#repetitive and boring messy

[sea-jello]

practice i did a while ago w poses i found on instagram plus the i think memories prompt from morrotober that i didn’t want to do the background of so never finished

[k1ttnz]

In honor of homeward bound almost finishing (which btw im definitely gonna cry when that happens) i decided to draw as much fanart as i could for it while i listen to it in text to speech. For @thompsborn thank you so much for writing this amazing masterpiece ily like actually

based on this excerpt

also i now realize that maybe college people dont wear backpacks or maybe they do idk hopefully they do because its too late to change the pose 😥 okay im gonna yap in the tags cause its gonna be too long of a post

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ⌇ BABY MOMMA. featuring k. nanami.

↻ there’s nothing nanami wants more in the world than to make you a mommy, and give you his beautiful kids.

tags : breeding kink, creampie, mommy kink (if you squint), messy sex, pet names, feral nanami, marathon sex, lactation + pregnancy (fantasized), ovulation cycle // wc. 0.9k

author’s note : sorry this one’s a lil late, i’ve been busy with theme changes and real life is throwing a million and one hurdles at me and i just can’t keep up 😞 you can't tell me that nanami wouldn't be a massive family man, so here i have him completely desperate to start a family with you and give you his babies. notes and reblogs are always appreciated, and check out my masterlist for non-event based works <3 !!

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

it’s been hours. hours since nanami even proposed the idea of trying for kids, and now, it’s all he can fucking think about. 

it’s all you can think about too, given the fact that he’s fucked you out of your mind, legs numb from being in missionary for as long as you remember with nanami plunging in and out of you, the tip of his cock nudging your cervix with every single thrust. 

it’s repetitive. it’s addicting. 

“hah- kento, can’t take no more…” your voice is a sheepish babble, nails digging into his back as tears stream down your face. “ ‘s too much, ken, please–“

nanami grunts in your ear, hips never ceasing movement as he ruts into you. “g’na have to, sweetheart. this one’s gotta take.”

he said that about the last one, and the one before that, and the one before that… and fuck, you can’t keep up with how many times he’s said it because he’s been going at it for so long with only one goal in mind. 

he’s gonna give you kids. he’s gonna make you a mommy, and you’re gonna raise his kids with him as his wife. 

it’s all he’s ever wanted. it’s all he’s ever dreamed of, and when he watches you lounge around the house wearing nothing but a bra and his oversized dress shirt and a wedding ring fit snugly on your finger, he really can’t stop himself from imagining what you would look like with a swollen tummy, breasts spilling out of that same bra. 

“g’na give you my kids baby…” he’s rambling half out of his ass, his brain scrambled by pure need. “gonna make my girl a mommy. you’re gonna be a great mommy, aren't you?”

he’s brought up the topic before. it was never anything serious, just asking you what you would prefer and never really thinking of his own volition. you had always agreed with him wholeheartedly, and it would somehow lead to the two of you cooing over baby clothes and strollers but never anything more. 

nanami is fucking sick of it. he’s sick of fawning over the idea and not doing anything about it. sure, you’ve made love a couple of times, but it never held any true intent, focusing on the pure need to give each other pleasure. 

well, now, nanami needs more than pleasure. he needs to see you with that swollen tummy and those massive leaky tits, and there’s only one way to do that; fucking you within an inch of your life and cumming in your cunt until it finally takes. 

“kento–“ you seemingly haven’t gotten bored of it yet, despite having been at it for over two hours. your back still arches with every bump to your cervix, nails still raking down his back as his sweaty chest squashes your own. “this one’s gonna take, promise.”

“i can’t be sure of that,” he states matter-of-factly. “although your tracker says you’re ovulating, we can’t just trust that once or twice will be enough.” is he sure of this fact? no, but he is sure that you feel too damn good to stop, even though he’s already finished inside of you enough times to guarantee your pregnancy ten times over. 

you just look so beautiful beneath him. you wear the radiance of sex extremely well, eyes fogged over and mouth hanging open as your steamy pants echo in his ear. you’re borderline intoxicating, and that’s why nanami can’t stop, even though he knows you need him to before you pass out. 

“look at me, angel. i wanna see you.” you weakly turn your cheek away from the pillow and look up at him, lips stained a gorgeous red and swollen from his kisses. “you’re gonna be such a pretty momma.”

your eyelids flutter and your back arches weakly as you cum again for the final time, garbled moans of nanami’s name flooding from your throat. despite the longevity of your session, your cunt still manages to squeeze around him impossibly, and nanami groans deeply, arms sliding around your hips as you pulls you forward to meet his thrusts. 

“kentooo…”

“i know, baby, i know.” the sheets are soiled with your sweat and his, and the tight clampdown of your walls propels him to cum one final time, hips flush against your twitching clit as he pumps you full. 

you both stay like that for a beat, nanami folded over your twitching body before he finally pulls out slowly, and when he does, the sight he’s met with is so incredibly dirty that he can barely believe he was the one to reduce you to such a mess. “oh, angel…”

copious amounts of his release flood from your cunt, leaving a translucent pool on your sheets. whilst he absolutely loves the sight and wishes to brand it on the forefront of his brain, nanami’s goal is still clear as day. 

he leans down and kisses your overstimulated clit, fingers dancing around your twitchy hole and gathering up his release before pushing it back inside with a curl of his fingers that makes you want to scream. 

“can’t waste any, my dear, or it might not take, remember?” when he looks up at you from in between your trembling thighs, the look on his face is nothing short of depraved, blonde strands of hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks stained red with excitement. 

“can’t wait to see my girl become a mommy.”

PREVIOUS : THE COLOUR RED ft. yae miko NEXT : BLACKOUT ft. tartaglia

liked that? check out the WE’RE SO BACK main masterlist.

© choslut 2024 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[simkoos]

╰┈➤ hot singles in your area 💘💌

⇢ caiphus buchanan, 25 - sweet, mysterious, ideal date consists of smoking a bowl, watching old-school horror movies and ordering snacks from uber eats at 2am

⇢ alexis oliver, 21 - 90's fashion aficionado, was told she looks like aaliyah once and won't let anyone forget about it smh. will probably swipe right on any guy with frosted tips

⇢ benson hedrick, 26 - works a boring 9-5, recently moved into a townhome in san sequoia and adopted a puppy but still feels a bit lonely

⇢ claire roberts, 27 - nepo baby, nursing student, always gets what she wants except a date to the bi-weekly galas...

⇢ daniel nevarez, 23 - made an account because a friend dared him to, has already gotten a few messages (mostly from women in their 40's but he's not complaining!)

