#And everything I've used to make it is free (because I have no money) so apologies if it's bad 😅

[alexbkrieger13]

Nice lil interview w magda & p about the world 7 tournament https://www.dn.se/sport/mer-prispengar-i-sjumannaturnering-an-i-champions-league-pinsamt-for-uefa/

More prize money in seven-a-side tournament than in Champions League: "Embarrassing for Uefa"

On May 24, the women's Champions League football will be decided with the Arsenal–Barcelona final in Lisbon. The winner will have won around 14 million Swedish kronor.

So far, everything is “business as usual”.

What is unusual this year: The day before, another major European team was awarded just half an hour away – with 25 million .

The World Sevens Football tournament is the new upstart in women's football. Eight teams share a total prize pool of five million dollars (nearly 50 million kronor), outside the auspices of the European Football Association, UEFA.

– The fact that this gives more prize money than the Champions League puts a lot of pressure on Uefa to actually increase the prize money in the Champions League, I think that is positive, says Swedish national team defender Magdalena Eriksson.

– It almost becomes a little embarrassing for them.

Her Bayern Munich is one of the teams in Estoril outside Lisbon May 21-23.

Both the 31-year-old and his club and life partner Pernille Harder, Danish national team star, will travel with the German champion team to Portugal - despite the fact that the club season is actually over and the European Championship is just over a month away.

– We will go there with the whole squad, but some are only there as support, says Magdalena Eriksson when DN meets the Bayern duo in Munich.

– I have said that I am there as a backup if needed.

So you've had to make your own wishes if you want to play?

– Absolutely. It's really been up to us players. So there's been no pressure at all from the club.

The background is an already intense match for the biggest European women's stars.

The workload is high and no one wants to risk anything before the European Championship. At the same time, a new, fast-paced format is appealing.

The matches are played seven against seven, 2x15 minutes and with free substitutions.

– I think it's really exciting, says 32-year-old striker Pernille Harder.

– I've been going back and forth a bit about whether I want to play or not because of the European Championship, but this is also a fun way to keep going. And it's the Nations League the following week anyway, so for me it was this or running on the treadmill. And then I'd rather play.

Behind World Sevens is, among others, Jennifer Mackesy, co-owner of Gotham FC in the American women's league NWSL.

The idea is to attract a new type of audience.

– I don't think you have to be an extreme football nerd to watch this, says Pernille Harder.

– When it's eleven against eleven, you can sometimes think that not much is happening. But here a lot more will happen, it's a little smaller pitch, there will be more goals, more intensity. There will be a little more excitement.

Is it the future or a gimmick?

– I think it's fun that you can think innovatively about football. It's otherwise so strict and "old school", it's looked the same for so long, answers Magdalena Eriksson.

– So this is an exciting new approach.

She makes a comparison with the popular Kings League and Queens League in Spain – football with board game or video game rules.

– It has worked very well. But with us you also get a little more “real” clubs, and this is still something we do in training – at least once a week.

[xxprincess1x]

Darling, It'll Be Alright | Gentlebeard Fanvid

Show: Our Flag Means Death

Music: Darling, It'll Be Alright by Allman Brown

[theflyingfeeling]

the love of my entire life

[thingsidrawgohere]

Alright. I'm calling it done before it kills me. This is Second Head. It's an Art Book containing instances of the phrase "second head" in fanfics found on AO3. I'll explain much, MUCH more in the cut.

So when I say 'art book', I mean this is an intrinsic piece. I have no motivations aside from personal amusement and interest in outcome. A lot of money was lost/transmuted into free frustration in this project and I have no claims, obviously. I will prolly be the only person alive to read this.

THAT SAID. I have noticed in my years reading fanfic, there's a few linguistic shibboleths that arise in authors who also have experience in the mines. I think there's not a soul alive who hadn't wandered across a 'ministrations' when reading Narutos oral sexing. There's- Hold on. Here's some pix.

There's an impulse, I think, to in-group even when performing a creative act. A feeling that there are certain ways one Should go about the act, by virtue of seeing it performed that way. Especially so when 'training' at the act is often just Doing. Double Dog Especially when the act is exclusively for oneself with very little oversight. Which is to say, we make what we see and we make what we think we should make. At least, at first.

Now, I've been noticing 'grew a second head' (to insinuate surprise) in fanfic for some time. I've never seen it used Outside of fanfic. (Edit to add: I am not making the argument the phrase is from fanfic. Nor do I Believe it is from fanfic. Jesus Hopping Christ, people. That's not what this project is about.) That may speak to my own bad habits but it got me curious. So a friend and myself downloaded a mirror of AO3 from July of 2024. He did some code- Stuff to scan the mirror for "second head" and of the ~13 million works, ~70k (English) results were returned. That's a rounding error, honestly, but Far FAR more than I expected.

This book is 401 such examples that I personally selected for a variety of reasons. The number itself was arbitrarily chosen. Each page is separate fic, the roughly 300 words around our key phrase.

I don't think repetition or mirroring is a negative thing. I think it's quite charming. Nor do I think it's a sign of a 'bad' artist or 'bad' art. I think it's a signifier of personhood, of belonging, of enthusiasm. Of culture shared and wishing to share. I think it's real sweet. I always smile when I catch a 'grown a second head' in a work.

And it's really fucking funny when it's John Sherlock getting a sloppy toppy. Bless.

Edit: Fixed a very VERY funny error.

Edit: I am not making the argument that the phrase is exclusive to fanfic or, fucking forbid, FROM fanfic. I'm stating this Again because we skim here. Also- If you would like slamdunk my ass by stating the phrase predates the Internet or your GenX parents use it, please use 'sailboat' in your comment so I know you're specifically trying to kill me.

Edit Edit: You know what? Fine. I DO think this phrase came from fandom. I think ENGLISH came from fandom. I think YOU came from fandom. I think EVERYTHING came from fandom. The Sun, the Moon, the Seas- Fandom. Specifically Sonic Mpreg. The second head was Shadow the Hedgehog crowning. Congrats!

[neolithicsheep]

I've been meaning to write this down for some time because there are some fundamental errors that people keep making in crowdfunding/sales that shoot their campaigns in the foot. So here's a list of easy principles.

Who am I and why should you listen to me? I am a freelance chaos marketer who has raised well over $100,000 when totaling up various crowdfunding campaigns, mostly for aid to Afghanistan. In addition I've managed to successfully market everything from stuffed plush koalas to hydration salts. Why am I putting this out here for free? Because despite a years long track record of success in social media marketing no one will hire me because I don't have a college degree, so I might as well help people out who can't afford to hire full time marketing. 

If you'd like to hire me to help you evaluate your marketing and sales and teach you better skills on a 1 to 1 basis then hit me up, I am often willing to barter, esp with artists in a variety of mediums! 

Anyway on to HOW TO CONVINCE PEOPLE TO GIVE YOU MONEY:

TL;DR: use positive messaging that humanizes everyone involved and make it as easy as possible for people to give you money.

1. Shame and guilt are demotivators. They will not inspire people to give you money. “Why aren't people helping” “I guess people don't care” “This isn't getting enough shares/donations” etc etc. Online fundraising is often frustrating, heartbreaking, and will make you angry, especially when there's a humanitarian crisis involved. It is critical that if you are raising funds for someone else that you have a place to vent that is not the audience you would like to donate to the cause. 

2. Use motivating messages instead! “You can help!” “Even a small donation is important because it tells Recipient they're not alone, and people care” “We can't fix the whole world, but we can make this one thing right, and that means something”. Emphasize that this is a problem that the reader can help fix with even a small effort. With items for sale, tell a story. "I drew this thinking about how safe I always felt under a tree in my childhood backyard". "I chose the colors in this shawl to remind me of sagebrush and piñon pine in my favorite place."

3. Make it easy for people to give you money. Never talk about your product or cause without a link that leads directly to where people can give you money. They should be able to click one link on your post and land at the fundraiser or your shop. Every required click is going to lose people, so minimize the number of them required. This also means if you have a list of fundraisers for people to choose from the ones at the bottom will be neglected - people will hit the ones at the top. Be sure to take those off when they're met or periodically shuffle the list around to make sure everyone gets a chance to be in the first 5 spots. In online stores people will often only look at the first page or two of items so be sure to shuffle things around and remove out of stock items that are taking up prime real estate.

4. Humanize the recipient - this can be tricksy when raising charitable aid because you don't want to be exploitative. But to use my last Afghan campaign as an example, “We need to raise $500 for an Afghan family” is less effective than “This Afghan family's home was damaged in heavy rains that caused extensive flooding. They only need $500 to repair and rebuild so they can stay in their home and not become displaced.”  If possible, tell as much of the recipient's story as they consent to. Eg “Fred is seven and loves dinosaurs. His favorite is brontosaurus, and he carries a stuffed one with him everywhere. He wants to be a paleontologist when he grows up and discover a complete brontosaurus skeleton that he can give the same name as his stuffed friend. Unfortunately he's also a trans boy living in Texas and his family needs $1500 to rent a Uhaul and get to Colorado so he can grow up in safety and do that.”

5. If you're not the recipient, humanize yourself while you're at it! “I'd be really grateful if you all could share or donate” “This fundraiser really means a lot to me because…” “Thank you so much for any help, whether sharing or donating” 

6. Treat the audience like humans. Speak to them like they are people you're having a conversation with, not ATMs. This ultimately is the goal of not using shame/guilt and humanizing yourself and the recipient. 

7. Set low goals and bump them up when met. One of the weird things about people is they prefer to give to successful fundraisers. Yeah I don't know either. So you're more likely to get the full amount you need if you set a partial goal initially and then raise it when that's met. Raise it in small increments and raise it repeatedly as those goals are hit to keep momentum going. You can't always control this so if you're boosting someone else's fundraiser you can do it artificially via asks like “Hey y'all can we get together and put $500 on this?”

[lou-wilham]

I can't believe I have to say this again

Look. I've posted about how piracy fucks the little guys at least twice already, but guys, seriously, I'm being so fucking real with you, PIRACY FUCKS THE LITTLE GUY.

And this is just another shining example of how.

8 of my titles are on this list. 8 of my titles that I spent months writing, editing, revising, crying over, screaming over, plotting, putting my heart into have been pirated, and then used to train some soulless AI that will then go on to make money for a big corporation, without my consent.

And I'm on the lower end. Other authors literally have over 100 works on this list. New authors just getting into this have their debut books on this list.

I repeat, this was done without our consent. This was done because someone pirated our book, and made it available to the general public for free.

So when I beg you to please not pirate books. When I tell you that it's literally ripping the potential to make our art our livelihood from our hands. When I say that every author would 100% rather you come to us and ask us about where to find our books outside of pirate sites, or even to see if we have any ARCs available if you can't afford it. . .

I do so because in the end the only one you're hurting is artists who are just like you. Just trying to put food on the table. Working long hours. Giving up weekends. Putting everything they've got into their work. And all we're asking for is that you not pirate our books, so that we can pay our bills.

