#I’m getting the cheap ones here and there….

[nezuscribe]

life as a hit man was dirty but simple, and gojo preferred keeping it that way. he didn’t know his clients names, they didn’t know his. he’d send over proof of his work, they’d wire in the money. dirty, yet simple.

so when he gets a message to kill the daughter of some oil tycoon, he doesn’t think much about it. sure he thinks it’s cheap to go for the kid, but what does he know. this is the most he’s ever been offered for a one shot job, so he’s not an idiot to turn this offer down.

and unfortunately, that meant his next confirmed target was you.

he gets your information, where you go to school, what apartment building you live in, where you like to eat. usually he prefers a straight shot to the head, but sometimes sneaking in something to your food lets him off easier.

gojo gets to know your routine. what you do at what time. what shows you watch, what your favorite sweater is. he watches from the high rises that faces yours, crouching down so none of your bodyguards could see the reflection of the magnifier of his rifle.

and gojo is used to taking out a wide range of people. men, women, grandpas, aunts. it’s just business to him. but there’s something about you that makes him hesitate to pull the trigger.

maybe it’s the fact that the weeks he’s spent trailing after you he’s noticed you’re pretty much a loner. you keep to yourself, never bothering anyone. you don’t seem to have my friends in your classes, or even out of them. gojo never questions to morals of his clients or who they ask him to kill, but judging you so far you seem to have done…nothing wrong.

you treat the old lady who works in the convenience story with such kindness that gojo wonders if you were born into this level of wealth, because most people of your status treat those beneath them like ants. you always hold the door open for your body guards despite them insisting they do it for you. you always buy some food for the stray cats in the alley you pass, and you never yell when you’re on the phone with your dad, even though gojo tracks those calls and feels the need to yell for you.

it all comes to a moment when you’re at your favorite coffee shop (he knows this because you come here so often), and you’ve managed to weasel away from your bodyguards. he knows they must be freaking out by now, but you just want some alone time.

he’s right there, right behind you, the little pouch of his condition of drugs that instantly kill in his pocket ready, and you turn around with your coffee cup and bump into him.

your eyes seen, letting out a shocked gasp as the iced drink stains his shirt and pants, the cup not empty on the floor.

“oh my god, oh my god,” you stutter out, scrambling to find some napkins, “i’m so so sorry! i didn’t even see you there - gosh,” you shove some napkins into his hands, trying to dapple the coffee away but it does nothing to help, “i can’t believe…!” you trail off, the two of you moving out of line so you don’t hold the others up and your shaking your head in dismay, mad at your clumsiness.

“it’s alright,” he assures you, waving it off as his eyes take in your appearance. “don’t even worry about it, accidents happen.” it’s the first time he’s seen you this close, and he feels that pouch growing heavier in his pocket.

because you’re pretty. really pretty. and he likes the plush of your cheeks, the scrunch of your brows, the way you’re nearly gnawing your lip raw. you seem even prettier in person, and there’s a lump forming in his chest, something he’s never felt before.

“no, no,” you murmur, trying to find the tide pen in your bag, only to realize you left it at home, “and it’s stained too, fuck. i am so sorry about this, you probably have somewhere to be and…” your words trail off as you scramble for your wallet, pulling out some cash as you push it into his hands.

it’s more than he needs to replace the shirt and pants, probably enough to buy him a couple pairs from ralph lauren, but you still seem to think it’s not enough as you look for more.

“it’s no worries at all, i keep an extra of shirts in my car for emergencies like this,” gojo lies smoothly and you look up from your purse, eyes wide in shame. fuck he really likes your eyes too.

“no, please take it, it’ll be on my mind all day if you don’t,” you insist, but he’s shaking his head defiantly, a reassuring smile on his face as he hands the money back to you.

“and it’ll be on my conscience all day if i take it,” he promises you, and after you realize he’s not going to retract his hands you take the cash, shoving it back into your wallet as heat settles all over your body.

of course with your luck you spill coffee all over the most attractive man you’ve ever met.

you still look worried, finding another napkin as you take out a pen from your purse, messily writing something down.

“this is my contact information if you ever need me to replace your clothes,” you hand it over to the man with an apologetic smile, “please don’t hesitate to call me, i know stains and that’s gonna be really hard to get out,” you go to say something else but your eyes dart to the large windows behaubd him, catching sight of your body guards who seem to have seen you, and your face falls.

“i’m really sorry, again, but i have to go,” you mutter as you speed off, waving goodbyes to the stranger as you duck your head down and leave the coffee shop, not wanting to cause another scene as three buff men race in to find you.

gojo stands there almost in a haze, looking at his stained white shirt to the napkin with your number and name on it.

almost as if he didn’t already know it, almost as if you weren’t the girl he’s supposed to kill.

and in that moment he realizes how screwed he is, because he’d rather down that packet right there than shoot you down, and he’s never felt this dread before.

[saddled-on-stars]

Hellooo, may I request something Keatlejuice x reader ?

I was thinking of something inspired from the “do you think I’m qualified” scene from the first movie and basically the idea is: Beetlejuice keeps flirting with reader, which hasn’t been very successful so far… But at some point his voice switches back to his “normal” one and reader pauses because since when does he sound so good??

He notices the reaction and kind of uses it to his advantage to make reader swoon hehe

Thank youu :))

okay- don't mess this up, don't mess this up, don't mess this up... HI THERE MY LITTLE LOVELY CONSTELLATION! Okay, full disclosure, I've never watched either of the Beetlejuice movies. I don't really know how the model exactly works, so I'll make it to similar to the musical; where you just find him on the roof. (I HOPE THAT'S OKAY, DARLING) So yeah, I've never watched either of the movies... I KNOW THE PLOT OF THE FIRST ONE THOUGH, AND I WILL EVENTUALLY WATCH THEM BOTH I SWEA- As far as Keatlejuice goes, I don't know a thing about that scene, and nothing came up when I looked it up, so I'm just going to go off of what you typed. 😀 Please feel free to criticize if it's inaccurate. OKAY, HERE YA GO, LOVELY <3 Happy reading! - Star ★ -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Trigger Warnings: Explicit Language, Suggestive Themes, Mentions of Break-Up -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Key: ★ (Y/N) = Your Name ★ (L/N) = Last Name -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- - ★ - Spooky Smooth - ★ - Lying on your bed, listening to some music, it's about 2am. You have your earbuds in, connected to your phone, and are wearing some comfortable shorts and your favorite hoodie. You begin fiddling with the drawstrings, thinking of who gave it to you, then you frown in sadness. It was given to you by your now ex-partner, and they were a jerk. A TOTAL JERK. It all ended at dinner last night. But you hung on, and you still can't figure out why. But that's not why you're sad. You're angry and upset and heartbroken all at the same time, for letting yourself believe that they loved you. It crushed your heart into billions of pieces when they repeated to you that you just weren't good enough. They weren't the first ex, definitely not, and so, as usual, you thought they were the one. You poured your heart and soul into that relationship, only to have your heart shattered. You saw them in the bed with that fucking chick from some cheap-ass bar. You were so angry that you did things to them that you weren't proud of. You impaled all four tires on their small old Nissan Versa, to be specific. You wanted to do so much more, but your heart couldn't take it, and it crushed you in the most tragic way possib-

