#and I'm going to choose to keep myself out of that situation

[jjba-smash-or-pass]

[kuromi-hoemie]

“if she doesn't want to be called dude i won't call her that” - you are assuming you and your friends read as people trans women feel safe enough to speak up to, while already demonstrating you don't take other people seriously enough.

Your habit and lack of self restraint/awareness matter more than common sense i guess. Like i would never call a transmasc “girl” because that would seem like obvious misgendering, but it's different for trans women apparently.

[roboticchibitan]

Today I'm going to talk about a form of radical resistance that anyone, no matter their situation, can engage in: cultivating hope.

Are you filled with hopelessness and despair at the state of the world? I have some good news and some bad news.

The bad news is you've fallen for a tool of the status quo. Despair freezes us. It keeps us from imagining and working towards a better world. Despair is easy, because it means we have no reason to take action to make things better. Capitalism? Our oppressors? They want you hopeless for a reason. Because you're easier to control that way.

The good news is! There's a lot of very real reasons for hope. However, hope is something you have to cultivate. It takes work. It is a radical act. It is looking at the status quo and going "actually, no. I refuse."

Maybe you can't risk losing your job to unionize your workplace. Or maybe you're an oppressed minority who can't risk going to protests because our criminal justice system is racist. But cultivating hope in yourself is just as radical an act of resistance as those two things. It is another form of imagining and working towards a better world.

It's not as flashy as starting a union or going to a protest, true. Maybe it feels selfish, like you're only helping yourself. But that's not true. It's a lot harder to help others when you, yourself, are frozen by despair. By working on yourself, you are making it easier for you to help others, in whatever form that takes for you.

For me, since I started my hopepunk practice I have been more able to engage in activism, even if I no longer post about it. Before calls to action froze me. I was so overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of our problems that I was unable to address any of them.

Since I've started cultivating hope in myself, I've unfrozen enough that I was able to choose the causes that matter to me and put my energy there. I engage in more charitable donations and political actions now than I did before. I am happier and also helping others more than I did before.

Cultivating hope in yourself is hard at first. You feel defeated before you even start. But you start putting work in and you find a little hope. And then a little more. And a little more. And then, suddenly. It snowballs and you're doing better than you have in years, and hope comes easier to you now.

If you don't know where to start, go follow @hopepunk-humanity @hope-for-the-planet @afeelgoodblog and @reasonsforhope or follow the hopepunk tag

There's also things like the good news network, who have a daily email they send out with a handful of positive news stories. Some of them I find kinda dumb and shallow like "lost dog returned after 3 years" type stories. But there's also a lot about scientific advancments in green energy, medical care, etc that I find helpful for cultivating hope. Did you know about the CRISPR gene editing tool that's being used to cure incurable illnesses? I didn't! And now I do! afeelgoodblog also runs a substack "best news of last week" newsletter every Monday that I find has stories with more substance, tho it is US focused.

Despair isn't helping anyone, especially not you. Engage in a radical act and start cultivating hope in yourself. You deserve to leave that despair behind, and in the process, you are directly going against the powers that have decided we are easier to control if we are miserable.

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

[drewsbraziliangf]

nothing to say when heaven falls | Drew Starkey x black!reader

summary: what can you do when the person that’s supposed to understand and be on your side chooses to doubt your fears?

Word count: 1388

a/n: not edited, we die like soldiers!!!!! pls let me know if you wish to be added to my taglist

"How can't you see how disrespectful this is to me, Drew?" You ask with a strained voice and teary eyes. "Everywhere you go she's looming like a shadow."

"She's my friend, what do you want me to do?" Exasperated, he asks.

"I don't know. Maybe tell her that your fiancé doesn't feel comfortable with her following you around, traveling abroad to see you or fuck, being all fucking touchy and handsy with you in public."

My throat was burning as the words slipped my mouth but I simply couldn't avoid it any longer. I am so tired of this whole situation and it has been going on for far too long. I just can't hold it back anymore.

"Can't exactly tell her what to do," he rolled his eyes this time.

"Really? Am I really asking for that much?" I look at the man in front of me with disbelief, "I just want to feel like I'm not invisible in my own goddamn relationship. She sees you more than I do and I am the one with a ring on my finger. How is this fair?" 

"Babe, listen, there's nothing going on between me and her. You have to believe me," he pleads as he runs his hands through his hair.

"You don't think I'm trying to believe you? I'm in the trenches everyday telling myself this over and over again, but how can I turn a blind eye to it when the first thing I see whenever I'm online is that you're both coincidently in the same city. For the millionth time."

I know that pulling this out in the open this way isn't the best option. But how could I keep bottling all of this up when it's causing such a heavy pain in my chest every time I see their names together?

It was always clear the perks of dating a public figure and I never backed out on it. Now seeing the man who asked me to spend the rest of my life with him and have his babies walking around with the woman everyone swears he was romantically involved with is messed up.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he admits as he walks away from me.

That felt like a punch. Because how could I make it anymore obvious? Do I have to draw it to a thirty year old why he should respect the woman he chose to propose to? 

“Are you for real right now?” I asked as I follow him into the kitchen of our shared apartment. “Did you really just said that to me, Joseph?”

At this point it felt like there was no going back anymore, either this was going to be totally fixed here or it wouldn’t at all. The bandaid was ripped and the wound was open and burning.

“How can you be so dull? You really can’t see what the problem here is?” 

I watch as he fills a glass with water and turns his back to me. He did it twice already. The off white walls of the kitchen lacked the warm they always brought when we were in it together. It felt claustrophobic and like the roof was going to fall over our heads at any given minute.

“You’re acting like I’m cheating on you. Like this is some major fuck up. It isn’t, you’re turning it into something it isn’t.” His tone was cold but looking at his posture it was clear that he was trying to maintain his calm.

The condescending tone in his voice made me want to shrink into myself and hide away from the world.

“Oh, right. Yeah, blame it on me for thinking that my fiancé going out of his way to be with his ex fuck buddy isn’t normal.”

“Careful,” he warns once finally looks at me.

“Or what, Drew? What else could you possibly do that will make me feel worse than I already do?” I challenge, my gaze locked on him as I wait.

After a few minutes of us staring down at each other, he shakes his head and sighs. 

“I’m not doing whatever this is. I’m done entertaining this,” he declares and he leans against the countertop.

Drew and I met around two years ago through a mutual friend. We instantly hit off and after a few dates, he officially asked me to be his girlfriend - which I obviously accepted. We had this instant connection that isn’t common. At first I was terrified of it, I knew who he was and the fact that his life was always being scrutinized by thousands of people. I knew what people said online about him and as we got closer and closer I couldn’t help but lose myself in the speculations about him even more.

Our relationship was great and we always made sure that each others boundaries were respected, so color me stoked to be in this situation right now. I am not dumb and every single day there is a needle pinching me making me think of stuff and situations like the one we find ourselves right now just indulge those thoughts.

In the early days of our relationship we made sure there were no secrets between us and past relationships. I knew I was his first black girlfriend, I knew he was born and raised in the South too. So joining that and the fact that I am an immigrant did make me scared of a lot of things, the main of them being the fact that it isn’t uncommon at all for men to always find their way back to that they are used to. 

So seeing her upon him all the time while people online barely know about our relationship feels like hell. Because even though I’m in family pictures that his sisters post online, and the very visible ring on my finger I am never considered the option of being his significant other. She is. Every single time. And he never did anything about it - hell, he never even set boundaries with her and she knows that we’re together. Am I really reading too much into things? 

Being three months away from our wedding day, this isn’t the kind of thought or conversations I would like to be having. I should be fucking excited and dress hunting, but lately the only thing that I feel like doing is swallowing lumps and holding back tears, faking smiles and pretending I’m fine. I’m not, I’m fucking falling apart and I’m so tired of begging to be seen. 

“I don’t know how else to tell you that I am not comfortable with this and that you shouldn’t be either,” I point out as the first tear cross the edges of my cheeks. “I don’t know how else to ask you to respect our relationship.”

“I respect our relationship, I always did. I just don’t think that what you’re saying right now makes any sense. Whatever I had with her in the past is over.” He says as he runs one of his hands through his face.

“Drew, honey, you’re not seeing things from my point of view. Imagine if it was me catching planes every other day to be with someone that I was involved in with in the past. And all of our friends know that you and I are together. How would that make you feel?”

At that he says nothing but silence can mean many things, and in this case it means consent. 

Tired of this back in forth conversation, I reach for my phone that was besides his on the counter and as if the timing couldn’t be more right, the screen of his phone lights up with an incoming call. No surprise flashes through my features as I see the picture on the caller id, both of them in a mirror picture as they brush their teeth.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I confess watching as he reaches for his phone quickly declining the call. “Not when you’re up to your eyeballs into whatever this is. I’ll make the calls tomorrow and cancel the dates with the venue.”

I grab my phone and my purse and I walk towards the front door before he can say anything else, I’m closing it behind me. 

[teaboot]

if ur a murderbot nerd now do u have any fun opinions abt it yet?

Oh my goddd you have no idea

I really, really, really like Murderbot because it comes at life with this perspective we don't often see that is very real among people who have already been through traumatic experiences, who developed skills and abilities to suvive that were once useful but no longer have context- that search that traumatized people go through to recalibrate and reorient ourselves in a world where we no longer really need those things to survive.

A bit personal here, but my own issues personally involved a lot of psychological abuse that made it difficult to trust my own perceptions of reality, and as a result I found I was very easy to lie to and manipulate.

To handle this, I became obsessive over writing things down, cataloging details and making notes of things as they happened- I'd carry recording devices and make audio recordings and stay up late at night to transcribe what they'd picked up, read those over and over again to reassure myself of things I wasn't certain about.