⇢ julianna lin, 24 - party girl, probably the toxic one in relationships, prefers men up to 3x her age

⇢ noah palamo, 31 - originally from selvadorada but has recently relocated to brindleton bay. single and hating it. wants his future partner to love the outdoors as much as he does and won't mind living off the grid by the lake

⇢ rebecca noble, 26 - nursing student, dog mom, claire's quirky best friend. they also constantly match with each other on dating apps....

⇢ rosaura mendez, 34 - bartender, knows how to have a good time (iykyk). recently went through a messy break up with her ex-boyfriend, now wants to explore her options

⇢ avyaan parekh, 28 - professional dj from san myshuno, recently came out to his parents (who suggested he'd hop on one those dating apps to find true love. wish him luck!!)

⇢ theo stone, 36 - gym coach, health nut, wants someone to show him there's more to life than repetition, routine and choosing the right pre-workout

⇢ kendra jameson, 22 - 1st grade teacher's aide from oasis springs, kinda shy, has a crush on her mentor but knows it'll never work out so she created an account instead

⇢ kira travis, 26 - small jewelry business owner from willow creek, loves to travel, moves way too fast in relationships. once married a guy while on vacation in windenburg and got a divorce a week later. let's hope that never happens again!!

⇢ fred "manfredi valentino" valentine, 63 - owns 2 casinos in tartosa, 3 maseratis and a luxury penthouse but is pretty lonely since his wife unfortunately passed away. spends his free time going to yacht parties, gambling and spoiling his 8 grandchildren

⇢ kole fuller, 27 - in a band (guitarist and main vocalist), knows a lot of sims but doesn't have many friends outside of his bandmates and neighbors, would probably be the sweetest golden retriever boyfriend

[suntoru]

─ ✰ BREWING AFFECTION.

✧˚ · . NAGI SEISHIRO loves sleeping, soccer, and gaming. he also doesn’t mind you coffee too.

— warnings: coffee shop! au, fluff, crackfic, reo hating on readers barista skills, downbad nagi (hes oblivious af), maybe ooc?

— author’s note: NOT TUMBLR BUTCHERING THE QUALITY OF MY HEADER. THIS IS NOT OK.

"…so… this was the coffee shop you were talking about?” reo probes nagi tentatively, face crinkled in slight confusion. the small café nestled in the hidden corner of some obscure street— nothing extravagant, and certainly not what he expected. it’s a quiet sanction, only a few patrons savoring the quiet ambience of the modest establishment.

"mhm," nagi hums in affirmation. his eyes are glued to his screen, fingers violently tapping his phone as he skillfully maneuvers through the critical attack from the boss battle. reo doubts he was listening to a word he was saying. he raises his eyebrows skeptically, surveying the surroundings of the quaint little shop. he’s well aware nagi sacrifices fifteen whole minutes of his precious sleep on wednesdays and saturdays to walk all the way here— there must, has to be something special about this place. yet all he can spot are a couple of worn-down couches, cute decorations, and the smell of grinding beans in the air; nothing particularly stands out.

'is the coffee just that good?' reo wonders to himself, his thoughts interrupted when you hastily set a tray down at their table. your hair is tied in a messy bun, name tag displayed largely at the side of your stained apron. "i'm so sorry— morning rush! two triple foam lattes, half a shot of espresso with a dash of cinnamon, right?" the words tumble out, an apology and a question all in one, accompanied by a warm aura that absolutely nobody else in customer service seemed to carry.

…that’s… not…. even close… he deadpans. “um, actually—” he starts, but is quickly interrupted by nagi cutting him off. “t’s good. thanks.” he mutters, hazy half-lidded grey eyes boring into your oblivious, starry-eyed ones. the tips of his ears turn the slightest bit pink as he blows a tuft of his hair out of his eyes. his phone is completely discarded, ‘GAME OVER.’ pixelated largely on his screen as reo’s eyes widen slightly. …did he… die on purpose? no way. but… he was just about to beat the whole game…?

you smile giddily. finally, you got an order right!! “really? i’m so glad! enjoy your drink!” you eagerly exclaim as you walk away, feeling encouraged to pump out the other orders.

“…we ordered two large macchiatos.” nagi shrugs lazily, fiddling with the plastic straw in his drink. “tastes the same. ‘t’s too much of a hassle to correct them.”

“whatever,” reo sighs, “we’ve been waiting thirty minutes for this— it better make my mouth orgasm.” thirstily taking a huge slurp of the drink, he lets the coffee settle for a moment before not so subtly gagging at the aftertaste. how can someone possibly screw up this badly? it tastes like… tepid brown water. this should be a war crime. no offense, but who thought it was a good idea to hire you? “uhm… it’s *retches* certainly an acquired flavour…” he represses another gag as the fluffy white haired male tunes him out once again.

as reo contemplates the questionable quality of his latte, nagi remains blissfully unaware of his own feelings, doing what he does every wednesday and saturday morning— unconsciously admire you from a distance, his attention shifting from reo to you. his fingers idly trace the ridges on the rim of the cup, distractedly watching as you struggle to get the coffee to start brewing.

and he can’t exactly understand why his heart is beating out of his chest (perhaps he’s having a stroke), why his face is tinted red (is it the cold nipping at his cheeks?), or why he only seems to want coffee when you’re there (it simply tastes different). it all doesn’t make sense to nagi’s simple little life, a simple repetition every day; sleep, soccer, game.

nagi seishiro finds the easiest of tasks to be a hassle. yet for some strange reason, waking up early on wednesdays and saturdays isn’t one of them.

©kaeffeinee 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[emmcfrxst]

I wanna hear your opinion on how Arthur and John differ in bed because I love em both

arthur is a tender, gentle lover; with him, everything is about you and your pleasure— sex is an expression of his love and devotion for you, through kisses and touches and whispered words of affection. he worships you the whole time, mapping out your entire body with his fingers, then his lips— he’s thorough in his adoration of you and will make you come multiple times before even beginning to pull himself out of his pants. kissing you during sex is very important for arthur; it’s an act that’s so intimate, so sacred in his eyes, especially given his track record with women and the abandonment issues that stem from them— being able to kiss you freely reminds him that your feelings for him are sincere and that you’re not going anywhere. despite his inherent tenderness during sex, arthur is far from boring or repetitive; he’s more than willing to try anything you might be interested in trying (as long as there is zero chance of him hurting you. anything that could hurt you is a hard no for him) as he’s very versatile. he’s also quite vocal; he’ll moan, groan and gasp your name and will murmur praises against your skin. all in all, making love with arthur is a refreshing and intimate experience that he used to connect with you on a physical and spiritual level.

