#willing my brain to be creative

[nokomiss]

prompts open!

I'm opening up for prompts again! Last time I managed to answer them all (Yay!!) so I'm hoping I can do that again, and the added pressure of knowing someone is waiting on it helped motivate me to write! (it's been a crazy year y'all.) So if there's something you'd like to see me write, send me a character/pairing and a prompt!

[monstriiss]

'my desperate desire to connect and interact more' vs 'my chronic burn out and social anxiety' smack down

[ghostzzy]

slept like shit last night, spent the entire morning sick to my stomach and fighting my own ribcage, spent the entire afternoon helping my mom move furniture, spent the entire evening with a migraine

[ofvalor]

❔

send ❔ and i’ll list a couple muses that i’d like to throw at yours! / always accepting

obviously any of the whedonverse muses i have!

klaus mikaelson would be an interesting dynamic with wesley, i think. or really any tvdu muse mushed up with btvs/ats worldbuilding!

vivian bluit ( vampire oc ) and isabella townsend ( werewolf oc / fantasy based ) would also be interesting to see, but i'd be willing to throw any modern, non-supernatural based muse at you too!

[mercy-burning]

A Kindness You Can't Afford

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary: Something that started out as 'stress relief between co-workers' is now a little concerning to you, but for some reason you can't help but keep letting Spencer walk through your door... Rating: Mature (18+) Content: Strong language, unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, blink-and-you'll-miss-it choking, squirting (As always, let me know if I missed anything!) Word Count: 2.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: @imagining-in-the-margins sent me lyrics to Hozier's It Will Come Back to entice me to write something for her monthly challenge (which is themed Friends With Benefits), and then this happened. You can thank her for this. And also Emily Henry, because I read Happy Place and Beach Read back to back recently, and DAMN IT if I wasn't itching to do some romance-writing of my own. Sure, this one is less romance and more porn without plot, but I digress. The inspiration is there and that's all that matters. Plus I've started working on something else that probably won't see the light of day for a long while, but it's nice to feel the motivation. I'm starting to feel like myself again :) I don't know how long this creative sparkling cloud of dust is going to last, but I'm grateful to be living in it, if at least for a little while. It feels good to be there again <3

Enjoy!!

*******

There's a small pit in your gut that only deepens when you hear a knock at the door. A chill permeates your nervous system and sends you off on shaky limbs until you reach it, and as your palm comes in contact with the cool metal of the doorknob, you're disappointed to discover that the contrast does nothing to comfort the hot and clammy skin. Unless the person behind the door turns out not to be who you think, you will not know that comfort.

You open the door anyway, already used to this feeling of unease. It's a feeling you've come to tolerate, and sometimes even crave in desperate moments. Tonight has not seen one of those moments, but you suppose that doesn't really matter because you've already agreed to his terms, and unless you call it off, you're stuck. You've seriously considered doing it a few times, but something deep inside tells you he might not like it very much, and you're unsure of how he'll react.

It isn't a risk you're willing to take.

And so, you meet Spencer Reid with a bright smile, pretending not to know why he could possibly be outside your door past 9pm. He looks a little sleep deprived, but it's nothing new. Your work is exhausting. It was a major deciding factor and is the driving force behind your agreement in the first place. A way to relieve stress. Somewhere along the way, it seemed to have turned into something darker, though in retrospect that darkness has always been there. You often think back to the first time you initiated intimacy— how excited you were that he seemed willing to take you up on the offer... How your head swam through glittering mist and your heart beat quickly at his words.

"God, Y/N, I need you to be sure... Because once we go there, once you let me in... Even after I leave, I'm always going to be there... You're going to feel me everywhere you go, and that's a promise..."

In the moment it even sounded romantic, and in some twisted way, it might still be. But you don't want to let your brain misconstrue this whole situation. You've promptly decided to take it for what it is and accept the fact that he has some deep desires he needs to expel, and you're just a convenient companion for the journey.

"Spencer, you're here late..."

He exhales through his nose. "No later than usual."

"Right... Come on in." You widen the door and confidently step aside like you wouldn't know any different.

Rather than let you close the door, he'd taken your words as an invitation to make himself at home, pushing it shut with his foot and jolting you forward with it, subsequently pulling you towards him. His hands are quick to guide your face to his own, and without a second more in passing, the night has officially begun.

Electricity is immediate, sizzling through your core at Spencer's drive. It's true that when you're alone, it's difficult not to overthink the situation and rope the emotional and logical side of it to the forefront of your mind. But being with him like this dissipates the thinking entirely. All you know is that it feels so good, and it's absolutely worth all the turmoil you put your brain through.

It's worth it when his tongue possesses your own and coaxes the most sinful, desperate noises from the depths of your chest, and when your delicate fingers find purchase in his hair. It's worth it when your back is up against the door with his knee wedged between your thighs. It's worth it when his hand glides down your jaw until each finger curls around your neck, not choking you but simply resting there like a necklace would. He squeezes gently for a second each time you twitch your hips, desperate to feel friction, and you whimper.

You've come to learn that the more noises you make, the more he rewards you with... well, more. So it doesn't take very long for him to decide that enough is enough, and he pulls away from you to turn you around. You brace your arms on the door and lean your head to the left so he can work.

Warm lips attach to your neck as nimble fingers snake around your front and dip below the band of your lounge shorts and underwear. Your insides hum to life, and your legs naturally spread apart a little further, making Spencer laugh against your skin. You half expect him to tease you, but the surprise leaves your body in the form of a rather whorish Oh! when he spreads you apart and glides his fingers through your warm cunt. He explores you thoroughly, circling and spreading and plunging his fingers inside you, until eventually he continues a slow and steady pace running up and down your clit. You can feel it in his breath, in the way it stutters over your neck— He's about to give you your first orgasm of the night. If his skilled hands wouldn't do it (which you know they will), his words definitely would.

"Mmmm, I love how warm you are, Y/N," he slurs into your neck. Then he lightly nips at your shoulder and quickens the pace and pressure on your clit. "And how fucking messy you get for me..."

You know what he wants, but even if you hadn't, it still would have happened. The first time he made you squirt, he'd been determined to do it again. And again. In every different way possible. Over the course of your stress-relief-escapades you've come to learn that this particular way (with his hand down your loose-fitting shorts) is his favorite. He never strives to do it anymore unless you're wearing a pair. Perhaps it's the sounds, or the feeling of your damp clothes and the desperate need to peel them away in favor of something more solid, but it's become your favorite way, too.

Your nails scratch at the door as you pant and sigh your way through an intense building orgasm, and Spencer leans forward with you, using his free hand to assist in holding you up as he furiously works at your clit with the other. His chin rests on your shoulder as he huffs out, "Go on, baby, let it out..."

He knows you're close, and those final encouraging words seem to snap the coil tightening inside you. Your thighs tense for just a second before you feel every wave of pleasure crashing into every limb. And then, you're able to relax and ride it out, letting him hold you up and pull the orgasm out of you like magic. It's wet, it's warm, and it's fucking sensational...

You can practically see the wild look in Spencer's eyes even if you couldn't actually see him at all. His presence is always, as promised, so inherently there, that even now it's a vivid image. His pupils are an empty abyss, and if you look too closely you're sure to fall in. Hell, you're not even positive that you haven't already fallen in, because the thought of calling it all off when it feels this good seems, simply put, wrong. Why would you ever want to deprive yourself of this feeling? His possessive, damn-near monstrous way of loving you as concerning as it is, had taken you to the highest places you'd ever known. Even if it isn't 'love' on paper, you certainly love it anyway. And he must love it, too, otherwise he wouldn't keep coming back.

He only comes back because you let him in in the first place, the rational part of your brain tries to reason, though it can't quite break through the fog of lust. At this point, it's so thick that you aren't sure it's ever going to clear.

Not that, right now, you'd mind...

Once your breathing slows and your legs gather the strength to pivot, Spencer removes his hand from your shorts and gently guides you to turn around. His lips are on yours immediately, and he's tugging at your shorts and underwear to pull them down. They drop to the ground and without a second to spare, he tugs you along through your living room and over to the couch. It's practically a straight shot to the bedroom from here, but apparently time is not a luxury he can afford this evening, because you barely have time to anticipate what his next move might be before he makes it.

Mouths still attached, the two of you nearly fall on the couch, and Spencer's weight covers you like a blanket. His hips pin yours down and his arms have taken to pinning your own above your head. He nips at your bottom lip and pulls away for a moment, but you chase him, trying to lean up and keep kissing him and whimpering when you can't.

A low laugh exhales from his chest. "And I thought I was the needy one in this relationship..."

He shifts then, getting up and kneeling between your bare legs to start undoing his pants. Meanwhile you lift your shirt over your head, grateful you'd already ditched the bra earlier in the afternoon. Less time to waste.

Seeing you completely bare from head to toe and ready for him seems to amplify that animalistic quality in Spencer that's so unlike the aura of the boy you met years and years ago. Whether he had that quality before he'd met you is unknown, but it's hard to imagine. You like to think that you and you alone have single-handedly created this primal sexual being simply by expressing interest in what youcould offer him amongst the joint understanding of the daily hardships that leech onto a BAU agent. Regardless of the truth, the sheer sense of power it fills you with... In every deep stroke of his cock, in every mark left behind, and in every praise sung, there is this irreplaceable strength that you cling to long after he's gone.

No hard truth would ever take that feeling away, and so you can't help the grin that manifests at his urgency. You can tell he wants nothing more than to sink into you immediately; he visibly struggles for a moment before opting to fully slide his pants and underwear off together until they're tossed over somewhere into the abyss. You half-expect him to whip his shirt off to join them, but instead he lunges forward and covers you again, muffling your whimpers with his mouth as one hand guides himself into your slick cunt.

You can feel the rumble in his chest the moment he's all the way in and you clench around him. He rests his forehead to yours and kisses you deeply before asking, "You ready for me, Y/N?"

The low echoing tone in his voice seems to answer in the momentary silence that follows.

You better be... 

It sends a chill down to the marrow of your bones.

You barely whisper out, "Yes," and before the last letter leaves your mouth, Spencer has pulled back and snapped his hips forward, starting a slow and brutal pace inside you. Your legs spread wide naturally, giving him all the room in the world to position himself to handle you however he wants. He opts for holding your breasts in his palms, holding himself steady and pinning you down firmly to the couch cushions.

It doesn't take long for your eyes to start their descent to the back of your head, until they flutter shut and you're seeing stars behind closed lids. His pace quickens, still hard and determined, and yet you know he has more in him. Part of you itches to whine and beg for him to go farther, to push him to his limits and make him fuck you until you're nearly unconscious and delirious. And truthfully, that's still a high possibility, but you also wouldn't mind staying like this forever.

