#bad credit score phones

[jrueships]

Bought one of my lil nephew giannis shoes for his birthday bcs he loves giannis and these are some of the ugliest fucking things I have ever laid my eyes on in my life. anyways it's his bday today so i gave them to him. but they are so ugly. he loves them

[tbh-entp]

There's a really spectacular feeling when you get pursued by the tribunal debt collection ppl to pay a bill from an unknown source but you know you pay like... all of your bills, so when you find out the company pursuing you, you call and they realize that they actually owe you 360chf. Also I love arguing on the phone, can I just say that.

[ceilidho]

hound dog

prompt: You pick up Ghost from a bar for a one night stand. Too bad Ghost isn't interested in a casual hook up. (nsfw, 6.7k) [based on this old post] [on ao3 here]

-

Rare is the day when a stupid girl doesn’t do stupid things.

This is just one of many such occurrences. Stepping into the dimly lit dive bar—the one miles from your place, reeking of tobacco and leather and motor oil, the noxious perfume of week old sweat and weed stinking up the joint, pardon the pun—with too much eyeliner and mascara on, and a skirt too short for you—and would you just stop fiddling with it? But you can’t because that would mean admitting that it barely fits over your ass, that putting on a skirt so short was a choice, an invite, a teasing little taunt to the men in the bar saying, what are you waiting for? I’m asking for it, aren’t I—

What’s that saying again?

Ah, yes. Choices made in anger cannot be undone.

It’s why you’re planted at the bat some six weeks after being dumped, two weeks after being ghosted for the third time in a row, a smile on your face despite your crumbling self-esteem. Pride hanging in tatters. Grimacing when you find the bartop sticky with congealed liquor, the residue sticking to your skin when you quickly lift your elbows off. But there’s a time for self-pity and a time for getting it the fuck togther. This just happens to be one of the latter times.

“What’m I gettin’ you?” the bartender in front of you asks, barely impressed with your get-up. Not even attempting to conceal his distaste when he eyes you up and down, lingering on the way your tits are practically spilling out of your top. 

“Do you have any cocktails?” you ask. Wrong question. The eye roll isn’t even suppressed for your benefit when he makes it clear to you, in no uncertain terms, that it’s whatever he can pour straight from a bottle or the fancy bar for cityfolk down the road. He says it like that, the word practically sneered out. Cityfolk. 

Nerves shaken, you sip at your red wine after he leaves you to your own devices, your glass poured straight from the box. It could function passably as lighter fluid if the circumstances called for it. Still, you swallow it with a positive attitude, emboldened by the knowledge that you’re here for one thing and one thing only:

to get fucked within an inch of your life by one of the greasy-haired, cut-wearing, cigarette-smoking men lining the bar. 

Even the thought sends a thrill down your spine. 

It’s an age old question, isn’t it? What’s a girl to do (when her love life’s falling apart / when her credit score just bottomed out because her ex-boyfriend ran up her credit cards behind her back / when her job’s steadily becoming unbearable but quitting would mean scrambling to find a job that’ll pay anywhere near to what this one’s paying her) to get a drink around here? 

Evidently, the answer isn’t to use a dating app; you can say that confidently after waiting around in fancier bars than this for several no-show dates. 

You’re feeling appropriately over the whole thing. Ready to call it quits. Uninstall all of the apps on your phone and hire a matchmaker or ask a friend to set you up with a coworker of theirs. But that’ll be later, down the line when you aren’t dealing with the issue at hand.

The issue being that—

you’re really fucking horny. 

Embarrassingly so. Enough that you were willing to travel miles away from home to avoid accidentally hooking up with anyone you might run into later on while out getting groceries or on a morning run. 

It’s just better to play things close to your chest. Keep your romantic life and your sexual exploits far apart (not that you’d know much about keeping things separate; you’ve never had much of a sex life to keep hidden) lest you get mired in a stickier situation than you’re comfortable being in. 

Despite the rough start, the bar you chose seems promising. There’s a man at the other side of the bar that keeps drawing your eye. It’s the hulking size of him at first, then the grime clinging to the folds of his skin, worn in from years of hard labor. He looks like a man fresh off a fourteen-hour shift or a fortnight spent on an oil rig in the middle of the Baltic sea, freshly washed ashore, kelp and barnacles still fused to his skin, not yet pried off. 

Rough is the only word you’d use to describe him. A face covered in nicks and old scars, his upper lip slightly puckered and scarred from cleft lip surgery. When he turns his head to say something to the bartender, you catch a glimpse of a cauliflower ear, the cartilage of his tragus and antihelix swollen and deformed. 

He’s exactly what you’ve been looking for. If you’d given it more thought, you think you could’ve conjured up an image of the man across the bar all by yourself. It’s like someone plucked him straight out of your head. Big and brawny, broad shoulders that you can imagine dangling your ankles off, and well-muscled arms that you can imagine digging your nails into. It would take both of your hands and extra to wrap around his bicep. The thought makes you shiver.

You try to catch his attention subtly. Looking over at him from under your lashes, quick, smoldering glances meant to draw his attention to you, so that he approaches you first. You keep waiting for the moment when he’ll notice your stare and hold your gaze, a question being asked and answered between your eyes before reeling him in with a coy little smile. 

But when a half hour goes by without a single glance your way, your hope begins to wane. 

He doesn’t look up no matter how many times you glance over at him. It’s frustrating; you know he feels the weight of your stare. His disregard is purposeful, deliberate; like he knows your attention is fixed on him but he can’t be bothered to so much as return your stare. You wonder if that means he’s got a lady at home, a little bird cooped up in his house that he’s more eager to get back to after he’s had a drink to take off the edge than flirt with some trussed up floozy at the bar.

That makes you squirm, self-consciousness rearing its ugly head again. Maybe you made a mistake coming here. 

It’s not as though you’re being completely ignored, it’s just that the caliber of men that have approached you so far haven’t really inspired much, carnally speaking. You’ve sent the few braver ones away, a half-hearted thanks but no thanks when they offer to buy you a drink. Most leave without a word, though a few mutter obscenities under their breath before shoving their hands in their pockets and stalking away. Bitch. Dumb cunt. 

Calling it a night feels like a natural next step. With the attitude you keep getting from the bartender and the way the only man you’re remotely attracted to refuses to so much as glance your way, it doesn’t feel right to stay out any longer. Embarrassment heats you like a low grade fever, warm in your belly. Wine sloshes around in your stomach when you slip off the stool, hunger now another pressing concern. 

You’ll ask him on your way back from the bathroom. If he turns you down after that, you’ll slink off into the night with your tail tucked between your legs. There’ll always be next weekend to try again. You promise yourself that because the alternative is acknowledging how defeated this entire experience has left you, no less disappointing than going on the same boring first date with a guy from Tinder. 

In the bathroom, you dab your face with water and stare at your reflection in the dirty mirror. It looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in years; finger smudges and white strains streaked across the glass. You wonder how many strangers have fucked in this bathroom over the years. The thought makes you grimace even more when you notice that the floor is slightly sticky, the ground sounding tacky beneath your shoes. 

When you come out, the man from across the bar is waiting by the door, so close that you flinch, eyes widening. The narrow hallway means that he’s barely three feet from you when you stand in the doorframe. 

“We leavin’ or what?” he growls, voice as deep as you thought it might be, gruff and husky. 

He’s just as imposing in front of you as he was from across the bar. Maybe more so. You’re forced to crane your neck to look up at him this close, lips parting on an inaudible exhale. There’s something about a brutish man that’s always taken your breath away; everything from the blunt chin to the pronounced brow. His face is flecked with pale, keloidal skin; rubbery nodules from old injuries. 

Dumbstruck, you can only nod, following behind him when he turns away from you, headed towards the parking lot out back where his truck is parked. 

You’re really doing this. You’re really doing this. That’s the only thought in your head when he unlocks his truck and pops the door open for you, waiting until you’re buckled in before slamming the door shut. 

He’s quiet on the car ride back to his place, unconcerned with getting to know you or defusing the tension in the truck. You can’t say you blame him. There’s a reason you chose a bar so far from home as a hunting ground. If you wanted to get to know someone, you would’ve met someone at a coffee shop. 

When you ask his name, he grunts it out like it’s an inconvenience. Simon. He doesn’t give you more than that, even when you awkwardly ask him what he does for work. Blatantly ignores your questions. The rebuff smarts for some reason, makes you frown and duck your chin to your chest, shoulders hunched.

His demeanor is so off-putting that halfway through the drive, you wonder if you misunderstood him somehow, if he means to drive you home instead of taking you back to his place (but that can’t be right, otherwise wouldn’t he have asked for your address?). It’s just hard to reconcile his churlish attitude towards you with his ostensible invitation to fuck. 

Maybe he doesn’t intend to fuck you at all. Maybe you managed to pick up the one serial killer in a twenty mile radius and stupidly followed him back to his truck without telling anyone who you planned to go home with. Your blood curdles at the thought, hackles raised when you imagine him sizing you up from across the bar, all prettied up and doe-eyed, easy prey. 

Your breathing picks up. “I, um…actually, c-could you…could you just drop me off at my place?”

Simon rolls his eyes so hard that it’s almost audible. “Not gonna kill ya, bird.” 

That doesn’t go a long way towards reassuring you, but you don’t dig your heels in and demand he take you home either. 

“Do you live nearby?” you ask, suddenly chatty. Why, oh why.

Simon looks over at you, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift. He drives a manual, you notice. A few too many seconds go by in silence. You wish somebody would just staple your mouth shut already. 

“Yeah,” he says finally, turning back to watch the road, taking a left turn up ahead without using his signal. So it’s that kind of drive.

You keep your mouth shut for the rest of it lest he decide you’re too much of a hassle and turn back. You’re poised right on the edge of something new and exciting, and the thought of that slipping through your fingers makes you feel a bit crazy. So many men before have shown you that same snap dislike. Like you’re tolerable over text or as a dimensionless photo, but not as a flesh and blood person, the real mechanics of you all wrong. It’s an intolerable thought—that people can only like you when you smile and keep your mouth shut.

Still, you’ll do it now, for a price. 

Part of you expects him to pull you into his lap when he pulls into his driveway and puts the truck in park. It’s what you’ve seen in movies. The rest of the night plays out in your head in piecemeal flashes; ravenous passion, hands tearing clothes off each other’s bodies, a shoe left on the porch in your hurry to get inside. Hungry, devouring; slick mouths parting for barely long enough to breathe.

Then Simon cuts the engine and gets out of the truck without so much as a glance your way, like you aren’t even there.

He still comes around to open the door for you. You frown at him through the window, affronted. Baffled at his continued nonchalance. Like even keeping your mouth shut isn’t enough to keep a man’s interest. Where you expected passion and fervor, you’re met with cool indifference. 

Simon pops the door open. “Get out.”

The house itself is nothing special. A two-story cookie-cutter house built in the seventies; weathered, beige-coloured vinyl siding and a neatly trimmed lawn, with a few patches of overgrown grass and weeds. There’s a trailer parked in front of the closed garage, a few planks of wood strapped down in the bed. When you follow him up the walkway, you notice how quiet the neighborhood is, and for some reason that makes you even more jittery. 

You stop in the doorway, frustration breaking your timidity like snapping an ampoule. “Do you even want to—” fuck me, goes unsaid. Too humiliating to even ask. But you ask anyway, the question itself implicit even in so few words. 

Dark eyes stare down at you, impenetrable. You’re struck by the sense of something primordial slithering under his skin. His expression is hard, his face carved from granite; when his expression shifts, it’s like watching tectonic plates create mountains, plates pushed upward by mantle plumes.

He fits a big paw under your chin, fingers pressing into the fat of your cheeks hard enough to make your lips purse. Your heart skips a beat when he angles your head from side to side, looking you over like a pet he’s considering bringing home. You almost go cross-eyed when he bends down, his forehead nearly brushing yours, so close that you can smell the scent of cigarettes clinging to his clothes, see the grease smudged on his face and the folds around his eyes. 

A grin flickers across his lips, gone as it came. “Yeah. I do.”

And doesn’t that tie your stomach in a knot? Your nerves in a pretty bow? 

Inside, his house is just as unremarkable. You’d know in a single glance that a single man lived here; a functional, no-frills living space. Nothing more than a worn couch, a TV, and a few pieces of obvious hand-me-down furniture. It’s hard to glean anything from the minimal decoration around his place, but he doesn’t give you much of a chance to look around. That’s not the point of why you’re in his house. 

“Eat anything yet, bird?” Simon asks from the kitchen, opening the fridge without purpose. It looks like more of a reflex than anything, the first thing he does the second he gets home for the night and the last thing he does before going to bed. From the size of him, it makes sense; his body is muscle on muscle, covered by a healthy layer of fat, just a surface layer over the bulk beneath. 

You shake your head. “No.”

“Have a bite, then.”

“I’m not, uh, hungry though,” you deflect rather than saying the obvious, which is, I came to your house to have sex, not make sandwiches at the kitchen counter together. 

He shuts the fridge door, pinning you with his stare. “Your call. Could’ve used the energy though.”

You swallow. 

The first thing you do after he herds you into the bedroom is try to pull him into a kiss, cupping his cheeks and standing up on your tiptoes. Before your eyelids flutter shut, you catch a glimpse of a cocked brow. Then you press your lips to a slack mouth that doesn’t move no matter how much passion you infuse in your kiss and feel embarrassment flare up in your guts. 

Bastard. You should’ve expected that he wouldn’t kiss you back. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, breaking the facsimile of a kiss and dropping back down onto your heels. 

You flinch when he grabs you by the back of the neck and reels you back in, forcing you back onto your tiptoes, “Don��t be,” grunted against your mouth before fusing your lips together. A pathetic keen climbs up your throat, eyelids slipping shut. 

His greed leaks from him like tar, his kiss so messy and violent that you’re almost too jarred to do anything apart from hang on. Teeth clack against yours, a horrid sensation, the lust in your belly abating long enough for the real world to slink back in and you get flashes of it: hands winding around a thick neck, a scratchy cheek against your lip when he twists his head to angle your noses better, a tongue shoving into your mouth unceremoniously, no finesse at all. Straight to the main point. 

A shudder wracks you from head to toe when you try to break the kiss only to find the hand on your neck firm, holding you in place. The subtle reminder that he can do whatever he wants with you, that you willingly went home with a man big and strong enough to pin you down and fuck you however rough he wants. 

“Simon,” you whine, squirming against him, gasping a breath and his name again when he wrestles you back into the kiss. “No—Simon—”

“Stay fuckin’ still,” he snarls against your lips, and you freeze, knees going weak when his fingers dig into your jaw to hold you in place.

The endorphin rush nearly makes your vision white out. A sudden winter storm, the blood rushing to your cheeks and the tip of your nose, your breath coming out quick and choppy. Lungs barely filling up with each inhale. 

“Get this off,” Simon growls, tugging on your skirt when you don’t move fast enough. He doesn’t wait for you to catch up, content to wrench your skirt off himself instead, your panties along with it. 

It takes your breath away, how fast you go from clothed to partially nude. Trying to match his fervor is a losing game, so you just try to keep up. Your hands tug at his belt, desperately trying to undo it, and he chuckles when he notices; big hands paw at your ass while you shakily pop the buckle out of the first loop. 

He takes over after that, popping the button on his jeans one-handed. 

“Wanna handle the rest?” he prompts, an eyebrow jutting up, expectant. Lazy with his arrogance; oozing rugged masculinity. It’d infuriate you if it didn’t get you so hot. 

Your fingers are numb by the time you pull his jeans down, kneeling at his feet and gazing up at him with wide eyed devotion as he kicks off his boots and shakes the pants off his legs, nothing under his jeans. His pale white thighs are dusted in fine blond hairs, mottled with burns and scars and old, faded cigarette marks, like someone used his legs as an ashtray. The thought makes your throat close up.  

He shucks off his shirt while you stare at the shaft heavy with blood hanging between his legs, drooping with its own weight. Flushed red at the head and streaked with dark veins, leaking a steady drip of precum. The hair at the base of his dick is of a darker shade, gold like straw. 