You drift back to reality as you hear something shuffling above you. It sounds like it's coming from the attic or the roof. You assume it's some sort of critter, and almost fix your earbuds back into your ear, until you hear something... sobbing, perhaps? Sniffling? Letting your curiosity get the best of you, you push your earbuds back in, still listening to the sad, yet comforting music, and you climb out of your window onto the roof. You climb up to the top, and quickly find yourself captivated by the stars. It seems to ground you for the first time you've felt content in a while. You pause your music, hearing something else. It's the sound of a small flyer blowing in front of you. Curiously, you grab it, wondering what it might say. Betelguese - The Bio-Exorcist. Speak my name three times. Betelguese? Like the star? Eh, sounds strange, and this flyer seems pretty aged and old. But how'd it get up high on the roof? You consider calling whoever this 'Betelguese' person is. If they're a bio-exorcist, then they could get rid of your nasty ex. After all, that bitch has some shit comin'. "Bettle-goose, Bettle-goose, Bettle-goose." You close your eyes, expecting something crazy to happen, but the only movement and sound are the stars twinkling and the crickets below chirping. You suddenly see another flyer blow by, and you pick that one up as well. Beetlejuice - The Bio-Exorcist. Speak my name three times. Now you understood. Whoever this person is, they must be here, and so, you put your earbuds back in their designated case, preparing for what's to come. You hold your hoodie in a self-hug, bracing yourself and you begin: "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice." You close your eyes once again, fearing that something large might happen that might spook you, but instead you hear a raspy voice say, "It's showtime~" Suddenly, a giant puff of green smoke appears in front of you, and you're slightly startled, but your curiosity overpowers your fear. Standing there before you is some sort of creature? No, this must be the Beetlejuice guy. He's in a black-and-white striped tuxedo, complete with some typical black shoes. Though, it's all dirty, covered in green spots from here to there. His hair is a pale green, sticking out in all different directions, and his eyes are surrounded by black circles, and you can't tell if it's a fashion choice or not. "Hiya, Babes!", he says, his voice still raspy and rough. "H-Hello..", you reply, slightly still startled. He comes over and sits on the roof in front of you. "So, I heard ya' called m'name three times! Tre!", he says as he's holding up three fingers, his fingernails looking a little overgrown. 'He knows Italian? How strange...', you think. He puts his elbows on his knees, and lays his head on his hand, in a relaxed position. "So what's a pretty lil' thing like YOU doing, callin' a bio-exorcist?", he says, his eyes filled with flirtation. Damn. Straight to the point, you guess. "I-I've had my heart broken by some bitch, and I need you to get rid of them...", you say, while trying to avoid eye contact, as you can feel your eyes show your anger. His other hand comes up to his face as well, until he's resting in both of his hands. "Well then, who's the bastard, and we can make a deal, Babes! Don't worry, I don't bite-", he says as his hands come back to his knees and he leans closer.

"Unless... if you're into that sort of thing, Babes..", he says as he winks, his voice suddenly changed. It's no longer raspy and rough, but DAMN, it's smooth and gentle. You feel your cheeks flush, definitely flustered from his flirtatious remark. "I- uh, uhm-...", you stutter, trying to find the words to respond. He chuckles at your reaction, and he replies to you stuttering, "So, what do ya say, Babes? Wanna make a deal with the devilishly sexy?”.

He's so close to your face now, it's almost burning with electricity. You nod slowly, not knowing how else to respond. You've been holding your breath for a long time now, but your lungs are far from their limit. He winks, and brushes your thigh with his hand, and snaps his fingers. You release the breath you've been holding, as you realize that he's dissappeared into a cloud of smoke, leaving you breathless. "Damn, that voice..."

- ★ - Written by Saddled_On_Stars - ★ -

[amostimprobabledream]

Animal Attraction (Grimmjow x Reader)

Also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/60500386

Good lord, how you hated office parties.

But here you were, in itchy tights, shoes that were hurting your feet, and glitter on your face. You’d worn the shoes because they matched the dress and the tights because you were paranoid that the dress might be too short – you hadn’t had time to try it on when you bought it in a blind panic, and exposing the lower half of your butt cheeks to your boss would be a huge error on your part. …Or possibly lead to a promotion, depending on his proclivities. But not a risk you’re willing to run.

You’re now at the point where the festivities have drained you of your social battery and the artificial good cheer is grating on your nerves. All you want to do is go home, get comfortable and fling your bra off.

“Hey, so, I think I’m gonna…” you say to Chie, someone you’ve always gotten along with.

“Whaaat? You’re not leaving already, are you?” Chie asks, widening her big doe eyes – you roll yours playfully in response, you’ve put off leaving once already because she pulled out that weapon, but it won’t work on you twice.

“Yeah, I’m done. I can only take so much of this goddamn music.” You laugh, knocking back the last of your drink. Hey, at least those were free. “I’ll message when I get home, okay?”

Chie gives a comedic pout of defeat, the flashing lights shining on her lipgloss, and she holds out her arms.

“Fiiine, better not forget!”

You shake your head as you give her a hug – she’s the one who usually forget to text, not you, but you can’t be bothered to raise that point now, her expensive Jimmy Choo perfume enveloping you – you keep meaning to ask her which specific perfume it is-

“Aww, no hugs for me?”

Fuck.

You stiffen in annoyance as you release Chie – Keiji is another co-worker of yours and since he “broke up” with his ex, he’s been hovering around you and some of the other women in the office like a wasp at a picnic.

“Uh-“ you say, trying to think of a way to tell him to fuck off in a manner that won’t get you hauled straight down to HR. But you’re a little drink and your brain is working without all cylinders firing, so before you can do much else, Kenji is hugging you as well and you grunt in displeasure – did he fucking bathe in his cheap-ass aftershave?

“So, I’ll see you later!” you say to Chie, accidentally-on-purpose jamming the heel of your heeled boot down onto Kenji’s big toe and he grunts and loosens his grip and you slither away from him like an eel.