Then, one of his hands shifts and glides up to your neck again. You open your eyes and find Spencer staring down at your body with hair falling down in front of his face and sweat forming on his brow. His mouth hangs open and then grins when he catches you staring, the sight making you sigh out and grip the bottom hem of his shirt with your fingers for any kind of stability.

You're teetering on the edge of another orgasm, and by the way his face is slightly scrunching you can tell that he's not far behind you.

Just the flash-forward thought of him filling you up sends a jolt through your body, and before you know it, your legs are tensing again, and you're yelling out his name in broken syllables as a flood of warmth spreads through your body. For a split second you wonder if you've both come undone at the same time, but this feeling is different and more intense. Familiar.

The sounds filling the room only confirms your conclusion, and then Spencer's words as he pauses and feels you twitching around him.

"Twice in one night, huh?"

You force yourself to look at him, to see the unhinged pride pooling in his eyes as you finish and wait for him to follow suit. It both empowers and frightens you at the same time, an odd combination of feelings that you're sure to have a crisis about in the morning. But for now, you can't help but lean back and watch the ceiling as Spencer grips your hips and starts fucking you relentlessly into the couch.

Finally, he pauses at the hilt inside you and holds himself there, stuttering out expletives and coming. He pulls back and then forwards a couple times, gently rocking himself through it, and then his grip on your body loosens and you're able to pull him down to you.

You wrap your legs around him to keep him still, unwilling to let go of this feeling quite yet. It's there— that strength that he gives you, whether he knows it's there or not.

And in about an hour after you wash up and go to bed, he will be gone, and that strength will slowly fizzle out overnight, and like clockwork, you'll long to feel it again some time after the concern runs its course— After you replay the night in your head, over and over, analyzing every look and every touch and every reaction. After you frighten yourself into believing that he must be in tune with some level of evil to use you for rough sex and then leave you alone during the day and act like it never happened, even though it's literally what you agreed to.

The back and forth will only make living harder, and so you'll push it all away and focus on work. Until Spencer eventually brushes your arm with the back of his hand as he passes you, or hands you a cup of coffee with a kind smile, and then you'll come right back to wondering how such a gentle soul could hold such intensity. It will unnerve you until you tell yourself that it's just the complexities of the human condition and that every soul contains multitudes. You see it every day. It's not uncommon. It's completely normal.

The thought will calm you enough to get you through the rest of the afternoon, and when you get home, you'll settle in for the night without a second thought. You'll make dinner, watch a show, read a book, endlessly scroll online, or talk to Penelope about whatever show she's watching... You'll keep yourself busy.

And then the sun will set. Your house will grow quiet. You'll start to feel it: the small pit in your gut that only deepens when you hear a knock at the door. You'll meet Spencer Reid with a bright smile, pretending not to know why he could possibly be outside your door past 9pm.

So, yes. For now, you will hold onto him a little longer and bask in the afterglow of this exercise in 'stress relief'. Because even if it doesn't mean anything greater, and whether there's even anything within Spencer's motivations to decode in the first place... This moment in time, each time, is the most relieved you ever feel.

Your fingers flex gently over his shoulders, and through the soft, even exhaling of his breath across your cheek, you know for certain he feels the same.

*******

PERMANENT TAGLIST (tags not working are struck out): 

@starrylang @xoxospencerreid @lovejules888 @awesomebooklover17 @yourmisosoup @gubswh0re @venomsvl @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @umbreonwolfy @hotchandspencearedilfs @spencerreidsmommy @abby2661 @youabitchhhh @reidsbabe @shemarmooresfedora @donald4spiderman @moonlight-2-6 @chaoticcatie @flipperpenguins @muffin-cup @centiaaa @foreveryoungxx3 @happymangospot @matthew-gray-gubler-lover

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!

[moondirti]

Hellloooo🖤 I’m the anon who asked about the Safehouse story!

My brain, unfortunately, is not nearly as wrinkly as yours so I cannot come up with creative ideas like you 😂 BUT! I have a few ideas? Maybe? If you can call them that lol.

Was the spanking the first physical interaction they had? What did the morning after that look like?

What happens if reader has a nasty mental health episode & tries to hide it from Ghost?

Does the pet thing progress? I think we all know that Ghost has a thing for the pet play. I don’t even care, that’s totally canon for me at this point.

Would you ever consider writing about the general dynamic they have? Like the “rules” Ghost might have for them?

Totally and completely a self indulgent ask from someone who just had to pull themselves out of a nasty mental health episode lmao I’m so sorry please ignore this if it’s annoying or dumb!

shh i love all of these. i have so many thoughts now / prev

cw: dubcon d/s lifestyle. petplay. controlling behaviour. possessiveness. panic attacks. toxicity. noncon collaring. financial manipulation. mention of self harm. brief fluff.

Your thing with Simon is hard to contextualise.

Or even understand, really.

Parts of it are welcome. He asserts himself in a way you haven't found in the nobodies you've hooked up with previous, happy to fuck you dumb if it means you'll surrender yourself completely. Which you do. You listen intently and follow every direction he gives in bed, and as a reward he wrings orgasm after orgasm from your squirming body. You cum more in one week than you have in the past month, never not naked and sore, wrists tender from where he anchors his hand to keep them pinned above your head. You hear puppy more than your own name, at this point. And it's a concerning because– Well...

You don't mind it.

But you still don't like him.

It isn't like you necessarily need to like your partners in order to have a good time, but it certainly helps if you can tolerate them beyond a dick-in-hole condition. Simon is an anomaly in that he is the worst person you know, whilst also serving as the best lay you've ever had.

That is to say, his habits haven't changed. He's a fucking terror to live with. Nightmare flatmate, the type you see strangers complain about on reddit forums or hear in a friends story from their sister's husband's cousin. Not something you would take seriously until you live the experience – now existing as a sore, precautionary tale you'll no doubt be pitching to anyone also considering subleasing their place as a safe house.

Perhaps it's made worse by the sexual element you share. Before, he had just been your average perverse man, stealing clothes and walking in on you in the bathroom. Now, it seems that sleeping with him has given him the go-ahead to push that behaviour to an extreme. He'll pat your ass while you go about your business, or tug your hair when you raise your voice. Treats you like a pet that has yet to be debarked; just a silly, sub-human way of entertainment.

You can't help but feel you enabled it. But no–

The pet play is cute when he's drilling your brains out – and perhaps only because you can't think straight enough to raise concern – but you're not a dog. Nor do you want to be treated like one throughout all hours of the day. The onus is on him for not catching the hint.

But of course, accountability isn't in his lexicon.

Things only get worse from there.

"An' where d'you think you're going?"

You're halfway out of the door when he catches you leaving.

If you had been more iron-willed, you would slip out and scurry away before he can continue whatever spiel he has stirring. Instead, it's instinct to shrivel in on yourself, clicking the door shut before turning to face the behemoth waiting in the foyer.

"Out." You huff, intent on cold-stoning him. But it's a fools game when your opponent in the broad-shouldered lieutenant – for he merely cocks his head, waiting your silence out with more silence, and it's all you can do to bite your tongue against the deluge of excuses that pile up. "My mates thought it would be a good idea to catch brunch. Y'know– to celebrate the start of summer break. It's a nice day out so..." You gesture to your attire, like you have any reason to justify a sundress to some man you are in no way committed to.

But you can read the possessive gleam of his eyes as they take stock of your appearance: from your expensive mules, up your moisturised legs, to the low cut of your décolletage. It's easy to connect it to that look he had when you came back home that fateful night, the look of warning before he'd taken you over his lap and slapped your ass raw.

And for some odd reason, you're compelled to dig yourself out of trouble.

"Hm. It is a nice day, innit?" You nod a bit too quick. He stalks closer. "Lots of people out." Your nod is a little less enthusiastic. He's centimetres away now. "Some bad, bad men too."

He lifts the ends of your dress, slowly. Your next words quiver on their way out your chest. It's alarming to find that they don't sound nearly as assertive as you intend for them to be, not like they do horny.

"Where are you going with this?"

Your skirt pools around your hips now, held up by one hand as the other smooths over with the gusset of your panties.

"You plan on lettin' them have at this puppycunt? Have I not been givin' it enough attention?" He mockingly coos, pressing harder against the mound between your legs. Your knees grow weak. Not of your own accord, but weak nonetheless, and you have to hold onto his wrist to keep yourself upright. "Is tha' it?"

"N-No–"

"No? But that's what they'll think seeing you walk around like this, silly thing. Poor, neglected mutt, they'll say. Don't have a firm hand to keep 'er in line." Simon tuts, releasing his grip on your dress to pull something out of his back pocket. With the way he crowds into you, you can't crane your head to see what it is. "Now we can't have tha'. I spoil my girl rotten, wouldn' you say?"

"Yes. Yes but–"

"No buts, pup. Have ta stake my claim on you somehow." Something clicks. All too suddenly, you're made aware of the new weight on your neck. It tightens against the column of your throat – not enough to constrict your airways, but enough so that it hinders the way you move. "There we go. So pretty like this."

Panic seizes you, the steel fist of paralysis capturing your muscles in a vice-like clutch. Even as Simon pulls away, you're almost scared to find yourself in the nearest mirror. Scared of what you'll find dangling between your collarbones. There's no mistaking the textured leather that presses against your skin, nor the soft clink of metal hanging from it. No fooling yourself that this is all some cruel joke, not with the sick leer of satisfaction that warps his face.

Stumbling, you navigate to the bathroom and blindly turn on a light.

That cruel fuck.

"Simon," Your voice is devoid of the anger you feel roaring through your veins, circuiting through the frenzied stutter of your heart to find new passion. Instead, you sound horrified. Near hysterical, choking on your own pleas as you run back to the foyer. Your hands tug at the collar clasped around your neck, desperately searching for a buckle that will aid you in ripping it off, despite seeing the lock latched right at the centre that tells of its permanence. What's more, he had it engraved with a crude variation of a dog collar tag. If lost, leave alone. Or else count your days. "S-Simon, Simon please. Fuck– take it off. Take it off, take it off! I don't want this, I don't want... This isn't funny. I'll change if that's what it takes. Please."

Snot bursts from your nose, cheeks wet with a hot mess of tears. You can't suppress the hiccups that interrupt your begging like pathetic shots to the chest, or the weak hits you beat across his pecs. If you could, then perhaps he would give your tantrum more weight.

As it stands, you're nothing but a feral creature resisting training.

"Shhh. Pets can' speak. Pets don't cry." His thumbs press to your under eyes, tamping the flow of brine that mark steady tracks from your lashes. "You'll ruin your makeup like this."

"Si–"

He stare hardens into something dangerous. Against your better judgment, you clamp your lips shut.

"That's it. You're s'good when you listen to me, pup." Once he's sure you've stopped crying, he removes his thumbs to instead push one into your mouth. You can taste the salty residue of your tears on his fingertips. "Now, this is the bes' of both worlds, see? You can go see your friends with this on. I know pets need their playtime, af'er all."

