner now,” she answers, rummaging through Nicky’s closet to find his shoes. “I can delegate the busy work to others in the office.” 

You hum and reach around her to pull his flip-flops off a shelf and hold them up to her. You organized his room, you know where everything is. 

“Thanks,” she says, taking them, standing up, and awkwardly waiting for you to move first. 

You glance around the room to see if there’s anything else he would need for swimming. “Does he have his swim suit?” 

“I have a few pairs for him,” she replies, watching you carefully. You tuck your hair behind your ear, another nervous habit. 

“Well, guess he should be all set then.” You clap your hands together and she smiles sadly and walks out of the room. She pauses in the hallway next to your room, the room you used to share, and your breath catches, but she keeps moving toward the stairwell. 

“Do you, uh,” Agatha starts, turning around when she gets to the kitchen. You freeze. “Maybe want to have a drink or dinner or do something tonight? Nicky has a playdate with one of his friends, so it’ll just be me. Figured we could both use the company.” 

“I actually have plans,” you say carefully. Part of you wants to cancel with Rio, but you know you shouldn’t. This could be good for you. 

Agatha raises an eyebrow. “Working late?” She jokes, although it doesn’t land how she wants it and you both know it. 

“I have a date.” 

And it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room. You see the exact moment Agatha’s face changes, becomes darker almost. 

“What?” She growls. “With who?” 

You chew on your lip until she asks again. “I went on Tinder last night.” You don’t offer more than that, but her lip curls and you can tell that she’s angry. 

“So now you’re just whoring yourself out online?” She spits and your blood boils. “You were going to, what, bring some slut to the house my child sleeps in?”

“He’s not here this week, Agatha,” you remind her and she scoffs like it doesn’t matter. “You haven’t been on a date yet?” Now that’s a surprise to you. 

She rolls her eyes. “Of course not. I’m too-“ 

“Busy? Yeah, tell me about it,” you cut her off, poison dripping in your tone and she fixes you with a glare, throwing her hands up in the air. 

“Don’t even fucking go there,” she warns. “That’s what this is always about with you. I’m so fucking sorry that I was ambitious and wanted more.” The sarcasm hits you like a brick and you grit your teeth. 

“It was about more than that and you know it,” you snarl. “You constantly neglected Nicky and I, you put everything else above us. You weren’t there for your own son’s birthday party, so fucking sue me for going on a date. We’re divorced, I can do whatever the fuck I want. At least she won’t completely ignore me.” 

It’s the wrong thing to say and you know it the second it leaves your mouth. She explodes. “Ignore you? I didn’t ignore you, do you even hear yourself? I tried to be there for you, I really did, and now you’re just throwing that away. I was doing the best I could, I was under so much stress with my job and then a toddler, I was fucking drowning.” 

“Why didn’t you talk to me then?” You cry out, digging your nails into your palms. “You could’ve told me how you were struggling instead of just fighting with me! And I’m not throwing it away now, Aggie, you were the one who did that when you gave me that ultimatum.” You can hear her breath suck in when you call her that nickname and tears prick your eyes. How did you two get here? 

“I didn’t think you would just give up,” she says, voice strangled, and a weight comes crashing down on you. 

“What?” You whisper, and for the first time, you can see that the older woman is affected too, hurting. 

She wipes her eyes and sniffs. “I didn’t think you would just walk away like you did. I thought you’d say that we could work it out, like you always do.” 

And then you get it. That night, she wanted you to cave again. She thought you would give in and let her get away with it. Like you always did. “Stop,” you say coldly and she looks at you with surprise. “You don’t get to manipulate me anymore and turn this on me. I tried so hard to fix this and to be okay with it, but you were never going to change. Except now you have, for Nicky. So what, was I just not worth it?” 

“Do you know how many times I wish I had changed? I should have listened, I’m sorry,” she says, and you wish you could believe it. 

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m going on this date and you should go,” you snap. You start to walk out of the kitchen and to the front door when her hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. You move your arm, trying to get free, but she yanks you back against her, your chest colliding with hers. 

You lose the ability to breathe and you try to avoid looking at her lips as she walks you backwards until you hit the wall. 

“Tell me you don’t still think about me,” she hisses into your ear. “Tell me you don’t miss the way I made you moan louder than anyone else ever has. Tell me you don’t miss the way I fuck you.” 

Your nose twitches in anger and you lean in closer to her. “I don’t,” you glower, even though it’s not the truth at all. She knows it too. Her grip on your arm tightens. 

“Really?” Her voice is slippery smooth now, dropping an octave to the tone that always made your stomach heat up. “When you’re alone in this big house, you don’t think about my fingers or my mouth or my cock, fucking you the way only I can?” 

You shiver, body betraying you. But you hold your ground and deny it again. 

Her other hand comes up and pulls your hair, forcing your head to the side, and she puts her face next to your ear. “You forget, baby, I know what it looks like when you lie.” Her tongue licks your earlobe and you bite back a moan. 

It’s been so long, too long, since you’ve been touched. You’d have this reaction if it was anyone else, you tell yourself. 

“Do you really think that Tinder slut can fuck you right? Let me tell you a secret,” she says dangerously, one hand sliding down your body and stopping at the waistband of your shorts, giving you ample time to stop her. You don’t and she smirks, knowing she’s won. “She can’t. Only I can.” 

Her fingers dip inside and cup you over your underwear and your mind goes blank. 

“You’re telling me that you don’t think about me while you’re this wet? You’re an even worse liar than I remember,” she taunts, but you don’t care. 

You need this too bad.

“Shut up and fuck me,” you bark, moving your hips over her hand, trying to get any kind of stimulation you can. She doesn’t give you what you want. 

“Tell me the truth,” she coos. 

You’re so angry right now, but you also haven’t felt this alive in four months, so you drag her in for a bruising kiss. Her teeth clash against yours and she practically shoves her tongue down your throat and roughly bites your lower lip. You moan into her mouth and rip your arm free out of her grasp so you can scramble to get her suit jacket off. 

Figures this would be happening while she’s wearing that. 

You claw at her bare shoulders, making sure to rake your nails across her skin and she hisses with pain, so you do it again. She trails her lips down and sinks her teeth in hard to the juncture between your shoulder and neck. You yelp but it quickly turns into a moan when she moves your underwear to the side and shoves two fingers inside your waiting cunt. 

Agatha’s head drops back as your eyes roll in your head. “Fuck, baby girl, I’ve missed this,” she sighs and you pull her to you urgently for another kiss, needing to make up for lost time. 

It’s like nothing changed at all, and yet everything has, when she sets the same familiar fast pace from all those times before. 

“She’s not gonna know what you need,” Agatha pants against your lips, thumb roughly swiping at your clit, pulling frantic gasps from your mouth. “Only I do. God, I’ve missed your cunt. Say it.” 

“I’ve missed your fingers,” you finally give in and groan. 

She thrusts them particularly hard and it has you clenching around her, biting onto her shoulder. 

“And?” She urges. 

“I’ve missed you,” you whimper, and she rewards you with a twist of her digits that has you groaning. 

“Good girl,” she moans. “I’ve missed you, too.” Her admission sounds choked, and it makes the fire only burn brighter in your stomach. 

And you want more. “Tell me you think about me,” you beg, and she raises an eyebrow, stopping her thrusts to fit a third finger into you. She curls them and you whine. 

“I fucking think about you all the time,” she says like it pains her. “I miss you so fucking much.” Your breaths are intermingling with how close you are and you lift a leg up so she can get in deeper. 

“I think about you too and I fucking hate it,” you snarl witheringly and she just chuckles and scissors her fingers inside you, effectively cutting your words off for a second. “You’re always on my mind and I can’t get you out of it.” 

You’re getting closer and you know she can tell by the way your walls are fluttering around her. 

“Tell me you still want me,” she orders and you keen, hands grappling around her to pull her even closer if it’s possible. You’ve missed her so much, the way she feels against you. Everything feels right again. 

You’re clenching, getting tenser, and you know you’re about to cum. But she slows her movements and you think you could cry. 

“Tell me the truth and I’ll keep going,” she says, voice getting softer. Tears form in your eyes and you know that you’re about to change anything. 

You press your lips to hers and then pull back. “I still want you, Aggie, I still fucking love you so much.” 

And her eyes get a feral look in them that you’ve rarely seen, even when she gets most possessive. 

“Say it again,” she demands, voice low, as she starts fucking you roughly again. 

“I love you, I still love you,” you practically sob and she kisses you harder than she ever has. 

“I still love you too,” she says into your open mouth, and you cum all over her fingers. 

She gently thrusts into you while you come down from one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had. 

“I should’ve made more time for you and Nicky,” Agatha says softly. “I’m sorry, baby. I went too far and I wasn’t listening but I promise, I want to do better this time. Please, just give me another chance.” 

This is the first time you’ve ever believed her. You’ve already seen what she’s doing when she has Nicky. And to be honest, you don’t think you’ll ever stop loving her. 

“Are you sure?” You ask, just needing to be certain. “We have a lot to work on.” 

She nods. “I know, baby girl. But I love you and these last four months have been hell. I know it won’t be easy but I want to make this work. For you and for Nicky.” 

Overwhelmed, you pull her in for a long hug, finally admitting to yourself how much you need her. It felt like there was a piece missing from you, and you just got it back. 

“Okay,” you say and you feel her smile against your cheek. “Let’s do it.” 

She kisses you so sweetly it reminds you of your wedding day and then breaks it to laugh happily. 

“So what now?” You ask. 

She smirks. “I think you have a date to cancel.” 

[zalayni]

𓂃 💫 ੭ ᝢ SUGAR ༉

spendin' all my nights alone waiting for you to call me. you're the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep 💤

❛ pairing: earth42!miles x reader

❛ summary: after a long day there's nothing better than having your lover help you as you do your night time routine, no matter how girly it might be.

❛ warnings: the lower caps are intended. reader uses she/her pronouns.