john is a lot less gentle. he’s fast and efficient most of the time, not hesitating to manhandle you into whatever position he likes (although your consent always matters and he will stop immediately if you ask him to because while he’s a little rough, he’s not a fucking monster). one thing that characterizes john in bed is that he likes his sex hot and messy. there will be spit, there will be tears of pleasure, there will be lots of cum— john marston loves to see you dripping with him, it’s really what gets him going. he’ll spit in your mouth and make you swallow it; he will drag his spit-slick fingers down your body and around your nipples; he will eat you out until his face is shining with your slick and then leave wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck— he likes it wet and sloppy and downright nasty. he’s also quite vocal in bed, although it’s mostly curses, and won’t hesitate to tell you “fuck, that’s so fuckin’ hot” if you do something that makes his dick twitch. his thrusts are, more often than not, hard and fast and a little on the primal side; his focus is to bring you both to your climax as fast as possible— unless there has been a near-death experience, where he takes his sweet time with you and it feels a lot more raw, intimate and emotional because it’s mostly in these moments that he allows himself to verbalize how much you mean to him and how he can’t live without you, which he doesn’t usually do because being vulnerable is something that terrifies him. all in all, sex with john is passionate, primal and efficient; it’s messy and horny and a little animalistic.

[merakiui]

time loop angst where floyd is destined to live the same day over and over with you, and he can't understand why that is. it's such an unremarkable day, too. just the two of you living life. it was fun the first few times, but now he's lost count of how many days have been lived in repetition and it's so boring. the only thing that makes it bearable is his little shrimpy. he's happy you're here with him, stuck in this insufferable time loop, otherwise he's sure he'd have gone insane from the repetition.

it isn't until floyd realizes that, outside of the loop, you're gone. you've been gone for years, and you're never coming back.

suddenly, the happy days aren't so pleasant. suddenly, he's forced to confront the very thing he's been avoiding.

the loop will end once floyd finally accepts it and moves on, intending to heal. he's been so stuck in his own head, unable to let go of the ghost of you, that he's put himself in this loop.

the worst part of it is that you don't know anything. the shrimpy he wakes up to every morning is so very tangible. you smile, you kiss him, you hug him. your heart is beating in your chest. you're breathing, alive in his arms like everything's okay.

floyd knows it's not right to stay in the loop, even though he desperately wants to. it'll only hurt him more, but goodness does it feel wonderful to embrace you after years apart. half of him doesn't want to move on. it's difficult to get out of bed when he's grieving. it's difficult to find the motivation to breathe and eat and do everything that often came normal to him before your passing. he has to try.

even when he feels stagnant, crushed and heartbroken, the world is always continuing in its usual current.

he has to try. it's all he can do. move forward and try even when it's a challenge.

the next time floyd wakes his bed is empty. he sits up in a dark room, the curtains closed to block out the sun. someone's been ringing his doorbell for what's felt like hours. he peers around the room. you're not here.

the loops's been broken.

floyd drags himself out of bed. the floor is covered in clutter: trash and dirty laundry and crumbs. he should clean that. you used to gently nag him when things got too messy, and he'd always listen. he's not sure how many days or weeks or months he's lived in the same t-shirt and sweatpants, so it's refreshing when he finally strips them off and showers. he doesn't think much. he moves on autopilot. the water feels nice.

the doorbell keeps ringing. floyd, simmering in his irritation, throws it open, ready to deliver a hard punch to whoever's stupid enough to stick around and bother him on this unremarkable monday morning.

jade stands on the other side of the door, holding a bag from the local bakery and a container of what looks to be homemade takoyaki. azul is just a few inches behind, fidgeting awkwardly on his feet. he's clutching a bouquet. it's a happy one, unlike the many mourning arrangements that were sent by friends and family in the wake of your passing.

floyd blinks at them, confused. "what's up?"

they stare back, owlish. azul clears his throat. "you... you're doing all right?" his tone is careful, treading lightly.

"you haven't been answering your phone," jade adds gently, cluing him in on one of the reasons for their concern and, thus, their arrival.

"oh. yeah, my bad. s'not charged. kinda forgot to keep up with it." floyd cards his hand through his hair, exhaling a heavy sigh. "didn't feel like talkin' to anyone, so i didn't want anyone callin'."

"would it be okay if we step in? we've brought your favorites."

floyd glances into his apartment for a minute and then back at jade and azul. he steps aside, shrugging. "be my guest."

he's going to try. for your sake. for jade's sake. for azul's sake. for his mother and father's sake. for his own sake.

he's going to try. one day at a time.

sitting at the table, eating takoyaki and chatting about simple, mundane things, floyd feels peace for the first time in years.

he's going to try. one day at a time.

[skbeaumont]

Texas Heat | Joel x Reader

Chapter 2: Same time next week?

Series masterlist Chapter 1 here

Chp. 2 summary: Your first tutoring session with Sarah goes as expected, until Joel gets home and sends your head spinning. Rating: Teen (for now) Tags/Warnings: flirting, sexual tension, age difference (reader is 25, Joel is 37), AU no outbreak Word Count: 2.4k A/N: Blown away by the response to my posts so far, thank you all so much! This story will be updated every Friday unless otherwise specified. Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for this and others.

Taglist: @mysterialee

The next couple of days pass by in a flurry of jetlag. The Adlers are nice: Easy to get on with, friendly but not in a way that makes you feel like you’re living on top of them. Connie’s cooking is good, if a little repetitive, and Danny is sweet and makes you laugh, telling you stories about his youth living in Austin. Nana doesn’t speak, but she has your mum’s eyes, and you spend the evenings sitting by her in the living room, reading the stack of novels you brought with you, enjoying the easy company and warm sunlight.

You see Joel outside through the window one early morning, casually ask Connie about him as you watch him load toolboxes and ladders into the bed of his truck. One kid, Sarah, a brother who lives with him, most of the time, no wife. This last shouldn’t send a spike of something like excitement down the back of your spine, but it does. You’d just assumed he was married when he’d told you about Sarah – no wedding ring, but working in construction, that made sense.

The knowledge that there isn’t a Mrs Miller makes you re-evaluate the car journey back from the airport, the way he’d let his arm rest along the back of your seat, that teasing, mischievous glint in his eye as he’d said goodbye, promising to take you up on your offer of maths lessons for Sarah. Those thoughts keep you up late that night, pressing your thighs together beneath the thin cotton top sheet in the Adler’s guest room.

Early Sunday evening you bump into Sarah in the driveway when you get back from Walmart, equipped with a new US sim card for your mobile. She’s sweet, even prettier in real life than in the photo you saw, not at all shy like you were when you were her age.

“Dad said you’re good at math,” she says without preamble, appearing from the side of Joel’s truck, looking at you with a sideways expression that’s a mix of consideration and incredulity.