You arch your back in protest, but all that does is bring you closer to the lieutenant. He misinterprets that entirely, of course, and a small smile breaks his face like you've agreed to his terms. A heavy palm pats your ass.

"S'jus' so you don't forget who you belong to." He chuckles. "An' if your friends like the idea, then I have a few friends for them."

You make it one block before hightailing back home.

Nothing in you wanted to give that bastard the satisfaction, but he made it so that whatever you chose to do – stay home or leave wearing a symbol of his ownership – he'd end up triumphant. Naturally, then, you opted for the lesser of two evils: to leave his vicinity immediately. Besides, you'd promised your girls you'd see them after going AWOL the past fortnight, and you knew you'd get an earful if you decided to reschedule at the last moment.

You thought you would convince them it was a bet. That the collar is just some silly joke you have to bear for the day after a football match didn't go in your favour.

But you make it one block before a tradie on his lunch break catcalls you (you about that freaky ting, beautiful?) and decide to change course completely.

You arrive back at your flat without further incident. Ego stung from the various odd looks you received on your way, but nothing as egregious as being singled out as a freak in the midst of a crowd occurs again.

Still, your hands shake as you push your key into its slot.

Which progress to full body tremors as you turn it in place.

Thankfully, Simon isn't waiting on you on the other side of the door. He sits, manspreading on the couch instead, focus zeroed in on the telly that broadcasts Fulham v Man City. When he doesn't look away, you allow yourself to hope he hadn't heard you come in. But it's a naive pool to place your faith in. Nothing escapes the man, and soon enough, his tone of humoured indifference shatters the silence you've been precariously trying to keep.

"Miss me 'lready?"

A wretched sulk, pit of anger hollowing out anew. You swiftly snatch your laptop from the breakfast bar before storming to your room, making sure to lock the door firmly behind you.

The website is bookmarked. Taunting. Sublet your home as a safehouse for our armed forces. Serve your country and help soldiers find refuge. You would laugh if you weren't so single-minded, typing in your email and password upon being prompted to. You don't have to deal with this shit any longer, nor do you intend to. If you remember correctly, there had been a way to report any problems you face. If you phrase yours right, you might just get Simon pulled from your services.

Good dick be damned.

But when you hit enter to sign in, an error message blinks in red.

Account does not exist.

Which is fine. Shit like this happens all the time. There's no reason to work yourself into a panic, you probably just used the wrong email.

So you try your alternate. Account does not exist.

It feels unlikely, but maybe you'd created it under your school email to give yourself credibility. Only–

Account does not exist.

Your blood pressure is no doubt sky high by now. Other symptoms of stress already start to wrack through you – blurry vision, chest aches, difficulty breathing. Your hands sweat excessively as you dig for the customer care number you're sure exists somewhere, efforts impaired by the ever-present weight of the collar around your neck. You wonder if Simon can smell your anxiety like a predator does its prey. If he's in the other room, salivating, waiting for you to wobble out of your room to go for the kill. Some part of you – a needlessly paranoid part – rests on the conclusion that this is somehow his fault too.

Your phone already rings in an outgoing call once you blink back to the present. While you've been functioning on autopilot, you must have found a number to call that related close enough to your issue.

And your suspicion is confirmed when an automated voice picks up. You are currently... second... in line.

It takes five minutes. When a placating woman speaks up amidst the nauseating music they have queued, you can hardly contain yourself from word-vomiting onto her. Safehouse signup. Lost account. Need to report an issue. Please. It's urgent.

"Okay ma'am. If you could give me your name, I'll be happy to find the source of your problem today." You can't spell it out any faster. "Alright. One moment, please."

"O-okay." You sniffle miserably.

"I see. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that you've been pulled from the program after a complaint was lodged against you. Unfortunately I can't provide more detail than that, but if you need anything else, I would be happy to assi–"

You hang up. The poor thing doesn't need to hear the incensed scream that tears from the deepest parts of you, or the following crack as you chuck your cell at the wall. She'd done what she could. It isn't her fault. It was that self-serving bastard that had you blacklisted from the only thing keeping you financially afloat. It is that that self-serving bastard that continues to occupy space inside your home, despite having no real right to it now.

The tantrum isn't near cathartic enough to unfetter you from your prison of aggravation, and you continue to take it out on everything in your near radius. Your duvet and pillows. The lotion you keep by your beside table. Your own skin, nails piercing into the soft flesh of your palms.

And especially the collar constricting your throat, like vines that tighten at the first sign of struggle.

You have to get this collar off. Even if you fail at everything else, you have to get this collar off.

Scrambling off your bed, you turn your room upside down looking for a bobby pin or a knife. One is unquestionably the safer bet, but you know you'll sit for hours trying to pick the lock that keeps you shackled – so when you find the boxcutter sitting at the bottom of your junk drawer, you immediately take it to your neck.

Just as Simon barges into your room.

You're so far gone, you don't even question how this must look to him. In fact, it doesn't occur to you that you locked your door, and that the only way he could've gotten in is by having a replica of your key. No. You merely twist away from the all-encompassing hold he wraps around your arms, determined to keep the boxcutter away from his confiscation until you can slice through the leather.

But you're crying. Visibly, alarmingly unstable. And Simon's breaths are a little faster than normal, faltering in a way they only do when he's close to climax. He must be worried, which is a funny thought, seeing as he's the reason you're in this mess.

"Alright thas– that's enough of that." He grunts after managing to pry the blade from your hand. You hardly mourn the loss, rather crumbling in on yourself as your sobbing escalates. No longer frustrated, nor determined. Just primed into a suffocating panic attack.

Somewhere in your auditory periphery, you hear the clinking of glass. It doesn't register until he holds a vial of lavender extract you keep under your nose, forcing you to inhale the medicinal aroma. Soon enough, your mouth opens to swallow gulps of unscented air alongside it, and the imposed breathing exercise calms you to a point of blubbering calm.

(For someone so apathetic, you admit he handled that expertly.)

That isn't the end of it, though. Moments later, you're lifted off your feet. He cradles you in both arms as he makes his way to your bed, sitting up against the headboard and placing you on his lap. Safe. Undisturbed.

You say nothing, pressing your wet face into his shirt. For comfort, first and foremost, but the makeup that'll undoubtedly stain the white fabric is an added bonus.

"Know this is hard for y'to understand, pup." Simon begins. "Hard for you ta wrap your head around ownership after bein' alone for s'long. I won't punish you for tha'."

"Y-You don't own me." You accuse.

He shakes his head in response, like your mind is truly as little as he claims. Like you're a dog, complete with two ears and a tail, and he plucked you off the street on the condition that you heel.

If anything, he's the stray.

"Oh, but I do." A large hand rubs circles on your back. Never have you been so conflicted, so torn between leaning in and biting back. "Just don't see it yet, pet. Bu' you will, in time. And in the meanwhile, we'll establish some ground rules to help you adjust."

[chilling-seavey]

I apologize for this but it has been my brain-rot. You know those scenes in movies where the wife is in bed and reading a book while wearing silk pajamas and their husband comes in the bedroom, freshly showered with the wet water dripping down their hair and only wearing sweatpants, which really turns on the wife. I get that vibes in The Way It Goes, especially after your son is put to bed for the night

↳ A/N No apology needed whatsoever, anon!! I am always so willing to hear your brain rot and the fun creative things it may inspire...like this!! Also, thank you to @sadiethekoala for helping me pick this idea as my next blurb to write out of my few I have planned :)

↳ Pairings: Husband!George Russell x Fem!Wife!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 1.5k

↳ Warnings: Unedited. George gets silently stared at with slightly lustful undertones? Brief mentions of post-partum body changes. 

You once remembered a time where sunset in Monaco meant the night was only just beginning. Back in those days where your responsibilities finished with the end of a work day, life felt free and limitless. When George would be home for days between race weekends and you’d spend hours out on the harbour until your only company was the stars or the odd night out at some of the higher end clubs that made up the roaring nightlife of the Principality. 

Now, barely two years later, and life looked a lot different. It was different in a sense where you felt yourself growing up and maturing; taking on responsibilities that stretched far past the confines of a 9-5. You were starting to find the beauty in that, the appreciation for those quiet nights-in and the comfort that stability and routine provided. You found yourself blossoming in motherhood more than you had ever anticipated. 

It was hard to believe it had been just over a year since your son was born; that sweet blue eyed boy sleeping so soundly in the adjacent room. You could hear his faint breaths through the baby monitor on your bedside table, the red power light blinking slowly at you under the warm illumination of your table lamp. It was a reassuring rhythm that kept a fond smile ghosting over your face even as you were focused on the novel in your hands. The most beautiful boy with the most beautiful breaths. Ridiculous to those who had never experienced parenthood, but entirely true. 

Your page fluttered as you turned to the next one, careful eyes skimming the words in the calmness of your quaint apartment. Flattened moving boxes were resting against the white paneled wall by the closed door of your bedroom, a few more scattered throughout the place in various rooms, still yet to be assembled and packed. With your little boy growing up and you and George already in agreement that more little ones would be following him in the future, it was only a matter of time before you moved onto bigger and better things. 

But, for now, Monaco was still home and that little apartment you and George picked out together back when you were engaged was still your own corner of the world. 

The sound of the shower turning off from the ensuite piqued your attention but not enough to tear your eyes away from your book in hand. The comfort of your freshly washed sheets you were snuggled under and the plethora of down-filled pillows you were propped up against kept you perfectly content where you were. You turned another page. Your son slept soundly. 

Soon, the bathroom door opened and out poured a cloud of warm damp air and, with it, your husband. George traipsed out, barefoot, donning only a pair of sweatpants that hung low and haphazard on his hips. He ruffled his towel through his damp hair, bare torso still flushed from the heat of his shower, a few missed droplets of water left unnoticed and glistening across his collarbones.

You looked up from your book, shamelessly letting your eyes wander his entrancing figure and following that fair strip of hair from his navel into the waistband of his sweats. George - either ignorant to your staring or so familiar with it that he didn’t bat an eye - made his way over to the closet and pulled open the doors to rifle through the drawers. 

When he found what he was looking for, he shut the closet and turned back to you, holding up a pair of briefs, announcing with an amused tone, “Forgot something important.”

You snickered softly with a shake of your head, looking back down to your book, “They’re not that important.”

George moved around the bed again and knelt on his empty side to lean over towards you, his damp towel in one hand and his underwear in the other. You glanced up when he got into your vicinity and you effortlessly accepted his sweet kiss. 

“How was your shower?” you asked with a calm smile as he pushed himself off the bed and headed back into the ensuite. 

“Wet.” he answered cheekily from around the corner. 

