#and i made sure to change my settings so that tumblr would email me

[sysmedsaresexist]

I spoke with Colin Ross again.

The original post, for those who missed it.

This is going to be really disjointed and rough. I've been put in a really weird position and I want to just... talk about it. This is okay to reblog, I'm sure there's pro/endos that have been waiting for this. Unfortunately, it's going to be attached to a vent.

Sadly, talking to him brought up a lot of bad feelings. I'm still so sad to see so many people turn on me. I'm disappointed that there was so much pushback. I'm disgusted by people's hypocrisy.

People wanted to know why I wasn't posting my side of the emails to Colin Ross, they tried to say he didn't believe those things anymore.

So I emailed him again, recapping our previous conversations, and asking him if he still believed in non traumagenic plurality.

And he responded that he does.

I thought I could post it, and that would be the end of it. Proving we had spoken before, confirming the topics discussed. But in my email to him, I shared what I've been doing since I last spoke with him, what prompted me to reach out to him again. The same thing that stopped me from posting my side of the emails originally. I wasn't entirely honest with him, either. I don't think I would have gotten a response if I had talked about tumblr.

And I'm simultaneously so excited and so scared.

This is a man that, in a very vague sense, formed a mentor/professional relationship with me. Our interaction overall was brief, but it was exciting to discuss his work with him, ask him questions that had been bothering me-- I told him about myself, my educational and work background. I used my real email and name. My real school. He's Canadian, we talked about it. I shared real details of my life, and while it wasn't necessarily in confidence, I don't think he would appreciate knowing that I've shared his personal thoughts and emails on tumblr, of all places. I'm not lying or hiding anything in my side of the conversation.

I'm scared.

I'm terrified to post anything that could be linked to me. Even posting this, I'm like, "can people like... reverse edit my picture and get my email?" I genuinely don't know.

I worry about posting the full screenshots with his email, knowing people won't believe me if I don't, but not wanting to have these ridiculously immature people in his inbox. I have encouraged people since day one to find his email themselves and reach out. I figure that the only people who would put in that work are the people who genuinely want to learn.

But then I realized that there are people that could ruin the relationship I made with him.

People that could make it so that I can never contact him in this way again.

People could use this to find me, if they get Colin Ross talking. (The rational part of my brain says he's smart enough not to give someone else my name, but goddamn, some of you people are actually dangerous)

There are people that want to do that to me. People that hate that I even brought a professional into this conversation. And I get it. I sat on the original conversation for almost three years, remember?

It's really scary to admit you're wrong, that you've been close-minded and hardheaded. It's scary to confront your bias and actions.

But having him respond to me... I feel so lucky? Not that Colin Ross is a saint, but how often do you get to meet someone like him? How often do you have a chance to take advantage of a professional contact that seems willing and happy to have these kinds of conversations with you? Three years later and he remembered me. He took the time to answer me, again.

I don't want to fuck that up.

So I thought about reaching out to certain people, showing them the entire set of emails without any blockout and having them vouch for the authenticity.

Then I realized that I wouldn't trust any of you anti endogenic systems with any of my information after how you've all behaved.

And I realized that none of you are going to change your minds, no matter what I show you, and I'd rather to maintain my professional relationships than put any more effort into any of you.

And I know if I wait too long to post this, people will call it fake, so I either need to go ahead and make this post or just kind of let it disappear into obscurity.

It's so important, though.

Isn't it?

I can't tell anymore.

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

@fatisthenewshape is in charge !!

“Omg I can’t believe how boring his life is. I know he told me before that his life was nothing but I didn’t expect it to be this bad.” Finishing up the paper work from the most boring job ever I pushed my chair in. I wonder what he’s doing in Paris right now. Sure therapy wasn’t intentional but it happened somehow and now I knew I was in his American body. Right when I was about to walk out of the office I heard my email go off. I went back to check and it was yet again another down sizing. Me being good at this job of his wasn’t on the list hit it just meant his boring job was about to get more boring !!

