#Time card calculator

[invoicera1]

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[timecalculatorio]

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[cjgladback]

I went to my first fiber festival this past weekend! Hoosier Hills Fiber Festival; if I'm still in this state come June next year, I'll probably be back and would love to meet anybody else there. Socializing/hanging out/talking to people without feeling like I was obstructing Real Customers was the one thing I missed, though I didn't really get to any of the free lectures so maybe that's where I could've met some people. Since it was an unknown situation with a lot of people and nearly an hour drive each way, I strategized to make sure I'd go:

First day, I signed up for a couple volunteer shifts. Absolutely a recommended strategy.

Got to be helpful!

They happened to have goodie bags, to help me justify the gas and time (I now have a nice tape measure to replace the one that's been vacationing with a missing sewing kit for a couple years and a lasercut wood two-inch gauge window that might help me with consistency versus my suboptimal practice of just trying to knit perfect squares when swatching in pattern)

I got to learn things about the layout and schedule I wouldn't know to ask when answering questions and acting as a gofer -- especially true working two different locations

And of course, some people were pretty much guaranteed to be happy to see me!

Second day, I signed up for a workshop in the morning so I'd be there and able to shop for anything I needed at the end. Ombre yarn dyeing was the class! It's acid dyes, something I'm several years off from wanting to get into enough to commit to dedicated cookware, full pots of dye powder, etc. The room with the workshop was a barn that had plenty of outlets--but they did not represent plenty of breakers. So there weren't quite enough functional heating elements for the class to have sufficiently cooked our yarn before leaving, and I did need to risk a giant stock pot at home for three batches of four jars, almost-simmering in a water bath for thirty minutes each, of the yarn that hadn't proven it was done (all but the two palest greens). I was a little worried the delay/drawn out heat situation would affect the results but if it did it wasn't much; I got pretty much exactly what I was hoping for with my two color gradient and the single is great too!

The single dye gradient is the color Moss, which did some interesting things with the red portion separating out once they were heated. Every skein has redder blotches, so I'm not bothered about any inconsistency -- if anything it'll help my finished product camouflage stains. Though it was definitely a surprise for me and the other Moss user in the class when our first yarn to have exhausted the dye was the complementary color to what it went in as.

The two color gradient used Rhodamine Red on one end, which was one end of one of our instructor's samples where she chose a cool-green for the other end to show how multi-component dyes mix less predictably than most paint. (It was kinda like shading with markers where you can still see washes of the pink and green in what you squint at and call a grey-brown.) The other end was Cantaloupe, which was one of the maybe three colors she didn't have a sample cut of yarn for. But she described it as the flesh of a perfect ripe cantaloupe and obviously I had to see that, and it sounded like it would be fairly guaranteed to combine nicely with the magenta while being just enough around a bend in the color wheel to be interesting--warm orange versus cool pink. As I said, it turned out pretty much exactly as I was picturing. Not anticipated was how much the jars looked like they were full of some delicious dragonfruit-mango beverage. Were I still a barista I'd be trying to recreate this for my shift drink.

Image descriptions under the cut.

[ID: Five images following fourteen small skeins of sock yarn dyed in individual glass jars, in two gradients. One gradient is six skeins from a medium forest green through a pale creamy pink, the other is eight skeins from a vibrant yellow orange through an even more vibrant magenta. The first photo is inside under fluorescent lights, showing the 32oz glass canning jars with metal lids and rings, full of dye and yarn on a table at the end of the class in which they were filled and heated for a short time.

The next two images are animated gifs. The first gif is two frames showing the finished dye jars sitting in grass, with their yarn and with it removed. The green gradient left only transparent blue color in its jars, and most of the pink to orange gradient's water looks more orange without its yarn, aside from the third and fourth jars from the orange end, which shade toward a neon lilac with the peachy pink yarn removed. The second gif is a view of the inside of the bright green wash bucket, with just the pink-orange yarn in it, then all of them mixed up, all as they were after a soak with the rust-brown water, in the first rinse, and that rinse water alone showing its transparent but still brown tint.

The last two photos show the gradients lined up along a weathered wooden bench on the side of a deck. The first photo has the wet piles of yarn bundled in front of each of their respective jars with remaining dye. The final photo has the clean, dry yarn wound into center-pull balls and still vibrant in the direct sunlight. End ID]

[kaurwreck]

I like it when the fandom engages with Chuuya drinking problematically or Akutagawa smoking despite his lung disease or Fyodor indulging his gambling addiction.

Asagiri can't explore the same, there's a censorship regime in Japan for manga aimed at certain ages. But even if he doesn't care to, fan works should be transformative and exploratory; and fan works that do so while engaging with the source material and its themes like humanity and contradiction and culpability are even more golden for doing so.

The urge to lacquer fiction in performative didactism and aversion to moral turpitude is self cannibalizing.

[kittlyns]

Genuinely what I do for fun now is open up my credit card apps and then a browser with a credit card repayment calculator, then input numbers until I run out of wiggle room in my budget

[invoicera1]

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[galemilker]

how much fun am i having with LaDs? I just spend 4+ hours making Excel spreadsheets to track event rewards , card ascention resource calculations and about to spend some more to make a filterable table for the cards i have and planner for card upgrades

[gachaparadise]

... Seeing them all lined up is quite satisfactory isn't it.

[aria0fgold]

FUCK I forgot bout the upcoming collab gacha to ensekai o<-< I only have 18k crystals to my name NOOOOOOOO

[anantaru]

your first time with him — love and deepspace

synopsis. taking your virginity

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

warnings. fem! reader, taking your v-card, reader is a virgin, dirty talk

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne

zayne was anxious, very much so, trembling with his excitement as his forehead presses to your throat, his breath shaky with how hard he's trying to hold himself together, "are you sure?" he whispers at first, even though his hands were already gripping against your hips, like your yes would be the only thing that ever mattered.

and when you gave it to him, a silken sweet, real, response, he exhales like he's on the brink of dying, like you're honestly saving him with your answer.