“Prick.” You snarl under your breath as you stomp towards the lobby, nearly making it outside before you have to double back for your coat.

The night air knocks you for a loop and for a second the whole world seems to waver before your eyes. You stand there for a second, waiting for your body to adjust to the sudden change, head tilted up at the sky, a dark blue studded with distant stars and the misty halo of the moon, when out of the corner of your eye you spot something that makes the breath catch in your throat.

A figure leans against the building across the road from you, arms folded, staring you down with eyes so blue they almost seem to glow in the dim.

“Gri- what- how did you know I’d be here?” you splutter intelligently, staring at him.

He sneers and pushes off the wall, stalking up to you with his hands deep in the pocket of his jacket, his shadow falling across your frame.

“Che. You think you’re hard to find?” he asks, an arrogant tilt to his head as he looks down at you. “I’d know your scent anywhere.”

His eyes slide up and down your frame and a leer pulls at his lips, his eyes narrowing a fraction. You belatedly realise you forgot to do up your coat, in such a rush to escape Kenji and his grasping arms you’d stumbled outside with it clumsily pulled on, so your sparkly little party dress that’s showing plenty of boob is on clear display.

“Nice.” Is Grimmjow’s concise assessment of your outfit as he takes another step close to you, and you’re rooted to the spot as you gaze up at him. “Easy access.”

Your mouth falls open at his words – you should be used to his audacity by now but he still manages to find ways to surprise you - but before indignation has a chance to formulate a biting retort, he’s pulling you in impatiently, a hand wrapped around the back of your neck, and the next thing you know, his mouth is on yours, searing hot in the cold outdoors.

You can’t prevent the little moan that leaves you – rough and brutal he may be, but damn does he know how to use that mouth.

Grimmjow isn’t content with only kissing your lips either – whenever he tracked you down like this, he’d always leave you flushed and covered in marks, bites and hickeys all over your neck and collarbones, finger marks on your wrists and thighs, handprints littering your ass…you always looked like you’ve been ravished by a wild beast by the time he’s done with you.

Which, to be honest, isn’t exactly wrong…

Suddenly, though, Grimmjow pauses in his important task of marking you up, his face inches away from your throat, and nervousness swirls through your bloodstream.

“Um, Grimmjow?”

He doesn’t answer, instead he grabs your head to hold you still and breathes in deeply. His scowl deepens.

“Wha-at?” you say in a slight whine, his expression scaring you slightly. When he goes quiet, it tends to mean things have gotten serious.

“You stink.” Grimmjow responds bluntly, still nosing at your neck. “You don’t smell like you. You smell like…”

His lips pull back from his teeth in a snarl and your stomach lurches – something about how inhuman he looks with that bone fragment on his cheek sends a primal warning signal in your brain urging you to flee, even if you know you’d only get as far as he allowed you to. He does so love the thrill of the hunt.

Fuck.

“It’s – some guy just hugged me out of nowhere before I left, I didn’t-“ you babble immediately, even though you know you didn’t do anything wrong and you don’t have to explain yourself, but the silence is deafening and you find yourself talking just to fill it.

Grimmjow is hardly mollified by your rambling and in a blur, suddenly the darkness of a nearby alleyway engulfs you. Your back meets hard brick and he’d holding you up off the ground with ease by your hips, your entire body weight meaning nothing to him.

“Yeah?” he growls.

He seems personally offended and sets about correcting your little faux pas right then and there. His teeth sink into the tender flesh of your throat, making you cry out, the noise loud in the cool darkness. Grimmjow grins with approval as he spots the little dots of blood welling in the indents of his fangs.

“Fuck, that hurt!” you complain, smacking his chest with the back of your hand, which has all the effect of smacking a wall.

“Good.” He says, licking at the blood with an exaggerated flick of his tongue, holding eye contact with you as he does it, and you feel your face turn hot, well acquainted with exactly what that tongue can do.

“You fucking- mmm~“

Your words are drowned out by more kissing – all your lipstick and gloss will be gone by the time he’s done, Grimmjow tends to treat any flavouring you put on your lips as a topping to his favourite dessert.

Grimmjow leans forward and uses his mouth to tug your bra down, your tits pushed out in front of his face, and he wastes no time in lapping at them, nipping at the sensitive undersides of your breasts, apparently determined to leave as much markings as he possibly can over as much of your flesh as he can reach. His wicked tongue circles your nipples, teasing them until you're pulling on his wild mane of blue hair. He chuffs in approval at the sting in his scalp, leering up at you. He likes it rough when you fuck, even though there’s not much you can do to hurt him.

"Someone's impatient." he drawls, quirking an eyebrow.

"Stop teasing me." you complain, squirming against him, though you’re going nowhere and his fingers. "If you're going to do something, then do it!"

"Brat." he hisses at you, and he pulls you against him with one strong arm around your waist, cradling your body to him like a ragdoll, and lands a sharp smack to your ass that makes you yelp. He likes the sound so much that he does it again on the other cheek, laughing when your whole body jolts.

He likes it when you're a brat, though, because he still does as you requested, his tongue circling your sensitive nipples, sending little sparks of pleasure through you, though like with most things he does, he’s just a little too rough, leaving them throbbing before he pulls his mouth away to focus his attention on the other breast. He leaves little sharp nips to your flesh too, enjoying the soft squeaks it drives from your mouth – you’re so intoxicatingly sensitive, he’d play with your tits all day long if he could.

“Grimmjow, mm…” you hiss, and he smirks as a new scent reaches his nose – he knows your body so well he can smell it when you’re aroused, like a shark can scent blood from miles away. A sense of prideful satisfaction courses through him at how quickly he was able to make you wet, from something so simple, so easy as to just give your pretty tits some attention.

Of course, much as he loves them, they’re not the main thing he’s after.

He's hard already, his length straining against his fly, and he grins and slowly unzips with one hand, giving you a little show as your eyes follow the smooth movement of his hand, a sliver of his black boxers visible, before they’re pulled down too. Your stomach does a little flip as he palms his cock, a smug grin on his face.

“Like what you see, don’t you?” he says, amused. “Look what your slutty little dress has done to me.”

“It’s not slutty, it’s fun!” you protest, mortified he thinks you purposefully wore a slutty dress to a work event, though he isn’t exactly a good measuring stick for that - Grimmjow tends to find any clothing of yours that shows off your flesh to be provocative – you once wore a pair of shorts, not even hotpants or Daisy dukes, just a cute little cotton pair you have for the summer, and innocently walked past him and he responded by pouncing on you and fucking you until you could barely walk, let alone leave the house in them.