While doing this, there were others close to me that I felt responsible for, who I had to protect from others and protect myself from at the same time. Life was about two things: Evidence, and defusing threats

Over time, I learned to trust myself as my memories matched what had been recorded where their narrative didn't, but I never really kicked the habit. Like Murderbot, I had added something to my own programming that reassured me I was safe, that I was in control of myself, that I couldn't be mistaken or crazy or broken or used.

I'm only on book two, but already I see myself in Murderbot again. No spoilers here, but when I left home- left that dangerous context- I didn't need to repeat these patterns to survive anymore, but I still did, because I didn't know anything else anymore. It felt safe, comfortable, knowing knowing that the past couldn't repeat itself, because I'd written that flaw- blind trust in myself-  out of my programming and replaced it with something else.

Still, though, I'd become something specially suited to thrive in a very specific environment. Nothing else felt right like followinghigh-risk situations, like witnessing and watching and recording and knowing I had proof of the truth where others might not.

People took notice. I wound up in security by accident, but's an environment that I thrive in due to the same patterns and behaviours I originally developed when I had no other choice. I climbed the ladder pretty quickly, once supervisors caught on that my reports were the most accurate, most objective, most factual, detail-oriented and timely. I keep others and myself safe and prioritize public safety above all else, and I perform well under pressure

Now I'm in a position where I often wonder, do I enjoy this job, or is it just what I'm good at? I have a set of skills now, but do I have the option of choosing not to use them? What would I be, if not this? Could I be anything else? Can Murderbot be anything else?

It has a set of skills that set it apart, make it different, special. It does what it knows best. But is it free? Does it want to be? What does it want? Does it have to do what it was built to do? What if it didn't?

I know what I'm good for. The idea of deliberately leaving what I'm good for for something uncertain, that I might hate, that I might be useless at- the choice to give up what was so important to me for so long and become deliberately obsolete?

Let go of my entire purpose? The only thing I know, that I fit so well into but don't actually know if I enjoy? Now that I can choose? Now that enjoyment is a luxury I can afford to consider?

Yeah, that resonates.

I like the Murderbot series so far because it feels the way I feel: Like the most significant and formative part of my story, the part where I became what I am, has already happened

And now I have to just. Keep going

Into... what?

It feels absurd. Like a microwave giving up on reheating food and deciding to start a life around abstract dance.

So, uh. Yeah. It's really very wild to see this same philosophical-ish dilemma I've been digging over in the back of my mind and in therapy for the last forever laid out so plainly in a genuinely exciting and enjoyable story like this. I feel much less alone, and I... kind of really need to see how it resolves, I think.

So, uh. Yeah. Read Murderbot, I guess

[sirfrogsworth]

Early voting to beat the lines... the best-laid schemes of mice and men often go awry.

So... yesterday was quite the day.

After being stuck in bed for the past 6 weeks with some mystery slump, I was finally feeling better. So I decided I would try to cram as many errands into my day as possible. That works better for me when I drive out into the world because I end up only having to do one big recovery instead of a bunch of little recoveries.

My to-do list...

Go to the doctor

Vote early

Return oxygen machine to FedEx store for scammy eBay guy

Return Amazon package to the UPS store

Get gasoline for my whip

Go to Discount Tire to get my tires filled for free

Drop a check off for my lawn guy

Mail a secret package to Katrina at the US Post Office

It would have been nice if I could have gone to just one shipping place instead of all three, but the universe has a sense of humor and likes to do shit like that to me on a regular basis.

So, I get my checkup, it goes quick, no long wait, I'm feeling good.

As I get in my car, it starts to rain. It was an ugly day and it actually has not stopped raining to this very moment a day later. Just gray, windy, chilly, and wet. I look up the voting place and start the GPS.

Wipers and music on full blast, it's time to get my vote on.

When I reach my destination, I realize early voting is at some kind of private golf club. And at the center is a recreation center—which is a public building.

So it's like this private/public turducken situation.

I was expecting this errand to take 20 minutes. Because early voting always seemed like a way to get in before the crowds of election day for a more convenient voting experience.

But the parking lot was packed and I feared my expectations were about to be subverted.

As I walk through the parking lot I see a bunch of signs in the ground.

And a particular one caught my eye.

This is bullshit.

Like, just a straight up lie. No truth to it whatsoever.

Amendment 3 in Missouri basically restores abortion rights in the state. And Republicans have taken issue with the following language...

"The Government shall not deny or infringe upon a person's fundamental right to reproductive freedom, which is the right to make and carry out decisions about all matters relating to reproductive health care, including but not limited to prenatal care, childbirth, postpartum care, birth control, abortion care, miscarriage care, and respectful birthing conditions."

They claim the phrasing "but not limited to" means you can give an 8-year-old kid "sex change surgery."

This is how their online flyer puts it...

It could also include a free puppy.

Or a zillion bucks.

Or a clown will come to your house after the abortion and honk your nose.

It's ridiculous and desperate. I honestly don't know how it is legal for them to put a lie like that outside of a polling location, but here we are.

The organization "Missouri Stands with Women" is run by... a man.

It was set up by a lawyer named "Edward Greim" on behalf of the Federalist Society.

His law firm has a lovely biography about him. And a bunch of publicly available contact information. I say that for no reason whatsoever.

The Federalist Society funds all kinds of shit like this. Their main thing is installing conservative judges all over the country who will reinterpret or negate legislation. And they do it all to "stand with women" by taking away their reproductive rights.

Here is the board of directors of the Federalist Society.

Ya know, before I looked this up, I said to myself, "I bet it's going to be a sausage fest." I am psychic.

I think it would be more accurate to say they stand with A woman.

Just one.

And she sucks.

Nicole is a law professor at Notre Dame. She chose her Catholicism over her right to choose. The Catholic Church will fuck your rights and your children and Nicole will help them do it.

Anyway... back to my quick and easy voting experience...

So as I'm walking in to vote I keep passing a ton of these awful signs. I notice an older woman standing next to the aforementioned "child sex change" sign and she says, "Can I talk to you about Amendment 3?"

At this point, I'm pretty angry. I look her dead in the eyes and say with my most assholish tone, "NO." as I walk past her.

And then she finishes her sentence...

"...to protect the reproductive rights of women."

Ah, dammit.

I thought she was an old Karen but she was cool as heck. Standing out in the rain telling people the sign is bullshit. I wanted to turn around and apologize but I was stuck in full social anxiety mode so I just kept walking.

If that old lady happens to have a Tumblr and follows me and is willing to read this giant story... I just want to say I am sorry. I thought you were awful and I should have let you finish your sentence. You're super cool and I'm happy there are folks like you fighting for what is right.

I get inside and a young woman greets me. She tells me the line is in the next room and points. I still wasn't quite sure what the situation was. The parking lot being full gave me pause, but I was still hopeful I could have a swift early voting experience.

But I walk through the doors and into a huge gymnasium and my heart sinks.

It's hard to represent in pictures how long this line is.

It goes all the way to the end of the gym, loops around, and comes back. At first I was not too discouraged, because there was a nice gentle ramp at the start of the line.

But then I notice several sets of stairs at different stages of the line. And I'm just thinking how hard it would be to stand in this line and then also having to go up and down several sets of stairs.

So I go back to the young woman working there and ask what their accessible voting options are. And she told me I could do curbside voting and points outside. I then notice a line of cars wrapped around the parking lot. I don't know how I didn't see them walking in, but I guess I was too busy being a jerk to elderly progressive women.

My biggest concern was time.

The longer this takes, the more energy I use up, the longer my eventual recovery will be.

They tell me the car option is the slowest. And I could be in line for 2 to 3 hours. And then an old man who seemed to be in charge walks over and tells me the fastest option is to stand in line.

So I walk back out to my car and grab my cane and decide to try the long serpentine gynasium line.

I start walking up the ramp and some of the other folks see how slow and labored I'm walking and they start encouraging me. "You can do it! You got this!" Which I suppose was meant to be a positive helpful thing. But I found it to be embarrassing.

I get to the end of the line and notice most of the line has bleachers directly next to it. So I decide to sit down and rest and figure out how I am going to survive this experience.

It took me a while to recover from the long walk to this spot. I watched a bunch of people pass me by and the line was actually getting much longer as I rested. I was not really sure what to do. I was trying to problem-solve this situation but the answer that kept popping up in my mind was just... "go home."

But I felt this was too important and that wasn't really an option.

My best idea was to ask someone if they would hold my spot in line. Perhaps I could just sit in the bleachers and follow them around in the line, staying as close to them as I could. But my social anxiety was set to maximum and I was not finding the courage to ask someone.

After about 10 minutes of sitting, resting, and thinking, I basically say, "Fuck it, I'll try to stand in line."

I get up and start walking to the end of the line.

Then I hear a voice yell out to me.

"Hey, man! Come over here! This is your spot!"

A young man was waving at me. He was accompanied by his wife. Both of them were dressed in black and they had a sort of goth skater aesthetic going on. He had a competitively bushy beard, but with less gray. And she had very vivid purple hair.

I was a little confused and still processing what was happening. Then they both started waving at me to join them in line. They remembered I got there just before and told me I should be in front of them. I walk over and thank them. Then he suggests...

"Hey, why don't you just sit in the bleachers and follow us around the line."

He suggested my idea!

Without me asking!

I felt like he read my mind or something.

Can bearded people read each others' minds? Was this some beard skill I was unaware of?

"I got you, man. You just sit and we'll keep your place."

And his violet hair'd significant other agreed. "Yeah, we got you."