We do this thing because we love it, but there's no reason that doing something we love that provides entertainment for others shouldn't make us enough to live off of. If you don't believe that, I'm afraid you've fallen for the brainwashing bullshit that some jobs "just aren't worth anything". And that, my dears, is a larger problem than I have the ability to express.

Everyone should make a fair wage from drive thru workers to writers.

Everyone should be able to pay their bills.

Don't pirate shit.

Thank you, goodnight.

[glowettee]

✧ if it doesn't align with the dream life, it's a distraction ✧

hey lovelies!! 🦢

omg, so, i was literally journaling last night & this phrase just hit me like… so hard. "if it doesn't align with the dream life, it's a distraction." i had to stop writing and just sit with that for a min.

because honestly? i've been feeling so scattered lately. like my energy is going in a million directions but none of them are taking me where i actually want to go. and i realized that's exactly what happens when we don't have clarity on our it-girl blueprint.

so what even is an it-girl blueprint? it's not just aesthetic or vibes (tho those matter too!!) but it's this deep knowing of who you're meant to become. it's that version of you who wakes up excited, who feels aligned, who's living in her dream apartment with her dream career and her dream people. she exists!! she's waiting for you to become her!!

this post is a bit different from my most recents, i wanted to take a little tinyyy break from my pop culture series', like the pll x glowettee and vampire diaries x glowettee series' and just focus more on self-improvement again. i also wanted to take a break from the overwhelming aesthetics i've been using in my posts, and justtttt write~~ (no small text, no crazy colors, just my thoughts) and i realized that distractions have been very prominent in my life lately... so i wanted to address it in this post, and some possible solutions <3

✧ what's actually distracting you? ✧

okay so grab your journal rn and let's get super real about what's pulling you away from your dream life, feel free to use these prompts:

that situationship that makes you feel anxious every time they text (you know the one)

the hours of scrolling that leave you feeling empty inside

saying yes to plans when your body is literally begging you to rest

the "friend" who always has drama and makes everything about them

that project you started because you thought you "should" but you actually hate

staying in that job/class/situation because you're scared to disappoint someone

comparing your chapter 1 to someone else's chapter 20 (guilty!!)

i've been doing this work myself and it's kinda scary how many things i was pouring energy into that weren't actually taking me anywhere i wanted to go??

✧ getting clear on your actual dream life ✧

before we can align with our dream life, we need to know what it actually looks like! not what instagram or your mom or society thinks it should look like, but what YOU want.

some journal prompts that helped me:

when do i feel most like myself?

what activities make me lose track of time?

who makes me feel seen, safe, and supported?

what would my perfect morning routine look like if i had zero obligations?

what kind of spaces make me feel calm and inspired?

what would i do with my time if money wasn't an issue?

what parts of my current life would i keep even if i could change everything?

i did this exercise last weekend and realized that so many things i was chasing weren't even in my dream life blueprint?? like i was stressing about getting into this super competitive program but when i really thought about it, it wasn't even aligned with what i actually want. wild.

✧ how to actually make decisions that align ✧

okay, so here's my little framework for making choices that actually build your dream life:

the body check: before saying yes to anything, check in with your body. does it feel expansive and light, or contracted and heavy? your body literally knows before your brain does!!

the future self question: what would the version of you who's already living your dream life do? she knows!! trust her!!

the energy audit: does this person/activity/commitment give you energy or drain it? only say yes to energy-givers (this one changed my life omg)

the alignment test: ask yourself "does this move me closer to or further from my dream life?" be brutally honest!!

the joy metric: if it doesn't bring you joy or lead to joy, why are you doing it?? (unless it's like… taxes or something lol)

✧ how to let go of the distractions ✧

this is the hardest part tbh. because we get attached to things even when they're not serving us! here's what's helping me:

remember that saying no to something is saying yes to your dream life

start with the easiest distractions first (for me it was unfollowing accounts that made me feel bad)

create little rituals around letting go (i write things down and then burn the paper)

remind yourself that outgrowing things is part of becoming

be gentle with yourself when you slip back into old patterns (we all do it!!)

i had to let go of a friendship a few months that was taking so much energy, and it was really hard but also?? i suddenly had all this space to focus on things that actually matter to me.

✧ your dream life alignment practice ✧

here's a little daily practice i've been doing:

morning: set an intention to notice what aligns and what distracts

throughout the day: when making choices, ask "dream life or distraction?"

evening: celebrate the aligned choices you made + gently note the distractions

it's not being perfect!! it's becoming more conscious of our choices. because every tiny decision is either building your dream life or… not.

i've been doing this for about three weeks now and i already feel so much clearer and more focused. like i'm finally moving in one direction instead of being pulled in a million different ones.

remember: you deserve your dream life. and it starts with choosing it, over and over, in all the tiny moments.

question from mindy:

what's one distraction you're ready to let go of? and one aligned action you're ready to take? (feel free to send me a message in my inbox, or just reblog answering this question.)

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[xitsensunmoon]

My first ever comic con! And first cosplay too. Of course it's gonna be my boy :] Ramblings about the process are under the cut(Let me know if?? You would want me to elaborate with process images for any of the steps?)

The costume took me forever to make, as I've never done any machine sewing, sculpting, fabric dying or spray painting before but learning all of these was so fucking fun!! I never realised just how many different skills go into making a cosplay but it was so worth it!!!

Almost all of the clothes(except the hat) were purchased first as bases, but all of the detailing was added by me. All of the fabric used was originally just scraps that I was given for free so I needed to learn how to dye and dye all of the stars, they were originally white.

The sewing machine was its own beast that brought me tons of frustration from the lack of skill and knowledge (it was devastating to find out that 95% of fuck ups were my fault and not the machine's lmao). But as a result, a hat sewn from scratch, all of the fur trims, embroidery on the corset, stars and the collar(which is very hard to see on the pictures unfortunately) was all added manually. The stars and the stripes(on the back of the cape) were attached using heat-and-bond adhesive (I WISH I knew about such thing just when I started working on this. It would save me so much time and nerves.)

Then I found out about polymorph(mouldable plastic) and it has become the next thing I wanted to learn, to sculpt the claws and the fangs(yes, they're handmade jfksjs). The claws I then primed and painted in trillion coats because I wasn't satisfied with the colour of the spray paint. The fangs I moulded to my own teeth and then stained with tea to match the colour of my teeth :)c

As for makeup, I used Mehron Paradise water activated paints. At first I wanted to try to save money and bought myself Snazaroo instead, which unfortunately turned out to be a waste. Snazaroo didn't hold on my face for longer than 2 hours, cracking and peeling awfully. Mehron on the other hand survived 11 hours of me smiling, talking, emoting and such and didn't even crease at the smile lines(I'm actually shocked about that). It obviously works like any other makeup which means your skin texture and wrinkles won't go anywhere but Mehron's elasticity pleasantly surprised me. It did obviously smear from sweat and saliva(if you're eating and licking your lips) but if you don't touch the skin it just dries again, self setting. But if it's dry it's fully smear-proof. Highly recommend!

And last but not least, I've decided against painting my hands as it was very risky that I will stain everything I touch at the smallest hint of sweat. So instead I got myself gloves-tights(? Not sure how they're called but it's made from the same fabric as tights) and painted them with normal acrylic paint(did you know you could dye fabric with acrylic paint? I personally didn't), then heat set with an iron and voilà, they're reusable, my hands are not stained after an exhausting day and I don't stain everything I touch. It worked wonderfully which honestly was a surprise as I was really sceptical that acrylic paint will somehow stay in place.

I think this whole thing took me minimum of 6 months with big-big breaks for my school and life in general. But I'm really proud! This project taught me so many new skills and I couldn't have been happier about learning new knowledge, even if it sucked to fail in the meantime.

Everyone at the con was really nice and gave me a large confidence boost even tho it was my first time and I had no idea what I was doing. Taking photos with other people was really awkward/new for me as I hate cameras so I really had no idea how to pose/behave in front of one. But that's okay I think. This whole experience definitely made me want to do this again, so I think that will come with experience. Thank you for reading this far, hope you enjoyed this little summary :)

[dolche-tejada]

You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he has Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best our MC could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

[mortalityplays]

You need more free art.

I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.

You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.

We all need more free art.

So what am I going to do about it?

This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.

I'm going to do this:

1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.

This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.

Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.

2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.

Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.

Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.

I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.

2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY

To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.

On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.

You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.

3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS

Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).

The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.

4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE

I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.

tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITAH for telling my wife no?

My wife (35f) and I (38m) have been married for 12 years, dated for 3 before that. We have 3 kids (10m, 7f, and 5f). We both work full time in separate fields, she does some chemistry thing that I don't understand and I am a manager at a computer repair store my friend runs, and also a short story writer when its slow. She is definitely the breadwinner bill payer between the two of us, but I bring in the fun money for our family and would be completely listless if I didn't at least work part time. We also fully own our home because of her job.

Also, my parents watch the kids for us during the week when we are working. It's been this way since our son was born, and they've been doing it less since they are all in school. But it's free childcare, they refuse to accept money unless it's reimbursing for buying food.

Ok, now that all of that backstory is set, here's where the problem begins.

A couple of months ago my wife started pepper into conversations about a possible promotion coming up that would get her out of the lab and into a more "manage the lab team" position, with less dangerous hours for more pay. Ever since the first time she mentioned it I've been hyping her up and telling her she's a shoo in for the promotion, especially since she's been working there since her masters internship and now she has a PhD.

Last night she told me she was getting word today if she got it! After she left for work this morning I called my boss up and told him I couldn't come in today, and then told my parents the kids were saying with me. We spent the day cleaning the house, drawing congratulations cards, and making a congratulations banner. We also made a couple cards that say sorry and we love you for if she didn't get it. I was working on making her favorite dinner (lobster rolls with lobster bisque, because she's a fancy lady) when she got home earlier than normal. Everyone was surprised, because noone is usually home at this time and yet here everyone was. She got tears in her eyes seeing everything we were still working on, got down and hugged our two youngest, and said she got the promotion! Cheering all around! And that's when she dropped the bomb, saying we need to get a realtor in a state three away from us so we can relocate within the next two months.

I was stunned, and just said no, we arent moving for this promotion. In all of her talks she never mentioned that the promotion wasn't for the same location she's been at. All of our family is here, her parents and mine, all of our friends are here, my job is here. She insisted that she's mentioned relocating before but I swear she never did. That set of a completely new argument about never listening to her and only hearing what I want to hear, and how this will make it so I can stay home with the kids and not even need a fun money job. During this I noticed she was typing on her phone, and when I asked why she was multitasking an argument she said she was texting my parents to get the kids so they don't have to see this.

When my parents got here they congratulated her on the promotion and asked how long until we move.

She told my parents the promotion included relocation.