I screamed looking at that computer. “I can’t take this shit anymore!” I slammed the door shut to the office and on the way home grabbed some beer. In the apartment that night I just stared at the glow of the tv. I was only on my first beer and I was already feeling sleepy. I didn’t want to be in this body anymore. This life was so boring !! It was so much more fun when we just talked about transfo….. I sat tight yo on the couch. Maybe this was a way to really live a transformation. Maybe this was the chance I had to really make a change. Pulling up his tumblr account i reread everything he posted. I didn’t realize how many different changes he had written about. But needless to say after couple hours I have decided on the changes I would make. Closed my computer I walked back to the living room and opened up another beer.

It was a couple months of my new ambitious beer drinking that I finally had a beer gut. He has written so many stories about having one that it was odd he didn’t actually have one. This was my first change I was going to make to him. And now here I am. Rubbing this big gut while I’m walking out of this office for the last time. It was now time for me to go onto the next phase of my plan. Destroying his education was right up his ally. He always talked about being dumb. And a dog. Well he needed a job that would fit that role.

I managed to get a job at a Construction site. The work was hard and labor intensive. I sweat all day and I smelled like crazy. But I kept drinking my beers and continuing on the path that I had set for him.

Making so much less made my next changes a little hard. One of the things he fantasized about clearly was tattoos and I wanted to make sure he had them. But the massive decrease in pay from the corporate world made it hard. I started asking some of my coworkers about the I tattoos and before I knew Indians out they was an artist and was offering to give me some at a discount

It was long before I was making daily visits to get as much ink as possible on his body. I was loving how fast his body was getting covered in tattoos. And the looks that people were giving. I was soon looking like a walking piece of graffitied skin. I began to do other things. Like adding gauges to hjs ears. One I had them completely obliterated to the point of now return I knew that his physical changes had to come to a close.

For the next part in his journey I decided to delve deeper into one of his stories tropes that he wrote about alot. Problem was that I wasn’t willing to do any of the work. I found myself on the dark web one night and with a couple thousand dollars and his social security number it wasn’t long before the stranger had logged into the federal system and began to add charge after charge to his record. Drugs, possession, firearms. He was making this man a low life thug criminal and now there was nothing he would be able to do about it. He would be able to find the chat rooms or anything to get this resolved. I even perfected his signature and sending a copy to the stranger online he used that to validate the claims of all the charges he was placing on this body. We even managed to invalidate his college degrees and even high school degree. Now he was a high school drop out who went down the path of being a hard criminal. It wasn’t long before his face was being seen all over tv. Armed and dangerous. I was now living the body of a wanted man just like in those stories he wrote. It was t long before the police came and aggressively arrested me. And I just smirked. Bring in prison was going to be the utmost change to his life that would be able to make. And from the sounds of it. With all the charges I had managed to get on his record, he was going to be here for several years. Especially after I admitted to everything for him.

[jothemouse]

COMMISSIONS ARE CLOSED!!

EDIT/UPDATE:

Commissions will be closed until August! Thank you so much to everyone who's commissioned me or shown interest in these! It means the world to me!! And I hope that you'll all stick around to see the results of these commissions!! (Which does include the sticker plan!)

To all current commissioners and waitlisted folks: don't worry, your pieces are still in progress and to those on the waitlist I will be in contact! Thank you all for your patronage and patience! You are all so amazing!!!

If you would like a commission but missed out on these, please be sure to check back in August!

Thank you all again so much!! I hope you have a wonderful week you guys!! <333

SO, as you may know, some of you may know, maybe none of you know, I am trying to start selling stickers!!! On my own. No RedBubble or Society6. Nope. All by my lonesome!

But in order to do that, I need to make the money to purchase the stickers and other necessary shipping supplies in the first place. So, I'm opening commissions!! Specifically,,,,,,

I am doing sketch commissions!

I don't have a set close date OR any slots, so it is completely first come, first serve for as long as I can keep it up!

I'm going to include more information, process, as well as terms and conditions under the cut, but if you have any questions not answered below please don't hesitate to get in touch with me here, on Instagram (@jo.the.mouse) or by email (micecandraw@gmail.com)!

And before I continue on, if you cant commission me but want to support me all I ask is that you please reblog this post!! It does a WORLD of wonders to spread posts around! Thank you!!

What I'm Offering

Commissioned artworks in my “Sketch Style”. The money made from these commissions is going to directly fund the creation and sale of illustrated stickers!