The kindness of strangers was more accessible than my polling place and I was just so thankful in that moment.

So I sat in the bleachers and watched them traverse the line. In the middle of the gym there were some teenagers playing basketball. And so I just rested and watched them play.

That young man in the red pants was like a goddamn Harlem Globetrotter. He was just embarrassing the others. He was bouncing the ball behind his back and through his legs and then he just danced around his opponents like a figure skater. It was such an unbalanced matchup. He might as well have been playing 4th graders. Not only was he significantly faster and more maneuverable, but he was consistently hitting 3-pointers.

And then during a break, he ran towards the hoop, jumped from the free throw line, flew all the way to the net, grabbed onto the rim, and proceeded to do several pull ups as if they were the easiest thing in the world. I don't think I've seen anyone jump that far and that high in real life and it was just a bonkers display of athleticism.

I spent the entire wait watching him humiliate the others—hoping he would get a full ride scholarship to some prestigious university.

And I hoped the other boys paid attention in school and got straight As, because basketball was not going to work out for them.

As my new goth skater friends progressed through the line, I would make sure to keep sight of them. Every once in a while I'd give them a head nod to acknowledge we were in this together. After an hour and a half they were at the final segment of the line, so I sat next to the wheelchair folks.

I probably could have argued to sit with them in the first place. But I really did not feel like making the case that I was just as disabled as them and needed that level of consideration. The old man running things seemed quite stressed and was putting out 8 fires at once. And my anxiety wasn't really cooperating enough to be assertive in my needs.

But it worked out in the end, so I'm not going to dwell on the lack of accommodation for people who weren't *visually* disabled.

My new bearded friend neared the end and waved me over. I thanked him and his wife profusely.

I joked, "Thank you for adopting a voter."

They seemed confused by my joke.

"No problem, man. Happy to help."

I told him and his wife they truly saved me. "I honestly don't think I would have made it through the line." And then I looked back...

I said, "As crazy as this is, I do find this kind of turnout encouraging." His wife agreed and said, "We were saying the same thing!" And then I thought, "Can the wives of bearded people absorb the mind reading ability? I hope she can't read my mind right now. Although, I'm mostly thinking that her hair is a really cool shade of purple, so she'd probably find that complimentary."

As I waited to get my ballot I could hear the happy couple behind me. They were very cute. They were making fun of each other in a very lovey-dovey fashion. I had high hopes they were going to grow old and gray and purple together based on their chemistry. And I was just so thankful they were able to recognize that I needed help without me asking. Because I probably would have just caved to my anxiety and not asked for help otherwise.

I got my ballot and sat down to fill in all of the appropriate squares. Thankfully I had prepared a cheat sheet on my phone.

It was an exact replica so I was able to copy it and finish quite rapidly.

Then I fed my votes into the vote-eating monster and they gave me a sticker.

My quick 20 minute adventure to vote early only took 2.5 hours!

And because I didn't want to buck tradition, I stood outside in the wind and the rain and took a voting selfie.

Yep, that seems about right.

Ah, crap... that was only the second thing on my to-do list.

Let's speedrun the rest of this story, shall we?

I drove to FedEx. I hauled a 40 pound box inside. I plopped it on the counter and said, "Man, this thing is heavy!" as I tried to catch my breath. The 20 year old working there then lifted it like it was a feather and I felt great about that.

I drove to the gas station because I was nearly on empty—that is both a metaphor and not a metaphor. I filled my ride with go juice.

I noticed I was a mile from the tire store and they fill up tires for free. So I did that and the guy was super nice and complimented my tires. I felt both weird and proud about having my tires complimented. Like, I had nothing to do with my tires being nice. But I accepted the praise on their behalf.

I drove to the UPS store. The last time I was there I made a scene. They refused to box up a return and I got upset and wasn't feeling well and they had to find a chair for me to sit in because I was going to faint. So I was hoping the same woman wasn't there, but she was. She didn't recognize me, so it was fine.

I drove to my lawn guy's house. He wasn't home. I dropped a check in his mailbox. My checks have corgis on them. My checks are cute.

I drove to the post office. I sent a secret package to my bestie, Katrina. I'd tell you what is in it, but it is an inside joke and you wouldn't get it. The woman noticed my voting sticker and I couldn't help thinking about what I just accomplished to get that sticker.

On my way out I noticed a miracle.

2 of the 4 doors were fixed!

I mean, I don't know why they couldn't fix all 4, but now the employees won't freeze in the winter. So I take that as a win. It only took a year and a half to accomplish and I'm sure all of my phone calls and emails did not help at all. But I'm going to pretend I saved the day regardless.

And then... I drove home.

5 hours of errands.

I was so fucking tired. My back was on fire with pain. I immediately collapsed into my bed. I passed out. And I slept for 14 hours.

The End

[mysteriouswolf]

I'm going to start this off with saying it hurts. It fucking hurts. It hurts so, so much, and there's parts of me that still desperately want to look for a way out, to make him not the bad guy, but there isn't one.

Wilbur Soot is a fucking asshole. A piece of absolute trash, and it hurts. Because I've looked up to him for so many years now. He's been such an inspiration and comfort in my life, from dealing with issues I have myself, and giving me all the more reason to stay here. And now he's turned out to be like this. To anyone who's been following what I reblog about him, it's conflicting, because my thoughts seem to change by the minute. But I'm hoping in saying this I can clear my head and make a definite decision.

I will never be supporting Wilbur ever again. No matter how much better he gets, I don't care. What he did was unexcusable, and if you think otherwise, you can fuck off of my blog. His "apology" wasn't an apology, and for the most part all he did was defend himself. The responses from other content creators have pushed me to agree that yes, fuck Wilbur. He's an ass. I think I've stated this a couple times.

What he did to them, especially Niki and Tommy was inexcusable as well from what we know, and since Tommy is going on tour in about a week (if he's still going/up to it) PLEASE no one harass him with questions, or how he feels. Please, just leave him alone. I'm sure it's a lot to process for him too- even more than us.

I've seen some posts saying how we should be angry at other content creators for not speaking out sooner, but some of them have hinted at it/tried. And others haven't known enough, or didn't want to start causing something against him. The same reason Shelby didn't want to say his name. Maybe they couldn't. Please leave them alone.

The last thing I would like to say, is maybe controversial. If you disagree with me, I don't care, this is purely my opinion.

You can still enjoy his character. Your stories, your artwork, all that you've done with it. Don't feel bad about keeping it up, because that's yours now. You've worked so hard on it, and cared for that character so much that it's become far more yours than his. In regards to his music, I know his songs have provided a lot of us with comfort, including me. It's going to be really hard for me to stop listening to something I loved, but I'm going to make the effort- especially with his solo albums. Also, please don't harass the other members of Lovejoy. From what we know, they're lovely people, and if you're going to stop listening to them, great, do that, but don't harass them. Please. And if you do choose to listen to them, there's ways you can listen to music without supporting him- in my opinion covers are the best way to do that, but that one is up to you.

To wrap this up, I'd just like to say...please don't send death threats, or threats in general to anyone involved in this situation- including Wilbur. Leave them alone. Please.

This is subject to change if we get more information, but for now and the foreseeable future, this is my stance. I wish everyone hugs and comfort. This sucks. I'm sorry.

[indecenthoney]

"The Munchies"

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

Have you ever had that one friend who acts like a completely different person after consuming alcohol? I sort of do. She's a tad bit on the shy side. Up until you present her with some candy. Her eyes would literally glow up at the sight. Not to mention, she becomes the clingiest, most loveable thing. I may be to blame for encouraging such behaviors, but how could I not? I could never ever get another reaction out of her if I wanted to. Completely deadpan, with a cold demeanor. It's enough to break a man's heart. Which brings me to my current situation. I may have a little crush on her. Or well a relatively big one. I've been meaning to ask her out in a good mood, but as I mentioned I could never really get that reaction. I wanted to find some way to help her relax a bit without needing the candies. I don't know. I wanted her to like me for me, you know?

"Hey... How long are you going to be working on that? It wouldn't kill you to take a break, you know? Uhuh... Dude! Let's hang out... This project isn't due till what... Two weeks from now... We can totally take our time... We're already halfway through... So let's go play something! Me? What does it look like I'm doing? I'm hugging you... I'm not going to stop hugging you until you follow me to play video games... I know you hate it... That's why I'm hugging you, silly... Either way, it's a win-win for me... Aw... and here I thought I'd get to hug you for an hour or two? Good choice... C'mon, I'll show you to my room..."

On my way to my room, I found her eye-ing out my kitchen. It was pretty obvious what her intentions were. I wasn't really sure either what snacks I had lying around in there, but I sent her off to my room to choose a game while I scrounged around for something for her to eat.

"Do you want something sweet? I thought so... I'll see what I can do... Uhuh... Just head down the hall, to the right... Make yourself comfortable!"

It was inevitable. Then again, I guess I'd rather give her what she wanted rather than see her disappointed. You should have seen me. I was a man on a mission trying to find those snacks. Eventually, I realized that there wasn't any lying around and I had to bear seeing her sad. Is it a reaction? Yes. Is it a good one? No. I took my time cleaning up and figuring out what to tell her. On my way down, I found myself stopping at the door after hearing some "noises". At first, I assumed it was something coming from the television. With my curiosity piqued, I barged in without a second thought. Unfortunately, this put me in a compromising situation. Okay, I know it's my house. But I should know better than to walk in without a warning. My friend was there. Of course, she was. Where else would she be? You know, I just didn't expect her to be on my pillow. Rubbing herself against it. I stood in shock as she mindlessly grinded herself not paying any mind to me. it was like she was in a sort of trance.