Your stomach swoops at the sight, dropping to the pits of you. You swallow. Maybe you’ve bit off a little more than you can chew. A lot more.

As if sensing your unease, a wide hand is suddenly firm on the back of your head, urging you closer. “Gonna give it a kiss?”

It’s not a question. You know that and you know that you’re way out of your league; that if you panic now you’ll flounder. So instead of fighting it, you lean forward and press a shy kiss to the weeping head of his dick. 

You lick your lips instinctively when you draw back, lapping up the precum smeared across them. The taste makes you wrinkle your nose. It’s salty; bitter. Not altogether pleasant. 

Simon wraps a hand around his dick and holds it to your lips. “Open your mouth, bird. Get me nice ‘n wet.”

A shudder rolls through you, but there’s little else you can do except part your lips and squeeze your eyes shut. It’s a struggle to fit more than just the head in your mouth, his dick too wide to take more than that. Your eyes water at the stretch, the musky taste of his cum overwhelming. 

Any experience you’ve had before this pales in comparison. It’s like the first time all over again. His cock is heavy on your tongue, instantly making your eyes water. The grip he still has on the base of his cock tells you that he doesn’t expect you to swallow the whole length (an impossible task; you go cold with dread at even the thought), but Simon doesn’t hesitate to grip your head firmer when he feels you falter, forcing you to take as much as you can.

When you gag, he shushes you. “Keep at it—you’re fine.”

You wonder if he thinks by saying it, it makes it true. You’re very much not fine, struggling to breathe through your nose and suck him off without scraping his cock with your teeth.

Your exhale when he pulls you off his cock by your hair is full of both relief and trepidation. Your lips feel swollen and tender when you touch them with your fingers. 

“Can we please have sex now?” you ask, dazed enough to be bold. 

Simon cracks a smile at that, endeared somehow. “Gotta get up for that, bird.”

You have to brace your hands against his chest when you get to your feet, the blood that rushes to your head making you wobbly. Even on your feet, he’s so much taller than you, a behemoth. Men like him have always been your type, but Simon is really in a league of his own. 

Glancing up at him from under your lashes, you bite your lip. You’ve seen that in movies before, starlettes bringing men to their knees with just a look. Coquette; demure. It’s harder to replicate than you thought, but you’ve never rehearsed this before. This is a one-time, live performance. The culmination of everything you’ve ever read or watched or studied. 

You keep up the ruse of being sexy by crawling onto his bed on your hands and knees, dropping down onto your elbows once situated in the middle of the mattress. The debauchery of wiggling your ass back at the man who took you home from the bar would overwhelm you if you weren’t playing a part right now. Role playing. This isn’t who you usually are, but if it’s only for one night, you can force out the self-scrutiny and timidity. 

Silence hangs in the air like a bubble, waiting to be burst. You fight the urge to look over your shoulder at him. 

Then Simon exhales, breaking the silence. Goosebumps ripple down your arms. 

The mattress dips under his weight when he settles behind you, hands immediately sinking into the flesh of your ass and pulling your cheeks apart. No preamble. You open your mouth to say something, but thick, coarse fingers are already dipping between your thighs and playing with your hole, sinking a finger in up to the first knuckle. 

You breathe out shakily, shoulders tensing. The sheets reek of him, musky and ripe; you concentrate on that instead of the fingers penetrating you, getting you ready for his dick. Your walls squeeze tight around his fingers when he forces another one in. 

When he finally feeds his cock into you, the stretch is nearly unbearable. The sharp stab of pain that accompanies it almost makes you flinch away, but Simon drags you back by your hips.

“You’re not going anywhere, bird,” he rumbles. “Relax. It’s going in.”

What can you say to something like that? 

His whole frame presses you into the mattress, the breath forced from your lungs. Bigger now that he’s got you on your belly. Suddenly making two hundred pounds seem less abstract, more real. He bullies as much of his cock into you as he can, paying no mind to the way you squeal and kick your legs. 

“Real tight cunt,” Simon grunts, humming with his pleasure when his hips punch forward and your pussy squelches around his length. So lewd.

His knees on either side of you keep you trapped in place, nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. All you can do is lie under him and let him rut between your thighs, gasping for breath with every thrust. The sweat is slick down your back, half yours and half his. 

“Ya let other men fuck this cunt, bird?” he asks. It sounds hypothetical, like it’s said half to rile himself up, and though it prickles at your nerves, you don’t complain too much because he fucks you rougher after the words slip out of his mouth. 

When you don’t answer him though, concentrating more on filling your lungs and not biting your tongue off, he grabs your face and twists your head until you’re looking over your shoulder at him, neck aching with the strain. 

“Answer me,” he demands, sounding almost pissed off. 

“N-no—”

“Good,” he grunts. Satisfied.

His words should piss you off. How dare he ask you about fucking other men as if he were your husband or boyfriend. You have half a mind to cuss him out, but then he pumps his hips forward and your face goes numb from pleasure. Electric impulses zip up and down your skin, sizzling your nerves. 

Besides, maybe it’s hot that he’s acting like you belong to him. Like you’re his; his girl that he picked up from the bar after a long shift, eager to go home and lay her out on the bed so he could fuck his pretty girl into a tongue-tied stupor. It certainly does it for you, a thin filigree of pleasure winding its way down your spine. 

It’s an intoxicating fantasy—being wanted by a man in a real, visceral way. It’s one you’ve never gotten close to before, never even grazed with the tips of your fingers, no matter how far you stretched out your arms. You don’t know what men see when they look at you, but it can’t be anything worth keeping. 

He fucks you like he wants to pry you open and leave a piece of him inside. A big hand fits around your neck and tightens; a collar, a manacle. 

Hard to feel anything but grateful though. It’s everything you wanted but never thought you’d get out of this experience. You expected to feel like a body on a butcher’s block, hacked limb from limb. Marble ribbing on the inside. Brought to a high only to be left out in the cold after. 

You never expected apotheosis. You never expected the filth murmured into your ear, the lurid, coarse diatribe in surround sound, all perfect fuckin’ pussy, can’t wait to shove my tongue inside, gonna make you suck my cock while I eat that perfect cunt out—

All—

Perfect fuckin’ girl; you don’t give this to anyone else, do ya? Knew you were gaggin’ for it back in the bar, but wanted to wait ‘n see; turned the rest of ‘em down, didn’t ya? Not a fuckin’ slut. Jus’ for me—only hungry for my cock—

It’s too rough, too much. Overpowering. Musk and body heat and raw strength, his forearms planted on the mattress on either side of your head. The scent of him suffocating, smothering. Heady. In your pores, on the back of your tongue, in your belly. He’s everywhere.

If only you could put it into words. The fire in your belly growing so wild, so out of control, that it threatens to incinerate you. Thinking dangerous thoughts—that you could be his, that he wants you so bad he can’t stand the idea of anyone having you before him, that he’ll kill anyone that touched you before, rip them apart with his bare hands, cut out their hearts and slice it ‘em up real thin so he could feed you the strips with his hands—

“Fuck—” Simon pants in your ear, pulling his cock out of your cunt. You whine, clenching down on nothing, suddenly empty, until he turns you roughly over onto your back and grabs one of your flailing ankles, hooking it over a burly shoulder. “Cunt this good oughta be locked down. Should just chain your leg to the bed so I can wake up to this pussy every day. Would’ya like that, bird?”

Like it? You think wildly—

Keep me, keep me, keep me, pleasepleaseplease.

The leg not hooked over Simon’s shoulder gets pulled around his hip, spreading your legs wider to accommodate the width of him between them. The scour of his voice threatens to erode you, smash you to pieces. There won’t be anything left after he’s done with you. 

He’s just so big. Built like an ox, broad and solid. When he braces his forearms on either side of you, his biceps bulge, skin pulling taut over the muscle. The dark hair of his pits is stark against pale flesh. 

Blood roars in your ears and over you, he moves like a wave, filling you up again and again. You’re swimming in uncharted waters now; gazing out into an unfamiliar and dangerous sea. A swell this big might take you right under. 

Too bad for you, the hazy adumbration of danger in his words is pitted against the maw in your soul, the deep, cavernous hole that yawns wider with each passing year. 

For years now, you’ve had the same dream: overlooking a sea of evergreen peaks illuminated by a silky moonlight hue, winding a long, narrow road darkened on both sides by tightly clustered trees, your arms wrapped around your chest. Cold layered like a skin, sinking deep into your bones, cold wet like a damp hate; trees clustered around your wandering soul, spurned into wandering like a little undead ghost with teeth clattering in Morse code, saying: so many wrongs done, it is almost incomprehensible.

Is it too much to ask to be wanted? 

You need it like air. 

The issue is that—

more than horny, you’re really, really fucking lonely. 

For years now, you’ve had the same dream: a dream of being a lighthouse keeper, skin saltwater slick, seafoam on the backs of your knuckles, slathering over frozen fingers clutching at the gallery railing. Beckoning something to you.

What it is, you do not know.

“Look at tha’,” Simon says wonderingly, grabbing your face and yanking it towards him, forcing you to meet his eyes again. “Just needed to get turned out on a fat cock, didn’t ya?”

“Yeah,” you gasp. “So good, Simon, ohmygod—”

“Only this needy for me, right?” The glint in his eye is terrifying.

“Only you, only you—”

“That’s right,” he growls, bearing all of his weight down on you, forehead to forehead. His sweat-slick chest slides against yours, cock buried so deep that you can taste him at the back of your throat. Dark eyes stare down at you with an intensity that steals the breath from you, glossy like he’s rapidly losing the ability to be consciously present, but ever attentive to the pleasure rippling across your face. 

When his cock grinds into the soft plug of your womb, his eyes narrow when yours bulge, and he batters that spot until you seize up and spasm around him. His buzz cut gives you nothing to hold onto, so you dig your nails into the bulky planes of his back instead. 

“Fuck—hold on, Christ, fuck; here it comes,” he spits, the veins in his neck protruding when he grits his teeth. 

Your blood goes red hot when he rams deep into you, each thrust deliberate. Hips losing their rhythm. You don’t notice the first spurt of cum, too preoccupied with the smell and weight of him blanketing you, infiltrating every crevice of your body, but the second is hot. Scorching. You ignore the screaming alarm at the back of your head, barely coherent enough to parse out its meaning. All you can focus on is the warmth spreading inside you and your own walls pulsing around his cock, milking his release out of him. 

Time blurs. You lose some of it. 

You don’t come back until Simon rolls over onto his back, taking you with him. His cock is still buried inside of you, his cum running out in rivulets, pooling at the base of his dick lodged at your entrance. You’re going to be messy when he finally pulls out. 

Despite the ache already setting in, you feel reborn. Renewed. The old, dead skin flayed off. You can’t imagine how you’ll feel when you’ve got your energy back, when even tracing your eyes across the other side of his room doesn’t take tremendous effort. The traces of him littered around the room make you curious. A half empty glass. Steel-toed boots sticking out of a half-opened closet. A damp towel crumpled into a ball on the floor. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. There’s no use trying to fill the gaps in. Whoever Simon is won’t matter in the light of day. You repeat this to yourself until it sticks. 

When you try to get up, planting both hands on his chest, he pulls you back down, forcing your head onto the pillow of his chest. “Simon, the sheets are wet—”

“I’ll deal with it later,” Simon says, eyes already shut, on the verge of falling asleep. “Now shut up. You’re ruining the fucking afterglow.” 

You wake up the next morning covered in bruises and bite marks and dried cum between your thighs and on your belly, so sore that even twitching your finger hurts.

It takes awhile for everything to come back to you. When it finally does, consciousness snaps back into you, discomfort giving way to quiet self-satisfaction. You managed to do it. Your first one-night stand. A real milestone. The tacky sheets beneath you are proof enough of your accomplishment. 

The sadness slithers in when you realize that it’s over. One and done. In a half hour or so, the man plastered against your back and breathing heavily on the crown of your head will wake up, groggy and bleary eyed, and side-eye you until you put back on your clothes from the night before and slink out, tail tucked between your legs. A few hours delayed from when you were planning to throw in the towel at the bar, but still. In the end, it always comes around. 

A gruff voice at your side tells you to quiet, bird—s'too early for your bitchin’ before manhandling you onto your stomach and shoving his raw cock into your cunt and it’s only now that it dawns on you that you were too horny last night to remember to ask him to use protection. 

The thought is wiped from your head when he bucks his hips forward, impaling you on his swollen length. You lose track of time after that. 

Breakfast is an informal affair. Cereal from a box and a bit too much milk, and a cup of instant coffee. You wince when you sit down across from Simon at the kitchen table, your inner thighs still tender and pussy sore from the battering it just took. If it strokes his ego to see how gingerly you sit down, he doesn’t show it. 

It’s weird sitting across the table from him after last night. Hard to just leave it unaddressed, the truth simmering in the air. The red marks across his back make you wince, cheeks heating. Thin crescent marks and scored nails. It’s hard to reconcile yourself with the girl from last night. 

He eats in silence for the most part though, ravenous after the night before. Doesn’t comment on the state of his shoulders or the way you shift on your chair. Not even bothering to make eye contact with you. Your appetite takes a bit of a hit watching him shovel food into his mouth, hardly even pausing long enough to breathe, but you’ve seen plenty of hungry men eat before. 

Still though, silence has always had a way of getting under your skin. You’re not comfortable around it, prone to chattering. So you can’t help the way your mouth opens and the words come out involuntarily. 

“Do you do this a lot?”

“I don’t shit where I eat,” Simon grunts dismissively.

The expression makes you grimace. “So do you usually pick up girls elsewhere or—”

The look he gives you could melt the flesh off your bones. You realize your misstep, interrogating the man you just fucked about his other hookups. Best not to ask questions. It’s not like you’ll see him again after this. 

These last few moments are bittersweet. There won’t be many opportunities like this in the future, mainly because you don’t think you’re cut out for one-night stands. Last night proved that. As good as it was—and for as many times as you came, another time in the wee hours of the morning when Simon rolled over on top of you and shoved your legs apart to eat you out (a midnight snack)—in the light of day, you feel world weary. Like something monumental happened and passed you by. 

You almost want to thank him for making it special, but the anxiety around finally pissing him off is more than you can bear. You want to leave on a good note. It’s better this way. You’ll never have confirmation about whether he’d eventually grow tired of you like everyone else. Never know if he’d one day manage to lose interest in the real you, not the made up sex kitten from the bar. 

It’s better this way.

You tell yourself that when you push your chair out and stand up, hands fisting in the oversized shirt Simon made you wear before leaving the bedroom. “I should get going.”

He stops eating, staring up at you. His eyes are inscrutable, and the longer he stares, the less you understand his look. 

You shift from foot to foot. “Thanks for… I had a good time.”

Simon doesn’t say anything, but when he drops his spoon into the bowl, the metal clang makes you flinch. 

His silence leaves you off balance, like you’ve overstepped somehow. All motion stills under his scrutiny. 

“Got somewhere ya need to be?” he asks, a vague, almost menacing undercurrent in his voice. It’s said like a warning. There shouldn’t be anywhere else you need to be. 

“I…—don’t you want me to leave?”

He looks distinctly unimpressed. “You gonna walk home like that?” His words make you tug at his shirt, pulling it down to cover your thighs.

Your whole life has been made up of misunderstandings. Missed opportunities. Men who you thought loved you vanishing into thin air. You’re a poem often lost in translation. A long game of hide and seek; people run towards you then feign right, leaving you in the dust. 

Whatever this is, you don’t recognize it. 

You swallow on a dry throat. “…No?”

Simon searches your expression for something before he nods, satisfied. “Then sit the fuck back down. Finish your damn breakfast.”

You sit back down (wincing when you do) because the alternative is admitting that you don’t know what’s next. That you’re out of step again, but this time without that sinking feeling in your belly. A wild fluttering instead. That thought again that maybe you’ve bit off more than you can chew. 

What’s that saying again?

Ah, yes. Choices made in anger cannot be undone.