"you don't get to take this back," he utters within a hoarse tone, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear ever so softly, "you give it to me, you chose me."

he says it like it's something sacred, like he's owed the softness between your legs, the stutter of your breath, the shiver of your thighs clamped around his hips, all in all with his hands slowly spreading you open, bare and exposed beneath him, untouched, and the glimmer in his eyes was honestly luscious, like zayne wanted to burn this moment into you until it scarred.

and then, well, he pushes in as your back arches immediately, the stretch resembling fire— like your body was folding in on itself trying to take him fully.

you cry out without meaning to, your voice cracking, the pain sharp and intimate and new, fuck, you've never felt anything like it. something so thick and overwhelming was repeatedly pushing through you, the friction of him splitting you open— muscle dragging against muscle, tight and wet and far too much.

"fuck, listen to that," he snarls against you with gritted teeth as his hips inch forward again, the sound of him sinking into you beginning to be loud and soaked, not to mention raw as your pussy clenches hard and somewhat instinctive.

zayne groans the moment he feels your body accepting him— he was, in fact, utterly gone by this point, finding himself in heaven in the way you whined for him.

your pussy clung to his length as his hand clumsily fumbles at your hip, trying to slow himself down, trying not to break you, fuck, but his rhythm falters and his mouth finds your throat instead— hot and open kisses battering all over your flesh with teeth scraping just to feel you twitch again.

your legs were out of control, thighs shaking around his waist as you didn't know it would feel like this— like you're being hollowed out from the inside, like there's no room and no air, nothing, no way to separate the ache from the pleasure that's already bleeding in at the edges.

you can feel him for real this time— hot and thick and twitching inside you, truly, feel every vein, every slow drag of his cock pressing against that too sensitive place that made your toes curl, such place you didn't know existed in the first place.

after a while, you adjust a little and get used to the new feeling as he's trying to go deeper, over calculating on how much your virgin cunt could take as you suck in a ragged breath and sob out something broken yet sweet, your fingernails digging into his back and still, zayne never stops memorizing your reactions.

his pelvis presses flush to yours as you cry out again, your stomach tight with unbearable pressure as a dull pulse starts to throb low and hard into your tightness with your nerves fried and limbs shaking.

the pain and heat on your split cunt blurs at the edges and gradually develops into pleasure, everything reduced to the feeling of being full and completely owned as you find solace in the new sensation making you addicted to his touch.

"i told you," he breathes out, his voice tight like he's holding his heart in his teeth, "this isn't just sweet, yeah? it's not just soft, this is real, love, this is you giving yourself to me, and sweetheart, i'm not letting go."

ever so, zayne was careful even now, even with how fast he was going, how ruined you felt around him because, well, he's a doctor, wasn't he? he's spent his whole life learning how to fix what's broken, yet with you, all he wanted to do was feel you, let the control slip just for once, let this moment etch itself into your bones.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier

xavier watches you fall apart like he's taking notes— yet he wasn't frantic, he was patient and methodical, a hunter who's already mapped your collapse long before the first touch as with each squeeze and kiss, he shows you that it wasn't curiosity calling him— it's certainty that he wanted this to be with you. forever.

he's towering over you, his breath caught somewhere between awe and hunger, "you're really giving this to me?" he whispers, almost in disbelief, drowning in the moment with his speech being the only thing keeping him afloat, "i'm so lucky,"

his fingers flex tight against the inside of your thighs with his nails biting in, holding you open like a wound as the warmth of his palms burn through your skin.

you feel him there, right here yeah? feel it everywhere.

his cock splits you slow and brutally, the stretch pulling a sob from your chest as your lungs felt too small to bear it and your ribcage too tight to hold it down, your whole body resisting and yearning in the same breath. although he moves deeper, dragging thick through you and you swear you could feel the shape of him break you, feeling it in every vein and every twitch moving forward, every grind of bone and flesh into your virgin cunt being taken so well.

"see?" xavier breathes, frayed with hunger, "you're taking me, even when you said you couldn't."

but it aches— fuck, it aches, you cannot stop moaning, every press of him grinding up against something electric inside of your cunt making your back arch, your fingers clawing at the sheets.

it's slick too, soaking wet and overwhelming— your thighs all sticky with slick and arousal as his hips slam wet and fast into yours with a rhythm that felt like pain turned to pleasure.

your nerves were on fire and everything from the inside out of your body pulses with your belly drawn taut, consistingly multiplying in pressure as his cock fucks into you drastically, your head empty except for the maddening throbs his erection put inside you. at this point, your voice had become a mess of moans and pleas as all you could hear were grunts and hisses intertwining with your very own noises.

xavier felt just so good— he's out of this world and treating you so well, reaching places you never thought were able to be reached in the first place as he grew quite confident in his movements.

whenever he brushed his cock against your walls, you could feel your high approaching with every new snap of his hips, the position he had you in allowing the tip of his cock to reach deep enough for you to properly get used to it.

sweat clings between your bodies and turns you into one, your skin burning and flushed as the air was thick with pheromones and whines and the soft, saccharine coated sounds of him driving into you over and over and over again.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel

you cannot speak and it's futile to even try.

instead, your lips were parted, with breath stuck somewhere between a gasp and a sob as your chest rose with shallow, shuddering motion when rafayel slides his cock inside for the very first time— slow, of course, with his mouth at your ear, "relax," he whispers as his tip bumps upwards, sloppily thrusting into your folds, "you gotta let me in."

your muscles resist although at last, they seize around the stretch with the burn being intoxicating. you're a little anxious about it and he notices by how hard your nails clawed at his biceps— stabilizing yourself to anything while he adjusted himself, inch by inch making you take more of his cock into the small, untouched part of you.

such place no one else has ever felt, and fuck, rafayel's mouth waters at the thought, and well— he admires you, drinks in your struggles to take him as his breath comes sharp through his nose, although his hands remained steady.

one wraps around the base of your spine, the other cradles your jaw as he keeps your head turned just enough for him to study every flicker of pain that crosses your face, "you feel that?" he asks, voice a little raspy, "that's the shape of me, don't resist it,"

you whimper, your thighs slick with sweat and the mess of him spreading slow inside you and ugh, the pain, without rafayel being so considerate and talking you through the entire process, you wouldn't be able to handle it— it's so sharp and gnawing and too much, it brings you to tears, the unrelenting force of him coiling somewhere deep inside your gut, becoming unbearable.