“Pretty good, yeah.” You reply, stomach jolting at the thought of Joel talking about you, even if it’s to say something as benign as how talented you are at maths. “I’d be happy to help you out with homework, or whatever, if you want. I promise I’ll try not to make it too boring.”

Sarah smiles at this, the incredulity in her face morphing into approval, or as close to approval a thirteen year old can manage.

“You coming, Sarah?” Joel says, stepping out of the front door, head down as he examines something on the phone he’s holding. “Oh,” he says, looking up and seeing you, “hey.”

“Hi.”

He’s dressed the same as he was when he picked you up from the airport; dark t-shirt over faded jeans, the knees a little worn, but he’s wearing a baseball cap today, pulling his messy curls back from his forehead. You feel a blush inching up your neck as he so obviously tries to avoid checking you out in the tiny shorts you pulled on that morning.

“How are you settling in?” He asks, moving to stand next to Sarah by the truck.

He crosses his arms against his chest and the movement draws your eyes to his biceps, struggling against the tight sleeves of his tee. There’s a thin slither of a tan line just above where his shirt naturally falls, paler skin peeking out. It makes your head swim.

You clear you throat, refocus your eyes on his face.

“Good, I think. It’s a big change, but it’s nice. Hot, though.”

“Texan summers.” He replies, “Take a bit of getting used to if you ain’t suffered through one before.”

“I’ll say.”

“Sarah’s keen on those lessons, by the way.” He puts a hand on the girl’s shoulder, shakes her about so that she giggles. “Here,” He pulls out his mobile. “You got a US number yet?”

“Just picked up a new sim, actually” You pull your own mobile out, read off your number to him so that he can put it into his phone.

“I’ll text you later on,” He says, “we’re just heading out now.”

You say your goodbyes and leave the sweltering heat of the driveway, listening to Joel’s truck start up and pull off. Inside, Mercy greets you, rests her head on your knee as you collapse onto the sofa, clutching your mobile to your chest.

True to his word, Joel texts later that evening as you’re getting ready for bed.

Glad ur settling in ok. Would Tuesday work for math with Sarah? She gets back from school around 4. Joel.

You type out several draft replies before finally sending one that matches his straight-to-the-point tone.

Thanks. Tuesday works for me. See you then.

His response doesn’t arrive until the next morning, and when it does, your stomach sinks.

Sounds great. Will just be Sarah though, I’m working late Tuesday.

It’s almost embarrassing how disappointed you are by those last four words. In your head, it had been you, Sarah and Joel around their kitchen table, Joel’s toned forearms resting on warped wood, his deep chuckle in your ear as you worked through maths problems with Sarah. This makes you feel guilty, of course, because the whole point of this exercise is helping Sarah with her maths homework, not flirting with her father.

You fall back against the pillows of your bed. Around you, the room is already starting to feel a little like home. All of your toiletries are stacked up on the dressing table, and you’ve put your clothes away into the generous walk-in closet. Your books are scattered about the room, a few on the bedside table, another pile of them next to the full length mirror. The bed sheets are cool when you slip beneath them, bare legs sliding against soft cotton.

You stare at the green-grey light of your Nokia, looking at the last text from Joel, wondering if you should reply or just leave it. Best to play it cool, you decide, but restraint’s never been your strong suit and before you can stop yourself you’re typing out a reply, hitting the send button and grinning into the pillowcase.

That’s a shame. I was looking forward to testing your addition skills.

He doesn’t reply.

*****

Tuesday rolls around, bringing unrelenting sun and a dry heat that keeps you indoors most of the day. You help Connie rearrange her DVDs – an impressive collection – and take Nana out onto the porch in the early afternoon, waiting for Sarah to get home from school.

It’s just before four when she appears at the end of the cul-de-sac, hair bouncing around her shoulders as she makes her way towards you. She’s got her school bag slung over one shoulder, jeans rolled up at the ankles, a pair of scruffy Nikes on her feet. 

“Hi, Nana, Connie,” she calls as she approaches the porch, gaze turning to you, “math whizz,” she finishes, grinning.

“Hi yourself,” you return, pushing yourself out of the deckchair, brushing crumbs off of your bare legs. You say a quick bye to the Adlers and follow Sarah up her own driveway and into the cool, still air of the Miller’s kitchen.

It’s a little disorderly: there are pots scattered on the kitchen sides, and a menagerie of clutter on the table which sits under a window, bright afternoon sunlight streaming in. Sarah dumps her school bag on this, pushes a notepad, two tape measures and a pair of mugs out of the way so that you can sit beside her.

“Okay,” she says, drawing out an exercise book and placing it in front of her, “before we get into this I need you to understand that math is my weakest subject.”

“Right,” You say, watching her serious expression as she pushes the book across the table towards you, “understood.”

“And you need to promise me you won’t judge me based solely on my algebra skills, or lack of them.”

This makes you laugh, a chuckle bubbling up out of your throat. Sarah holds your gaze, her face still serious.

“Sorry,” you say, “I mean to say, I would never judge anyone based on their maths skills.”

Sarah’s face breaks into a grin. “I’m just messing with you.” She says, laughing at the look on your face. “I am pretty bad at algebra, though.”

She’s not. You work through a dozen or so exercises, helping her when she gets stuck, showing her where she’s going wrong, but she’s actually fairly good at the calculations once you’ve explained it to her a couple of times. The afternoon goes by quickly. After two hours or so Sarah stretches in her chair, yawning.  

“You wanna stay for dinner?” She asks, pushing the exercise book away from her. “It’s just leftover chicken casserole, but there’s enough if you want some.”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

You sit by as she reheats the casserole, refusing your offers of help. Instead, you look around the rest of the room, searching out little hints of Joel that are tucked about: A pair of worn leather sandals by the back door, two plaid shirts hanging on the back of the door to the living room, a battered, dog-eared copy of a drill instruction manual, well-read and ringed with coffee stains.

It’s comfortingly domestic, and it makes your chest ache a little, thinking of your mum back home in London, all the friends and familiarity you left behind. Then Sarah’s placing a hot plate of casserole in front of you, joking about the fact that you don’t look very much like a mathematician, by which she means you don’t resemble Albert Einstein.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You tell her, and she smiles.

“You should. You’re much prettier than he was.”

You help Sarah do the dishes, stacking them neatly on the side to be put away later. After, Sarah asks if you want to stay and watch a movie, and you both spread yourselves out on the sofa in the Miller’s living room, flick on the television and watch Tim Allen and Sigourney Weaver mess about in outer space.

Sarah falls asleep before the film ends, even though the sun hasn’t fully set and its barely ten. You’re debating waking her when there’s a rattling from the kitchen and the sound of the front door creaking open. Joel.

You hear him clear his throat, scrape his boots on the door mat and then his deep voice is cutting through the silence of the house. “Sarah? You still up, baby?”