[luveline]

Ahh I’m so obsessed with stripper!reader and Spencer!! Do you have any more thoughts about them you’d be willing to share, maybe just a snippet of their life together? So so in love with them and your writing in general

i got a different request for them that I lost about reader struggling to afford essentials and so I thought I’d combine them, I hope that’s ok!! <;3 fem, 1.1k

cw food insecurity/ poverty 

You attempt to save money, but the ten dollars you don't spend on shampoo and conditioner gets used on painkillers. You hide fifty dollars in a book and try to forget about it, but your shoes split open on the walk to work, and it takes all afternoon to find it again. You try so hard to stretch your paycheck and something new makes it impossible. 

So it's a cold night in late December and you spent all your money for food on the gas bill. Your stomach hurts, but at least your nose isn't that horrible stiff cold that distracts. 

It's not just that your stomach hurts, though. You feel miserable about everything, and you know you need to ask someone for help. You've thought about selling something, but you already pawned your watch, and everything else is inconsequential. 

I could sell my phone… but how would I talk to Spencer? 

It's the stupidest thought you could've had. More importantly, how would you communicate with work? How would you call your electric and gas company, or talk to your landlord? 

Spencer would be so sad if he knew you’d sold your phone to pay for food. He’d probably be upset knowing you considered it. And you won’t get paid for another three days, so unless you can somehow live off of olives and cherries from the club bar, you have to ask Spencer for money or get a loan. With your credit score, one situation is more likely than the other. 

You bring your phone across the pillow and sigh before clicking on his contact. He’s practically the only number you call. 

“Hello?” you ask. 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hello, handsome,” you murmur, staging an affect of someone who couldn’t be more unbothered by the world. 

“Yeah, hi. You okay?” 

You don’t want to butter him up. It feels dishonest. You should be straight forward. “Spencer. You know I hate asking you for things.” 

“Yes, it’s the only bad thing about you.” He sounds like he’s smiling. You can imagine him on his couch reading something obscure, or watching one of his sci-fi shows, curls in his eyes, grey pyjamas too short for him riding up his calves as they tend to do.

“But I need– um. I don’t have any money?” You don’t mean to phrase it like a question. “Like. Okay, so, I promise you I am not an irresponsible person, just, my gas bill went up and I didn’t know, but it’s so cold I paid it anyways, and now I have three dollars. Um. Total. And I haven’t eaten all day and I’m sorry I’m asking, but I just need like twenty dollars until I get paid on Tuesday. Could you let me borrow twenty dollars, please?” 

“Do you want to get takeout?” 

You cringe. “No, like, twenty dollars for groceries, Spence.” 

“No, I understood. That’s fine, I’ll happily give you twenty dollars. But you said you haven’t eaten today? And I miss you, so it’s an excuse?” Now he’s the one making questions out of statements. “I can get us Thai food.” 

Your stomach pangs at the thought. No matter how much you hate this, you know he loves you enough to want to bring you dinner, and you really will pay him back, so he might as well. “Yeah, please. I’d love to see you, Dr. Reid.”

“I’ll be quick,” he promises. 

He isn’t. You wonder if he’s forgotten you and your rumbling stomach, curled into a c-shape under the sheets. It’s warm, at least, nearly too warm, the blade of your hunger threatening to drive you mad. It’s not a nice feeling, depending on the kindness of a friend to see you through, nor is it very pleasant to be this hungry. You’ve gone hungry a hundred times, and this is the only time you’ve ever had someone you trusted enough to turn to during that time to ask for help. What if Spencer’s decided he isn’t comfortable with your lending after all and he doesn’t come over tonight? 

You’d been looking forward to seeing him again. It’s almost worse than the hunger. 

Just as you’re thinking he’s decided he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore, he lets himself in. 

Your apartment is small, consisting of three rooms. The bedroom, the bathroom, and the living room kitchen combination. He lets himself into the living room with a cacophony of rustling and a called, “Hello!” followed soon by a muttered swear. 

You laugh under your breath.

“Are you coming out here, or do you want to eat dinner in bed?” he asks. 

“I haven’t decided yet.” 

It’s quiet enough besides his arrival that you’ve no need to shout.

“Well, stay there if you want. Have you been drinking anything? I brought iced tea and some stuff for you to have breakfast tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” You force yourself to sit up. One moment you’re looking at the closed door and the next you’re squinting against the light of the kitchen, Spencer in the doorway like a silhouette against it. “Hey, Spence. You’re taller than last time.” 

“I’m the same size as always.”

“You’re still wearing your shoes. That must be it.” 

Spencer takes off his shoes and crosses the short distance to you. “Hi,” he says, taking your hand as he sits down. His fingers are freezing. “Sorry I took a while.”

“Sorry for asking you for money.” 

“It’s okay. It’s not something to worry about. Everyone has to ask a favour sometime.” 

His hair is wind blown, his eyes watery. The cold weather has nipped his pert nose a rosy pink and he’s smiling at you with chapped lips, unaware of or uncaring about his own circumstances in the face of yours. “You okay?” he asks, his pretty brown eyes narrowing, eyebrows pinching together at the starts. “You can’t just not eat all day and not tell me.”

You nod tightly. It’s humiliating to be in this position. 

He softens. “Did they tell you the rate was rising? It’s illegal in Virginia–”

You take your hand from his. “They sent me a letter I didn’t open. I knew it would be bad news.” 

Spencer looks down at your knees. “I know that you’re used to doing things by yourself, but you don’t have to anymore.”

“‘Cos you look after me,” you say quietly. 

“I’m trying to.” 

You laugh and jog your joined hands to make him look up. “Okay. Look after me some more then and give me a hug. I’m too warm, and you’re freezing.” 

He hugs you tightly, quick to rub your shoulder blade with his thumb. “Stay here, okay? I’ll bring you a plate.” 

You cling to him for a few seconds, until hunger wins, and you send him off into the kitchen again. 

[theambitiouswoman]

Wealth Building: Money Topics You Should Learn About If You Want To Make More Money

Budgeting: This means keeping track of how much money you have and how you spend it. It helps you save money and plan for your needs.

Investing: This is like putting your money to work so it can grow over time. It's like planting seeds to grow a money tree.

Saving: Saving is when you put some money aside for later. It's like keeping some of your treats for another day.

Debt Management: This is about handling money you owe to others, like loans or credit cards. You want to pay it back without owing too much.

Credit Scores: Think of this like a report card for your money habits. It helps others decide if they can trust you with money.

Taxation: Taxes are like a fee you pay to the government. You need to understand how they work and how to pay them correctly.

Retirement Planning: This is making sure you have enough money to live comfortably when you're older and no longer working.

Estate Planning: This is like making a plan for your stuff and money after you're no longer here.

Insurance: It's like paying for protection. You give some money to an insurance company, and they help you if something bad happens.

Investment Options: These are different ways to make your money grow, like buying parts of companies or putting money in a savings account.

Financial Markets: These are places where people buy and sell things like stocks and bonds. It can affect your investments.

Risk Management: This is about being careful with your money and making smart choices to avoid losing it.

Passive Income: This is money you get without having to work for it, like rent from a property you own.

Entrepreneurship: It's like starting your own business. You create something and try to make money from it.

Behavioral Finance: This is about understanding how your feelings and thoughts can affect how you use money. You want to make good choices even when you feel worried or excited.

Financial Goals: These are like wishes for your money. You need a plan to make them come true.

Financial Tools and Apps: These are like helpers on your phone or computer that can make it easier to manage your money.

Real Estate: This is about buying and owning property, like a house or land, to make money.

Asset Protection: It's about keeping your money safe from problems or people who want to take it.

Philanthropy: This means giving money to help others, like donating to charities or causes you care about.

Compounding Interest: This is like a money snowball. When you save or invest your money, it can grow over time. As it grows, you earn even more money on the money you already earned.

Credit Cards: When you borrow money or use a credit card to buy things, you need to show you can pay it back on time. This helps you build a good reputation with money. The better your reputation, the easier it is to borrow more money when you need it.

Alternate Currencies: These are like different kinds of money that aren't like the coins and bills you're used to like Crypto. It's digital money that's not controlled by a government. Some people use it for online shopping, and others think of it as a way to invest, like buying special tokens for a game.

[piratefishmama]

Finders Givers | Prompted by @aellafreya

Curiosity.

Some may call it a dangerous thing. Some may argue for its ability to lead you to the truth of things. Some may claim it leads you to temptation, to regret, to suffering.

Steve Harrington, was curious.

He’d found the source of his curiosity while visiting a bar he’d planned on purchasing. It wasn’t a huge establishment. Or a well known one. Not exactly big bucks in the making but it was sat in a prime location atop a cellar that led to miles of underground tunnels which frankly.

He wanted.

He wanted them and not for legal reasons either. The tunnels weren’t on any official city map, predating them, Robin and Nancy, his right hand, and his researcher, found them by pure chance while on a fun little jaunt through the local libraries.

Fun being a stretch for Robin, but she needed to hang out with another woman her own age. And so did Nancy.

But he wanted those tunnels, they stretched all over the damn city, with just a little bit of work they could pop up anywhere, perfect for many a less than legal activity.

So many by-chance happenings had led him to that ratty little bi-fold leather wallet. Wasn’t even quality leather either. It looked old too, black with an embossed devil head pattern that probably came from some truck stop somewhere.

He could have just handed it in to the owner he was trying to buy out, could have even thrown it away, but curiosity was a devil sometimes. So there he was, sat down at one of the many tables in that little bar while one of his people did the majority of his work for him (honestly what’s the point of having people if they cant do your work for you?) perusing the contents and feeling more and more depressed by the second.

First, there was a wad of coupons and a single quarter in there instead of bills, which was never a good sign.

Second, a single, solitary, sad, badly rolled little joint.

Third. A single bank card with Mr E J Munson on it. Not even a credit card, just. A debit. Which statistically didn’t mean great things about this person’s credit score. Could just mean the owner was trying to avoid debt, but… doubtful.

Fourth, a stick of gum.

Fifth, a guitar pick.

Sixth, a library card, oof couldn’t even afford to buy the books.

An expired driver’s license desperately in need of renewal registered to Edward Joseph Munson, the photo made him look like he’d just gotten out of jail or some shit, his hair a terrible buzzcut and eyes too big, too dark, and too haunted to be anything else, but then that was just sometimes how those photos turned out. He could have been a totally innocent man!

It had his address on it, a few descriptors, height half an inch shorter than Steve himself, brown hair, brown eyes, male, 140lbs at point of issue (he’d been seventeen), date of issue, issuing State, along with a date of birth, clocking him at a year older than Steve, twenty nine, and… that he was apparently a donor.

And finally, a month old pay stub from a local fast food joint. So minimum wage worker at best.

It was… kind of sad really. Steve actually looked up the address on his phone, just for curiosities sake, because he was already in deep enough to look through a guy’s wallet, might as well google the poor saps address, just in case he felt charitable enough to drop it off on the way back to the high rise.

Oh there was that deep sadness some people might yell ‘I told you so’ about.

It wasn’t bad. But it sure as shit wasn’t good either. Steve knew of at least six bottom dweller drug dealers that operated out of that block, which explained the joint.

And also made him sadder about the joint, the weed probably wasn’t even all that good.

“Hey Robbie?” His long time friend and platonic soulmate turned her bored gaze over to him, she’d been playing angry birds on her phone, he could hear the war cries of those birds every time she launched one. “We done any charity this quarter?”

“Mmmmmnmnnnnoooooo?” It always looked good to the public for a rich guy like him to do charity work. Wouldn’t look too deeply into him if he was seen publicly doing good. “Unless you count telling Dustin to go wild in that nerd shop last week as ‘charity’, your child nearly emptied the damn shop.”

“Nah that was his birthday present, can’t call that charity.” He wasn’t going to reiterate that Dustin wasn’t his child. He was basically mom at that point.

“Alright, so what’re you thinking?” She sat up, turning to face him properly, putting her phone screen down on the table “Sponsoring something? A drive? There’s this cute little animal shelter in Japan called HEART I read about last month, ran by just a woman and her husband working with volunteers, could be a good thing to donate to? Helping animals is always good for PR.”

“…Those sound way better than what I was thinking, this guy’s wallet is bumming me out.” The expression on her face could have probably put grumpy cat to shame. “Pick one of your choices and do something with it, whichever you want. Imma do something about this wallet.” It didn’t have to be a big PR stunt, the fact that he was doing it on the DL as well? It always came back around all sunshine and roses because people believed it was totally selfless.

Didn’t do it for PR, couldn’t be doing it for PR, he hadn’t announced it.

It was always for PR. Always. The reaction just took a little longer to circulate and people were suckers.

“Just give it back to him? That should be charity enough. It’s like nine bucks to replace a driver’s license, you’re saving him nine bucks. Charity.”

“For someone who started out poor, you’re awful, Robin Buckley. Deal with this bar thing for me would you? I’m going to go on an adventure.” Curiosity was a powerful thing!

“Alright but if you come home with another stray I’m suing!”

“That was—”

“Seven times Steve! Seven!!” It wasn’t his fault that he struggled to see teenagers down on their luck. And four of them were two sets of siblings so it technically counted as one time per set, and one came with Nancy so—!

“Fine!” –So, he wouldn’t argue.

Empires weren’t built with throw away people who held no loyalty to you although he did have many of those on staff. Empires like his were built on the foundation of family, and while the one he’d grown up with was a little bit lacklustre, the one he’d built was perfect.

So he wouldn’t argue, he knew she loved them just as much as he did, in her own way, and that any additions would be welcomed with open arms.

—

Steve didn’t take the car. Although he probably should have, he knew at least three of his people would be following him, keeping an eye on him for safety reasons. At a distance of course but they’d be tailing him for the sake of safety.

That neighbourhood wasn’t safe. No matter if he had a weapon on him or not, it wasn’t safe for people like him.

People with visible wealth.

The watch on his wrist alone was probably worth more than some of the buildings in that neighbourhood, and it wasn’t exactly early in the day either. The sun setting made for an excellent ‘rich person in the wrong goddamn neighbourhood’ future police report.

But he made it to his destination unscathed.

The fast food joint from that pay stub. He even double checked the address on it. The chances of this Edward Munson being there were low, but that was fine, he just wanted to check it out. The atmosphere in there, the management styles, he’d hang out in the corner, get a cheap coffee and people watch for a while. See how fun Edward's work life was so he could add it to his decision making tree.

Curiosity really was one depressing little bitch baby.

The manager on staff was loud. Rude. Sexist. And he was pretty sure he’d made one of the staff cry because she’d hurried out very quickly rubbing at her face and sniffling. The temptation to put out a hit on him? High. But no, that was a lot for one asshole… maybe he’d just send Jane out, let the kid take his knees out.

She deserved a little bastard ba—

Someone beat him to it. A commotion later started by someone with a lot of hair, hair that’d been put up in a net and half hidden beneath the uniform’s god awful mustard yellow cap. It’d been two hits, the guy hitting him, and the manager hitting the floor, blood pouring from a very broken nose, spectacular.

The rest of the staff looked on in wide eyed horror, one yelping “Eddie, holy shit!” as the man pulled his cap off to reveal all that hair. “You’re so fired!”

“Didn’t need this shit show anyway! Chris an I quit, peace out assholes!!” Eddie. Eddie. Steve rose to his feet. Godawful coffee forgotten in the face of the mystery Edward, who caught his eye once before continuing on his way, all big brown frankly beautiful Bambi eyes, less haunted but still so big, full, kissable lips, and god, so much hair, going in the same direction as the blonde who’d disappeared to probably go and cry.

Eddie did need that job. He really needed that job. Steve had seen the state of his wallet. He needed that job, or at least he needed the paycheque that came from that job. Couldn’t even afford to buy his own books! He rented them, he rented books.

Jesus.

God, Robin was gonna judge him so bad for the person he was about to become.

Part 2

[ceasarslegion]

By the wishes of a few people, here's my advice post about living alone. Keep in mind I'm speaking from the perspective of a canadian urbanite, so this will not apply to absolutely everybody in every kind of culture, economy, living situation, those in rural areas, etc. This also is not assuming wealth disparities are a matter of personal attitude, i KNOW it's complicated. Get back with that shit right now, you know damn well this advice assumes you are able to achieve the financial means to live on your own and is not disparaging anyone who legitimately can't.

