#I hope anyone who's struggling can eventually feel better too

[heartshattering]

Tonight ended up being such a high anxiety night. I still haven't slept yet but hopefully I will soon. I think I figured out some of what I've been doing wrong and what I need to remind myself of. I'll dump my thoughts under the cut.

First, I know this is foolish but I tried to force myself to finish a piece of media that was triggering me. I had already read parts of it before and knew the whole story including the ending but I wanted to have it 100% completed for my list. Eventually I reached a point where I couldn't keep reading, and stopped. And that's okay. I had to drop another thing I was reading prior to that, because it was boring (so I picked up the triggering story because at least it was less boring so I thought I'd be able to finish it). I need to stop forcing myself to do things I don't really want to do, there's no point, I just have a perfectionist nature and like when I can say I finished something completely but it's not always worth it.

Next is that I've been freaking myself out, even when I'm successful at something. Because then my next thought is "Well how long can I keep this up?" and my mind already starts racing to the next hour or the next day. And then I give myself panic attacks from overthinking and putting myself in catastrophic situations that aren't fucking real (or even realistic to begin with). It's so damn ridiculous, I'm already setting myself up for failure before it can even happen. Yeah, I need to stop that, too.

I've noticed myself feeling super hopeless and I honestly do need to bring back some of my hopefulness. It really does feel terrible to just rot. It's only comforting for so long before it becomes depressing as fuck and makes me feel like I've undone a lot of my progress. (I know progress can't be undone, but still) I'm disgusted at myself for thinking it was "okay". Maybe I did need to experience it for a while just to get it out of my system and because I was going through really high stress but I feel so ashamed of how I hurt myself towards the end of March. I had a lot of 'recovery win' days, went back to feeling like a failure, but instead of picking myself up again, I actually started to treat myself even worse than before and let my habits get really bad. I want to avoid doing that again.

I read somewhere that you can't just collect wisdom, you have to use it too, so I need to get serious about using the coping skills I've learned about. And again, NOT let myself fall back into that fucking awful misery pit I was stuck in. I am trying to take things a little at a time. I have some positive phrases I repeat to myself when I feel overwhelmed. I keep trying to remember other times I've pulled myself out of spirals like this before. I'm really feeling the shittiness of it all, it sucks, I would do anything not to feel this fucking low right now. I really can't express how upset I am at myself for just having just given up so pathetically.

I need to get back on track with an endless list of things. I've been sleeping during the day so I haven't been able to get my dad to pick my meds up for me, and I'm going through another fucking IBS flare-up. I've been neglecting myself... you know, that whole stupid thing where someone is feeling better so they think they don't need their meds anymore, but it was their meds making them feel better. Yeah, I did that. And my dad even asked me about my meds and I was like "It's okay, I haven't been having flare-ups" and "It's not a life or death medication, I'm fine". GODDDD I'm so irresponsible with myself but anyway. I should be getting my meds today hopefully.

I also need to cut down on one med that worsens my IBS symptoms. (This one is okay to cut down on, because I have alternatives I can take that won't give me the IBS symptoms, and I went for weeks last month not taking this one so I really don't need it) And I also have to stop taking meds on an empty stomach without even any coffee, sometimes I wasn't even taking them with water because I didn't want to get up and grab water.

I want to go back to sleeping better. I actually get deeper sleep when I sleep with less meds. It's just that it takes me a lot longer to fall asleep, and my schedule has been all fucked up lately. I want to at least stay on the lowest dose that is still safe and works for me, and not rely on them too much. (I know this is possible because I was doing better with sleep in January and before my emotional breakdown towards the end of March, so again... just another thing I need to get back on track with)

And ugh, I just. Realize there are all sorts of things I want to do, that are totally everyday normal things, and that those are the things I should be focusing on. Like. I have things I want to enjoy (that I will actually have fun with and that won't trigger me). I want to keep watching and reading new stuff. I want to stay alive for my puppy. I want to take care of myself and feel physically better even when it feels like there's no point. There IS a point, I'm worth it no matter what bullshit my brain tries to tell me. I want to feel proud of myself for every time I resist a compulsive behavior. I want to feel what it's like to eat normally and sleep normally again. I want to create more stuff for my own enjoyment. I want to laugh and smile and be happy, not rot. I want the gift I got myself to come in the mail. I want to be fucking nice to myself instead of all the shit I've done to myself in the past to numb myself or hurt myself. I'm so sorry I treated my past self like shit, but I can't erase the past. I just need to keep hanging on and believing that I'll get out of this mess/cycle/pattern/whatever you want to call it. Just one little baby step at a time. I can and I will do it.

[ellievickstar]

Sinner's Sacrifice

A/N: Here's part 2 of Bloodied Bonds , i'm going for alliteration in the title hahah. it's a lot shorter than the first part i wish i made it longer but i feel like i was stretching it out i know i know it sucks to wait for parts i really wanted it to only be two parts long but i really had a "my story has it's own ideas" moment T^T. I'm so so sorry towards anyone who thought this would be the last part I can assure you I thought that too. I hope you enjoy <3

Summary: As Azriel struggles to navigate a situation where he could lose you no matter what he chooses, take a look into his own heart.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying, self-sacrificing thoughts

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Azriel had lost count of how many hours it had been since he had threatened to eventually murder Elain.

And he was losing damned mind.

Every single day he had sat in the chair beside your sleeping form….you were breathing, which was an improvement from the heaving and choking in your sleep that alarmed Madja enough to order the inner circle to start taking turns watching over you. Madja believed that your condition improved because he was finally turning away from Elain, but that was what the bond sensed. Without your mind, your own belief to ensure your heart, your condition was bound to deteriorate again.

And yet you could not wake up so he could explain.

So he could apologise.

So he could beg for your forgiveness.

Everyday without making the decision to let Madja just remove the roots of the flowers seemed like a gamble, but after what had been discovered, what Cassian had caught Elain doing, the entire inner circle was not sure if it would be better to let your relationship go, or let you go.

Both scenarios, Azriel would lose.

In both situations, Azriel would lose you forever and a part of him felt like maybe he deserved it. If you ever woke up, ever wanted revenge to make him feel guilty for what had been done, regardless the fact that it had been out of his control, you would have gotten it in spades when he realised that his ignorance, his belief that he could help just one more person, his blindness to the Elain’s darkness, had caused him a situation that would cost him no matter what he did.

And in that, all he could do daily was hold your hand, and weep.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“Go shower Azriel. It’s been three days,” Cassian said softly. The shadowsinger merely moved his head to gaze at his friend who leaned against the door frame. Not out of habit but because he genuinely needed the support. Azriel saw the eyebags under Cassian’s eyes, his tired exhausted expression not far from the one Azriel wore.

When Azriel simply shook his head, bringing his gaze back to his mate, not wanting to move another muscle, Cassian groaned.

“Azriel she won’t die within the time it takes you to take a quick bath, please, you need it,” However, Azriel once again did not move, this time not even deigning Cassian a response. The latter simply sighed before making his way towards Rhys’s office, pushing the door open to see Rhysand surrounded by various books, piles of them in the corner, some of them discarded with pages torn out.

“Rhys…?” Cassian knocked on the slightly ajar door.

Violet eyes met Cassian’s hazel ones and Rhys simply let out a breath before standing, checking the time by glancing at the window behind him, “Ah…it’s dark….I did not notice,” He simply stated awkwardly, moving to gather up some of the books from his desk, no doubt to bring it with him to his and Feyre’s room to further study until the waking hours of the next morning.

It broke Cassian’s heart to see his brothers in such a state.

Broke his own heart to see you lying there completely unconscious, every few days needing Madja to extract flowers from your throat.

The women of the house had isolated themselves to their own rooms. Mor came to your room every few hours to check on you however she stayed in her room surrounded by a similar book pile as Rhys, trying to consult her own oracles of truth to see if they had any answers. Amren had gone over to the summer court with Varian to see if they had any records that the Night Court did not, Nesta looked through the libraries with the priestesses, passing anything she found that may be useful to Feyre who scanned through them.

All this and nothing.

They had come up short.

Contacting Thesan, Helion, even Tamlin to see if there was any connections of the disease to the spring court, had come to nothing. No answers. No solutions.

Finally, as Cassian rounded the corner of the house he entered the room they had been keeping Elain in. There she was chained to the ground staring at the wall. For a moment Cassian would have felt bad for how hollow she looked, however his guilt was quickly swallowed by the anger he felt for what she had done to cause your current state.

“I see how you can help her…” Elain suddenly said, her eyes flitting to Cassian, “When minds connect, when you travel through souls,” She hummed before continuing to fiddle with the hem of her dress. Her cheeks were sunken in and hollow, her eyes now held a sharp and piercing stare instead of the soft glint. For once, Elain Archeron’s true colours were on full display.

At her words however, Cassian froze, his tone dropping to a dangerous timbre, “Do you know how to save Y/N,” Elain hummed, “I’ll tell you….for a price.”

“Do you really think that you are in a position to bargain?”

“She’s running out of time isn’t she?”

Cassian bit down on his tongue, hard. Storming out of the room he slammed the door shut, letting out a pained and frustrated roar.

Elain knew. Or at least there was a possibility that she knew. However, her calm demeanour and unflinching attitude showed Cassian no signs of lies. She knew how to save you but she wanted something out of it.

With a silent prayer, Cassian swore to himself he’d find the way to save you even if he had to pry it out of the memories in Elain’s dead body.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“So she knows how to save my sister,” Rhys confirmed, Cassian nodded, “That’s what she claims. If she’s lying then she’s damned good at it, however she’s suggesting a bargain, I didn’t pry into the details she was thinking of.”

Not without Rhysand himself present.

Not without Azriel.

The three brothers looked at each other, Azriel’s hand was holding yours, had been holding yours since Rhysand and Cassian had come into the room saying that they had something to discuss.

“We should ask her what she wants,” Azriel muttered softly, his voice hoarse and raspy from not using it for a while.

“And if she asks for your hand?” Cassian challenged, “Then we’ll find a way to break the bargain like how Feyre and Rhysand did, but for now our focus is to save her.”

It was then Rhysand recognised his brother for once after all this time, the shadow singer who would do anything to keep you safe, the self-sacrificing spy master who would sacrifice himself, his choices just to save you.

“Let’s go then,” Rhysand concluded, standing from his stool, Cassian pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and Azriel graced the back of your hand with a soft kiss before standing, casting you one last glance before following his brothers out. Nesta replaced Azriel’s position on the stool, promising the shadow singer to keep watch of you until he returned.

Following his brothers down the hallway, Azriel’s mind flooded with memories of sneaking down these halls to get away with you, memories of coming home and seeing you in the hallway, collapsing into your loving arms. Thoughts of your love and you consumed him and he shuddered under the weight of his own grief.

He could not lose you.

He would not lose you.

And so as Azriel stepped into the room of Elain’s captivity, levelling her with a glare, inside Azriel knew that he would sacrifice anything just to hold you.

Part 3 is here!!

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

A/N: please reply if you want to be tagged in part 3 people tagged in part 2 will not be tagged again in part 3 unless they ask in replies. Thank you <3

Azriel taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl @helloworlditsmesblo (please ask if you want to be added to AZRIEL'S taglist - this is NOT the same as part 3 taglist)

[bakugoushotwife]

blessing and curse

summary: yuuji is a wonderful boyfriend...you just wish he was able to fuck you... warnings: post shibuya, aged up duh, yuuji struggles with ptsd, night terrors, as well as anxiety, you both see therapists, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, fem!reader, pet names, (pretty girl, baby, cutie, etc), rough sex. wc: 3k a/n: this is my first yuuji piece nom nom nom i'm actually obsessed and soaking wet tbh i'm thinking thoughts for yuuji.........anyway to my lovely requester i hope you enjoy this <;3 jjk masterlist here

yuuji feels things very intensely. it’s a blessing and a curse, though the latter is more often experienced than the former. guilt, loss, regret–all things that nearly swallowed him whole while he fought for his friends and the people of japan–for the whole world. it’s so hard to be him, to live with what he carries on his shoulders–on his soul. he’s unloveable. he’s the one who caused all of the pain—things would have been easier if he died. there’s a number of people whose lives ended because of and for him. he was only just adjacent to a murderer. months after the fighting ceased and the war was won, he would wake up numerous times through the night with night terrors. he couldn’t even call them nightmares because they weren’t fabrications of his imagination. they were all too real memories that kept making their rounds–reminding him that he would be forever burdened with a layer of hell no one else could claim to know about. 

he met you in the waiting room of his therapist’s office. he remembers seeing you and wondering what you could be talking to his specialist about. it meant you also had to be a sorcerer—clearly he couldn’t see a normal one about his specific traumas and baggage, and apparently neither could you. he remembers not even knowing you and his heart still hurting for the pretty young girl that must be hurting like him. he remembers hoping that you hadn’t been through anything like what he had—the anxious voice in the back of his mind wondering if somehow he caused your pain via sukuna’s rampages or the destruction and death that followed him. he remembers you meeting his eyes on a seemingly unremarkable thursday afternoon, catching him in the middle of one of his staring way too long episodes. you narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at him in amusement. 

the rest was easy. you were easy to talk to, to admire, to hold, to love. you made him feel intense things in a good way–in a way he had nearly given up on. his world had slowly become a mixed palette of blacks and whites and muted grays–but your smile brought color back. your touch made vivid purples and yellows; your laughter the brightest of pinks and the most warm oranges. you became the blessing where he was the curse, the savior of a damned man bound to paint on smiles and pretend that sacrificing his soul and everyone he’s ever loved was worth it. now he felt unimaginable comfort and love by getting to know you. his smiles weren’t so fake anymore—and the only things that woke him in the night was losing you. truly the only fear that yuuji itadori has left: cursing his blessing. 

you thought he was the best boyfriend around and an even better man. you’ve slowly but surely unraveled the reason he was visiting the therapist through his eventual opening up to you and telling you just a fraction of what he’s experienced in his life and you can understand his intimacy issues. see…yuuji is easy to love. he’s wonderful, attentive, sweet, careful, strong and chivalrous. but he won’t fuck you. you’re too nervous to push him any further—all too aware of his fears of letting anyone in, of loving and showing that in ways that make you vulnerable. he’s all too conscious of what it would mean—of the danger he would be putting you in.

there’s been many times here lately that you’ve thought that line will finally be crossed—heavy petting and make-outs that get you squirming in his lap and soaking through your panties. it always goes this way, no matter how innocent the two of you try to keep your dates. move night, game night, even cooking together ends up with yuuji’s tongue down your throat and his hands under your shirt. tonight is no different, some youtube video plays in the background—a forgotten video game walkthrough that yuuji had been paying careful attention to until you leaned in to rip it away with those teasing kisses to his jaw. you know exactly what buttons to press after four months of nothing past second base driving you to a point of restlessness. 

you just wanted him to see your perseverance. you would do this for as long as it takes, anything to prove that you’re here to stay. you want to make him comfortable enough to tear those walls down—the ones that make his eyes flutter shut and his hands fist at his pants in order to keep them to himself. his eyes close to will himself to concentrate on something–anything—other than the feeling of your warm lips tracing his pulse, smooth fingers sliding under his shirt to outline the dips and muscles of his torso. it’s not that he doesn’t want to this, he craves you like nothing ever before. your touch is the medicine bringing him back to life, but he can’t allow himself to ruin you—taint you. but as you move into his lap and change your kisses to more intense nips and sucks at his skin, his body betrays his mind. he can feel the blood rush to his cock as your thighs trap him beneath you, and he moans out at the same time you do. the pressure of your clothed cunt sitting against his needy dick has his hands moving before he can tell himself to stop. he grabs your waist, accidentally and automatically rutting up against the friction you offer with a hiss. 