❛ author's note: this is supposed to be longer but I lost everything and had to restart it from scratch. also this isn't proofread what so ever. I live like a warrior i'll die like a warrior 🫡🫡(I'm too lazy to read alat)

if anybody told Miles from when he was new to being prowler that he would be sitting in his room, wiping a girls makeup off specifically HIS girls makeup off he'd just tell them. “man you're buggin.”

yet here he was.

after a long day of standing around with music blasting in your ear while people laughed in the background you were finally back alone with Miles. it was silent but at the same time it was comforting. Miles was there kneeling infront of you, wiping your makeup off as you sat on the vanity chair he had bought and installed in his room along with the hello kitty mirror he saw people hyping up on tiktok.

don't get it mixed up though Miles would never use that vanity, he bought it for you. he filled up the drawers with makeup and products he'd see you use just for you. he did all of this because all he wished was for you to feel at home with him.

he went through the hard work of building and putting up the parts by himself as he was too embarrassed to ask uncle aaron or his mom for help. what would uncle aaron say if miles would randomly come in his home saying “help me build this pretty pink and white vanity I just bought.”

you always crashed at his place or miles would crash at yours. either way he always insisted on helping you with your nightly routine.

"all done Mami, now go wash up. I'll get your pajamas from the laundry." Miles attempted to get up before getting stopped by your hands pulling him down to peck his cheek. you pulled away while muttering a thank you.

Miles smirked at you while getting up.

"yeah, no problem. anything for my girl."

miles was the sweetest person to ever come into your life. who knew Brooklyn's number one killer would be such a lover boy? maybe it's because of the fact that he's always been a mamas boy growing up.

you finished up your shower, wrapping the towel around your body before a knock echoed through the bathroom. "ma, can I come in? I've got your pajamas." you quickly opened the door to see Miles standing there with your pink pajama set in his hands.

he stared at your figure watching as water droplets still slowly rolled down your body.

"Morales you're staring at me." you playfully said while side eyeing before taking the clothes out of his hands. Miles huffed and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer silencing your giggles with a kiss.

"whatever ma you're trippin' I wasn't even staring you're just reading into it too much. even if I was can you blame me? I bagged such a pretty girlfriend."

Miles eyed you down once again before leaning close to your ear. "maybe even future wife."

ugh what a tease. yet everytime he did this you felt butterflies in your stomach.

he chuckled before exiting the bathroom leaving you there staring at his back, stunned. you shook it off with a laugh and got dressed so you could be back in his arms.

you brushed your teeth and did your skincare that Miles would always restock on. you felt bad as they were pricey but he would always insist on buying them for you.

you hanged the towel on the rack to dry and exited the bathroom, practically speed walking to Miles room. once you opened the door you were met with Miles laying comfortably on his bed with nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants on. He had his arms up with his phone in his hands scrolling on whatever socials he was checking up on.

you closed his bedroom door before crawling in between his arms, laying your head on his chest. Miles sighed and put down his phone, wrapping his arms around you. He pecked the top of your head making you look up at him. "long day?" you asked him making miles suck his teeth.

"tch. ma you were there with me, yes the function was fun but of course my mom had to make us stay till past midnight talking about some ‘hold on we'll leave after I'm done talking.’" you laughed at him mimicking his mom's voice whole repeating what she would keep saying during the function.

mrs morales loved you so she told Miles to invite you to their family's function as his date which you gladly said yes to.

the day was long and your feet might've ached from all the standing as every seat was taken up, your stomach might've hurt from all the aunties insisting on you to eat more but at the end of day you got to see Miles smile, and it wasn't because of you. for some that was the rarest sight to witness.

after the death of his dad Miles drifted away from everyone but here he was laughing and bickering with his favourite cousins. he was actually playing his favorite sport, basketball for once and laughing whenever he'd steal the ball from his cousins.

you witnessed Miles grow as a person and slowly pick up broken pieces. it was truly heart warming.

here you laid in the dead of night, ear on Miles chest hearing his soft heartbeat with your eyes closed. you were calm yet your head was racing with thoughts. you decided to break the silence after awhile of listening to his breathing pattern and heartbeats. "hey Miles, I'm not sure if you're asleep but I have a question."

it was silent for awhile making you think Miles fell asleep before you could ask it but then he answered. "go ahead Mami, I'm listening."

"would you give the world to me?" you looked up at him only to see his half lidded eyes staring down at you. "mhmm no."

your heart dropped at his answer, lips close to quivering, but the hard beating of your heart slamming against your chest was calmed down with what you heard him say afterwards.

"hermosa, why would I do that when there's other planets too?"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

please do not steal, copy, translate or put my work on any other apps. thank you for reading 🫶

artwork in header made by koscribbls on instagram

[sunrisecaminus]

hello !! can i have some headcanons for starscream, knockout, breakdown, and airachnid (or any of them) with a human artist reader who follows them around and wants to draw them ?? thank you ><

Message - All four of these mechs are egotistical as hell, they would cherish everything their human made so this is perfect as headcanons.

Starscream/Knockout/Breakdown/Airachnid x Artist Reader Headcanons

Summary - Decepticons react to their human painting/drawing them.

Warnings - None

Starscream

Honestly he is the best mech for this type of thing. He LOVES when you draw him doing things that make it look cool. Sometimes whenever you draw him in a bad angle, he quickly tells you "Scratch it!" and watches as you quickly scribble the portrait and flip to a blank paper to restart. Starscream sees you as his secretary and pretends to order you around. "Y/n write that down!", "That is perfect for my new profile.", and "Draw me like this". If you couldn't draw him that day for being sick or being too tired, he would check up on you every hour from being so worried about you. He loves when you follow him like a puppy and doesn't want his human to die. He gets super protective about your work and would give someone a hard time if they said your art sucked. Starscream would hide you all the time from lord Megatron; he was never going to let his leader hurt the sweet little pet he got from earth. Look, Starscream understands you were a weak useless little bug for the war, and could never help them out when it comes to battling, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want you to feel alone like he use to feel, wanting you to stay safe with him and let you draw any of your masterpieces without insulting you. No he is not really good at drawing people, but after helping him learn how to draw, you realized he was very good at backgrounds.

Knockout

He has to be one of the worse people to draw, surprisingly. Knockout would go in position to let you draw him, but than thinks of a better position to draw and switches it half way for you to redraw him even though you were already focused on the first. The more the mech loves themselves, the worse it is for them to SIT STILL. Thankfully now you don't tell him when you are drawing him and secretly sketch him when he works. When Knockout sees the final portrait, he would give you compliments for the rest of the day. "My! You even got my fingers right. You flatter me~" Get ready for kisses of approval. If anyone said your drawings was shit, he would actually kill them during surgery or put them in the most torturous situations. For example, lets say a guy tells you in the face that the sketch looked like aft; If that soldier was ever injured after a battle, get ready for Knockout to just deny him his medical services. He treats you like an equal, but some would say he treats you like you were higher than Megatron. Anything you asked of him, he would answer. If you wanted something, it was his mission to give it to you. Nothing would stop him from loving you, now please give him more drawings of himself. If you taught him how to draw, he would be AMAZING at drawing people. He makes really good blueprints of Cybertronian frames and even can draw you very well. Honestly, you probably have a new drawing buddy.

Breakdown

This big boi gets so flustered every time you draw him. Breakdown can't believe his human looks up to him like that and cherishes you for showing him love in your own way. Every paper you give him makes him feel very nervous on touching it. Breakdown doesn't ever want to ruin your stuff. He will keep every single one of them and look at them in his Birth room anytime he felt stressed or angry about something. You were everything to him, wanting to protect you from the other rough soldiers he works with. Anybody that says your art is crap will get the beat down of a life time. People don't understand why he cares so much, but honestly he is one of the sweetest souls that could be with you. You mostly draw him when he is in action, taking in all the good angles of him smacking Autobots. Breakdown is proud of all the shots you got of him and pats you on the head for such good sketches. He understands you will be losing your supplies the more you sketch, so he tries to rob trucks going by to try and steal some for you. It is cool from how many different paint products he can find for you and it gives you a bigger variety of things for creativity. If you helped him figure out how to draw, he would be good at emotional paintings. Breakdown is good at making shapes and splattering paint perfectly where it should be on the canvas.

Airachnid

So we all know this freak would replace species heads with your art. She would force you to draw every species she was able to collect so she could have your achievements on paper forever. She loves it when you draw her, and hangs them everywhere on her ship. Airachnid is really good at complimenting or critiquing your work, being able to tell you where something needs to be fixed while also saying she doesn't care if you don't and still loves your style. No one would insult you for the mere fact that you are Airachnid's pet. No one would dare call your art a piece of scrap because Airachnid would murder them in front of Megatron, even if he tells her not to. Yes, she has little star stickers to put on the edge of your paintings to show which one she likes the most…yes she stickers all your art so you can't figure out which one her favorite is. Don't try to ever draw other people in front of her, she will get jealous and keep you hostage in her ship as punishment. If you had trouble finding art supplies, she would destroy a Walmart for you in no time. Her human will have a storage full of supplies, don't worry you will never run out. If you taught her to paint, she would be really good at graffiti style. Making animals or spraying bubble letter graffiti around where she killed to tease/anger the Autobots is her favorite pass time.

[crazycatsiren]

If you're resuming your witchcraft practice after an extended hiatus, you can't expect to get it all back right away.

It's like an athlete having taken a long time off from training. Returning to their sport, they're not going to be training for a marathon on day one.

Start small, even if you're restarting, even if you've been a witch for many years. You don't have to do everything from scratch on ground zero, but it's going to take time to get your mojo back, to return to the swings and rebuild a routine, to get used to the ebbs and flows of things again.

Be patient and gentle with yourself. There's no rush. Your magic is still here for you. You just have to gradually build up your stamina and get back into shape, the muscle memory will return.

Progress, not perfection. Tiny steps will grow into bigger ones. It will come back to you and it will be as if you never left.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Let's Talk About That

I saw the end when we began (1)

Psychiatrist!Avenger!Fem!Reader × Wanda Maximoff

Summary: You are the young psychiatrist for the Avengers, and you take your job very seriously, but what happens when Wanda joins the team, turning your life upside down?

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: legal age gap r is 19 w is 25, talks of death and grief, a bit of angst, therapy sessions

A/N: I had this idea for a while and wrote it a while ago, but spruced it up for publishing. I hope you enjoy it!

May 7th-10th 2015

The only sounds to be heard were the scratches of your pen against paper as you wrote down notes the old fashioned way and the hum of the AC unit installed in your office. Tony let you have a nice corner of the tower where there was sunlight and windows. You had gone with a soft gray for the walls, an L-shaped mahogany desk that had both a desktop computer and your laptop. Across from your desk was two couches and a coffee table between them with an assortment of fidget toys, a succulent, a handful of magazines, and a box of tissues. 