Let's cover the basics first.

Source of income:

This seems rather obvious, but your income should be regular and reliably the same or similar on a monthly basis. The most obvious way to achieve this is with a job, and I'm sorry but minimum wage is not going to cut it on your own anymore, which means you're going to have to swallow your pride and accept that you'll likely have to work for some industry or corporation with a dodgy moral record. Get used to it. There is no point in self-flagellation, the world is complicated, just take the 50-60k a year office job, no one actually expects you not to and nobody will hold it against you when the "moral" option is soul-crushing retail. The real world really doesn't give a shit what you have to do to afford a comfortable lifestyle as long as you do what good you can within your abilities, no one in the real world expects you to sacrifice your own wellbeing for a cause.

Salaried positions are your most reliable because you'll always pull the same amount, while hourly pay comes with the ability to pull overtime pay in exchange for more shifts, but if you run out of sick days you'll have to spend the rest of the year taking unpaid time off when you need to call in. Whichever one you choose depends on what's available to you and what's right for you physically and mentally, I can't make that call for you.

You also need a credit card. That is non-negotiable. If you don't have a credit score, you can't sign a lease. Bad credit is better than no credit. We can argue until the cows come home whether or not credit scores are good or bad, but it's just reality that you're going to need one. The good news is it's fairly easy to build credit from no credit: you just have to pay off your credit card in full on time every time. The bad news is it's equally as easy to tank your credit score, you just have to miss one or pay it too late, and it's very hard to build good credit back from bad credit. So don't see it as free money, only spend as much as you can pay back, and if you don't have credit right now, start with small things like lunch and little treats that you immediately pay off.

Looking for a place to live:

Once you have your regular and reliable source of income, you can start looking for your place. There's a few things you should keep in mind:

-Draw up a budget for how much you can spend on rent and bills. That includes all basic living expenses: rent, utilities, food, internet, phone, hygiene. Compare how much you make per month to what you can spend. 1/3 to 1/2 of your salary is a bit more realistic to expect to spend on rent alone nowadays, so work within that range when you apartment hunt. Think of everything when you're budgeting, like how much do you spend on haircuts per month? You probably didn't think of that, because I didn't either at first.

-Apartment buildings with some/all utilities included often have higher base rents. You have to keep in mind that this is so the landlord can balance out the utility bills of the whole building, which are unpredictable expenses and on them to pay every month. If you don't know how to budget yet or don't know how to do so with unpredictable bills, I highly recommend trying to find a place with utilities included so you know EXACTLY how much you'll need to pay every month and can plan in advance

-Older buildings tend to be both cheaper and more likely to have centralized utility systems, which means they have to include it in the price of rent because there's no way to tell who used how much of something. If it's your first place alone, you'll probably be tempted to get the brand new, expensive building down the road, but it won't actually make much of a difference when you move in. You will love it regardless.

-Never ever sign a lease until you've either seen THE unit you're considering, or one of the show units that is exactly the same layout. The last thing you want is to go off online photos only to move in and find out the building has a mold problem. You can arrange personal tours by contacting the building manager or the landlord directly. Phone calls are the best way to do this.

-If you want the unit after seeing it, you know you can afford it, there's nothing funny about the place, apply IMMEDIATELY. Places are usually on the market for a few days before they're snapped up by a new tenant, you have to strike while the iron's hot.

-If you've decided on the place you want and had your application accepted, read the lease carefully before you sign. Many places require tenant insurance that meet specific policy requirements, have registration rules about long-term guests, outline how the parking works, quiet hours, smoking rules, mail, laundry, all the way down to what kind of barbecues are allowed on your deck in the case of mine (I am in a wildfire danger zone, so any types that produce embers are strictly prohibited for fire safety reasons). Ask any question that comes to mind about the lease. Not everything in a lease is some human rights violation just because you don't like landlords, keep in mind you're living in the same building as dozens of other people, so there has to be ground rules established for everyone's sanity.

-Internet is often not considered a utility so you'll have a hard time finding any place that includes it. You can arrange to have your wifi set up in advance of a moving date on a specific time and date, do this right after you sign a lease so you don't forget. They won't charge you until you're actually hooked up to the network.

-If your utilities are NOT included, get those set up in advance too. The main ones are HVAC, water, and electricity. The companies that do this vary depending on where you live and what's available, so shop around online once you've signed your lease and sign up as soon as possible. The last thing you want is to forget this and then move into a dark freezing apartment with no water.

Budgeting:

After your living expenses are covered, you should have a comfortable amount of financial wiggle room leftover. If you wouldn't, the place you're looking at is either too expensive, or you're being overcharged elsewhere. It's completely normal for living expenses to take up most of your budget these days, you're doing just fine in the same boat as everybody else if that's the case, so don't panic yet. If you have absolutely NOTHING leftover though, then you're out of your price range.

You also need to set money aside for fun and saving. Do not forego fun money, your brain will try to kill you with hammers and knives if you never get or do things for yourself. And if you're on your own, you're the only one providing that for yourself now. And a solid building base of savings will only help you in the future, whether you lose your job, have an emergency, or even need a down payment on a house later in life. Don't be a doomer about your circumstances or the socioeconomic and generational cards that were dealt to you, chip away at it a little at a time. And don't fall for social media's insistence that anybody with anything at all is some bourgeois degenerate or that being fortunate enough to be able to have upward mobility makes you some ultra wealthy shithead, working towards a comfortable standard of living for yourself does not make you a rich elite or a bad person. You're working towards the standard we should all live as, not exploiting the poor or being a class traitor. I feel the need to add that last part since we're on the website of "struggling art students in NYC are bourgeois that are just bad with money and having a gaming computer makes you upper middle class." Don't listen to a word any of those people say, I know it comes from a place of very real hurt and pain for them but that doesn't make it grounded in absolute reality for absolutely everybody.

Social needs:

If you're by yourself, there's gonna be a lot more work you have to put in for your social and entertainment needs. I can not stress enough how important it is to give this the time and work it needs, do not neglect this.

Lots of libraries have clubs you can join that will get you out of the house and meeting new people regularly. They're either free or very inexpensive. This is a great place to start.

Take advantage of technology we have now. Hop on discord calls more frequently, make sure you're talking to your friends on the regular and try to make plans as much as you can.

Also, I advise finding lots of things you can do by yourself. You will be spending way more time alone than you ever have before, so find single-person hobbies. Go thrifting, get into knitting, go explore the city, read lots of books, do puzzles, just don't lock yourself inside all day in your free time. Even if you're doing it alone, going out and seeing that the world is bigger than your apartment and your workplace is very good for you.

Misc advice:

You don't need a conventional coffee pot maker. Single serving will suit you just fine.

Cleaning is easier when you have a routine. It doesn't all have to be done on the same day of the week, but having a regular schedule of what gets cleaned when for non-daily chores will help you keep on top of it. And please, god, don't neglect your cleaning and hygiene just because no one lives with you to see it. On that note, spray bottle all purpose cleaners are your best friend for daily spot cleaning and you should deep clean your washroom around every 2 weeks in my experience since that's where you'll be doing most of your personal hygiene. Also make your damn bed, yes you'll just get back into it at the end of the day but having a major part of your space neat and tidy will do wonders for your mental health.

Don't buy the cheap garbage bags. Some things you really do want the expensive shit for.

If you don't have a car, delivery service/rideshare subscriptions ARE worth it and legitimately economical in the long run. I do wanna circle back to square one and say that yes, most of them like prime and uber do have dodgy moral records, but sometimes you just gotta swallow your pride and accept that. Once again, no one in the real world expects you to spend your entire day on public transit looking for toilet paper that isnt 30 dollars a pack or lugging 50 pounds of groceries back on a bus just for a cause. It's not the fault of someone who needs these services for their quality of life that they do the things they do, don't put that responsibility on your or other's shoulders when the fault lies at the top of the corporate ladder.

When you're budgeting for living expenses, expect your income to be at the lowest and your expenses to be at the highest. I expect 2 call ins per month and to need to spend the max amount i have on groceries every time, that way I never fall short and never have to cut into my savings that I've dubbed my "oh shit, I'm broke" money. Your emergency reserve may look tempting to you, but as someone who has been in a position where they had to drain it to nothing in the past because of an unforeseen financial emergency, you REALLY are gonna want that untouched if and when shit hits the fan. Life is unpredictable, prepare to roll with the punches so they don't knock you out.

A few people wanted to be tagged in this, so here you go @lilsnatch and @kisstheashes <3

[eetherealgoddess]

ꨄFavorite Professorꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere College Au

❦Never give a low score to a delinquent❦

Sanzu Haruchiyo & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread!

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Japanese language is red

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There will be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Favorite Professor

Y/n meets the stoic gaze that doesn’t match the hostile aura of the male standing at her desk.

“What is this?” Her student known as Haitani Rindo asks, shoving his phone in her face as she eyes the screen. She leans over her desk as she crosses her legs, interlocking her hands.

“Ah yes, your midterm exam? I’ve actually wanted to talk to you about your dropping score, Mr. Haitani. I’m concerned as you used to be one of the highest graded students along with your friend Mr. Akashi. What happened?”

“What do you mean what happened? Obviously, your grading skills are lacking.” He states calmly. Her eyes widen slightly at the deflection before returning to her normal gaze out of professionalism.

“I assure you that my years of schooling and even being accepted in this profession was not in vain. It’s not my place to say, but usually when situations like this occur, there’s a distraction going on outside of the classroom.” She responds, only for him to glare at her before crossing his arms. She sighs.

“Mr. Haitani, the only thing you can do is try to achieve a higher grade with the assignments and final. I also have extra credit discussion boards posted online for your submission.”

He only narrows his eyes at her before walking away from the desk, the chill in her spine leaving along with the energy that follows him. She breathes out a sigh before returning to her laptop, completing her work.

Rin walks side by side with his brother and Sanzu as they head to the cafeteria.

“Didn’t go well?.” Ran chuckles as he observes his brother’s body language. He ignores him as they walk through the doors, irritation engulfing him as he thinks about the professor’s words.

“Wanna do something about it?” Sanzu smirks. The younger Haitani side glances at his friend, giving a thought to what those words could mean.

The next day, Y/n sits at her desk that morning, eyeing her screen as she types on the keyboard. She halts her movements as she sees the younger Haitani walking in with a coffee cup in hand.

“Hello, Professor. I wanted to apologize for my outburst yesterday. I was disappointed with the grade and took it out on you. Please accept this coffee as my gratitude for your leniency on my actions.” He says with a sincere look as he hands her the coffee. Her eyes widen at the gesture as she takes the coffee.

“Thank you for that, Mr. Haitani. That’s very mature of you.” She responds smiling as she sips from the cup. He nods, a smirk forming as he sits in his seat, to her confusion though she ignores it and minds her business.

Thirty minutes later, she finishes the coffee, eyeing the clock and seeing that she has an hour and a half before she lectures her first class. She’s usually at the university about two to three hours before to create her lectures and make sure everything is set in place for her classes, which is why the coffee was a nice surprise. His presence wasn’t so bad besides the chilling feeling of eyes observing her, but thats probably just her imagination.

A few minutes passed and sweat began to form as she started breathing heavily. A heated feeling builds in her core as her body begins to tingle. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as her body tenses. Wetness forms as she squeezes her legs together, her clit gaining a heartbeat as her nipples harden. Her hands start trembling as anxious thoughts take over.

What’s going on? What’s happening to me?

“How was your coffee, Professor?” Rin smirks as he walks from his seat, two of her students walking in to the room before they stand in front of her desk, one holding a baton.

“What is this? What did you do to me?” She questions with shaky words.

Before anything else is said, Sanzu sits at one of the seats in the auditorium closest to her desk as he props the phone up, yet doesn’t hit record until it’s the correct time.

Ran walks behind her desk, swinging her over his shoulder as Rin shoves everything off of her desk. She hits Ran’s back as she kicks her feet, growling curses as she’s suddenly dropped on the desk resulting in pain for her bottom and backside.

Both men force her on her stomach as her feet hit the ground.

“We should’ve drugged her with more than the aphrodisiac.” Sanzu states as he crosses a leg, his face in his palms as his elbows meet the table.

“We need her awake for this to work.” Ran responds, lazily smiling as he pulls her skirt up, showing her panties. She gasps as she attempts to break free from Rin’s hold on her back and wrists.

“If you keep struggling, we’ll have to knock you out for a bit. Do you want that?” Rin asks, smirking at her distressed state. She shakes her head as she attempts to relax her shaking body.

“Th-this! Whatever this is, it’s not okay! The dean…!”

She screams as a painful sensation forms after a smacking sound. She turns her head back to see what landed on her ass to cause so much agony. Her eyes widen when she sees Ran pulling back the baton before slamming it against her bottom once more, resulting in another shriek. Rin removes her sweater as he balls it up and shoves it into her mouth. Tears fell from her eyes as she could feel the throbbing skin bruising. He crouches to meet her face to face, smiling as he licks his lips.

“Now, Y/n. You should be thanking Sanzu because that stimulant is going to help us make this a lot easier for you.” Her eyes shut as another yelp leaves her lips, muffled by the cloth as the baton meets her aching ass again.

“Look at him and say thank you.” He grabs her head, turning it to face the smirking pink haired man who waves back. She doesn’t respond, too humiliated to comply. Another smack from the object causes her to grunt as more tears fall from the pain.

“Thank you!” She muffled before her head was turned back to the Haitani.

“This is how it’s gonna go. We’re going to take this video of you, then so you don’t get caught seducing us, you’re going to fix my grade. If not, then kiss this job and your reputation goodbye.”

She stares at him wide eyed, disbelief from the cruel behavior he’s revealing. He stands from his position, unbuckling his pants as he reveals his erection. He pulls the sweater out of her mouth and motions for her to begin. Ran pulls her panties to the side, having already pulled his girth out, readying it to her entrance. Her legs clench, conflicting emotions occurring as arousal prowls yet the situation at hand being unfortunate for her job title.

“Time is ticking, Professor.” Sanzu taunts as he presses the record button. Reluctantly she opens her mouth as Rin eases in until her lips reach his base, gagging slightly as he adjusts. Ran pushes in, shoving his erection all the way to the base. He grabs her hips as Rin holds her head, beginning to throat fuck her as saliva drips from her mouth, mixing in with the precum.

“I always knew, since the first time you walked in, you’d be good at nothing but taking dick. You suck at grading.” Deciding that they can edit whatever they want out later, he taunts her, grunting as he accelerates his hips, thrusting hard as his tip hits the back of her throat each time, her eyes squeezed shut. His blonde hair flipping against his neck as he moves.

She releases a moan she was holding back as Ran moves faster against her backside, skin smacking skin as his cock hits her cervix. The shame in enabling the behavior hitting her as she cries out once more, the aphrodisiac causing her to feel weighed down by the pleasure, her legs clenching as the front of her body aches from her position over the desk.

“Wow Professor, you're really sucking me in. Is this what you wanted? To take advantage of your students?” Ran chuckles as he continues his assault, breathing heavily as well as a few moans slipping.

Sanzu, with the phone still recording in his hand, walks closer to get a better angle of the view, biting his lip as he ignores the tightness in his pants. Observing the distressed yet aroused woman as her body rocks from the contact with the younger men. He’s already gotten enough footage to show the dean if needed, but he decided to continue recording for their own personal endeavors.

“You look like you were made for this.” He states, as he watches her mouth engulfed with cock and saliva mixed with semen, her pussy full and thighs shaking as Ran squeezes her hips.

“I’m gonna cum.” Rin hissed as he thrusts harder, releasing after the last two. Ran follows not long after as he pressed against her g-spot, the pressure causing her to come undone all over his cock. Finally, Sanzu ends the video as they all get up, leaving her on the desk.

“You better get ready for your class, Y/n.” Sanzu says before they readjust their pants and walk out. Ran stops before he leaves, turning to face her.

“Change my grade while you’re at it, yeah?” He then walks out. She lays there breathing hard as she slowly pushes herself off the desk, tears falling as she begins to sob.

“Fuck.” She whispers as she throws her sweater on and pulls down her skirt, walking to the bathroom to fix herself up and leave the building.