“Oh yeah? Then let’s have fun.” He leers at you and you have to admit you walked right into that one.

Azure eyes flick up and down your attire for a second, assessing the situation, before he simply grabs your tights and wrenches them apart, the sound of fabric tearing loud in the quiet and revealing your bare legs to the cold as you gasp in surprise. He tugs your panties impatiently aside, his fingers brushing up against your soaked core, teasing at your clit with a sinister smirk.

"Grimmjow, no, not here-!" you whine in protest, and he laughs cruelly.

"Yes, here," he replied, relishing in your embarrassment, adjusting your position and nudging his way between your legs, letting you sink onto the blunt head of his cock, and you groan as he lets you feel every inch of it bullying its way into your soaked cunt. "Unless you'd prefer I take you inside and fuck you in front of everyone?"

Your eyes fly open with fear, because you know it's no empty threat- Grimmjow cares nothing for social conventions, especially not the ridiculous confining rules humans go by. No doubt he'd love to bend you over in front of all your colleagues and make it very clear you were not on the dating market. You getting fired wouldn't be of much concern to him either - he'd see it as a win, getting to keep you all to himself and fuck you at his leisure.

"No, no, don't even think about it-!" you hiss at him, but you can't bite back the groan of pleasure as his hard cock brushes up against your sweetspot, feeling almost burning hot inside you with the cold air nipping at your thighs.

"Then shut up and take it like a good girl."

Not that he gives you much of a choice in the matter, but Grimmjow likes to watch you turn into a needy, whining, moaning mess beneath him, so he's never been stingy with your pleasure. He watches with rapt attention as he lifts you up and down off his cock like you're nothing more than his little personal fucktoy, his to move and manhandle as he sees fit. And yet, it feels so fucking good, to surrender yourself to the base pleasures after spending all day performing for other people.

He crushes his chest to yours, pinning you against the alleyway wall like a butterfly to a board, and your legs wrap around his waist without any further prompting, the heels of your boots kicking weakly against the leather of his jacket.

He fucks you rough and slow and deep, laughing harshly as a myriad of emotions flash across your face, your lipstick smeared around your mouth and sweat beading your forehead, giving your skin a sheen that’s more like a glow, something he loves to see on you. You look amazing in the moonlight, the silver glow falling across your skin like water, not like the garish brightness of the lights inside. The sparkling sequins on your dress flash in the moonlight as he bounces you up and down on the length of his cock, and you can feel heat engulfing you, you’re too hot in your coat now, your body throbbing with pleasure and damp with sweat. The lingering, acidic sting of any cologne that might have transferred onto you is long gone, replaced with the unmistakable musk of sex.

“That’s right – you’re mine.” He snarls at you, snapping his hips up and driving a keening noise from your throat – before you met Grimmjow you didn’t even know you could make sounds like this, you weren’t even particularly vocal in the bedroom, but he loved listening to you plead and gasp and lose yourself in the moment, so he’d keep going until he heard what he wanted to hear. “These tits are mine , this ass is mine and this pussy is mine. I makin’ myself clear?”

“Oh, fuck- yes-“ you groan, head swimming with booze and pleasure both, despite the back of your skull knocking against the bricks with every thrust, like a little drumbeat.

“Say it.” He snarls. “Or you don’t get to come.”

You whine in protest, but he rams his cock deep into you and your mouth drops open like a trapdoor, your voice sounding strangulated as you utter the words; “Yours, yours, ‘m all yours, Grimmjow, don’t stop-"

Raucously laughter greets your ears and he drops you down a couple of inches so he can fuck you even deeper and your vision fuzzes at he hits just right-

“Grimmjow, yes, fuck, right there, right there-“ you chant, you can vaguely hear your own voice echoing back at you in the alleyway but you’re too blinded with lust to give a fuck anymore, and Grimmjow nips your ear in approval, obliging you by pounding into you at a relentless pace, his cock pistoning in and out of your sopping cunt. You smell fucking incredible, like you but dialled up to a hundred, and with his own scent intertwined with it, he could get high off how good you smell right now.

“Thassit, good girl, good little slut.” He pants against your ear. “Nobody else fucks you just right, huh? Only me.”

“Only you, mmmh~”

Your thighs clench around him and he can feel you come, feel your walls clenching around his dick, your body trembling with the force of it. You muffle a cry of ecstasy against his shoulder, but he can hear you perfectly fine and holds you still, watching the look cross your features, panting and heavy-lidded and satisfied. It doesn’t take him too long to come after you do, and you can do nothing but take it as you feel him filling you up, your cunt still throbbing with aftershocks.

“Th-that…” you say, but the sentence fails to form, like a lightbulb sparking a few times before the fuse pops.

As the rushing sound in your ears begins to fade and the noise of your heavy breaths begin to die down – Grimmjow is barely winded, damn him, suddenly other sensations you’d blocked out in the throes of your impending orgasm. The uncomfortable, stifling heat of your coat, how your feet feel too tightly encase in your shoes, the roughness of the brick wall, Grimmjow’s strong arms wrapped tightly around you, one hand squeezing your ass…

And then, you hear someone saying your name, absolutely aghast, and you don't need to turn your head to see Kenji's shocked expression.

“Oh, shit.” You mumble, unable to think of anything else to sum up the situation.

Grimmjow, unbothered and in fact able to hear the clumsy human dipshit approaching a mile off, turns his head, looking down at the other man from his superior height like Kenji is no more than an insect he'd dearly love to squash. Then a smug, sinister grin splits across his face.

"She's busy." Grimmjow says, his fingers tightening around your flesh possessively, using his body to shield your debauched form from Kenji’s eyes – not so much out of modesty but more refusal to let the little asshole see even a glimpse of your perfect flesh, he won’t allow you to be tainted by having some nobody’s eyes on you. “And you ever put your fucking greasy hands on her again it’ll be the last time you have hands.”

Kenji stutters, not even saying words, just meaningless syllables, looking like a scared puppy, and he turns tail and flees. You whine in embarrassment, clutching Grimmjow’s jacket.

“He saw me!” He could get me busted for…public indecency!” you say, even though technically you were somewhat out of sight – Kenji really ought to exercise a bit more caution before he goes poking about in dark paths.

“I’ll push him into traffic.” Grimmjow offers, pushing your damp hair off your forehead and pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to your forehead – he only does stuff like this in his relaxed post-coital state, so you’ve learned to treasure them. “Make it look like an accident.”

He probably isn’t joking, but you chuckle anyway and give your head a fond shake.

“Let’s go home and I’ll think about it.”