Sarah shifts where she’s asleep next to you but doesn’t stir. You push yourself off the sofa, step into the kitchen. Joel’s pulling off a toolbelt from around his waist, thick fingers unbuckling the clasp in a way that makes your heart rate jump up.

“Hey,” You say, leaning against the doorframe.

He jumps, his eyes shooting up to you before recognition softens his gaze.

“Hi,” He replies, finally working the toolbelt off and letting it drop onto the worktop beside him, “I didn’t expect you to still be here. Everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah, fine. Sarah made me dinner and we watched a movie. Well, she fell asleep.”

Joel chuckles at this, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, she has a habit of doin’ that.”

“Work okay?” You ask, thinking you should probably leave him to a restful evening, not wanting to at all.

“Long,” He says, rubbing at the coarse stubble on the side of his jaw. “How did math go?”

“Good. She’s bright, just needed a little bit of guidance with it.”

“Always been switched on. Dunno where she gets it from.” He steps around the kitchen island, rolling his jacket down off of his shoulders as he goes, narrow hips winding around the island and the fridge toward you.

He pulls a ten dollar note out of his back pocket, hands it to you between two thick, calloused fingers. “For the lesson,” He says.

“You don’t have to, Joel, honestly.”

“S’only fair, darlin’” He proffers the note again and you take it, trying not to think about the way that casual darlin’ has gone straight to your head, blood rushing to your cheeks so that they feel like they’re on fire.

“She in there?” Joel asks then, nodding behind you to the lounge. “Oh, yeah,” You turn, let Joel look past you into the darkness of the living room, where Sarah is spread out on the sofa, breathing deeply, eyes flickering in the dull light from the paused DVD. 

As he leans into the room he steps toward you, the movement bringing him distractingly close, making you notice how much taller he is than you, how much broader. The t-shirt he’s wearing is stretched almost painfully across his shoulders, wear showing in the stressed seams. The patchy stubble at his jaw is longer than it was a few days ago, covering the sharpness of his jaw, the strong lines of his throat.

He looks away from Sarah’s form on the sofa then, his dark eyes flicking over your face, catching you watching him. You feel a blush creeping along your neck and up to your cheeks, and try to look away, but he’s holding your gaze, pupils wide in the dim light. Then his eyes dip down to your lips, follow the slight movement of your tongue as it worries at the edge of your mouth.

You can feel heat rolling off of him in waves and you wonder how it would be to push yourself up onto tip-toes and kiss the corner of his plush lower lip. This close, you can see the thin creases that line his eyes, the beginnings of grey in his dark eyebrows, raised slightly and pinching in the middle as he looks at you.

Your head is tilted up, your breath mingling in the dizzyingly narrow space between you. He clears his throat. You both realise, quite suddenly, how close you’re standing. Before you can say anything he’s moving back, tension breaking as he takes the white-hot heat of his body with him, leaving you flushed and dizzy.

“I should get Sarah to bed.” He says into the silence.

There’s a flush in his tanned face, painting his cheeks a deep red-brown, evidence that you aren’t alone in your distraction, in the surge of arousal that seems to be lighting you up from the inside. He runs a hand through already dishevelled hair.

“Right,” you reply, hoping he can’t hear the quaver in your throat, “I should head home.”

Outside, you rest for a moment against the wall next to the Adler’s front door.

Your heart is still thumping in your chest, each beat a reminder of the look in Joel’s eyes as he towered over you, his breath hot on your face, pupils blown wide because of the darkness, or maybe something else.

Before you get inside, your phone buzzes. The text is from Joel.

Same time next week?

You grin at the screen.

[cupidlovesastro]

aries moon

aries is ruled by mars, the planet of aggression, anger, competition, passion, desire, sex, and action. the aries personality is leadership, aggressive, passionate, go getting, creative, impulsive, bold, and hot headed. aries is also a fire sign which shows passion, being daring, risk taking, creative, optimistic and opportunist.

moon represents emotions, intuitions, comforts, unconscious mind, instincts, spirituality, motherhood, fertility, femininity, and your home.

so what does it mean when these two interlink?

♈︎ aries is a passionate sign, and the moon is emotional, so when these two qualities clash it can make an explosion. your emotions are bold and unafraid to be expressed. they are strong and want to be heard. your emotions are likely not easy to deal with. you could feel anger the most, as if it’s your default emotion. you don’t like when you have to hold yourself back. you have have a drive within you that others may not understand as well. your emotions could lead you into doing reckless and impulsive behaviors. you act on your instincts fast and once your in the motions, it could be hard to stop you. it may also take little to no effort to make you snap at someone if you're already in a mood. with aries being represented as a masculine sign and moon representing femininity, this could be another clash that is presented by this placement. you could have a hard time choosing between logical and calculated or emotional and intuition.

♈︎ if you are a creative person, your inspiration comes from within. the reason you got into art to begin with could’ve been because your emotions are hard to cope with. aries is an expressive personality and the moon is instinctual, so expressing your inner artist is no hard task. your style of art could have loud colors, messiness, and things that clash together.

♈︎ one of the things the moon represents your mother, or a mother figure in your life. your mother could’ve been an angry person or a aggressive. your mother may not have been the fanciest or richest, but they were go getters. she could've kept you in sports or encouraged you to stay physically active. your mother could've also had a bold and passionate personality. she spoke her mind and could've been in a line of work that involved physical activities, creativity, or a job that many would find "risky".

♈︎ your home life could’ve been somewhat hectic, not necessarily in a bad way. as in hectic i mean there could’ve been many siblings, a baby that was always crying, or just a lot going on all at once. there could’ve been a lot of people with a “leader” personality which could’ve caused arguments and fights in the home. there also could’ve been people that were quick to action, in a good or bad way. there could’ve also been a lot of opportunities presented to you because of your family though, and your family could’ve been encouraging and optimistic.

♈︎ moon also represents things that comfort you and things that bring you peace. you could find comfort through physical activities or trying new things. for example, a new kind of food, traveling somewhere you never been before, etc. having intercourse with someone could also release tension from your stress. you could also enjoy action movies or tv shows.

♈︎ things that could make you sad is when your unmotivated, bored, being pessimistic, and repetitive routines. you don’t like it when you feel unmotivated because you feel as if you could be doing something more productive. you enjoy life when things are lively, and constantly moving. your an opportunistic person, when you see an opportunity, you often take the risk. you dislike when the world is still for too long, or when you haven’t accomplished something in awhile.