When she’s done washing her face and wiping down her legs, she walks to the teacher’s lounge, claiming to be sick and having thrown up so she can be excused for the day. Succeeding she reaches her car, immediately going on the grading system’s site through her phone and changing both of the Haitani’s grades without having to touch Sanzu’s considering his already high score. Her forehead leans against the wheel as she stares numbly into space, pulling back as she moves her gear shift stick to reverse out of the parking lot and head to her apartment.

After a few days of staying home, she decides to resign, too sick from the memories of the dreadful event that took place. She hides herself from the world as she scrubs her body till it's raw routinely, disgusted with herself as she stays in her room. Suddenly, she’s torn from her thoughts as she hears a knock at her door.

She walks from her bed and opens the door. She gasps before attempting to slam it back closed, a hand preventing it from shutting.

“You thought you could just leave?” The younger Haitani hissed as he stepped into her home, his older brother and friend walking in as well.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” She exclaims, angry at the audacity. Sanzu shuts and locks the door behind them as Ran shoves his hands into his pockets, staring amused at the reaction she’s giving.

“What do you want?” She growls as she moves, backing away from them while they glare at her like a predator stares at its prey.

“You’re not quitting.” He states.

“How is any of that your business? Get out! Matter of fact, how the hell did you find my apartment?”

“Not until you agree to get your job back. Tell them you made a mistake.”

“This literally makes no fucking sense! What is wrong with you? I changed your score, what is the problem now?”

“The problem is that you’re trying to run. When you were bent over that desk, you were claimed as our slut. You can’t go anywhere.” Sanzu responds with a stoic expression, her disbelieving how serious they’re being at the moment.

“What the fuck are you talking about? What, so you got a crush or something? News flash, I’m nobody’s. You got that video and you got what you wanted so get out of my house.” She responds angrily, crossing her arms as she grits her teeth.

“That’s alright, you look like you were made to be a star anyway.” Ran states as he smirks. She glares in response.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t play dumb Professor, I know you’re smarter than that.” Sanzu says, rolling his eyes as he takes a seat on her couch.

“Hey, get off of that you’re not welcomed here!” She turns to glare at all of them. “None of you are!”

“As I said, it’s alright.” Ran says as he holds up the phone, screen facing her as he posts it to a porn website. She cries out as she runs to grab it, failing as he steps out of the way.

“I think social media would respond great if we post it there.” Sanzu says as he leans back, crossing his leg.

“No! Stop! F-fucking…! Please, don’t do that and just delete it off of there.” She almost sobs as horrific scenarios of her family, friends, or anyone else she knows reacting to the video, including the dreadful thought of future jobs or even her old job completely shut off from her being able to apply.

“Go back to work, Y/n.” Rin says as he leans on the counter connected to the same wall as the door.

“F-fine, just please… Please delete that and don’t post anything else.” They glance at each other, Sanzu hopping from the couch as he walks over to her, hand placed on her head as he gives a peck to her forehead. She eyes them in fear and disgust as they stroll to the front door.

“We’ll be seeing you more often, professor. So, be prepared.” Rin says as he faces the doorway, exiting the building as the door slams shut.

[reyadawn]

Worlds Apart

*image not mine, credit goes to owner*

Summary: A chance meeting of the lead singer of Bad Omens has the reader questioning her current relationship...

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x OFC, Joakim "Jolly" Karlsson x Tan (OFC)

Warnings: 🔞, language, kissing, hair pulling, degredation, fingering, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), cream pie, basically filthy smut 🤷‍♀️

Word Count: 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤣

******************************************

The top was down to the red Convertible that I rode passenger in, wind blowing through my hair as I rested my chin on a folded arm perched on the car door. The sun shone brightly overhead and it was a scortching 87° in L.A.

A faint buzzing sound reverberated from the car and I heard an audible sigh escape from my best friend Tan, who was in the drivers seat.

"You realize that's the fifth time Jake has blown up your phone in the last twenty minutes? Just fucking talk to the guy", she said, her own dark locks billowing in the wind as we continued the drive through the suburbs.

"No. Not until he stops being a controlling twatwaffle", I replied, still gazing out at the scenery. Smaller houses started merging with much larger ones and I realized we were in the rich part of town.

"Girl, he's a man. That'll never happen. That's just wishful thinking on your part. Good thing we're headed to this house party because you need to relax", Tan said, glossy full lips curled into a smirk.

"What's that supposed to mean?", I snapped, tossing my best friend a dark scowl. Tan only chuckled.

"You're wound too fucking tight. I mean, I know Jake sucks in the bedroom but maybe if you had a proper orgasm you'd feel better", Tan laughed.

"Tan!", I exclaimed but she only laughed harder. "Where exactly are we going?".

"Noah Sebastian's house", she deadpanned. I stared at her in shock.

"I'm sorry but Noah Sebastian? Of Bad Omens? How the hell did you score an invite to his house and why am I being dragged out here?", I asked, damn near choking on my saliva. I suddenly glanced down at my attire feeling very selfconscious.

"Oh, I'm fucking Jolly. I didn't tell you that? Besides, you're my brst friend so you coming with me is a given", she replied nonchalantly. I could only blink owlishly at her like she grew three heads. Tan tipped her head back and laughed and I simply shook my head in amusement.

"You failed to mention this, bestie", I smiled in return.

"We'll discuss my lack of communication later because we're here", she said, parking in a driveway that was already housed by at least six other cars. The house was two story, modern and an off-white color that was completely surrounded by privacy trees and bushes.

I got out of the car and smoothed the front of my red low cut blouse that Tan insisted I wear complete with black skin tight leggings and flats. Casual but not over the top. Tan rolled her eyes at me before grabbing my hand and pulling me behind her.

Entering the house, we stopped in the foyer to slip our shoes off. There was a dark cradenza along the wall that housed a modern day lamp, a wicker bowl filled with random sets of car keys and cell phones and a framed picture of a black dog to which I smirked at. Above the cradenza was a large mirror with a dark wooden frame.

After we dropped our keys and phones into the basket we made our way around the corner and into the livingroom. Two leather couches were divided by a large rectangular coffee table that was scattered with drinks of all sizes and flavors along with red solo cups and random bowls filled with chips and candy. Black curtains covered the windows and a large cieling fan was turned on full blast overhead.

All the members of Bad Omens were seated and engaged in conversations with a few other guys I didn't know. I shot Tan a worried look but she only shrugged in response before pulling me once again in her wake.

"Tan! Hey, karaste!", Jolly said, emerging out of the kitchen to scoop Tan into a spinning bear hug, breaking the hold I had on her. His long hair was neatly combed and pulled half up. His white tshirt clung to his lithe frame, legs encased in dark denim and black biker boots. Definitely Tan's type and I smiled at them.

"Hello, ladies", a deep voice said behind me. I turned, my body crashing into a very broad chest as a pair of heavily tattooed hands grabbed my hips. I had to crane my head back almost all the way to my shoulders to look up into the face of one Noah Sebastian. His long hair was neatly combed and hung loose down to almost the center of his chest and the long sleeve white shirt he wore was pulled up his forearms revealing more tattoos. His dark chocolate eyes roamed over my face and his full lips pulled back to reveal a mouth of perfectly straight white teeth.

I swallowed hard, my thighs pressing together and my heart hammering in my chest.

"Don't mind her, she just has brainrot", Tan said, coming to stand at my side with Jolly's arm slung over the top of her shoulder. I shot her a dirty look, earning a chuckle from Noah and Tan smirked.

"Let me give you a tour of the house, Angel", Noah said, his hand stretched out in invitation. I glanced down at his hand, noticing the size of his palm, the length of his fingers and I shifted on my feet, my thighs pressing together and liquid heat pooling into my panties. Good thing my leggings were black. Noah chuckled softly at my movement as if he could sense the effect. My mind briefly flashed to Jake but seeing as his attitude sucked of late, I shook him from thoughts and took Noah's hand.

I glanced at Tan over my shoulder who merely blew me a kiss and gave me a thumbs up. I shot her a dark look and flipped her off as I watched her disappear with Jolly down a hallway on the other side of the kitchen.

Noah led me up a staircase that opened to a series of hallways. We hooked an immediate left and I stopped in the hallway to admire thier albums in frames that decorated the wall. Noah turned to me and regarded me quietly as I looked at each album that was showcased.

"I don't know you, Noah, but I'm proud of what you've accomplished", I said softly, running my fingertips over the edge of the frame of one. Noah gently reached for my hand and motioned for me to follow him and I did without hesitation.

The last door on the left at the end of the hall was Noah's as he led me inside. It wasn't an overly large room but it was big enough to hold a book shelf on the wall followed by his bed and then gaming desk complete with professional microphone and gaming chair. His walls hung framed copies of thier albums.

The sound of his bedroom door shutting had me jumping and I turned to see Noah lock the door handle.

"Is this a habit of yours? Dragging girls to your room that you just met?", I asked, crossing my arms under my breasts. Noah slowly sauntered closer to me and I turned, backing myself against the wall next to his closet door until Noah's chest was eye level. He raised his arms, planting his hands on either side of my head and lowered his head until his lips hovered over my own. He shoved his thigh between my own, the pressure to my clit causing me to whimper and drag my hips over the hardened muscle.

"Needy little thing aren't you? Look at you, grinding yourself on a man you just met. How desperate you must be. Poor thing. Your're clearly not being satisfied", Noah taunted, running his fingertips across my cheek.

"That's none of your business", I fired back, glaring up at him.

"Oh, but it is, Angel. Your body has already betrayed that fact. Let me show you how a woman is supposed to be touched", Noah sneered and lowered his full lips to mine. His lips were soft, pliant as his tongue traced my bottom lip to silently ask for entry. I opened my lips to him, letting his tongue explore and taste my own. My brain short circuited and I worked myself harder on his thigh as a hand came up to wrap around my neck, the other tangling in my hair.

"Come for me, Angel...open those pretty eyes and look at me when you let go...", Noah said, squeezing my throat just a little more. I barely registered Noah's face as my orgasm hit me, my body nearly convulsing in his arms. "Good girl".

Noah pulled the top from my body and kneeled to peel my legging from my legs leaving me in just my red lace lingere. He let out a low whistle as he gave me a once over before going back to his knees and pulling my panties off.

"Look how wet you are, Angel...you're soaked and all I've done is kiss you...let's raise the stakes", he said, thrusting two long tattooed fingers inside my dripping cunt, curling them. I threw my head back against the wall and moaned, my thighs clamping around his hand. In and out his fingers plunged, thumb working my already swollen clit. I squirmed and whimpered, my breathing labored as I fought for control, for breath.

"Come on, Angel, give me one more...give me one more and you can have my cock", Noah said, fucking me faster with his fingers. At his words, my release hit, cunt clamping around his fingers. I screamed, my hands going around his forearm and he slowed his ministrations.

Noah lifted me off my feet, my legs instinctively going around his waist. He brought a hand between us to line his cock up with my core and pushed himself inside me until I felt him at my cervix. I thrashed in his arms as he gave me no time to get used to his size as he fucked me brutally against the wall. Short, hard, deep thrusts as his hands gripped my hips that I was sure was going to sport bruises. My arms wrapped around his shoulders, thighs squeezing his hips as his cock jackhammered inside me, relentlessly hitting my cervix.

I couldnt speak, the overstimulation rendering me speechless. Noah slipped a hand between us to thumb my clit and I cried out.

"Let me hear you, Angel...come on...let me hear how fucking good you feel...bet that asshole boyfriend of yours can't fuck you like this, huh? You're mine now...you belong to me...my own personal cock sleeve...fuck, you're so tight...gonna' come soon", Noah said, breathing ragged.

I couldn't do anything but let him rail me against the wall, my body damn near on the verge of blacking out.

"What's the matter, pretty girl? You fucked so dumb you can't speak? That pretty head of yours empty? Brainrotting? Nothing but empty fucking space?", Noah teased and picked up his pace, rubbing my clit harder and I arched my back off the wall as the final thread snapped. My release coated his cock and balls at the same time he roared out his own and filled my cervix with thick ropes of come.

******************************************

A few hours later, when I could finally walk straight, Noah and I went downstairs and into the kitchen for something to eat.

"Go find Tan. I'll throw together a BLT and some chips for us", Noah said, kissing my cheek. I wandered out of the kitchen and down the hall I saw Tan and Jolly disappear down earlier. First door I came to, I knocked and cracked it open just enough to see Tan on all fours on the bed. Jolly was behind her, one hand on her hip and the other in the center of her back to press her into the mattress. Jolly's snap of his hips had Tan screaming and fisting the covers and I slowly closed the door, tip toeing back down the hall.

Entering the kitchen, I went up to Noah and wrapped my arms around his waist as he finished preparing our meal. Noah paused to plant a kiss to my temple.

"You find Tan?", he asked softly. I nodded.

"She's currently getting railed into the next century so she'll be a while", I smirked, popping a chip in my mouth. Noah laughed and it was a beautiful sound as I followed him to the livingroom.

"So...you gonna' ditch the fucktard you're with to be mine?", Noah asked as we sat down on the couch to eat. I paused mid-bite of my sandwhich and looked over at him.

"You want me to be? Think we put the cart before the horse", I smiled.

"I definitely want you to be. We already know the physical chemistry is there. I want to see the rest", Noah replied, caressing the side of my face.

I smiled and nodded, the future suddenly looking a little brighter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@lilhobgobbler @livingdeceasedgirl @concreteangel92 @darling-millicent-aubrey @lma1986 @thefallennightmare @artificialbreezy @amourtoken

[playingdxngerous]

Extra Credit

Word Count: 2.2k

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Warnings: spencer reid smut, praise kink, hand kink if you squint hard enough, age gap (teacher and college student), digital penetration, oral f! receiving, angst bc the beginning is kinda sad ig, happy ending, just a ton of praise basically, also i didn't proofread so probably some mistakes here and there

~For my delusional girls, like me~

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.

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"So, for homework I just need you to read the next 5 chapters and write me a summary. Tell me how this relates to transcendentalism in literature. Don't forget to use the study guide from this previous test." Professor Reid says as he walks across the room, handing out the graded tests. He gets up to your table and quickly flips your paper over as he hands it to you. You know it must be bad if he hides the score from your peers. You turn it around to see a circled 47 with the words "u ok?" written next to it. You look up and he's completely across the classroom, continuing on his rant about the homework. Still, he is looking right at you. How does he know?

Your mind traces back to the night before. You're on the phone with your boyfriend in the process of being broken up with. Followed by, of course, your parents fight growing louder and louder within the walls. You look out your door and see them yelling at each other, throwing their hands in the air after every sentence. Last night was not a good night, especially since you had to spend almost all night studying for the test you just failed. A score of 47. How?

The class continues on like normal for the next 30ish minutes. Each tick on the clock is just another second you must force your tears to stay in.

"Okay just don't forget that homework guys. It's really important that you know this for the final." His voice comes back into focus. He dismisses the class. People start to trample over you as you put your stuff into your bag, crumbling the test. Professor Reid walks up to you, propped up against the table with his hands. "Mind to see me for a sec?" He asks concerned.

"Look, if it's about the test I'm sorry. It was just some careless mistakes and I won't ever do it again. I'm okay." You say as he guides you to his desk. Once again he leans against the table to get to your height. His suit stretches out with his arm, his button up shirt and tie becoming more visible.

"I know it wasn't just some careless mistakes. You're usually a straight A student. You've never gotten below a 90 on one of my tests."

"I was just being dumb, I'm sorry." You look down in unexplainable guilt.

"Don't say that about yourself, you're such a smart girl," he requests. Your stomach drops at his validation.

You try to laugh it off, "You're really overestimating me right now Mr. Reid."

"You think I don't notice when something is wrong? I know you and I know you aren't just being dumb. Talk to me." He says, ready to listen.

"I didn't know you paid that much attention to me." Your eyebrows furrow.

"I do," he grows quieter, "Noticed you weren't sitting with your boyfriend today too."

"How did you even know we were together?" You puzzle.

"How could I not?" He gasps with a smile. "It's kind of obvious you know. The way you look at him and all."