“fuck, cutie.” he groans, your lips covering his parted and pouty ones to keep him from protesting further. his fingers only dig into your side as the two sides of his mind argue with each other. he wants you badly, your body slotted against his perfectly and the way you kiss him like you’re trying to touch his soul drives him crazy. anyone with a girlfriend as hot as you would be a fucking idiot to keep denying himself of her. his hands knead the warm flesh of your body as an instinct, his body knowingly responding to your advances. his tongue slides over yours in a frenzy, his head becoming fuzzy as saliva trails down his chin—something in him telling him to stop when his hands slide upwards to palm your chest. you cry out at the feeling—so starved for his affection that you know you’re soaking wet already. just his rough hands scraping over your sensitive nipples sends you into rutting rhythmic circles of your hips over the tent in his pants, breaking your sloppy kiss in order to remove your shirt fully in a silent show of what you wanted to happen next. 

“aw baby—you know i can’t,” he whines, his lips swollen and even pinker than usual. he drops his hold to your hips, making comforting circles over the bone beneath his grasp. your face drops to instant heartbreak and he can feel his own heart try to rip itself apart for making you so sad. he never thought about how this must affect you, a woman with needs and desires for her boyfriend. he knows this can’t last much longer or he’ll lose you anyway. the room is just a mixture of your heavy breathing and the monotone droning of the tv for a few moments, and then you whine in retaliation, picking up his hand and moving it back to your breast. you search his eyes, seeing the fear flickering in those brown embers of his. you just need to show him there’s nothing to be scared of, that you need him worse than you need the oxygen in this room and would do anything for him today and forever. 

“yuuji,” you gasp out in such a voice that he knows he won’t be able to hold back this time. four months of seeing your body in your cute date outfits and in his shirt after you’ve spent the night; the feeling of your curves under his fingers as he guides you to the safe side of the sidewalk or the swell of your hip as he guides you through the door he’s just opened—four months of draining his balls after he’s sent you home with nothing more than a few wet kisses and tit-squeezes. the way your eyes shine like you’re about to cry if he denies you one last time…it’s too much. “please—i need you,” you breathe out, reaching those gorgeously soft hands out to sweep against his cheeks, to plead with him to be a good boyfriend. he can’t make you suffer any longer—”i need you so bad yuuji, please don’t push me away…i’m your forever girl!” 

oh fuck. he might cum in his pants from hearing that alone. suddenly, silence falls upon his mind. he can only hear the echoes of your cries for him–no more voices in his head arguing about the best way to continue, only you. a guttural groan rips from his throat and he stands with your legs wrapped around his body, a broad hand snaking up your back to keep you pressed against him. you squeal a little at the sudden shift and the deep growl that he let out, his face now devoid of that playful man you’ve come to love. he looks so focused, so serious, his brow furrowed as he looks over your face. 

“i’m sorry i made you wait so long, pretty girl.” he nods, letting your body bounce on the bed as he’s set on immediately removing the remainder of your clothes. he pulls you to the edge, legs dangling over the sides. you almost think it must be too good to be true, sitting up on your elbows to catch a glimpse of that ravenous fire consuming his previously kind eyes. he’s leaned back to peel his own clothes off, but his eyes never leave your body. he looks over your lip pinched between your teeth to your pebbled nipples to the glistening slick coating your inner thighs. he doesn’t even know where to start, but he’s going to ensure that you’re finally taken care of. “i’m a dumbass—thought i was keeping you safer like that.” he mutters, leaning over to kiss the space between your ribcage. he makes his way to your jaw, licking a hungry stripe between your breasts and claiming your neck with bruising nips at the delicate flesh that greeted him. 

you’re set to mewling immediately, the flip switched in your boyfriend making you rub your legs together in anticipation. he chuckles and you can feel him smile against your skin as his hand snakes down to keep you from squirming. he quickly pecks your lips. “m gonna make it up to you now, baby girl.” his eyes are wide, but glazed over with affection. you nod, feeling his strong fingers dig into the supple flesh of your thigh to keep you from closing them, his abs raking over your sensitive clit as he lowers himself to his knees at the foot of the bed. your face burns as you realize what he’s going to do, but he doesn’t give you time to think about it before turning your mind to mush from the feeling of his fat tongue splitting your lips apart and breaching your tiny hole. he seems pleased by the way you react—back arching off the bed and hands gripping at the sheets from the surprising burn. it’s a good burn, the kind you’ve been craving for the months you’ve been with a man who loves you like he does, your wanton moans just cementing that his choice was the right one. he’s growing addicted to this already; your flavor on his tongue, your moans echoing in his ears and your thighs pressing in to the sides of his face. he feels your silky walls clamp down on his tongue, making his eyes roll back at the thought of putting his dick in something so tight. he slurps at the arousal slipping out, sliding his tongue to the hardened bud waiting at the top of your cunt. he wraps his tongue around your clit, making you jolt at the sudden increase in sensation. it’s amazing—goosebumps prickle out over your skin and you reach down to tug at the silky pink locks woven between your fingers. you can feel every nerve running through your body and how it builds with a fiery pleasure that you know only yuuji can give you. “oh my god—yuuji!” you cry out as that pleasure mounts to a tipping point. his teeth scrape against your hood to encourage you to fall over that line so he can see what he’s been denying you of for four achingly long months. 

you make the sweetest face when you cum, it has him closing a fist around his own dick to calm himself—the promise of having your pussy making him jerk at his own touch. you even sound so pretty as you shatter, legs jerking and your grip on his hair yanking almost painfully hard. it only makes yuuji smile wider, feeling a bubbly sense of satisfaction ripple in his own gut from making you feel so good. 

“nngh, yuuji–” you whine, your vision returning to normal after a few seconds of respite. he’s already pushing you back to the pillows, manhandling you into the bent position he wanted. you’re on your back, knees by your ears and a boyfriend giving you no time to be anxious about the angry and leaky horsecock sliding through your folds. you thought he was a sweet man, and maybe he still is–but his own excitement to have you has him forgetting his normal chivalrous behavior. “fuck–yuuji!” you claw at his biceps, fighting against that true splitting burn. his tongue was nothing compared to the girth he pierces you with—and he’s smiling so tenderly at your wiggling and struggling. 

“s’okay, cutie. you can take it, you’re already taking it!! didn’t you ask me to?” he raises a brow, face flashing with mock-confusion as your hands shove at his chest, all in an effort to get used to the feeling of him inside you. his thumb brushes your cheek, his other hand keeping the back of your thigh shoved back. “nyeh—you begged me! come on pretty girl–you gotta loosen up!” he laughs airily, moving the hand from your face back down to pinch and roll your aching clit. you jump at first, the touch sending another jolt of pleasure circulating to your brain–and then you relax enough for him to move. he’s got you folded in such a way that you can hardly breathe–or maybe that’s from how he slams into you recklessly, tip catching on your poor, innocent, cervix each time. it hurts, it burns everywhere—but it’s the best feeling in the world. his breathing grows ragged once he settled into a pace, brutally slamming into you in a way that led you to believe he wasn’t doing this on accident. 

soon, your hands around his biceps slip to your sides, eyes lulling into a pleasure-induced haze. you watch him, the twitch of his nose and the way his hair gets curly once it sticks to his forehead from his sweat. he’s perfect, and he’s finally giving you all of himself, really devoting himself to you, conquering any fear. you don’t mind if you’ll be bedridden for the next week—feeling his heavy cock in your chest from how hard he ruts into you—it would be well worth it to hear his grunts and whimpers of satisfaction, to feel the bruising grip he has on your body like he’s afraid you might disappear. it’s all so good, and exactly like you craved. “there she goes—takin’ it like a champ now!” he cheers you on, panting a little as he leans over your body and grabs the headboard, deepening his angle as if he wasn’t already fucking you brainless. 

the new angle makes your jaw drop in absolute earth-shattering bliss. you two could be the only people left on earth and you would never know—to consumed in yuuji itadori to notice anything else. you’re back to pawing at his chest, the coil in your gut building rapidly as he fucks into you like his life depends on it. you wanted everything, he’ll make sure he gives you everything. the headboard creaks, the bed moans with you and you truly do worry he might break it for a split second–but his broken moan of your name swallows up any wandering thoughts. a bead of sweat slides down the slope of his nose before it drops onto your cheek, the evidence of his hardwork. he moans your name again, warning you that the end was approaching. you nod as he moves your legs to his shoulders, leaning as close as possible to wrap you in his arms and kiss you in short, desperate bursts. he treasures you more than he thought possible, that look you give him right before your eyes roll back into your head from your orgasm makes his own dick jump within your vice-grip of a cunt. you make that sweet face again, a face he knows he’s hooked on—your pussy spasming around him to welcome his fat load gets him to make his own kind of special and beautiful face, lip between his teeth and adam’s apple bobbing at the same pace his balls slap into your backside. you swear you can feel his heart beating, his lungs filling and emptying as he flattens his chest to yours and fills your guts with his loving cum. he keeps thrusting even after he’s done, just watching your face contort and shift, your body bouncing in his arms. he likes the ache of overstimluation, and loves the way you mewl and hug him, eyes all sleepy and far away. 

“that’s it, you did it, so so good.” he praises in a soft tone, kissing your lips and then your nose and then your forehead with equal adoration. “can’t believe i kept us from feeling like that!” he shakes his head, kissing your cheeks to continue showering you in his love if not to keep you awake. he sits back up and slides out of you, quickly snatching his t-shirt up to catch the spillage. it’s hot, watching his seed trickle from your abused pussy—he whines a little at the sight, puppy dog eyes flickering over your body as if to wonder if you could take another round…

now that you’ve gotten him to start, you may never get him to stop.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 4

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, drinking/alcohol, mentions of sex, mentions of blood, violence, killing, angst, i hate the pacing of this but i rewrote it like three times and then gave up

series masterlist │my masterlist

after sharing your first kiss, logan becomes much more clingy. he’s attached to you at nearly all times. if you’d thought he was affectionate before, you had no idea what you were getting into. his favourite thing is to press his face into your neck, licking and biting the skin there, but it’s not just your neck. you’ve become a chew toy for a 400 pound man.

he’s never too harsh with it, always gentle with you. he knows you’re not as strong as him. it’s affectionate nibbling, like dogs biting their owners, and you love it because it’s such a clear sign of logan’s happiness.

it reminds you of the early days with logan, where he couldn’t stand to be in a different room as you, though now it’s no longer out of fear but out of a deep desire for closeness and companionship.

and things are good for a while, like that. you enjoy the ease of your unlabeled relationship. he’s yours and you’re his, in every capacity. there’s no need to put an arbitrary, man-made label on your relationship when most of it is quiet, unspoken. you’ve never really had a conversation about what you are, but it’s obvious.

you had thought yourself happy before meeting logan, at peace with the life you’d made for yourself, self-sufficient and doing all the things you loved. you weren’t slaving away at a corporate job, making hardly enough money to support your hobbies, leaving you with hardly any time to enjoy them anyway. it was good.

this is a different kind of happiness, one you’d thought was only real in fairytales. you feel as though he has some sort of six-sense telling him how you’re feeling, when you’re tense or unhappy. he makes you feel like a princess.

but all good things must come to an end. 

he starts to have more nightmares, takes to sleeping in the guest room because he doesn’t want to keep you awake all night with him. more often than not you’ll hear him shouting in his sleep, deep grunts of pain that have you rising from your bed and joining him, hoping your presence will soothe him.

and you like to think that it does. you never get too close to him when he’s tossing and turning restlessly, claws out, metal gleaming in the low moonlight streaming from the gap in the curtains, but you know that logan’s senses are enhanced, heightened, and so you hope that he can feel your presence even while stuck in a nightmare, that you can drag him out of it. eventually he always either settles or wakes up, though both are better alternatives than watching him struggle against an invisible enemy.

you’ve had a few more close calls, where his claws get a little too close, where you let your guard down and lean closer towards him even though you know better, because your heart aches for him.

he becomes more human by the day. he doesn’t tell you when his memories start to come back to him, but you can tell.

you can tell when you get home to find him on the couch with a bottle of whiskey that he must have gotten from the cellar, the one you’d never shown him how to find. it belonged to your grandfather, so you’d gotten it along with the house, but you don’t drink very often and so you haven’t made much use of it.

he takes large swigs of the half-empty bottle, the smell of whiskey on his breath and the taste of booze on his tongue when you go to kiss him. 

you can tell when he becomes less expressive with you, no longer sharing his emotions on his face or with his behaviour as easily as before. he doesn’t bound up to you and sniff you to check where you’ve been, to check if anyone’s gotten too close, their scent clinging onto your clothes. he doesn’t growl when he’s upset or annoyed, just grits his teeth and clenches his jaw tight.