“Mm.” he grunts, hitching you up a little higher, one arm around your waist, using the other to tuck himself back into his jeans. You try to right the front of your dress, though there’s no saving your tights, they’re naught but tattered rags on your legs now. “We’ve got a long night ahead anyway.”

Your eyes pop open wide and you look up at him, nearly nose-to-nose with him.

“Wh…what’d you say?” you ask, and Grimmjow cocks his head.

“Oh, you thought we were done?” Grimmjow says casually, grinning at the look on your face. “Heh. You call that bullshit in there a party, sweetheart? I’ll show you a real fuckin’ party.”

[supercorpkid]

Would it really kill you if we kissed? Part 2

Supergirl. Baby Danvers. Kara Danvers x B!D!Reader, Alex Danvers x B!D!Reader, Lena Luthor x Reader, Esmé Danvers

Word Count: 3010

Previously on part 1. Part 2 of 3.

You start spending more time with Esmé, filling your days with her endless energy and her excitement over everything new on this island. You’d planned on being here for the family time anyway, but lately, it’s become easier to dodge Kara’s concerned glances and Lena’s quiet observations. Esmé, at least, never asks questions you’re not ready to answer.

It doesn’t stop Kara from trying, though. You find yourself slipping out of family dinners early, ducking behind palm trees when you spot her coming your way, feigning sleep when she knocks on your door at night. You know it’s getting obvious—Kara’s face fell when you bailed on last night’s dinner, and Alex’s knowing sigh was almost loud enough to break through the silence you’ve wrapped around yourself. But would they even understand if you told them?

Esmé’s simpler. When you’re with her, it’s just fun, silly games and laughter that doesn’t get weighed down by questions. For now, you let yourself hide behind that. That is until Esmé notices, of course. Kids always do, with that unfiltered clarity adults forget to keep.

It catches you by surprise when the two of you are building sandcastles, the sun heavy and warm, and she says, “I miss hanging out with Aunt Kara and Aunt Lena together. You know, like… like we used to.”

You tense, your hands pausing mid-sculpt. “They’re busy with grown-up stuff. It happens.”

Esmé gives you a look, so knowing it’s almost painful. “You’re a bad liar.”

You sigh, brushing sand from your fingers. “I guess I am.”

“Is it because of that thing you can't tell Aunt Kara, but you can tell my mom?”

It takes you by surprise, the perceptiveness of it, the way she’s pinpointed exactly what’s unraveling between you and your sisters without even understanding why. You swallow, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Sort of.”

“I wish I had a sister. If I did, I'd tell her everything! And she would be my best friend!”

"Well, your mom is my best friend and she is my sister too."

She spares a look over her shoulder, to Kara on the other side of the beach swimming alone in the ocean. "I bet Aunt Kara feels lonely."

It’s… whoa. A lot more insightful than you'd expect from a six-year-old.

Kara’s attempts to reach you haven’t gone unnoticed. She’s patient, but only for so long, and it’s clear to everyone around you that you’re holding her at arm’s length.  But what's worse is that you avoid Alex too, because you don't wanna tell her what happened. She's gonna tell you that you missed your chance to come clean, which is obvious and yet extremely unhelpful. 

It’s so evident you're keeping your distance, that when Lena finds you sneaking behind a bush one evening, she doesn’t even act surprised.

"Hey!" Lena’s voice makes you jump, her warm presence somehow amplifying your guilt. "Why are you hiding behind a bush? And why does it feel like I haven't seen you in days?"

"What? It hasn't been days." It has. She raises her eyebrows, and you smooth your hands over your clothes. "I thought I saw a hedgehog," you lie, forcing a smile. She doesn’t look convinced. "What are you up to?"

"I thought you and I could go on a walk," she says, her smile soft, irresistible. You’re about to argue, but she throws a cheap shot. "You know, you did promise me some alone time."

"Did I?" You try a joke, but, as with the last few attempts, it doesn’t quite land with her.

"You don’t have to come if you're more interested in the hedgehog. I could probably hold my own against the wild animals in the forest."

"Yeah, I’m sure you can, but I’d hate to miss you fighting a snake, so I might as well tag along. Wouldn’t want to miss the show."

"Very kind of you, darling." Lena’s eyes light up with humor, and the two of you start toward the nearest forest trail. It’s close to the resort—too close for any real wildlife, which is probably the point.

The conversation is supposed to be casual, just friends catching up. She asks about your thesis, even a few things about your superhero life. But as relaxed as it should be, you can’t shake the tension simmering beneath the surface. Every laugh, every shared glance, every tiny silence, and you’re swallowing feelings, nearly choking on unsaid words. Your heartbeat drums in your ears, terrified that one slip-up could give everything away.

"Kara is so thrilled to have you to share these experiences with. I bet it’s lonely, having to figure out this superhero lifestyle on your own."

"I don’t think I’m helping that much, to be honest. I’m just… following her lead most of the time."

"I think you're more important than you give yourself credit for." Lena touches your arm, her eyes soft and unwavering, making it impossible to shrug it off. "For everyone, not just Kara."

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” You mutter the words with such disbelief that Lena almost flinches.

She doesn’t let it go, though. She stops, making you pause too, her expression puzzled but determined.

"Y/N, darling." Just one word—darling—and your heart is pounding, each beat a tiny betrayal. "You know I mean it, right? We wouldn’t miss hanging out with you so much if you weren’t—"

"So fun to have around!" you cut in, your voice unnaturally bright.

Lena reaches for your hand, her gaze softening in a way that makes it impossible to hide. "If you weren’t so incredibly special."

This is it—the moment you could be honest, vulnerable, bare open like she is. But Kara might be in love with her. And she’s probably in love with your sister too, because who would choose you over Kara? No one. Not even you.

So you bite your tongue, force a smile, and watch the moment slip past. “Yeah, I—I don’t know. Maybe the superhero life just isn’t for me.”

“Oh.” Lena blinks, visibly thrown, and when you realize what you’ve just said, it’s too late. Can’t take it back. You’ve tried so hard to hide how you feel about her, you didn’t even think about the other secrets you need to protect.

“Not that I’ll stop!” you rush to reassure her. “I’d never stop supering and leave Kara to it. I just… wonder, sometimes. But, um, everyone wonders about things they’ll never act on, right?”

You can feel Lena’s gaze linger on you as you stumble through your words. Her silence feels weighty, loaded with questions she doesn’t voice. Instead, she’s watching you with that careful, gentle look she has—the one that makes you feel like she can see straight through every defense you’re barely managing to hold up.