He really does pay attention.

"He broke up with me last night. Cheated on me too."

"I'm so sorry, I wish I could make it better. It's really seeming to affect your mental health right now." He responds concerned.

"Yeah, it's whatever. It's not just him being a problem right now so I don't really care. If anything, I'm just numb."

"It's not the group of girls beside you, is it?" His voice speeds up with a higher pitch. "I will fix it immediately if you ask me to."

"No, it's just my parents and stuff at home." Tears sting in your eyes.

"Is there something I can do?" He inquires.

"Extra credit maybe?" You shrug.

"I can do that. What do you have in mind?"

"I don't know just-" your voice breaks off as a tear falls out. "I'm just really stressed right now.” You wipe away the teardrop, yet more start to join it. He brings his hand up, curling his index finger to wipe the preceding drops. With no thoughts in your head, you accidentally lean in and cradle him into a hug. He allows it, wrapping his arms right above your waist. Seconds go by until you realize what you’re doing.

"I'm so sorry. Oh my god, why did I do that?" You pull away rapidly.

"Hey," he grabs your arm, "I don't mind. You can come to me for anything." He catches your eyes with his soft gaze, taking away any sadness left in you.

"So extra credit?" You clear your throat.

"Yeah um," he snaps out of it, physically shaking his head. "Just don't worry about it okay?"

"Are you sure sir?"

"Yeah." He gulps. "And the homework too."

You hug him again and he grabs your hair, massaging into your scalp. You squeeze tighter, never wanting to let your teacher go. This hug has been better than anything your ex boyfriend or parents have ever provided.

Like a scene out of a movie, he leans down and kisses the crown of your head. Tears once again stream down your cheeks at his loving touch, drying up as they fall onto his button up shirt.

You pull your head away to look at him, nothing but softness in his eyes. You place your hand on his cheek, feeling his slight stubble in your palm.

"Kiss me?" He asks in a hoarse whisper. In what feels like ages, you both unconsciously lean into each other. Slow and steady. His lips fit perfectly against yours. Your heart skips a beat.

The thought of him being your teacher rings through your head, making you pull away out of embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Hey stop, it's okay." He assures.

"This is so wrong. You probably didn't want that and only kissed back because you feel bad for me." You cry out.

"You know we both enjoyed it. Plus, I'm the one that asked for it to begin with." He assures.

He's right. You did enjoy it. More than you probably should have. It got your mind off everything else.

"I'm so sorry Mr. Reid." Feeling like a crybaby, your eyes drown your face once more.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay." He says almost unintelligibly fast.

He begins to kiss your head all over, letting his lips fall randomly along you. He moves to your forehead, then trails down to your neck. You instinctively grab his hair and let him continue. He makes it back to your lips and you sloppily return the favor. Each second you grow hotter. A slight whimper escapes your lips as he slides his tongue into your mouth. The taste of the two of you combines, the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted. His tongue slow dances with yours and he warm breaths begin to escalate onto you as he pulls away. His eyes remain closed even when not on your lips. He shortly returns, faster than ever. Passion floods the both of you. It flies in the air, warming up the world around you.

His hands find your waist, which he grabs to pull you closer. Friction rises in you below your skirt, so you squeeze your legs together to release it. This does little to no help, as the way he devours your lips turns you on more than ever. He grabs your right leg and hoists it over his hip. With the skirt being pushed up from this action, you begin to grind against his crotch with only your underwear and his slacks in between.

You then follow up with the other leg. He places his hands behind your thighs, his strong arms growing in size as he holds all of your weight up. You grab his biceps and squeeze. You’ve never imagined yourself admiring your teacher from so close, but it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

He places you on his desk, pushing random papers and pens aside. With your knees up, your skirt slowly slides down your thighs. He has no other choice but to look you up and down with his starving eyes.

"Still up for that extra credit?" He smirks and bites his lip.

"Been dreaming of it forever Reid."

"Are we forgetting that I'm still your teacher even when you beg me to fuck you? It's sir." He squeezes your thighs.

"Okay sir," you say sarcastically. "Why don't you get on with it then. Make me forget all about my ex you were probably so jealous of."

"Stay quiet for me like a good girl and maybe we won't get caught, how about that?" He pulls your head up by your chin.

"You just don't want to admit it." You say right before he collides his lips with yours for the millionth time.

"You just really want that 47% to stay huh?" He laughs.

"No! Please Mr. Reid, I've wanted you forever. Please just give it to me already."

"So needy!" He replies in a high pitched voice. After a small peck on your lips he makes his way down your body with his hands. He takes extra long on your tits, making sure to cause your stomach knot to tangle even more. You shiver at the touch, so ready to let your orgasm go. Your legs straighten out and dangle off the desk.

He moves his attention to this, changing the direction of his body. He grabs your hand and kisses it, dropping it as he begins to kiss up your leg. Starting at the knee, he makes his way slowly up to where the fabric of your skirt ends at the top of your thigh. He nudges it up with his hands, feeling around your waist.

"You're being such a good girl for me." He looks up at you without moving his head too much. His half lidded puppy dog eyes stare into yours. "Such a good girl. Legs all spread, dripping wet for me. So perfect. My princess." You struggle to find ways to respond as you are completely taken aback by his loving praise.

"Please, I need you." You blurt out.

"What do you need my love?"

"You. Everything."

"So, you want me to take these off I assume?" He teases as he tugs at your panties.

"Please!" You yell from overstimulation.

"Hey quiet remember?" He swallows hard before going back to where he was. Slowly, he pulls them down. "Holy shit you are soaked." You love the cussing side of your teacher more than you probably should.

"I want you so bad baby," you beg.

"I'm right here. I will give you whatever you want. You deserve it, princess." He leans forward as he speaks, slowly reaching his mouth to your wet cunt. His tongue moves in circles around your clit, not yet touching it. This man will be the death of you.

He slides his tongue back and forth, then licks a long strip up your pussy. His speed increases as he flicks his tongue back and forth. Moans seep out of you and him, creating music. As he flattens his tongue and practically shakes his head into you, your back arches more than you thought possible. He sucks and licks with professionalism. You skin begins to prickle as the heat rises in you further and further. He takes notices and pulls his head away.

"Don't tell me you're close already, we just started." He wipes his lips. He leans up and removes his tie to get it out of the way. He places it behind your head and uses it to pull you up towards him. You kiss intently. "Like how you taste, my love?" You blush hard at his comment.

He takes off his jacket and moves back down, rolling up his sleeves and buttoning them in place. His veins travel from his hands up, entrancing you. He slides one finger into you to get you used to it. However, your body is ready for whatever he has for you. He slides in one more right after.

"You're doing so good. I'm so proud of you sweetheart."

Just as you begin to reach your climax, he begins to go harder and faster. He moves his head back down and starts to suck on your clit. He whimpers as you pull his messy hair, making you starstruck.

"C'mon baby let it go." He continues. "Let it out for me. You can do it princess." You fucking love that he talks you through it. It sends you over the edge, causing you to finally release your orgasm. The two of you share deep breaths among each other and he licks his fingers to clean them. "You did so good for me, such a good little girl." He praises in such a smooth, sexy voice.

"I feel so much better." You exhale. Your vision slowly returns after the climax you just hit.

"I'm glad. You definitely earned that extra credit, by the way." He says. You laugh and begin to slide your panties back on, followed by hundreds of innocent kisses.

[dreadsuitsamus]

May I request sfw prompt #39 and nsfw prompt #53 for Gohan where he falls in love with the reader after they have a one night stand but she's initially cold to him because she had been hurt in the past?

#39- "why are you scared of loving?"

#53- "you're more than just a one night stand"

author's note: this has been in my inbox since january of 2023 💀 but i have finally found my inspiration to get it done! there's no explicit smut but there are some nsfw mentions. this is also written as a prequel to my story protect!

pairing: gohan x fem!reader

warnings: talks of a past abusive relationship, mentions of reader's ptsd, nsfw mentions

A sigh quells the silence in your room as you dress after a shower. While not at the lowest point in your life, you're still not far from rock bottom. Living with your mother again, only a year and a half removed from that day your ex beat you to a pulp and left with all your money and all of the problems of his absence are still keeping you from flourishing. Ruined credit score from a broken apartment lease, incalculable debt from the hospital bills that your insurance refused to cover, and frequent nightmares of him coming back to finish destroying you into nothing give you constant anxiety and each day is a new struggle.

Safe to say, you haven't really been okay.

You glance at your phone with shame, nervous for when the inevitable text comes from a man that's far too sweet and far too good for you to deserve you skipping out on him in the middle of the night following the mistake of a one night stand. You met Gohan through a friend, and he offered to guide you through ridding yourself of the medical debts and this is what you've done to repay him. Hook up with him and then run for the hills the second he was asleep.

You close your eyes to calm yourself, centering again before the bad feelings of anxiety and depression can come creeping up your spine. Gohan knows about your past, and he's a grown man. Surely one as attractive as him has a few notches on his bedpost and would understand your absence.

But the way he looked at you last night, like you were heaven-sent and perfect has you doubting such an idea. Son Gohan could be a man like that if he wanted, but your heart and your mind alike know that's not who he is. He's a pure, old fashioned good boy. He wouldn't have slept with you if he didn't romantically like you to some extent…

And you certainly wouldn't have slept with him if you didn't want to reciprocate so badly it makes your chest ache with all of the want you harbor. To have a man love you, truly, and treat you as you deserve has been on your mind for years, well before your former boyfriend finally left you. But you had that kind of hope in Tyler, at first. He was kind, he was sweet and attentive… Though it only took moving in together for his true colors to show. Lying, cheating, stealing—  That's who your ex was after all.

Your heart can't take that chance again.

You hang your towel on the back of your door, gazing at nothing in particular as you settle onto your bed. For the last few years it's as if you've had so much to plague your mind that you can't think of a single thing. It's strange to feel so empty, just entirely devoid of direction or purpose. You've got yet another set of paperwork to fill out for your medical debt, and then a few job applications as well that hopefully will last longer than a handful of months— all of these places only hiring you on as a temp is a god awful look on your résumé.

Your old laptop awaits, but you can do little more than flop back against your pillows and close your eyes. The war in your mind is something you're used to, but the usual stress on your body is gone.

You bite down on your lip as you remember the way Gohan touched you. The way he lit you up with his lips on yours, how gentle he was with your body and feelings, offering to stop or slow down— even when you were on the cusp of orgasm! He's a perfect sexual partner, and if it wasn't for how damn sweet he is you may have even thought to make it a routine thing.

You drift off to a blissful sleep that's heavy enough for you to miss that dreaded text.

I hope you made it home safely.

Gohan absentmindedly worries his lip between his perfect teeth, typing in a frenzy as he shoots back an email to the hospital that wracked you up with an inhumane amount of debt. He's got plenty to get done today, mostly for his actual job, but he just won't allow himself a moment to make any progress until these firmly-worded emails get the message across: you will not be paying them hundreds of thousands of dollars for fighting for your life!!

The huff he lets out after sending his email doesn't ease the anxiety that's been bubbling in his chest all morning. When you came over last night to work on a résumé, Gohan had absolutely no intention of sleeping with you. You're a woman in a bind and he's here to help, that's all! Disgust crawls over his skin anyway, shame buzzing his insides as he remembers everything that led to your passionate hookup.

You smelled so nice and looked just so damn pretty… He just wanted to sit a little bit closer, that's all. But then you looked up at him (and he'll die on the hill that you batted your lashes at him!) and he was nothing but a fool for you then. He doesn't know who leaned in first or who started what, but he certainly only had the mind to end it after it was too late to stop and he was balls deep.

A shudder wracks Gohan's body as he remembers the feeling of slipping inside of you. Even with a condom on, he could feel the heat and the wetness of your silky walls as they gripped his lonely shaft and sucked him in for as many inches as he had to give. And thank goodness he even had a condom on hand, all thanks to the people fundraising outside of the grocery store that included them in their donation goodie bag!

You were so sweet beneath him, so pliable and warm and perfect. He feels his cock stir in his pants, jumpy at the memory and unfortunately eager to experience such a lovely time again. Alas, you've been through quite a lot, and he shouldn't get his hopes up for anything like that.

You walking out on him last night already dashed his hopes anyway.

It wasn't exactly surprising to wake up alone, though it did sting all the same. You're just so amazing and kind and beautiful… Gohan would have to be a real piece of work not to see how special you are. Only a waste of space like your ex could be blind to everything that you are.

Gohan checks his phone for what feels like the thousandth time, no text message back from you. He's starting to worry now, which isn't good for his nails that he habitually bites when stressed. It'd probably do him well to go for a training session, but he also feels so frazzled as his blood races through his veins that training may not yield any productive results.

He pulls his glasses off and runs his large hands over his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes until he starts seeing stars. Blinking until the room clears, Gohan glances at his phone once again before standing with an indignant huff.

He's fine, all of this is fine. And fretting over nonsense won't make you text him back any faster. You need your space, and he's going to give it to you. No fussing required.

He does go make use of Vegeta's gravity room, though when the Saiyan himself shows up and he's left in the face of a full-blooded, battle-hungry Saiyan, he can't help but think that perhaps he should've stayed home.

At least he's not stuck with Vegeta in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber like Trunks was.

Gohan's text message remains unanswered, haunting you as you cook yourself dinner. You'll have to face him eventually, and soon, but what do you say? 'Thanks for the sex, it was great!'? No! Do you ignore it??

Do you have a choice?

Hooking up again isn't an option. Pursuing something more with him, something romantic and fulfilling, definitely isn't either. He's been a wonderful help to you and for absolutely nothing at all in return; you don't have any extra money to pay him anyway. The kindness of Gohan's heart isn't even something you can repay, not after what you've done to him. A sour feeling crosses your mouth, your appetite fading as your mind races.

He's a good man. Too good for where you're at in life, and there's always some kind of catch with nice guys. It's too risky, all of it. Will he demand more sex for more of his help, now that he's already gotten it once? You need his assistance to whittle down the medical bills— his stubborn insistence with insurance and the hospital itself is astounding, and runs deeper than anyone else you know. Left to your own devices, you'd have given up a long time ago.

He's not like that. The reminder scolds your terrible line of thinking. Gohan would never leverage your quality of life at all, let alone with the ultimatum of sex. He's not your ex, he's not a bad person in the slightest.

But you didn't know your ex was your ex at first either.

Your plate of eggs and toast nearly run cold by the time you've found it in you to send a response. Typing and erasing it several times over, you finally end up with a passable response message over twelve hours since his text to you in the first place.

I'm alright, thank you. Would you mind sending the copy of my résumé? I forgot to download it onto my laptop.

You are such a dick.

But the job applications are just sitting pretty without it right now, and you can't afford not to include the carefully-crafted résumé Gohan spent so much time on. He made it for you, it's literally yours, and the shitty little paycheck you got just a few days ago is already about gone. You're cold, and it'll surely throw him for a loop at minimum, but it's the best way to protect yourself.

"Chase a check, never chase a bitch." You murmur the cold lyric to yourself and bite into your dinner, waiting for Gohan's timely response. He's a busy man with a career of his own, but he always messages you back in mere minutes. He's a great multitasker like that, and you certainly aspire to be as efficient as he is.

Though you begin to doubt things when hours pass and there's no response. Ice slowly frosts your veins with every further minute that Gohan doesn't respond with your résumé; surely there's a good reason? He wouldn't have thrown it out or be the type to withhold it— your friend would never associate themselves with Gohan if he was like that, much less connect the two of you if he were the sort of man to manipulate things in such a way.

But the cold, paranoid dread doesn't let up even in the morning. Your phone has no notifications at all, and you even check the chat to make sure the message is sent. It has, and he's seen it.

Anger bubbling beneath the surface of your chest is overshadowed by the trembling of your bottom lip. How foolish could you be?? If there was ever going to be a hookup, you could've at least waited for your shit to be in order! Now it's all lost and you're on your own again, left to navigate debt that's threatening to swallow you whole and job-hunt in a market that doesn't want you.