Everyone had been away on an important mission and normally you’d go with, but you'd been recovering from a previous injury, you still are when you hear a knock on your door, 

"Open." You let them know and just from their aura you can tell it's Tasha, but she's with someone else, an aura you don't recognize. You look up to find a girl with chestnut colored hair, and a dark aura around her. "Hey Tash. I'm glad you're all home safe. I'm assuming we'll restart our sessions?" You ask the red head. 

"Yes. We can resume them. Tomorrow. Today I need you to have a talk with this one." Tasha helps her into the room and gestures for her to sit down, Tasha walks over and hands you a large file. "She came from HYDRA, they had a lot of info on her, she had joined us in the fight against Ultron." Tasha tells you before lowering her voice, "She lost her twin brother during the battle. So maybe you can get her to talk." You smile at Tasha and then look past the red head. 

"Yeah of course we shouldn't have any issues Tash. Leave it to me." You tell her as I adjust your glasses, quickly looking over her file as Tasha exits, closing the door behind her, "Wanda Maximoff, 25, born in Sokovia." You say out loud as you walk around your desk to the other couch across from where she's sitting criss-cross. You take notice she's taken her shoes off and smile, taking note of the fact that she’s comfortable enough to do something like that. "I'm Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I'm 19. I'm also an Avenger. I have a power that allows me to see auras and emotions. I can also influence people's emotions and use my voice to influence others around me." You tell her a little about yourself first to help make her comfortable with talking about herself.

"You're 19? How are you a doctor?" She finally talks and you can hear her thick Sokovian accent which is like music to your ears. 

"I'm very smart. Graduated high school at 12 finished my Doctorate last year for psychiatry and Tony took me in as the Avengers Psychiatrist shortly after that. Everyone here needs a little bit of help and that is what I'm here to provide for you." You smile at her as you open a fresh notebook for her, choosing a red covered one noticing that she was wearing Tasha’s red leather jacket. "So tell me a little about yourself. Anything you want." You ask as you jot down her basic info on the first page. 

"I love American sitcoms." she tells you first. You smile and look at her over your glasses. 

"Why is that?" You ask as you jot down her words. 

"We used to watch them as a family every night so we could learn English." She tells you making a smile appear on your face. 

"When you say we who does that entail?" You question the Sokovian wanting to get to the root of her problems. 

"My Mama, Papa, and Pietro..." She tells you solemnly. 

"Who is Pietro?" You inquire, looking up from your notebook. 

"He is...was...my twin brother." You jot down everything she says during your session and she does open up a little bit with some persuasion on your part, but that isn't unusual for your sessions. 

"Well Wanda thank you for opening up to me. Your aura is looking a little warmer from when you first walked in. How about you come back in three days for another session?" You tilt your head as you grab a little card for her. 

"Why three days?" She asks nervously, tugging at her sleeves attempting to cover her hands, but the jacket doesn't budge. She starts picking at her nails as an alternative, chipping the black nail polish further. 

"I like to have frequent sessions the first month. Then we'll have them weekly just like the others." You let her know and she nods her head as you write the date and time for her to show up on the card for three days from now. Standing up with her, "I offer a high fives, hand shakes, fist bumps, or a hug at the end of sessions. Which would you like?" You ask and she's thrown off a bit by the statement at first but then answers. 

"Hug. I could use a hug right now." You open up your arms and let her come to you. She ends up crying in your arms as you sooth her, letting her know it is okay to cry. 

"I'll always be here for you Wanda. I'm always on your side." You whisper to her and she holds you tighter at the words.

You sat back down at your desk after Wanda left, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you. Empathy for Wanda's pain, determination to help her heal, and a lingering sense of dread about what HYDRA had done to her. But you pushed those feelings aside, focusing on the task at hand.

As the Avengers' psychiatrist, it was your responsibility to help your teammates navigate the mental and emotional toll of their work. Sometimes that meant delving into painful memories or difficult emotions, but it was a role you took on willingly. After all, you had your own share of struggles, and if you could use your powers to help others, then it was worth it.

You glanced at the clock and realized it was almost time for lunch. You decided to take a break and head to the common area, where you found Tony tinkering with one of his suits.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted you with a grin. "How's it going?"

"Good," you replied, sinking into a nearby chair. "Just had a session with Wanda. She's been through a lot."

Tony nodded solemnly. "Yeah, losing her brother and all that HYDRA stuff... it's rough."

You sighed, running a hand through your Y/H/C hair. "Yeah, but she's strong. I think she'll come through it."

Tony gave you a reassuring smile before returning to his work, and you took a moment to appreciate the camaraderie of the team. Despite your differences and the challenges you guys faced, you were a family, bound together by our shared experiences and our commitment to protecting the world.

After a quick lunch, you headed back to your office to prepare for your next session. As you reviewed your notes from Wanda's session, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to her story, something hidden beneath the surface. But for now, all you could do was continue to offer her support and hope that she would find the strength to confront her demons and emerge stronger on the other side.

With that thought in mind, you square your shoulders and prepare to face whatever challenges lay ahead. As an Avenger, a psychiatrist, and a friend, you were ready to do whatever it took to help your teammates and protect the world from whatever threats may come our way.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Three days passed in a blur of meetings, training sessions, and the occasional emergency mission. But today, you were back in your office, eagerly awaiting Wanda's return for your second session. As you sat at your desk, reviewing your notes from your previous meeting, you couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy for her. Losing a loved one in battle was something you could relate to all too well.

Before you could dwell too much on your own past, there was a soft knock on your door, and Wanda stepped into the room. Her aura seemed a bit brighter today, though still tinged with sadness. "Hey, Wanda," you greeted her with a warm smile, motioning for her to take a seat. "How are you feeling today?"

Wanda hesitated for a moment before answering, "Better, I think. Thank you for... everything last time."

You nodded, understandingly. "Of course. It's what I'm here for." You gestured toward the notebook on the table. "Shall we pick up where we left off?"

For the next hour, the two of you delved deeper into Wanda's past, her memories of Sokovia, her time with HYDRA, and her experiences with her brother, Pietro. With each word she spoke, you could feel her emotions swirling around you, and you did your best to guide her through them, offering comfort and support where you could.

As your session came to a close, Wanda seemed visibly lighter, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, Y/N," she said softly, wiping away a stray tear. "I didn't realize how much I needed this."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of fulfillment wash over you. "Anytime, Wanda. Remember, I'm always here for you."

Before she left, Wanda surprises you by reaching out and giving you a tight hug. "Thank you," she repeated, her voice thick with emotion.

As you watched her leave your office, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to help someone in need, to make a difference in their life, even if it was just one session at a time. And as you glanced down at the Power Stone embedded in your chest, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps this was the true source of your ability to connect with others on such a deep level. But for now, all that mattered was that you were making a difference, one session at a time.

[fallen-w1ngs]

'' NEVER LEAVE ,,

|| pairings: hawks x reader / keigo takami x reader

|| warning: hurt/comfort [keigo does the comforting]

|| word count: 0.6k

Today's been hard, like really genuinely hard. No- scratch that, these past few WEEKS have been hard. Your classes have been going terribly, it feels as if you're failing every class.. And god forbid you're excited to see your friends for a few minutes. But turns out, they all went out to get drinks without you!

Tears burning at the corner of your eyes, saying your little mantra of 'Just make it back home, just make it back home, just make it back home.' Trying to push the bubbling overwhelming feeling of just an overflow of sadness crashing down on you as if a wave.

It was fine too, Keigo was gonna be on patrol, and by the time you were done sobbing your eyes out, he'd be back! And you could act as if nothing had happen.

The second you opened and shut the door behind you, you put your back against the wall and started crying. Not overly loud, nor dramatic, but you definitely weren't holding back sobs.

However, one, iiiiitty bitty tiny thing had thrown a wrench in your plan. Keigo, your ever loving boyfriend of the past few years, had decided to surprise you with a nice home cooked meal. He'd felt bad for being away so much! With how many missions his supreriors had given him, he felt bad for neglecting his lovely lover. The second he heard you open and shut the door, his heart leaped at the idea of having a romantic dinner at home.. But it soon fell as he heard you cry.

In a flash he was right in front of you, his soft hands on your shoulders as he stared at you in worry. His bushy brows furrowed as he tried to calm you.

"Baby?" He said quietly. "Baby, what's wrong, fuck- are you okay?? Are you hurt??"

You shook your head quickly as you palmed at your eyes, as if trying to force the tears back in. Oh, but Keigo's voice. With his sweet and hushed tone made you feel safe, much too safe. Enough to the fact you couldn't stop sobbing.

With a strong pull and a few flaps of his wings, Keigo flew you into the living room and kept you hugged on the couch. His wings engulfing your full presence.

For a few moments, you stayed like that. Keigo keeping you warm, making small circles at the small of your back as you cried wet patches into his shirt. Tugging and clawing at him, as if trying to keep him as close to you as possible. Scared that he'd disappear within moments.

Yet, he never did. He stayed, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

"You're okay, baby," He whispered. "It's okay. I'm right here.. I'm so proud of you, y'know? You're doing amazing, I love you so much. I-"

"You wouldn't leave me, right?" It was a quick and cut question, you barely stuttered as you uttered those words.

"What?"

".. You wouldn't leave me.. Right?"

Keigo pulled away from you and cupped your face in his hands, his brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at your eyes. His honey suckled ones bearing into yours..

"Why do you think- I would never-" He took a deep breath before restarting. His forehead resting against yours as he spoke quietly. "I'll never, in a million years, leave you. I love you too damn much to. You're my entire world, and you deserve everything. I'll never leave you, I never want to leave you. You're everything, my love."

Your winged boyfriend spoke with such conviction, every word said with the most emotion. It wasn't like the words he said on TV. The ones manufactured to be the perfect hero. But these were words of a boyfriend who loved you so fucking much. Someone who claimed to never leave..

And who never went back on his words.

|| mannnnn ive been so busy and tonight felt like eeextra shit, so ya'll are getting small comfort fic !! thumbs up

[stilljuststardust]

Wavered? No problem. Just revise.

I think a lot of people get stuck in a loop of trying something new -> give in to the 3D -> feel ashamed and restart entirely.