how flustered you have gotten considering he wasn't even all the way in yet, yet you already felt like you're being broken in half.

with that, rafayel laughs when your hips involuntarily twitch, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand and murmuring so softly it vibrates through you, "you're doing so well for me, sweetheart, so brave, letting me be your first."

his lips trail down your throat as he groans when you shiver around him, every inch dragging liquid fire through the both of you, "you feel that? how warm you are? how soft you are around me? like you were made for this— for me."

your shy gaze averts from his heavy one as he found it so unbelievably cute and amusing that you still managed to feel embarrassed even after taking his cock so perfectly with your cunt by now.

rafayel pauses his hips for a bit, his forehead sensually pressed to yours, "you're not hurting, are you? I can stop— i'd rather die than hurt you," if only he knew you thought if only he could go faster now.

fuck, your head falls back when you urge him to continue moving, his hand dancing over your stomach as he abruptly presses down— always gently, just enough for you to feel him moving deeper inside within an invading force.

"you like that? you want me to do it again?" he smirks, "you're so tight, don't even know how to take it myself, but fuck, i'll teach you, i'll teach you until your body only knows me."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus

you taste like need when sylus kissed you with your lips swollen, breath catching and the edge of panic sweetened on your tongue as his fingers trail down teasingly, forever feather light when your entire body tenses under the rub of skin on skin.

he treasures the lust in your limbs and the sheen of tears catching light in your lashes as his hands remain careful, but not hesitant, no, sylus was never hesitant.

he's memorizing every inch of you with that predator's patience— every hitch in your breath, every place that made your spine arch and your thighs twitch and now he's touching you like he's memorized the blueprints of your body.

sylus grinds into you with utter patience as he pushes through your sensitive hole, inserting just the head of course, just enough to make you feel the impossible stretch of him as your body betrays you.

a sound escapes and scratches your throat, truly, it was unrecognizable when you moaned his name for the first time, as if your soul had tried to flee through you and kiss his lips.

"you're shaking," his voice was velvet, stretched thin and vibrating desperately, surely about to snap, "do you want me to stop?" a pause lingers between your lips as his hand finds yours, "tell me, and I will, but if you want this, if you want me, i'll be so gentle with you."

sylus cannot take his eyes of you, he's breathless, as if that noise were a sacred thing, a proof of something irreversible— that your body was already surrendering before you'd fully let him in. the man believed you're out of this world, wanting you to feel everything— the swollen stretch of his length, the heat his body permeated, the hefty pressure of being entered this way, inch by inch around something so intimate.

"shh, i know," each of his words dragging deeper as his eyes lock on your face like it's a mirror to his own hunger, "you feel like silk, you feel like you're fighting it."

you are, yes, you're drowning in it.

his cock sinks deeper and the burn starts to slowly blur away, sensation blooming in sickening waves, pain and pleasure curling tight in your belly until you didn't know where one ends and the other begins. the sound of your body taking him was ringing through you and when his hips finally meet yours, you felt split, your thighs immediately jerking up, your stomach knotting as you make another desperate noise, both moaning into the kiss, exchanging your breaths as the feeling of him stretching you was to die for.

sylus doesn't move a lot in the beginning, just a few pumps ever so often to find out what you liked, although staying buried to the hilt, watching the flicker of your lashes and the way your mouth trembles open like you want to say something but cannot remember how to speak.

his pace was slow but steady, every grind of his hips forcing a soft, wet sound from between your legs as his hair brushes your cheek within each thrust, his warm breath prancing over your neck— yet when you finally start to unravel, when the pressure cracks you open and your breath breaks in a thousand shards, sylus seeks for your lips as you moan into them, a sound of you falling apart being the only thing holding him together.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb

you're underneath caleb, your heart pounding with a noise that didn't belong to your body, although not from fear, not entirely, it's due to him, yes— his darling face and angelic voice, murmuring your name like he's never supposed to say anything else.

caleb cups your jaw as his thumb sweeps over your cheek lovingly, your skin already burning from the softness of his hands as your thighs were slightly twinging from the way they've stayed open, aching in the weight of him.

"you're sure, really?" he asks again like he doesn't believe it.

but you nod at him and it kills him, choking up on the storm of sensation as the man moves closer when you take in his scent, the air permeating of pine and sweat and warmth, the dampness of your skin pressed against each other as the weight of his cock repeatedly nudging against your entrance was something fated, something unstoppable.

he kisses you deeply, tongue slow and ravishing your lips, like he's trying to memorize the inside of your mouth before he captures you further, your body flinches when he takes you at last, choking on the sheer breadth of it.

the stretch was cutting, your body clamping down on instinct and body saving energy due to turning overwhelmed and confused.

yes, it was painful, you cannot lie to yourself, and slightly dizzying too, like something too large being forced into a space that's never known intrusion.

caleb's hands were everywhere, one holding your thighs wide open, the other gripping your hand tightly and grounding you as he presses his forehead to yours, his breath stuttering against your lips, "breathe," he whispers, voice slightly cracking when you tense down on his length, "breathe for me, i've got you."

he's barely halfway in, and you can already feel it— stretching deep, dragging against your nerves that have never been touched before, quite literally stealing the air from your lungs.

not to mention that he was big, well, you could've guessed that yet despite that, your body kept pulling him in instinctively, not wanting him to leave anymore.

caleb gasps, "you're so tight, fuck, i can feel you shaking," you were, in fact, your whole body was shaking, belly fluttering with pressure and pain and something else— something lusting and awfully blooming low inside your belly, tight and insistent as he shifts his hips forward, just a little more, and it feels like you're being split.

his cock continues to move, dragging every wet inch against your walls as your muscles squeeze him, your eyes glimmering from how good you were being fucked as you instantly open more for him, trying to accommodate him as good as possible.

"you're doing so good," he breathes, "so perfect, you don't know what you're doing to me," as tears prick your eyes when he kisses them ever so gently, even as he keeps sinking in he whispers your name again, like he's swearing an oath.

truly, he's everywhere, moaning shamelessly like your body was the only thing that's ever mattered to him, inhaling your maddening scent sharply as he kept rutting inside of you.