"Hey! W-woah... Uhm... What the fuck are you doing? Hahaha... uhm... F-fuck..."

I wasn't entirely sure what to do especially since there wasn't anything to play off on. She was grinding away. No response. But upon closer inspection, there were wrappers scattered on the floor and bed. The shy little thing got herself high from consuming the edibles placed on the tableside near my bed. I quickly rushed over to stop her. Placing my hands around her hips to keep her down. Only whimpers and tears were replaced with the sudden stop.

"H-hey... Shhh... Shhhh it's okay... I'm sorry... Ugh fuck... What am I supposed to do with you? Uhm... Let's see... H-hey! C'mon... It's okay... Why are you still crying? You can rub... It's okay... Stop crying, okay? I'm sorry for stopping you... "

After consuming this many brownies, I doubt she'd be able to speak. I'm surprised she was still even functioning at this point. I didn't expect her to have such a drastic personality change after a few brownies. She wouldn't stop crying. I soon realized her trying to move her hips faster. I guess the stimulation wasn't enough to satisfy her. Luckily, I had an idea. Not to fulfill my own selfish desires, but to help a friend out. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Leave her a whimpering sobby mess?

"I-it's okay... Just for a moment... Sit here... I know... I know it hurts... But we'll get it settled in a bit... You just have to be a good girl and listen, okay? That's it... Such a good girl... Does it feel good when I rub you there? Hm? I know it's hard to talk... Just nod your head... Yeah? Ah no... No moving your hips... If you wanna feel good then you'll have to listen, don't you? That's it... Nice and easy... Keep those legs spread for me, hun... Such a pretty lady... So needy... So wet... I'm only rubbing your clit and you're just leaking... Why don't we take these off, huh? We wouldn't want to ruin your panties more than we already have... Shhh... It's okay I'm just taking these off and we'll continue... I'll give a little more than just rubbing... I promise... Oh fuck... A literal bitch in heat... Gonna slide a finger in, okay? Oh? Well, don't you fit perfectly around my fingers... So tight... Mm... What pretty little noises you have... There's no need to be shy... It's okay to feel good..."

Slowly digging away into her deepest parts causing her to spasm. Choking on her moans as the pleasure increases. Her hands clasped around my forearm. A sign informing me that she's close to the edge. Slowing down my pace even more to keep from finishing too quickly. Soft slow strokes. My middle finger moving in and along her slit. A flick at her clit once at the top. Sending a shockwave of spasms throughout her body. I knew it was about time to give her a break. Running my fingers along her body; lifting her shirt. My hands finding their way up her bra. Running circles around her perky breasts. Pinching. Poking. Tugging.

"Hm? You're going to have to use your words... I'm not going to be able to understand you if all you do is moan and whimper... Please? You wanna cum? What's the magic word? Fine... In a bit... I'm still having my fun... Oh? Sensitive there, are we? Be good and I'll give you your reward... Pretty little thing... Does it feel good? Uhuh yeah? Sound so fucking stupid when I touch you here... Are you going to cum just from your nipples being played with? No cuz that would be pathetic, wouldn't it? Almost there, hun... Keep it up... You're doing such a good job for me..."

Hands appreciating every nook and cranny of her body. Tempting her but never really touching the place that needs it the most. Lips pressed. Tongues rolled. A dance of oral pleasure. The taste of brownies lingered on my tongue. How many wrappers were there? I wouldn't be surprised if I got high from tasting her lips. If it were my choice, I would spend an eternity in this bliss. However, she quickly made her needs known. Whimpers and tears once flood the room. Her inability to stay still grew restless as I toyed with her body. One final kiss and I was on my knees. Pulling her hips to the edge of the bed. The softness of her thighs welcomed my cheeks with each kiss. I start to salivate; eager to run my tongue along the drippy mess I've made. In my own trance, I started eating away at her. A different type of hunger had filled me. Something that couldn't be satiated so easily. I wanted her to quake my touch. Moan at the very thought of me. Get wet at every little word I mutter as I adore her perfection.

"Mmph... Fuck... you taste so good, hun... Mmm... I know... I know... I shouldn't talk with my mouth full... I can't help it... You're just too damn pretty right now..."

Her grip tightens; pulling my head into her. Her morality leaking between her legs as I lapped my tongue into her depths. A wave after wave of orgasms causes her to shake. Even with my tongue gently finding its way around her clit, it brings her to the edge over and over. I found pleasure in serving her. With cock in hand, I stroked myself to completion. Even then it was barely enough to fill that hunger. Grabbing her wrists I stood above her; pinning down her arms before placing my cock against the opening of her pussy. Feeling her squirm on the tip. Watching her eyes roll back as the length of cock disappears into her.

"Hey hey... Shush... You're doing such a great job... Mhm... I know you came... I'm sorry, sweetie... Just a little longer, you can take it... All you have to do is stay still and be pretty, okay? Can you do that for me, hun? Mhm... Good girl... Not a single thought behind those pretty eyes, huh? That's it... Cum as you please... I'm not stopping you..."

Hands pinned above her head as I rut into her in the most animalistic, primal way. Enjoying every bit of her reactions as I pump my cum back into her. Even as she drifts off to sleep, I found myself using her and using her. Satiating my hunger. I was unsure of how things would play out tomorrow, so I wanted to enjoy myself while it lasted. Making my mark. Filling her to the brim. I wore myself out. But even then, I wanted to use her. Finger the very holes I came in. Fucking her with my fingers to keep the cum from leaking. Never wanting this happiness to end.

"Oh! You're awake... What happened? Well... You kinda nodded off while I was looking for snacks... You okay? A dream? You were moving a lot during it... but I didn't wanna wake you from your nap... Sore? Hm... You're probably just hungry... Here... I found some brownies... It's really good... You should try some!"

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

Take a bite,

Honey

[sexilene]

can i please request reader going off to collage and not wanting to go and leave rafe, and then he convinces her that its okay not to go and stay with him? if it's a little confusion im sorry!

ive got ya!! xoxo!!! (sorry about any spelling mistakes, im like so beyond sleepy rn idk whyyy!!!!)

"hey baby? where are the suitcases, packed already?” your boyfriend shouts from the hall, wondering where all your stuff that was once out ready to get packed, is gone from where he last saw it.

“uh- almost,” you call back, watching him walk into your room carefully trying not to spill your sleepy time tea in his hand, staring down at the cup until he places it on your nightstand. "did you put em away?-" he begins, before you cut him off,

“ray?”

“yeah?”

“i need to talk to you about something…it’s nothing bad i promise…” your eyes wide and full of an emotion he can't quite place. he stares down at you sitting on the bed, crossing his arms waiting to hear what you've got to say. “okay, what’s up?”

“weeeell, i'm really proud of myself about getting in but i’m still a little nervous about going away…leaving you…” you ramble, avoiding eye contact with rafe. “got separation anxiety?” he laughs, bending down to be at eye level with you.

“don’t joke right now rafe, m’serious!” you whine, going to hide your face in your hands when rafe grabs your wrists ever so gently to direct your attention back on him. “sorry, sorry baby…continue." your boyfriend whispers, softly rubbing the skin on your wrist back and forth with his thumb.

you take a deep breath to keep the tears at bay “i’ve just been thinking about it a lot and i don’t wanna be half away across the country! and of course i know how important college is-”

rafe interrupts you by shrugging and muttering out an “eh,” as if to dismiss the importance of college,

“but…”

“but what, baby?” his eyes innocently looking up at you,

“what if i didn’t go? like i want to, but i don’t and it's all so stressful and i feel like i’m gonna disappoint everyone if i don’t go…” a tear then streaming down your face faster than you can wipe it away to keep him from seeing you cry over this.

your sweet boyfriend's heart twists with every tear that follows, he lets go of your wrists to hold your hands in his much bigger, warmer ones and shushes your fears, “hey- hey okay…just relax a minute kid, if you don’t want to you don’t have to. i say it all the time, can’t fucking wait to put a big ass diamond on this finger. and you won’t gotta worry about anything, cause i promise i’ll take care of you.” he tells you, a smirk on his face, trying his best to reassure you.

“i know but i don’t want to look stupid by being the girl who got into an amazing school but then chose to marry her first boyfriend and stay here!” you realize it's not the nicest thing to say out loud but it is- or would be the truth.

“what’s stupid bout being my little housewife?” rafe furrows his eyebrows, bringing his lips down to kiss every single one of your fingers. “aight listen, i’m so proud of you for getting in and doing the preparation for it but if you feel like your mind has changed that's not a bad thing. im fuckin’ relieved you wanna stay, and if you wanna still go to school there’s always UNC… you’d be closer.” your boyfriend was always very good at reasoning, especially with you. he could calm you in any situation with a couple of wise words and kisses.

“yeah…” you sigh, and wipe your nose with the back of your hand, letting go of his. and sure it's relieving to know that you could always choose to make that decision later, yet the thought in the back of your mind still present, telling you not to end up as another figure eight stepford wife.

and as quickly as the thought crept back into your mind, rafe was able to make it disappear “look, i love you babydoll and im gonna support you as you support me yeah? whatever you want, i'll get it for you you know that... you belong here, with me.” he stands back up again, hands reaching down to wipe the remaining tear droplets on your cheeks gently, to show you he cares ever so much about you and how much he wants to be soft with you- as if you could break like a china doll. “kay, so no tears. did your makeup so pretty today baby...”

your wet lashes sticking together, doe eyes staring up at him with love and admiration. “you’re my best friend ray. i love you, so much my heart hurts.”

“and you're mine, and i love you more than anything ever- and you can sleep on it you know? don't have to make up your mind right here." he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

ᥫ᭡.