You don't have to start from scratch everytime you hit a road bump, in fact you shouldn't. Persistence doesn't mean doing everything perfect it means continuing ANYWAY.

You can manifest anything, including your own mindset. So, use revision to your advantage. Revise so that you never gave in to the 3D and you've always had your perfect mindset.

Let's say you woke up this morning and for some reason you're completely out of wack, affirming what you don't want, falling into the old story, repeating negative beliefs to yourself.

Then you spent the morning worrying over how to fix it and how to avoid it because it just keeps happening, unknowingly affirming to yourself that you're trapped in this cycle.

Ok, so what should you do instead? Revise. When you realize you've tripped up and stopped persisting revise mentally and affirm that it didn't happen.

Actually, you woke up with a perfect mindset this morning. Why would anything else have happened? That's silly. You know that you woke up and immediately affirmed. In fact you know that you woke up to your desire materialized.

[respectthepetty]

The Heart Killers' Colors? - Ep. 8

We are going into the final quarter of this show, and I'm sticking by my belief that Style is all flesh. He is vulnerability. He is exposure. He is openness. He is baby. And he is easily wearing down Fadel.

The first thing Style does when they get into the room is discard his top and proceed to suggest sex is an option in the midst of looking for Fadel's brother who is holding his best friend at gun point at any given moment.

But that is Style. He has no defenses, so he always says what is on his mind, like when he later tearfully confesses that he would be sad to leave his dad but happy to see his mom if Fadel killed him.

He has no shield to protect himself, but also no need to protect himself. Unlike Fadel, who has closed himself off to feeling and to the world, Style feels everything because he is always exposed in the world. Which is why despite himself, Fadel wants to feel . . . Style, love, hope.

And that's what helps Kant soften his Red Rascal because previously, Kant was guarded. He wore long-sleeves and pants. He kept his secrets. Yet here is he in a tank and shorts with a gun to his head.

While Style has been open and exposed this entire time, Kant is barely able to do so now due to the constant threat of death from his Red Rascal.

But I think that's also why Kant easily accepted the rudimentary nature of his captivity. In allowing himself to show Bison who he really is, Kant gets to go back to the basics, which also includes fishing for his own food while wearing Bison's red.

Bison, the man with a fiery temper, directs Kant to build the fire even though Bison has a lighter just because he wants to see if Kant will put in the effort to start from scratch.

But Bison quickly extinguishes Kant's enteral fire by throwing water on him after Kant gets a little too passionate about vocalizing his attraction to Bison.

Which is a stark contrast to Fadel giving Style water while Style is covered up in what I believe is Fadel's dark clothing.

Because Style has already stated that he would get back to the basics for Fadel to win his heart again. So after he pushes the car, he walks.

He feeds Fadel.

And he bares himself his heart, again.

Even though Fadel has reverted to hiding his smiles during the celebration of love,

Style doesn't allow Fadel to hide himself.

Style could've ran so many times, yet he constantly steps into Fadel's dark world like getting in the tub with Fadel.

And Kant, who could've ran too, does the same. He sits next to the water with Bison.

They've calmed down. They are exposed. So instead of beginning like this,

They've restarted.

Instead of living in a fantasy of lies,

They are facing the reality of each other.

So even though they still have some barriers to overcome, like the huge barrier between their "mother" and Keen,

Kant can now be his true self (and color?) around his Red Rascal.

And Black Brooder Fadel can see that Style is more than willing to stand in his darkness with him.

They're watered down versions of what they were when they first met because they feel safer around each other, so they're tamer.

They're open. They're exposed. They vulnerable.

They're Style.

[optimisticgardenhologram]

Mello gets a lot of shit about his chosen path of becoming a criminal and joining the Mafia to take Kira down. It actually makes a lot of sense though.

It's easy to say he should have taken the high road by legally working with the legitimate lawful authorities. But you have to remember Mello was offered and chose to leave behind all the power, influence and money that came with the position of being L's successor. As a consequence he had to restart out from nothing and rise up through the world from scratch. No matter how precocious, hard working and talented you are that's not really something that's possible for an outsider to accomplish in such a short time span in the straight world of government and business. However in the parallel underground world of organized crime these barriers aren't necessarily as rigid and entrenched - there is possibility for an unknown young upstart to prove their worth, rapidly make a place for themselves, and forge connections at the top of the organization. 

Also when you think about the state of the world by 2008 - with the general population terrorized, Kira able to topple governments with nothing but a name and face, and entire nations being cowed into submission - organized crime is probably one of the last-standing vestiges of coordinated resistance Kira. The mafia has is a built-in element of secrecy (and by this time most are no doubt using fake names) and at the most fundamental level are Kira's natural enemies. It is not only in the mafia's best interest as an organization, but it's necessary to their very survival to bring down Kira.  Their position in the world makes them natural allies in the fight against him. And what they bring to the table is power, money, resources and willingness to throw everything needed into the fight, to make gains against Kira and win. For them there's no going back, it's kill or be killed. And Mello was able to leverage his intelligence, skills and the stark reality of the situation to rally them to his cause and elicit their full trust, loyalty and support. 

It's unsavory to work to the benefit of mafioso scumbags and push forward their cause, but they were never more than means to an end for him.  Mello has always been willing to make high risk, high reward moves and above all do ANYTHING it takes to achieve his goals whether or not the path there would be considered the morally upright one. 

Near's lawfully-sanctioned SPK on the other hand was fully disavowed by their supporters, defunded and outlawed by the American government the moment its leadership changed and the new weak-willed President was cowed into submission in the face of Kira's threats. Ultimately they too had to become criminals to continue the fight. If Near didn't have access to L's wealth and resources, he'd have been forced to back down unable to fund his ventures and his employees.

You can say that Mello should have just sucked up his pride and worked with Near from the start. But that wouldn't be responsive to his character, and honestly -specifically at the start of the case- I don't think it would have been effective either. In the conventional law-abiding world Mello would never have been permitted to make the extreme maneuvers he did that ultimately cracked open the case by forcing Light against his will to hand over the Death Note itself and reveal the cards he's been hiding for over 5 years.

To be clear this isn't in any way a defense of organized crime and the reprehensible activities that the mafia (fictional or otherwise) is involved in, but just an examination of why it was in fact a calculated and strategically practical choice for Mello to ally with them in this situation.

[fishsticksloser]

Since we have sfw mating season turtle's, what about a nsfw one?

HEAR ME OUT-

(Feel free to ignore if your uncomfortable or your too busy to do it)

Mating Season Pt2

Future RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: smut ish, fluff, feral turtles, talk about rough sex, talk about biting/marking, wounds mentioned

A/N: I'm not gonna write small little drabbles, but I will go more in depth

Donnie

He still had precautions

But you insisted on helping him

Who was he to say no?

He went through everything his species does during mating season

He explains that you will have to be under water for an extended period of time

That he can bite and scratch

Donnie really really wants to make sure you're okay with everything that might happen

This is a huge step in your relationship

It doesn't matter how long you've been together, Donnie would never ask you to be with him during this time

You can tell it's starting because he gets more affectionate

Normally kissing your neck more

He talks about the way you smell

But when the time comes, you're there with him

He made sure there were things for you to do, things for your safety

Like oxygen for you when you're underwater

He made a really big nest for you

When you see it, he grins like a little kid

He made it for you after all

If you don't show that you like it, he'll tear it apart and restart

Donnie bites a lot

He does accidently scratch you a bit, but that was just because he was trying to hold on

He's also fiercely protective

He growls and snaps at literally anything

When he sleeps, he's wrapped around you, not allowing you to leave

You're his

When mating season is over Donnie is affectionate

He feels so bad for biting and scratching you

Being rougher than normal

He'll try to convince you not to join him again

Leo

Obviously there were still precautions

Can't have the boss going feral now can we?

Leo tried not to show when it's coming on, opting to remove you from the situation completely

But it doesn't work, he needs you too bad

Leo gets overly touchy

He taps your butt, your hips, your chest, your neck, your face

He whispers in your ears about how good you look, how you smell, how soft your skin is

The few nights before his rut actually starts, he's goes at it with everything he has

He mumbles about how pretty you are under/on top of him

But he keeps it passionate, not rough

When his rut actually starts it's a different story

He's loud

Moaning, whimpering, and... yes, talking

Leo is rough, but tries to make it pleasurable for you too

He's still a talker even when not in the middle of coitus

The tapping becomes a bit harder, more consistent

Mostly tapping your face, hips, and butt

He still whispers in your ears, but its more about what he wants to do to you, how pretty you look while he takes you

Leo bites a little, he still has some control of himself

If he feels like he's going to bite, he'll find something else to bite

The nest he builds is relatively small, but so comfy since he's allowed to have pillows and bulky blankets

When it's over, you better believe this man is worshipping your body

He'll cover any bite or scratch in kisses, making sure you feel loved beyond measure

Mikey

Since he's gotten older, it's gotten a bit worse

He's still pretty normal, but he can get territorial

Someone touches you (even by accident) or is talking to you?

You might wanna take him back to your room

He gets hot, literally since his ninpo is fire based

Mikey acts pretty normal until something happens to you (like stated above)

It's best if people stay away from you, especially his brothers

Leo has had a scar on his right arm (cause that's his prosthetic now) from Mikey attacking him after he helped you with something

Why specifically his brothers?