you can tell by the way he holds back his little noises when you pull his head into your lap, scratching at his scalp and tugging on the longer tufts of his hair that you’d jokingly started to refer to as kitty ears. you miss the soft purring, the knowledge that logan was happy and comfortable with you.

sometimes you’ll plan out conversations in your head, acting out how you’ll talk to him and the words you’ll use and how he might reply. but when you try to ask him if he’s alright, placing a hand on his trembling one, sitting down in his lap so he can’t escape, he always shrugs it off. he tells you you’re sweet for worrying about him and kisses you until you no longer remember what you wanted to say.

there’s something happening in his mind that he’s not telling you about, but you chalk up all his odd behaviours to him needing time to deal with remembering his old life.

if his constant nightmares tell you anything, it’s that the memories returning to him aren’t positive ones. there’s a pain in him that wasn’t there before, a darkness that lingers behind his eyes, haunted by things he’s seen. you can’t imagine anyone would deal very well with the onslaught of traumas returning with a vengeance.

he doesn’t stop kissing you, doesn’t stop hugging you from behind, doesn’t stop surprising you by sneaking up behind you and picking you up out of nowhere, making you shriek and giggle. so you tell yourself you’re being dramatic, it’ll resolve itself in time.

it doesn’t.

he goes out to run through the forest, to hunt as the natural predator he was always meant to be, but when he comes back he won’t speak to you. he shrugs you off, locking the door to the bathroom so you can’t meet him in there.

it’s a small thing, but it’s a crack in the routines you and logan have been building together, the wordless nature of your relationship crumbling around you because all of a sudden it no longer feels like the two of you are on the same wavelength.

you cry silently on the couch, head in your hands, feeling like your world is collapsing. the perfect bubble that had settled around you and logan had popped, and now reality was coming in to destroy the fantasy you’d grown accustomed to. you should have seen it coming - in fact, you had, with every night he spent in a bottle instead of on your lips, but you’d chosen to ignore it.

he doesn’t seem to be as in-tune with your emotions anymore, and you wonder if it’s because he simply doesn’t care enough to try.

the through wrenches you in two.

you had given logan your heart, placed it in his rough, calloused hands and asked him to hold it for you. and now you could feel that very same hand, once so gentle and careful, squeezing tighter and tighter, a physical ache.

you need time away from him, away from the house where every corner has memories attached. so you journey into town.

you’re out for a while, walking aimlessly. the streets grow dark, the sun setting in hues of orange and pink behind the horizon, streetlamps turning on to replace the sunlight, though their dim glow is hardly an effective replacement. and still, you don’t return home, not quite ready to face logan.

it’s as you’re preparing to head back, muttering reassuring words to yourself under your breath, that someone grabs you from behind, a hand against your mouth so you can’t scream. you’re shoved into an alley, thin and dingy between two shops that have already closed for the night, their employees gone home to rest, no one around to hear your struggles.

you scream, though the sound is muffled, and cry and kick at your assailant, but he won’t let go. he’s stronger than you.

you think about logan, who doesn’t know where you are, who probably walked out of the bathroom with only a towel around his waist, stray droplets of water tracing down the grooves of his abs. you think about how on any other day you would have kissed down his chest to catch the water on your lips, not yet venturing below his waist, though you’ve done other things.

you hope you don’t die tonight. there’s still so much you haven’t done, so much you haven’t said.

and then the body holding yours is gone and you fall to the ground, knees scraping the pavement on your way down. you cry and cry, fear and anger and relief all washing together into a mess you can’t name. you barely notice the sounds of your assailant begging for mercy, or the low growl from your saviour. but you can smell the blood in the air, the tang of iron.

“what the fuck were you thinking?” strong arms lift you up and instinctively you squirm to try to get away, until a hand grabs your chin and forces your gaze upwards. logan’s furious glare stares back at you, his eyes narrowed and jaw tense.

“i- i’m sorry,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out, and you collapse against him. because even if he’s covered in blood and his claws are still out and he’s just murdered a man, even if he’s clearly angry and dangerous, you’ve never felt safer.

he’s quiet the whole way home. he doesn’t speak to you as he carries you inside the house, refusing to let you walk on your own, doesn’t speak to you as he cleans the cuts on your knees, doesn’t speak to you as he settles you down on the couch with a soft blanket fresh out of the dryer, doesn’t speak to you as he makes your tea the exact way you like it.

and then, “wanna tell me what you were doing out there? you know it’s unsafe for a pretty girl like you after dark, you don’t need me telling you that.”

“i just needed some air,” you argue, though there’s not much heat behind the words, staring down at your steaming mug of tea, watching the unmoving liquid as if it’s the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. logan scoffs, and you can see him in your peripheral vision, looking so unlike the man you thought you knew.

“there’s plenty of air here, we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“you know what i mean,” you sigh, and he stares at you with his hands on his hips until you roll your eyes and continue, “i needed to be away from you! is that what you want to hear? you’re different lately and it scares me because everything was so great for some time and now you’re…”

“different?” he laughs sharply, “yeah, i’ve got my memories back. i remember every awful fucking thing that’s ever happened to me, every time i’ve been tortured. you know how many times i’ve been tortured? you think i’d act the same after that?”

“it’s not that,” you argue, placing your mug down on the coffee table, “we don’t sleep in the same bed anymore! you refuse to let me see you when you come home after hunting! you don’t cuddle up to me like you did before! you used to kiss my neck all the time and now you don’t! you’re just… pulling away. and i know i’m being selfish, fuck do i know it. but every time i’ve tried to have a conversation with you about this you shut it down so what was i supposed to do, logan?”

“you wanna have a conversation?” he shouts, “fine, talk.”

your breath is coming out in ragged pants. there’s a fire in your veins, a fury you haven’t felt in a very long time, it’s intensity paralysing you. you watch logan’s face, the way he stands before you, his imposing figure stretched above yours.

and there’s nothing you can say. the words you’ve been preparing every night before bed for days and days flutter away in a breeze. all you can do is watch his chest rising and falling.

“i wish you would talk to me,” is the only thing you manage to choke out.

“you’re not getting that version of me back,” he says, voice finally softening into something resembling his usual gruff but not unkind tone, “i remember who i am now. so you gotta let go of this shit, or you gotta let go of me.”

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog

if your name is in white it means i couldn’t tag you for some reason. i’m very sorry :(

[yeeterthek33per]

Meet You Maybe Never (Chapter 2)

A/n Here we go, y'all. Enjoy 😘

Part 2 of this.

Content/Warning(s): Fluff. Also terribly translated German, feel free to telepathically forehead smack me if it's wrong. Time jumps a few times but I'm hoping it makes sense.

--------------------------

Early morning runs.

Specifically, Magda's early morning runs.

Despite Pernille's disgust at the woman's early morning energy levels, she'd gotten used to the ten years of waking up to an either empty bed or a very sweaty wake-up call from a freshly run-out Magda.

So, inevitably, when she woke up this morning, she suspected it was due to the front door shutting behind a returning girlfriend.

However, the loudness was more of a startle awake than her usual slow wake to hearing something shift in the room or her girlfriend kissing her awake.

The Swede wasn't one to slam doors, in fact, she usually would chastise anyone who had, a little too enthusiastically, slammed any doors in the house.

Pernille included.

"Pernille, I know you're asleep but you need to see this."

A soft grumble into the pillow.

"Not anymore."

"It happened again!"

Grunting, she sits up sleepily, although more alert than her previous state now.

"Magda wha-"

A phone shoved into her face the moment the Swede practically launches herself into the room and onto the bed, with much more enthusiasm than should be had at seven in the morning.

"Look."

As if she hadn't gotten the hint already.

Squinting, like only a freshly woken dead person can, at the phone screen, she sees a photo of a newly painted mural come into view.

"Okay...?"

The dirty blonde woman huffs.

"Did you actually look at it?"

The Dane cracks an unimpressed brow but looks back at the phone now.

It's a familiar piece.

Or at least the work is.

It's a mural of Magda this time.

Brightly painted like it just came out of the can.

"I could have caught the Straßengänger, that's how fresh it is."

"We should check it out later, can I go back to sleep now?"

Pouting softly but returning to a standing position from where she now realises is her girlfriends lap, Magda moves towards the en suite doorway.

"Or you could get up and come save water?"

The Swede makes a come hither gesture, but the older woman just shakes her head, tucking herself happily back under the covers.

"Shower and then come cuddle and I might think about getting up in an hour."

A soft chuckle and then the door shutting is the last thing she hears before she's back to sleep, followed by a shuffle in the bedding and a now clean and dry body wrapping around her frame a little while later.

It was news, but it could wait.

At least, it could for her, but it was something playing on the Swede's mind as she attempted to relax into her partners sleeping form.

--------------------------

Life in Munich had thankfully been less hectic than when they'd first arrived.

Mostly in part due to Pernille's previous history with Germany.

That was one Magda would happily let her partner take credit for, despite stubbornly struggling with the language, she was grateful for the Dane and her heavily doting teammates.

Said doting teammates had thankfully shown her enough spots and routes around town for jogs, places to avoid during certain times of day, the whole lot.

That was something she'd listed as a must-do.

Her morning runs were crucial in her routine, despite her partners protests early on to stay in bed for a while longer.

They eventually settled for a cuddle session after showering upon return, although, it only took them a year of living together to finally come to that agreement in London.

The cool morning air in Munich felt especially crisp but better than the late winter mornings had been.

Spring was on the way and that made it all the better to be running.

That was her excuse, anyway.

She was more interested in keeping an eye out for more information or sightings of a certain street artist.

And she had nothing to worry about, because within a month and a half, another appeared, this time much more of an invigorating find.

She was first to the scene here, and nothing had been touched in terms of how fresh the paint looked.

She was almost certain if she had shown earlier, she would have met with the artist themself, again.

It seems she'd have to try a bit harder, though, because there was no sign of the masked individual that morning.

Though, that wasn't much of a surprise.

They'd been especially careful to not be caught after having been plastered over the Munich forums with a single photo of them catching onto the media within hours.

That'd been before they arrived though, and it's been months since then.

Still, they were becoming more and more intriguing the more the artist left behind murals.

It'd be less intriguing if they were just doing murals for the club, but it seems like they've taken a focus on two players and two players only.

Everything else she had come across had been entirely different, usually just simple landscapes and dig as she might, nothing else.

She hadn't been keen on getting in on the investigations to do with the Straßengänger, at least until she realised how invested she was becoming along with her partner.

As she scanned over the mural, smaller details appeared.

Only, this time, the words seemed to be a bit more targeted towards her, much like Pernille's mural was towards her.

"Determined."

"Observant"

"Radiant."

"Competitive."

And one more word in German that she has to translate.

"Analytisch"

Analytical.

After that, she steps back, takes a photo and practically sprints the rest of the way back to the apartment.

By the time she's in the door, shouting up the stairs at her most likely asleep girlfriend, she's winded herself enough to forget to even consider what half of the wording meant.

And not just on the level of it being who she is as a person.

These were on purpose.

To specifically draw their attention.

Or at least hers.

In fact it doesn't occur to her that it's anything but another mural.

At least not until she's doing warm downs later that day and it clicks in her head.

She'd spent so much time analysing the artist and asking questions, she didn't even think about the part where said artist might have connections locally that would spread word about her asking about them.

--------------------------

It takes less than a day to hear about a certain Swede's line of questioning about a certain Straßengänger.

A little bit of sleuthing yourself leads you to how much she actually knows.

It's amusing you if anything.

Hence why you left the mural the way you did.

Gave her an incentive, let her know you know.

Or that the Straßengänger knows.

Also because you had an itch, and it needed to be scratched.

You'd done Pernille enough justice, then Magda.

Only you had to come up with something because that itch was starting to come back.

Regardless, you'd let your latest piece catch it's traction first.

Inspire more of an audience, you inspire attention and support to the women's game.

That's why you're doing this in the first place.

Isn't it?

It's also why you're stuck in several back to back meetings with several media lackeys right now.

You love your job but damn, sometimes you hate it.

Not to be ungrateful, nor ignorant of the knowledge of what you signed up for.

It's just another part of life and you'd have to scratch whatever itches that come from outside of it, later.

At some point, in the umpteenth meeting for the day, you spot a certain pair wander by the window, chatting animatedly with someone you were certain would be coming in for a meeting with you now.

Then, it seems, they enter the room.

You weren't aware they were joining you but who were you to complain.

"Ah, apologies for the interruption, Director, but they were just finishing up the last of their training before they could come down."

"That's quite alright, you ladies are free to take the table whenever you wish. I'm not in any hurry, trust me."

The pair smile and enter the room, taking seats in the remaining spots at the table, while the attending media manager introduced their presence in the meeting.

"So, we have been working on this partnership for a while. I understand the nature of this kind of deal would normally be dealt with by the players' personal managers or themselves but with everything happening all at once.."

The manager then gestures to the women to speak.

It's the Swede who speaks up first.

"We were hoping for a project management approval so we could get this under way quicker and easier. Estée Lauder have contacted Pernille and myself through our managers, and would like to partner with us to get a Women's health initiative started."

The older woman nods, turning to you directly.

"Director, if we could ask for someone on your team, or perhaps if you can grant the time, since we've seen the work you do."

A small brow in question at the woman across from you.

"As in, we've seen the women's projects you've started, completed, supported. We'd love for you to be involved directly, if you were willing to spare the time of course, the women's side of the club could directly benefit from the media attention of course, but also for the club as a whole. Or perhaps, if you can't maybe someone you'd be willing to trust with working with us on this? I know it's a lot to ask as two players who have only recently joined but-"

"Yes. I will assist in this project."

"And I think- yes?"

Amused with the surprise on the pairs' faces, you hold a hand up, explaining yourself further.

"You don't need to convince me anymore, it's the perfect time actually, this could be a great, and mind the terrible wording here, kick off to our season's campaigning plan. I would love to help this initiative get started personally. Contact me directly when you want to get started."

The wide smiles on the pairs faces make the extra work worth it as they both shake your hand, thanking you.

"We appreciate this so much."

"Of course, when it's for the support of women in the world, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Of course, it's completely true, this isn't just extra work to you.

It's a very important project that you'd take over and over if it meant the growth, support and visibility for women's health.

Smiling and nodding as they leave, you turn to your assistant, Liana.