[goddessinnerglow]

Become Your Best Version Before 2025 - Day 12

Stress Management

After yesterday's conversation about taking care of our bodies, let's talk about something we all deal with but don't always know how to handle: stress.

We all deal with it. Sometimes it’s that nagging voice in the back of your mind when things pile up. Other times, it’s a full-blown “I’m about to explode if one more thing goes wrong” kind of feeling.

Stress is part of life. But letting it run the show? That’s not the vibe we’re going for. Today, we’re going to build a stress management toolbox, a go-to set of tools and practices to help you handle life’s curveballs.

The 5-5-5 Technique

This one's my go-to when I'm feeling overwhelmed. Name 5 things you can see, 5 things you can hear, and 5 things you can feel right now. It sounds simple, but it works like magic to bring you back to the present moment. Try it next time your mind is spiraling, you might be surprised!

The Stress Dump Journal

Get yourself a notebook (nothing fancy needed!) and spend 10 minutes writing down EVERYTHING that's stressing you out. Don't filter, don't judge, just let it all out. I do this before bed sometimes, and it's like taking a heavy backpack off my shoulders.

The Three-Breath Reset

When you're in the middle of a stressful situation and can't step away, try this: Take three deep breaths, but make them count. On the first breath, acknowledge how you're feeling. On the second, release some tension from your shoulders and jaw. On the third, remind yourself that this moment will pass.

Movement Work

Sometimes when I'm stressed, I just need to move. It doesn't have to be a full workout, even a 5-minute dance party in your room or a quick walk around the block can help shift your energy. My personal favorite? Kitchen dance parties while making dinner!

The Comfort Menu

This is something I created for myself, and it's been a game-changer. Make a list of things that bring you comfort, divided into categories:

5-minute fixes (like hugging a pet or making tea)

15-minute solutions (like taking a short walk or doing a quick meditation)

30-minute remedies (like taking a bath or calling a friend)

Then, when stress hits, you don't have to think about what might help, you already have your personalized menu ready to go!

Remember, building your stress management toolkit is a personal journey. What works for me might not work for you, and that's totally okay! The key is to experiment and collect the tools that feel right for YOU.

Here's your mission for today (if you choose to accept it): Try at least one of these techniques, and then add your own tool to the kit. It could be anything, maybe you find peace in organizing your sock drawer, or perhaps humming your favorite song works wonders for you. Whatever it is, add it to your toolkit.

As always I'd love to learn from you too! So, Share with me in the comments, or send me a message.

See you tomorrow for Day 13!

♡ ☆:.｡ Keep glowing, babes! ♡ ☆:.｡ With love, Goddess Inner Glow.

[kanmom51]

Are you sure?

A few thoughts for now.

Do we talk about the layering once again?

We got this official explanation for the name:

Layer 1 -

Them dealing with "unexpected events" and dealing with them discovering "what was "Sure" for them".

Interesting choice of wording.

What's "Sure" for them... in the situation. But see, that can take on many meanings as well.

What to eat, how to sleep, what to do in the situation can be one explanation. Another can be to do with how do they choose to behave in the situation in front of the camera. Do they allow us to see sides of them we weren't privy to until now?

And this all coming out right after JM's Muse, and SGMB (yes JM, we get that you love someone very special and want to hold their hand...and go on trips with them and hug them and....so much more).

So, more than one layer within that description alone?

We also got this for the press release:

So is that all the name is about?

Two friends in funny situations having to decide what to do?

Knowing those two...

I am kind of feeling that the answer to that is an astounding NO!!

Is the "are you sure?" a question asked by them, asked of each other, or perhaps it's also a question we, the audience, will be asking ourselves while watching those two's "undeniable chemistry" if indeed all we are seeing is just an "endearing friendship" !!!????

(To which my answer, even without seeing it yet, would be: Heck nah!!)

Yep. There you go.

LAYERS.

Next...

Let's talk about the numbers for a second.

Yeah, I know some of you don't love the topic, but t'i's what t'is, I'm going there, cause I wanna.

8.8.2024

8 Episodes.

19.9. last episode released.

Let's talk about every one of those and all of them together.

The number 8.

8

on repeat.

8 can represent eternity.

Have we seen them use this motif before?

8 is also considered a lucky number in Korean culture.

It is considered a symbol of wealth and prosperity.

But we are getting 8.8.8 (either from the full date or the partial date and number of episodes) - so, 888 Angel number.

Yeah. I went there!!! I did have help from a special someone who guided me there (not sure they want their name mentioned, so I'll keep it to myself atm, lol).

Twin flame.

Power couple.

New heights.

Wealth... legacy...

Tick, tick, tick to all of the above.

And what about the last episode release date?

19.9

Do you see it?

I do.

1- 18 (9+9)

Or dare I say...

11-8

You might ask me:

Are you sure?

Huh, see what I just did there?

🤣

I think that anyone that denies the importance of numbers and dates to those two is ignoring not only their cultural background and context but them as well, as they have showed us time and time again that numbers are a thing they do. So, could this be intentional? Hell yes, it could.

But you know, even if they didn't mean all of this with the dates and numbers, it's kind of amazing how the universe always aligns for them.

So bottom line, either it's their choice, and that says so much, or it's the universe aligning for them, which would be wow, but then again, it seems to always align for them. Oh, so yeah, not wow, but WWWWWOOOOOWWWWW then!!!

[rispwr]

Still with you - JK - MDNI - PART ONE

pairings : ex!jk x ex!reader

genre : fluff, angst

context : after breaking up with your boyfriend for 14 years for cheating on you, choosing to still stay with him in his apartment wasn't quite the best idea. especially after seperating.

warnings/contents : smut, mentions of ppregnancy, cheating, rape, unprotected sex, alcoholism, degrading, and this jungkook should be a warning.

songs : house of balloons, swim, into it, goodluck, babe, so high, bloodline

this fic only has maybe 2 or 3 chapters

I wake up on the couch, feeling the ache in my back from sleeping in the same uncomfortable position all night.

 It takes a moment for everything to come rushing back—the familiar smell of his apartment, the soft hum of the refrigerator, and the memory of why I'm here in the first place.

I sit up slowly, wincing as I push the blanket off me. My clothes from yesterday are wrinkled, sticking to my skin in all the wrong places. I hate that I’m still here, stuck in this stupid situation, relying on him of all people. I run a hand through my tangled hair and look around, trying to remind myself that this is temporary. Just a month. I can survive a month.

The bedroom door creaks open, and I stiffen. Of course, he’s awake. Jungkook steps out, looking annoyingly casual in his sweatpants and t-shirt, his hair all messy like he just rolled out of bed. He sees me and flashes that stupid smile, the one that used to make my heart skip a beat. Now, it just makes me want to throw something.

"Morning," he says, his voice soft.

I don’t respond, refusing to meet his eyes as I start folding the blanket. Each movement is sharp, almost aggressive. I focus on the fabric in my hands, trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling. Why does he have to act like everything’s fine? Like he didn’t just cheat on me?

Jungkook walks past me to the kitchen, humming some tune under his breath. I hear the coffee maker sputter to life, and the smell of brewing coffee fills the room. It’s almost enough to calm me down. Almost.

"if you're still not over about that babe-" before he could utter a word, i cut him off " don't call me babe."

I grit my teeth and ignore him, the anger simmering just below the surface. The blanket finally folded, I toss it onto the couch with a little too much force and cross my arms, glaring at his back. He’s acting like nothing’s wrong, like he didn’t break my heart just a few weeks ago.

"I wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch if I didn’t have to be here in the first place," I mutter under my breath, knowing he’ll hear.

Jungkook pauses, glancing back at me. He leans against the counter, crossing his arms like this is just another one of our casual conversations. Like we’re still friends or something.

"You know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need," he says, his tone irritatingly calm. "I don’t mind."

That’s not the point, Jungkook. I wouldn’t need to stay here if you hadn’t fucked up and cheat on me like i was nothing.

I stop myself before I go down that road again. We’ve been over this too many times, and it never ends well. I bite my lip, turning away from him and grabbing my phone from the coffee table. I need to get out of here. Anywhere but here.

"I’ll be out of your hair soon enough," I say, more to myself than to him.

I can feel his eyes on me, that gentle concern that used to make me feel safe but now just makes me feel...trapped. I don’t look back at him as I head to the bathroom, needing a moment alone to pull myself together.

i went to the bathroom

I close the bathroom door behind me, leaning against it as I let out a shaky breath. 

My heart’s still pounding, adrenaline making my hands tremble slightly. It’s always like this.

 being around Jungkook is like walking on a tightrope, and I’m constantly teetering on the edge. I can’t even look at him without feeling that mix of anger and something else I don’t want to name.

I turn to the mirror, avoiding my own reflection for a moment as I focus on the running water, splashing some on my face. The coolness helps, grounding me a little.

 My fingers shake as I comb through my hair, trying to smooth out the mess that sleeping on the couch always leaves behind. It’s not like I’m trying to impress anyone, but I can’t stand looking as disheveled as I feel inside.

Why does he have to be so calm?

 So unaffected by everything?

 It’s like nothing phases him, like he doesn’t care that I’m practically bursting with everything I haven’t said.

 I clench my teeth, rubbing at the dark circles under my eyes. I haven’t been sleeping well. how could I, in this situation?

I need to get out of here.

 I can’t stand being in this apartment any longer, can’t handle the way it makes me feel trapped. I don’t even know where I’m going, but anywhere is better than here.

 I grab my toothbrush, quickly brushing my teeth as if it’ll help me escape faster, then run a hand through my hair again, tying it up in a loose ponytail. It’s the best I can do with the time and patience I have.