I'm typing this on the couch in the basement, because I can't face her right now. My parents knowing means she probably did say we would need to move if she got it. I don't want to move, I like my job, and our house. I like being near my parents. I know this would practically set us for life but I don't want to. I know I'm being selfish, and I know I must not be listening when she talks, but I still don't think she should accept the promotion. I still think no.

What are these acronyms?

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 7

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love. 

CW: 18+ MDNI. In order to avoid spoilers, all tags are under the cut in small red lettering. Reader does have some body descriptions so more of an oc than female reader.

AN: I am not the least bit sorry for the ending 😉

Word Count: 8k

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | AO3

TW: open door smut scenes, unprotected P in V. Cream pie. Squirting. Use of nipple clamps. Oral (female receiving). Fingering (anal and vaginal). Ass play. Use of nicknames (good girl, sweet girl). Pussy and dick pronouns. Joel having a filthy mouth.

You

Holy shit, I just fucked Joel Miller. 

The thought rattles around your brain over and over, as if the more you say the more real it will feel, but you’re still floating, still up in the clouds even though you’re firmly tucked against Joel's side. Your head rests in his chest, rising and falling with the quick rhythm of this breathing. Your eyes flick down to his beautiful cock; it’s standing straight up, ready whenever you are, as you both try to slow your heartbeats and breathing. You nestle your body tighter to the warm, solid wall of a man beside you, wrapping a leg around his. He slides his fingers up and down your spine. As you lay in silence your mind races. 

“Just call me Joel”. 

There are almost too many things bouncing around your head, making it hard to focus on only one. Does he love me? When I tell him what I've decided with college, will he think I’m staying in Austin because of this? Aren’t I staying in Austin because of this? How else do I explain it? What about my friends? I don’t want to keep this a secret anymore; is this worth losing my job over? What if this is all part of his plan? Sleep with me and then use it as a reason to end our dom/sub relationship? Is this even a dom/sub relationship anymore? 

Anxiety and worry start to buzz through your veins. The sight of soft belly and rock hard cock blurs. You slam your eyes shut, the unknown starting to overwhelm you. Sucking in a big breath, you try to break the vice grip that’s starting to tighten around on your lungs and throat. 

“Are you ok?” Joel says softly. 

“Ya,” you nod as his free hand that's been tucked under his head comes to your chin and tilts it up. The moment you’re engulfed by his soft chocolate brown eyes, your brain stops. Quiet washes over you. You’re safe here, you’ve always been safe here. Rolling over, you perch yourself on his leg and hip, chin resting on the tops of your hands as they lay on his chest. You can feel his heart beating strong and steady under your hands. That’s what you need: consistent stability. No, not need, deserve.

Joel removes the golden clip from your hair. “Freckles, I probably should have said this before, but this isn’t what I normally do with my subs, and I’m…”

His eyes dance around yours as he pauses. You can see a million emotions happening at once, all of them mirrored in yours. Fear. Happiness. Confusion. Anxiety. Vulnerability. But mostly, love. You finish the sentence for him.

“I’m pretty sure we aren’t just a dom and a sub, Joel. I don’t know if we ever have been.”

I love you.

 With that, he pulls himself up, stuffing some pillows so he can lean comfortably against the headboard. You follow, and he guides you to straddle his lap, his cock pressed between your bodies. The air between you feels thick with emotion. Both of you look at the other, your shallow breaths in sync before both of you snap and dive in. The kiss is hungry and desperate. There’s probably a million things you both could say, but in this moment, the kiss is enough. 

“I’m never going to get enough of you,” he moans as your lips trail his jawline. 

“Good,” you hum, sliding your hips up to drag your pussy along his length. You’ve slept with a handful of men before Joel, but it’s never been this passionate with anyone else. You just had each other, yet here you both are, acting like it’s been years since you’ve touched. His head falls back, a sigh passing his parted lips as you kiss down his neck. 

“Fuck that feels good, sweet girl.” His hands tighten along your hips. Joel is always so concerned with your pleasure and needs, so for now, or for as long as he’ll let you, you spend time focusing on him. You kiss every inch of him that you can reach: his neck and shoulders, his collarbone and ear lobes, all while softly grinding against his cock. Every moan and gasp from his lips has you growing wetter. 

You drag your slippery pussy up his cock, both of you completely coated in your arousal. Joel lifts you to hover above his cock. “Need to feel you wrapped around me again. Please, sweet girl.”

You capture the sound of him begging with your lips, snake a hand in between your bodies, and guide the tip of his bare cock inside of yourself. You shudder and whimper at the delicious stretch of him. “Oh god.”

“This pussy,” he coos, and the sound of his weakness at the feel of you has the muscles behind your navel tightening. Your lips find his again as you slowly work yourself down his cock. “That’s my girl, nice and slow.”

You rock and grind, sliding him in further, your body writhing as you take inch by tortuous inch. As your hips finally come into contact with his, you still your movements and relax into the feeling of him at this new angle. Joel is definitely big, not in a scary romance novel kind of way, but bigger and thicker than you’ve been with. “Joel,” you mew, the vowels of his name lasting longer than they should and you tuck your head into his neck. 

“It’s all you, baby girl. Just sit on him if you need to, fuck.” He kisses your shoulder, hands moving to the globes of your ass. “Tell me how it feels.”

“F-full,” you whine into his skin. 

“What else, my sweet girl?”

“You’re so big, J-Joel. I can feel you everywhere. I - I need, oh my god.” You grind your hips forward slightly, the cool metal of his piercing sending a shockwave through your clit and up your spine. “More. I need more.”

“Just take it, baby. I’m yours.” He rasps between kisses along your shoulder and neck. 

You pull back, your face mere inches from him. He’s everywhere all at once and the painful stretch of your cunt around his cock starts to become an intense burning pleasure with each flick of your hips. 

“Suck on my nipples,” you gasp, leaning back slightly. The shiny silver ring in his pelvis presses harder against your clit, and now, not only are you madly in love with Joel Miller, you’re also so fucking addicted that not even a twelve step program could fix you. 

He obeys your wishes, sucking your right nipple into his warm mouth roughly and swirling his tongue as your hips grind back and forth once, twice, three times. He moans against your skin, moving his hands up your body to cup both your breasts. “Harder, please Joel, harder.”

Your movements become less fluid; your clit aches with every brush against his piercing. The muscles behind your navel start to feel like they’re going to snap. He moves to the other nipple, meeting it with his teeth, but it’s still not enough.

“Harder,” you beg.

“Do you need clamps, baby?” Of course this man would know what you need; he’s never not known what you need. 

“Yes, god yes. I need more.”

“Can you reach the top drawer of the nightstand?” You nod, then push his sweaty curls away from his forehead. He raises an eyebrow and you reach into the drawer, pulling out a small set of gold nipple clamps. “Good girl. Now, can you reach my hat at the end of the bed?”

You press your lips into a thin line to stop your smile and nod excitedly. He winks and you turn your upper body the other way and stretch to reach his hat. As soon as you place it on his head you feel the sharp pressure of the clamp on your left nipple. The pain heightens the feeling of him inside of you and a high pitched whine leaves your throat. 

“Fuck, please, Joel. Please.”

As he places the second clamp he says, “You don’t even know what you’re begging for, do you?” 

A mix between a whimper and a whine passes your lips in response and your lashes flutter shut. “That’s what I thought. Just as long as I keep myself deep in this tight little pussy, you’ll be happy. Won’t you?”

The second clamp evens out the pain and sends a wave of adrenaline through your system. You pick up the speed of your hips. His piercing bumps against your clit, the pleasure coursing through your veins mixed with the burning pinch on your nipples is almost all the ingredients you need to fall over the edge. 

“You’re doing so well for me, sweet girl. Wish you could see how good you look right now.” Joel moves his hands back to your ass, pulling you forward in time with the pace you’ve set. 

“I love - Joel, oh my god.” You want to tell him how much you love the feeling of him inside of you, how much you love the words he says and the praise he gives, but you aren’t capable of forming sentences with the way his piercing teases at your clit. All you can do is let your forehead fall to his shoulder, your eyes squeezing tighter. 

“Love what, huh?” He whispers deeply into your ear. “The feeling of my bare cock so deep inside of you that you can feel it in your stomach? Or the way my piercing feels against your swollen clit? Or maybe you love the pain of the clamps on your nipples as you ride me? Huh? Is that what you love, baby?” You make a gasping whining sound of agreement.

“Look at me,” he adds. It takes all of your strength to sit back up and open your eyes. When he comes into focus you’re overcome with desire. He’s so much more than you could ever imagine in his new black cowboy hat, pupils blown wide with passion, and cheeks flushed a light pink. “Good girl, keep your eyes on me. I want to see it in your eyes when you come on my cock.”

 Your hips slow, but you push your clit harder against his pelvis, and you blurt the first thought you have. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Joel.”

A smile tug of his cheek reveals the boyish dimple you love so much. You slide your hands from his shoulders to the short hair at the nape of his neck. You’re close, so very close. “Come with me, I’m so close,” you whimper.

“I know, Freckles. Fuck, I can feel it.” He doesn’t take his eyes off yours, but the flex of his jaw tells you he’s holding back for you. “Squeezin’ me so tight. Fuck, can feel her fluttering, listen to how wet you are.” 

You reach back and grab his wrist, squeezing it gently, “Spank me.”

“Christ, sweet girl.” 

You release his wrist, and without looking away he spanks you hard and you are launched into your orgasm. His face lights up with admiration as you chant a mixture of his name and ‘oh god’. You grind frantically into his piercing, your clit practically vibrating at the attention. 

“That’s it baby. Good, fuck, I’m gonna, good girl. Don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop.” He slaps your ass again and that same familiar pooling of liquid starts to build. 

“More,” you cry and he spanks you again. 

You feel the gush of your cum, and Joel takes over as you’re consumed by pleasure. His strong hands grip your hips, moving you at a slower pace. “There she goes, such a messy little pussy.”

You peel your eyes away from him, looking down at the way his piercing presses against your clit when your bodies meet. “Fill me,” you moan.

“Fuck - oh fuck, sweet girl.” Your orgasm starts to fade and you tug at the hair you can reach.

“Fill me, Joel. I want to feel you leaking out of me for days.” You aren’t sure where this version of yourself has come from. Just weeks ago you wandered around JMKink all wide-eyed and nervous, and now you’re saying words that you never thought you could. 

Joel lets out a mix between a growl and a moan and you feel his cock harden before it jerks inside of you, hot ropes of his cum filling you like you asked. He moans your name, stilling your hips in his hands as his orgasm washes over him. “God, you feel so good.”

The two of you gasp for breath, your head falls back and you close your eyes, trying to slow your heart beat. Joel removes the nipple clamps and you cry out just as he places light kisses along them. “Ouch,” you whimper. 

“I know,” he says, moving to kiss the other one. “Taking them off is the worst part. I’m sorry, sweet girl.”

When he pulls back to look at you again your body goes limp and you fall into his chest, head tucked into the crook of his neck. “Need a minute,” you murmur.