Because they're turtles too and they're too much like him so what if they try to steal you

That's Donnie's theory at least

The nest he builds is comfy and warm

He really likes having you in it all the time so it stays warm

He'll crawl in and snuggle with you, letting our tiny chuffs

He's not a biter at all during rut

Mikey does scratch a little, but its more when he's trying to hold on

He still has a lot of control, so he tends to be very loving and passionate

But on his bad days, he's slightly worse than Leo

He defiantly still talks, overall he's almost completely normal except for the territorial and protective aspect

Afterwards, he almost cries

No... He does cry over what he's done to you

He really needs reassurance that you're okay

Mikey will give you lots of cuddles and kisses a little while after they heal

Raph

He gets a bit like this

He also gets worse as he grows

Whereas when he was younger, he was pretty chill

Raph gets more territorial

People steer clear of both of you because of how big and scary Raph is

He tends to become a bit mindless, focusing on only you

He sniffs and nuzzles you, chuffing loudly

If anyone so much as looks at you, he growls and pulls you into him

His next is huge to fit his large body

When you see it, he pulls you into the nest, wanting to make sure you like it

It's not as bulky and soft as Leo or Mikey's but not as thin as Donnie's

He is a chaser, he will run after you

It's part of his species mating rituals

Though he does go slower than necessary due to how fast he is

Raph is a biter

The first few times, he bit you hard leaving a scar

Now he tries to get old tires, something else so he doesn't hurt you

He also scratches, trying to keep you close

When it's over, Raph will cry and apologize while he takes care of your wounds

He feels so bad

Like Donnie, he will also try to convince you not to join him again

[starrystevie]

18+ | modern office steddie au | cw: public sex, undernegotiated kinks, unsafe sex | crossposted to ao3 here

eddie doesn't do it often. okay, maybe that's a stretch. frequently might be a better word for it, more accurate. but he wouldn't say he does it everyday or anything. it's just a little break from the day, an escape from the monotony of corporate america.

he's only been in this new tech support job for a few months but he's already comfortable enough that working on his next novel at his desk doesn't give him anxiety anymore. he isn't afraid someone is looking over his shoulder all the time like he did when he first started with the company.

the thing is, eddie's good at tech. he's good at finding the problems, finding even better solutions. half the time all he's doing is updating and restarting people's equipment that hasn't been refreshed in years. so he finds himself with enough free time at his desk to work on the second installment of his fantasy novel when the problems seem to be at a low.

as he waits for his laptop to boot up, eddie cracks his knuckles and grabs his phone to send a text to his editor that may or may not also happen to be his best friend so he could cut back on over exuberant editing fees. he doesn't read the message over, just fires out a text to nancy quickly before pocketing his phone.

he only realizes the typo once he gets a laughing emoji in return and cackles at what he actually sent.

"getting ready to write some smut on the cock!!!!!"

it doesn't take long to send a winky face before correcting himself to say " on the clock obviously", before pocketing his phone and opening the document where his novel is. just as eddie is about to start typing, a voice behind him makes him jump out of his skin.

"what was so funny?" steve asks, arm propped on the top of his flimsy cubicle wall, legs crossed over one another, smirk on his face.

eddie forces himself not to swoon. he takes in the way his white button up stretches across his chest, dress pants oh so snug over his thighs, hair pushed back in the way that only steve harrington could pull off. he may have only been at the office for a few months, but ever since he first saw him, steve very quickly became the only thing eddie could think about.

"i'm sure you wouldn't find it funny," he starts, tilting his laptop screen halfway shut so steve can't catch him doing his other job, his favorite job, while at work.

steve smirks again, his cheek lifting enough to crinkle his eye. "try me, munson."

with a dramatic push, eddie rolls in his wheely chair and stands up so he can keep his voice low. "i sent my editor a dirty text on accident."

if steve's surprised, he doesn't show it.

"editor, hmm? for what?" his voice is as low as eddie's and it makes the cubicle feel even smaller than it is. like everything in the world has zeroed in on their whispers to each other.

"i might be writing a book. well, technically i've already written a book. this is just the sequel."

steve's eyes flick from eddie to his laptop and then back once more. "is it anything i'd know?"

he cackles again, picturing steve reading his smutty fantasy novel, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to make any sense out of the haphazard world map eddie drew for the back page. but then again, he could easily picture steve in the world he made. he'd be a prince- no, scratch that, an elven prince- just like the one he's writing about in this one.

"i do read, you know. i'm not entirely up to date with everything but i do like books." steve says it like he's almost hurt and it makes eddie look back up at him, mellowing out his wide grin into a softer smile.

"oh, i wasn't doubting that. i just doubt you read elf porn in your free time."

whatever hurt was lacing through steve's face is gone, replaced with wide eyes and eyebrows to his hairline and a bright smile pulling at his cheeks.

"yeah," he says a little breathless, "yeah, definitely not the first thing i'd reach for."

eddie gives him a told-you-so head nod and brings a hand up to run through his hair, tracking steve's eyes as he follows the motion for a moment. having his eyes on him rushes through eddie like a wave crashing and he's halfway tempted to do it again if he didn't think it would look forced.

"well you probably don't know mine then."

as he turns to go back to his chair, he hears steve cough to get his attention back, arms crossed over his chest to make his shirt pull taut over his beautiful, gorgeous, annoyingly perfect biceps. "so what was the dirty text?"

"well, it was actually a typo," eddie starts, cocking his head to the side with a smirk as he pulls out his phone, "so an unintentional dirty text. but still funny, none the less. and i don't think i can say it out loud without getting hr called on my ass so-"

he holds up his phone so steve can see the brief conversation between him and nancy, watches his eyebrows shoot back up to his hairline, watches as his mouth drops open for a millisecond before giving eddie another goddamn smirk. steve leans back, drops his arms to put a hand on his hip, and looks eddie less than subtly up and down.

"so... do you want to?"

eddie can feel the moment his heart stutters in his chest. a combination of steve's general... steveness plus the implication of what the text said and his mind travels to a dirty, dirty, not meant for work place until he pieces it somewhat together and asks-

"...are you asking if i'm gay?"

steve huffs out a laugh and takes a step further into eddie's cubicle. there already isn't much room and with him coming in the tiniest bit closer, their toes are almost touching.

"sure," he says like it's the easiest thing to say on a thursday afternoon. "it can be a two-part question if you want."

a few things run through eddie's head all at the same time:

steve's close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off of the arm he now has resting on his desk, and he's really about to come out to a coworker which he normally leaves for at least 6 months into a new job, and that he thinks he's going to pass out if steve is actually asking what he thinks he's asking.

do you want to write smut while you're on my cock?

he doesn't know where he finds the courage, honestly. call it a slow thursday, call it a little extra motivation for his novel. eddie scoots closer and throws caution to the wind.

"then yes to both."

he's never seen steve's office. he's been to the top floors before when some higher up needed him to install a web browser on his new desktop so he has kind of an idea of what the private offices look like.

eddie didn't expect the first time that he got to see steve's office would be spread out, bent over his desk with his novel pulled up on his laptop while steve runs his hands over his ass.

"here's how this is going to work," steve whispers close to his ear while he lays against his back, snaking a hand up to undo the knot of eddie's messy tie, popping open a button on his dress shirt in the process. "you stop writing, i stop fucking you."

with a hum, eddie presses his hips back, up on his tiptoes with his off brand dress shoes pinching his feet tightly. "i think i can manage that."

"i'm not finished," he bites gently at eddie's ear lobe, returning his hands to palm over his ass cheeks. "everything i do to you, and i mean everything, needs to be written down. turn me into a character or something, i don't care, but i expect you to be thorough."

he doesn't mean to moan at the instructions, really he doesn't, but it's so easy to picture steve morphing into a character in his world. his mind races trying to figure out how exactly to write him into the scene that had already started, but with a snap of his fingers as the idea clicks, he writes out a quick line and looks at steve over his shoulder for approval.

"who's sylvar?" steve asks, pronunciation clunky on his tongue.

"sylvar is an elven prince, might as well make you him. besides, you both have an s name."

steve chuckles, his breath ruffling eddie's hair. "okay, fair. prince, huh?"

he doesn't have to look over his shoulder again to know that steve's smirking so he rolls his eyes and finishes the sentence, only breaking away to gasp as steve brings his hand between his thighs to spread them further apart.

"i'm gonna take a wild guess and say that elidyr is supposed to be you?"

eddie nods and pulls his tie off the rest of the way. "let's see, he's one of the prince's newest attendants, known for being a bit out of control, gets chastised for staring at the prince's ass in his khakis too much-"

"you're making that one up, huh?"

he tosses his tie to the side and brings a hand up to tangle in steve's hair, pulling his lips down to his neck and waiting for him to get the hint and start kissing. "steve, i'm making all of it up. that's the way writing a book goes."

"is that so?" he murmurs playfully against his neck, teeth pressing against the skin as he smiles, hands yanking on his hips to get eddie flush against his cock. "...i don't see you writing."

eddie huffs and shakes his head before writing out quickly how sylvar grabbed elidyr by the hips roughly to show him how excited he was. steve takes the typing as the go ahead and quickly undoes both of their pants before running his hands up eddie's now bare thighs.

he didn't really have any idea of how well he'd be able to hold out to steve's ministrations while having to write them out at the same time, but any confidence he had in himself leaves when steve's palm cups his cock through his briefs. eddie cants his hips forward and brings his hand back up to tangle once more in steve's hair.

and just like that, the touch is gone.

"oh, come on!" eddie whines and brings his hands back to the keyboard, typing in random filler words until suddenly he has no underwear and hands pulling his ass cheeks apart.

"gonna fucking take you apart... shit," steve whispers and eddie doesn't think he was supposed to hear it, but he writes it into the scene anyway.

there's a cool dribble of what must be lube on his hole and he fights against the shiver it sends up his spine. "you have lube in your office?"

"no, i have lube in my briefcase. big difference."

eddie doesn't really see how to the two are different, but he laughs to appease steve before getting cut short as a finger starts to enter him. he must whine, must jerk or do something wrong because it's leaving almost as soon as it had arrived.

"steve, i swear to god," eddie groans, head dropping down as he types without looking. poor nancy is going to have a hell of time reading and editing over this draft.

they both sigh when the finger presses into him once more and steve weaves his other hand into eddie's hair to pull him up and look at his screen. "there you go, just keep typing. write about how good it feels."

and shit. that's hotter than he expected it to be.

it goes well for all of a few minutes, eddie typing and steve reading over his shoulder, scissoring his fingers to get him nice and wet and open. they both somehow manage to keep their composure, filthy words being muttered out loud that then end up on the screen.

it's after steve gets him cock in him that it all goes down hill.

"oh fuck-" eddie moans as his leg gets hoisted up for a better angle. steve's grip on his hip is brutal, bound to be leaving bruises, as he pulls eddie back to meet him in the middle.

his chest is rubbing against the pleather desk cover, nipples catching on just the right side of painful when steve pushes his shirt up and out of the way. his dick is flopping against his thigh with every thrust, the lack of friction driving him insane.

he swears he only takes his hands away from the laptop for a second but then steve's pulling out quickly, dropping his leg and getting eddie off balance. he whines like he's throwing a temper tantrum before bringing his fingers back up to type more nonsense, gasping when steve slides back in like no time has passed.

"read it," he huffs next to his ear, "tell me how perfect you make fucking me sound."