"i can't believe this is real," he cries out with his mouth against your temple and his hips rocking in and out, the friction too much as you're still too sensitive when dig your nails into his back to sob into his neck.

you're crying, you don't even know why, maybe it's the pain, maybe the stretch, maybe the way he kept whispering your name like it's the only thing he's ever wanted to say. with that, you clutch to him tighter, needing him closer, needing him deeper, and caleb gave it to you instantly, everything you desired— every inch, every rock of hips, every broken word of promises.

"you'll never need anyone else," he speaks as if the air itself was fragile, every word cutting deeper as he places a couple kisses on your cheek before smiling into the skin, "i'm going to keep you like this forever."

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[sqeeebus]

No this literally happened to me recently— except more embarassing

[whoslaurapalmer]

okay okay. i was able to order the birthday cake milkshake. pray for me that i Get the milkshake

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: How will your future spouse pursue you ⋆˙⟡

✧˚. How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

✧˚. If you enjoyed this reading, get your own personalized paid reading here!😊🦋

✧˚. For personalized 18+ readings, click here!

✧˚. My Ko-fi link: here 🫶🏻

✧˚. My Masterlist🫶🏻

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE I

Cards Pulled: king of swords, knight of cups reversed, king of pentacles, the sun, the tower, 2 of swords

Right off the bat, you’re gonna think this person is cold. PERIOD. I’m sorry, but King of Swords as the first card, this ain’t some gushy softie sliding into your DMs with heart emojis and “wyd baby.” Nah, theyre giving emotionally disciplined, calculating, and “I only let three people see the real me and you’re not on the list… yet. YET” they might come across lowkey intimidating at first, like, the kind of person who’s quiet in group settings but throws out that one sarcastic comment that’s so sharp it makes everyone laugh and feel personally attacked. 😭💀

BUT TRUST ME, they’re watching you. Like… a hawk. They’re the type who is taking mental notes on your coffee order, your laugh patterns, the way you furrow your brows when you’re deep in thought, stuff even you don’t know you do. But honesty love….. they’re into you from day one, but they plays it off like he’s unbothered. Classic King of Swords move. Strategic af. Theyre lowkey fighting himself. Like, internally they got this soft, romantic, borderline poetic thing brewing, he fantasizes about running into you by “accident,” planning the most aesthetic dates, imagining you in his hoodie😭but he’s actively repressing it. Because vulnerability? He’d rather eat glass, thanks. He doesn’t want to be obvious. He’s convinced if he lets on how deep he’s feeling this, he’ll lose the upper hand or get hurt. So what does he do instead? Weird passive-aggressive things. Acts uninterested one minute, then gives you eyes across the room like he’s trying to telepathically undress your soul the next. Sir. Pick a lane. He doesn’t chase, he builds. He slowly starts showing up for you in the most tangible, grounded ways. Need help with something? He’s already on it. Mentioned your favorite snack in passing? It just “randomly” appears next time. The way this man provides?? You’ll be SHOOK. He’s not flashy about it either. He’s like, “I got you” and means it. That’s when you start going: “Wait… are they… serious?” Because once this person is IN, he is IN. Like, no games, no pullbacks. Suddenly it’s "have you eaten?" and "text me when you get home" and "do you want me to fix that thing?." Husband mode activated. 

BUT THEN. Omg. THE TOWER. 😭 Baby this is where it goes OFF. Something will shift drastically. And honestly, You might be the one who triggers it, ofc we are talking about you here so. Like maybe you call him out for his hot-and-cold vibe, or you walk away ‘cause you’re done playing Guess Who: Feelings Edition. Whatever it is, it SHATTERS his cool-boy facade. The Tower is giving “omg I fumbled” realness. He suddenly realizes how much he could lose and spirals. Might even go quiet for a second, lick his wounds, have a whole emotional breakdown. But then… boom. THE SUN. This is where the magic happens. The pursuit becomes warm, honest, and loud. He stops hiding. He owns it. Like, “Yeah, I like you. Actually, I love you. Actually, I wanna grow old with you and argue about what brand of detergent we’re using.” You’ll feel seen, adored, and finally safe in this connection. It’s that post-breakdown glow-up. He starts expressing himself clearly, no longer scared to let you in.

But now. Girl. YOU are gonna be the one hesitating now 😭. That Tower moment hits you, too. You start overthinking: “Can I trust this sudden 180? Was he always this into me and just hiding it? Do I want someone who couldn’t be vulnerable from the start?” Like, your brain starts weighing everythings. And that’s valid! It’s hard to unsee someone’s walls once you’ve bumped into them. So how do you perceive him throughout this journey? At first, cold and confusing af. Then… weirdly magnetic. Then dependable and lowkey daddy-coded. Then chaotic and heartbreak-y. Then sunshine and deeply, deeply sincere. You’ll feel like you’re watching him peel back layer after layer, and each one gets softer, realer, and more him.

His hints would be subtle but intentional. He remembers small things. He lingers a bit longer in conversations than necessary. He suddenly shows interest in the things you love, even if they weren’t his vibe before. He gives you those “you’re the only person in this room I care about” eyes. He’ll NEVER say it first… until he breaks. And when he does? You’re done. Stick a fork in you. Soul snatched. Game over.

I am seeing like he might dream about you before things really pop off. He might tell you later like ,“I had this weird dream we were married lol” and laugh it off, but internall,y he’s BLUSHINGGG because the dream felt real. Also… idk why I’m seeing like… rain or some stormy weather being important??? Maybe the Tower moment literally happens during a stormy day and you both cry under the rain like a movie scene? (i mean…..idc… if i am getting me personal main character moment. It’s all part of the process, i guess💁🏻‍♀️).