"Liana, can you please put the Estée Lauder project on priority?"

"Of course, would you like me to put their numbers direct through to you as well?"

"Yes, thank you."

And true to your word and theirs, they call within a day, organising the information both sides will need.

"Alright, so we need to organise the time and place for you both to actually meet and settle an agreement for media duties, targeting audience, public viewership accessibility, etcetera."

"Magdalena and myself were both discussing possible days and times, with the upcoming international, we were hoping to do it before then, maybe in two weeks time?"

"Sounds good, I'll contact them on your behalf, if that's okay of course, and arrange a day between say, the twenty-second and the eighth?"

"Perfect, is there anything else we should prep before then?"

"Just your lovely selves, I'll have everything ready by then."

Nodding to the camera, you wave a small goodbye over the video call, hanging up after receiving confirmation, noting down everything they'd told you about the deal.

As you'd promised, within the following forty-eight hours, you call the representative that Pernille had supplied the number for, letting her know you were calling on behalf of the pair.

"Yes, hello, I am calling on behalf of Pernille Harder and Magdalena Eriksson. As their representative and representative of the organisation that employs them, I've been asked to organise a time and place for the negotiations of the upcoming project I've been made aware you and your organisation have been planning?"

It goes as smoothly as it could, surprising you if anything at how cordial the rep was being.

Normally you'd often have to go to bat for the players and any compensation they'd be advised to be given but they were generous and if anything, Pernille and Magda had themselves specified there was not much if anything that they wanted from this except to boost this project publicly.

They're an actively public persona and set of footballers, so really, the only thing to gain here is more support for the women's game.

The rep has zero qualms about compensating the players, but they both refuse, instead encouraging that the money be spent towards the project.

Donating their own time, and any possible pay prospects towards the future of Women's health.

If you weren't falling for the pair little by little already, now you definitely were.

And you had something to say about it.

Or rather.

Paint it.

-------------------------

It takes weeks until the launch of the progress, and videos are released. It's smooth as anything with them, like you expected.

You were constantly hearing from your crew about how easy it was to work with the pair for media days, so anything like this wasn't any different in your eyes.

They were confident, well respected, and self respected, level headed during proceedings and incredibly smart about any decisions they had to make.

In fact, you'd say you weren't even needed ninety percent of the time, the only time you really needed to speak on behalf of them to do with larger legal matters and anything to do with your place in this.

Everything else went through them.

Thus, you had time to plan your next move.

It was a set out large wall, freshly painted white and you'd managed to even get it in a larger area so you had plenty of space to work.

Your only challenge was doing it during the night.

Taking inspiration from the company involved, and from the footballers, using the colours of the Estée Lauder logo, a deep blue and whites, almost like black and white portraits, monochrome but with a deep navy instead, you painted both of their images up on the wall.

This time, using entirely words for the fill in and not just certain parts.

You knew this one would take a while, but it could be done.

After the very slow process of mapping out everything, you began going over it with a layer of black paint, slowly carving each shadow, crease line, jawline, pupil shine, each piece a small word of description.

This time, the words in each of their respective native languages.

Thankfully, you had a little help with that.

Not intentional of course, getting them to create media profiles, talking about themselves in languages their fans would understand from the national team, not just English and German.

Picking up bits and pieces, and a thankfully very helpful closed captioner sitting by your side who wrote and translated everything for the videos, and yourself, for Creative Director purposes, obviously.

Words like

"Empowered"

"Luminous"

"Inspired"

"Protective" For Magda

"Phenomenal" For Pernille.

And everything in between that you can put in.

But mostly one word that's resonated with you since they first got announced as a part of your club.

"Captivating"

That was the least you could describe them as.

As much you are an artist, you felt as close to a writer as you ever would be just creating this mural.

It was a lot of work for something that would surely stir up something amongst the community.

Inspiration?

Support?

A new sense of endearment from the locals as they fall back in love with their home team again?

Well, it's not like they ever fell out of love with them, more just needed incentive to return regular appearances at games again.

If it took hold internationally, well that's just a bonus.

It sounds like a lot of optimism coming from someone who's essentially graffiti-ing every blank white wall in the city with the faces of some people who a lot of Munich society may not even recognise, but when you've been doing this as long as you have.

Every single time one of your murals make the internet, and if you have a bit of hope that this one will make it big?

That's nobodies business but yours.

By the time you're done with the first lot of paint, you're sweating. It's a big damn wall and you aren't the most fit person you know. Hell, nearly everyone you know are either office workers or athletes.

Sure, you scale buildings, walls and nearly impossible to climb scaffolding but you damn aren't an endurance athlete.

Your grip strength may be in the high numbers but fuck being able to hang on to the same pole for a solid two hours.

That being said, the mural just needs the final touch up paint layers, little things like reinstating white shines and some shadows into the portraits.

Both faces have smiling expressions, examples of pure happiness and joy as they celebrate another win.

The best bit about working in a club like this is getting to see the players in form, on the pitch and outside of it, too.

Every moment you've gotten to witness all of the players in.

It's all come back to inspiration for your work.

You do it all for the players, for the one's who've worked as hard, if not harder than you have to get to where they are.

That's inspiration.

That's why you do what you do.

To get to witness that inspiration come to life.

So painting that into a mural is nothing if not a mere chip away at what can be shared with the world about the pure elation at seeing all of your dreams and hard work come to life.

And doing it with some of the community's most loved players also helps.

The final touch up layers come in quite nicely, taking a small break to let the other half of the paint dry before trying to paint over it.

As an artist, you don't really get to see a reveal like other people do.

Instead, the end result isn't so much of a surprise as seeing it for the first time.

You know how you want it to turn out, it's just getting it there in the first place.

You add and change little bits here and there.

Sometimes, you don't even know how its going to turn out but you still start somewhere with a general idea of where it's going.

With murals like these, there's always a game plan.

It's just easier that way.

Setting out a trace line and then going over it with the style and paint you want is how you do it.

So seeing it complete doesn't amaze you necessarily.

However, taking a step back, clearing your head and gazing over this complete mural allows you to just breathe and take it in.

It's beautiful.

And you hope the subjects take it that way, too.

Hearing a few shuffles, you tuck your mask back in a bit better, hoping no one saw you, and shove everything back into your bag hastily.

A group of adults walking by chatting and laughing makes you jump around the corner.

They don't spot you, and in the pitch dark, they don't see the mural either, only chatting away with each other.

It's in the early hours of the day that you finally make it home, again.

On your walk home, you think you spot a familiar jogging blonde across the road but don't stick around or follow to find out.

By then, you'd switched out your mask for a cap and turned inside out jacket and hiding hands in your pockets for the little flecks of paint the gloves didn't catch.

There's always some.

Your apartment isn't much farther from where you saw the blonde jogging, so when it's confirmed when all of sudden, on your way out the door for work, you see her practically sprinting home, it doesn't surprise you.

What does is the pace she's keeping.

Did she see the mural?

You didn't get much sleep if any, so you think you must be a little delusional to think she'd have found it so quickly, and then having had sprinted the whole way back again?

She's an athlete and all, but come on.

That'd be some determination.

You knew she'd been keeping an eye on the Straßengänger's next moves, but to catch on that quickly, there was no way.

But then you thought about it.

She's always been vocal about keeping a tight schedule.

Maybe they live closer than you think, and she's just on a morning run.

If that's the case, you've hit closer to home than you expected to, but it doesn't bother you so much as it does surprise you.

You'd just have to be more careful or you risk being caught, again.

Maybe being caught wouldn't be so bad if it was them.

You'd have to find out.

--------------------------

Pernille's eyes catch yours across the table, watching you listen intently as her girlfriend beside her rattles off lists of things that need doing for the campaign.

She'd spent so much time talking herself, that it took a little nudge from the Swede with a small knowing smile to let her take over for a bit.

The Dane was nothing if not determined, so taking charge of the campaign was more accidental that intentional.

Hell, they'd both been captains, they were both leaders.

That's why they worked so well together.

They both knew when to step in and when to step back and let the other do what they needed to do.

But something about this made her want to step in constantly.

So instead of interrupting Magda with possible interjections until she was sure her girlfriend wasn't already getting to those, she distracted herself minorly with just listening and observing.

Something drew her to you, though.

It was the passion with which you worked, the easy going but fiery steadfastness of your work, your ability, your personality.

The focus in you, the ability to talk your way around legalities and make it such a smooth process as you had.

At the moment, there was tactics of media advertisement that were being thrown around, things like videos and conferences.

Things like possible logos and sponsorship for the youth women's teams.

Those were something you would be handling with the clubs people as well, setting up possible sponsorships for the academy players and up and coming new players in the area looking to get into the game.

As well as charity donations, supporting women's shelters, donating to children's hospitals.

Everything under the sun thrown on to the table as an option.

And you took it all in stride, listening and giving small feedback but affirmations and assurances that you'd look into the options, see what you can negotiate with the business and what you could give as an option of advertisement for Estée Lauder themselves.

And they trusted you would do everything you could available to make those things happen for it.

She had no idea why she trusted you so much.

Especially when you were a business person.

They'd spent so much time being burned and run around by business people.

Not everyone was bad, but it didn't help that they were approached by people just looking for boosts for their company without doing anything in return.

The pair were never after money but god forbid they give something to something they choose.

So to finally have a company they trust on their side, and to have someone in their corner fighting with them.

It's the best feeling.

Especially when that person knows how to get it.

But there's something about you in particular.

There's a look behind your eyes.

One of genuine idolisation and passion for those with genuine belief and want to help build a better community and world of football for those who can't or need a little help themselves.

But also something else she recognises, she can't quite figure it out, but it's familiar and she almost feels safer knowing it's there.

It was a slow recognition that came to her mind over the past weeks working with you.

You weren't with them every minute of the work day, obviously, but once every couple of days was enough for her to find that familiarity.

One thing she notices is how much you fidget with your hands while working, while thinking.

It's a nervous habit, she slowly realises.

Picking at the skin of your cuticles.

Then she sees a small fleck of something, marker or ink or something.

And then it flecks off as you pick at it.

Ink wouldn't do that.

Paint would, though.

Before she can question it much further than necessary, though, Magda nudges her softly.

"All good?"

She looks up, realising the Swede had long finished talking and she'd just zoned out watching you fidget.

"Of course, right, just zoning a bit."

She says it in a small joking tone, both of them knowing well that she doesn't so well sitting still for so long.

You hum softly.

"That's completely understandable, as much as I am an office worker, I don't sit still too well, myself. Shall we take a small break? It's been a couple hours as is."

Magda nods in agreement.

"C'mon, we can head down to the campus cafeteria for some coffee?"

"Sure, I just have to head to the bathroom, I'll meet you down there?"

Nodding, the swede watches as the Dane exits before gesturing to the door.

"Join us?"

You smile.

"Sure."

Taking the opportunity to stretch her muscles well, the both of you wander down to the coffee stand, Magda ordering for her and Pernille, and then gestures for you to order as well.

"I'll pay for my own, it's all good."

You try to wave away the Swede but she insists.

"We've been talking your ears off all morning, the least we could do is pay for your caffeine intake to deal with it."

It's meant as a joke, but you chuckle and interject with.

"Please, I'd rather listen to you both talk all day than the work I do on a daily basis anyway."

"Oh, really, what could possibly be less interesting than us talking your ears off then?"

She nudges you, shoulder to shoulder, watching you flush a little.

"Office work, sitting all day in meetings, phone calls and constant paperwork. I've always hated sitting around like that. But that's just the half of it. I usually spend the extra time I get making promotional material and organising events for the club. As much as I'd like to focus just on the women's side of things, the board wanted me for the whole club. Creative Director and all."

You snort at the last bit.

"Not a fan of the position?"

"It's where I want to be in terms of what I can do for the club and how much I get to influence the parts I've always dreamed of being a part of but it just comes with all the bits I've always hated, too, so yes and no."

Your coffees are made and ready and by the time you've found seats, Pernille makes her way into the room, sitting in the spot on either side of you.

"Ah, babe, here."

Magda nudges the coffee towards the lighter blonde, her girlfriend thanking her, taking a sip of the coffee with a grateful sigh.

"What about the good parts, what else do you get to do for the club, I know we've read a lot, but surely there's stuff that the rest of us aren't told, am I correct?"

Sipping your coffee, you set it down again, nodding.

"It's a lot of work behind the scenes more than anything. Despite watching over a lot of the media parts, I don't see much of it myself. Only being shown the results at the end and obviously, any major parts of plans and announcements. Major brand deals, sponsorships and I get asked to do a lot of the men's organisational parts of their promotional as well, apparently they couldn't get anybody else to do it one persons job. It's a lot. But it's what I do best."

"Tell us about your favourite parts."

Pernille's the one to speak up.

"Actually, working with you, the players is my favourite part, I don't get to do it a lot, but when I do, you guys are the best people I get to work with, most of the time because you guys act like you're all human, not like the others. Not saying they aren't or that I don't get on well with them, because I do, especially my assistant and anyone I work closely with but they're just too professional, like they don't have too much of their own input to put in. I know I'm their boss, but I like hearing people talk about their own passions."

Pausing for a moment, you scratch at the back of your hand, something Pernille notes immediately.

"Actually, you guys are probably the best I've worked with so far."

"Really?"

You hum, nodding.

"You are both passionate, easy to talk with, understand what's going on and how to navigate situations like this. Dealing with legalities ninety percent of the time is left up to me and me alone, which is fair enough, not everyone has the patience, time or want to deal with it, but it's refreshing seeing both of you be able to keep up with all of this. You're both incredibly intelligent, analytical and passionate and it's a relief to work with more than anything. That's why I was so eager to accept your proposal for the project."

They both grin.

"We're glad to have made this process smoother, then."

"More than anything, you guys have made my job easier than it's ever been."

Chuckling you clink your coffee with the others and take another sip in cheers.

"What about you both?"

They both look at you confused.

"Well, since we're getting our answers from the sources, I wanna know, what drives you both, why this? I've heard it through so many third parties, I want to know why you're both so involved."

"Well considering we've both loved football our entire lives, grew up playing it, found clubs we love. The whole nine yards."

"You make it sound like you haven't done what ninety-nine percent of others have never done themselves."

"That's exactly why we do what we do, to help others who can't but deserve it more than anything to do the same, achieve their dreams, show the world what they're made of."