He pulls the blanket from the other side of the bed and wraps it around the two of you. “Good, because I’m not ready to let you go yet.” His lips caress your hairline softly, one hand on your back under the blanket, the other playing with your hair.

I love you.

After a few moments of blissfully content silence you wince at the pinch in your hip. “I gotta get up, I’m sorry.”

He laughs gently into your hair, and pulls back the blanket before helping you slide off his softened cock. You both look at the mess you’ve made on his lap and you let out a mischievous giggle. 

“Don’t even think about it, Freckles. I need nourishment before you take advantage of me again.” He says jokingly.

“Well, I guess this is what I get for fucking around with an old man,” you laugh, flopping down on the bed beside him. 

Joel moves quickly, slipping two thick fingers inside of you easily and you squirm at the feeling. You suck in a huge breath, like you’re about to swim to the bottom of a deep pool. Tears start to burn behind your eyes as overstimulation makes it almost impossible to breathe, nevermind being able to tell him to stop. 

His voice is a gravel filled growl, “That right, little girl? Because from what I can tell, you’re about to beg me to stop, so be careful who you call old.”

Heat flushes your skin, pleasure building, yet when your tired pussy flutters around his strong digits a loud, pained cry fills the room. You’re not willing to admit defeat as you force your lungs to suck in a breath. 

“I’m not.” 

“No?” He pumps his fingers harder against your sensitive g-spot. “Don’t wanna use that safe word?” 

Can’t. Fuck, I might actually die if I come again again. You never imagined yourself debating if you wanted another orgasm. A cold sweat coats your lower back as you arch off the bed, a sob leaving your throat. 

“How’s that feel? Wanna come again?” 

You shake your head and moan in disagreement. 

“You sure? She wants to, I can feel it.” He pumps his fingers forward again. 

“M-mister Miller. No.” As you swallow down the scream that’s inching its way up from your lungs he watches your throat like a starved wolf. 

“Safeword,” he commands. 

“Steg-“ you don’t even say the full word and he’s slipping his fingers out of you with a lewd squelching sound. “Thank you.” 

“Are you okay?” He says softly, his dom mask gone as his eyebrows knit in concern. 

“Yes,” you say with a quiet laugh. “I was close to coming again, but….”

He gives you a thigh lipped smile, “Sore?” 

You nod as he continues, “Food, then shower, then we can come back here,” he says deeply before he slips his two fingers in his mouth, cleaning off the mixture of the two of you. 

I fucking love you, Joel Miller. 

Joel 

The small crack of light in the curtains wakes him. His alarm clock shows 7:18 am; he can’t remember the last time he slept past six am, but he also can’t remember the last time he stayed up until two in the morning. He rolls slowly, careful not to disturb you in the cocoon of blankets you’ve created in the night. The top of your head and one foot is the only thing visible, your slow, quiet breathing filling the room. 

So fucking cute.

He pulls on a pair of black pajama pants and adjusts the curtains to keep the room dark before slipping downstairs. The morning sun reflects off the gold in the marble, basking his kitchen in warm fire light. His eyes glance around the kitchen, a dirty frying pan sits in the sink from the grilled cheese sandwiches he made you both last night, the kitchen stool still pulled out from where you sat. A smile pulls at his cheeks, his cock stirring as he remembers the rest of the evening. 

The two of you ate your sandwiches; all you had on was one of his t-shirts, and he was wearing the pants he’s in now. After you both finished eating, he grunted as he came over to help you off the stool. You made another joke about him being old. Slipping in and out of dom mode is almost too easy around you. Without missing a beat, he made you clean the cum that had leaked out of you off the stool with your tongue, then spanked you until more cum dripped down your legs and onto the floor. He didn’t even have to tell you what to do, all he did was glance at the floor then at you with a raised brow. His sweet girl got down on her hands and knees and cleaned up. He praised you the entire time and then took you upstairs to shower; not that it did much good, because he fucked you from behind the moment the two of you got back into his bed. Joel hasn’t fucked someone back-to-back like that in years, but you have him feeling like he’s in his twenties again. 

He pulls the jar of imported coffee beans from the cupboard and grinds them, reflecting upon how easy it was to just sit with you. As you ate, you both laughed and joked about whatever came to mind. He made fun of you for asking for ketchup to dip your sandwich in, then you poked fun back by eating the sandwich with one pinky up once you realized it wasn’t just processed bread and cheese. 

As he tamps the freshly ground beans into the basket he realizes just how lonely he has been. He’s always been surrounded by people and enjoyed coming home to his quiet solitude of a house, but now? He smiles sadly to himself. This is really going to hurt.

He places the basket in the machine and as it brews he gets your beans in the grinder and then grabs the milk to steam and froth. He adds the milk to his cup and then starts on yours just as he hears a very soft ‘Good Morning’ from behind him. 

He looks over his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his middle, placing a kiss on his bare spine. It shoots right to his heart and he holds it there, desperate to keep this love he’s feeling, love he knows is on a timeline. 

“Good morning, sweet girl. Coffee?”

“Mmm, yes please.”

He rubs at your arms around his stomach. “How does bacon and eggs sound?”

The soft warmth of your cheek rests on his back as he steams your milk, your espresso almost done. “You actually use the kitchen?”

“Used it last night, didn’t I?”

“Yea,” you reply, “but I’ve never seen you have actual food in your fridge. Cleaning it is always on your list, but aside from milk there’s never been anything in it.”

“That’s not entirely true,” he says. 

“You’re right, once there was just a single long stemmed red rose.” The rose he got you for your birthday. 

“So you’re saying you don’t want surprise long stemmed roses?”

You gasp dramatically behind him and then wiggle under his arm. He laughs, adjusting his grip on the milk and coffee cup to pour the milk just right, creating a heart on the top of your latte and then holding it in front of you. He watches the little smile that curves your lips. “Thank you, Joel.”

He kisses your forehead before you both part. His eyes trail from your face, down your body that’s draped in one of his black t-shirts brushing the top of your bare thighs. “Breakfast?”

You nod, wrapping both your hands around your coffee cup and inhaling. “What can I do to help?”

“Nothing. Get that cute little ass on one of those stools,” he spins you and pats at your butt gently, a giggle escaping your throat as you wander around the island to sit. 

Joel gathers what he needs for breakfast, and after a few heartbeats you break the silence. “Can I ask you a question?”

He glances over at you, “We’ve been through this. You don’t need to ask permission, just ask.”

“Well, it’s about the hat.”

“Ah,” he says softly, starting one of the gas burners to heat the cast iron pan for the bacon. “You can ask anything you’d like, baby.”

“I just wasn’t expecting that sort of reaction.”

“That’s not a question,” he says jokingly. 

You let out an amused sound that’s part giggle, part snort. “What’s the history behind the black cowboy hat?” 

He clears his throat, moving around the kitchen the entire time he speaks. “I grew up on a small ranch outside of Austin. My grandparents’ ranch. Me and Tommy lived there with our mom. My grandma gave us both our first cowboy hats; mine was a black Stetson with a black satin liner. I wore that hat all the time. It brought me comfort for whatever reason, or maybe it was confidence in those awkward adolescent years. Whatever it was, it sort of became a part of who I was as a teenager. One night, in my senior year, after winning our baseball state championship I went to a party, with my hat on, of course…that’s, umm, that’s where I met her.”

He watches you take a sip of your coffee, eyes soft. “Tiffany, my…my wife. That’s where I met her. My grandpa always said that I’d feel a tug, like a pull behind my belly button, and it did. When I went to talk to her she took my hat and put it on her head and…I just knew. That hat, well, I wore it for her from then on.”

“Where’s the hat now?” You say, looking shyly up at him. 

He turns back the stove, swallowing the dry lump in his throat and flips the bacon before cracking the eggs in the second pan. His voice is low. “When she passed away it just felt right to send the hat with her. I couldn’t let her go alone.” 

The eggs sizzle as he flips them. “How old were you when that happened?” 

“Young,” he says, then looks back over at you. “About twenty three or twenty four.” 

He scoops two eggs and a few pieces of bacon on each plate and then walks around to the stool beside you. “I’m sorry that happened, Joel.” 

He places a light kiss on your forehead, sliding the plate in front of you. “Me too, baby. Thank you.” 

Joel sits on the stool next to yours but that still isn’t close enough for him. He grabs the leg of your stool and pulls you tight to his side. The moment your shoulder makes contact with his arm he feels more at ease. Talking about Tiffany isn’t so painful anymore. 

“So it’s just been you and your daughter since then? You didn’t want to remarry?” He watched the way your lips purse to blow on your fork full of eggs before he answers. 

“I wasn’t opposed to remarrying. Sarah used to try to set me up with her friends' moms when she was kid. But, I never felt that pull like I did with Tiff. I focused all of my time on Sarah and building my construction firm.“

It feels almost too comfortable to talk to you as he continues between bites. “I just kept waiting for that pull again. Then my career took off; I went from building homes to mansions, and then eventually apartment complexes. I didn’t have time to even look for a partner.” 

“Is that when you got into BDSM?” You ask, nibbling on your bacon. 

“Ya, I met Cap…”

“Cap?” You interrupt, looking at him with wide eyes. “Like the sweet man with the grey hair and kind blue eyes who drives me around?” 

“Yes, same Cap. He taught me almost everything about being a Dom.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “He’s so soft and kind.” 

“Am I not soft and kind?” He says, placing a hand on his chest. You press a kiss to his cheek and he raises an eyebrow at you. “As I was saying, I met Cap through one of the trades we hired to run cable through a large apartment building. Spent a lot of hours with him and he eventually brought up how being a dom might be a good option for me and wouldn’t risk Sarah getting hurt through a break up.” 

“Sarah is older than me, isn’t she?” You put your fork down and look up at him with concern. 

He nods, “She is. Not by much, but she is. However, I recently learned that I was the campus DILF while she was in university.” 

You snort a laugh beside him. 

“She just wants me to be happy. I don’t know what I did right with that kid. She’s a doctor and just got accepted to a surgery fellowship in New York.” 

As he finishes his last few bites, your soft, warm palm traces up and down his bare back slowly. “I’m sure you were, or are, an amazing dad.” 

He smiles over at you as reality slams into him. You’re younger than his daughter. You’re going to want things that he’s already done and is too old to do again. And quite frankly, he doesn’t want to do it again. Biologically he cannot have any more kids, and he’s not looking to adopt. He’s done that part of his life.  

One of his hands wraps around the back of your neck and his mind races as he lowers his face to yours. He’s sure you’re going to go to Berkeley, which will break his heart, but also means he can keep that pesky little secret he’s been keeping from you hidden. You finding out about that will ruin him.

You

Something shifts in Joel’s eyes before he kisses you, his tongue swiping against your lips, asking to let him in. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, as the urge to show him just how much you need him takes over. You spin your body towards him, kissing him back at the pace he’s set. You could sit like this for hours, your lips fused to his, his tongue flicking sweetly against yours. Your hands roam along the muscle-lined skin of his arms, pressing your lips happily to his without any plans to break the kiss first.