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

Baz's raised eyebrow:

(yet another "Simon identifies as 'Baz-sexual' for very good reasons' post)

few things have annoyed me more with these books than when people do not take Simon's "I don't know anything about anything but maybe I'm just a Baz-sexual" comments seriously (dismissing it with a combination of not paying attention to what he's putting down and good old confirmation bias). He even says it in less "goofy" ways with lines such as "he's the only person I have ever wanted" (in the context of thinking about having sex) (note the emphasis on ever) (yes, it's one of the clues saying he didn't want to have it with Agatha, in case it's not clear)

"Like Baz has only ever wanted Simon, Simon has only ever wanted Baz," is necessary to bring up before I get to my point here. I have seen Simon being read as in love or attracted to Agatha ("he must have been or else how they had sex?"... I mean, Simon tells you why it happened without attraction, but even if he didn't, we could make an alphabetized list of reasons it can happen without it, the desire to fit in is no joke) or the idea of Simon liking all sorts of girls, including the girl he pointedly doesn't notice despite her being obvious to others, for the sake of drama and conflict. I have wondered if they don't believe the characters, or if they find the highlighted sentence here boring. "It's boring if the characters only want each other," "in real life people want multiple people" – indeed, but not everyone is wired the same (and why are we stuck on "real life" so much anyway in stories about half-dragon and vampire boys falling in love). But it's not like this sentence is without conflict. Note Baz's eyebrow...

In CO, when Simon says Trixie is cute, Baz's reaction is a boyish "I'm going to puke" comment, which is likely part of how he dealt with jealousy and thinking Simon was straight for years: masking his feelings with "harsh" or sort of "edgy" jokes (probably not the right words to use, but getting too hung up on precise wording is the reason I never finish these posts). In awtwb, Simon calls Pippa cute, and Baz raises an eyebrow...

By those reactions, we could say the idea of Simon calling someone cute because he finds them attractive crosses Baz's mind – or is something he feels in some way, even if the thought doesn't explicitly cross his mind. It's something the reader might assume as well... however, I don't think the way Simon uses cute – which can be used in many different situations – says anything about attraction for him. I mean, a gay man can see a girl being cute or gorgeous as well – Baz certainly does! (attraction is portrayed in these books as thoughts derailed, repetition, sentences being cut off, fixating in a detail no one else notices like they do – you see it with Baz and Simon, Agatha and Niamh, Shepard and Penny. Shep doesn't just call Penny cute – he loses his entire goddamn mind for a whole page about her cuteness and her knees. It's not just a passing comment).

I don't think those scenes when Simon says "cute" is highlighting something about him, other than the fact that he's able to note cuteness. I think it's saying more about Baz's insecurities (I know I once posted something long about it somewhere...) Baz brings attention to it in a way with his reactions... because he's bothered by it. It's something that's sort of hidden and sort of contained, but it's there.

Baz doesn't find himself desirable, partly because of his vampiric nature. But part of it is also about the complicated and messy fear that perhaps... Simon has a problem with being with a man (I know I have unpacked this in other posts, finding them though...). Perhaps "a girl would be better" (It's messier with boys than with girls, it's a thought that comes out before he catches himself with "I don't actually know anything about being with boys or girls".... "I don't know anything about being in a relationship," he says, while still being able to catch there was something wrong with Agatha and Simon's relationship when Simon talks about – because Simon will process things he would rather avoid when it's about opening up to Baz, he wants Baz to know things that would help Baz understand him better, even if he himself would rather not understand... still Baz can't let go of the programming of all those years believing in the golden couple – he has spent a longer time believing that than dating Simon, after all) (Agatha is alive and beautiful, the sort of beauty that's used to "embody" "desirability".... and Baz is "not alive"...) (as a side note, have you noticed the idea – or the actual action – of sex with Agatha is used both with Simon and Baz to indicate a lack of desire toward women?)...

While Simon thinks of Baz as the only person he has ever wanted – Baz is as desirable as it gets for him – Baz struggles with feeling desirable at all. Baz doubts and wonders and has to catch himself – even if he doesn't notice he's doing that. Even if he doesn't consciously think "a beautiful girl who is alive is more preferable than me, a gay male vampire." That is a far more interesting conflict than Baz having legit reasons to be jealous, I think. The fact that he has truly nothing to feel jealous about, and yet... he just can’t help it. It's hard to go against years of programming, of going against the idea that everything about yourself is undesirable and it's better to hide it – another way he matches with Simon. They also match in their insecurities, with small differences: Baz is so amazing and attractive while Simon doesn't feel like he's good enough for him, he can do better than him, etc... while Baz clearly only has eyes for Simon, Simon feels like Baz is merely stuck with him. And the conflict here is that you think "they need to TALK and voice their thoughts for the love of god, what do you mean Baz doesn't know Simon sees him as the love of all his lives??"... talking is not enough. That Simon and Baz only have eyes for each other is not without conflict. Sometimes we need to keep hearing some things, and even then... the fears and insecurities don't go away. Especially when we have spent a really long time believing ourselves to be unwanted, undesirable, something to be hidden. When we have been exposed to things that confirmed those beliefs for longer than we have been exposed to things that challenge them

[iztea]

Do you recommend any tutorials for new artists?

i'm gonna be honest with you, I've been out of the loop with recent tutorials so let me tell you about my goats sinix, marco bucci and ahmed aldoori

when I was first getting started, I binge-watched all of sinix videos. he has a great way with words and I've assimilated many of his principles and ideas, which I still use in my approach to this day. I recommend his Anatomy Quick Tips series and his Paintover Pals series (aka art critiques), but honestly just watch all his videos, he covers some very niche but handy topics that I don't see brought up that often. He also has one or two videos about digital art for beginners or intermediates so maybe start there and see how you like it.

Marco Bucci has great videos for understanding colors, lighting and taking a more messy-painterly approach to your paintings (which I've always naturally leaned into anyways). He has this series called 10 minutes to better painting where he basically goes over the fundamentals but in a very fun and digestible way. He also covers niche topics including post-processing tips which are verrryyy much looked over when it comes to digital art.

ahmed aldoori is just generally great at explaining and demos. He's probably the first person I'd go to if I needed help understanding anything art-related, and I mean anyytthinggg (hands, environments, portraits etc ) his channel is kinda messy but i'd recommend watching his critique videos because, again, he explains concepts very well while maintaining a chill and relaxed attitude, which I think may help alleviate any sort of anger or frustration that often affect new artists (and not only) i apologize if this is not the answer you were looking for but honestly, i can't think of particular videos i can wholeheartedly recommend outside of these channels because they're what I watched myself, and I can only speak from my own experience. And like I said in the beginning, i kinda just don't watch tutorials anymore because they feel repetitive like they're saying the same things i already know and it's boring so i have different ways to learn now If anyone else has any other recommendations for anon please share them with the class!

[juniorfor2]

The amount of fans who say that they wanted the Team Black family, specifically the kids, to have more arguments in order to make them more interesting like Team Green are confusing.