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⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE II

Cards Pulled: the tower, king of wands, 5 of pentacles, queen of cups, 8 of pentacles, 10 of pentacles

PILE 2, Okay but… why does this feel like a well written kdrama with 16 episodes??? I mean i could literally make a movie out of this pile 😭 my reaction to the cards were literally: oh, OH, ahh , TF, Oh. My. GOD.😭 

The drama. The rawness. The "I didn’t see this coming, but now I literally can’t look away" energy is off the charts. And I’m already obsessed. So let’s talk about how this chaotic yet painfully magnetic future spouse of yours is about to come stomping into your world like they own the place, with all their trauma and broken broken parts and this weirdly hot charisma that shouldn’t be attractive but is. And somehow?? You fall for it. But like… respectfully 😭.

this person doesn’t approach you like your average person in love would do. No flowers and shy glances. Nope. It’s giving, "I just burnt my life down and now I’m rebuilding from scratch and oh look, you’re here too," vibes. Like you know when someone walks into a room and they don’t say much but their energy is SCREAMING "I’ve been through the trauma you couldn't even imagine"? That’s them. Tower card energy straight up. Something’s just collapsed in their life, could be a major breakup, a career flop, family drama, or literally an existential crisis. Honestly? Feels like all three, let’s not lie 💀. But instead of moping around, this person grabs that chaos and turns it into… ambition. Swagger. Power. This is someone who knows how to lead. They pursue you like they’re chasing their next purpose. With intention. With clarity. And this lowkey intimidating confidence that says “I know what I want, and it’s you.” But let’s not pretend it’s smooth sailing here. Bc 5 of Pentacles? Babe. This person has been abandoned, emotionally iced out, or felt major rejection in the past. Like it’s giving "I’ve loved and I’ve lost and now I trust NO ONE but my dog”. And because of that, Their way of pursuing you is… messy. Not in a manipulative way, but in that "I’m trying to be a lover while still patching up my own wounds" type of mess. So expect mixed signals. Hot and cold. Deep talks followed by withdrawal. And you’re gonna be like, “Sir?? Do you like me or do you need therapy??” honestly: it’s both 😭.

Queen of Cups as the next card is where things get interesting. You. Literally you. You're intuitive AF, emotionally intelligent, and probably catch onto their emotional damage in the first week and are like “Yup. You’re hurt. But I see the softie under all that wreckage.” And here's where it gets wild: they know you see it. That’s what makes them pursue harder. You’re the first person who doesn’t just want them for their outer confidence and King of Wands hotness, you want to know their soul. Their weird inner child. Their guilt. Their hidden sadness. And that?? That shakes them. In a good way. You start noticing little things. Like how they’ll work on themselves just to be better for you. They start showing up. Maybe it’s slow, but you’ll see them trying, healing their abandonment issues, learning to communicate, showing effort in tangible ways. Like planning little dates, asking how your day was (and ACTUALLY listening….woah rare, ngl), sharing parts of their past without you asking. They might even pick up new skills or hobbies because you like them. A little "if she likes books, I read books now" moment?? 😭😭 Despite how mature and scarred and big-boss they may appear, at their core, they’re a newbie when it comes to actual healthy love. Like yeah, they’ve loved before. But not YOU kind of love. Not “you see me even when I’m not performing” kind of love. And that humbles the hell out of them. They're awkward about it. Like, "I wanna give you the world but I also don’t know how to wrap a gift box correctly." 😭 It’s so endearing, you can’t help but melt. They pursue you like someone relearning love from scratch, and you become their soft place to land. They’ll stumble. They’ll overthink. But babe, they’ll try. And that’s what makes them fall harder. Because this ain’t about seduction. It’s about growth. They're not gonna outright confess their feels in the beginning. It’s gonna be hidden in acts of service. Like fixing your broken lamp. Or sending you a meme with a weird caption like, "reminds me of u" Or casually saying “I don’t talk to many people like I do with you,” and then acting like it wasn’t a full-on emotional proposal. Their love language is subtle till it’s not, okay?? But your intuitive self picks up on every damn sign, and you’ll know before they even open their mouth. That’s the connection here, psychic soulmate level. You’ll feel their love way before it’s said.

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⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PILE III

Cards Pulled: king of wands, 3 of cups, knight of swords reversed, the devil, 8 of cups, the star

OKAY, PILE 3 is here and… GIRL this pile has such strong, “Dark romance” vibes and also that “enemies to lovers but we’re obsessed with each other” trope energy like NO OTHER 😮‍💨🔥. Your future spouse? It’s that person who shows up outta nowhere and instantly throws your life into disarray because the connection is too much, too fast, too real. They pursue you like they’ve waited lifetimes to find you and now that you’re finally here, they’re not gonna risk losing you, even if it means accidentally traumatizing you with their intensity first 😭.

So let’s start with the vibe of this person, okay? Immediately I’m seeing someone who is dominant AF in presence, the type of person where the second they walk into a room, your attention shifts without your permission. But they’re not all flash and no depth, this person has that charismatic, “traumatized but make it aesthetic” confidence LOL. Think: the guy who’s lowkey too cool for everyone but gets soft for you 🫠. But it’s not just charm. It's calculated. They choose to pursue you. Like, they spotted you from across the damn soul contract timeline and were like, “Yep. That one. Mine.” LMAO.

Here’s where it gets juicy though, this person doesn’t make their pursuit clean or safe. We’ve got the Knight of Swords reversed mixed with The Devil and 3 of Cups… BABY. I’m not gonna lie, their approach is gonna have you shook. This isn't some slow-burn "lemme get to know you" type of chase. Nah, it’s giving intoxicated obsession. Like they’re coming at you way too fast, might say things they haven’t thought through (hello chaotic confessions??), maybe even making moves when you’re like “Wait… tf is happening?!” . And I SWEAR this person gives off the vibe of someone who might try to "just be friends" first… but they absolutely fail at it. Like... you’re not slick, sir. The way they look at you? Not very "friendly." More like "I wanna pin you to the wall in a meaningful way." 😭 it’s like you look into their eyes once aand you are going inot their crib TONIGHT. 