“Y/N,” Her voice is low, softer than usual, and you can tell she’s choosing her words carefully. “If you ever feel like talking… Really talking, I mean—I’ll listen, you know that, right?”

You breathe deep, trying to keep your expression neutral, but the way she’s looking is too much; she’s seeing right through you, and every instinct you have screams to deflect, to put distance between you and that sharp, all-seeing gaze.

“I know, Lena. I just—” You pause, forcing the words clawing up your throat back down, swallowing hard against the sting of tears that threaten to break free. “I don’t have much to say right now, but… thank you.”

Her fingers brush down your arm slowly, lingering for a split second before letting go. She doesn’t push, but there’s something in her eyes, something searching, that leaves you feeling bare. She’s not fooled, you know that. But she doesn’t press further, only offers a soft nod.

“I just want to make sure you know that you’re not alone.” Her voice is so gentle, it makes your throat tighten.

Her words land with a bittersweet ache, a reminder of exactly how not alone you actually are—and yet, how impossible it feels to share any of it. You swallow, nodding a little too quickly, desperate to end this before you give yourself away completely.

“I appreciate it,” you mumble, unable to meet her eyes. “Anyway, uh… we should head back before it gets dark.”

A tiny smile curves her lips, one filled with patience, and it only makes the weight in your chest feel heavier. She sees through you, sees the things you’re too afraid to say. And as you walk back, her presence beside you is both comforting and unbearable, the knowledge that she’d listen if you let her like a gentle but relentless pressure against the wall you’re so intent on keeping up.

When you finally reach the resort, you mumble something about needing to freshen up before dinner, ducking away before she can say anything else. But her words stay with you, lingering in the back of your mind: you’re not alone.

Even though you've never felt as lonely and isolated as you do now.

This trip, this whole thing, was a really bad idea.

You throw together your bag in a rush, moving faster than any human eye could see. This trip was supposed to be a break, a chance to breathe—but with each day, it feels like the land on this tiny island is getting even smaller. There’s nowhere left to hide, and the weight of your secrets presses harder, threatening to escape the moment you open your mouth. It almost did with Lena, so you desperately need to leave.

You knock lightly on Alex and Kelly’s door, hoping not to wake Esmé. It’s late, but Alex answers quickly, slipping out into the hall and shutting the door quietly behind her. She gives you a concerned once-over, her expression softening in that big-sister way.

“What’s wrong?” she whispers. “Lena said you two hung out before dinner, but then you didn’t show up—”

“I’m going back to National City.” You say it quickly, barely letting the words settle before you look away, as if that might make it easier. Alex’s eyes shift down to your bag, and she lets out a long, disappointed sigh.

“You can’t keep running forever, you know.”

“No, but I can tonight.” You set your jaw, bracing yourself. Alex is going to try to talk you out of this, and you can’t let her. “I’ll help keep watch over National City with J’onn and M’gann. Say goodbye to Esmé for me.”

“Absolutely not. You want to leave her, you tell her yourself.” She opens the door a fraction, enough for you to glimpse Esmé’s little sneakers by the bed, and you feel something twist painfully in your chest. She knows it’ll be harder for you to look Esmé in the eye, to break your promise of a trip full of fun with her favorite aunt. “Man up.”

“Sexist,” you mutter, half-heartedly, as you step inside. But before you can call for Esmé, you freeze. Kara is sitting on the floor, her gaze sharpening the moment she sees you.

“You’re leaving?” She stands up, arms crossed, and in that moment, she doesn’t look much like your sister—she looks every inch of Supergirl, unyielding. Kelly clears her throat, mumbling something about checking on Esmé before slipping out of the small living room.

“Yeah, I have this… thing.”

“Is this ‘thing’ called a massive crush on Lena that you’re too scared to deal with?” Kara’s voice is quiet but piercing, an eyebrow arching as she studies you, making you feel as transparent as glass. “Or is this ‘thing’ a problem you’ve got with me?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh yeah, I forgot everything has to be about you.”

Before you can get another word out, she’s right in front of you, moving faster than even you expected.

“It’s becoming about me because you keep dodging me and shutting everyone out,” she says firmly. “You have to stop running, Y/N. Why won't you deal with your problems like an adult?”

“Oh my God! Is there a version of this conversation where you don’t sound like my mother?”

“I don't know. Is there a version where you don’t sound like a moody teenager?” She fires back, voice sharp as a blade.

"Go to hell, Kara," you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper, knowing full well she’ll catch every word. You try to push past her, but she steps in your way, resolute, daring you to challenge her. Fine. If she wants a fight, you’ll give her one.

“Stop acting so tough,” you say, each word sharp and unyielding. “You’re not Alura. You’re not Eliza. You’re not even my oldest sister.” You pause, just long enough to let it sink in, to make sure she feels the sting. "You don’t get to act like you’re in charge."

Kara flinches, just a fraction, but you catch it. And part of you hates that it hurts her—almost as much as the rest of you wants it to.

A hand catches your arm as you make to leave, and you know it’s Alex without even looking. Her grip isn’t harsh, but it’s inflexible, the quiet authority of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.

“This has gone too far.” she says, her voice low.

“Alex,” you say, a warning lacing your tone. But your sister doesn’t budge. She’s as immovable as Kara in her own way, and you can tell from her stance that she’s done letting this slide.

“No. You tell her now, or I will.” The seriousness in her voice roots you to the spot, and you stare at her in disbelief. “Don’t test me, Y/N. This has gone on too long.”

“Alex,” you plead, the warning fading, replaced by something that feels like betrayal. “I trusted you.”

But Alex’s stance only hardens. She glances at Kara, crossing her arms in front of her chest, each movement deliberate, telling you in no uncertain terms that this is the line she won’t let you cross.

“You want to know what’s going on?” your voice comes out loud, it's almost a yell in the quiet of the night, voice cracking as you throw the question back at them, your fists clenched so tight they’re shaking. “Fine. Let’s do this. You want honesty? Here it is.”

Kara and Alex fall silent, but they’re staring, eyes wide. You can’t tell if they're surprised or concerned, and for once, you don’t care.

“I’m in love with Lena,” you spit out, practically choking on the words. “There it is. Happy? But it doesn’t matter, because she’s yours, Kara. Everyone is. Everyone who matters, everyone I could ever care about, they’re all yours.”

“I don't—” Kara starts, but you’re not finished. Not even close.

“Don’t!” you snap, cutting her off. “You have no idea what it’s like to be around you, day after day, having to act like it doesn’t kill me. Watching you looking at her like… Like I do. And I just—” Your voice wobbles, a tremor of frustration bubbling up with the tears you’re fighting to keep down. “I just get to stand there and smile and play the part of your perfect little sister, like I should just be grateful to even be a part of your story.”