Your mother's gone for work already as you begin your routine; your scheduled shift at work is a short one and not for several more hours, but to sit around and do nothing in the meantime will only spell certain doom. If you're given too much time to think, lord only knows what sort of outburst or meltdown you'll have. You're fresh out of the shower and part way through brushing your teeth when the doorbell rings, confusion etched to your features. You're not expecting anyone, though perhaps your mother has a package that needs signing for? Dropping your head, you quickly spit and rinse with mouthwash before jogging to open the door.

On the other side stands a damp man with crooked glasses, a dazed look in his eye and all the anger in you fizzles out. He's here. And the look on your face must scare him with the way his lip nearly trembles when he speaks.

“I am— I— Sorry!” Gohan stumbles over his words and you sigh softly as the trickle of relief siphons through the rest of your body. Gesturing him further in, Gohan slips off his shoes and hands over a folder.

“I got busy with my uncle,” Busy being a bit of an understatement; the moment Vegeta caught Gohan with his phone as he was reading your message and forced him right back into the gravity room for another training binge. “And I went as fast as I could to get this to you. I am so sorry about this.”

Your eyes soften and you carefully wipe a few suds from his hair. “I appreciate it… But you could've finished your shower first.”

Gazing up as if he can see the soap in his hair, Gohan’s cheeks redden as he laughs nervously. “Uh… S-Sorry.”

Reluctantly dropping your hand once you've fixed his glasses, you open the folder to find a physical copy of your résumé alongside a flash drive that presumably has another copy downloaded onto it. “Thank you.”

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Gohan bites his lip. “Um… Can we talk for a second?”

“A-About what?”

Oh no.

“I… Think you have an idea.” Gohan says softly. He can't leave it behind or anything unsaid; one night stands aren't his thing. “Listen… What happened between us was…”

“Sex. It was just sex.” You murmur, setting the folder down on the coffee table. “People have sex all the time… It happens.”

Hurt penetrates Gohan's chest. He knew you were jaded, knows exactly why and he does understand… It doesn't mean it can't hurt him. He likes you, appreciates your mind and admires your strength in a way that may have a bit to do with his Saiyan heritage. “Sure… Other people do that. But I don't. And… And for me, I…”

Tears start to well in your eyes. This man, this wonderful, caring, smart and lovely man is about to cross that line, isn't he? The one that can't be crossed again, the one that's going to end this friendship on a burned bridge and broken hearts. “Gohan, don't—”

“You're more than just a one night stand.” He says it anyway, taking your hands and holding them so warmly, protectively and securely. “To me, you are… Inspiring, and beautiful, and… And someone I really, really like. And that night was so great, and I was on top of the world until I woke up and you were gone.”

“I'm sorry.” You whisper, screwing your eyes shut tightly and ducking your head. You just can't stop messing up, can you? “It's not you, Gohan. You're a great man and there's a woman out there that will make you happy and take care of you.”

“The woman I want is right in front of me.” His hand comes to rest on your cheek, brushing away the salty tears that fall when you meet his gaze.

“Gohan… You don't want this. Do you know why I left that night?”

Gohan’s other hand comes to the other side of your face, cradling you like the daintiest china. “You had your reasons.”

Your hands come to his wrists, not tugging his touch away as you feel his warmth bloom within you, lighting you up in unfamiliar but pleasant ways, encouraging the leap of faith that your hopeful heart cries out for. “Because I get nightmares. Nightmares so bad that my momma has to come and wake me up almost every night and hold me to stop the panic attacks. I'm broken in so many ways Gohan…” Your lip trembles, and Gohan gently swipes his thumb just below the curve of it, mesmerized by every inch of you.

“If you only knew just how much I understand being broken…” Gohan whispers, his “eventful” childhood flashing through his mind from his kidnapping and all the way to his father's most recent death. “Then you would understand me more than anyone, and I’d get to understand you.”

“You don't want this.” You whisper again, and Gohan leans in for the softest, warmest kiss to your forehead. It clears the rain, just a bit, and you lean into it.

“Why are you so scared of loving me?” Gohan murmurs against your skin. “You've never said you don't want it… Me. Just that I won't want you, like you're a used car or something.”

You come to hide your face in his chest and he wraps you up tightly, his strong body anchoring you from your fears. “I'm afraid to get hurt again. When you didn't answer my message, I thought the worst of you! That you were some asshole that was only gonna help me if I kept sleeping with you! All because you didn't text me back. That's just the tip of the iceberg, Gohan!”

“Honey…” Gohan whispers, swaying gently as he holds you, one arm wrapped tightly around your middle while his other hand rests at the back of your head. “You’d know my heart if you knew your place. So come find yourself… I'll wait for you.”

The fog breaks, and your smile is brighter than a thousand suns and Gohan has never seen anything more breathtaking.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Best Friend pt 2

tw: self harm, mentions of violence, general deranged yandere shenanigans, angst

ageless blogs n minors DNI blease tq <3

part 1 here

my masterlist

this sucks bros i broke my fucken leg and i cant move, my cast is so itchy and i cant scratch and i feel nasty cause i cant shower

feeling bads, so thats why i churned part 2 out faster thn usual , its shorter than before but just need some angsty comfort atm

as uaual many errors cause i did not proofreasd

enjoy i hope

You left the exam hall a couple hours later. To find out that your dad left a total of seven missed calls. You thought someone fucking died.

Of course, you called back. Preparing for the worst.

Your father picked up the phone, he explained that it was your friend. He had a mental breakdown because you weren't there for the opening of his dream restaurant. Eventually though, he calmed down enough to come back into the building to return the phone, eyes noticeably dull and tired, worse than before. He never stopped trembling.

The three of them sat down and talked.

Neither of your parents knew you stopped contacting him. They thought everything was fine, so your friend couldn't fault them for that.

Your parents trusted your friend, so they gave him your phone number and told him basic information about you now. Such as, the country you're studying in and the course.

You felt a pang of guilt, but you had to move on. You understood that he was busy, it would probably do no good for you to try and reach out to him. You would just ruin his plan and distract him too much. At least, that was what you thought.

Usually, he would call every day. But that turns to once every three days. Then once a week. Then never.

It's true that he would not miss a single day to send you a sweet message, a reminder to practice self care and that you're very dear to his heart. Which would be then followed by an update to his progress, it was stressful to read what he was going through and that was all he talked about. You felt like his personal diary, he stopped asking about how things were going for you.

Since it doesn't seem to bother him you weren't replying because he would send his texts when the entire world is asleep, you stopped opening his texts too.

You wanted to tell him in person that you're moving out to pursue your studies and you were granted a student loan. A crushing student loan. But... You believe his ten minutes of free time a week is better used for his sleep. Or even going to the bathroom perhaps.

A day passes by another and in the end, you moved on without him. Without telling him. It just always slips your mind every time you see him brisk walking towards his beat up car with a stack of metal trays in his arms. They must be extremely heavy, you could see the veins bulging out of his forearms and forehead.

It was hard to watch his cheeks get sunken in, his hair going back to its' matted, unhealthy state, dark bags forming under his constantly bloodshot eyes. He looked like he aged a decade older from all the stress and pressure. But... He is working towards his dream and you're happy for him. It was great that he finally achieved what he wanted, he deserved all of its glory for working his ass off like that.

You held no ill will towards him, but you grew apart. He was so consumed with work that the friendship suffered in silence, there were no more fun hangouts together at the mall, you don't get to eat his cooking anymore (you didn't want to burden him by buying a tray, he already has too much to do), no more fun conversations about the silliest shit. It was just... Bank loans, revenue, expenses, investors, employees, employers, credit score, mortgages, taxes etcetera. The urgency and distress was also rubbing off you too, there were nights you woke up in a cold sweat because you had a nightmare that your hypothetical restaurant failed and you went into debt.

So you thought, he needed his time. You shouldn't really interfere with anything you don't understand. Your friend is already nose deep in the real world, you're not even close to it yet and you're not ready for it yet either. Therefore, you took the route most young adults take after getting a high school diploma: getting a bachelor's degree in some field of study that you probably don't even like.

You trudged onwards to the direction of your hostel. You need to get ready for your shift, money is a little tight now and you don't want to burden your parents too much. They're already sending a lot of money to support your living.

If your friend knew you were working hard for some extra money, his heart would break. It would be devastating news to him, no doubt, he would at least have a dozen freakouts and breakdowns. But you don't know that, yet.

As expected, your friend eventually called you. It was later than expected; it took him a week before he called your new phone number himself. He needed to calm down and collect his thoughts, as he knew that he might just drive you away if he comes barreling in with passionate yelling and sobbing over the phone. Plus, he also needed to focus on his new restaurant too, he can't just abandon his lifelong dream like that. How else is he going to make enough money to provide for you? He can't take back the money and time he invested in this now, all he can do is keep going and find some compromise.

It was tempting to go M.I.A. and hastily book a plane ticket to wherever you're studying. He was deeply yearning for your presence, he was desperate, he was clawing his arms and decorating them with nasty scars in an attempt to keep the urge at bay. He was extremely miserable but he had to keep going, to build that wonderful, cushiony foundation for you and him to fall back onto.

Everything he does, he does it for you.

He was polite, kind and pleasant during the first phone call you both had in two years. Though, there was a noticeable twinge of hurt in his mildly wavering voice. He still sounded like he's happy and relieved to hear you again.

The call started off with a greeting, then some small talk, then finally to the meat of the call;

Why didn't you tell me? He asked. It seems like he was fighting back his tears.

You didn't answer right away, you don't know what to say.

You could tell him the truth that he was too busy with his endeavors and you just don't feel like interfering by burdening him with "unnecessary information". However, you think that might wound him deeply as you're somewhat blaming him for your own actions.

You could lie... and tell him what, exactly? Either way, it would hurt him even more and there is probably going to be some resentment.

So, you apologized. You kept your reasoning brief and simple; you needed to move on. You acknowledged that whatever you did wasn't very nice of you, but you still had to proceed and you thought that it would be better that you didn't tell him.

There was a moment of silence between the both of you.

On the other side of the call, your friend was wracking his brain, trying to comprehend what you just told him. It came across as you not wanting to do anything with him anymore because you feel unprioritized, unimportant, inferior. Guilt and remorse was eating him up, he is putting all the faults onto himself.

He spiraled downwards in that call, spewing nonsense and absurd promises to destroy everything he has ever worked for just to have you back in his arms. Deranged negotiations involving the idea of blinding, deafening, mutilating or doing some sort of bodily or mental harm to himself to prove something; prove that he puts you above everything else and also to punish himself for neglecting you.

It was horrifying to hear your dear friend babble about putting himself into financial ruin for the sake for your forgiveness. He spoke of his accomplishments and advancements as they were disposable, as if it held no value compared to you.

This isn't normal, far from it, Your friend devolved so much to the point he was making demented pledges to kill and maim your enemies for you, and only you. To eviscerate the ones you dislike and send videographic proof of it, to disembowel his business associates to show that they mean absolutely nothing to him. Mind you, he was talking about real, breathing, living humans.

It was hard to fully grasp the insanity in his now incoherent words, he was muttering apologies and self hatred. Promises of severe self harm was also common in his mad speech. At one point, religion and superstitions were thrown into the mix. But you could not understand what he was chanting about.

What the fuck are you talking about? Your friend didn't pick up on your distress... or words over his excessive tirade against himself.

Everything I do, I do it for you, and I would do anything and everything for you. I love you- You hung up.

You couldn't take a second more of that. It was really difficult to see this side of him. It hurts you too that he became like this, perhaps all the stress from building a business from the ground up fried his mind. Whatever it was, you knew that he is not good for you anymore.

You sent him a final text message telling him that you're not comfortable with him after that massive sanity slippage. You wished him luck and expressed your regrets that it had to turn out this way.

You didn't give him a chance to respond, you blocked him immediately on everything and went on with your day.

Whatever he said kept replaying in your head like a broken record. It was pure horror.

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Junior Year Ep 15

The Buddy System

Welcome back to Fantasy High where the Bad Kids are still fighting for their lives and, more importantly, their grades. 

After a sterling start to their Last Stand exam, they still have a lot more test to get through before they’re academically out of the woods and they need a perfect score on the written portion to pass which is incredibly harsh but that’s Aguefort for you!

This is a very long episode where everyone gets to be so cool. Truly, you can see how competent all of the players and the characters have become as they carve a bloody path through wave after wave of enemies. 

As usual, it doesn’t really make sense for me to do a blow for blow recap of this fight but it’s absolutely worth watching. It’s an absolute delight from Siobhan and Emily irl making up a limerick in tandem to pass the Performance section of The Last Stand to Gorgug rolling truly more Nat 20s than I’ve ever seen in my life and almost solo-ing a *Purple Worm*. There’s not really any commentary that I can add to improve on just how amazingly they do in the episode. They’re forced to use the auto-pass stamp twice but only on the two most unreasonable things Brennan asked them to do–write a 300 word essay longhand in five minutes and do a (gag) math word problem. With those two stamped, they get 100% on their written exam. They even get some extra credit (partially due to Siobhan’s IRL LOTR geekery). 

Not only that, but Gavin (the proctor) only gets hit (I think) once and never actually goes down! None of the Bad Kids do. Hell, Adaine–their squishiest member–basically just sits at her desk the whole fight answering questions and slinging spells and she’s fine! Happy ending, A+s all around, roll credits, right?

No, of course not. Nothing is that simple–not that this was simple. They can’t just be the first party to ever pass The Last Stand without dying and have it be done. 

During the fight, everyone–but especially Kristen–has been suspicious of Buddy. She does an Insight check and sees that he seems on the level but that’s not enough to quell her suspicion. Near the end of the fight, she eats the Vulture King eyeball (granting her a minute of Truesight) with the intent of seeing who Buddy really is–a reasonable instinct considering Ruben was in disguise at the festival. 

She sees that Buddy is Buddy. She *also* sees Kipperlilly Copperkettle invisibly aiming a crossbow at Gavin. KP clocks Kristen clocking her, smiles, and lowers the crossbow, instead choosing to SLIT BUDDY’S THROAT. Buddy falls to the ground, absolutely DEAD. Not making saves. FULLY DEAD. A blue scaly hand touches her and they both vanish–Kristen can tell that the spell was Plane Shift (which is necessary for getting in and out of this testing pocket dimension). She frantically looks for a diamond to cast Revivify but her pockets have been picked and Buddy’s Revivify diamonds are gone as well. 

They finish the fight victoriously but Buddy’s death casts a pallor on everything. This was supposed to be a fight to the death but Buddy was the one person whose death wasn’t figured into the bloodbath. Gavin tells them that they pass the rest of the year with A+s but is shaken and thrown off kilter by the seemingly random murder. Kristen tells him what she saw and Gavin says that he was observing so he can vouch for the fact that none of them had anything to do with the murder but this is a crime scene and they have to call the Fantasy FBI. The Bad Kids are all super worried about Gavin’s safety since Kipperlilly was going after him initially, but in the end they agree to take him to the Council of Chosen office in Bastion City so he can be under their protection and to leave Fig’s phone (juiced up by Gorgug) in the pocket dimension with Buddy’s body in case there are any shenanigans (you know, besides him getting murdered which was already a pretty big shenanigan).

The Bad Kids drop off Gavin and then take a bus back to Elmville with a new mission: CSI Elmville, let’s get this bitch arrested! 

Editing to Add: This is a very cool post by @thisisnotthenerd that covers all the Last Stand Qs and monsters in the form of Gavin's proctor notes. Check it out!

Detention 

Kipperlilly for Icing Buddy

This was gonna go to Brennan for making a bunch of stand up comedians do math under a time limit but I can’t not give it to Kipperlilly here. She smiled. She looked at Kristen, smiled, and slit Buddy’s throat. There was no gritting her teeth like it was a hard but pragmatic choice. She was about to take the life of someone who fully trusted her and she did it with glee. There is something *deeply* wrong with this bitch, and we knew that already but hoo boy this certainly clinches it. 

Honor Roll

Gorgug for DESTROYING that Purple Worm

Everyone was in top form this episode but if I have to give it to one person, I’m gonna give it to Gorgug for single handedly holding back a Purple Worm, a monster so terrifying that there is an official D&D show where the premise is that all the players have to fight an OP monster they’re almost certainly gonna TPK against and the title is “Faster, Purple Worm! Kill! Kill!” Our boy didn’t even drop. That’s Maximum Legend Behavior. 