"oh my god," eddie croaks, eyes rolling back as steve lets go of his hip once more to pull his head upright. "sylvar fucks wi-without abandon, hitting every right spot possible inside elidyr, the heat of his h-heavy cock punishing him making him mad with lust."

"good, yeah that's good. like when i fuck you hard?" steve grunts out before pistoning his hips even faster, eddie's moans bouncing off the bare office walls. "tell me more, keep going baby."

"the grip he uses to hold onto elidyr's hair is the only thing keeping him upright. this is all he could want, tending to the prince's every desire, being whatever the prince wants him to be." eddie expects it when the fingers in his hair curl even tighter, his back bowing against the desk with the pressure, but he still keens loudly at the pull.

steve chuckles roughly, like he's barely holding on himself, hips stuttering before evening out. "is that what you want?"

"wha-" eddie murmurs, not trusting his voice much more than that, his brain turning into mush. "is what what i want?"

"want to tend to my desires, want to be for me to use however i please?"

and the thing is, realistically, eddie knows this whole thing is weird, blending his two worlds together in a way he's never done before, but it doesn't stop him from forgoing the rules and bringing a hand down to work over his cock. "god, don't stop. please, please, please..."

steve must be tired of the game, too, because he doesn't even attempt to quit what they're doing to punish eddie as he stops writing. he barely has time to appreciate that the game is finally over because the hand in his hair slides around to rest gently around eddie's throat, pulling him up so his back is to steve's chest, every thrust punching out another gasping breath.

"answer the question," he says, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips. "gonna let me use you how i want?"

eddie has died and gone to heaven and the cause of death is a mixture of steve's tongue, hands, and cock. his mind wanders to what else they could do together, what else he'd let steve do, what else he wants steve to do. he sends up a quick thank you to whoever is listening that he saw the job posting for this company so he could be here in this moment with a possible sex god in his midst.

the hand that he had braced on the desk for support makes its way up to cover steve's on his throat, a barely there pressure combined with his quick fingers on his cock that sends him over the edge.

he breathes out a "yes" as he shoots come across the stop of steve's desk and see stars dancing in his eyes. steve fucks him through it, whispers filth of what he wants to do to eddie right into his ear, and when he comes back to himself, he digs his nails in the top of steve's hand.

"want it, want you, however you want me-" he chokes out.

and when steve finally comes inside of him, eddie makes sure he bends back down with his cock still pounding into him to write some line about how nice elidyr thinks it feels to filled up from someone who probably shouldn't be giving him the time of day. he tries not to find parallels as steve kisses up the back of his neck as he rocks his hips for the final time.

eddie's bare ass is in a mixture of their come as they maneuver him around to let him sit up and wrap his legs around steve's hips, pulling their spent cocks together while they lazily make out. steve's hands dance softly over his bare thighs, eddie threads his fingers through steve's hair.

"how does it end?" steve whispers against his lips.

"i don't know yet," eddie says truthfully, his mind wandering as kisses start to trail down his jawline. "how do you want it to end?"

"i don't suppose they have bars in this elf world, do they? one where they can go on an actual date to before going back to the palace or whatever to ravage each other?"

eddie grins, tipping his head back to catch steve's lips one more time in a slow kiss. "i can arrange for them to go to the tavern. i think they'd both like that."

the next morning, slightly hungover and draped over each other in steve's way too large bed, eddie ignores a text from nancy asking why the names change halfway through the draft and wondering who the fuck steve is. eddie silences his phone and goes back to sleep, so glad that he didn't double check his first message yesterday for typos.

[persophine]

HOW THEY REACT WHEN THEY FALL INLOVE AT FIRST SIGHT WITH YOU | PART 2 |- WINDBREAKER

Feat:(SABBATH CREW) WOOIN YOO,VINNY HONG,HYUK KWON,JOKER,(MALE READER)

[🥀]WARNING:SLIGHT YANDERE,BLACKMAILING?,VIOLENCE?,(MALE READER)

[🦋]WORDCOUNT:

🍁NOTES:I'm gonna lost it. I type this part and I was almost finishing it. Then my phone just decided to restart,I save it to draft but it didn't help! I need to re-type everything from scratch. Now, I'm pissed. 2000+ words just deleted like that. Anyway, I just wanna say thank you for supporting me, if your asking I still don't have any links on the masterlist. I don't even know how to do it, I'll figure it out soon.. I hope so. I love my 5 followers by the way, shoutout to you guys.

_______________________________

•WOOIN YOO

The moment Wooin Yoo laid eyes on him, something inside him twisted and coiled like a snake, constricting his chest with an unfamiliar intensity. The bar was loud, dimly lit with the heavy haze of smoke and neon glows bouncing off liquor bottles, yet everything else dulled the second he saw the boy step inside.

Pale skin, almost porcelain under the club lights, white hair soft and tousled, and eyes—those eyes—a brilliant shade of cerulean, like the reflection of moonlight on still water. Wooin could hardly breathe. It was ridiculous, irrational, but his entire being screamed for that boy, demanded him, wanted to carve his presence into his very core so he could never forget him.

Wooin had seen countless people walk into this bar, their faces blending into a mindless blur of temporary entertainment, easy money, and fleeting amusement. But this boy—this stranger—was something else entirely.

He found himself watching closely as the boy hesitated near the entrance, glancing around as if searching for something—or someone. Wooin leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his lips curling into a slow smirk as he tilted his head to the side.

“Who are you, little star?” he murmured under his breath.

(Name).

The name reached his ears when one of the bartenders, noticing the boy’s uncertainty, asked if he needed help. Wooin’s fingers twitched. (Name). What a sweet name. It rolled off the tongue nicely, didn’t it?

The thought of anyone else calling that name made something ugly and possessive stir within him.

(Name) took a seat at the bar, seemingly unaware of the attention he was drawing. He was breathtaking, but not in a way that demanded attention—no, it was the quiet, natural kind, the type that made Wooin’s stomach curl with need. The kind that made him want to sink his fingers into that delicate throat just to feel the way it tensed beneath his touch. The kind that made him want to hear (name's) voice tremble as he whispered his name.

Patience, he reminded himself, but his mind was already spinning with a thousand thoughts, a thousand possibilities. It was rare for Wooin to feel this level of fixation so quickly, but the moment he realized it, he welcomed it.

How unfortunate for (name).

Wooin moved casually, fluidly, slipping through the crowd until he was leaning against the bar beside him. The scent of something sweet and floral teased his nose. He inhaled deeply, committing it to memory.

“You’re new here.”

(Name) turned, his gaze meeting Wooin’s.

A sharp, breathless feeling shot through him.

Fuck.

Wooin had never wanted something so badly in his life.

(Name) blinked, his expression unreadable, but polite. “I am. Just arrived in Korea a few days ago.”

His voice was soft, gentle—a stark contrast to the chaos around them. Wooin nearly shivered at the sound, his fingers itching to grasp (name's) chin, to tilt his head back and see if his lips were as soft as they looked.

“Welcome, then.” Wooin smiled, slow and lazy, resting his elbow on the counter. “I’m Wooin.”

(Name) returned the smile, oblivious to the way Wooin’s pupils dilated. “Nice to meet you.”

Polite. Naïve.

How adorable.

(Name) turned his attention back to his drink, seemingly uninterested in conversation, but Wooin didn’t mind. In fact, he found it thrilling. A challenge.

Oh, (name). You don’t understand, do you?

You’ve already been caught.

For the rest of the night, Wooin didn’t stray far, watching, studying, memorizing every little movement, every little habit. The way (name's) fingers traced the rim of his glass absentmindedly, the way his eyes softened when he laughed quietly at something the bartender said. The way his throat moved as he swallowed.

(Name) didn’t belong here. Not in this world, not in this bar, not surrounded by filth and people who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as him.

But I do, Wooin thought with certainty.

And I’ll make sure you see it soon enough.

As the night wore on, Wooin made his move. He brushed his fingers lightly against (name's) wrist as he leaned in closer. (name) tensed, startled by the sudden touch, but he didn’t pull away fast enough.

“Careful,” Wooin murmured, his voice barely audible over the music. “This place isn’t safe for someone like you.”

(Name) gave him a cautious glance, shifting slightly in his seat. “I can take care of myself.”

Wooin chuckled, but his eyes remained sharp, predatory. “I’m sure you can. But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone looking out for you, would it?”

(Name's) expression flickered with something—hesitation? Curiosity? Whatever it was, Wooin latched onto it like a starving man.

That’s right. Look at me. See me.

“I should go,” (name) said after a pause, standing up.

Wooin tilted his head, smiling, though something dark flickered behind his eyes. “Leaving so soon?”

(Name) nodded. “I have an early morning tomorrow.”

Wooin watched him, every fiber of his being resisting the urge to grab his wrist, to keep him here, to not let him disappear into the night where Wooin couldn’t see him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he let (name) walk away, his fingers curling against the bar as he exhaled slowly, fighting the gnawing hunger inside him.

For now.

He didn’t need to rush. He didn’t need to scare his little star away so soon.

After all, he already knew (name's) name. He knew his face, his voice, his scent.

And now, all he had to do was follow.

________________________________________

•VINNY HONG

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and cheap air freshener—sterile, cold, and suffocating. Vinny hated it here. Hated the too-white walls, the sickly yellow glow of the overhead lights, and the way the place always felt like it was swallowing him whole.

But his mother was here. And he would endure anything for her.

With his hands stuffed in his pockets, he walked down the hallway, his expression as unreadable as ever. The familiar burning sensation in his chest—guilt, anger, helplessness—simmered beneath his skin, but he shoved it down, like always.

Then he saw him.

And everything stopped.

Sitting near the large window, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, was the most breathtaking person Vinny had ever seen. A young man, delicate yet otherworldly, dressed in a sleeveless silk shirt that draped over his elegant frame. His short white hair glowed under the sunlight, framing a face so impossibly perfect that it almost made Vinny’s stomach twist. His cerulean eyes—bright, deep, hypnotic—stared out the window, reflecting the dying light like gemstones.

Vinny stopped breathing.

Something inside him snapped.

He didn’t even understand what it was, only that it was violent. Uncontrollable.Like a spark hitting gasoline. His heartbeat slammed against his ribs, fast and erratic, his fingers twitching, his throat tightening.

Why… why did he feel like this?