"Yeah, Magda's pretty much said it all, there. We do what we do because we want other's to know how much they can achieve and also helping them get there. Women most of all. In more than half the world, women were banned for fifty years from playing, which I'm sure you know, and Women's Football needs the boost."

"I love that."

You take another sip of your coffee.

"It's amazing what you both have done in and out for women as a community and for growing stars in the game, not only that but everything you both do for World Crisis', support of the people suffering from war, hunger, major issues. Especially those who struggle with sexuality and not being able to be who they are."

"We just want to help, that's something we especially love hearing back about it all, is that people are finally comfortable in their own skin."

"You're doing a damn good job, then."

You continue talking like that for a good long while, letting them both talk about everything they've done over the years.

Eventually, it quietens, and you check the time.

Glancing down at your watch, you urge them back up to the conference office once again.

"Shall we get back to work, ladies?"

--------------------------

In all of a few hours, you manage to set up a gameplan for the next two weeks of work before they have to head off to internationals, leaving you with something to do in the meantime.

A few times throughout those couple of hours, you catch Pernille watching you fidget with your hands.

You aren't totally sure why for a few minutes but then you notice it's only when you start picking at the impossible to keep off you flecks of spray paint.

It seems luck was not on your side in that moment because the moment Magda steps out of the room to go to the bathroom, she points it out.

"Much of painter?"

Freezing, you look up at the woman from your notebook.

"Pardon?"

She points to where you're yet again scratching at your hand.

"Just the paint you're picking off, you paint a lot?"

"Ah, a little, just getting into it actually. It's just something I do in my free time but damn is it messy."

"Oh, you should show us some of the stuff you do sometime."

Nodding, you take a sip of the water beside you.

You know the paint will get you caught one day, but spray paint is the glitter of the paint world.

It's impossible to keep off places you don't want it to be.

Then Magda enters the room and the conversation is over.

Thankfully, it feels like she's backed off you a bit, but you aren't confident it won't come back to bite you later.

Towards the end of it, Magda is scrolling on her phone as you type out some of the final pieces of information, ready to be sent off to the project managers on the partners end.

Noting the way she suddenly zones in on one particular post, you see with a glance her way, her liking and sharing a post about your newest work.

She doesn't seem surprised to see it, though, like it isn't new to her, the way she doesn't attempt to show Pernille even.

She definitely already saw it, as to whether she'd caught it this morning was another question.

You don't bring it up, though.

Instead, you continue typing and eventually, finish it with some wording changes at the request of the girls, and send it off.

"Annnnd we're done for the day, is there anything else we want done before you both head off to internationals? If you do have something come up later on, you're both welcome to call or message me directly and I can put it down to be done?"

They both shake their heads.

"Excellent, then I'll let you both head off, I can't imagine you aren't both sick of sitting for so long, rest up, and we'll talk later when the rep gets back to us."

Shaking both of their hands, they thank you profusely again and exit together.

Taking the moment to breathe finally, you look down at your hands, still little bits and pieces of flecked white and black paint, you groan to yourself, head falling into your hands.

"That was too fucking close, L/n. Get it together."

Luckily, they wouldn't be around to catch you any time in the next couple of weeks, you'd have plenty of time to do other stuff.

They weren't the ones you worry about catching you though, in fact, if it weren't for the face to face implications of it, you'd almost want them to know, but you can't let that happen yet.

It's the media, who'd have a field day at finding out the club's leading Creative Director is secretly a graffiti artist and the cause of the city's whispers, that you're worried about most.

You can only keep a low profile.

You've been getting cocky the past few weeks.

Now's the time to lay low.

Maybe put out a few smaller, less football focused art pieces, too.

Draw the attention away.

As much as you'd praised the attention, bring in too much of it and all of it collapses in on you.

Maybe one more mural before they go, though.

-------------------------

[kimabutch]

So I used to have intense cooking anxiety, to the point of frequently crying and/or having panic attacks in the kitchen — and now I love cooking and it rarely stresses me out. In case anyone else is going through that same struggle, a) I’m really sorry, that sucks immensely and don’t let anyone tell you it’s silly and b) here are a few rules I’ve made for myself that have helped me tremendously.

Never cook while hungry. Ever. It makes me sad, tired, and frustrated, which makes me try to go faster than I should, which just makes me more sad, tired, and frustrated. I keep small snacks on hand at all times.

Abandon the oppressive clutches of time. Trying to cook at a “normal” pace was one of the biggest sources of anxiety for me, so I don’t try to do that anymore. The recipe says it’ll take X minutes? Fake number, ignore it. It take a million years to cut a clove of garlic? That’s fine, I’ll get better over time. Other people are hungry? They can have one of my small snacks. Doing two things at once is too stressful? Do them one at a time, fuck efficiency. I’m feeling overwhelmed in the middle of a recipe? Almost all recipes can be completely paused in the middle of cooking by simply taking them off the heat, with very little effect on the final product.

Look up anything and everything. The internet sucks in many ways, but it has also allowed me to search for “skillet” or “scallion” dozens of times when I’ve forgotten, without anyone else knowing. If I’m anxious about making a substitution, I look it up. If I don’t know why something’s taking so long to cook, I look it up. There’s no shame in it.

My kitchen, my rules. And when I’m cooking in a kitchen, it temporarily becomes my kitchen. I kick people out if I need to. I put on my music or stay in blissful silence. I know not everyone can do this one, but even something like putting on noise-cancelling headphones and asking people not to talk to me as I cook has been helpful in decreasing my stress when sharing a kitchen.

Repeat recipes. Making something I already know I can make is so much less anxiety-inducing than making something new. It lets me actually practice the techniques they use and eventually, to tweak the recipe (something that used to make me super anxious), and eventually go faster or be more efficient. Anyone who doesn’t want to eat vegetable fried rice once a week for a whole month doesn’t need to eat my cooking.

Hope that helps someone and good luck out there!

[simpjaes]

One of my fav enha writers elix8r on here just announced that they were leaving and it just made me so sad to see someone leave due to people not appreciating their work and it made me think of you and how you’re literally one of my only fav writers who haven’t left this site and I hope you never do cause ily so much and I was wondering how we could show you more appreciation for giving us amazing fics? Like I know you’re loved by so many people and get good numbers on notes but still like I don’t want to lose you too so lmk if there’s anything else we can do for you to make you know we appreciate everything you put out here 🥺

; - ; time for transparency, and a HUGE rant. But first, thank you so much, im so honored you said this to me <3

there are plenty of ways you can support me! For instance, i do have a patreon set up for eventual writing [which will still be posted here too for the most part], that won't happen until i have more time outside of school. I also do have cash app! Which i prefer over ko-fi because i don't like my personal information shown ;-; you can ask me for my cash app tho!

Other ways include simply telling me how my fics make you feel, or if you like them. You are never obligated to tip me money for what I write, and i will alwwwaaays want feedback and reblogs!

that being said: am i leaving tumblr?

I've been weighing my thoughts lately, and i've boiled it down that i really don't know how I feel about being here after I started writing four years ago. I don't like the way people feel entitled to access my life, and who I am. [remember that blog who posted my selfies, and other writer's selfies just so people could see it? without our consent? example number 2398749382, truly]

I don't like the cliques [even if we all end up in one whether intentional or not, some of you are just fucking mean], i don't like the moral police, i don't like the performative activism, i don't like the copying even if on a tiny level, i don't like how people treat me like a celebrity. I don't like how I can't monitor closely for underage people who should not ever be looking at my blog, let alone reading work that i did NOT write for them. the main thing though, really is the entitlement from people, and the blatant nasty intentions a lot of people have here, especially between writers.

It's unbearable sometimes.

Every day, i have to be talked out of deleting both of my blogs and writing elsewhere specifically for the freedom to stop walking on egg shells. Then again, some days, like today, i like it here.

So, while I was recently just waiting to absolutely disappear without a word here, today I feel good. Today, I feel like staying wouldn't be too awful.

I just want to make something clear to people while I'm talking about it. If i stay here, i will never care so deeply about fan fiction, or people's opinions on it outside of feedback on my work. I care about it as a creative process, and a skill to be learned, that's it. I do not care what other people read, i do not care what they write, i don't care who jerks off to what. I will never, fucking ever take fan fiction so seriously that I feel hatred towards another person. unless it involves minors/underage people, of course. that's entirely different for me personally. For the most part, i genuinely only care about what I'm doing and what i can do better.

If i stay, i need people to stop expecting me to be a spokesperson on literally anything and everything. I am a person who is genuinely struggling just to get out of bed. I am a person who is studying and doing home work more than I would be working if I had a full time job right now. I do not have time or energy to care deeply the way others do, and even if I did have that time and energy, i put it on things i love. Like writing my own fics and not giving a fuck about what anyone else is doing.

This blog is my space. It's my world. I'm sick of expectations for me to make it anything more than what it is: a goddamn kpop smut blog.

This website is excruciating to open sometimes. but on days like today, i really appreciate it and love it here.

I will stay for now, but don't be shocked if, in the future, i leave without even saying my goodbyes. I have things outside of this blog that matter to me, and I will never let myself feel unhappy doing something i love, that's more for me than any other person in this world who wants to scream their opinions.

**edit 11/20** and with the AI apocalypse apparently happening here, it really does feel like....bad to be here. i don't want people who don't write to put themselves on the same level as real writers. y'know, the ones who put love and effort into their work. It's very upsetting to see the amount of people who don't care if it's being used.

especially like....knowing those fics get hella interaction because it seems readers, even if they don't know it, seem to value false writing over very real writing. oof. anyway

as long as my writing stays fun and positive, i will be staying.

[sharkboywrites]

Hi, can you do Halsin and Astarion comfort (plus any others you like writing for) x trans reader struggling with top dysphoria, like to the point they actively avoid face to face contact because no matter how well they bind they can still feel them :( I've been struggling a lot (expecially since I can't bind due to health reasons)

Top Dysphoria

Halsin and Astarion x dysphoric transmasc reader

A/N: Really excited to write this bc I know how much chest dysphoria sucks, but I’m actually working on getting a binder now that I’m 18, so this is good motivation to write. Sorry I’m getting to this late, but I hope you feel better anon

Trans male/transmasc reader, dysphoria, chest dysphoria, all descriptions of dysphoria are based off of author’s experience

Halsin

- Halsin is one of those people that can immediately tell when something is wrong

- He could see the difference in the way you started to carry yourself, all confidence gone and making yourself as small as possible

- Your chatter died down, now often becoming completely silent unless you had to speak

- When you’d see up camp for the night you’d quickly retreat to your tent, not fixing up your weapons or talking to anyone else in your party

- He decided to wait until everyone headed to bed to check on you

- When he came into your tent you were just laying there

- You weren’t sleeping, but you weren’t exactly doing anything either

- You were just staring at the wall of your tent, face stained from tears

- He didn’t say anything at first, just sat beside you

- He eventually pulled you into his arms, holding you in a warm and comforting embrace, a bear hug perhaps

- When you felt comfortable enough to start talking, you told him everything

- You told him how you felt, how it was making every single day hard, how it was affecting your mental health

- He listened to you patiently, wiping away any tears that formed

- He assured you that your body does not define you, that it doesn’t change the way he sees you, but that he also understands why it makes you so upset

- He held you until you fell asleep, before laying with you, patting your hair as he drifted to sleep too

Astarion

- Astarion loves to bicker, that’s one obvious thing

- He throws small insults and comments whenever he can find the opportunity

- And you always bickered back

- It was like a game between the two of you, an entertainment of sorts while you had to walk from place to place, fighting monster after monster

- But suddenly, you stopped bickering back

- You were quiet, keeping to yourself

- You almost seemed smaller somehow, like trying to hide yourself from everyone around you

- He’d never admit it, but he missed your friendly fighting

- So, he decided to check up on you

- In his own way of course

- He’s not good at emotions, but he still addresses the problem directly

- He does it in a whiny way of course, while you’re party stopped at an inn for the night

- He companies about losing his fighting buddy, how quiet you’ve become, but beneath all that it’s clear he’s really just worried about you

- But he feels even worse when he sees you start to tear up

- He sits next to you on the bed as you cry out your feelings, telling him about everything

- His comfort comes in the form of a hand on your shoulder and a nod every now and then

- Like we’ve established, he’s not good with emotions, but he’s still there to listen to you

- He doesn’t have a lot to say, but he gives you a few assuring words about how he doesn’t care about those things and your body doesn’t determine who you are

- He stays with you the whole night, helping you stay distracted, and reminding you that he’s here for you

[augustghosts]

Stewy Hosseini x female reader

A classic tale of fucking your ex at your friends wedding. We’ve all been there, I think.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+ pls, minors will be blocked! Not proofread which is defo a warning, lmk if you spot anything ive missed. Smut. Oral f!recieving and protected pinv. Alcohol and drugs are mentioned slightly.

Little authors note sorry: Hey everyone i am actually alive lol. 5 months later i return writing for someone new… not out of character for me. I watched succession for the first time recently (late asf to the party i know) and i read some amazing stewy fics so i thought i’d add my piece because i’m obsessed with him. Sorry to all my tommy miller babes on here, i swear i tried writing for him again but my inspiration for tommy fics seems to have gotten lost. I really struggled when i tried finishing my half way done tommy series lol. But when i started writing this one it just floooowed and i finished it in like a few hours. Maybe my tommy love will come back someday but for now…. This. Hope someone out there enjoys lol <3

You’ve felt eyes on you all night. Everywhere you go you end up meeting his eyes across the room. Eveytime you look over at him, he’s already looking. He should be the one that's embarrassed, you’ve caught him looking at you multiple times, but you’re always the one who ends up looking away first and feeling your skin heat with the embarrassment of being caught. While he shamelessly stares at you over the rim of his glass, that awful fucking smirk gracing his lips and he watches you squirm. Honestly, it’s kinda creepy. And you almost hope he approaches you so you can tell him that.

Towards the end of the night he starts to close in, starts inching closer to you. He starts making conversation with the people around you, people at the bar next to you, and eventually your friends. Asking them how they are, how it’s been such a long time. Then, he finally gets to you. He takes his time looking you over before he speaks and you’re determined not to be the first one to talk, so you let him stare. Both of you standing in silence for a few seconds before he finally speaks.