“Lonely?” you teased, a playful lilt in your voice.

He reappeared in the doorway, a sly smile tugging at his lips, now with the band of his underwear peeking out just above the waistband of his sweats. He was casually applying moisturizer to his face, his eyes glinting with amusement as he replied, “Incredibly.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” you crooned. 

“Yeah, well,” George chuckled as he shrugged and disappeared back into the ensuite.

You looked back at your book although your mind was straying so you couldn’t quite process any of the words you were trying to read. 

You glanced back in the direction of the ensuite and called out to him, “Did you manage to get that workout you wanted to do done today?”

George appeared in the doorway again, toothbrush in his mouth. His nose scrunched a little, eyebrows furrowed, and he lifted a hand to tilt it back and forth to mime a response indicating ‘sort of’. 

“Why sort of? Aleix wasn’t free?”

He shook his head but then shrugged as if to say ‘oh well’. 

“Tomorrow?”

He gave you a thumbs up. 

“Confirmed?”

A nod. 

“Your usual time?”

He shook his head and balanced his toothbrush in his mouth to show off ten fingers before returning to his teeth brushing. 

“Okay, ten is fine.” you looked back to your book. 

George disappeared back into the ensuite. You heard the faucet turn on. 

He soon returned, flicking off the bathroom light before climbing onto the bed with you, “I meant to check with you before I confirmed with him, sorry.”

“All good.” you held up your arm to welcome him closer. “You can do your workout whenever you please.”

He draped himself across the bed on top of the duvet, resting his arm over your lap and propping his chin in his hand as he gazed up at you. You paused, your book still clutched in one hand, but a single glance at his face had you setting it aside, bookmarking the pages to give him your full attention.

His hair was still damp from the shower, and as you ran your fingers through it, you felt the faint stickiness of his styling lotion. Your touch had him sighing contentedly, his long lashes fluttering for a moment. With a playful gesture, George extended his finger to lightly brush across the front of your silk pyjama shirt, gently hooking his pinky around one of the buttons. 

He offered a soft mumble, “This is nice. Is this new?”

“It’s only from Christmas. I just haven’t gotten around to wearing it yet.”

George hummed in acknowledgement, his fingers slipping under the fabric to rest innocently against the warmth of your stomach. You were still carrying a bit of that extra skin around your middle that your pregnancy left behind, but George was always a fan of the physical memories of the strength and miracle of your body. His thumb brushed over it and he let out another small sigh.

You shifted in place to get a bit cozier under the blankets and George took your lead to join you, settling into his side of the bed. The room was bathed in only the light of your single bedside lamp, the curtains long since closed to block out the speckles of light from the Monte Carlo nightlife surrounding your corner of solitude. Together, you adjusted your pillows and tossed the extra ones to the floor before naturally finding your way into each other’s arms. 

“Can’t believe what a year it’s been and it’s only the end of March.” you thought aloud as you settled at his side. 

“Mm.” George agreed faintly, snaking an arm around your waist and needily pulling you closer under the sheets. 

You continued, “Our baby turned one…you’re a close second in the Driver’s Championship…”

He tutted and replied modestly, “It’s only two months into the season.”

“Plenty of time to surpass Lando.”

George only chuckled and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. 

Romance not lost after a few years of marriage and a kid, you straightforwardly asked, “Wanna make out until we fall asleep?”

George smiled against your cheek, “Absolutely.”

The duvet rustled around you both as you shifted into a more comfortable position, laying facing each other, arms lazily draped around bodies and under necks, tangled in sheets and each other. 

You once remembered a time where your nights together were full of passion; uncomfortable and lust-stemmed sex in club bathrooms or on the sand of the harbour beach after dark. Risky and carefree and limitless. Now, a little bit older but even more in love than you had been back then, all you really needed to satisfy your nights was the embrace of each other and lazy kisses in the security of your shared home.

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[ask-games-from-a-weird-girl]

Emoji asks!

Let people send you an emoji to express how they feel about you!

📕 your blog should be a book it’s so fun

🛰️ we live so far apart and yet I feel so close to you

🧠 I wanna study your brain

🫁 You make me laugh so much I have almost lost my breath

🎽 I got your back when you feel down

🌈 Everything about you slays

📺 I wanna come over and watch your shows with you

🛫 I’m willing to travel to you just to see your face

🪼 You’re a silly little person and I appreciate you on my dash

🥤 I’d like to have a deep talk at a fast food place with you

🌝 I rarely interact with your posts, but I am here lurking and seeing it all. And I approve.

🪩 You’re funky and funny

🕶️ You’re so cool seriously I’m so starstruck

🌪️ You’re a tornado of chaos and I love it

🧥 You make me so intrigued in whatever you’re talking about, even if I have no context for it

🎨 You are so creative

🎭 I wish I had your imagination

[palmettoshenanigans]

also ALSO-

I know the old "AFTG is badly written" jokes but hold the FUCK on for one goddamn second

I have been writing for almost 20 years. I got my college degree in English and the only reason my specialization wasn't creative writing is because I had bad time management skills and missed my chance to do my final creative writing workshop. I'm autistic and Storycrafting and Wordsmithing are my special interests. I understand writing pretty well.

AFTG opened my fucking eyes to a blind spot of the utter craftsmanship of writing sticky characters that infect you with brain worms, and here it is:

The Conflict of Material and Form

AKA the Character Creation version of Nature versus Nurture

"This isn't who I truly am. This is who I've had to become, what I've had to fashion myself into to survive. The original me is buried in there somewhere, if only you knew how to look. If only you knew to look beyond the mask."

Easily exemplified with our fave lil guys-

Neil Abram Josten:

Material: smartass with a smart mouth, attitude problem, cares about people deeply, sharp tongue to cut a bitch with, kinda feral, a lil unhinged, oblivious idiot

Form: quiet and hidden, liar liar pants of fire, run rabbit run, docile and tame, hyper-vigilant and hyper-observant

Andrew Joseph Minyard:

Material: caring, protective, strong sense of justice, gentle even, cares deeply, give me sugar or give me death, yearning

Form: cold, apathetic, ruthless and unforgiving, allow me to introduce you to my knife, regret? don't know her, i want nothing nothing nothing

Why am I using 'material and form' instead of 'nature and nurture'? Because I am a subscriber to "Characters are not meant to be real people; they are mirages of real people meant to encapsulate a function or idea that serves the story". But use whatever terms click with your noggin.

This isn't about 'want vs need'. This isn't about 'lie believed and truth learned'. This is about Presentation and Basic Action - how would this character react here? Which part are they reacting from?

With Material vs. Form, one isn't the 'true' version and the other the 'false' version of the character. They are both true and real in their own right. The Secret Sauce is that the Material and the Form fight 1v1! And regardless of which part wins, there will be consequences and rewards; so which rewards do we want and which consequences are we willing to suffer? And this fight happens beat by beat, scene by scene, plot point by plot point.

At one point in TFC Neil laments his inability to shut his fucking mouth because his Form of 'don't stand out dipshit' and his Material of 'initiate smartass.exe' are disagreeing with how to respond to his circumstances! It's that fucking meme "My healed and unhealed versions of myself deciding who is going to handle this situation" but as Storycraft!

Now, I don't think this is a new idea by any means. But sometimes to make the essence of an idea truly stick, it must be presented in multiple different ways until one triggers a "Eureka! By Jove! Aha!", and this was the way that truly made this concept stick for me. And why did it stick? Because AFTG is a labor of deep love and passion for Characters and all their complexity and inner machinations, and that depth of devotion had to manifest as some good ass writing somehow my homies in christ.

I have a collection of my favorite Storycrafting Wisdoms and one of them is effectively:

"Put Compelling Characters into a Compelling Situation and see what happens."

And Nora does Compelling Characters beautifully

[earlysunshines]

parenting trial

son chaeyoung x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: in which your date is interrupted when you hear someone’s child crying their eyes out

warnings: ummm none(?) ; not proofread

a/n: im actually supposed to be studying for my last final but uh oops... and happy pride!

chaeyoung’s head is in your lap, your fingers run through your hair as you two people watch, making up a background for each person that passes by.

an elderly woman walks a small poodle, humming a small tune as she does so. chaeyoung points to her and smiles.

“she’s definitely an undercover spy.” she says, making you laugh.

“was spy kids just permanently engraved in your brain after you watched it or...?”

chaeyoung turns her head and looks at you, offended. she pushes your face from where she is and you giggle at her expression. you scratch her scalp, then she rolls her eyes before explaining.

“it's the glasses, the way she holds herself, the poodle! who owns poodles? they’re definitely a breed planted by the government.”

you almost snort after hearing her little tangent.

“you’re so…” you move your hand down to squish her cheek for no reason. “creative.”

“thank you, i’m very proud of that trait.”

“why am i in love with you?" you mumble, looking at her squished cheek in between your fingers and her closed eyes. you smile at the answer in front of your eyes. “you’re so stupid.”

“you’re equally as dumb.”

“yeah okay whatev-“

your bickering is cutoff when you hear a loud wail, it catches pretty much everyone’s attention.

there’s a kid on the bench across the concrete path rubbing her eyes and sniffling. she looks to be around five years old, her bangs are quite wispy and her hair is cut just above her shoulders. she wipes her runny nose with the pink shirt she has on and starts to cry again — louder than ever — before quieting down in ten seconds.

chaeyoung looks at you — head still in your lap — and you look right back at her. the soothing movement of your hand in her scalp stops when she gets up to look at the kid as well.

“stay here love, i’m going to go check on the girl.” you say cupping chaeyoung’s face lightly before getting up from the blanket you had been on and putting on your clogs.

chaeyoung watches you walk towards the kid and exchange a few words, which quickly has the girl quiet as she directs her attention on you. in a minute, you walk back towards the blanket with your pointer finger in the girls grip. your girlfriends eyes soften at the sight.

you sit down on the blanket and urge the hesitant child to sit down next to you. the girl shakes her head, then looks at chaeyoung skeptically. your eyes widen at the realization and you smile softly, holding her hand in yours.

“this is chaeyoung, she’s my um…” you begin, pausing to lean over and ask your lover: “do kids know about girlfriends? i mean probably — definitely. but is it like, appropriate?”

chaeyoung giggles and nods, “i think so.”

you face towards the girl again and say, “this is my girlfriend chaeyoung. she’s really nice and sweet, come sit, she’s a great person. trust me.”

the girl looks at the two of you hesitantly then sits directly in front of you and your lover. she sniffles again, unable to look up.

“what’s your name?” chaeyoung asks, voice soft and sweet. “my name is chaeyoung.” she introduces, sticking out her hand for the girl to shake.

the girl simply looks at the hand that has tattoos scattered all over, observing them for a bit. she doesn’t answer; she’s too mesmerized by the little doodles.