This person—this fragile, beautiful thing—was just sitting there, unaware of the wildfire raging inside Vinny’s head. And that realization enraged him.

He wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

Not for anyone.

His heart had been locked away for years, frozen over by the cruelty of the world. But now—just one look—and he felt raw, exposed, like every wall he had built around himself had been shattered in an instant.

It was terrifying.

And exhilarating.

His breathing became shallow as he stared. Stared like a starving beast who had just found its prey.

Who are you?

His mind whispered, demanded, obsessed.

The world faded. The sounds of the hospital, the distant beeping of machines, the faint voices of nurses—it all disappeared.

There was only him.

Then—as if sensing the weight of his gaze—the young man turned his head.

Vinny stiffened.

And those jewel-like eyes met his.

For a single, electrified moment, they just stared at each other.

Then—he smiled.

Soft. Gentle. Ethereal.

A smile meant for no one in particular.

Vinny felt sick.

Sick with something overwhelming, something twisted. It started in his chest and slithered through his veins, hot and suffocating. His fingers itched. Itched to grab, to take, to steal.

How dare he?

How dare he sit there, looking like that? How dare he smile—so sweetly, so freely—when Vinny’s entire world was burning down around him?

His jaw clenched. His nails dug into his palms. He wanted to break that tranquility.

He wanted to see his smile, his gaze, his everything—only for him.

Not for the world. Not for anyone else.

A predator’s hunger coiled inside him, deep and insatiable.

And then—he spoke.

“Are you lost?”

The voice was soft, concerned, warm.

Vinny’s pupils dilated.

His body screamed at him to move—to close the distance, to claim, to own.

But he forced himself to stay still.

Instead, he exhaled slowly.

Swallowed down the madness clawing at his throat.

His face twisted into a scowl.

“...Tch. No.” His voice came out rough, strained—like a leash barely holding back a rabid dog.

The young man tilted his head slightly, his eyes still locked onto Vinny’s—studying him, reading him.

Vinny gritted his teeth. He didn’t like that.

Didn’t like the way this person—this delicate, beautiful creature—could see him so easily.

Didn’t like the way it made him feel so exposed.

But more than that—

He didn’t like that he was still so damn far away.

This wasn’t enough. Just looking wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

A dangerous thought slithered into his mind, curling around his sanity like a snake.

I want him.

I need him.

A fleeting moment wasn’t enough. A brief exchange of words wasn’t enough.

He wanted to be in his space, in his life, in his every waking thought.

I’ll make him mine.

It wasn’t even a question.

Not a possibility.

Not a desire.

A promise.

And Vinny Hong never broke his promises.

_______________________________________

•HYUK KWON

The hum of the convenience store’s refrigerators filled the quiet air as Hyuk Kwon stepped inside, muscles aching from the adrenaline-fueled chaos of League of Streets. His bucket hat sat low on his head, casting a shadow over his slitted brow. The black mask covering half his face concealed the faint smirk tugging at his lips. Another victory for Sabbath. Another crew humiliated under his wheels.

But right now, none of that mattered.

Right now, all he wanted was banana milk.

His dark eyes swept across the aisles, easily locating the refrigerated section. His pace was unhurried, almost lazy, but his mind was sharp—focused. He slid his hands into his pockets, shoulders relaxed, posture casual.

And then he saw it.

The last banana milk.

Reaching for it without hesitation, he was only inches away from grabbing the prize when another hand brushed against his own.

His fingers froze mid-air.

The world around him dulled, the chatter from the cashier counter turning into white noise. His gaze lifted, slow, deliberate, taking in the sight of the person standing beside him.

They had short, silky white hair that shimmered under the fluorescent lights, their soft cerulean eyes framed by long, delicate lashes. A beauty mark rested below their left eye, accentuating their otherworldly features. Their lips, naturally pink, parted slightly in mild surprise as they turned to look at him. The air around them was gentle—almost ethereal, like something untouchable.

Hyuk Kwon, a man known for his cold brutality on the track, suddenly found his grip on reality slipping.

His chest felt tight, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs in a way that was foreign to him. Unfamiliar. Unpredictable.

This was dangerous.

“…Oh,” he muttered, barely registering his own voice.

The stranger tilted their head slightly, looking at him with a curious yet soft expression. “Do you want this?” they asked, holding up the banana milk. Their voice was sweet—too sweet.

Hyuk clenched his fists. No. Keep it. That was what he should have said. That was what he wanted to say.

But the words refused to leave his throat.

He swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the way their fingers curled around the bottle. Delicate. Small. Vulnerable. His eyes flickered toward their exposed wrist—pale skin, fragile veins barely visible beneath the surface.

A strange thought slithered into his mind. How easy would it be to hold them still? To keep them right here, where they couldn’t walk away from him?

Something dark curled in his stomach, possessive and suffocating.

(Name) smiled—gentle, unassuming. They were waiting for his answer, completely oblivious to the storm unraveling inside him.

Hyuk exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing his muscles to relax. He needed to play this carefully. He couldn’t scare them away. Not yet.

“…No,” he finally said, his voice lower than usual. “You take it.”

(Name) blinked before offering him another soft smile. “Thank you.”

Hyuk said nothing. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

They turned away, heading toward the cashier, completely unaware of the weight of his gaze burning into their back.

His fingers twitched at his sides. His breath came slower now, measured, as if trying to restrain something buried deep within him.

This feeling—it was overwhelming. Obsessive. All-consuming.

And he liked it.

The door jingled softly as (name) stepped outside, disappearing into the night.

Hyuk stood motionless for a long moment, his mind racing.

Would he ever see them again?

No. That wasn’t an option.

His feet moved before he could even think. He walked toward the cashier, slipping his phone from his pocket. His voice was calm, casual, when he asked, “Do you have security cameras here?”

The cashier, a bored teenager barely paying attention, blinked up at him. “Uh… yeah?”

Hyuk hummed, tapping his fingers against the counter. “Good.” His voice dropped slightly, just enough to send a shiver down the cashier’s spine. “I need the footage from the last five minutes.”

The teen hesitated. “Uh… I don’t think I can—”

Hyuk reached into his jacket and pulled out a few folded bills, sliding them across the counter. His dark eyes locked onto the cashier’s, unwavering. “You can.”

A nervous gulp. A moment of hesitation. Then, the teen sighed and grabbed the money.

Hyuk didn’t smile, but something in his eyes gleamed.

As he watched the cashier pull up the security footage, he thought about the soft way (name) had smiled at him. About the way their fingers had so effortlessly stolen his banana milk.

He thought about how unfair it was.

How cruel it was to meet someone so perfect—so his—only to have them slip away like they were nothing more than a fleeting moment in time.

Hyuk Kwon didn’t believe in coincidences.

Fate had placed them before him.

And now, he wasn’t going to let them go.

Not ever.

______________________________________

•JOKER

Joker walked alone through the dimly lit streets, the hum of distant traffic barely reaching his ears. The night still clung to him—his body thrummed with lingering adrenaline from the race, his legs sore but steady. He should’ve gone straight home, but something pulled him toward a familiar alleyway.

Then he heard it.

A muffled noise, followed by a sharp intake of breath. A voice—soft yet defiant—trapped in the narrow passage between two buildings.

Joker stopped, his pale blue eyes narrowing. Shadows flickered against the grimy walls. Three men surrounded someone, their body language predatory, filled with twisted amusement. But what caught Joker’s attention wasn’t the violence. It was the figure standing in the middle of it all.

White hair, cascading like silk under the dim glow of the streetlight. A delicate frame, dressed in something that seemed too soft, too pure for a place like this. And then there were the eyes—cerulean, glimmering like fractured gemstones in the dark.

Something in Joker’s chest twisted, coiled, snapped.

He didn’t know what it was. He just knew he didn’t like seeing them being touched.

One of the men grabbed the stranger’s wrist, yanking them forward. "Come on, don’t be so difficult—"

Joker was already moving.

The first punch shattered the quiet. It landed hard—bone against bone—sending the guy sprawling to the pavement. The second one barely had time to react before Joker’s boot connected with his ribs, a sickening crunch following as he crumpled.

The third man panicked, reaching for a blade. Joker caught his wrist mid-swing, twisting it until the knife clattered to the ground. He slammed the guy against the brick wall, his grip tightening.

"Who gave you permission," Joker whispered, his voice low, dangerous, "to touch them?"

The guy whimpered, struggling against Joker’s hold. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Joker tightened his grip further, watching as his face turned pale.

Then he let go.

The man collapsed, gasping. Joker didn’t bother looking at him again. They weren’t important. None of them were.

He turned his attention to the one that mattered.

(Name) stood still, watching him. Not afraid. Not trembling. Just observing, like they were trying to figure him out. That smile—it was small, barely there, but it did something to Joker’s chest.

Joker tilted his head, wiping blood off his knuckles. "You alright?"

(Name) took a step forward, their white hair catching the faint glow of the streetlamp. They reached out—not hesitantly, not cautiously—but softly. Their fingers brushed against the scrape on Joker’s hand.

"You’re hurt," (name) murmured.

Joker froze.

No one touched him like that. Not with concern. Not with kindness.

He didn’t breathe as (name) lifted his hand, pressing their own palm against his knuckles. Their skin was warm. Too warm. It seeped into him, crawled under his skin, burned him in a way that had nothing to do with fire and everything to do with something terrifyingly new.

Joker swallowed, his throat dry. His mind screamed at him to step back, to say something, to do anything but stand there like a fool. But his body refused to listen.

"You shouldn’t walk alone at night," Joker muttered. His voice came out rougher than he intended.

(Name) tilted their head, amusement flickering in their cerulean gaze. "And yet, here you are."

Joker’s jaw clenched. They were teasing him.

His hand twitched—the one still held by (name's) gentle grip. A sudden thought slithered into his mind, dark and possessive.

He didn’t want to let go.

Joker had never cared about people. Not really. He fought, he raced, he followed Wooin’s schemes without much thought. He lived in chaos and thrived in the blood-soaked underground. But this?

This was dangerous.

Because for the first time, he wanted something. No, not something. Someone.

(Name).

A slow smile curled across Joker’s lips. It was barely there, just a twitch of amusement—but his pale eyes held something darker.

"You’re lucky," he murmured.

(Name) blinked. "Lucky?"