“You look great.”

”Thanks.” Keeping it simple seems safe. You want to tell him he looks good too because fuck, he does. He always does. He notices your eyes drifting over his suit and tie and he chuckles.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Uhm,” He trails off - pretends to think. “I’m at a fucking wedding, and i’m enjoying myself.”

”Yeah?” You ask, he nods in agreement. The way his eyebrows raise tells you he’s still being sarcastic, still mocking you. “Watching my every move all night is how you enjoy yourself?”

“Actually, yes.” He confirms. “Watching you squirm all night was pretty fun.”

”I wasn’t.” You attempt to defend yourself, downing your drink. “I was just-“

“I’ll get you another.” He cuts you off, snatching your glass out of your hand - not even bothering to ask. You almost try to protest, but you don’t see the point. You know him too well, you know how stubborn he is, once he gets an idea it’s hard for him to let it go. If the idea he’s got tonight is paying for your drinks, then so be it - who were you to complain. You sit down on the stool next to you, watching as Stewy makes the bartender laugh as he orders your drinks. You're kind of pissed that you still can’t figure him out sometimes, you know him better than most people - maybe better than anyone, but he still confuses you. It has been a while since you last saw him, but you conclude that he hasn’t changed much.

When he comes back with your drinks he puts yours down in front of you and asks: “Still your favorite?”

You nod, kind of pissed that he got it right. You try to convince yourself that he didn’t actually remember that small detail. That he’s just been watching you order them all night during your staring competition.

“So, how’s your family?” You ask, cringing at how lame you sound. You just don’t want to let him start a conversation you don’t want to have.

He smiles, because he knows what you're doing. “They’re fine. I still don’t see them much, but they’re good.”

”You’re still too busy to see your family?” You joke.

“Mhm,” His smile almost looks genuine as you joke with each other. “I’m always busy.”

“Busy stealing people's money?”

He laughs then, a genuine laugh that makes you laugh as well. God, you don’t want to admit that you missed him. But everyone else just seems so boring after him, you’ve never found the same thing you’d had with him with anyone else.

“You never really understood business did you?” He laughs.

“I understand perfectly.”

“Sure,” He agrees. “I explained it to you enough times.”

“Yeah, and bored me to death.”

”Is that why you broke up with me?”

His question completely catches you off guard and you almost choke on your drink. You almost want to ask him if he purposefully said that while you were taking a sip, but you’re too busy trying to supress your coughing.

“Jesus, it was just a question.” Stewy laughs at you again, his warm hand coming to rest on your back as he watches you almost choke.

“Fuck you.” You say pointedly, after getting yourself back under control. ”You know why we broke up. Also, I broke up with you?”

”You did.”

“Stewy, it was amicable.”

“Was it?” His face goes serious again and you instantly miss the sound of his laugh. You just sigh, taking another sip of your drink. This was exactly the conversation you didn’t want to have.

“I thought you said you were enjoying yourself,” You say after a few moments of silence. “Don’t ruin it now.”

”I lied.” He says. “I always hated those two, I can't believe they actually got married.”

”Match made in hell.” You agree, both of you laugh softly again.

“You know I also lied earlier when I said you looked great.” He says, surprising you. You brace yourself for whatever joke he’s going to make about you, you shouldn't have pissed him off, he can get mean when he’s pissed off. It’s not his fault, it’s just his defense mechanism - but nevertheless you brace yourself for his comment - and he surprises you again by saying: “You look fucking incredible.”

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. You opt for another sip of your drink instead and he watches you in amusement.

“I only came because I hoped you would be here,” He continued. You still can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, that damned smirk on his face makes you think he’s making fun of you, but those big brown eyes look so sincere.

“Stewy, stop.” You sigh.

“Come on, baby.” He murmurs, he leans forward in his chair and places his hand on your knee. The nickname makes you tense up. Makes a familiar heat spread through you. “Let me get you another drink and take you up to my room.”

Fuck. He’s fucking good at this, and he knows it. He knows exactly how to get you. You’re trying to think, but the alcohol and the way his thumb is rubbing your knee is clouding your mind. He waits patiently, watching as you look down at his hand and back up to his face. Your eyes stop at his lips before meeting his gaze.

“Alright,” You say, you swear you can actually see his eyes light up. “Go get me another drink and show me your room. Then I'll decide.”

“You got it.” He grins and practically jumps out of his seat. When he returns he holds out his hand to help you off your stool, the heels you decided to wear and the drinks weren’t a good match. He hands you your drink, although you don’t really want it now. His hand finds its place on the small of your back and a fire lights up somewhere inside of you. His touch feels so familiar - comforting. He leads you out of the bar and to the elevators. Punching in the right number before the doors close, leaving you both alone in the small space. It suddenly feels too quiet.

You want to touch him, but once again you don’t want to be the one to make the first move. You don't want him to know how desperate you are for him, although you think he already knows. He’s watching you in silence, his eyes dark and wanting. A look you’ve seen a million times before - a look that makes you excited. The elevator ride is short, Stewy isn’t the type to kiss you in an elevator, and you know that, so you’re not disappointed when the doors open and he hasn’t touched you or said a word.

He gestures for you to leave first, putting his hand on the door so they don’t close on you, or him. Some people would find this strange, the silence, but it’s a game you’ve both played with each other before. A game you both enjoy. He guides you to his room with a hand on your back, just like before. When he unlocks the door and opens it for you, you suppress a gasp. As usual, Stewy needs to have the best of the best. The bride and groom's room probably isn’t even this nice. They probably couldn’t afford it - Stewy can.

“Well?” His voice sounds from behind you.

“Hm?”

”What do you think? You said you would decide when you saw the room. Is it good enough for you?”

”Uhm,” You pretend to think as you set your drink down on the dresser, turning around to dramatically inspect the room. It earns a playful eye roll from Stewy. He knows what impresses you and he knows he already has you. He already had you down at the bar.

“I think it’s okay.” You conclude, turning to face him. He hums in sarcastic agreement, looking you up and down. He’s playing the game again, who is going to end it first. Who is going to lose. You don’t like losing, and neither does he. But honestly, haven’t you already lost? He has you in his room for christ sake. He has you standing in front of him, already dripping and all he’s done is touch your leg a little and look at you the right way. So you put aside your pride and step towards him, you bring your hands up to his cheeks and roughly bring his face down to your, finally connecting your lips.

His hands immediately find their home at your hips, pulling you tightly against him. The kiss immediately turns from an innocent kiss to a hungry and passionate one, his tongue dominating your mouth. You both know each other's bodies so well, there's no need for taking it slow or asking questions.

“Fuck, Stewy.” You sigh as he backs you towards the bed, gently setting you down and climbing over you. Kissing every inch of your skin.

“God, I missed that.” He groans, marveling over the way you sigh his name. “I missed you, baby. I can admit it. I want you so badly.”

You moan softly at his words, at the way his lips feel on your neck - at how right this feels. You had missed him too. He catches you off guard when he pulls away to ask, ”Have you been fucking other people?”

“Sorry?” You giggle, “Why are you asking me that now?”

”Have you?” He presses.

“I ju- maybe.” You stutter, already missing his lips.

”Maybe?”

”I know you’ve been fucking as well.” You accuse, suddenly defensive. You push yourself up onto your elbows, despite still being trapped underneath him.

“Yeah, I have.” He says coolly.

“So?” You ask, irritated. Why was he doing this?

“So, none of them were as good as you.” His words earn an eye roll from you. “Nothing can compare to this pussy.” He adds, his hand sliding down to roughly grip your thigh and bring it over his waist. Oh, shit. His half hard cock is pressing perfectly against your pussy in this new position, the material of your dress and his suit pants keeping you apart. “And, i bet none of those guys fucked you the way i do.” One of his hands comes up to grip your chin, his other keeping him above you. He forces you to look him in the eyes as he asks, “Did they?”

“No.” You practically squeak. “None of them were like you. No one is like you, Stewy.”

You’re not even lying, after having sex with Stewy for so long nothing compared. You had gotten accustomed to a man who knew what he was doing, to a man who was generous in bed. You had gotten used to a man who could make you cum. No one had achieved that after him. Your answer obviously pleases him, he grins and leans down to kiss you again.

He ends the kiss and stands up leaving you spread out on the bed, you whine underneath him, chasing for more. He ignores you and slips off his suit jacket. He makes a show of undoing the top button of his shirt and loosening his sleeves in order to push them up to his elbows. Fuck, he looks so good. You almost want to tell him, but you don;t need to. He can see the way you're watching him, that look in your eye. He knows what you look like when you’re turned on - and this is it. He grabs your thighs and pushes your dress up to your waist, getting a good look before sliding your panties down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder somewhere.

“I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve, baby. I know what you need. I can’t wait to taste you.” He rambles as you whimper in anticipation, he presses a kiss to your ankle as he watches you buck your hips.

He has his mouth on you before you can respond. Just as you remember, he is painfully and infuriatingly good at it. He still eats pussy like it's his second nature. He still looks up at you through his gorgeous lashes as he traces your clit with his tongue. He has to hold back from grinning against you as you writhe and whimper. He groans as you sigh his name and run your hand through his hair. You remember how much you love it when he’s like this, when he's animalistic and loses his composure.

Your legs tighten around his head as he digs his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. It’s fucking embarassing how quickly you barrel towards your climax, but it has been a while. And no one else devours you like this, no one else is this good. You should have expected it. He recognizes it immediately, breaking away from you for a second to speak.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

“Yes! Please, Stew.” You moan, your hands grabbing at his hair attempting to push him back down. He smiles wickedly, licking his lips as he watches you.

“God, I love it when you beg for me.” He mumbles before diving back in, allowing you to push his head down and maneuver him.

"Please make me come," you groan, arching your back. “I'm so close, don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t stop, he continues to lap at you and work you though your orgasm as you come against his mouth. His beard delightfully scratches your sensitive skin, leaving behind a delicious burning feeling. He’s painfully hard now, after watching you come and hearing you moan his name. You begin to push at his head when you come down, usually he would tease you a little now, knowing how sensitive you are and make the most of it. But he’s so fucking desprate for you, he has been all night. He’s been dreaming about being inside of you for hours now.

He’s instantly on his feet, undoing his belt and undressing. You follow suit, weakly sitting up - doing the best your legs can do when they feel like jelly, you lift your dress over your head and throw it on the floor with his clothes. He’s climbing back on top of you, kissing you hungrily. His lips and chin are still wet with your juices and you moan into his mouth as you taste yourself on his lips.

“How do you want me?” You ask breathlessly, fully prepared to submit to him- to do whatever he asks.

“Fuck,” He groans at your words, having to pause for a second. “Can you turn over for me?”

You smile, leaning up to kiss him one more time before turning over and crawling to the middle of the bed, pushing yourself up onto your knees and holding yourself up on your elbows, so your back is deliciously arched the way you know he likes. You grin as you hear him groan behind you, his hand petting your ass before he delivers a light slap to it. He steps away from you and you hear the rustling of a condom wrapper, did he have that in his fucking pocket? His words from earlier repeat in your head, ‘I only came because I hoped you would be here.’

“Plese fuck me, Stewy.” You moan softly, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. “I need you.”

”How bad?” He teases. The head of his cock is ever so slightly pressing against your entrance, he’s hardly holding back as he waits for your answer, pushing in slightly.

“So bad,” You sigh, pushing back on him so he slips easily inside of you. You both moan loudly, you love that he’s so loud and shameless in bed. He stays still once he’s bottomed out.

“Yeah?” He says through gritted teeth.

“Yes! Please move. I need to be fucked properly, only you can do it.”

The sound he makes behind you is heavenly, you knew that would work. He pulls out of you before pushing back in slowly. He always does this, he starts slow and then builds up to a bruising pace. All you can do is whimper beneath him and beg for him to fuck you faster. Your pussy sucks him in greedily, his cock pushing against that spongy spot inside of you with every thrust.

“You take me so fucking well. Like you were fucking made for me.” His voice is deep and raw.

”I think I am,” You moan. “You feel so fucking good!”

“Are you gonna come for me again, sweetheart? Gonna soak my cock?”

All you can do is furiously nod your head and moan beneath him, the sounds of your pussy squelching as he fucks you is almost embarassing. You don’t have time to think about it because he’s pulling out of you and gently flipping you over onto your back. He lifts your legs and rests his knees on the bed, throwing your feet over his shoulders and he leans over you. He guides his cock back into you and dives down to kiss you, his tongue pushing past your lips in a messy kiss. You’re both moaning into each other's mouths, not minding when your teeth momentarily clack together.

“Come on gorgeous,” He groans, he’s breathless - pressing kisses to your face between his words. You can tell he’s close too. “Come for me. Squeeze my cock. Let me fucking have it.”

He feels you tighten around him as you come, his name leaving your lips like a fucking prayer. Your hands tightening around his neck, nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, that’s it. You look so beautiful, baby.” He talks you through it, still fucking you as you come around him.

“Oh my god,” You moan. “Come inside of me, Stewy.”

You know he’s wearing a condom, but the dirty talk is hot. He thinks so too, because that's all it takes for him to come. His head is buried in your neck, his teeth biting into the soft skin under your ear. No doubt leaving a mark, but you’ll worry about that tomorrow. Right now all you can think about is how hot he sounds when he comes, you love that he isn’t quiet, that he isn’t afraid to groan your name into your neck.

He stays still for a second, lifting his head and kissing you - gently this time, before he pulls out. You rest for a minute while he discards the condom. You hear rustling and sniffing while he’s in the bathroom and you almost want to yell out to him - this is why we broke up. But you ignore it, getting up from the bed and breezing past him as he leaves the bathroom. You close the door behind you, taking the hotel robe off the back of the door and cleaning yourself up, doing what you need to do. You wonder if you should shower, but decide you should probably go back to your own room to do that.

When you leave the bathroom he’s sitting in the bed under the covers, the tv remote in his hand. Your dress and underwear have been picked up and folded on the chair beside the bed. It makes you smile, how can someone be so thoughtful but so selfish at the same time. That’s why you broke up, you need to keep reminding yourself.

“So, I guess I'm gonna go back to my own room.” You say as you gather your things. You’re on your way back to the bathroom with your clothes when he speaks up.