BUT. Their pursuit of you isn’t just lusty and impulsive, it’s coming from a place of deep yearning and soul ache. You’re literally the star they’ve been trying to find after walking away from a bunch of superficial crap. I’m getting that they’ve already been through a lot emotionally, they’ve had to let go of people, addictions (literal or emotional), maybe even success that wasn’t fulfilling. So while their approach is messy and extra (like “sir pls chill”), it’s coming from a place of craving real healing, real light, REAL connection. And guess what? That’s what you are to them. Their fkn North Star. And trust me, they don't even realize it at first, like they’re thinking they’re chasing a thrill, but gets, spiritual awakening outta nowhere. Bestie… you’re gonna think they’re too much. 😂 Straight up. You’ll be like “This person is hot, sure……but wtf is this energy??” It’ll feel like you’re constantly trying to decide between “should I kiss them or block them?” Energy chaotic AF. You’ll clock them trying to play it cool, but their eyes? Screaming "I'm feral for you." It’s also possible they’ll show up when you’re trying to move on from someone/something else, and you’ll be hesitant because you’re finally healing, vibing, living in peace, and here comes this walking temptation in human form, knocking on your aura like “hey 😏.” i mean really this emoji is the perfect example of how i am imagining this person.  There’s definitely a karmic undertone here, like you two have danced this dance before in past lives but it was let uncompleted. So now, they're NOT playing around. And the way The Star closes the reading? OOF. After all the chaos, the push/pull, the temptation, and messy little love games… they want peace with you. You are the peace. The wish. The endgame. But it’s not gonna come pretty.

Okay so their hints are not actually hints. They’ll accidentally drop the biggest signs , forgetting they’re supposed to pretend. They’ll joke about being obsessed with you? Deadass. They’ll mention you in every convo “by accident.” They might post quotes on their stories or make weird comments like “If I ever fall in love, it’ll be someone like you” 🙄, SIR. STOP. WE SEE YOU.  The 3 of Cups energy is also giving “I’ll use mutual friends to get close to you,” like casually showing up at a party where you just happen to be?? Please.And listen, not everything will be smooth sailing. That Devil energy is LOUD. There will be moments where you’ll wonder if you’re drawn to them because it’s fated… or because it’s toxic. But that’s part of the growth arc. They’re not here to ruin your life, they’re here to crack your heart open with messy hands. And once they realize that they can’t control you? That’s when the real magic starts. That’s when they fall so damn hard, they start building a whole new version of themselves just to be worthy of your light.

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog, it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[jeondesu]

ೀ⋆ SKZ + PRINCESS TREATMENT !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ 𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ rich bf!skz x gf!reader ˒˓ established relationship 𝓰enre/𝓽ags. fluff, kissing, minor profanity, mentions of alcohol, jealousy/possessiveness, skinship, petnames, the boys are soo whipped for you, slightly suggestive but nothing explicit 𝔀ords. 2.6k

[ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — so.. i’ve had this in my drafts since forever ago and i just decided why not post it lol, i wrote most of this like months ago but i did try and edit some stuff so hopefully this ain’t too bad !

방찬/BANG CHAN — “ eyes full of desire, a soul full of fire ”

Chan doesn’t just spoil you— he worships you.

You’re the jewel of his empire, the one person he always makes time for, no matter the chaos surrounding him. When he’s not finalizing contracts in glass-walled boardrooms or flying across continents for meetings, he’s home— on his knees, lacing up your strappy stilettos with fingers that tremble slightly from desire and reverence.

His touch is careful, almost ceremonial, like he’s handling something sacred.

“Damn, baby,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your ankle bone. “You’re gonna be the reason I lose my mind tonight.”

He buys you dresses in silk and velvet, personally approves every outfit sent by your stylist, and only wants you in heels that make you stand taller— closer to his lips when he pulls you in for a kiss.

At parties, you’re not just a date. You’re the moment. Every man in the room glances your way, but none of them matter— not when his hand stays on the small of your back, his arm slung over the booth with a dangerous smirk. “Eyes off,” he warns anyone too bold, “she’s mine.”

After too many glasses of Dom Pérignon, your heels dangle from your fingers and you’re barefoot in the back of a Rolls-Royce. He cradles your feet in his lap like they’re precious, rubbing gentle circles into your arches.

Later, in the bathroom of his penthouse, he removes your jewelry piece by piece. Each kiss that follows tastes like champagne and sin.

“Every man in that room wanted you,” he rasps against your collarbone. “But they’ll never touch you. You’re my queen. My only one.”

리노/LEE KNOW — “ he’s got a diamond mind. cold and hard, and brilliant ”

Minho is as sharp as the rings he wears— cold platinum, perfectly polished. To the world, he’s a calculated tycoon in black-on-black suits, the man who never cracks, never falters. But with you?

He melts.

You’re the only one who sees the cracks in the diamond. The softness buried deep beneath the cold precision. And he spoils you— subtly, intentionally, and always on his terms.

He doesn’t send you roses. He sends your favorite rare orchids, personally grown in his rooftop garden. Doesn’t give you a black card— he hands you a new Amex encased in velvet with a lazy, “Here. Don’t hold back.”

You’re perched on the marble countertop one morning, oversized button-down barely hanging on, as Minho fastens the dainty clasp of a new necklace around your throat— rose gold, with a sapphire he hand-picked to match your eyes.

And then comes that signature move: neck kisses.

“You wear my shirt better than I do,” he hums, mouth grazing your skin. “But next time… leave something on underneath. Or we’re not getting out of this house.”

Despite the stoic front he wears in public, Minho makes time for soft things. Coffee dates with just the two of you in private rooftops. Moonlit car rides where his fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on your thigh as he drives with one hand on the wheel.

But jealousy, oh, it turns him into something else.

One night, at a high-profile fashion event, a designer flirts a bit too comfortably with you. Compliments your neckline. Suggests a private shoot.

Minho’s jaw ticks.

He’s subtle— always— but you feel the way his grip on your waist tightens, the faint curl of his lip when he leans in and presses a possessive kiss just under your ear, hands splayed over your exposed back.

“Do you want him to lose his contract?” He murmurs against your skin, low and sweet like honey over broken glass.

You laugh, brushing your fingers through his hair.

“Relax, Min. You’re the only one I want.”

“I know.” He pulls you even closer, “but I hate when other people forget.”

And that’s the thing: to Minho, you’re not just his girl— you’re his weakness in a world where he allows none. He’ll slice through empires for you. And if someone touches what’s his?