“oh, these?” chaeyoung asks, pointing at the tattoos that have the girls attention. “i drew them myself.”

“really?” her eyes widen, she's amazed. this is the first time you and chaeyoung have heard her speak. her voice is small and hesitant, though it seems she’s willing to lend her trust to two adults that decided to care for her.

chaeyoung nods. “you see this one? i drew it two years ago. do you like it?”

the girl examines the flowers on her fingers, a small smile spreads across her lips.

“i like those.” the girl mumbles, reaching for chaeyoung’s fingers to get a better look.

“me too.” you agree, looking at chaeyoung lovingly.

“can you draw one on me?” the little girl asks, looking at your girlfriend with curious, hopeful eyes.

chaeyoung turns to look at you, making eye contact and tilting her head to silently ask for you to help her out. to be fair, this is someone's child and you can't just start vandalizing someone's lost child. the two of you have a silent interaction with raised brows, mixed expressions, and mouthed words before the child tugs at chaeyoungs hand again.

"please miss chaeyoung?" the little girl asks, pouting.

chaeyoung looks at you again, portruding her lower lip to mimic the girl. your girlfriend is already convinced, it's just you that has to give her the green light before she goes ham on this kids arm with her pens.

"um, hold on." you interject, "we don't know if your parents would be fine with that."

the girl frowns again after being reminded that her parents are nowhere to be found, then starts to tear up again. you panic and so does your girlfriend after she begins to get vocal again, a tear now falling down her cheek.

"okay okay! wait, wait." you quickly say, trying to prevent others in the park from looking at you, your girlfriend, and someone's lost child. "how about you tell us your name first before chaeyoung draws anything, yeah?"

"tara. tara hong laurent." she immediately says, then turns to chaeyoung, urging her to start doodling.

so you have her whole name, which was easy enough to get although quite concerning because she had just given out her government name to strangers. chaeyoung picks up her pen and starts to draw something small on her pinky, then mouths "ask... more..."

"um, okay tara." you start, looking at her skeptically. "when was the last time you saw your parents?"

she frowns again, looking up at you. "i miss them."

"i know," you say softly, pushing her hair to the side. chaeyoung watches the whole interaction, the small gesture, and the small smile you give her; chaeyoung melts. "that's why we're going to help you find them. do you know their names?"

"james and jihyuk." she answers, watching chaeyoung as she scrunches her brow and doodle a small flower on the back of her hand. "do you know them?"

"oh, i don't know a james or jihyuk, but we'll find them tara, don't worry."

she grins. "miss chaeyoung, you're very good at this."

"thank you." chaeyoung turns to look at you, there's a sparkle in her eyes. "do you want to draw on y/n?"

"chaeng i-"

tara interrupts you, beaming at the opportunity. "yes! yes! please? can I?"

chaeyoung smirks at you and giggles mischieviously before handing the pen to the girl, then grabbing your forearm and pushing it toward the little girl. "the floor is yours tara, but can you answer a few more questions?"

she nods aggressively, making both you and your girlfriend laugh.

chaeyoung continues, "so, where were your parents the last time you saw them? how did you lose them?"

your girlfriend hands the girl the pen, she grabs it eagerly. tara starts to scribble something just below your already existing tattoo, something not so far off from a bunny. it's a messy scribble, clearly done by a child, but it's adorable.

"we were by the water and then my dads both went to get something from the store with me... then I saw a rabbit in the store! it was as big as my head! and it started running around the store and I followed it and it went outside and I followed it again and it kept running away from me!" she explains with frustration. "and then I looked around and I couldn't find my dads... and I went to the benches over there before miss y/n found me."

she adds small whiskers on the bunny she's drawing on your forearm, the drawing is the size of her hand, taking up a lot of space -- but it's adorable.

she seems unbothered by the fact that she's basically missing now, too busy admiring her work and smiling up at you. "do you like it miss y/n?"

your lips turn up, your cheeks flush from how happy she looks, then you nod. "I love it tara."

"yay! is it as good as miss chaeyoung's?"

pretending to think to yourself, you put a finger on your chin and look up at the sky. a little dramatically, you hum, then look back at the bunny inked on your forearm.

leaning closer and lowering your voice -- but not too quietly so chaeyoung can hear -- you respond, "I think it's better than hers."

tara smiles with her teeth, then leaps into your arms and gives you a big hug. she's so small, at least compared to you, clinging onto you like a koala. she pulls away to smile even bigger. "thank you thank you! i think I want to be an artist someday."

you look down at her and chuckle before placing a hand on her head and fixing the strands poking out. "do what you love, okay? i think you'd make a great artist."

chaeyoung watches the whole interaction, her head in her palm and cheeks warming from how adorable you are with her. chaeyoung sigh adoringly just from the sight, falling a little more for you -- especially after you look up, make eye contact, and smile warmly at her. she feels like a popsicle on a burning day.

"tara, we should find your parents. they shouldn't be too far from here, I hope."

"do you want my dad's number? the one with the mustache."

you and chaeyoung look at each other again, mouths widening and faces looking dumbfounded; tara's known her dad's phone number this whole time. the two of you laugh like idiots.

you reach for your phone and hand it to tara. "could you type their number in? I'll call them and we'll get you back to them soon."

"on it!" tara responds with a fist in the air, punching up excitedly.

chaeyoung watches her sit down next to you, and how you tilt your head a little strangely to match her level and meet the screen of your phone. tara's little fingers tap at the screen, then she shoves the phone up and hits your nose, eliciting a small squeak from you.

you rub your and nose and chaeyoung puts a hand to her mouth to stifle the laugh that's threatening to come out -- loud and so strong it'll have her falling down on the blanket -- she barely manages to do so.

rolling your eyes at her, you bring the phone up to your ear and wait for an answer. ten seconds pass before you hear a low "hello?" from the other end of the line.

"hi, is this james? or-- no, maybe jihyuk?"

"how did you get my number?" the man asks, his voice Is so low that it catches you off guard, but he's soft-spoken. "who are you?"

"hi, i'm not sure which dad this is but we found your daughter on a bench crying. she gave us your number and -- my girlfriend and I -- we've just been watching over her. we didn't know she knew her parents' numbers."

the man man lets out a sigh, it sounds like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. "oh dear, y/n right? you're a life saver, thank you. where are you located? near the riverside I assume?"

"yeah, that's right. would you like us to meet you there soon? by the convenience store? it's not too far from us."

"yes, that's perfect. thank you so much, my husband and I have been panicking like crazy. see you soon."

"of course." you respond before hanging up. chaeyoung tilts her head, silently asking for a brief explanation. you look at tara, then hold her hand comfortingly. "we're going to go find your dads okay?"

tara nods before standing up, you and chaeyoung get up with her. the three of you all work together to fold the thin blanket that was previously under you, then shove it in the tote bag you had brought.

as you hang the tote bag on your shoulder, you feel your pointer finger being tugged at and look over to see tara. she's also holding chaeyoung's hand-- well, her pointer, middle, and ring finger. chaeyoung looks at you and smiles, mouthing a "she's adorable" in your direction. you nod in agreement and mouth back, "not as adorable as you" before winking teasingly, making chaeyoung roll her eyes and look away to conceal the faint dust of pink on her cheek.

the three of you make your way to the little riverside convenience store, tara in between you and your lovely girlfriend. you and your lover share eye contact again, both of you falling deeper in love without knowing it.

tara starts to drag you over to the railings near the riverside, but you and chaeyoung resist (somehow terribly, she's dragging the two of you with enough force for two grown adults to struggle holding her back), instead redirecting her to where her parents should be.

you catch the convenience store in the distance, then look down at tara. "almost there, you alright?"

"mhm!"

chaeyoung smiles at this side of you, she's never seen you so caring. you've always been an idiot or overly teasing with your friends -- she loves that, it's why she fell for you -- never this protective and caring.

you were always caring with your friends, attentive to their well-being. you were even more caring with chaeyoung, in a subtle way she always noticed. usually quiet in how you helped others, seeing you so sweet with this little girl shows how genuine and lovely you are. chaeyoung realizes that if you had kids someday, she’d love to be around a protective, caring you—just like you are right now.

the revelation is exciting, chaeyoung finds another way to love you even harder.

you spot two men outside the store. one stands out more—a big, buff, tall man. next to him is a shorter, lankier man with his hand on the other's shoulder, seemingly calming the bigger man with his touch -- just like how you comfort chaeyoung.

tara jumps, then lets go of both you and chaeyoung, running up to the two men and yelling "papa!"

the bigger man catches her in a hug, holding her close and his huge arms practically engulf her. his eyes widen and soften at the same time, then he kisses tara's temple and sighs in relief.

"tara! oh darling, i've been worried sick, your dad and I have both been." the voice is the same one you had heard on the phone earlier, the octave of his voice matches his appearance but the softness and care he shows reminds you of a huge teddy bear.

the smaller man looks at you and chaeyoung, offering a sincere, thankful smile. "thank you for taking care of our daughter, we've been quite worried."

he has a thick french accent, and just his appearance, mannerisms, and the way his words flow out make him seem a bit intimidating. she puts his hand out for you and introduces himself, "jihyuk."

you shake his hand before responding, "y/n."

chaeyoung also does the same, introducing herself and giving him a grin, "chaeyoung."

"thank you for taking care of her, seriously, we owe you the world." the other says, from what you can remember, he should be james since jihyuk has already been introduced.

chaeyoung waves her hand, then holds yours, squeezing tightly as she says, "my girlfriend noticed your daughter crying on a bench, she wanted to help. we were worried."

you nod and send her a quick smile. "ah! also, sorry about the scribbles on her..." you panic a bit, unsure of whether they'd approve of the artwork on her. "we tried to warm up to her and ask her questions, but she wouldn't budge until my girlfriend had drawn something on her." you explain, then you frantically start to ramble, "I'm so sorry about that, my girlfriend's tattoos caught her eye and she--"

jihyuk places his hand on yours before fixing the glasses he wears to sit on his nose bridge. his voice is higher, but he speaks with certainty and some slight authority in his tone, voice levelled, "it's alright dear, we're just glad that our daughter is well."

"right, yeah."

chaeyoung laughs at you and holds your hand a little tighter.

tara starts to squirm in her other dads grip, which urges james to set her down. she runs over to chaeyoung, hugging a leg and muttering, "thank you miss chaeyoung for the drawings, can you do it again sometime?"

your girlfriend looks at you, you look over at james, james looks at his husband jihyuk. jihyuk laughs and nods approvingly.

chaeyoung bends down to meet her level, then fixes the wispy bangs. "of course, anytime."

"yay!" tara beams, then hugs chaeyoung tightly. you watch the whole interaction, feeling your heart overload with adoration, threatening to burst out of your chest.

then tara runs over to you, almost making you lose balance when she collapses into your leg and holds on. you do the same as chaeyoung had done: meet her level and smile at her. "hi tara."