First, saying that Team Black should be ‘complex and interesting’ in the same way Team Green is, is the least complex and interesting development ever. It would be repetitive, with absolutely nothing new. No characterization, just a useless parallel that would contribute nothing besides another both sides are bad argument. Which we’ve all heard a thousand times by now, we don’t need to hear it again.

Second, that’s just too easy. Team Black is a very messy family - it’s got an uncle/niece relationship that’s been separated for 10 years, illegitimate Velaryon siblings that look nothing like the rest of TB, two black twins that haven’t been raised in Westeros, who all have to juggle being both step-siblings to each other and betrothed pairs, two very new half-brothers, and absolutely none of them have a very similar personality, except perhaps for Daemon and Baela. That’s got to be one of the most confusing and chaotic families ever made.

So the expected development would be for them to break apart. To have arguments. To never get along. That’s the easy route, because writing it would come without thinking. Jace doesn’t like Daemon? Super easy. Daemon wants to kill the Velaryon boys for his own sons while being sexist towards his daughters and their prospects of becoming Queen/Lady of High Tide? Boring and easy, no effort required. None of the siblings have a relationship with each other unless forced to? Don’t even have to write a line for that.

It’s simply not complex by a writing standpoint, because all of it can be written without putting in effort. The lines will write themselves, without needing to think of how everything affects the characters. In fact, nothing would affect the characters, because none of them would make the effort to be with or interact with each other. Nothing could develop or characterize them in a new way.

The better development would be for them to all come together despite those differences. To care for one another after having their initial families torn apart. The development as they all try to get along can result in arguments, and it won’t be perfect. However, everything that could happen would come from a place of love, and trying one’s best even with an odd and imperfect situation.

Jace might be uncertain about Daemon’s feelings toward his illegitimacy, but couldn’t they both be dedicated towards protecting the family? Daemon might want his blood on the throne, but shouldn’t it be easy for him to pass it through his daughters - it’s not like Baela is about to be submissive and take orders she doesn’t like from Jace. Joffrey isn’t Daemon’s son, but he will be raised by him his whole life - what’s that dynamic like? Rhaena doesn’t have a dragon, but could she be willing enough to learn diplomacy and politics and fashion from her stepmother? How does Rhaenyra even take being a stepmother, after such a bad relationship with her own? How did Rhaenyra and Daemon fully get back together - what arguments did they have, how did they resolve them, what were the better times they had together before the war? How did everyone take Rhaenyra being pregnant with Aegon after Laena just died of childbirth?

Exploring development like that would be better, and it would also be new. Not just ‘oh I wish Team Black wouldn’t get along so well and it’s so uninteresting, look at what it does to Team Green.’ We don’t need the exact relationship repeated.

It would also be nice to see a family that shouldn’t work at all, make it come together because of how dedicated they are to protecting and loving each other. That would actually be complex and interesting.

[chaifootsteps]

as a fizzarozzie lover i HATE crooked. like i dont mind it being so sweet it gives me diabetes. i DO mind that the song itself is boring, repetitive, has bad lyrics, and somehow makes two of the biggest talents on broadway right now sound … mid

house of asmodeus wins. easy. they should have made their love song jazzier or something

In a lot of ways, all the ones that count, House of Asmodeus was their real love song. It was loud, exuberant, bursting at the seams with how much fun they were having being assholes to this guy killing the vibe at their club, how much they loved performing, how much they loved each other. They were all over each other during that song, serving as each other's figurative and literal support. It was beautiful.

Crooked has them say "We're messy together, we wouldn't have it any other way" after a few episodes of watering down their messiness. House of Asmodeus had them show it.

[aetherswhxre]

I just need some dew smut pls all the vids I’ve been seeing of him at rituals have me going feral

The Ritual

Summary: When Dew lures you down to the basement, the activities that take place are not for the faint of heart.

TRIGGER WARNING: BLOOD

In case anyone ever asked, you’d definitely be able to tell them that blood was indeed a sticky substance. The liquid was dripping down your nude body, staining the skin in its wake. Deft hands move across your sternum spreading the warm wetness as if he were painting and you - his canvas. You pulled back from him, your bloody hands entangling into his already messy hair.

When he lured you into the basement, this had been the last thing you were expecting. He had calmly beckoned you over, a sleek silver knife laying heavy in his palm. Making some poor excuse of needing a willing partner for a ritual, he pulled you over to stand in the middle of a pre-drawn circle. Being one of absolute consent (when he was in his right mind), he ran the status of the ritual by you and made you verbally agree several times. Then he made you strip before his very eyes.

But now, as his hips rutted upwards, he fucked you as if you were simply a toy. The animalistic pace in which he set nearly had you knocked off balance as you rode him. You could catch glimpses of his cut palm, blood still pouring profusely from the wound. Gliding his uninjured hand upwards, he slid it against the skin of your upper chest, moving upwards to grasp at your throat. Nimble fingers encased your neck, applying a small amount of pressure.

“Just like that, baby. You ride my cock so well,” he spoke into the open space between you. You gasped as his sliced hand proceeded to smear more of the warm, metallic liquid over the span of your chest, the thin layer vibrant against your skin. His eyes bore into yours, the blue irises dark with need. Dew’s eyebrows knit together as you squeezed around him, a growl slipping through his bared teeth.

As he tightened the grip he had on your throat, his bloodied hand dropped to grip at the left side of your hip, now shoving you down onto his length. You cried out, yanking the ghouls head back by his hair. His blood now dripped down the sides of your left leg. You could barely make out the way his tail flicked in a quick repetitive motion each time you managed to clamp around his cock.

The flames of the candles around you were almost burned down as Dew wrestled you onto your back, his teeth latching onto the skin of your chest. In a lust filled haze, he managed to break the skin with his sharp teeth, rumbling low once the sweet taste of your blood melded onto his tongue. His hips slammed into yours as the sound of him thrusting into you with reckless abandon echoed throughout the cold basement. You tossed your head to the side, eyes closed, unable to keep them open as white hot pleasure mixed with the pain as it coursed through your veins.

The sound of your cries of ecstasy bounced off of the stone walls as you thrashed about. You could feel the dried blood on your skin crack as you twisted about. You flailed around beneath your ghoul, the mix of pleasure and pain almost becoming too much for you. You could feel him lapping at the skin of your chest, pulling away only to rest his weight completely on his left arm. He brought his still bleeding right hand to the area, spreading the mix of your blood and his across the span of your chest. ”So fucking perfect for me.”