“Okay,” He says, respecting your decision. “Why?”

”Why?” You repeat, stopping your tracks. “Don’t you want me to go?”

”No. I want you to watch tv with me.”

”Seriously?” You laugh before you realize he’s being serious.

“Yeah, seriously.” His face is impassive, and hard to read. But you can’t resist those big brown eyes and you drop your clothes back onto the floor and slip into bed with him.

“Hey,” He whines as he looks at your dress. “I picked that up and folded it for you and you just threw it on the floor again.”

“Sorry, how rude of me.” You laugh at the mock pout on his face. You’ve sat pretty far away from him and he eyes the space between you.

“Come here.” He says lifting up his arm so you can cuddle into his side. God, you shouldn’t be doing this, you should have left. But he smells good and this bed is so comfortable.

“Will you stay the night here?” He asks quietly

”I shouldn’t.” You sigh.

“I know.” He agrees.

Of course you end up staying the night, Stewy is very convincing. With his promise of round two and a warm shower in the morning, it’s hard to resist. He also promises an expensive breakfast after the shower, but he says, ‘only if you behave yourself.’ You spend the whole night talking and laughing with him. Not only is he the best fuck you’ve ever had, he’s also the funniest person on earth. He’s got the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen but he’s also the biggest assole you’ve ever met. He’s so confusing, but that night you decide that maybe taking a little more time to try and figure him out won’t be so bad - only time will tell.

[hellothisisangle]

It means a lot personally to see you posting again. To see an artist and writer come back to the public at their own pace gives me hope for myself. I haven’t been able to draw or write anything consistently for 4 years, and while I still don’t feel ready, I feel less fated to be this way permanently now. Thank you for taking time for yourself, and thank you for coming back all the same.

Thanks for sharing! I struggled a lot when I initially stopped drawing due to some personal extreme circumstances. Because I felt like there was a lot of pressure and expectations to continue, on top of my financial stability being dependent on it, which made what I pushed myself to create that much worse- the headspace made everything really ugly to me. I couldn’t even enjoy and read other comics, because I would over-analyze them.

So how could I just disappear? Was that even an option? Start new? With what? Though I did fully step back for a few years, and it did help, I always had my own disappointments looming over me- the things I didn’t accomplish- basically a reflection of this cycle of myself- beginning things and never finishing them.

I distracted myself with all sorts of things, but when I eventually was more stable I randomly picked up my janky 10-year old tablet and just tried to draw something. It turned out better than I expected considering I hadn’t picked up a pencil in years. So I did another thing. And another. I remembered why I liked drawing so much. The hardest part was actually getting online and sharing. I was afraid I’d slip back into this pit of needing “enough” attention from the things I posted. But my art is finally something I do for myself. I loved it again.

I really genuinely hope anyone who struggles with this too can find something that triggers those feelings as well!

[akutasoda]

can you do a dazai, atsushi, chuuya x reader who is similiar to homura akemi from madoka magica? like, how the reader knew them and their past in previous timelines and has been trying to save them from dying multiple times?

to the ends of time

synopsis - you've tried so hard to keep them with you, maybe this time it works in your favour

includes - atsushi, dazai, chuuya

warnings - gn!reader, angst with comfort, fluff?, mention of death and injury, dazai things, wc - 834

a/n: i actually read this after re-watching madoka magica haha

they were your best friend. practically inseperable and people often joked that you two came as a package, one never straying too far from the other. and it was true. but it was almost comical how fate would rip apart the bond between two people.

the only thing that ever came in between the two of you was their death. it ripped them straight from your arms literally or figuratively. it stripped you of your relationship and left you feeling down constantly, feeling as though you never could see them again. but you were still in denial.

the denial led you to believe they were still out there somewhere waiting for you. and that denial led you to the book. it was your escape, your way into gaining back what you had lost and you'd be dammed if you didn't try and start again.

and therefore you spent ages travelling timelines. each and every time something went wrong, they were ripped from your life again and again. feeling more painful each time until you started giving up. you started feeling as thoigh nothing could be done to change the fate that you feared.

your resolve was tested but as you entered yet again another timeline something felt different. you had lost track of which ones you had travelled and therefore didn't know the one you were in but it felt right in some way. and you were right.

atsushi nakajima ★↷

you had yet again found atsushi working for the agency. however this time you wanted to stay distant as you feared another failure. even if you were absolutely determined to give this one last shot you didn't want it going south.

and soon the very familiar scene replayed in front of you and from time and time again you knew what didn't work. you knew what wouldn't stop atsushi from dying in this mission and yet you were so desperately trying to find what prevented that.

so you gave it one last effort, trying a brand new approach and hoping for the best. and to your absolute surprise it worked. you had saved him in this timeline, you could finally be back with atsushi.

you finally let yourself get close to him again and eventually when he asked why you were always so protective you explained. not the book, just you trying over and over to finally be with him again. and he felt pity, he was grateful you saved him but pity that he had caused you so much struggling. but that didn't seem to matter anymore to you as right here and now you could hug atsushi and know that no time soon wouldhe be ripped away from you.

osamu dazai ★↷

you knew dazai. better than anyone else even though sometimes it did feel like you barely knew him. but you did know him well enough to know how he thought when it came to certain topics. one of which concerned you deeply and when your fears were proved right you never felt so hurt.

and that was why you tried again and again to convince him not to. most thought he was joking but you knew deep down that without intervention he truly would. so you were determined to stop him, stop him from the fate he thought he was worthy off because he deserved better.

and that was a reason you didn't give up, you wanted to save him so much. and now here he was, safely in your arms after you convinced him not to end it. tears flowed from both parties and in that moment you were glad you didn't give up and he was glad you had rescued him.

he knew from the start that you were trying again and agian to save him, so maybe that's why he felt more and more compelled to save himself. to listen to you. as this way he could be with someone he loves and not cause you any suffering or grief. afterall he wants to go without being a burden on anyone.

chuuya nakahara ★↷

you realised saving chuuya was very much a right person, right time kind of thing. what made it that much more painful originally was knowing there was nothing you could do. you hated corruption. you always discouraged him using it unless absolutely necessary as only one person could truly stop it.

so you had tried over and over to gett dazai there in time and you slowly started giving up as you really couldn't bare seeing chuuya struggle until his final moments. but somehow, you managed it. perhaps some small details had changed but it enabled dazai to get there in time.

and dazai knew, of course he did, but you were thankful he left as soon as he arrived. he left you with chuuya as you held his exhausted form as you cried. you had finally managed to save him. you could finally be here with him.

[mysticheathenn]

What Soul Tribe is Coming in?

Hi there! Remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

The extended Patreon Members reading includes: (Both tiers)

What Soul Tribe is Coming in for You?

What will your Dynamic be like?

How and When Will You Meet?

Pile l:

What is your current tribe like? (Tarot: 8 of Wands (reversed), Death (reversed), Temperance, 7 of Pentacles)

Garbage! I’m sorry to say this pile 1 but your friends aren’t your friends and I think deep down you know this too. For some of you, your friends don’t like to see you win. Every time you mention something that you have accomplished or you did something or anything good for yourself they always feel as if they have to always one up you or try to diminish your light pile 1. If they aren’t diminishing your light, they are always trying to make sure you don’t change and hinder any progress you want to make for yourself. An example would be when you go on a diet, wanting to lose weight and every time you go out it’s always somewhere not healthy and they try to “It’s only a small fry”  or even do that dumb toxic shit where you’re eating a chicken caesar wrap while they have burger king and they go “Hmmm burger, wish you could have this don’t you.” I’m hearing for some of you, you’re the friend they always go to for advice or help but when you need something they are miraculously not there for you, or they don’t even try to give you any kind of good advice. Please know these are not your friends pile 1. I don’t know why you stay but you deserve better. I hope your tribe coming in is better for you.

What do you want out of the people around you? (Intuitive Message: Support & Accountability)

Support is the first word I heard from your guides that you want out of the people around you currently and for more supportive people to come into your life. Some of you may be struggling with depression and anxiety. I’m even hearing having suicidal tendencies that you sometimes have if not late at night sometimes throughout the day whenever you are feeling your lowest not having anyone to confide in. For a few of you, I’m hearing you want accountability from your friends as well. This may go both ways where you want your friends to hold themselves accountable for the sh!tty things they do and say toward you and other people. Maybe you have those delulu friends who think cheating is okay because they are female, and they have the mindset of men ain’t shit and they do it too. Maybe some of you need friends who will hold you accountable for your actions because you want to be a better person whether that’s having a glow-up or just needing to know your shit stinks too and you can’t be out here acting any kind of way.

Patreon Member Extended Reading (Both tiers) Pile ll:

What is your current tribe like? (Tarot: 8 of Cups, 2 of Swords (reversed), 9 of Cups, 8 of Cups, Queen of Cups (bottom of deck))

Before I start your reading pile 2 I just want to say in my best Mr. Rogers voice “I’m proud of you, I hope you know that.” This is my pile that has either no friends or very few people they can call friends in their lives if that. Some of you may call the few people in your life buddies or acquaintances which is nothing wrong with that because, in today's society, everybody is a friend because people feel some type of way by anything lower than that title. Some of you recently cut off your friends with the 2 of swords card, maybe for a while you didn’t want to but eventually, you just got to a place where you felt “You can do bad all by yourself.” I sense the loneliness from this pile because you have no to very few friends but at the end of the day you’re trying to stand on business with the Queen of Cups because you know your worth. You know that being alone is better than having fake friends all around you. This message is for a very few of you when I say few I mean less than 10 but some of you could have been the “problem” in your friend's group. Maybe you didn’t realize how high of a pedestal you placed your standards on that nobody can reach it not even god himself. Maybe you’re the type who once someone does even the smallest inconvenience you cut them off because you don’t have time for drama. While again good for you, it’s okay to let people be human and mess up from time to time for small petty things that aren’t disrespectful or intentional (meaning anyone could have made that small mistake).

What do you want out of the people around you? (Tarot: the High Priestess (reversed), (The Hanged Man (reversed), Knight of Swords, Strength (reverse), 7 of Pentacles, & 4 of Swords)

“G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S” I’m hearing the song Glamorous by Fergie. I’m not only hearing that but I’m seeing it as well you flying high taking trips on your boss babe sh!t. You don’t want anyone around you who isn’t trying to get their life together pile 2. If you aren’t trying to get a bag, better yourself, or do something with their lives you want nothing to do with them. Another song coming through for you is Latto – “It’s Givin” “It's givin' boss bitch (Boss bitch), It's givin' boss b!tch (Boss b!tch, it's givin'), It's givin' bad b!tch (Bad b!tch), Never ever play me like I'm average.” You honestly would rather be alone than let another person come and play in your face when you have so much going for you or want to bring in so much into your life pile 2.

Patreon Member Extended Reading (Both tiers)

Pile lll:

What is your current tribe like? (Tarot: 4 of Cups (reversed), Knight of Wands, Ace of Cups (reversed), The Fool, Queen of Swords (reversed),  9 of Cups (bottom of deck))

Unlike pile 1 your pile is neutral. It’s not bad nor good, it’s just the way it is. I’m hearing the song “The Way it is” by Bruce Hornsby  the lyrics go “That's just the way it is Some things will never change That's just the way it is Ah, but don't you believe them.” Pile 2 there may be a rift happening in your current soul tribe. You’re literally the medium group out of all 3 groups. Pile 1 needs to change friends, Pile 2 is their own boss babe best friend, and you’re in limbo with your friends' group. You have new beginnings and things are changing for the best for you but your friends and you are either a) not seeing eye to eye on things anymore that you used to bond over because you’ve leveled up mentally, physically, or emotionally, or b) You’re in different stages in your life and just drifting apart because it’s time. This pile feels like you have had most of your friends for a long time, for some of you, you may have had a few of your friends since middle or high school and you don’t want that friendship to end because the history you share with this person and possibly because you’re afraid of any new friends coming in. You fear untouched territory when it comes to friends, you want familiarity and nothing is feeling familiar to you anymore because you are leveling up. But unfortunately pile 2 this shift is inevitable, it’s bound to happen either now or later on at some point and I’m sensing if you keep progressing this shift from happening you are bound to but heads drastically and dramatically where life will force you to end things with your current group. It’s time for you to be open to new adventures and people. It’s safe and okay to let others in your life. “No new friends” by DJ Khaled ft Drake is playing in my head. This maybe for a select few of you but some of you maybe the type of friend who wants to bring their friends for the ride on this new path you’re going on similar to how rappers always bring their day one friends on the ride because they want to see them eat and be taken care of because you feel they deserve it after all you guys had to go through to make it.

What do you want out of the people around you? (Tarot: 2 of Cups, The Moon, Queen of Wands, Knight of Swords (reversed))

Instead of the question “What does pile 3 want from the people around them” I kept wanting to say “What does pile 3 need from the pile people around them?” and the phrase equal partnership came to mind when the 2 of cups came out as the first card. You need people who are going to also want to do action for themselves and not just get a leg up from you and your success or soon-to-have success if you aren’t there yet. With the moon card there’s something that you aren’t seeing with your current group of friends that the universe (god, allah, etc) is trying not to let happen as mentioned before a dramatic falling out where you and your current friend group will get hurt. The song No Hook by Latto where she speaks on her getting money and her whole family started acting funny comes to mind. If I’m being honest 21 Savage ft Post Malone song “All my Friends” is perfect for this group the lyrics go, “Lost a few friends chasin' hand money (On God) Had the same friends when I was bummy (Straight up) They should've went and did stand-up 'Cause when the money come, n*ggas act funny.” You need friends who are on the same level as you pile 2 this is in no shape or form elitist but more so you’re not seeing that the more success you get in your life the people you call friends are going to slowly start acting entitled to your new-found abundance and success and you deserve better than that. You deserve people who will be inspired that you did something awesome for yourself and want to do the same for themselves without clinging onto you or trying to stand in the same spot as you without doing anything for themselves except exist. Cadi B “Don’t be the why her type of b!tch, be the how can I get next to her and be like her type a b!tch”

Patreon Member Extended Reading (Both tiers)

Early Release

Thank you for checking out this Pick-a-Card reading. Be sure to check out the rest on Patreon.

I appreciate all of you, until the next reading.

Stay Safe and Be Blessed.