"thank you for helping me y/n, you're very beautiful and kind." your lips twitch a bit; she's seriously adorable. you hold her hand in yours and manage to mutter a low, "thank you."

tara hugs you one more time, it's warm and lovely and wow you never really thought about having kids--but now it's all you can think of as the small, energetic child hugs you with adoration and care.

she runs back to jihyuk and he holds her small hand in his.

james walks up to you, tilting his head down to match your level. this guy has to be at least 6'4 or something. despite his build, he's sweet just from how he smiles at you and the little glint in his eyes.

"i hope you don't mind, i'm going to save your number and," he looks over at his daughter and lover. "I hope we can repay you with coffee or lunch sometime in the future." then, he looks over to chaeyoung, his head tilting down even more. "tara seems to love the art on her skin, and we'd love for her to smile like this again. and you two are such a lovely, kind couple. thank you for this, you saved me from a heart attack."

chaeyoung nods and assures, "it's no problem, we're glad you're all back together."

jihyuk stands next to his husband and links arms subtly before looking up at him, then back to the two of you. "thank you chaeyoung and y/n. we hate to cut this short, but we have to get to dinner on time with my parents. thank you again."

"it's no problem, you all enjoy the dinner alright?" you respond, jihyuk's diastema between his two front teeth is shown when he flashes a smile.

tara waves to you and you watch the small family leave.

chaeyoung kisses your cheek suddenly--you turn in surprise.

"what was that for?"

"you are so adorable, i hate you."

you can't help but chuckle before pecking her lips.

"you love me."

she rolls her eyes before dragging you away from the convenience store and towards the little viewing area nearby.

the breeze hits you two perfectly as you both lean against the railing, chaeyoung leans her head against your shoulder and kisses it through the cloth of your shirt. you turn to press a kiss on her forehead, watching boats make their way to their destination, birds travelling, and the waves flow calmly.

your girlfriend holds your hand and kisses the back of it. "do you want kids?"

"i'm," you pause, chaeyoung watches your lips part as you think of a response. "I'm not against it, but not now I think. if and whenever it happens, I think you'd be the greatest mom ever."

"no," she looks at your features with admiration. "you'd be better." she moves over to kiss your lips and pulls away just barely, lips brushing against yours. "I've never really thought about it much, kids and all." she kisses you once more, then pulls away fully in order to gaze at all of your features. chaeyoung blows some of your hair out of the way, making you laugh.

"me neither."

"but," she begins again, "if it's with you, I know i'd be set just waking up to see you being the mother of our kid. i really like this side of you."

"thanks." you mumble, savoring the moment of intimacy and tenderness. "i'd love to see what kinds of new art would pop up on our child's skin everytime I come back from work."

her face makes its way to the crook of your neck as she giggles. she holds you close.

"there's a lot to look forward to."

"as long as you're in my future I'm fine with anything chaeng."

[g3l3mb]

how to generate creative ideas:

(i need to get this out of my brain)

Make moodboards, playlists, keep a list of people who inspire you. Before starting a project think about the general vibe you want it to embody. Ask questions like “What would this concept sound like if it was a song?” ,“What would this concept be like if it was a person?”. Create a shirt that looks like a building you like, literally anything can be combined.

Take unrelated things or concepts and mix them together. Let’s take Addams Family as an example. “What if it was a story about a typical suburban family…but GOTH!”. It basically flips everything upside down. Or “What outfit would someone wear, who’s personality is the mix of the vibes of these two songs?” Random word generators are amazing for this if you don’t know where to start from.

Try making something truly BAD and then add a twist to it. It’s a great way for your brain to let go of expectations and then think outside of the box. But you can also use this to find out what you do not wanna do under any circumstances.

Think without worrying about the limits of what you can do and when it’s time for excecution, find a way around what’s impossible. It births more creativity and adds uniqueness.

Consider what your idea is NOT before considering what it is. Limits are the best way to avoid getting overwhelmed and giving up. Don’t ALWAYS do this though (unless you wanna…), it’s just something to try out when you feel like you’re seeing too many possibilities to the point that they’re contradicting each other. Unless your goal is to make something full of contradictions, you’re a Free Man, do whatever you want.

Keep a list of random ideas you have throughout the day in your notes app or something and then at some point actually review them. Keep what you think is worth exploring and then act on it.

Find out how something works very throughoutly so you know which aspect can be changed to create something new.

Take a concept and break it down into smaller concepts, ideas, questions, key elements and then also break those ideas down etc. This will naturally lead to associations, unique ideas you wouldn’t think of without doing this. I found that this is a great way of coming up with metaphors.

This one is similar to the last two: take a piece of art you really love and try to find out the thought process behind. What’s the story, where did the artist get inspiration from, how did they incorporate those ideas in their work. How did an artist combine their personal interests and knowledge into one big thing. For example: Tolkien was an erudite linguist, so much so that he created entire functional languages in his work, such as Elvish in Lord of the Rings. Hirohiko Araki loves 80’s music so much he named characters in Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure after music references. This is why no knowledge is useless knowledge.

Think about the times you’ve been the most creative before. What were the specific circumstances? For me my best ideas always come when I have a strict deadline for something unrelated, like school (which I’m way too willing to sacrifice), or when I’m doing something mindless like walking and listening to music, or playing a game that requires no thinking. Most of the time after 10p.m. This doesn’t mean I can’t “force” myself to be creative (tips above), it just means these are the times ideas come most naturally. For some people this might be being out in nature or experiencing high emotions, maybe having their life on the line idk, to each their own.

You can’t just create. You also need to consume. The more information you absorb, the more possibilities you have with your ideas. So if you’re not feeling that creative, that’s fine, it’s the perfect opportunity to learn something new.

If you don’t already do these things and you’re looking to get more creative my advice is to ACTUALLY TRY THESE OUT. You’ll best understand them in action.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Top 10 Things I Love About the QL Tumblr Community 2023

I'm loving everyone's end of year lists, and decided to make up one of my own.

I haven't been on Tumblr for very long and was originally just lurking. 2023 marks the year where I finally started posting, after I read a take that made me feel compelled to come to a fictional character's defense. (Saengtai, my poor little blorbo).

So in commemoration of my first proper year of active tumblring, I present what I love about this community (in no particular order).

(Side note - Technically I know this is still primarily a BL community, but I like to say QL because I am trying to manifest more lesbians for us.)

1) The Gifmakers

Y'all are a good 70% of the reason I joined Tumblr in the first place. There are so many show moments that I want to relive, but without having to search through videos. Sometimes I want to appreciate the aesthetics. Sometimes I want to remember adorable or goofy moments. Sometimes I just want to see cute boys eating each other's faces. Our gifmakers give all of that to us, with the addition of so much creativity and style.

There's too many amazing ones to mention everyone, but I have to shout out @sparklyeyedhimbo, because the way your brain works makes me so happy.

2) The expertise

The other part of why I joined Tumblr was to learn more about what BLs were out there and what I might be missing. And holy hell. Y'all are putting in the work. Not only lists and resources for finding all kinds of QLs, like these fabulous monthly breakdowns by @gunsatthaphan, but also amazing posts that add additional context, like @absolutebl's incredibly helpful breakdown of Asian honorifics. There is so much research people do, for fun! And then they share it!

3) The meta analysis

I frickin love reading people's takes and analyses on series. I love learning, I love seeing perspectives from people with different cultural backgrounds to my own, it's all so fascinating! There's so much context we can miss due to our own privileges, or lack of knowing about various cultures, or due to whatever bubbles we've been living in. People here are just so smart, and nuanced, and willing to reflect and think about things, and also push back at each other, but generally with respect (except when you call out the dumb shit you see, usually on Twitter or TikTok, where people are being reductive and dumb about gender and sexuality).

And I've seen a few takes where people complain about analyses, and say that the director/production doesn't do everything deliberately, and we're all reading too much into it. To which I say, eh, lighten up. How people connect to and relate to media has relevance beyond what was intended. The point is we get to think and discuss and learn and grow. That doesn't happen if we don't analyze.

Special shout out here to @respectthepetty because colors mean things!

4) The wild theories

The other side of the analysis coin, the clown cars y'all drive around in with the wildest of theories. I have happily climbed into an occasional clown car, and usually I am utterly wrong (*cough* Saifah *cough*). But it's a super fun ride. I love seeing how people's brains work. I love it when y'all are wrong. I love it when y'all are right. It's beautiful.

5) Immediate acceptance

I am one of those people who knows that I have a lot of good qualities, and also, always kind of expect rejection. Blame the childhood bullies, I guess. Anyway, whenever I delve into a new space, I still feel like a total dork that no one will want to talk to. It's kind of a fraught way to move through the world, but I manage.

Anyway, I started posting my thoughts as they came up, and people are just totally cool with it. People even follow me sometimes. Even my silliest thoughts and dumbest jokes get at least a couple likes. It's so validating.

And my very silly joke about gay mafia in Kiseki has over 800 likes. I feel very seen.

6) Mutuals

I still kind of can't believe I have any. This ties in to the dork feeling above, but seriously - they are soooo cooooool. They're smart and awesome and funny, and they somehow find me worth following back, which is baffling yet wonderful. I want to squish their faces and give them many kisses (if they're into that kind of thing).

7) The self-exploration

I really appreciate how it's become more talked about how a lot of people are discovering queerness through BL, because that is so the case for me. I think it's both that I was in a bit of a hetero bubble before, and also that I'm evolving a bit as I age. I had figured out I was demi, and maybe a little bit gay, before getting in to BL, but being in this community, and seeing so many of you share so openly and freely, has made me realize it might be more than a little bit.

Either it was a new realization, or being around y'all has made me more gay. Win win, either way.

8) The weirdness

I'm weird. Y'all are weird. I love it.

9) The thirst

So many in this community are thirsty as fuck, and as someone who is in that same condition, I love that it's not just me. There are not many places where I can freely admit how horny I am as a part of my general existence.

Here? I could post about wanting to lick some random BL actor's face, and it would get a bunch of likes and some tags like #lickable, and it's just not remotely a big deal.

Also the gifmakers understand this, and give us beautiful cuts of our spicy scenes. They are genuinely too good for us.

10) The communal watching experience

There is absolutely nothing like watching along with people in the community. It is so worth the torture of having to wait week to week for new episodes. Seeing the show trend, watching the theories fly fast and furious, or the way everyone collectively loses their minds over particular moments. In a world that can feel very isolating, it's a very warm experience.

So there you go. Thank you all for being you. Here's to another year of QL shenanigans and losing our collective minds!

[bby-bo]

When The Boss Comes Knocking

the following is a CEO!Sakusa fic that landed somewhere between sfw and sorta nsfw, but its kiyoomi and he just makes my brain go buzz in every situation so i just couldn’t help it 

Part 2

Summary: You dated Sakusa in high school but went your separate ways after graduation. Turns out he missed you much more than he let on. 