After a few minutes, Joel pulls back, cupping your chin, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. “Speaking of university,” he prompts. 

You take a slow deep breath in through your nose, trying to keep your face a neutral mask as all of your thoughts around school and Joel scream in your mind. He squeezes your hand reassuringly, “Come with me.” 

As he leads you towards the stairs to the basement you say, “We should clean up.” 

“Nah,” he starts leading you down the stairs, his voice light, “I have a cleaner coming this week.” 

You jokingly hit his shoulder with a laugh as he walks down the stairs in front of you. The two of you settle into the plush couch. You cozy up into the corner of the sectional, him beside you. He pulls your feet onto his lap and then flips a blanket from the back of the couch over you. 

“It’s gonna be Berkeley, right?” Joel’s voice is excited and curious, not disappointed. For a second you think he might not care in the way you think he does, until your eyes meet his. His eyes tell a whole damn story right now, more honey flecks than onyx shine your direction. They seem sad almost, or longing.  

“Maybe. That was sort of my dream school but I don’t know anymore.” 

His thumbs press into the arches of your feet and after wearing those ridiculous heels last night it feels delicious. “Your phone screen, which, by the way, I’m getting you a new phone. That screen is a hazard, and don’t bother arguing with me. But your Lock Screen is the beach.” 

“I know,” you look down at your hands, picking at the pearly white polish. 

“I want you to follow your dreams, sweet girl.” 

“But that’s the thing, Joel. Becoming a lawyer is the dream. Either way, I will graduate as a lawyer, so…” The words die on your tongue and hang heavy between the two of you.

“Don’t pick based on me.” He says softly. 

You scoff, immediately annoyed by his ego. Is that really what he thinks of you? That some man would come along and change everything you had planned. Didn’t he though? 

You pull your feet from his lap, bending your knees up as if you’re building a wall between the two of you. “I’m not. I’m a grown woman who can, and does, make decisions for herself.” 

“So then what’s the reason for giving up what was always your dream school for a law school here?” 

You feel sick to your stomach. His singing last night, that wasn’t a proclamation of love to you. He was just singing a song that he knows and you almost changed your entire life’s trajectory for him.

No, you remind yourself, these are valid points. Joel or not, it makes sense to stay.  

It doesn’t matter how you justify it to yourself in your mind, the annoyance that anyone would think you’d make a decision this huge for anyone but yourself doesn’t ease. You didn’t even consider your parents when you left for university, so why would he think you’d consider him when you’ve only known him a few weeks? 

You try to keep the edge of frustration out of your voice as you respond. “It’s cheaper, for one. I also have a job that I could do once or twice a week if I stay here. I have a chosen family of friends who support and love me. There’s lots of reasons. And at the end of it all, I come out with a law degree.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, his fingers toying with the hem of the blanket. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to defend yourself or your decisions.” 

“You assumed I’d choose my future based on you.” You say, and it comes out a lot angrier than you intend. You rush an apology, “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” his voice stays soft as he moves to rub the top of your foot under the blanket. You let him pull it back onto his lap, shortly followed by the other foot. “You’re making a big decision and I could see you working through your thoughts in the car last night. I just don’t want you to think you have to figure this out on your own. I’m here for you. I’m sorry, sweet girl. I was trying to let you know I’m here. I should have worded that differently to begin with.” 

“Sorry,” you murmur, looking back down at your hands. You feel about two feet tall all of a sudden. 

“Hey,” he squeezes at your calves and you look back up at him. “You have nothing to be sorry for. C’mere.” 

You slide across the couch and he pulls you close, draping your legs over his and wrapping you in his arms. “I know Berkeley is more expensive, but you’d have more opportunities there, wouldn’t you?” 

You shrug and lean into his touch. “Maybe, but I’d finish top of the class here, I don’t know where I’ll fit there. Plus, my friends. It’s weird, I’ve never been scared to leave somewhere before; not even when I was freshly eighteen and left my parents, but now I am.” 

His strong hands rub along skin, desire beginning to flicker at your core. It’s only further ignited when he speaks again. 

“Those are all very valid reasons and fears, sweet girl. We all feel that way about big change. Your friends will always be there for you, regardless of what state you decide to go to school in. I’ve only known you for a short time, and I can see how much this means to you. They’ve known you a lot longer, I can only imagine how proud of you they must be. You’re an amazing person and an incredibly hard worker. If anyone can do this, it’s you.” 

“I’ll be in debt forever,” you say with a sigh, leaning back so you can see his face. 

“You don’t have to be…”

“No, I’ll accept the phone, albeit begrudgingly, but I will not accept that.” 

“We’ll see about that,” he says with a wink and a laugh as you roll your eyes.

Joel

The rest of the morning was spent laughing and talking. He asked about your first kiss, your favourite song, what you were most proud of so far. He filed away every single answer. 

As the two of you cleaned up from breakfast he said, “So you never saw yourself having kids?” 

“No. I saw myself fighting for others. I think based on my past that I’d be a great mother, just do the opposite of what my parents did, but that never interested me.” 

His fears from earlier started to ease knowing that you didn’t want kids, and your views on marriage were so mature compared to what he usually heard.

He oiled the cast iron as you spoke. “I just need a partner. Someone who is on my side. I’ve been alone almost my entire life, and I can be happy alone. It’s not the company I need - it’s the support. Someone who can shut the world off. You know?” 

He knew the moment he saw you that he could turn you into the perfect little submissive, his perfect submissive. 

“Sounds like you need a partner who knows how to be a Dom,” he says with a wink, eyes roaming over your body in just that thin black t-shirt he gave you. He sees the switch in your eyes, desire blows your pupils wide, darkening your usually sparkling orbs. “Does my sweet girl need something?” 

He watches your thighs squeeze together as you stand beside him. You hum a yes and nod your head. 

“Are you sore?” 

“Yes, Mister Miller. But I still need it.” 

He leans in closely, tracking the shiver that runs up your body as his lips ghost along the shell of your ear. In a deep whispered command he says, “Give me that shirt, and then go wait upstairs for me.” 

He pulls back and watches as your arms cross in front of your body and grab the hem of the soft cotton shirt. Time slows as you reveal your naked body to him, his heart catching in his throat along with his breath. So utterly perfect. 

“Good girl,” he hums, extending his hand for the shirt. “Upstairs, on your hands and knees at the foot of the bed.” 

He watches you the entire way up the stairs. You only glance over your shoulder once, and he knows the wink he sends you is the reassurance you need. Granted, the little smile and the slight skip in your step afterwards were a dead giveaway that you’re excited for whatever he has planned. 

He waits in the kitchen, forcing himself to keep his eye on the digital clock of the microwave. Three minutes, he tells himself. His dick has other plans, throbbing behind his loose, low hanging pajama pants. Wait three minutes, you weak and pathetic little man. 

He palms himself through the fabric to relieve some of the ache, picturing your ass up in the air on the end of his bed. When the three minutes pass, he practically sprints up the stairs until he reaches his bedroom. He takes a breath to compose himself before stepping over the threshold. Looking to his left, you’re exactly how he wanted you. Knees on the edge of the bed, hands planted on the mattress, eyes glued to the fluffy sheets below you. 

“Remind me, sweet girl,” he fights the smile as you startle at his voice, wide eyes looking over your shoulder. He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. “Did you mark off that you’re interested in exploring aspects of anal sex?” 

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You say shyly. 

“Here’s what we are going to do,” he starts to walk towards you, eyes roaming along every inch of you. “Look at the mattress, please.” 

He smiles as you obey, always his good girl. 

“You’re going to stay very still. I am going to tease your beautiful pussy and ass with my tongue and fingers.” He stops right behind you, running his fingertips along the back of your thighs. “I’m going to go slow. I want you to close your eyes and just breathe. Focus on my tongue. Can you do that?” 

“Yes, Mister Miller.” 

“Good girl. Before we start, grab a pillow and put your chest on the bed. I need you to arch your back for me.” He slips his pajama pants off as you crawl forward to grab the pillow and licks his lips as your ass scoots back down the bed before you get into his desired position. 

“So beautiful,” he coos, kneeling on the small bench at the foot of his bed. “I’m going to start by drawing long lines of my tongue from here,” his finger lightly presses on your clit, he collects your arousal as he runs it up the soft folds of your cunt, stopping when he reaches your asshole, “To here”.

“I’m going to do that a few times, and then start applying more and more pressure. Once you start to shake, and you will start, sweet girl, so please, don’t hold back. But once you start to shake, I’m going to swirl my thumb along that tight little ring of muscle while I eat your pussy.” 

You let out a moan, he hasn’t even touched you yet and he can see you growing wetter. “Think you like the idea of that. Already so wet for me.” 

“What else?” You ask with a moan. 

“I’m going to tease your ass with my tongue and fingers until you let me in. And then fuck you with my fingers, all while continuing to suck on your clit until you come for me. Do I have your consent?” 

He can hear the smile on your face as you say, “Yes, Mister Miller.” 

“No, no, baby. I want you to say ‘Yes, Mister Miller, you have my consent to play with my ass’.” 

He sees your cheeks flush crimson, he brings his hands to your waist, holding you firmly as his cock rubs against your thighs. “Y-yes, Mister Miller. You have my consent….”

“You can say it, sweet girl. Come on.” 

“To….”

He leans over you, placing a kiss on your shoulder. “Good girl, keep going.” 

“To play with my ass.” 

He sinks his teeth into the meat of one of your cheeks and then runs his tongue over the sharp pain before he does exactly as he said he was going to. 

You 

Your whimpers of pleasure fill the room as two of Joel’s thick fingers slide easily into your ass. You have no concept of how long he’s been teasing you. Since he took the lube out, you’ve been nothing but a vibrating ball of pleasure. His tongue flicks your clit with perfect precision, his fingers stretching and caressing you at the same time. 

“I wanna come, Mister Miller,” you whine. 

He pulls his face away from your centre. “That right?” 

“Please. It feels so good.” 

“You know you don’t have to ask, sweet girl. You can come as many times as you want.” 

“Need more,” you manage to gasp as he curls his fingers slightly inside of you. 

“What do you need?” 

“Fuck me - fuck me while you do that with your fingers.” 

“‘Manners!” He growls. 

“Please, Mister Miller,” you half whine, half cry. “I need to come. Please.” 

He slips his fingers from you and you whimper in protest. “I know, sweet girl.” 

He urges you to move forward and then you feel the mattress dip as he kneels behind you. The click of the cap of the lube sounds behind you, the cool liquid hitting your ass. The warm tip of his cock slides from your ass to clit, back and forth, spreading your slick along with the lube. You push back into the soft top of his cock every time it teases your ass. 

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” 

“It’s been hours, please, Mister Miller.” 