Random Notes

Kristen has the thought that she interrupted a truly horrible thing that KP was about to do and wonders what the crossbow bolt was loaded with. I didn’t mention it in the recap but I wanted to call attention to it because Brennan called attention to it. 

Also Riz got some footage of Gavin clearing them with his tie and Gavin sent their scores to the superintendent (not Jace to be clear–Tectonya Karkovnya who we met in The Seven).

Ugh I’m so annoyed because if KP and Oisin get questioned under Zone of Truth they’re absolutely gonna be dosed up with Devil’s Honey.

Buddy’s throat was slit and there’s no rune on his chest so presumably he can be revived if he’s brought to a hospital–hell Kristen could probably do it with a higher level spell–but I’m worried someone’s gonna slap that rune on him while his body is alone.

Do we think KP killed Buddy without a thought because she knows she lives in a world with revives and she knows it’s temporary or is she just like I truly do not care what happens to this (literally) corny ass cleric. I don’t know him like that. 

Once again, I love Adaine’s div powers so much. “You crit actually.” What a legend. Also love Fig coming to her with doubt and her just being like don’t be crazy and slapping a reticle on the monster to help her aim. I really love their friendship. 

Adaine is my favorite Bad Kid and I am first in line to throw down wrath on anyone who tries to mess with her. That being said, my favorite non-Bad Kid character is Aelwyn who has absolutely tried to kill Adaine and attacked her on multiple occasions and also is wanted for murders she absolutely did. My point here is that Oisin’s next moves will determine if he’s “surrounded by bad influences/I can fix them” material like Aelwyn or, “Throw out the whole man” material like that cop Antiope had a crush on. I am still rooting for the former but I will flip on a dime, do not doubt me. 

I tried that essay writing task and with 25 seconds left on the clock (I stopped when I finished making my points) I was only at 174 words and my hand was seriously cramping. So I would say, valiant effort from the Bad Kids but that was a *rough* ask. 

Kristen’s Bless really came in clutch! Honorary mention to her for that AND for having enough intuition to keep an eye on the Rat Grinder situation. I wonder if Brennan contemplated that might happen. 

Fig bug zapping all those flying monsters was chef’s kiss. 

Did Bobby Dawn fail Kristen specifically so she’d have to take the Last Stand? If so, he is indirectly responsible for his grandson getting iced. Hope that tastes bitter when he finds out but for all we know he’s one of those ends justify the means guys. Bleh. 

This season really is a love letter to all that came before it. The questions, the pentacorn, Adaine’s go to move even magically just being making a fist and letting it fly. I really love how much love Brennan clearly has for this world. And the 100% score the players got on the test shows they obviously love it right back!

Loose Ends

It is Fantasy High tradition for us to get a huge lore dump near the end of the season that ties together a lot of disparate clues and I hope we’re getting there soon because there are a LOT of loose ends we have yet to tie. Here are as many major ones as I can think of right now in case it helps spark productive speculation amongst y’all. 

Who killed the Loams?

Why the move to Loam Farm for Frosty Faire?

What specifically was Ruben trying to do with the symbol when he was playing at the festival? Presumably the thing Grix was trying to prevent?

Who killed Professor Badgood?

What were the exact circumstances behind Lucy’s death?

Who was able to put the rune on both of their bodies and what exactly was the goal there?

What is the Devil’s Honey being used for? What about the other things Aelwyn was getting for KP like Ambrosia? Why did she want a Cloud Rider engine?

How is Jace involved? Why is he manipulating Ruben?

How culpable is each individual Rat Grinder? Are they all in it together or are there varying levels of how involved they are?

Why were Ankarana’s domains wiped from heavens’ computers?

Why did Ankarna become corrupted and why was she forgotten? Were the celestial gods (Sol and co) involved?   

How did KP find the rogue teacher?

Also what’s her damage? Why is she obsessed with Riz? What are her anger issues about?

What’s her current goal? Who is she loyal to (if anyone)? Why did she want to know about Kristen creating a god exactly?

Why did Lucy change her god and then change it back?

Why was Buddy specifically requested by the Rat Grinders?

Why is KP running for class president? And is Mazey being principal a purposeful machination or just a weird thing that’s happening incidentally? 

What’s up with Spy’s Tongue Curse and Kalina only being able to say Ragh’s name? Is it related to that conversation between Kalina, Adaine’s mom, and Jace from SY?

Why wasn’t Ivy surprised to see Fig in disguise as Lucy who was at the time fully dead?

What’s up with the party vision that Adaine has now had at least twice?

Where is KP getting her money from?

What made the Rat Grinders become the Rat Grinders when they started as the High Five Heroes?

What's up with the shatter stars infecting the soil around Elmville?

Where exactly is Cass right now?

What does Ankarna want?

How does Ruvina fit into all of this?

Feel free to hit me up if there's something you think I should add to the list! Can't wait for next week. I'll see you then!

[dreamlessimp]

— special

summary: you always thought you were special to reo

warnings: mikage reo x gn reader, poorly written light angst, sfw, reader goes to hakuho, unrequited love, nagi seishiro did nothing wrong, 0.7k wc

if anyone asked, you would have said you were close to mikage reo. the two of you had been friends for years, and still going strong.

maybe you even would have said you were special to him.

the smiles he aimed in your direction made your heart flutter. his grin never failed to brighten your day, somehow managing to improve your mood in a short glance.

he often partnered up with you in class for projects. you weren’t the best in class, but somehow reo’s eyes almost always landed on you when it was announced you were to choose your own partners. he chose to be with you, and you were never complaining.

you worked well together.

needless to say, you were down bad for mikage reo. and small part of you, a stupidly hopeful part, thought there may have been just the slightest chance that these feelings were reciprocated. 

“who’s he?” you asked reo, gesturing at the tall, distracted boy stood next to your friend.

“nagi seishiro.” he replied. “i didn’t tell you about this, but we’re gonna win the world cup together!”

“since when do you play football?” 

“well, i don’t really play football. yet.” he said, obviously excited. he pulled at the shoulder of nagi’s uniform, tearing his attention from his phone.

“you made me die.” he said, not even bothering to hide his boredom.

“nagi, you should join our studying.” he nodded at you, as if asking for permission. you quickly smiled and nodded back. “i’m curious about how you study considering you never take notes.”

“huh? i don’t really study.” nagi responded flatly.

“how are you out-scoring me?” reo asked, appalled.

“i dunno. i read the textbooks if it’s important.”

besides laughing when appropriate, you weren’t a part of their conversation. they seemed to converse so easily, even if they had just met. you credited reo, and the fact that they just seemed to be good together.

“we can sit at this table here.” reo said, pointing at a rectangular table in the library.

“okay.” the quiet one said, choosing a seat to sit down in before pulling out his books and phone. he agreed to go, but blatantly planned to study as little as possible.

“mhm.” you said, walking behind reo as he chose the seat next to the other. you sat across from him and pulled out your books as well.

what you thought would just be studying with a bit of conversation, quickly turned into a largely one-sided conversation between the other two at your table.

you were there, but not to reo.

from there, it only got worse. the two of them spent practically all their free time practicing. 

reo still spoke to you as if it was no different. nothing about how he treated you changed, and you hoped he could say the same about you.

it was okay for the most part.

until he approached you after class.

“hey! can we talk?” he yelled as he caught up to you in the halls.

“yeah, okay.” you said, turning to face him. “what’s up?”

“how do you think nagi views me?” he asked, face flushed. you hoped it was from running.

“i think he thinks highly of you.” you responded.

a pretty smile grew on his face. “great, thanks.”

he started walking forward, waving his hand as an invitation for you to walk alongside him.

nagi was walking in the opposite direction, his eyes buried in his phone. once reo spotted him, he walked over, shoulders pushed back in confidence. “hi nagi.” he said happily.

“hey.” nagi said, tearing his eyes from the manga he’d been reading. “are they moving practice again?”

“no. i was just wondering about that move you did yesterday. where you trapped it from the side.” reo and nagi began walking in the opposite direction reo came from.

you stood still and silent as they walked right past you.

you’d always thought you were special to him, to reo. but based on the way he was looking starry-eyed at the white-haired boy in a way you’d never seen him look at you, you felt tears prick at your eyes as you realized he’d always thought different.

[kaile-hultner]

GoFundMe Update, 8/12/2024

Hey y'all! it's been about a week since the last GoFundMe update. We've hit a pretty predictable slow period in this fundraiser, a kind of doldrums, but I also got super busy over the last seven days, so it's all good there. So what's been going on in the past week?

To start with, as I mentioned last week I'm down to just one installment loan. This in itself has already made a massive difference just even in terms of how I'm feeling. It no longer feels like I'm being crushed by this massive weight on my shoulders or chest. I know I've mentioned this a lot, but it's such a weird feeling after experiencing the opposite for most of my adult life.

With that, things are already starting to change rapidly: my credit score has gone up 23 points in a week and a half, for example. I hate that this is even something we should have to pay attention to, but I can't help but feel relieved when number go up instead of down. The number of phone calls I'm getting per day, in the evenings, on the weekends - all the debt collection calls - has dropped dramatically. Now it's mostly just spam and companies trying to get me to take out more loans with them. I've experienced a burst of creative energy that has gotten me back in the game-playing-and-reviewing saddle - I just wrote a piece about "A Short Hike" as a donor request fulfillment exercise. (You can check that out here.) I was able to get through an entire weekend of work at my side-gig with no issues or delays—something I haven't been able to say for a few months. And when I finished that work? You'll never believe it, but I didn't feel stressed out or exhausted! I felt normal!

This doesn't automatically catapult me into 24/7 comfortable living, and now I really have to focus on the hard and dirty work of living within my means, building a budget and being an adult when it comes to daily choices, but I always knew that. This GFM has never been the magic bullet that would solve all of my problems - and I've never wanted it to be. However, it's helped assuage such a significant portion of my problems that I can focus on other things for once, and navigating that for the first time has been a pretty significant experience! This comes after months of having to transfer my paycheck from my bank to my Apple Pay account and a litany of other sketchy shit just to make sure it didn't all get swallowed up by various debt repayments and years of sometimes paying rent in parts instead of all at once. With most of that gone and cleared out, I no longer have to do all that! I don't feel like I'm constantly between a rock and a hard place, and that's… honestly pretty significant.

So what's next? Why am I still moving forward with the GFM towards $8000 and eventually $10000+?

Well, as I've said in prior updates, it's still pretty unbelievable that we reached $6500+ and I genuinely have no expectations about getting even a cent more. If nobody else donates, I think I would be pretty pleased with what this GFM was able to accomplish. But I don't think I'm totally out of the woods yet. Thanks to your help, I've upgraded from "basically completely underwater" to "balancing precariously on the edge of the dock," and there's a WORLD of difference between those two states. But that doesn't mean I don't ever again have to worry about the possibility of almost drowning.

Goal 4 would help me pay off my remaining installment loan, and with that close the book on that chapter of my life altogether. I've got these two annoying (paid monthly) loans in the background, but paying $40 and $78 a month respectively for them isn't really all that bad. It's not moving the needle the way these installment loans (paid every two weeks on my payday) were. I'd like to get rid of this final installment loan pretty quickly if possible. I'm currently just a bit under $1400 away from that goal, and I think it's pretty attainable.

Goal 5, $10,000, and Goal 6, $10,000+, are maybe my vaguest goals, so I want to flesh those out a bit. For those goals, I'm thinking of my long-term future more than anything immediate. If I can get anything past $8K, great! That will be money I put into a savings account and start adding to on my own. The reason I'm putting these goals at the end of this GFM is because in a little bit less than a year, I'm looking at the end of a pretty long arrangement I've had at the place I'm living, and the situation is that either rent is going to raise pretty significantly or (more likely) I'm going to be finding a new place to live. Having some money in savings is going to help me out with this in two ways: first, being able to pay a deposit on an apartment or absorb some of the cost of raised rent. Second, being able to put down a down payment on a car. My (smaller) worry is that, even with the radical erasure of my most immediate and crushing debts that this GFM has already afforded me, I may not have enough time to save this kind of money on my own, and/or that my credit score won't heal fast enough to qualify me for cheaper car payments, apartment deposits that aren't an arm and a leg, and so on. For context, I live in Oklahoma, which has a relatively cheap cost of living, but it's practically impossible to get around without a car as OKC's transit system is bootycheeks.

Finally (and least importantly), I promised when I set this GFM up that it would be the last time I asked for money from the Internet for this or any reason, outside of like a medical emergency. I set $10k up as a moonshot goal, something I didn't think it was possible to achieve - and yet here it is, barely $3400 away. If we make it to the end, that's gonna feel like a wild achievement! I'd finally be able to rest easy.

Here's a bad car metaphor I just thought of: you know how when you jump a car, you don't just plug up the jumper cables from one car to another and call it good when the car in need of jumping starts? You have to give it a little bit of extra juice in order for the car to restart its own charging capacity? That's kind of what this GFM is. I'm the car being jumped. The fundraiser is the other car revving its engine and giving me a bit of extra juice after I was able to start my own engine again.

See? told you it was bad.

Anyway, as always, I cannot thank those of you who have already donated enough. None of this would be possible if it wasn't for you, and my inbox is always open if you want to suggest cursed internet artifacts for me to look at. Someone suggested the entire series of Eyewitness children's science documentaries to me. I have no clue if I'll be able to find them. I've been vibing on the theme song for days tho. The only thing I would ask of you at this point is to share this GFM on social media, maybe link back to this update directly, and let's see if we can't find some extra wind for these sails to get us closer to that final goal. If you can't donate, please don't feel pressured to donate! Just reblogging it is more than enough help.

[sometipsygnostalgic]

We've been watching star wars, lots of it.

The other day we were discussing music. How the original trilogy is full of bombastic, magnificient tracks, and the prequels have these smashing epics, but the sequels have opted for more ambience, and there are only two leitmotifs to speak of, one only nine notes long (Kylo Ren).

See, I'm not alien to the creation of leitmotif without a whole song to go with it. This is how Marvel's been doing it for a little while now (since they were annihilated by a youtuber 8 years ago for their bad music apparently).

It's also how She-ra does it. This seems to be the compromise between the "in the background" scoring modern directors ask for and the "in your face" scoring musicians want to perform.

But here are a few differences even in that (rather bland) category of music:

She-ra is constantly taking advantage of its leitmotifs. That 11 note She-ra motif? You are damn aware when it's in your face, and it always shows up when She-ra is doing something magic.

Entrapta's theme is 7 to 14 notes long and it plays a lot, whenever she's doing something, whenever Hordak is thinking of her. Can be silly, loud, or very quiet depending on the mood of the scene.

Catra has a theme for when she's being evil. It is in fact She-ra's theme played in a different key. It sounds completely different so it's not obvious, which is brilliant in my opinion.

Hordak and Horde Prime... don't have a theme, but they have a specific chord that plays when they're on screen. Effective if forgettable.

Best Friend Squad has a theme. I associate it with Glimmer because it's very sparkly and used in action scenes. It repeats enough that I'd recognise it if I heard it.

And finally that complete banger of an opening, and all those whole, complete soundtracks you get in the end credits of some episodes (such as Light Hope). Those pieces of music in particular are memorable despite not being leitmotifs (mostly).

The star wars themes, you have Rey's theme which to be fair is great, and Kylo Ren's theme which only exists as 7 evil notes. You don't get all those themes from OT and Prequels which went so hard. You get a score which sounds like Star Wars Music, but none of the tracks stand out whatsoever. And none of the other characters seem to have any memorable music, none of the scenes, the intro music is the same as it's ever been. The trailer music was always remixed stuff from the Original Trilogy, never anything new.

I wonder what happened. It's possible Disney rejected any better compositions from Williams. It's possible that he was phoning it in at this point because he was called back into star wars yet again. It's possible the source material was not all that inspiring? Who knows. But while the sequels have John Williams and a bunch of OT musical references, they don't seem to have a Star Wars score.