The moment I step out of the bathroom, I feel the weight of the apartment pressing down on me again. Jungkook’s still in the kitchen, probably drinking his coffee without a care in the world.

 I grab my bag from the couch, trying to be quiet about it, but the strap catches on the blanket, making me fumble. My breath catches as I hear him shift in the kitchen, like he’s going to say something, but I’m out the door before he gets the chance.

The cool air hits my skin as I walk into the coffee shop, offering a welcome escape from the heat outside. I’ve been coming here a lot lately. maybe too much. but it’s one of the few places where I can just...breathe. 

No drama

no tension

no jeon jungkook

just the comforting smell of coffee and a quiet corner to lose myself in.

As I approach the counter, I notice a new barista. He’s got dark hair that falls over his eyes, giving him a kind of laid-back vibe that instantly catches my attention.

 There’s something about him that seems...different. He’s not just going through the motions like most baristas.

 He’s calm, almost serene

as if he’s moving at his own pace, completely unaffected by the rush of the city outside.

I find myself lingering a little longer than usual, trying to read the chalkboard menu even though I already know what I’m going to order. When I finally step up to the counter, he looks up at me, his eyes meeting mine with a gentle curiosity.

“Hey, what can I get you?” His voice is smooth, a little deeper, and I can’t help but notice the way his lips curve into a small, almost shy smile.

“Just a latte, please,” I reply. There’s a warmth in his gaze that I can’t quite place, something that makes me feel like he actually cares about what I’m going to order. 

It’s silly, but it’s nice.

He nods, turning to start on my drink, and I watch as he moves with an effortless grace, like he’s done this a million times but still finds some sort of joy in it. 

There’s a quiet confidence about him that’s both intriguing and comforting.

As he works, I find myself leaning against the counter, feeling more at relax than I have in days. “You’re new here, right? I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Yeah, just started a couple of weeks ago,” he replies without looking up, focused on the precise art of frothing the milk. “Name’s Yoongi.”

“Y/N,” I say, offering a small smile, even though he can’t see it. “I come here a lot, so...guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

He glances up at that, his eyes meeting mine again, and this time, there’s a flicker of something. more of a spark of interest that makes my heart skip a beat.

 “I’ll look forward to it.”

My smile widens a little, and I duck my head, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. There’s something about him that’s just...easy. Natural. Like we’re already friends, even though we’ve barely exchanged a few words.

He finishes my latte and slides the cup across the counter with a soft “Here you go.”

 I take it, our fingers interact for the briefest moment, and I swear I feel a tiny jolt of electricity at the contact.

Maybe it’s just the caffeine deprivation, but I can’t shake the feeling that this guy—Yoongi—might be exactly what I need right now.

“Thanks,” I murmur, taking a sip. It’s perfect, just the right amount of foam, the espresso rich and smooth. I glance back at him, and he’s watching me with a quiet smile, like he’s pleased that I like it.

“See you around, Y/N,” he says as I turn to leave, his voice lingering in the air even after I’ve stepped away from the counter.

I find my usual spot by the window, sinking into the plush chair with a contented sigh. 

There’s something about that new barista that makes me want to come back here, even more than I already do.

 It’s not just the coffee, although that’s definitely a bonus.

 It’s him. 

the way he made me feel like I wasn’t just another customer, like maybe I was someone worth getting to know.

As I sip my latte, I catch myself smiling, a real, genuine smile that I haven’t felt in a while.

 Maybe things aren’t so bad. Maybe, in this little coffee shop with its warm light and soft music, I’ve found something, or someone...worth sticking around for.

[estapa-edwards]

SECOND CHANCE - L.HUGHES

paring: Luke Hughes x fem! reader

word count: 1.5k

requested? yes- “do you… love me, by any chance?” “yeah, why?” “well, i’m sorry, i was just— WAIT WHAT—” w/ Luke Hughes!

warnings: use of y/n. established relationship.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

The New Jersey Devils were facing off against their arch-rivals, the New York Rangers, in a crucial divisional matchup. As always, I was in the stands, proudly wearing Luke's jersey and cheering him on. The atmosphere was electric, with both teams battling fiercely for every puck and every goal.

Midway through the second period, tensions on the ice began to escalate. A controversial call by the referees led to a power play for the Rangers, much to the dismay of the Devils and their fans. Luke, who was on the ice at the time, was visibly frustrated and exchanged heated words with the officials.

As the game continued, I couldn't shake off a feeling of unease. I knew that Luke was a passionate player who wore his heart on his sleeve, but tonight, his emotions seemed to be getting the best of him. When the Devils failed to kill off the penalty and the Rangers scored a go-ahead goal, Luke's frustration reached a boiling point.

With less than a minute remaining in the period, Luke was involved in a heated altercation with an opposing player. As fists flew and players from both teams rushed to join the fray, I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew that this was not the kind of player Luke wanted to be, and I was worried about the repercussions of his actions.

After the game, I waited nervously for Luke outside the locker room. When he finally emerged, his face was flushed with anger and disappointment. Without saying a word, I took his hand and led him away from the crowd, hoping to find a quiet place where we could talk.

We ended up in a secluded corner of the arena, far away from the prying eyes of fans and reporters. I could see the frustration in Luke's eyes, and I knew that this was the perfect opportunity to address the issues that had been brewing between us.

"Luke, what happened out there tonight?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm and steady.

"I lost my cool, okay? I let my emotions get the best of me, and it cost us the game," he replied, his voice tinged with regret.

"I understand that you're passionate about the game, but you need to control your temper," I said firmly. "You're a role model for so many young players, and you can't let your emotions dictate your actions on the ice."

Luke sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the ground. "I know, Y/N. I know I messed up, and I'm sorry."

As much as I wanted to comfort Luke and tell him that everything would be okay, I couldn't ignore the underlying issues that had been causing tension in our relationship. I took a deep breath and decided to address them head-on.

"Luke, this isn't just about tonight's game," I said, choosing my words carefully. "We've been arguing a lot lately, and I feel like we're drifting apart."What do you mean?" Luke asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"I mean that we've been struggling to communicate and understand each other," I replied, trying to articulate my feelings without placing blame. "Between your demanding schedule with the Devils and the pressures of our personal lives, it feels like we've been growing apart. I miss the connection we used to have, and I think we need to address these issues before they drive a wedge between us."

Luke's expression softened as he absorbed my words, realizing the gravity of the situation. "I didn't realize things had gotten this bad between us, Y/N," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I've been so focused on hockey and trying to prove myself on the ice that I haven't been giving our relationship the attention it deserves."

"I understand that your career is important, Luke, and I'm proud of everything you've accomplished," I said, reaching out to gently touch his arm.

"I understand that your career is important, Luke, and I'm proud of everything you've accomplished," I said, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "But maybe we should take a break from being together."

Luke looked at me, his eyes widening in surprise. "A break? Are you serious, Y/N?"

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. "I just think we need some time apart to figure things out. We've been arguing a lot lately, and it feels like we're not on the same page. I care about you, Luke, but I think we both need some space to evaluate what we want from this relationship."

Luke's expression hardened, and I could see the hurt and confusion in his eyes. "I thought we were doing okay, Y/N. I didn't realize you were feeling this way."

"I've been trying to communicate my feelings to you, but it seems like we keep hitting a wall," I replied, my voice trembling slightly. "I think a break could give us the opportunity to reflect on our relationship and determine if we're truly compatible or if it's time to go our separate ways."

Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair as he contemplated my words. "I don't want to lose you, Y/N, but I also don't want to force you into something you're not comfortable with. If you think a break is what's best for us, then I guess we should give it a try."

As we stood there, facing each other in the dimly lit corridor of the arena, I felt a mix of emotions - sadness, uncertainty, and a glimmer of hope. While I knew that suggesting a break was a risky move, I also believed that it was necessary to address the issues that had been causing tension and discord in our relationship.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Despite the agreement, the days that followed were tough for both of us. The absence of each other was more palpable than we had anticipated. Every time I heard a knock on the door or the sound of footsteps in the hallway, my heart would race, hoping it was Luke. The silence between us grew louder with each passing day, and the empty space beside me in bed felt colder than ever.

One evening, as I was preparing dinner in my apartment, there was a sudden knock on the door. My heart skipped a beat, and a rush of emotions flooded over me. Could it be Luke? I hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, before walking over to the door and cautiously opening it.

To my surprise and relief, there stood Luke, looking slightly disheveled and clearly out of breath. His eyes met mine, filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty.

"Luke, what are you doing here?" I asked, trying to maintain a sense of composure despite the whirlwind of emotions I was feeling.

"I couldn't stay away, Y/N," he admitted, his voice trembling. "I know we agreed to take a break, but I've been miserable without you. I miss you, and I needed to see you."

I looked into Luke's eyes and saw the sincerity and vulnerability that I had missed so much. Despite our decision to take a step back, it was clear that we were both struggling to stay apart.

"Come in," I said softly, stepping aside to let him enter my apartment.

Luke stepped inside, and I closed the door behind him, enveloping us in a moment of tension and uncertainty. We stood there, facing each other, as the reality of our situation sank in.

"Do you… love me, by any chance?" I finally blurted out, unable to hold back any longer.

Luke looked taken aback by my question. "Yeah, why?" he replied, his voice filled with confusion.

"Well, I'm sorry, I was just— WAIT, WHAT—"

Before I could finish my sentence, Luke closed the distance between us, cupping my face in his hands and pressing his lips against mine in a passionate kiss. The world seemed to fade away as we lost ourselves in the moment, our doubts and uncertainties melting away as our love for each other shone through.