“That’s a bit dramatic, baby,” he says, focusing his attention on that tight ring of muscle that you’ve never explored before. “It hasn’t even been an hour.“

You push back again, feeling intense pressure. You hiss as the sensation but don’t pull away. “Easy, sweet girl. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

The slippery tip of his cock slides towards your entrance. He pauses, and then as he finally pushes inside of you, his thumb enters you at the same time. You cry out, “Oh my god.”

The usual pinch of the stretch of him filling you isn’t there this time. You don’t need to adjust to his size, you just need him to fuck you.

“Harder, Mister Miller.” 

He obliges, keeping his thumb firmly inside of you as he slides his hips back and thrusts forward. He repeats this motion, setting a quick pace, his hips slamming against your ass over and over. You bury your face into the pillow and scream; deja vu washes over you. The darkness, the way his cock kisses your g-spot, the heat of his body behind you. This is the recurring dream you used to have about Joel, and it’s so much better in real life. 

“Play with your pretty clit, sweet girl. Wanna feel you.” 

You bring your hand to your clit. You’re so wet that your fingers easily slip along your most sensitive part. You rub fast, tight circles, moaning and somehow arching your back even further. “Atta girl. Make yourself come for me.” 

Your orgasm slams through you and you scream his preferred dom name into the pillow. Your entire body is vibrating, your pussy clenches hard around his cock. You feel him growing harder before he’s calling your name along with praise and then spills inside of you. 

His forehead meets your back, the sweat of his forehead mixing with your own as you both try to catch your breath. Your heart races. I love you. 

Joel

When his alarm goes off Monday morning, it’s the first time in a long time that he’s not looking forward to work. He spent the better part of his weekend with you. The rest of your Saturday was spent in a bubble bath before ordering take out and watching movies. He reluctantly dropped you off at home on Sunday morning in a pair of his sweatpants, a hoodie and wool socks. Even while carrying your dress and heels and doing a proverbial walk of shame, you were undeniably gorgeous. 

Now, he sits in his office, the heat of the afternoon spring sun causing the air conditioner to whirl. In the past few weeks, his feelings towards being in a relationship has mirrored the weather. When he met you in February, he was cold and isolated towards the idea, but now just weeks later as March turns to April, he’s warm and soft towards it, opening up to someone when he didn’t think he ever would. He opens a brown folder, a proposal for a new building that JMConstriction is going to take on. Tommy has already done the real work; at this point, Joel is just the figurehead for the construction side. He grabs his pen, looping a J and an M neatly. 

He places his glass on the table and pinches the bridge of his nose. He knows he should have read that before signing, if only he could focus on the words. Somehow the letters on the page transformed into you. Smiling as the movie played, laughing as the two of you tried to toss popcorn across the couch and into the other person's mouth. 

He’s all in, for as long as you’ll let him. He woke up Sunday morning to his cock in your mouth. You whispered asking if it was ok and after his hum of approval he watched your lips slide up and down his shaft. Simply put, he is mesmerized by you. He stopped you before he came, pulling you onto your side, your back against his front and slipped inside of you. He made you come three times before he let himself fall over the edge. 

As he held you, you confirmed that you were staying here for law school. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes. For lots of reasons. But yes, I’m happy. I don’t think I’ve ever been happy. I’m staying here.”

Guilt and excitement swirled in his stomach at your decision. He has to tell you what he did. He should tell you regardless of your decision, but it’s going to be so much harder now. He picks up his phone and texts you. 

Joel: Hi, sweet girl. Before we celebrate at the club on Tuesday, can I take you out for dinner? 

You: I would love that, Mister Miller. But this super rich man has me scheduled to clean his house from 12-4, so what time are you thinking? 

Joel: Get ready at my place, Freckles. We’ll have a drink and then go for dinner, then I’m going to teach you all about the St. Andrew’s Cross.  

He wants you to stay. More than wants, he needs you to stay. The thought of you leaving now makes him feel like his lungs are in a vice grip. Wrong, Joel. That vice grip is actually that thing you did. You know this is going to hurt her, he scolds himself loudly. The imaginary iron fist squeezes tighter and he fights to suck in a full breath. 

He has to tell you. He will tell you. At dinner tomorrow night, he will explain everything from the beginning. You can’t find out any other way or you’ll likely never forgive him. His heart starts to deflate at the thought of not being able to wake up beside you again; seeing you in a cocoon of down-filled sheets, just the top of your head and one foot giving away your identity. 

He stands from his desk and walks towards his office door, clicking the lock and resting his forehead against the wood. He closes his eyes, resting one hand on his chest. I can’t lose her. 

[crippleprophet]

let me open by saying I Know How This Sounds (fem whose undergraduate chemistry professor recommended ze take turmeric to cure zyr arthritis, etc) so no hard feelings if you keep scrolling, but hopefully folks who know me know i'm speaking honestly about my experiences, even if those don't end up being the same for other people. so!

2 Tbsp of a common kitchen spice is doing as much or more to manage my ME/CFS as any of my meds or self-medicating drugs

@lakeeffectbitch outlines a way of trying this with a control in their reddit post (link); i just went directly to the one they thought might work so i'll put my experiences & the science/theory behind this under a cut for folks who want to avoid potential placebo effect :)

i'll get more specific about this in the "spoilers" but please be aware, especially folks with diabetes or other blood sugar conditions, that this substance may cause a blood sugar drop. it's less likely at this dose but probably keep a sugary snack on hand just in case

if you experience post-exertional malaise & want to try this but don't have spare money to spend on spices feel free to dm me & i'll see if i can help!

my experience:

i took 2 Tbsp ground sumac mixed with warm water on February 11. i tried taking it with a straw first because that's what my colonoscopy prep had said would make that go down easier but because the sumac particles were so big they didn't want to remain suspended & trying to get them in the straw was difficult, which then made it harder to swallow without, yknow, noticing that you're slurping down sediment

what worked better was getting the powder wet, putting a big clump of it on my tongue, then swallowing it with water like a pill

within about half an hour of taking the sumac it was like my fatigue just faded around me where i stood. it dissolved to the background & when i thought "oh i want to do this" or "i should do that" suddenly i found myself just doing it. i had spent the past week at least bedridden except for the bathroom, & though i took the sumac on a better day, i'd been planning to return to bed with a snack after taking it.

instead, i made myself lunch, and i sat on the couch to eat it. all of this was without taking an edible that day; usually i've gotta take at least 25mg delta 8 + 25mg cbd to even consider sitting on the couch. also, it was storming.

from my write-up the day of: "everything felt very sharp & clear & lucid." i washed the dishes from my lunch. all of these activities were about 2 hours, & at that point i emphatically needed a nap. waking up felt like after taking a muscle relaxer & sleeping: my muscles were more relaxed, & my whole body felt like it'd gotten a bit of a break

i've taken sumac at least 8 times since then on at least 5 different days (this time by modifying this sumac tart recipe to include a lot of sumac powder in the crust, which has been much more enjoyable than the Glass O' Sediment lmao) & adjusting for factors like weather, the effect has been comparable every time:

i watched Inception on the couch with my husband, & understood when she explained things to me

i watched leverage on the couch all day when it was below freezing

i worked a bit on fanfics i've barely been able to touch in a year

i "meal prepped" measuring spices, gathering ingredients, & soaking beans to make beans & rice in the instant pot later that day. i literally can't remember the last time i was able to use my instant pot, after thinking about it i think it was when i made palak paneer last summer, but that was a one-off special occasion thing, i've used it maybe 3 other times since developing ME

i wrote this post

the science:

okay a lot of this shit was over my head before i developed ME so i'm gonna be summarizing at my level lol, look to @lakeeffectbitch for a higher-level analysis

but what i do know! (all images from "The malic acid inhibiting inflammation in ankylosing spondylitis by interfering M1 macrophage polarization" by Ji et al., January 2025)

sumac contains high levels of malic acid, which is found in certain fruits (apples, peaches, etc)

the drugs.com page classifies malic acid as an inactive ingredient, so there are no known drug interactions

mice with ankylosing spondylitis had lower levels of peripheral malic acid than control mice

ID: bar graph showing mice with AS had about 0.03 micromoles per milliliter of peripheral malic acid, compared to the control mice level of over 0.2 micromoles per milliliter. the difference is labeled significant via asterisks. end ID

mice with higher malic acid concentrations had lower ESR and CRP (inflammation markers)

ID: two graphs showing lines with a downward slope. the top graph, ESR versus malic acid concentration, is labeled: r=-0.6802, 95% confidence interval =-0.8843 – -0.2578, p=-0.0053. the graph shows ESR, an inflammation marker, decreasing as malic acid concentration increases. the bottom graph, CRP versus malic acid concentration, is labeled: r=-0.6068, 95% confidence interval =-0.8537 – -0.1371, p=-0.0165. the graph shows CRP, an inflammation marker, decreasing as malic acid concentration increases. end ID

mice treated with malic acid had lower levels of TNF-alpha than the mice with untreated ankylosing spondylitis. humira & similar biologics that treat autoimmune diseases are TNF-alpha blockers

ID: a bar graph of relative mRNA expression of TNF-alpha. M0, the control mice, has a relative expression of 1. M1, the mice with ankylosing spondylitis that did not receive treatment, has a relative expression of slightly less than 4.5. M1+MA, the mice with ankylosing spondylitis who received the malic acid treatment, has a relative expression slightly less than 3. this indicates that the mice treated with malic acid had lower expression of TNF-alpha than the untreated mice. asterisks between M0 and M1 and between M1 and M1+MA indicate significance. end ID

the mitochondrial function of M2 macrophages in mice treated with malic acid "was significantly enhanced"

analysis of the mice's spinal tissue blew my fucking socks off. trying not to jump to conclusions & i know journal articles are full of errors but that looks potentially disease-modifying.

ID: a 5x3 presentation of samples of mouse spinal tissue. the control mice, which are healthy, have thick, undamaged, glowing tissue. the mice with ankylosing spondylitis have thin, curved, cracked-looking tissue. the mice treated with celecoxib, a common prescription NSAID for arthritis, appear very similar to the untreated mice. the mice treated with 250mg/kg of malic acid per day have tissue in between the untreated and healthy appearances; the tissue is "glowing" like the healthy tissue but still narrower and curved, although less so than the untreated tissue. the mice treated with 500mg/kg of malic acid per day have tissue which looks even closer to the healthy appearance, with less curvature than the other treatment groups. end ID

since i started drafting this post i've started taking these malic acid supplements from Nature's Life – the full dose made me feel weird including some heartburn so i cut the capsules & take roughly 2/3 – 3/4 of it at a time (i drop the rest into a spare pill jar to make more doses from). it's been similarly effective for me

please be aware that the supplement instructions say to only take it once a day, i haven't had any issues but everybody is different & this avenue is definitely under-researched! (the mice were given 250mg/kg per day which for me would be like 27 grams but i am not a mouse lol)

[goldfades]

FLIPPED──RAFE CAMERON

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

for this request, for my baby jojo! @wanderlusturous

─ summary | rafe is completely devoted to his pregnant wife, spoiling her endlessly and preparing for the arrival of their baby girl, who becomes the center of his world. after a life of feeling lost and disconnected, rafe finally finds purpose in his new family, vowing to protect and love them unconditionally.