Warnings: none, just kiyoomi being hot. use of “sweetheart” and “baby”

Sakusa Kiyoomi always has been and will always be the man of your dreams. Tall and broad shouldered, even in his high school years he was the pinnacle of your existence, and all you wanted was to be near him. Your wishes were granted for only a brief period of time when you finally dated in your junior year, but your Kiyoomi was ripped away from you when his family decided he needed to start preparing to take over the business.

The Sakusa Group was well known and respected for their acquisition of many successful start-ups, but details of their business dealings were always very secretive. And the company had only grown and expanded since Kiyoomi became CEO at just a mere 25 years old- not that you were stalking the Sakusa Group’s movements in your free time or anything.

When the two of you broke up he had encouraged you to “follow your own dreams”, and made sure to mention he would be extremely busy in the years after graduating high school.  You had received the underlying message loud and clear. He wanted to be left alone and didn’t want a girl from a regular family ruining his image when he entered the executive world. Your heart was shattered, but that didn’t stop you from missing Kiyoomi dearly even years later. The hugs that completely enveloped your frame and the scent of his light cologne, the one he brought you to pick out for him on his birthday. The rasp of his deep voice and how its sound had burrowed into the back of your brain, the memories of random things he once said to you popping to the forefront of your mind haphazardly throughout your days.

You had done as he said, and moved to the city to become an author as you always dreamed. Actually, you were pretty successful in the romance industry and even though you only had a handful of books published, your fanbase was so dedicated and charismatic. In your single year of dating Kiyoomi you had amassed a lifetime’s worth of romantic material, and between your real life experiences with him and the melancholy fantasies that kept you up at night nowadays, you had lots of inspiration. Although, even you were prone to the classically dreaded writer’s block.

Today was just a regular Tuesday morning in the office, where you preferred to write when you were stuck in a rut. Unfortunately, the coffee mug on your desk was not bringing the inspiration that you wanted and you glared at the last sip, willing some piece of creativity to be hiding inside as you downed it. Nothing. Loosening a sigh, you dropped your head into your hands just as a knock rapped on the door. Without lifting your head you greeted the visitor, already knowing who was on the other side.

“Come in!”

“How’s it coming? Anything I can get you right now?” It was the sweet front desk girl, Josie, checking in on you. Again. 

“Unless you can write in my place, there’s not much you can do for me i'm afraid” Josie meant well, but her insistent interruptions certainly were not helping your workflow, and this was the third time within 30 minutes she’s asked if you needed anything.

“Okie dokie, I’ll check back later then! Keep at it! ” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” She was off with a wave without hearing your response, the door slamming behind her. With another sigh, your head dropped back into your hands, frustration building. 

Not 5 minutes later, there was another knock at the door. But this time the door opened before you could respond.

“Holy shit, Josie i’m really fine I swear- K-Kiyoomi???” You burst from your seat in surprise, your eyes all but popping out of your head.

And there he was, like a fever dream come to life, standing in the doorframe. His handsome face tilted to the side slightly, a smirk pulling across his lips.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you” His voice had gotten deeper since the last time you spoke. His hair a little longer, his chest a bit stronger. But his eyes remained the same, that dark gaze enticing you and melting you down with just a look.

“W-what are you doing here? How did you-? What is this??” 

As much as you wanted to cave and run straight into his arms, you vividly recalled your last conversation with Sakusa. Not Kiyoomi. He had corrected you so coldly before parting, saying “you should call me by last name from now on, otherwise people may get confused”. As if it would be bad if people mistakenly thought you were still dating. As if to push you that much further away. Your confusion only grew as you looked at him now, unsure of his motives for being here. 

“Came to scope out a new prospect. I sent an executive to meet with your publishing house’s CEO last week” His smirk widened as he took deliberately slow steps into the room, sleek confidence dripping from him. 

That's right, your boss had mentioned that your little publishing house had been recently approached by a huge parent company with an amazing offer, but as far as you knew nothing had been made official. And you certainly had no clue that said parent company was the Sakusa Group. The realization settled in, and the frustration you felt earlier was starting to bubble up again. 

All of a sudden he was in your space, sleek black button-up shirt in your direct line of sight. What was his goal here? Certainly this has nothing to do with you? Right. Exactly. He claimed he was here for business. Then why..??

Long fingers gripped your chin, thumb tugging your bottom lip from between your teeth where you nervously chewed it. 

“Where did you pick up this bad habit? And when are you planning on acknowledging me properly?” Your heart dropped to your stomach. His firm grip brought your face to look up at his, a little too close for comfort. Kiyoomi’s smirk tilted into a small frown, an admonishing look starting to grow.

“Of course sir, I apologize. Good morning Mr. Sakusa.” Backing out of his hold, you bowed in respect. Of course he was here for just business. 

This only seemed to irritate him further though, and when you rose from your greeting he took another step closer. You may as well have been toe to toe now. 

“Since when do you address me that way?” His eyes were too intense, and you could feel the memories of your past relationship coming up in your mind, emotion nearly overwhelming you before you swallowed it down.

“I’m not sure what you mean sir, it would be improper for me to address you otherwise” 

If he was irritated before, then he was surely pissed off now. 

His hands gripped your shoulders, roughly pushing you back against your desk before planting his palms on either side, caging you in. 

“Why won’t you look at me, hm? It’s disrespectful to ignore your superior sweetheart” Shit. That voice had you in a vice grip and he knew it. He was using it to his advantage. 

“I was unaware you would be my business superior until a minute ago, forgive me sir” How long will your legs hold up before melting completely?

“Seems like something is bothering you. You don’t like the idea of working with me? Or maybe you don’t like the idea of me being your boss? Sweetheart, I hope you realize I know you’ve been writing about me.” 

“No! No thats not-!” Your head shot up in a rush to disagree, or maybe to explain. Either way, you immediately realized your mistake and you were silenced once more. The tip of your nose brushed his, and his breath brushed your lips in an intimate greeting, as if to say “hey, i missed you”. 

His mock irritation melted away, the smirk returning once more. You fell into the trap too easily.

Most people knew Sakusa to be the cool and straightforward man he showed to the world, but when you dated in high school he quickly shattered this image. Though he certainly preferred to stay away from crowds and strangers, he was still human after all, and loved to be in your personal space whenever he got you alone. He had always enjoyed making you blush and stutter, thriving off the knowledge that he could affect you so deeply. Clearly, he still enjoyed that feeling. 

But you were not a toy, and he was interrupting your work day. And how dare he just come back into your life after throwing you aside for so many years?! Absolutely not, you refused to be disrespected this way. Your hands came to his chest, giving him a solid (and completely ineffective) shove.

“No. This is not professional Mr. Sakusa-!” 

Sakusa didn’t back up a single inch. Instead he gripped your face, long fingers pinching into your cheeks slightly. Your breath caught in your throat, previous arguments completely obliterated.

“Stop. Saying. No. Now answer me. Since when do you call me by my last name? You’re purposely not answering my question” 

When you took a breath in you caught the scent of his cologne, and it was the same one you picked out for him in high school. He still wore it. Every single thought emptied out of your head, except for the recognition of how close he was to you, and where he was touching you. 

“Say it.”

“K-Kiyoomi...”

“Say it like you mean it, baby.”

“Kiyoomi.” A smile broke out as his name fell from your mouth a second time.

“That’s my girl, just as pretty as ever. I missed you so bad sweetheart, I’ve been looking for you in the city for some time now. And don't worry, I’ll make up for lost time, so don’t push me away.” 

His second hand came up to the back of your head, tugging you back by your hair and bringing your mouth to his. But he didn’t kiss you, he denied you the pleasure, only speaking against your lips. You let him do as he pleased, no longer able to deny how much you missed him. Missed this. 

“Look at you with your hair so grown out now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love everything about you.” He moved to plant a firm kiss to both of your cheeks, and to your disappointment he slowly released his hands from your face and hair. 

“The Sakusa Group will officially be in ownership of your publisher by the end of the week. You’ll be seeing a lot more of me, so get used to it sweetheart.” He offered no further explanations or goodbyes, and he left your office with only your disheveled and flustered state to prove that he had really been there at all. 

You made absolutely zero progress on your writing the rest of the morning and afternoon, but when you returned the next day ready for another day of failure, you opened the door to see your office transformed into a florist. 

There were flowers on every single surface, completely covering your desk and the floor. There were roses of every shade, along with tulips, orchids, and other kinds of flowers you had never even seen before. Each bouquet was bursting with color and life, wrapped in silk ribbons and set in gorgeous porcelain vases that looked absolutely priceless.  There was only a small path left open for you to walk to your desk seat, and on your keyboard was a note. 

“A flower for every occasion I missed. And more just because.” 

Your hand came up to your mouth, tears already welling up in your eyes. You looked to the bottom, and saw he signed the note,

“Always Yours, Kiyoomi”

[starryknight-tarot]

𝓐𝓭𝓿𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻

pile 1 -- > pile 2 pile 3 -- > pile 4

my masterlist<3 . paid readings

Howdy my beautiful souls✨ I'm officially back! It feels like it has been forever since I last worked on a pac for y'all! Thank you all for the messages wishing for my health, I am feeling much better. Today we will be looking into advice you need to hear! I might be a little blunt so keep that in mind. Remember to meditate, take a deep breath, and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. My readings are meant for everyone, no matter what sexuality or identity you are. Since this is a general reading, make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Credit to @chachachannah for the divider!

Pile 1 Cards: Ace of Pentacles rx, Page of Swords, The Devil, The Star, King of Wands, Seven of Cups, Two of Pentacles, Queen of Pentacles Back of the Deck: Page of Wands

There is a lot to go over here Pile 1, you may have been going through it recently or things may feel pretty chaotic for you right now. For you guys, there are somethings you may be turning a blind eye to and opportunities you haven't been taking. Right now you need to take some time to plan and TAKE ACTION! Think about what you want and what you need to do to accomplish this task. And while this is time for action, be careful not to overwhelm yourself with responsibilities, or rush into anything without properly thinking it through. You may be putting yourself down, thinking whatever you want is impossible or out of reach, it isn't. In fact, I heard it's right in front of you or hidden in plain sight. There may be negative affirmations that you are either hearing from yourself or someone else and it is only pulling you further from your goals when you listen to these words, absorb them, and view them as fact when they aren't. You need to keep in mind the power of words and how they can not only effect you, but the people around you. I heard "when you go around with a loser mentality, you are only going to get a loser result" so even in situations where you feel like you are going to lose or that something won't be successful, you need to try to think positive anyway. I know that isn't the easiest request, however, actively reminding yourself of your positive affirmations and staying determined to keep trying when things get hard can take you further than you ever thought you could go. Use your creative brain and I heard be willing to use your heart in certain situation. With the Seven of Cups, there may be a situation or even a person around you that isn't what you think. Be aware of signs that things don't entirely add up or make sense. For some of yall, this is going to be about a travel destination or someone may be offering something that isn't real. With the Devil energy, you may have an unhealthy addiction to something, for some of you I am hearing your phone or social media (who isn't now a days). You may have been consuming too much media and it is really taking a toll on you. Whatever the addiction is, this can go two way for you, you can take the proper action to help yourself or keep hurting yourself by not getting the help you need. Pile 1, you have so much potential and abundance that can be coming your way if you would just believe in yourself!