You keened at his words, reaching a hand to gather some of the blood that still leaked from the wound on your chest. You felt a visceral need to mark the ghoul as you smeared the red liquid across his chest. He grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. Dew brought the bloodied hand to his lips and wrapped his forked tongue around a singular digit, bringing it into his mouth. You whimpered at the sight as his eyes rolled back into his skull, his hips stuttering slightly.

When you lean up to try and get closer to the ghoul, he is quick to stop you, his blood coated hand holding you down at the base of your throat. “Don’t. I want to look at you covered in my blood.” It was a simple command but you obeyed, small whines leaving you as your need to objectify his orders grew stronger. But you knew better. You knew what Dew was capable of. You’ve seen his worst.

“Please i’m so close Dew, please,” you breathily spoke, your body moving in time with his thrusts. You could tell that he was close as well, the drive of his hips faltering with each minute that passed. Your sweating worsened and you knew it was caused by the ghoul above you. The immense heat that radiated off of him grew hotter by the second. He gave one particularly hard thrust, “Beg for it. Beg for my knot.”

“Fucking hell, Dew, ple-e-ease, please knot me,” you pleaded, tears springing to your eyes.

He grabbed your right leg and threw it over his shoulder, opening you more to him. His hand had managed to now slowly bleed as the wound tried to close, leaving a small line surrounded by copious amounts of both new and dried blood. His clawed hands dug into the upper sides of your neck, pricking the soft skin in their wake. “You’re going to take everything I give to you, aren’t you Doll?”

You quickly nodded your head, whimpering out a chant of ‘please please please’ as his thrusts became quicker and deeper. With each push of his hips, you could feel the base of his cock swell with his knot. Dew managed to surprise a lot of his partners with how big he could get. Most people looked at him and scoffed, turning their attention to one of the bigger ghouls. But those who agreed to lay with the ghoul always managed to get the surprise of their life when they tried to take his knot.

With each deep thrust, you could feel his knot slowly sink into you until, with a single jolt of his hips, he managed to push it inside you. He released a guttural snarl into the hot air of the space around you. The pressure was almost too much for you, quickly sending you over the edge as you felt a warmth fill you up internally. You felt his hand leave your neck to smear the remainder of the blood across your cheeks, pushing your face to the side and into the cool stone floor.

You came with a cry of the ghouls name, the jumbled mess of syllables rocky as his hand prohibited much talking. With your neck on full display, the ghoul couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward and fully bit into the sweaty flesh. Back arching off the ground, you felt another orgasm wash over you, almost taking you into the black abyss. You could feel your blood leaking from your neck as he growled at the taste of your blood on his tongue yet again. White hot pleasure coursed through your veins rampantly as you took every ounce of pleasure and pain he gave you.

Your body eventually grew limp, rag dolling back onto the floor beneath you. Dew stayed in his position, his tongue running over the mark he had left on your neck. “You taste…so sweet…for me. All…for me,” he spoke in between the laps of his tongue over the mark. You had heard rumors about how possessive the ghoul was with each of his partners but now you managed to finally understand.

He finally collapsed onto you, his body weight nearly crushing you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to coherently care. It took several minutes for him to pull himself from your neck, his hand now coming up to smear the remainder around carefully. The two of you were breathing heavily as you came down from your highs. And if anyone were to come in at this very moment, you were sure they would have thought this a murder scene.

You knew you were covered in copious amounts of the ghouls blood, spanning from your face all the way down to your thighs. And you knew he looked about the same. As your breathing slowly evened out, you decided to ask a question that had been heavy on your mind. “Dew, what was the ritual for?”

He paused his ministrations to pull back from you, leaning his weight onto his left arm once again. He stared down at you as you ran your fingers up and down his right side.You cocked your head to the side and looked up into his now clearer blue eyes. He assessed your body, his right hand trailing down the middle of your chest in even strokes. “There was no ritual,” he honestly spoke. “I just wanted to see you covered in my blood.”

You laughed loudly, reaching up to shove at his shoulder, jostling him slightly. “You could have just said that you know.” He smirked down at you. “Now that would have ruined the fun, yes?” His tail reached around him to wrap around your wrist, bringing your other bloodied hand to his lips. As he drew a finger into his mouth yet again, his eyes twinkled with mischief. “There is a ritual I can think of that I wouldn’t mind completing with you.”

You watched in awe as he spoke, your arousal rearing its head once again. “And what ritual would that be, fire ghoul?” His eyes burned once more with lust as he leaned down to whisper into your ear. “A ritual to give me something that I want.” Dropping your now cleaned hand to your side, you pressed further for an answer. “And what is it that you want?” His breath was hot on your neck as he mumbled the last thing you’d think the ghoul would say.

“A child.”

[taysanimaladventures]

I've been at my new job for a few weeks now. The job can be kind of boring and repetitive sometimes, there's some stress from it being busy and fast-paced, and there's been a few questionable managerial decisions that resulted in things being messy.

Still, I come in and feel so content and I find myself smiling and joking around a lot. I can leave at the end of the day and not give a single thought to what I'm leaving behind. If mistakes are made by me I can fix it and move on. If others make mistakes I literally do not have to care. I can shrug my shoulders and move on with life.

My coworkers complain about the job but for me I feel like nothing can phase me because the animal care field already put me through the worst. My bar is in hell. I feel like a massive weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Work is no longer an act of passion for me, but rather a neutral place that supports my ability to live. While I miss doing what I love, I am way happier without the stress of it.

I am free.

[georgegraphys]

Mercedes needs a brand new social media team. They can't keep doing repetitive contents like there are 0 trends out there. There is better content planning i swear 🥲🥲🥲 They worked BETTER but they need to get rid of those "repetitive" ones. It's not creative at all.

I understand that they are people who work hard as well but if you're in that position, you gotta deliver better... As harsh as this might sound, it's their job. They can't keep doing these lazy repetitive jokes. Third time is the maximum for these contents. You might think i'm over-critical and harsh but this is THEIR JOB guys. Being creative is THEIR JOB. When you are paid to do your job description, you work for that. There might be external factors such as "higher ups not agreeing to other contents" yes i understand but that's the challenge itself! Deliver something new but is still within that criteria.

It's also a bit unfair how one driver gets portrayed seriously and gets their achievement highlighted, being the centre of the post while the other gets turned to a stupid meme. Once again, the creativity died in Mercedes. I thought we were getting better but the boring admin came back. They need to stop turning everything into a "meme". Repeating content is alright but THREE times in the maximum. That's the common sense.

If you're saying i'm being too harsh, you simply need to go out there and land a job. Even start up companies or small businesses whose name is unknown has better content creation than this. They are not establishing a "Mercedes brand" on their social media either. Nothing of Mercedes at all. They are just doing another messy job. Like... Man... We regressed AGAIN? I look into Merc's feed on instagram and I feel proud back then because they improved. But we're back to square one now???