─ pairing | rafe cameron x wife!reader

─ warnings | such a sweet, domestic bliss fic! rafe spoiling tf outta reader, rafe being a girl dad, mentions of toxic family, but other than that it's just so sweet.

─ ev's notes | the chokehold that gif has on me is... insane. also wheezie needs to be included more in fics like... shes so awesome (ik she hasnt done anything but thats kinda the point) ALSOOOO I NEED MORE DOMESTIC RAFE LIKEEEE, PLS SEND ME REQUESTS. i might do a part 2 for this fic cause it's so heartwarming i cannot

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

You’re lounging on the couch, wrapped in the softest cashmere blanket Rafe could find, a far cry from the one you had before. That one had been comfortable too, but Rafe never thought it was enough for you, not when his princess deserved the best. The soft hum of the air conditioner fills the house, the only sound in the otherwise still afternoon, while your fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on your growing belly.

Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the room, and you sink further into the cushions, feeling the quiet luxury that has come to define your life since you met Rafe. He’s out right now, picking up God knows what — probably more baby things, even though you already have a mountain of stuff piled high in the nursery.

He never does anything halfway. Every stroller, every onesie, every diaper cream has to be top-of-the-line, the best that money can buy. He doesn’t just spoil you, he suffocates you with care, but in the softest, sweetest way possible, so you don’t even mind. No, you love it, revel in it, feeling like you’ve been plucked straight out of one life and placed into another, where all you have to do is exist and be adored.

The front door clicks open, and you can feel his presence before you even see him. He’s always like that, larger than life even when he’s trying to be quiet. You sit up a little, trying to hide the way you’ve been lazily sprawled out, but he’s already at your side, his hands gently urging you back down.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your forehead. His eyes flicker to your belly, then back to you, that familiar mixture of awe and protectiveness gleaming in his gaze. "I've got everything handled. You just need to rest."

You open your mouth to protest, to tell him that you could've gotten up, could’ve helped him with the bags, but he’s already shaking his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if he can read your thoughts before you even say a word.

"Not a chance." He sets the bags down, filled to the brim with things you know you'll never touch, because he’ll do everything for you. “You’re not lifting a finger. Not while I’m around.”

His voice, low and firm, sends a shiver down your spine, the kind of reassurance that only Rafe can offer. He crouches down beside the couch, running his hands over your legs, making sure you’re comfortable—like he always does. His touch is possessive, protective, the kind that says without words, you’re mine to take care of.

You let out a soft sigh, sinking back against the plush cushions as his hand glides up to rest gently on your belly, almost like a reflex now. You’ve noticed that since you started showing, his hands always find their way there. Like he has to be close, to make sure everything’s okay. He’s obsessed, really—your safety, your comfort, your every need. It’s like a switch flipped the moment he found out about the baby, and he hasn’t let you out of his sight since.

“Everything’s fine, Rafe,” you say softly, trying to reassure him, but the way his brow furrows ever so slightly tells you he doesn’t quite believe you. He’s always worrying.

“I know,” he replies, but there’s a tension in his voice, the kind that tells you he’s already thinking five steps ahead—about the doctor’s appointments, the vitamins, the nursery. He leans in, kissing the top of your head as his other hand gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “But you’re carrying our baby. I’m not taking any chances.”

You smile at his overprotectiveness. It used to overwhelm you at first, this all-consuming devotion, but now? Now it’s like second nature, the way he hovers, always making sure you’re not doing too much, that you’re not straining yourself. He’s like a human safety net, never more than a few feet away, always anticipating what you might need before you even know it yourself.

He stands and starts unpacking the bags he brought in—high-end baby gear, of course. Another designer bassinet, this one with extra features that make it look more like a spaceship than something an infant should sleep in. You watch him move around the room with purpose, his movements fluid and sure, as if orchestrating a plan only he’s privy to. He barely spares you a glance, but you know he’s hyper-aware of your presence, always keeping you in his peripheral vision.

“You didn’t have to get all this,” you murmur, though you already know the answer. You say it more out of habit now, like you need to put up some token resistance to the endless stream of gifts and gadgets.

“I know, but I wanted to,” he says without looking up, his tone casual, but you can hear the edge of finality in it. It’s the same way he talks about everything when it comes to you—like there’s no room for negotiation. “Only the best for you and the baby. You deserve it.”

He sets down the bassinet and moves back to you, taking a seat on the edge of the couch, his hand immediately finding yours. He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, and you lean into him, letting yourself relax in the comfort of his presence. For all his intensity, there’s something so soothing about him when he’s like this—calm, focused, entirely devoted to making sure you’re taken care of.

“Rafe, really… I don’t need all this. I just—” You hesitate, biting your lip. You want to say that all you really need is him, that he’s already more than enough. But before you can finish, his lips brush against your temple, silencing your thoughts.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got everything.” His voice is gentle, but there’s an unshakable confidence behind it, the kind that makes you believe, even for a moment, that the world outside doesn’t exist. That as long as you’re in his orbit, nothing can touch you.

You glance over at the bassinet, the sleek, modern design standing out starkly against the warmth of the room. It’s absurd, really, how much Rafe is willing to spend, how nothing seems too extravagant when it comes to you. But that’s just him—lavish, obsessive, determined to give you a life where you never have to want for anything. And despite how overwhelming it can be sometimes, you can’t deny how intoxicating it is to be the center of someone’s universe like this.

“You think you’ll ever let me out of this house again?” you tease, half-joking, half-serious. He hasn’t exactly been keen on you going anywhere without him lately. Even the grocery store is off-limits unless he’s there to push the cart and carry the bags.

Rafe chuckles softly, but there’s a protective gleam in his eye. “Not until the baby’s here. And even then, only if I’m with you.” He’s only half-joking, and you both know it. The idea of you out in the world, vulnerable, without him by your side—it’s something he can’t stand.

You roll your eyes playfully, but the warmth that spreads through your chest is undeniable. It’s not like you want to go anywhere without him. Not really. The truth is, you’ve gotten used to this, the way he dotes on you, the way he watches over you like you’re the most precious thing in his life. It’s addictive, being adored like this.

“Fine, fine,” you say with a mock sigh of defeat, settling back against the pillows. “I guess I’ll just have to get used to being spoiled.”

Rafe’s smile widens, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “Good,” he says, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time, lingering. “Cause that’s not changing anytime soon.”

───

The moment he found he was having a girl, his world flipped upside down in the best way possible. The baby shower was small and private, only inviting your close friends and family. And for Rafe, he only invited Wheezie. He doesn't really have family or friends he'd want to be around—he only needs you, really.

Rafe never really had a family, not until he met you. Sarah was... well, Sarah. She used to be a part of his life, but they were worlds apart now, and Rafe had long since stopped trying to bridge the gap between them. She had her own life, her own people, and it didn’t overlap with his anymore. Rafe had always felt like an outsider in his own family, never really fitting in, never living up to what was expected of him. His father was distant, his mother gone, and his siblings—well, they weren’t exactly close.

But you? You were different. From the moment he met you, something shifted. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had something solid, something real. You gave him a reason to try, a reason to build something better than what he grew up with. He didn’t just want a family—he wanted your family. One that wasn’t broken or full of secrets and betrayals, but one where he could be the man he’d always hoped to be.

The moment he found out you were having a girl, everything inside him shifted. He wasn’t just Rafe Cameron anymore. He was going to be a father—a girl dad. The idea scared him at first, the weight of it hitting him harder than anything ever had. He wanted to be perfect for her, for both of you. He wanted to give his daughter everything he never had growing up: stability, love, safety. Things he never knew he craved until now.

The baby shower was intimate, just the way you liked it. Soft pastels draped the room, and delicate decorations hung from the ceiling, a far cry from the over-the-top events Kooks were known for. But that wasn’t you. And that’s why Rafe loved you. You made everything feel simple, real, stripping away the excess that had always suffocated him growing up.

Wheezie was there, of course, quiet and awkward as ever, but Rafe didn’t care. She was the only family he had left that mattered, the only one who hadn’t looked at him like he was too far gone, beyond saving. She wasn’t like Sarah, who had washed her hands of him long ago, or Ward, who saw him as nothing more than a disappointment.

As you sat in the corner, surrounded by a small group of friends, Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were glowing—literally glowing, your skin radiant, your hands instinctively resting on your belly. You were laughing at something Wheezie said, but all he could think about was how surreal this all was. How he’d gotten here. From the chaos of his old life to this—a quiet, perfect moment.

Rafe didn’t need anyone else, not really. His friends? They were more like shadows of a life he’d left behind. Toxic, empty relationships that had never filled the void. But with you? He felt whole. He didn’t need the Outer Banks, the parties, the fake smiles and empty promises. All he needed was sitting right in front of him—his future, his family.

You caught his eye from across the room and smiled, and just like that, the world shrank down to just the two of you. It always did. Everything else faded away when you were around. He crossed the room, ignoring the small talk and the laughter, his focus entirely on you.

“Hey, princess,” he murmured, kneeling beside your chair, one hand instantly finding your belly like it always did. He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before leaning his head against it, closing his eyes for just a second to ground himself in the moment. “You good? Need anything?”

You shook your head, resting your hand on top of his. “I’m fine, Rafe. You don’t need to keep checking on me every five minutes.”

He huffed out a laugh, but there was no humor in it, just a soft kind of affection. “Can’t help it,” he said quietly, opening his eyes to look up at you. “I’ve gotta make sure my girls are okay.”

Your heart melted at that, at the way his entire face softened whenever he talked about you and the baby. Rafe Cameron—the guy everyone thought was a lost cause, a wreck waiting to happen—was now the most devoted man you’d ever met. He wasn’t perfect, far from it. But he tried—tried so damn hard for you.

“Everything’s perfect,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand. “And you’re spoiling me too much. Again.”

A mischievous grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Not possible. I’ll spoil you both for the rest of my life if I have to.”

You laughed, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “You already are.”

He looked up at you, his eyes full of something soft, something vulnerable. “You know… I never thought I’d have this. A family. Not like this.”

You reached out, gently cupping his face in your hand, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “Well, now you do. And you’re going to be a great dad, Rafe.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes flickering with emotions he didn’t quite know how to put into words. But then he nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, as if he were afraid to let go.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice thick with something unspoken. “I guess I do.”

And when his baby girl finally came, his world cracked open in ways he never thought possible. Everything changed in an instant—the noise of the hospital, the rush of doctors, the sterile white walls—all of it faded into the background the moment he saw her. Tiny, fragile, perfect. His heart seemed to stop and race at the same time as the nurse handed her to him, her soft whimpers breaking through the silence like a delicate melody.

Rafe had never known he could love something this much. Not until he was holding his daughter in his arms, her little fingers curling instinctively around his thumb, her eyes barely opening to reveal the softest hint of blue. In that moment, every bad decision he’d ever made, every reckless move, every mistake—it all faded away. Nothing mattered anymore except this.