As we pulled apart, gasping for breath, Luke looked into my eyes and spoke from the heart. "I do love you, Y/N. I'm sorry it took us this long to say it, but I want you to know that my feelings for you are real and true."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I wrapped my arms around Luke, pulling him close. "I love you too, Luke," I whispered, my voice filled with emotion. "And I'm sorry for doubting us. Let's promise to work through our issues together and make our relationship stronger than ever." 

Luke smiled, his eyes shining with happiness and relief. "I promise, Y/N. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us." 

Over the next few weeks, Luke and I made it a priority to nurture our relationship, setting aside time for each other amidst his demanding hockey schedule and my own commitments. We went on dates, explored new activities together, and most importantly, communicated openly and honestly about our feelings and concerns.

[mikwaa]

I'll always miss you, you will shine like gold in my memory.

Zhongli x Reader

Wc: 2.7k

Warnings: Angst, hurt no comfort, reader dies. Toxic relationship, Morax is an idiot brute, this is set in the Archon war, reader is a warrior.

A/n: I had this draft written here a while ago, decided to post it because it's one I really like. As the old Morax is described as a more rough and ruthless person, I imagine that for him to change there had to be a major event. And so I ended up writing this, maybe I'll do another ending because I genuinely don't like sad endings, but it went together so well I decided to leave it like this.

"Morax, please listen to me." And there you were, in one of those endless fights with your husband.

The reason this time was that you had found a group of people, begging for a place to stay, since they were wandering around. This group had been exiled from Sumeru, the reasons were not yet clear, nor did they know why. There were children, elders, even young pregnant women, you couldn't just ignore them and let them die.

And you had offered them a home in the Guili Plains, the place where the Liyue population was housed. But Morax did not accept, nor did he seem to want to change his mind.

"I've said what I think, and I'm not going to change it." And he didn't even look at you, on the contrary, he walked even faster to distance more from you.

"Can you stop being so irreverent?" You quicken your steps and stand in front of him, stopping him from moving forward.

He narrowed his eyes in your direction, his face turning into an angry frown, "I told you, don't make me repeat myself. If you choose to save those people, you can forget about coming back. I don't want you around." His words were sharp as blades, wounding as such.

And seeing his face without a drop of expression, without a single regret. How could he say such impactful things as if they were nothing?

"How can you talk like that? I'm your spouse, I'm just trying to help." You could already feel tears forming in your eyes, he always acted like a brute, but there were times you couldn't even handle it.

"You can help me by protecting my people, not by harboring strangers." The coldness with which he spoke to you was abysmal, it didn't even seem like you had any kind of relationship.

"They are people too, they have feelings too. They are afraid to die, they are simply out in the open."

"I care what's mine, we're in a war, we can't save everyone. And I chose to take care of what is mine, my territory together with my people". He states, with that usual stoic face. With that arrogance and selfishness that would drive anyone crazy with rage.

"So that's still a no?" Breathing heavily you ask him one last time, the hope you had of him giving in had simply vanished.

"It was always a no. If you're going to keep talking about it, you can save both your time and mine." Snide and sharp, he never seemed to change.

"Then you won't want me here anymore, I suppose." To his surprise, you wouldn't give up. You would keep your word no matter what.

"Go ahead." Nothing more, not a sentimentality, nothing. Just treating you like you were just another one of his pawns, like you were just another one in the crowd.

A hot tear ran down your face, your heart burning as if it had been recently scalded.

"Are you really going to treat me like this? Like I'm nothing to you, and this ring means nothing?" You removed the ring, holding it with trembling hands.

The engagement ring, which he had made for you himself, was so beautiful. With jade detailing all over the ring, and even more precious was the message it had, 'It will always be you'. According to him, it was to show how much you meant to him.

And now? Were those beautiful words just thrown to the wind?

He huffed, looking incredibly upset and tired of this situation, but he didn't show you anything, he wasn't sad, sorry, guilty, nothing. As if none of this mattered.

"Have it your way." Completely indifferent he mumbles.

"Okay." You threw the ring away, without even looking at where it went," If it meant nothing to you, it meant nothing to me."

Now he seemed to take some notice of you, but was clearly displeased.

But there was no time for him to talk or complain to you, you ran out of there. He wanted to go after you, but the pride he carried in his chest was stronger.

A feeling of guilt invaded his heart, but he still wouldn't let his feelings get the better of him, because he believed that you would go back on your decision.

You wouldn't exchange him for a group of people you barely know, but that was exactly the point he didn't understand. It wasn't that he wouldn't help you, it was the way he dealt with certain issues. He was so focused and objective, that should be good, but it wasn't the case with him.

He always complained that you think too much about others, just as you complain that his behavior is often harsh and hostile. He believed that you would come back, but he was wrong, very wrong.

it had been three weeks since you had even dared to look at each other. He couldn't swallow his pride, and neither could you. That arrogance and selfishness he possessed could get on anyone's nerves, and you were not immune to it.

No matter how many times you tried to make him understand that things were not practical as he claimed they were, he would never understand, he was a real brute.

And that was the last straw for you, people were not objects that he could control as and when he wanted, and he didn't seem to want to understand that.

You had left the village, and had no desire to return. You had tucked yourself away in a simpler hut and in a place you suspected Morax wouldn't go near. Even though you loved him so much, you doubted if he would ever change.

It was so many doubts mixed with the anger you felt about the things he said, you took it out on the monsters you met in front of you, without letting a single one escape.

With quick and precise blows, you used your blade with an unmistakable dexterity. But even this was not enough for what would happen next. A monster that you didn't even know what it was hit you, and ended up hurting you.

You didn't even know where it came from, you didn't even have time to react. Your body heaved and you fell to the grass abruptly, as you felt a sharp pain run through your entire body.

And when you managed to stabilize yourself and look at the monster, it was no longer there. It had already turned to dust.

"You with this stubbornness. You can't even take care of yourself." From the familiarity in his voice, it wasn't hard to guess that it was your husband.

"Shut up." You mustered the strength to speak, it seemed as if your strength was draining away second by second.

Even in such a state, the weakness and frailty you were in didn't seem to make any commotion in Morax.

"If you knew you wouldn't be like this." So cold, so distant. Every word of his hurt so much.

How could he be so indifferent? So cruel.

"You won't even see your spouse? You won't even try to take care of me?" Even though you tried to sound strong and imposing, all that came out was a shaky, tired voice.

"I'm no specialist in this. Go find help somewhere else, I told you I don't want you around." It wasn't just anger, it was a feeling of someone who had been defied, you hadn't followed his orders, and he was hating you for it.

You had traded him, that's what he had in mind, but you didn't leave because of that. You loved him like crazy, and you had helped him in many ways. But he still needed to think more about others, trust humans more.

To learn to understand that people were not just pawns that he moved when and how he wanted, it was far from that. And now he was experiencing the fact that someone might not follow his orders, and that someone was you.

He went to look over his shoulder one last time, as he began to notice a pool of blood starting to form around you, he hurried his steps over to you.

"I have to take you, the healers will help." Bending down close to you he whispers. The sudden change in behavior that soon showed his desperation.

"You know they won't, there's nothing else to do." You couldn't control the tear that welled up in your eye.

It had been a very deep wound, you didn't need any healer to tell you that you were hopeless, the village was far away, there would be no time to get there. Several other warriors had died like this, and it would be no different with you.

His stoic expression turned to one of terror, his pride gone in a matter of minutes.

"Don't talk foolishness." He nestles you in his arms, carrying you so gingerly that it seemed he was afraid of hurting you with the slightest touch.

"Leave me here," he opened his mouth to protest, and you continued, "Please."

He propped you up on his chest, wrapping you in the clothes of his own body, so that you were properly protected.

"Why are you so stubborn? I can't understand you." For the first time you heard him speak in a broken voice, he was trying not to cry.

"I just want to save time, you know you don't have much to do." You gently caress his face.

He wanted to tell you so much, but he couldn't put it into words, ever.

"I shouldn't have acted like that." Finally, he admitted it. But now it was too late for any regrets.

You intertwined your fingers with his, smiling faintly. He could feel your strength fading little by little, and he could do nothing.

You were too fragile, just like all humans. And he could do nothing.

Nothing.

He couldn't believe it, how could a being as powerful as him be so powerless like that? That shouldn't be right, but it was.

"Please stay." He pleads, but how could you fulfill that request? His voice was so shaken it sounded almost unrecognizable.

For the first time he was losing one of his partners, he had always protected them all as best he could, and none of them had gone so far. But the first was you, his first big loss was you. How would he be able to handle it? No, he couldn't.

"I will never forget your eyes, they are so beautiful." You say softly, almost inaudible.

And he let a tear escape, all the armor he had made in his heart had broken, and he couldn't control it. It was the love of his life leaving, all he could do was watch, how could he be so useless at a time like this?

"Stay, keep your eyes open, I'll get help, I'll…" Not even he himself believed his own words, much less believed that you could save yourself.

He felt so much guilt, how could he have been so negligent? He had never been very sentimental, but now he felt it all at once.

He could hardly describe his exact feeling, because he had no exact feeling. Now he understood all the human emotions you spoke of, a pity he could only understand now, on your deathbed.

The birds were singing, it was a beautiful day, the sun had the most beautiful glow. And yet Morax was there, on the grass with you in his arms, crying in despair like never before. The blood that stained the green of the vegetation, and the pain that remained impregnated in Morax's soul.

And then, like one of those tricks played by fate, everything fell silent. Morax sobbed softly, and made one last plea, "Don't leave me, I really care for you. I love you, stay here." He held your hand tightly, seeing how small it was compared to his.

It was the first time he had been that clear, he had never really opened his heart to you, a shame that the first time he said 'I love you', you were no longer there to hear it.