He makes sure they regret it.

창빈/CHANGBIN — “ he’s like a song she can’t get out of her head ”

Changbin doesn’t date you. He composes you— in verses, in rhythms, in the way he memorizes your laugh and turns it into art.

You’re everywhere in his life. His phone wallpaper, the reason he wears color now, the girl who turned his penthouse into a second home instead of a museum of expensive furniture. And he doesn’t just want to impress you— he wants to drown you in the knowledge that you are it for him.

He flies you out to a private beach house on a whim— “You looked tired. I wanted you to breathe somewhere pretty.”

You’re barefoot, wine-drunk, and giggling under fairy lights when he plays you a new track on his portable speakers. It’s all soft bass and yearning piano.

You recognize the lyrics.

It’s you.

Your voice.

Your phrases.

Your name, laced with adoration and something so achingly desperate it makes your chest burn.

He pulls you to him, lets the wine and music blur the night. “You’re stuck in my head,” he breathes, lips ghosting yours. “I can’t write a damn thing without you bleeding into it.”

Changbin isn’t flashy, but he’s relentless. You mention liking a certain perfume? It’s already sitting on your nightstand in every size. You love vintage vinyls? He’ll bid half a million at an auction to get you the rarest edition.

He treats your smile like it’s the hook of his best chorus— repeating it, obsessing over it, addicted to the feeling it brings.

And when he kisses you? It’s never just a kiss. It’s a confession. A climax. A plea to never let him go.

현진/HYUNJIN — “ for she is his poet, and he is her poetry ”

Hyunjin lives like he’s stepped out of a sonnet— and loving you is the most extravagant poem he’s ever written.

You’re his muse, obsession, and masterpiece all at once. And he shows it in the grandest ways: silk sheets painted with roses, handwritten letters sealed in wax, moonlit portraits of you sprawled across his studio in nothing but his shirt and an entire chandelier’s worth of candlelight.

When he sends you flowers, they’re never basic bouquets.

They arrive in curated color palettes.

Blush, cream, and wine-red for love.

Lavender for the days you feel low.

Once, he sent 100 white roses— each with a note tucked into the petals:

‘For every time I thought of you today.’

His kisses are soft— reverent.

He doesn’t kiss like a man in a rush. He kisses like he’s studying art with his mouth. Like he wants to taste every emotion that made your heart beat that day.

And when you read to him— bare legs over his lap, glasses slipping down your nose— he looks at you like the heroine of a tragic romance film.

“Read slower,” he spoke softly, voice thick. “I wanna remember the sound of your voice for the rest of my life.”

On nights when the world gets too loud, he takes you to his gallery—one he privately owns, hidden in the hills. There, in a room filled only with paintings of you, he pours you wine and tells you about the constellations in your eyes.

Sometimes the moment turns heated— almost desperate. Passion rising like a crescendo as you press him against the canvas, smudging paint between fevered touches.

“You’re art,” he whispers into your skin. “Every inch of you.”

한/HAN — “ my entire sky craves your only star ”

Jisung’s love is loud, messy, and utterly devoted. He acts like you invented the concept of romance— like you crash-landed into his world and rewired the stars just by smiling at him.

He’s the type to fly you across the globe because “the moon looks better in Florence, babe. Come see it with me.” The type to sneak up behind you mid-morning and tuck his face into the crevice of your neck like you’re home, like he’ll suffocate if he doesn’t touch you every 10 minutes.

You are, quite literally, the only girl in his world— and he makes sure you know it.

His penthouse is littered with photos of you: polaroids from date nights, selfies you didn’t know he took, your face mid-laugh framed in gold on his nightstand. When his producer teases him about being “whipped,” he just grins and shrugs.

“She’s my star. My oxygen. You want me to breathe without her?”

He keeps you close in every way possible. His lyrics? About you. His passwords? Your name. His favorite hoodie? Now smells like your perfume.

But Han’s love language? Affection. All. The. Damn. Time.

Kisses when you wake up, featherlight and lingering, paired with sleep-drenched words like:

“Still dreaming about you.”

Kisses at parties, where he grabs your face in both hands and kisses you like you’re the only reason the lights are still on.

And kisses when he’s drunk— messy, dramatic, whiny kisses where he keeps telling you how hot and smart and amazing you are, face buried in your chest.

He’s never been good at subtlety.

He buys you matching jewelry— because, “If I get hit by a bus, I want paramedics to know you’re my soulmate.”

He keeps your favorite snacks in every car he owns.

And once, during a red carpet interview, he straight up walked off mid-question to bring you your forgotten lipstick because, “she can’t go without her lucky shade, are you insane??”

필릭스/FELIX — “ he smiled, and his face was like the sun ”

Felix is your personal sun— bright, constant, and utterly devoted to orbiting you.

He doesn’t just love you. He cherishes you. In his world of tailored suits, gold cufflinks, and first-class flights, you are the one thing that keeps him grounded. While his wealth might buy him anything, you are the one thing he never stops feeling lucky to have.

And he never lets you forget it.

Showering you with endless compliments (and gifts) was standard for him, he just couldn’t help himself— not a single minute went by where he didn’t think you were the most angelic little being to have ever graced this earth.

He’s sat on the edge of the bed while you’re getting ready for a gala, his eyes following every move intently, like a painter observing his subject. With his chin resting in his palm, gaze warm and unblinking, he proceeds to utter, “You’re so beautiful,” for the fifty-fifth time that night. “I doubt I’ll ever move on from it.”

He holds your shoes as you slip into your dress. Carries your clutch. Stands behind you at the mirror, fixing the necklace he bought you—a delicate chain with a charm shaped like the sun. “So everyone knows who you belong to,” he says with a wink, even though his eyes go warm with something much deeper.

And when you’re tired? He runs you a bath filled with rose petals, lights candles everywhere, and sits beside the tub just to massage your feet and tell you stories about his childhood in Australia.

His kisses are soft and lazy— like summer afternoons under silk sheets. The kind that makes your skin grow hot even after he pulls away. He holds your face in both hands like you’re made of crystal, brushing his lips over yours like he’s asking permission each time, even after years of being yours.