[istoleyoursk1n]

Hello and Happy Holidays (whatever you might celebrate)! If you have time, could you please write something about the BG3 Companions (or specifically Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Astarion and Karlach if there's too many) with a disabled reader who feels insecure about it? I personally am autistic and have a few physical disabilities so I need help with some things, am very clumsy and can struggle in social situations. Bonus points if you include things like them being protective over the reader because I personally have weak bones and chronic pain because of my disabilities so I'd like to think they'd be extra protective 🥰

Thank you so so much, I hope you have a wonderful 2024 ahead of you!

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How they would react to a Tav who is insecure about their disabilities

(Happy holidays to you too! I hope you enjoy your new year!)

.

.

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

The bully

He wasn't aware of it at first so he came off as plain mean. He’d tease you for the little things you struggle with during the early moments of you two together but don't worry, he gets better.

The more he starts to care for you, the more he realizes that perhaps teasing you for things you clearly struggle with isn't something he should be doing. Especially if he's starting to value you and how you feel.

It's subtle at first, he quits most if not all his mockery towards you and usually speaks up in situations where you cannot. He eventually comes to do all the talking for you both.

Comes around to ask what you’re particularly struggling with to better understand you. And help you with such struggles in the near future.

While he used to laugh at you every time you fell/tipped something over, he finally started helping you up, disregarding said mistake as a “happy little accident”.

He’s surprisingly far more forgiving and patient with you, of course, there's the usual snarky remark but it's never directed toward whatever disability you possess.

Further into your relationship, he straight up starts defending you if anyone but he decides to laugh at your struggles. He’d verbally assault them with words that even make you shake.

It's difficult to stop the man once he starts telling off someone, at least it's entertaining, and hey! He’s doing it for you.

Further along the line, he’d finally come around to apologizing for his former attitude towards you, understanding that approaching you in such a way was wrong of him given your circumstance. He shouldn't have taken advantage of that.

Regardless, now you have a sassy lover who's quick to snap at anyone who tries to make fun of you.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

Incredibly understanding that it's almost startling for you.

It doesn't take long for him to notice what you're struggling with and is quick to help out without having to make mention of whatever disability you possess.

He doesn’t judge you at all despite your struggles, already noting your worth to him and that you are not inconveniencing him in any way.

He was actually the first to accommodate your disabilities, defending you if the others become too ignorant of them.

He’s dealt with people of all shapes and sizes, it isn't his first time handling people who need extra special care nor is he burdened by it.

He’ll make it very clear to you that you don't have to feel any shame in asking for help or if you simply can't do a certain task, he’ll gladly be there for you!

And hey! There's no need to feel about being clumsy every now and then. He's certainly knocked a few books off shelves due to his new horns. You both can laugh at each other’s clumsy little accidents together.

If anything, he hardly sees your disability as something abnormal. Barely even reminds you about it to make you feel more comfortable with yourself.

He’s always linking his arm with yours whenever you struggle with walking long distances, walking slower than usual just to make sure that you can keep up and feel included.

Overall, he’s very sweet and sympathetic when it comes to your condition, he doesn't even have to be your lover to make sure you're always being tended to.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

Didn't even realize it at first.

He just thought you were clumsy/weaker than most but it wasn't something he felt bothered by. You provide your own form of help for the group every now and then and that's already valuable enough.

It would take him a while to realize or you’d have to tell him yourself but eventually he’d come to ask you directly if you have *insert condition*.

After which, he's surprisingly understanding. That would honestly explain a lot for him.

He wouldn't pay much attention to you until you both start growing closer, that's when he starts offering his own assistance in regards to your condition.

He's not the best when it comes to medical treatment but hey! Guess what he does have? Magic!

And with your permission, he’d gladly use said magic to make your situation more comfortable/easier for you to handle.

He's quick to offer his help in tasks that he sees you struggling with whether that be with the use of his magic or figuring out ways for you to do said task on your own without struggling as much.

He goes out of his way to better understand your condition and does his own in-depth research about it.

You've never seen someone so stressed whenever you experience mild chronic pain. In moments, he's all over you like a worried mother hen. It's almost funny to watch if you weren’t in pain and struggling right now.

He's the one who worries the most if he sees you doing a mundane task you tend to struggle with. He has to be certain that he's at least there to help you if ever you end up hurting yourself.

Similar to Astarion, he ends up taking control of most conversations in social gatherings if you're having a hard time doing it yourself.

: ̗̀➛ KARLACH

Didn't notice it at first, she simply thought you needed the occasional hand but that was all.

You’d probably have to directly tell her about whatever condition you may have if you ever wish for her to actually figure it out.

Even if you don't tell her, she’s still assisting you here and there whenever possible. She doesn't even need to know about your disabilities to be accommodating.

If she does find out about it, she’s shocked at first if not slightly worried that she may have come across as overwhelming to you.

Regardless, she’s still awfully kind to you, never once dismissing your struggles.

A bit concerned about touching you/being a bit too rough for her own good but she handles you as gently as she possibly can.

Would probably (or already has) beaten the shit out of anyone who's dared undermine you for your struggles.

She will carry you around whenever whatever internal pain you’re feeling gets too much, she has no problem with doing so for hours! Won't even ask for much in return.

Having you in her arms is a reward enough! Besides, you both seem to be having a blast.

No worries if you have a hard time processing social situations, she's there to cut in for you! Unprompted as well, she might as well be rambling to the unfortunate soul who decided to confront you two.

: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART

She’s a cleric, she’d take notice of it quicker than most.

You did save her from that nautiloid pod so she sees no reason why she shouldn't be helping you with your condition.

She does try to relieve whatever pain you feel, especially if your chronic pains are getting too much for you to bear.

Her treatments don't last permanently but they are enough to make you feel far more comfortable in the state your are in.

She doesn't mind helping you with tasks she sees you struggling with, you can tell she's being as careful as possible when it comes to you.

She checks up on you whenever she has the time, especially if she grows to trust you. She constantly makes sure that you’re well enough to continue on with the journey or if you need to stay in camp for a while.

Gives you surprisingly good advice on how to treat/cope with the things you struggle with, especially if it comes to medical struggles. Other than that, she's there when you need her.

She's stern in dismissing anyone who tries to mock or make fun of you for your struggles, her words are enough to make anyone feel bad for even trying.

She likes keeping you close whenever possible, not just because she likes you but to also make sure she can give you immediate care whenever you're suddenly in pain.

Always asks whether or not you are capable of doing certain tasks so you have the freedom to do certain things by yourself.

But, she also ensures that you don't feel bad for depending too much on her.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

Quickly comes to your aid when he sees you struggling, with or without the knowledge of your condition.

He’s always willing to help you, you needing extra assistance wouldn't burden the man at all.

As big and tough as he may be, he's surprisingly gentle, making sure that when he holds you, he does with the utmost care.

If you are having difficulty with speaking and/or being around social gatherings? No worries! You don't have to ask at all, he’d kindly do the talking for you.

Of course, he’d make sure he’d hear what you’d like to say first before relaying the words to whoever both of you were speaking to.

If said social situations get too much, he’s more than willing to get you both out of it in favor of some peaceful quiet time in nature.

He probably knows a few remedies to help lessen the pain that comes with your condition, ensuring that you always have time to rest and relax as to not push your body too much.

Likely the most protective of you among the others mentioned, comes with the merged animal-like nature he obtained.

He’s never far from you at all, always lending a hand to make sure you have something to hold onto at all times. Besides, no one dares to mess with you when you have someone as towering as Halsin by you.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

[abyssalzones]

[1/3] Hello! My apologies, I'm not sure how the best way to approach this is, so I hope you'll bear with me. I have been struggling with some thoughts surrounding Ford and Fiddleford that I haven't really been sure how to parse, and I am genuinely interested in your opinion. I mean this in good faith, an open mind to learn, and from the perspective of someone who really enjoys your depictions of these two characters. Especially in your review/analysis of the Book of Bill, I really agree with the way you describe Fiddleford's significance to Ford and how their relationship with each other is.

I'm going to keep this fairly short and simple because my feelings on it are honestly not that complex, but I do really appreciate you coming to me with an open mind and explaining your own perspective. The truth is that I really don't think anything Bill did to Ford is equivalent to what Ford did to Fiddleford- which is not to say we're setting a standard for abuse at "the most extreme shit ever", but more that... I just don't see any evidence for it, whether that's textually or thematically.

Don't get me wrong- Ford definitely treated Fiddleford unfairly at certain points in the story. It's a major part of why their reunion feels all the more satisfying... but I think that has less to do with Ford not respecting Fiddleford and can be attributed largely to Bill's manipulation driving a wedge between them both. Ford and Fiddleford are, objectively speaking, equal partners: they were roommates in college, Fiddleford drove up to Oregon and stayed of his own accord to help Ford with what would become their portal project, and when shit gets to be too much, Fiddleford leaves. It's clear that even outside of a romantic interpretation they make for very good friends, something that to me is clearly not just a boss-employee relationship.

So the biggest faults in how Ford treats Fiddleford boil down to two things: a lack of trust ingrained from childhood bullying, and the evilest motherfucker in the world sitting on his shoulder and whispering lies into his ear. When Ford gives Fiddleford a stack of equations to work on, he's working himself to death just as hard if not harder. When he mixes up his Cubic's cube, he's playfully messing with him and potentially not understanding that it really is bothering him (if it is.) And later, when things start to truly unravel, Ford's rash behavior (leaving him at the diner, yelling WELL FINE I DON'T NEED YOU I DON'T NEED ANYONE >:(, etc) it's Bill's influence well and truly consuming him and successfully isolating him from someone he had a once-healthy relationship with. hell, even in the journal's small segment about the "a better world" dimension, Fiddleford and Ford eventually make up and become business partners after the success of their portal project, regardless of everything that happened between them- with a way shorter timeframe between those things than in canon.

Idk I just think that while it's true Ford has flaws I think that's true of... any other character on earth? and I just personally can't see a reading of their dynamic that's abusive being true. and that's not only for textual, canonical reasons but a matter of framing between Bill & Ford vs Fidds & Ford. I think "well abused people are capable of abuse too!" is a fair point to make but in this context seems superfluous and really committed to this idea that Ford is just as bad of a person as Bill, or something, that often happens with abuse victims in or out of fiction.

but that's just me

[kidovna]

Do you have any tips on getting better at anatomy and dimension? You always draw such beautiful, dynamic and expressive people!! So i was wondering if you have any tips for people who struggle with that? I also love whenever you share your life drawings because your sketches always look so smooth and effortless, and I would really like to learn but I have no idea where to start lol. I know you're probably sick of being asked this but I really look up to your art!

hello! i’m so honoured, thank you! i would normally say “live sketching is the best way to improve!” but you’ve already seen my live sketches so ill see if i can list down all the other things that helped me with my art journey:

using references - online, but also references of yourself (or someone you know who can do it for you). you are going to be able to get exact references to what you want to draw when you pose for it yourself. this is something i started considering only after i was forced to do acting for animation at uni. it’s really helpful!

learn to draw cloth and folds. when you’re drawing people there’s a 90% chance they’re in clothes, so observes and see how different materials look when they’re hanging or scrunched up or blowing in the wind.

the coil technique by sycra helped me out a LOT when i was trying to figure out foreshortening and make the character still seem like a solid structure.

line weight is another great way to show volume without shading. it also makes the line art process a lot of fun!

and i’ve heard many other artists say this and i stand by it too. find something you’re interested in and keep drawing for it. eventually you’re gonna get really good at it! and then you find the next thing and keep drawing that!

if anyone has any more tips feel free to leave it in the replies! i hope you have a good time drawing <3

[ambi-kiko]

here are some tma food hcs bc AAAA

i think that jon gets hungry for real food, too. but its more of a deep hunger? he actually needs food less and less and eventually just doesn't need to eat, but he still can and he still gets hungry, when he lets himself be relaxed enough to realize what his body needs

hes a great cook and at the safe house, cooks amazing meals and bakes warm loafs and all of martins favorite meals

jon sometimes gets hungry and doesnt let himself eat bc he doesnt feel human enough and feels like he doesnt deserve it

martin notices that last one and tries his best to make something jon likes

i think that martin is the best at making tea, really excellent at making classic chocolate chip cookies, and just awful at anything else in the kitchen. he still tries his best, and jon eats everything he makes

lonely!martin loses a lot of weight bc he leaves the office less and less and doesnt care for himself as much

jon is the only one who notices this and starts putting out a little tray of homemade biscuits near the tea in hopes that martin grabs some

when theyre in the safe house, jons #1 priority is to figure out martins favorite meals as subtly as he can to get martin to stop starving himself accidentally out of habit (he actually wasnt subtle at all, but martin found it endearing so he played along)

Melanie wanted to be a baker when she was younger and got really good at making treats. Her first youtube channel was for baking

Georgie cooks and Melanie bakes and they always call eachother the better chef

georgie is pretty good at cooking but she isnt exceptional by any means. melanie is excellent at baking, but she considers it pretty useless because "you cant live off fancy cakes and meringues"

daisy says that she knows how to cook and for a pretty long time basira believes her bc you cant be that buff if you dont eat

one night she comes over and finds that all that daisy has been eating is frozen meals

basira is fine at cooking (enough to live off of), but she cooked the best meal she could in hopes to inpress daisy

daisy had so little actual ingredients that basira rly struggled but it was amazing. daisy didnt notice bc she was too tired. she crashed on the couch and basira left after tucking her in. daisy was pissed at herself for not appreciating basira

after that, she stops eating frozen meals and tries learning to cook. shes really bad at it at first and almost gives up multiple times, but wants to be able to cook for herself (its really for basira but she wont admit it)

tim is the cook and sasha cleans up after

he feels bad making her clean but she insists bc "cooking is so much more useful and time consuming" and that he should "let her be useful"

tim always helps out in the end and they often end up dancing together in the kitchen

tim gets this weird feeling of loneliness when certain songs come up when hes cleaning the kitchen alone after not!sasha

peter leaves homecooked meals at elias' desk when he has his back turned (he starts with warm foods, but realized that they always turn cold and that isnt very pleasent, so he starts bringing salads and poke bowls)

if i missed anyone, lmk! i could continue w these for a while but im blanking on other characters and i dont want to go on too long in 1 post so see ya later!