Alex takes a step toward you, hands up, but you move away, barely holding it together, so you don't hurt her. “Do you know how exhausting it is? How much do I dread putting on the suit, being the hero, pretending this is all I ever wanted? Because it’s not. It’s never been. I hate it," your voice comes out so raw, your throat hurts afterwards. "and I can’t even tell anyone that because you’d all look at me like I’d failed you. Both of you would.”

Alex steps back the slightest, her face twisted in a mix of surprise and sadness. Kara looks stricken, her mouth parting like she wants to say something, but you don’t give her the chance. You’re too far gone, the anger pushing past your better judgment.

“You get to be perfect, and I get to be… what? The second-rate version of you? The one who’s not quite as brave, not quite as good?” You only realize you're crying when you taste your own tears. “The one people don't even glance at because they are too busy looking at you — the super girl. And now you want me to watch you with the person I love too? You just get to take everything.”

"That's not true! None of it is—" Kara reaches out, but you take a step back, hands up like it’s a shield. 

“You don't get it! So don’t—just don't.”

Her expression crumples, and for the first time, you see the real hurt reflected back at you. But the ache inside you is too loud, too sharp to ignore. A small part of you feels vindicated, glad that she’s hurting too—at least now you’re not the only one carrying the weight of pain.

You turn away, ready to escape the suffocating atmosphere, but Alex’s voice cuts through the tension, pulling you back.

"Y/N, wait." Alex tries, voice sweet like you didn't even know she could master. "Let's all take a breath and just… talk about it."

"Oh no," You turn to her. "you don't get to do this. I trusted you with this, and you just—” You can’t find the words, the tears breaking free, your voice shaking. "You just chose Kara over me. Like everyone does. So you don't get to ask me for anything." The next words leave from the depths of your core, it shakes the entire room. "NONE OF YOU get to ask me for ANYTHING!" 

Sometimes hours can feel like minutes, and sometimes a single second can last a lifetime.  "I'm done pretending we're one big happy family." This is it. This is that second. The second you burned every bridge, every connection you've had and flew away from it.

[honeyjars-sims]

3.38 Common Goals

Things have been busy over the past couple of weeks. The channel is planning some special videos and the cast has been filming at different locations. That means I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to Lacey yet, which I’ll admit is a bit of a relief. 

I’ve been pretty distracted anyway. My dads already have a buyer interested in the house so that doesn’t give me much time to find a new place. Lucy suggested I get in contact with Paul since he’ll need a roommate when he moves to San Sequoia, so I’m meeting with him to look at a townhouse he’s had his eye on. 

When I arrive at the address Paul gave me, it’s not quite what I was expecting. It doesn’t look like any rental property that I’ve ever seen. There’s a little market area on the other side of the parking lot where booths of fresh flowers and produce are set up. Before I have a chance to check it out more, Paul's Jeep pulls into the parking lot and he hops out.

"You ready?" he asks. I tell him I am and we walk to a gate with an intercom. ”I just have to let the property manager know we’re here.” After a couple of minutes a woman who looks to be in her 50s arrives to greet us. She looks like she’s been working outside; her jeans dusted with dirt and her cheeks are pink from the sun. 

 "Hello Paul, it's nice to speak to you in person," she says. She looks at me. "This must be the roommate."

"Hi, I'm Johnny," I say, reaching out to shake her hand.

"Johnny," she repeats. "Johnny and Paul. I'm Gail. My wife and I own the townhouse you’ll be viewing. Let’s go take a look."

We walk down the path. There are two buildings on either side and Gail takes us to the one on the right. “My son just moved about a week ago. He’s going to do some conservation work in Sulani,” she explains as she unlocks the door to the unit.

When we step inside, I'm surprised by the size of the place. Going by the rent price, I was expecting something much smaller. "Are you sure you got the price right?" I ask Paul. Maybe he transposed some numbers somewhere. It seems unlikely, but even future doctors make mistakes.

"I thought I did when I first saw it, but it really is that cheap," he insists. I raise an eyebrow, sensing that there's more to the story. "There is just one little catch," he admits.

Gail catches wind of our conversation and smiles. "It really does sound too good to be true, doesn't it? The community here is a little...atypical, but I promise it's worth it."

"What do you mean?" I ask incredulously.

"Well, Ellie and I started this community once our children got older. Initially we just wanted a way to keep us all together, but we saw an opportunity to create affordable housing here in San Sequoia and foster our community at the same time. At Hopewell Commons, helping out your neighbors isn't simply a courtesy. Everyone contributes, whether it's through tending the garden, making repairs, providing childcare, offering goods and services...everyone finds their place."

"So we have to earn our keep?"

Gail laughs. "I wouldn't put it quite like that. As renters, you’re not required to put in the hours that our homeowners do, but we encourage you to get involved. You'll not only be helping out others but you'll have a built-in support system when you're the one in need."

I’m feeling pretty skeptical, but I want to see if this place is worth the effort. Gail shows us one of the bedrooms upstairs. 

“That’s a nice view of the garden,” Paul comments. I peek out the window. The garden is pretty quaint with a small greenhouse and a few rows of plants. There’s an older woman and a young girl talking near the chicken pen. 

“That’s Ellie and our granddaughter, Ramona,” Gail tells us.

“How many people live in the community?” I ask her.

“Well, there’s my daughter Cleo and her family, and we’ve got about 10 other residents at the moment. But we’re growing! We’re building more houses on some land we just acquired.”

Once she's out of earshot, I turn to Paul. "This isn’t a cult, isn't it?"

"It's not a cult. It's more like a…family."

"That's what someone who's in a cult would say," I point out.

“It’s NOT a cult!”

Next, Gail leads us out into the community garden. "This is a group effort," she explains. "We have several residents who rotate duties in the garden, and once the crops are ready everyone helps themselves to their share."

I can't say that I've ever been into gardening, but Paul seems excited by the idea. I guess I should get used to it, too. While he and Gail share gardening tips in the greenhouse, I wander around the garden. It does seem like a nice idea, everyone chipping in so that their neighbors can enjoy the bounty. Plus, free food.

Gail’s granddaughter is playing nearby and when she sees me, she skips over. 

"Hi, I'm Ramona! What's your name?" "I'm Johnny." "Oh, okay. Do you have any pets?" "Yeah, I have a cat named Taco."

"Taco??? That's a funny name!” She giggles. “Can I see it?" "Well, she's not here right now." "Why?" "Because I don't live here." "Why?" I'm not completely sure how to answer that one. "Because I just don't." "Oh. Are you going to live here soon?" "Maybe." "Can I see Taco when you do?" "Well, you should probably ask your parents about that." "Why?"