Joker leaned in, just enough to catch the faintest hint of their scent—soft, something floral, something clean. He could feel the warmth radiating from them, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "That I found you first."

Because if anyone else had, he wouldn’t have let them live.

His grip on their wrist tightened, just slightly. He’d already decided.

(Name) was his.

They just didn’t know it yet.

_____________________________

[🦋]NOTES:AND CUT!that's all for this week, happy Sunday (on my country it is) everyone!I still need to do my research paper, and need to update a chapter on wattpad. So, yeah.it's 10:30PM but the grind won't stop. Thank you again for supporting me.so who's your favorite crew member of SABBATH?

Next??

[torchstelechos]

sometimes i think about the scene where Siffrin has a momentary breakdown over the Universe watching and clapping and not doing anything to help, to lead, and i wonder about an interpretation where the Universe is helping, is leading, is telling them what to do. where the Universe is favoring one of the two people from the Country like the King calls out. its us, the Player, the ones that 'create' their universe in a sense by installing and playing the game and leading Siffrin around through it

i wonder if it'd make it better or worse for him in that moment if they could look through that glass window to the stars above and see a glimpse of how helpless we, the Universe, were in that moment too, trying to guide him and failing just as much as everyone else

do you get me. does this make any sense.

Okay Bell, you do not fucking get how much this means to me. I have been on the theory of “the universe is actually the players” since I started wandering about this fandom. I do think ALL the players are part of the universe, but are not the universe as a whole. Like, one player is one star and yes, they are part of the overall universe, but there are more stars to see in the same universe so they aren't the universe specifically. My reasoning for this is actually part of how I see Loop’s wish, and thus I get to discuss how I think wishcraft works alongside Loop’s wish and how it affected the timeline. >:3c 

First, I will be using a general assumption of 1.) The looping only affected Vaugarde like The King’s “curse” 2.) There is only one Timeline and 3.) The theory Path of Least resistance (will be explained in conjunction with wishcraft).

As I have mentioned in a previous post I do think that Siffrin’s wish piggybacked off the King’s wish and used it as a blueprint for how far the Timecraft went, which meant that it only turned back the time of Vaugarde. The King says, when asked about wishcraft: 

He says that the country is skipping, stopping, rewinding, restarting, and how that must look from the outside. Which! I would like to point out that the king is NOT a reliable source of information because the King will lie to get you to lower your guard, however! It’s corroborated by the change god, even if they don't implicitly state it, during the Who’s on the Phone event they say: 

“Dormont, repeating! Dormont, Unchanging! Stagnating!” + “In this bubble, where everything stays the exact same…” The Change god also acknowledges that the extent of Timecraft is smaller than the whole world and specifies Dormont, which is the last place affected by the Time Curse (and thus the last place to change in all of Vaugarde). I would take this to mean that the whole world is still going on while Vaugarde is, well, glitching like a DVD with scratches. 

Next, which I think a lot of people tend to skip over, is that there is only one timeline! This is confirmed by Insertdisc5 (Adrienne), on Tumblr on their ISAT spoiler Q&A: 

Which has such interesting implications, but it does help explain something that I want to connect with the third assumption!

Now! The path of least resistance theory! Craft is an energy based magic, which uses the users energy unless powered by an outside force (however it appears to still take energy to direct the craft). This means that it has rules and if I had to guess, is very similar to electricity. Electricity doesn’t actually only go down one path when we apply this theory, instead it has an inverse in output depending on the resistance of the path. So if one path has less resistance then it will have more energy go down that path with more output, if the other has more resistance than that path will have less output/energy. We can apply this to wishcraft and how it affected the outcome of the two wishes that directly went against each other, the Kings and Siffrin’s wishes. Since Siffrin had a lot of energy behind his wish and the king less, Siffrin’s wish went above the King’s own in regards to who ended up with their wish “granted.” (the output was greater due to the fact it was less resistant to the whole of Vaugarde’s wish + Loop’s wish)

So, with all this written out, how do we the Players come into this? :3c well… We are a self contained paradox wish! Siffrin’s initial wish was to (insert one of the initial options) and “You want to stay with them!” which is the wish that caused the Timecraft ability for Timelooping (if I wanted to be pedantic I would actually say Siffrin can Travel time and isn't looping but that's a whole ass other post). This wish DID NOT bring us to the loops nor did it give Siffrin a guide, it was just a wish made to stay with people already in this timeline/universe. This made it impossible for outside help as it was VERY specific to only this universe, “stay with them.” But when Siffrin gave up, they made a secondary wish, 

(Loop: For someone… Anyone, to help me!!!)

This wish let us, The Players, directly able to interact with ISAT and SAAP. As they reached out into the universe and called for help, the Universe answered by letting outside help interact with timeline by guiding the new Siffrin. We are only able to help out by Loop making this wish! But, now, how does that make us a self contained paradox wish? Well… Thats because in order for the wish to happen, we needed to help Loop make the wish in the first place! By playing the SAAP, we helped Loop get to a position in which they made the wish which allowed us to help them which allowed them to make the wish etc etc. 

Thus we the players are now able to continue helping out when the timeline goes forward into ISAT, alongside Loop who’s wish allowed for a second try (a Start again if you will). 

The reason I also added the other information is because I think its important to remember that craft takes energy, and what Loop says about their wish is that they “destroyed” themself rather than “destroy the world” which… I think it means that Loop basically blew up like the Big Bang rather than become a Black Hole like Siffrin did. This “restarted” the timeline as a whole rather than just Vaugarde as we can see differences in Loop’s timeline and Siffrin’s, and if they’re the same timeline why are there such big differences? Well, yeah,,, Loop remade the entirety of the timeline rather than just Vaugarde… Oops! Big Bang, yaknow? Its still a singular Timeline, it’s just that it restarted the timeline’s progress pretty far back as a whole rather than specific segments. Also, Loop doesnt appear to help until after the initial ISAT wish, so we can just assume that the Universe plucked them from their wish making directly into this timeline section. 

As for why I added the whole Path of Least Resistance Theory for wishcraft… that’s cause Siffrin having Loop’s wish actually helped guide Vaugarde’s wishes into an easier path which allowed them beat the King easier <3. Without Loop’s wish, it would have been impossible for Siffrin to actually progress and get out of the loops alive. Lol. ANYWAY, this is all to say, I do think the Universe is a separate entity to the Players BUT by virtue of how the Players interact with Siffrin I would say we are part of the universe via proxy measures. :3c

This really got away from me,,, hope this is all good and understandable I had to use a google doc to write this all out,,,,

[angry-tarot]

a message from your pain

talking about suffering is hard, but ultimately necessary. welcome to this pac, I am here to shed light on your wounds in ways that are helpful. by the way, sorry if the artwork is triggering, I tried to find the perfect ones that really encapsulate what deep pain and despair feel like, but the messages might be more soothing than the pics lol.

welcome to your reading ! just wanted to say thanks in advance for stopping by 🫡

Pile one 🖤

You're putting your sword down. Confrontation is a no no for you, isn't it? You rather die than pick up a fight again. You swallow your words, your boundaries are non existent, you're constantly on edge and anxious. Hear me out, pile one. When you're putting your sword down, you're not actually putting it down. You're shoving it right in your own stomach. I'm not telling you to become angry and start fighting everyone around you. But if you keep quiet, taking it all in, you're going to become sick. You want to keep the peace, but not your peace. You want to keep yourself small, not bothersome, for these people's comfort. If talking to the people around you is so conflict inducing, why bother having these people around at all? If your boundaries aren't heard or even allowed to be set, why bother having these people around you AT ALL? If you must live with them, consider moving somewhere more peaceful, like a family member. Take action if your words aren't welcomed. Leave. Remove yourself. Stop taking in poison, because the longer you do, the longer the healing will take. You're already feeling awful. Your suffering exist because you feel obligated to be around people who hurt you and demand you to be silent. Set yourself free. And don't try to talk to them about it. You will have to unpack all of this on your own, or with other people who will understand and hear you. Process everything you buried deep within you by journaling, speaking out loud, punching a pillow. Just let it all out. Short them you will have to slowly heal from all this crystalized, internalized abuse. Long term, recognize this pattern: whenever you feel the need to be quiet to not bother someone else, leave, and never go back to the people who did this to you.

Pile two 🖤

Oh, your pile actually resonates with the pic you chosen. I see an artist, a creative or someone who does something out of the norm. You could even be a witch, like me. The thing is, you have internalized a lot of criticism, and no longer feel as passionate as you did before. You want to create and be who you were before, but you lost your drive and motivation. It seems a lot of conflict used to exist or still exists because of your hobby, career or spirituality, and you felt like it lost the point. You could've tried to prove something to these people, you could've tried to argue, and nothing worked. Even your own progress wasn't matching to your expectations. So what if they were right? Your spark died, but now that you have worked so hard, it's hard to let go. It became your personality, it used to be your comfort, but now there's only a shadow of what it used to be. I'm not going to tell you whether you keep going or not, this is your decision. But you can regain the spark if you want to. But try to protect it better this time, whatever it is that you do. Hide it, if it is possible. Avoid taking about it to people who are committed to misunderstanding you. And go backwards. Reconnect with it, by understanding what made you so fascinated and entranced by it in the beginning. Maybe, that vision is no longer appealing, and if so, create another one. Restart from scratch, but have a vision, just like you did in the beginning. Say to yourself you are committed to falling in love again with your craft, if that's what you choose. If not, it's always ok to let it go. You can always find another something to be passionate about.

Pile three 🖤

Someone taught you that money was the only thing in life. That it defined your worth and value as a person. That nothing else was as important. That your safety was defined by the amount of money you had, from a young age or a very vulnerable period in your life. So your mind attached to the idea that if you didn't had money, you were in mortal danger, you were worthless and a nobody. Your relationship with money, regardless of how much you have or not, is distorted. You could be stable and still feel like it's not enough, or you could be just starting in adulthood and feeling very scared of the future. Money is important, yes. But it's exactly this fear, this pressure, this feeling like your life depends on it, it's paralyzing you, it's traumatizing and deeply agonizing. What will help you is basically lots of cbt. Ever heard of catastrophizing? Cognitive distortions? These could be playing a large role on your mindset and consequently, the amount of money you're able to make. These tools of cbt can help you relax and see things a bit more rationally. Since it's personal to each of you, I cannot fix your fears, but I can give you some of my tools for you to fix them yourself.