And as soon as he realized it, a faint cry was all that came out of Morax's mouth, followed by an audible sob. He realized that you died there, nestled in his arms, holding his hand, so angelic.

His beloved had left him, eternally.

Millennia had passed since your death, 3.800 years to be exact. Yet this hurt Morax so much that he was never able to forget you.

Even though he left the Archon life aside, now going by another name, Zhongli, and leading a more modest life as a simple Liyue citizen, the memories he had with you were vivid, shining like gold in his memory.

He martyred himself every day, he blamed himself, a guilt that he would never be able to eliminate from his chest, he would give everything, even his life for you to come back.

And today this feeling was stronger than ever, because it was the day of your death, the day you left him alone in this world. Another year had passed, and even so it seemed like yesterday when you died, at least that's how Morax felt.

And as he did every year, he bought your favorite flowers, picked them carefully to make sure that you would like them. Plus he provided the wine of his choice, it was the only thing that made his mind clear on a day like this, even if he wasn't very used to all that drinking.

When he was ready, he went to your tomb, which was made in the Guili Plains, the place where everything began, and also where everything ended. He always kept your grave clean, after all he visited you every day, no matter how hectic his routine could be, he would always come to your grave daily.

"I missed you, my dear." He says these words to the wind, anyone passing by would think he was crazy, but he didn't care.

He always spent hours talking to you, talking about everything that had changed, and how he had changed. He always thought that no matter where you were, you could always hear him.

Gently he put the flowers on the grave, and sat down on the floor, while pouring himself some wine. "I just wanted to remind you that I love you, more than anything else."

On a day like today, he wouldn't even try to hold back the tears, or the pain in his chest. He caught himself thinking how proud you would be to see the progress Liyue had made, how beautiful the city looked now.

He wanted to show you that he understood what you said in the last minutes of your life, he wanted to show you that you had become a better person. This was due to a great influence of yours, who now was not here to accompany him on this journey.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything I did, my beloved. You would think it magnificent the way everything has progressed, how humans could achieve so much." His voice choked, his face red as the tears came down without stopping.

'His beloved' , was so sweet when it came out of his lips, but so melancholy by the look in his eyes, those gentle golden eyes that expressed so much sorrow.

A love ended in such a way could hurt so much, and Morax knew it. He had experienced it so harshly, but he stood firm to keep the nation you two had fought so hard for standing, and he would keep fighting because he thought it was the way to repay you for all you had done for him.

Every time he remembered you crumbling in his arms, his heart squeezed in such a way. Your face paled along with your frail body, looking as if it would break at any moment. And with that he remembered how much he missed you in his arms, your laughter, the warmth of your body, your beautiful face.

He missed it all, and remembered these moments bitterly, but also joyfully, because he remembered when you were still with him.

He would protect the people at all costs, and keep everything safe as long as he was alive, he would watch over everything you believed in. He would gladly do this for the rest of his days.

Now all he could do was wait, wait for him to take his last breath. And then finally, finally he could meet you, and tell you everything that happened during those years.

[spankedquail]

Hi, Big Fan here!

I was curious about some of the things your Dom does for you that you love? Basically the things that make him a great Dom. Do you have any tips for the Doms out there? I'm mostly talking about out of the bedroom, but if there’s anything he does in the bedroom too, I'm sure we'd love to hear about it.

Thanks

PS: Thanks for all the post lately...

I love this question!

He protects what’s his

It’s not just physical safety, though that’s always there—his hand on my back, his body angled between me and the world. It’s emotional safety, too. He shields me from the unnecessary chaos of life, filtering out the noise so I can focus on what matters. He won’t let anyone take advantage of me or drain me—not friends, not coworkers, not even myself. And when I’ve overextended, when I’ve given too much and left myself empty, he steps in. He reminds me that I’m his, first, and he won’t let me burn out for anyone else.

He’s honorable

He doesn’t just say the right things; he does them. His word is a bond I trust implicitly because I’ve seen him live it, again and again. Like the night we weren’t charged for a $200 bottle of wine at a bistro. He could have let it go, taken the easy route, but he didn’t. Instead, he called the waiter back and insisted on paying. Not because anyone was watching, not because it benefited him, but because it was the right thing to do. That kind of integrity isn’t performative; it’s intrinsic to who he is. It’s the kind of man he chooses to be, and the kind of man I choose to trust with all of me.

He’s considerate in the quietest ways

When daylight saving time arrives, the clocks in our home adjust themselves as if by some unseen force. For the longest time, I believed it was the appliances—some fancy automatic feature I didn’t understand. But when I mentioned it, he laughed softly and told me it was him all along. He updates every clock without a word, without seeking thanks or acknowledgment. It’s not a grand act; it’s just one of a hundred tiny ways he quietly maintains the world we share.

And every night, he locks the door with the chain, checks the lights, and does his sweep of the house. I never asked him to do this, and yet, he’s done it since the beginning. It’s his way of ensuring that I can slip into bed without worry. That I’m safe, protected, and cared for, even before I’ve noticed the need.

He owns his domain

Everything in our shared life feels like it’s under his care, his protection. From the way he handles practical matters like paying bills or fixing things around the house, to the way he takes charge of the energy in our home, it all stems from his quiet, confident authority. He doesn’t have to tell me he’s in control—it’s something I feel in the way he moves, the way he speaks, the way he carries the weight of our world so effortlessly.

He makes me want to serve him

When I’m with him, my desire to serve goes beyond obedience—it becomes a need. It’s in the way he looks at me, the way he carries himself, the way he takes charge of every situation with such confidence that I can’t help but want to please him. Whether it’s making sure his coffee is just the way he likes it, or surprising him with little acts of service, I find myself wanting to anticipate his needs, to make him proud. There’s no greater reward than hearing him say, “Good girl,” and knowing I’ve done something to deserve it.

He takes pride in being a steady presence

When the world spins out of control, he remains calm, collected, decisive. I’ve seen him navigate travel delays and last-minute changes that would send most people spiraling. Instead of panicking, he organizes, reroutes, and somehow manages to keep things light and fun through it all. His steadiness isn’t just practical—it’s deeply grounding. It reminds me that no matter what happens, I’m safe in his care.

He commands respect without raising his voice

He never has to shout to get my attention. His authority isn’t loud or performative—it’s quiet and undeniable. When he speaks, I listen, not because I have to, but because I want to. There’s a weight to his words that makes me pause, consider, and recalibrate. Even when I’ve pushed too far, his calm, deliberate tone cuts through me more effectively than any outburst ever could. His control is a steady force, and it makes me want to fall in line, not out of fear, but out of respect.

He’s deeply attuned to me

There’s a reason I trust him so completely, especially when I’m vulnerable—he sees me. Not just the surface, not just the words I say, but the way I breathe, the way I shift, the subtle tension in my body. He watches me with the kind of care that makes me feel completely known.

When I’ve misbehaved, he never acts impulsively. His discipline is thoughtful, measured. Every strike, every correction, is deliberate, designed to remind me of who I am and where I belong. He knows exactly how much I can take and when to push me further. But he also knows when to stop. When to pull me close, stroke my hair, and remind me with quiet reassurances that I am his.

There’s a power in knowing that he holds me accountable—not out of frustration, but because he wants me to grow. To rise. To be better. And when I do, when I meet his expectations and feel his approval, there’s nothing sweeter.

Under his control, I don’t just feel cared for—I feel whole.

He demands my growth—and my surrender

I can’t grow unless I’m held accountable. Without his control, I’d stagnate—lazy, complacent, far too willing to let myself off the hook. But he doesn’t allow that. He demands better of me, pushes me to reach higher, and forces me to face myself in ways I never could on my own.

It’s not just about the goals we set for me—fitness milestones, career ambitions, new skills—it’s about becoming the kind of woman he wants. A better partner, a better wife, a better fuck. A woman who serves him without hesitation, who respects his leadership, who bends to his will but rises because of it.

And it’s not just about discipline in the abstract. It’s his hand on my cheek, firm and steady as he makes me look him in the eye while he tells me what I’ve done wrong. It’s the sting of the paddle when I’ve pushed too far. It’s the way he uses my body to teach me lessons I don’t want to learn but desperately need to.

When I falter, he’s there to catch me, but not before letting me fall just far enough to feel the consequences. His discipline reminds me that I’m his, that my growth isn’t just for me—it’s for him. For us.

He pushes me

He doesn’t let me coast. When I’ve grown too comfortable, he knows exactly how to shake me. A week of extra workouts. A stricter bedtime. The humiliating but strangely comforting ritual of writing lines while he watches. It’s not about punishment—it’s about reminding me that I can be better. That I want to be better, for him.

Even in the bedroom, his control drives my growth. I’m not allowed to cum whenever I want. That privilege has to be earned. My orgasms belong to him, and whether I’m allowed one—or denied for days on end—is entirely up to him. The longer I go without release, the softer I feel. Needy. Obedient. Aching to prove myself. My need for him becomes sharper than my need to cum. My desire to please overtakes my frustration.

When he finally allows me release, it’s on his terms. After I’ve done what’s required of me—cooked him dinner, been punished for my mistakes, taken whatever pain or pleasure he decides I deserve, pleased him with my body. And in those moments, I know I’ve earned his approval. I’ve served him, suffered for him, and grown under his discipline.

Under his hand, I thrive

I’ve come to crave the way he molds me, even when it’s hard, even when I resist. He doesn’t just want me to grow—he demands it. And when I’m kneeling at his feet, or bent over for his discipline, or aching from the denial he’s imposed, I feel it: I’m becoming more than I ever thought I could be. For him, for myself, for us.