She was his.

His chest felt tight, his throat constricting as he tried to wrap his head around it all. The weight of responsibility hit him like a wave, but it wasn’t fear that came with it. It was a sense of purpose, a deep, unshakable need to protect her, to give her everything. To never let her feel the kind of emptiness he’d grown up with.

You were lying in the bed, exhausted but glowing, watching him with a tired but content smile. Rafe caught your gaze and smiled back, tears threatening to spill over as he gently cradled your daughter against his chest, her tiny body fitting perfectly in the crook of his arm.

“She’s so small,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, barely above a breath. He felt like he was holding the most precious thing in the world, something so delicate he was terrified of breaking her. But at the same time, he didn’t want to let her go. Ever.

“She’s perfect,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of warmth. “She’s ours.”

Rafe swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were quickly clouding his vision. His thumb gently brushed over the soft tufts of hair on his daughter’s head, his heart swelling with so much love it almost hurt.

“She’s more than perfect,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I—I don’t even know what to say.”

You smiled gently, reaching out for his hand. “You don’t have to say anything. You’re doing it, Rafe. You’re already her father.”

The words hit him like a punch to the chest. He’d never been sure if he’d be good enough for this, good enough for you, for the family you’d built together. But looking at his daughter, her tiny face so serene in his arms, he knew he’d never stop trying. He’d move mountains, tear down the sky, do anything and everything to keep her safe.

Rafe stood there for what felt like hours, rocking her gently as you dozed off, exhausted from labor. He couldn’t take his eyes off his daughter, couldn’t believe she was real. She had your nose, your delicate features, and he could already see hints of his own wild streak in her.

It terrified him, and yet it filled him with a pride he couldn’t put into words.

As she shifted slightly in his arms, letting out the tiniest yawn, Rafe felt his entire world center itself around her. His priorities had changed in an instant, everything he’d once thought was important—money, power, even his own survival—seemed so insignificant now. The only thing that mattered was the little girl sleeping soundly against his chest.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering as he whispered, “I’m never letting you go. I promise.”

And in that moment, he meant it. Every word.

He didn’t need anything else—no approval from his family, no redemption from his past. He had you, and now he had her. His little family. A family that was his to protect, his to love, his to spoil with every fiber of his being.

Rafe knew he’d made mistakes—plenty of them—but as he held his daughter close, he made a silent vow to her. He’d be better. He’d always be better for her.

Because now, his world wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about her, about you. And for the first time in his life, he had something worth fighting for that didn’t come with strings attached or conditions. It was just love. Pure, overwhelming, unconditional love.

And Rafe Cameron was never going to let that go.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[obsessiveloveistheonlylove]

Hey, I've read your last yandere Bruce, neglected fam reader and it gave me an idea. What if instead of the reader wasting all that money or luxury, she saved most of it in a closed account and when Bruce bought the apartment she made him sign it in her name as a plan to when the right time comes or if she needs to, she will sell the apartment and use all the money she saved to leave to start over in another country. Imagine Bruce finding out when she reaches the point where she put her apartment for sale, or better, actually selling it to a friend or someone they know and actually leaving.

Yan!batfam with neglected!sister reader leaving the state/country

Anon your mind is fucking golden! I also thought of the reader having the apartment signed in her name just because Bruce wanted her to feel comfortable but I love the layers this adds.

Hopefully these couple of hcs are good enough while I work on pt 2. Also if anyone else has any questions about any other scenarios or certain characters feel free to send them in I'll try to respond whenever I have time and I write for any gender reader.

Word count ; 1073

Unedited

___

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ bruce is not happy with this turn of events at all. He wasn't expecting nor did he sense that this was going to happen, you didn't post about it or even reference moving on any of your social media apps which he lovingly stalks watches over to make sure you are content with your life and also because he likes seeing you happy and enjoying all the things he got you. And it hurts him a little that you didn't even say something to him … he knows you don't owe him that, not when your relationship is still in a fragile state but he's trying.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ he only figures out after someone in the fam(most likely dick) broke in dropped by your apartment and likely scared one of your friends shitless.. obviously both parties are shocked but your friend more so as they don't know who the hell just broke into their house, dick is shocked when this random person claims that he's trespassing in their home. After that awkward situation dick immediately reports back to Bruce about this over the comms and with some digging from Tim they're able to find out that you had sold the house and the exact date that you had, approximately a month ago. That sends off alarm bells for the entire batfam, where are you now?! It takes an hour or so of searching to find out exactly where you moved and when they do they can't decide what to do with the information.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Alfred is the voice of reason in this family, he discourages the batboys from immediately doing everything in their power to bring you home, he advocated for you to live wherever you choose and says that it's your life and that the family cannot choose for you. Alfred loves you dearly you are basically his child he views you the way he views Bruce. He may be a yandere but he's a selfless one he truly only has your best interest in mind. His words are like a slap of reality for some of the Batfam mainly Tim, Steph and Jason all three of then become a lot more hesitant to go through with their plans to bring you home on the other hand dick, bruce, and damian are adamant that you aren't safe unless they can be nearby.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Nobody can come to a decision the night they find out and so they decide to sleep on it until they can come to an agreement the manor will be tense for a week or two at most before they spring into action, they will all eventually cave to their selfish needs even if some feel guilty for doing it. Alfred will sigh disappointedly but ultimately allow them to go through with their plans he only hopes you can forgive him for not doing more

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ you on the other hand will be left unaware to all that's going down you'd gotten a new phone and lived in a whole new state maybe even country! They couldn't bother you here. You were happier than you have been for a long time. Even if you missed your old friends you still tried to keep in touch over the phone.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ as for why you did this? It's likely the other batboys' faults, Bruce is annoying but he's not nearly as demanding of your time as the others, namely dick. Dick is insanely clingy once you're on his radar and he becomes aware of how much his neglect affected you mentally. The guilt for him was all consuming when he found out how much he hurt you and that he neglected you for quite literally no reason, you just didn't matter to him at the time. the thought now makes him sick, of course you matter, what the hell was his problem!! Dick would have constantly broke your boundaries by hugging and touching and cuddling you he feels like he needs to make it up to you by being a good big brother, even if that's not what you need anymore after all it's far too late you're already an adult but he refuses to see it that way you're still his baby sister. He inserts himself into your life constantly and even if he'll pay for things he'll only do so under the circumstances that the money be spent ‘together’ like sure he'll take you to that fancy restaurant but it's going to be made into a sister-brother bonding moment, like yeah he'll let you use his card to go shopping but only if he's going with you. Even if you don't use him for money he will still find ways to insert himself into your life. He's overwhelmingly intense and his behavior mixed with the other overbearing members in the batfam plus the added overwhelming feelings of having people who ignored you all your life suddenly want your time and attention is probably why you felt like you had to leave.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ you won't be gone for more than a month or two before your dragged back to Gotham and back to your family, only this time you've got a metaphorical collar around your neck as now you're likely brought back to the manor always under surveillance and on the off chance you're still allowed to own your own apartment again just know it will be heavily bugged along with your phone courtesy of Tim even if he feels bad about invading your privacy he knows they need to see your texts to make sure you're not planning to leave Gotham again. Oh and now the bat members will each take turn patrolling your house and following you from the shadows to make sure you're safe.

___

All in all I'd say you'll have your fun for a little while but ultimately you'll just drive them deeper in their obsession and they will likely kidnap and bring you home.

[dj-of-the-coven]

How to Burn Your Own CDs - a guide for Windows users

Are you--yes, you!--tired of paying money to stupid shit like spotify for your music? Do you hate the way that the music industry takes almost all the profit that bands make through streaming and leaves them with pennies? Have you ever wanted to fire up that old CD-Radio in the corner of your bedroom, only to be stopped because all you have on CD is Weezer's blue album and a copy of Kidz Bop 16 that you don't remember buying? Well this guide just might be for you!

Materials you'll need:

A computer. Can't do it without this one.

A CD drive. It can be internal or external, but you'll need one either way. You can find them at Office Depot for fairly cheap and I've heard that some Walmarts carry them.

A pack of CD-Rs. CD-Rs, or CD Recordables, come in packs of 20, 50, or 100. A proper 100-pack should cost you no more than $30, so unless there's some special shortage in your area, don't buy from anywhere selling them at a markup. CD blanks are literally 50c a piece.

CD cases. Sold wherever CD-Rs are, but you can also find these at thrift stores pretty easily.

A sharpie or some kind of permanent marker

Software you'll need:

Jdownloader. You can acquire mp3s through Bandcamp if you're dedicated to righteousness, but for everyone else, install jdownloader or some other kind of open-source download program. I will be proceeding as if you have jdownloader available.

Windows media player. This should open automatically when you insert a CD-R into your CD drive.

Fre:ac audio converter. This is only for the occasion that you encounter OPUS or mp4a files that cannot be interpreted by your CD player.

Note: If you're very determined not to download software onto your computer, you can use free youtube downloaders and audio converters, but these are subject to viruses and other issues such as download speed. I will be proceeding as if you have the programs I listed.

The process:

Decide what you want to burn--anything goes, but keep in mind the time limit on your CD-Rs. Most will record 90 minutes or less.

Open jdownloader, switch to the linkgrabber tab, then paste youtube links in any order until you have all the music you want. I'd personally recommend doing it song-by-song instead of a full album stream, because a massive file will require a lot of work to separate back into searchable tracks.

De-select all files except audio on the right-hand side options menu.

Make a folder inside the music folder of your laptop and label it with the name of your mix CD.

In the properties tab of each song on jdownloader, change the destination folder to the folder you've just created.

Hit "start all downloads".

Once finished, open each folder. If everything is an .mp3 or a .wav, skip the next 2 steps.

Open Fre:ac audio converter to convert all audio files that aren't .mp3 or .wav into .mp3 or .wav.

Drop the converted files next to the unconverted files in your folder. If you wish, you can delete the originals to make the folder easier to browse.

Put your blank CD-R into the CD drive. If external, plug in your CD drive first or the tray will refuse to open.

Windows media player will open automatically. On the right-hand side, you will see the tracklist of your CD-R (which should be blank). On the left, you will see the audio that your computer is able to find in the music folder. Put your selected tracks IN ORDER onto the tracklist.

Listen to the beginning and ending of each track to make sure there isn't a significant time gap. This also prevents accidentally burning a youtuber's stupid outro if you missed it before.

When satisfied, hit "start burn".

On an external drive, the CD tray will open upon completion. You can reinsert it to ensure that the burning went smoothly.

Once satisfied, remove the CD from your drive. With your sharpie or permanent marker, write the name of the album on the front, then store safely inside a CD case.

you did it👍

Ask me if you run into any issues.

Legal disclaimer: this guide is purely for educational purposes and I do not admit to or take responsibility for any piracy committed using the instructions given.

Illegal disclaimer: cops suck my dick