Felix doesn’t get jealous. He gets possessive in the gentlest way.

You catch a waiter lingering too long with your wine at a rooftop event, and he slips beside you like clockwork, arm wrapped firmly around your waist, lips brushing your temple.

“You doing okay, baby?” He whispers, voice light, but his eyes never leave the waiter’s.

Afterward, he doesn’t bring it up— just holds you a little tighter and tucks your hair behind your ear like a silent reminder: mine.

승민/SEUNGMIN — “ passionate and glowing, burningly real ”

Seungmin’s love doesn’t scream. It simmers. Beneath the rolled eyes and sarcastic quips is a man who burns for you— constantly, intensely, and without apology.

To the outside world, he’s calm, dry-humored, a little aloof— the heir to a clean-cut dynasty with a jawline that’s made headlines. But with you?

He’s yours. Only yours.

He shows up at your apartment with your favorite takeout and a scowl because “the chef was taking too long, so I made them re-do it with less salt. You’re welcome.”

But it’s the little things— the deliberate things— that give him away.

Like how he memorizes your coffee order down to the temperature. How he always opens your car door, even while pretending to grumble about it. How he lets you steal his hoodies and pretends not to notice, but secretly buys more just so you never run out.

At night, when his walls fall, his passion flares like firelight.

You’re wrapped in sheets, faces inches apart, your fingers tracing the lines of his collarbone. His voice lowers, serious and breathy.

“I don’t care about anything else. Not the company, not the press. Just you. Just this.”

And then he kisses you like he’s afraid the moment will disappear. Slow. Intense. Real.

He’s not touchy in public— but his eyes never leave you. If someone flirts with you at a fundraiser? He won’t make a scene. He’ll wait—cool and quiet— and when you’re alone in the car afterward, he’ll say, “Didn’t know I had to mark my territory so obviously.”

You’ll tease him.

“Were you jealous, Kim Seungmin?”

He just smirks, pulling you into his lap.

“I don’t share.”

And that’s the truth of it: he treats you like his world, because in a life that feels built on glass, you’re the only thing that feels solid.

아이엔/JEONGIN — “ you’re a love that i’d cross oceans for ”

To everyone else, Jeongin is the golden boy. Rich. Well-mannered. The face of his family’s empire with a smile that could charm billionaires. But to you?

He’s soft. Boyish. Yours in the most tender, achingly steadfast way possible— as if loving you is the only thing he’s ever known how to do.

It’s all or nothing when it comes to Jeongin. He doesn’t know how to be half-hearted. He brings you breakfast in bed— every Sunday, even if he’s jet-lagged. Keeps extra hoodies in his car just in case you get cold. Carries your lipstick in his pocket like it’s sacred.

He spoils you with the quietest kind of luxury. Not just designer bags or black cards, but experiences no one else could give you— like a private boat ride at golden hour where he kisses your shoulders under the sun and whispers,

“I’d sail across the world if it meant I got to come home to you.”

He kisses like he means it— sweet, slow, and then suddenly desperate, like he’s just remembered you’re real and he’s terrified he might lose you.

His favorite thing is watching you sleep in his shirts, sprawled across his massive bed while the morning light catches on your skin. He’ll sit at the edge, brushing hair from your face, cheeks flushed.

“You look too good,” he whispers. “It’s unfair how much I love you.”

But sweet Jeongin has a possessive streak— one he hides under soft eyes and polite smiles.

At a friend’s yacht party, someone calls you “gorgeous” a little too casually. Jeongin doesn’t say anything at first— just wraps an arm around you, kisses the top of your head. However, you can sense the tightness in his hold and the smile that stops short of his eyes.

He draws you in later on the balcony.

“I don’t like people talking to you like that.”

You laugh gently, “He was just being nice.”

He leans in, lips brushing your throat, voice low.

“Don’t care. You’re mine.”

And then he kisses you like he’s trying to erase any memory of someone else touching your air.

He’s soft, but he’s also the kind of man who’d fight the ocean for you— and win.

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[invoicera1]

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[whump-in-the-closet]

Five Types of Living Weapon Whumpees

The guard dog -> loyalty has been ingrained into their bones, following their handler around like their shadow. No one dares stand against the organization because of the legendary dread surrounding this living weapon. They hardly say a word but every movement is calculated, eyes always darting, always watching. (“You always were their lapdog.”)

The loose cannon -> dangerous for both sides. Always talking back and never predictable, their value is dependent on their skill. If it wasn’t for that, they’d be dead a long time ago. Their loyalty is earned, not bought. No one wants to be on their bad side, walking on tip toe whenever they show up. And they enjoy it. (“What’s everyone looking at? Aren’t you happy to see me? I even brought my rifle!”)

The broken down -> most common type of whumpee I’ve seen. They’ve been overpowered and forced into the commission. They hate their handler more than anything else but see no way out. When they’re told to shoot, they don’t even blink. It’s always “yes, sir” this and “yes, sir” that. If they feel any sympathy, they don’t show it. They’ll do anything to avoid punishment and flinch at quick movements. Nothing they face on the field is worse than the cards they’ve been dealt. (“I understand, sir/ ma’am. I-I’m sorry.”)

The dissenter -> Usually recruited into the organization or joined as a last ditch option. Not necessarily against using their abilities or skill, they just hate being told what to do. As time goes on and their disobedience is punished over and over again, they grow reluctant. Bitter. With every order, they slip in a snarky comment. Roll their eyes. Anything to assert their own identity. Or what’s left of it. (“ah ah ah, you didn’t think i’d notice? The middle finger was a bit much. I’m afraid it will have to go.”)

The ghost in the machine -> known only by their codename by outsiders and by their number in the organization, they’ve been stripped of all humanity. They live, breathe, and think by their handlers orders. They’ve been told over and over again that they are just a weapon. And a weapon does what it’s told. Their anonymity is attached to the organization in the same way a gun is simply an extension of their arm. But at night they still stare up at the ceiling with a blank stare— did they ever a life before this? They can’t remember. (“It’s not like it’s a person. It doesn’t have feelings like that.”)