Gail comes around the corner.  "Because it's not a good idea to go to someone's house alone if you don't know them." Ramona seems satisfied by her answer.

Gail turns to me. "You'll have to excuse Ramona. She thinks everyone is her friend. You’re a nice young man, but it's important that she learns the difference between a friend and a stranger."

"No problem," I tell her. Ramona runs off to examine a tomato plant. It seems like she has the type of childhood that I wish I had. I learned way too young that not everyone can be trusted.

Paul walks over to me. "So, what do you think?" he asks. "I understand if you're not feeling it. I know it's a little strange."

So far everyone looks happy, like, genuinely happy and not like people in a cult who are being brainwashed. I sigh. "Okay, as long as the rental agreement doesn't make us promise our souls to The Great Leader I guess I'm open to it."

"Are you sure? Because we can keep looking if you're not."

"I'm sure. I trust your judgment."

We tell Gail what we've decided and she takes us to fill out our applications. She says we should hear something in a couple of days.

When we head back to our cars I spot Ramona again.

"Bye Johnny!" she tells me cheerfully. "Tell Taco I said 'hi!'"

"Sure thing, Ramona. See you later!"

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[drdemonprince]

Would it make more sense to contribute money to my employers 401k to max out the match contribution or to instead just contribute a small amount and use the rest to pay off high interest debt or building an emergency savings (I have like 1.5 months worth of expenses saved and… $30k of credit card debt….). I was unemployed for a long time but now have a stable salaried job where I make enough to cover my expenses (credit card minimums, loans, groceries, rent, etc) and have a little left over that I divvy up between small treats (a movie ticket, a nice pastry, thrifted clothes), donation posts, and like an extra $50 credit card payment and I’m not fully sure the optimal way to use that small amount of money. I do need a small treat from time to time to not lose it (and socializing often costs money even if it’s a cheap activity) but maybe it’s better saving on getting a $10 movie ticket each month to potentially pay off my debt like a month faster a couple years from now? how do I create financial security without feeling like I’m putting my life on a depressing pause for a debt free future that won’t happen for a couple years (assuming I make the same money and don’t incur additional expenses)?

Yeah, you've hit on a really important piece here, which is motivation and long-term resolve. The Mr Money Mustaches of the world talk up the importance of stoicism and shit and preach reducing living expenses, but it's equally important to keep in mind what actively gives you enough hope, pleasure, and reinforcement to keep you going.

Cutting back on expensive nights out is one thing; removing all joy and socialization from your life and therefore nerfing your long-term ability to remain employed and earning is another matter entirely. Enjoy those movie nights out. Supplement with having friends over to stream something on your laptop and eat snacks, free museum days, you know, do lots of cheap shit in addition to the little treats, but dont deny yourself the treats. those arent extravagances, that's being ALIVE! and the only reason we aspire toward financial independence is so that we can live life as we wish to, rather than being owned by an employer.

Employer matches are pretty much a guaranteed double on your money, which is better than even paying off a loan in terms of earning potential. so I'd recommend socking away that 5% from your paycheck automatically, so that you never even have to think about it, and then budgeting any remaining expendable income on knocking out that credit card debt.

30k is enough to really hurt, especially with interest over time, but not so great that knocking it out is impossible. you can do this! make sure in particular to focus any unexpected income on paying down that debt. birthday money, tax returns, perhaps filling out some class action forms online, any little bit helps -- you may want to check out the Snowball Debt Repayment method, in particular, as a lot of people find it more motivating to have a few shorter-term goals. (Basically, if you have multiple credit card debts, focus on paying off the smallest one first, so you'll get the rush of having vanquished at least one beast).

Good luck!!

[tariah23]

Eeekkk

I got two more 😭…..

[fernifox]

Max! He’s a big guy, made him for my brother since he loves the Sam and Max games.

Fuzzy yarn is a nightmare to work with but I have a project I want to make with it so I decided to finally finish this as a warm up before I make a silly little bear.

[bibleofficial]

wallpaper is insane like u find a product w an ugly print ? wallpaper it. just multiple uncoordinated things put together ? wallpaper it. ugly door ? wallpaper it. ugly wall ? landlord won’t let me wallpaper it

[polyamorouspunk]

Hug

*Hug*

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I love you. How do you always manage to answer each and every ask with that same refreshing excitement. I love you. How do you always manage to talk with us anons as if we have always been long time best friends. I love you. How do you always manage to pour your whole soul into every piece of writing. I love you. How do you always manage to alter my brain chemistry everytime I read what you write. I love you. How do you always manage to give me the feels even when I think that nothing could ever touch me anymore. I love you. How do you always manage to make me want to talk to you even though I know nothing about you. I love you. How do you always manage to make me smile every single time I read your rants. I love you. How do you always manage to be the reason for me to look forward to opening Tumblr everyday. I love you, with no ulterior motive, just from human to human because everyones attractive, you included. I simply hope you know that.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🍦🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🍦🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 ignore the ice creams idk how they got in there BUT ANON… this is such a heartfelt lovely note i had to take a breather…….. i feel a little like i’m being serenaded…. do u happen to know ur ring size by any chance 😳😳

no but genuinely this is SO sweet of you i think it made me shy so my brain is kinda. broken rn. BUT I’M VERY VERY TOUCHED i’ve said it before i think but i’m sooooo lucky w my anons???? you’re all so sweet?????? i imagine u as little tiny puppies that show up to my doorstep with letters T—T… i have a parasocial connection to every single one of my anons actually i love all of You specifically <33333

AND i’m so happy that my blog can bring you some comfort/joy!!! that’s all i could hope for!!!! :’3 this really does mean the world to me….. you can’t see me anon but i am in fact tearing up a bit. i love you sm!!!!! and i hope you have the most wonderful day or night a person can have !!! <33333

[oldxenomorph]

Folks, I think I’m turning into a Liquid Death drinker

[kkoongie]

Wishing I had money so I could run my own ren faire to scratch that itch

[hadideedee]

Sanji kitty decided to come home for his birthday :3

[oswhys]

Hey could ads on tumblr not play music or sounds when I don’t event click on them? It would be great if ads didn’t constantly run while I’m using the app either. I’d also like it if ads didn’t just shove their way onto my screen on top of posts. I understand the need for ads, that they “need” to make money. But this website, this app, it’s bothersome enough to use with the constant horrible changes to the UI and policy that it doesn’t need literal pop up ads.

[salsflore]

ummmm