Advice Cards:

Be bold. It's time to lead forward!

Release what you do not need. Let go of some extraneous aspect of your life

It's time to challenge old beliefs!

Release all attachments that do not serve you

Complete the project or task. Something is calling for closure

Create an internal structured frame of reference and stay focused

Channeled Songs:

Pile 2 Cards: Knight of Swords, Temperance, The Empress rx, Nine of Swords rx, Knight of Wands, The Emperor, Ace of Wands rx Back of the Deck: Ten of Wands

For my Pile 2, we need to talk about how you see yourself and your own self-confidence. I actually feel like this group is divided into two groups, some of you need to work on your confidence and how you interact with yourself. You may be putting yourself down and you need to stop it! You have wonderful energy Pile 2 and deserve love and compliments just as much as others! You just need to see what everyone else sees. You are refusing people because you may have been taught that complimenting yourself shows signs of selfishness and narcissism, something along those lines. It isn't true, you are talented and strong and deserve all the compliments and praise you receive! For the second group of you, I actually want to say to keep it up and don't give up! You may feel a little out of inspiration and creativity but you may just need time to process your thoughts and really figure out what you need to do! Stay confident and positive in your work! I heard this confidence and outgoing nature is your greatest ally. In the moments that you feel like you can't get anything right and things seem impossible, remember who you are! You are that bitch! The sky is the limit for you Pile 2. You can do it, you just need to trust in yourself, beware of last minute nerves that sneak up on you and make you doubt yourself. Also don't be afraid to take bold action and maybe even trying your hand at a leadership position, you have what it takes you just need to believe in yourself. I think that is a big message here for my Pile 2s, believing what you want is possible and just doing it. I know that sounds like a hard task but I really feel like for my Pile 2s, you guys don't even realize your potential and it almost physically hurts me. Some of yall also need to take a step away from worrying about your appearance, it is only hurting you in a really unhealthy way. My Pile 2s are so beautiful inside and out and shouldn't forget that. You may need to work more on your divine masculine energy, regardless of your gender. (There is a little similar energy to Pile 1 so if you felt called, please do read Pile 1)

Advice Cards:

It is time to take appropriate action

A rite of passage allows you to move forward into new realms

Weigh your situation carefully

Give yourself your own approval

Create a plan and take the first step

Give up resistance in your current situation

Channled Songs:

Pile 3 Cards: King of Swords rx, Nine of Cups rx, Page of Wands rx, Nine of Wands, Two of Swords rx, King of Pentacles, Four of Wands, Eight of Wands rx Back of the Deck: Five of Wands

I think for my Pile 3's, you need to stop being so strict on yourself, I am also hearing that you need to surrender to something. There may an event or situation that you have been avoiding for a long time now and spirit is saying that it's time to face this and accept the result. This may be something that you feel pushes you farther from your goals or you are just afraid of the unknown of the situation, something along these lines. I am hearing that even if the situation seems like it is bound to end badly, the result isn't going to be as bad as you think, it may even end with a pretty good result! I am also getting that for some of you, you are going to or are currently facing a tough decision that is making you stressed and anxious, especially if this decision feels really important, I think spirit wants you to follow your heart with this decision. With the King of Swords, I feel like following what seems logical in this may have a more harmful result then you would have liked. But also remember that you have time, with this decision but also just in general. There is time, life feels like it moves very fast but it may help you to take some time to slow down. I am feeling a breeze and I'm seeing you in nature, feeling a nice breeze blow through your hair. You may want to connect with nature more, I am hearing for some of you, you may just need to take a little walk. I feel like for my pile 3's, you may want to be more generous with yourself. If there is something you have been thinking about buying, buy it. If you have something you've felt would be selfish of you, be a little selfish. I think you need to spoil yourself a little more. I am hearing especially going into this new year. Life is too short not to take some risks is what I am hearing. I'm also hearing some of you need to be a little more delusional lmao. Some of yall should listen to some subliminals, this might be a little helpful in some of your situations. I also want my Pile 3s to beware of conflicts with others, I am hearing some of you could be nicer to the people around you or that you may need to work on admitting when you are in the wrong.

Advice Cards:

Control is an illusion. Surrender and allow the Universe to guide you

Align your body, mind, and spirit with your heart

Create a plan and take the first step

It's time to realize the blueprint of your soul

Be aware of your inner messages

Be adventurous. It's time to go for it!

Channeled Songs:

Pile 4 Cards: Page of Swords, Four of Pentacles, The Chariot, The Hanged Man rx, Knight of Swords, Justice rx, Nine of Swords rx, King of Swords Back of the Deck: Nine of Cups

There is a lot of swords energy for this pile! The swords has a lot to do with communication and possible conflicts in that. I think for a good amount of this pile, you guys need to work on how you communicate but mostly with how you communicate with yourself. I feel like you guys may be putting yourself down and saying things to yourself that aren't even true, and some of you even know that they aren't true. You guys need to realize that you are stopping yourself from achieving things, I don't care how many excuses you may have. Some of yall are manifesting and trying to say all the positive affirmations to bring the things you want to life, however you are forgetting that positive affirmations are only a part of manifestation. One of the most important parts is to actually put in the work to get the things you want. The things you want aren't just going to fall into your lap, you need to push yourself and try new things to get what you want, even if it seems scary at first. Like, I feel like you guys may be telling yourself things to delay taking action on your passions and it's not bringing you any closer to your goals. Which is sad because we have the Nine of Cups at the back of the deck, your dreams are a reality and can come true! For some of you I feel like it won't even be that far from you but you are delaying it! I can see the visual of you feeling like you have chains attached to your legs, these chains representing your past, family, doubts, all of it, they feel so heavy and scary. But what you don't realize is that these chains aren't holding you down at all, you have the power to push through and move forward. I am also getting for some of yall, you may have just went through a bad breakup or ended some sort of relationship, take it how it resonates. But I feel like a lot of you are holding onto this person and want some sort of closure from them, and spirit is saying that there just isn't going to be some closure, at least on their end. Sometimes we meet people, and they break our hearts and some people don't have the emotional maturity to deal with it in the rights ways and that person isn't you. It can feel empty and sad not to get closure on some relationships but what's stronger and harder is to know to walk away when things are getting bad. There will be people that come into your life that will treat you better, that person just wasn't that person. You guys need to remember that you are smart and wise and soooo powerful!

Advice Cards:

Hold your life from a sacred viewpoint. Witness the universal picture

The issue at hand is about reflection. What is the mirror showing you?

Put your tasks and goals in order

Something you've planted is coming to harvest. Results are forthcoming!

Boldly imagine what you can do and be

You are ready to receive your fortune. Be miracle minded!

Bring something new into your life!

Channeled Songs:

Thanks for tuning in₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

[dudeslut]

Just being naked gets me so horny. Especially the idea of being in a group and being the only one without clothes, fully on display. Just knowing I'm there to be shown off, touched at any time, and asked to perform embarrassing sexual acts.

It's almost hotter if no one fucks me and I'm forced to fuck myself. Aside from some occasional groping, fingering, light spanking, or nipple teasing, I have to get myself off. Of course the others in the room will give out orders, "bend over the counter and jerk off while I spank you," "hump your tiny dick on the corner of the coffee table," "get on the floor, stick your ass in the air, and present your holes to us," "lay facedown on the couch and finger your ass while grinding your cock into the cushions," "fuck your sloppy hole on the bed post while we take turns stretching your ass with different objects."

They get more and more creative as I prove how good I can follow their instructions; moaning like a slut and cumming in front of them is also good encouragement. By the end of the gathering, my brain is fuzzy and I'm so worked up my only concern is making myself cum over and over.

The pleasure is overwhelming and I never want it to stop. I'm feverishly humping the furniture and fingering myself, leaving messy wet spots everywhere. I'm whining and whimpering, admitting how good it feels to rub my naked little cock on everything while they watch. How good it feels to have my messy holes on display, unable to hide my arousal.

Everyone is egging me on, entertained by how much I'm willing to humiliate myself. Some coo faux sympathy, "aww, so horny you don't care you're acting like such a slut in front of us huh? Yeah, making such pretty noises and putting on such a good show for us."

Others laugh and taunt, "you're not even getting fucked and you're already reduced to a pathetic mess! So embarrassing to get off on getting naked in front of a crowd. You showing us your messy holes, and rubbing your bare little dick on the furniture."

It all feeds my never ending desperation. By the end, I'm fucked out, drunk off my own arousal, and already wanting to plan another gathering.

[sirfrogsworth]

I found these replies very frustrating and fairly ableist. Do people not understand that disabilities and functionality vary wildly from person to person? Just because one person can draw with their teeth or feet doesn't mean others can.

And where is my friend supposed to get this magic eye movement drawing tech from? How is he supposed to afford it? And does the art created from it look like anything? Is it limited to abstraction? What if that isn't the art he wants to make?

Also, asking another artist to draw something for you is called a commission. And it usually costs money.

I have been using the generative AI in Photoshop for a few months now. It is trained on images Adobe owns, so I feel like it is in an ethical gray area. I mostly use it to repair damaged photos, remove objects, or extend boundaries. The images I create are still very much mine. But it has been an incredible accessibility tool for me. I was able to finish work that would have required much more energy than I had.

My friend uses AI like a sketchpad. He can quickly generate ideas and then he develops those into stories and videos and even music. He is doing all kinds of creative tasks that he was previously incapable of. It is just not feasible for him to have an artist on call to sketch every idea that pops into his brain—even if they donated labor to him.

I just think seeing these tools as pure evil is not the best take on all of this. We need them to be ethically trained. We need regulations to make sure they don't destroy creative jobs. But they do have utility and they can be powerful tools for accessibility as well.

These are complicated conversations. I'm not claiming to have all of the answers or know the most moral path we should steer this A.I behemoth towards. But seeing my friend excited about being creative after all of these years really affected me. It confused my feelings about generative A.I. Then I started using similar tools and it just made it so much easier to work on my photography. And that confused my feelings even more.

So...I am confused.

And unsure of how to proceed.

But I do hope people will be willing to at least consider this aspect and have these conversations.