Here is a fun little preview sketch of what will be the Canada sticker that I've been obnoxiously polling people about:

Prices

Uncolored Sketch:

$15 

Includes: one character, no/minimal shading, and simple/abstract background

Flat Color Sketch:

$25

Includes: one character, no/minimal shading, and simple/abstract background

Full Color Sketch:

$35

Includes: one character, basic shading, and simple/abstract background

Add Additional Characters:

+ $5 per added character

What I will draw:

OCs (original characters)

Fanart

Real People

Furries (Anthro and Feral)

Fantasy/DnD 

Suggestive (no real people without written and signed consent)

What I will NOT draw:

Overtly NSFW

Heavy Gore

Process

Contact me either through DMs (Tumblr: jothemouse, Instagram: jo.the.mouse) or through email (micecandraw@gmail.com) 

We'll talk a bit about your commission (like what you're looking for, any references I'll need, how much it'll cost,.ect.) I'll also be asking for your email and preferred payment method at this time. 

Payment for the commission is due upon receiving a confirmation email. This email will include a google form contract (this is mainly for me to make sure I have everything correct), notice that I've sent you a payment request, and a time estimate! 

I will begin the initial sketch once payment is received. 

Refunds are available at any point before you receive the initial sketch. 

Upon receiving the initial sketch you can suggest changes and revisions. This is your only opportunity to do so. 

From there I will finalize your commission to agreed upon level. 

I will let you know when your commission is finished and send you an email containing a PDF and PNG file!

Terms and Conditions

PAYMENT is due upon receiving email with confirmation and a time estimate. Depending on discussed payment method, you will receive either A; a PayPal invoice, or B; a Venmo payment request. Work will begin once payment is received. 

REFUNDS are available at any time BEFORE you receive the “initial sketch” OR if commission cannot be delivered within agreed upon time or at all. 

Time estimate is not a hard deadline and response times may affect how long a commission will take. 

This commission is for PERSONAL USE ONLY. You may not use the commission for any commercial purposes, claim it as your own, or use it in conjunction with any AI methods. 

I reserve the right to refuse any commission that I believe falls outside of my comfort level or skill level.  

Additionally, I will only be drawing in the specific style demonstrated in the example works. 

ALRIGHT! You made it through all that nonsense!

Thank you so much for reading! And if you're able, please consider commissioning me!

I hope to see you in my DMs!! (^-^)

[whereshadowsthrive]

Let me tell you how I just almost lost this account forever-

I went to check tumblr only to notice that it had forced logged me out on desktop. So I enter my email to log in...no dice. Then I think to myself "well it's probably my college email then, surprised I hadn't changed it over." No dice again. I then think to check on the mobile app what the email was. Bingo! It was my long dead middle school/high school era email. I tried that email and my password I had written down for tumblr...no dice Again. Now I start to panic. I start trying other passwords, nothing is working. Then Down From The Heavens Descend Into My Mind: the memory of my old universal password for everything when I was kid. Bingo, I'm back into tumblr. I have no earthly idea why I was using *that* password here or why it doesn't match my notes but whatever. Hacker voice, I'm in...

So I go to update the password to what I had written down so this doesn't happen again. I do this on the mobile app for Some Fucking Idiot Reason...and it doesn't ask me to input it a second time to make sure it's right...and then the app force logs me out.............and I try to log back in....I Fucking Mistyped The Password. I could literally start to feel my heart pumping and my ears get really warm with panic at the realization I might've just lost my decade+ old tumblr account because a basic password reset feature apparently doesn't exist on this site. I went to go report this issue to Tumblr Support and ask them to recover my account. However, I need to provide the email this account is attached to... and I don't have access to that, so support is just a worthless route...and then I realized going to submit a fucking support ticket logs you out. So now I was logged out on both app and desktop. Literally beside myself. Broken ass website, deadass wondering if anyone tests this place. I go to recover the email this account is attached to. Then gmail does me so dirty, it says to me "to recover this email, you need a security code sent to your elementary school era email." At this point, I'm ready to just cry. So I go to crack into that email and BECAUSE I HAD REMEMBERED MY OLD UNIVERSAL PASSWORD AND CUZ SHIT LIKE 2 FACTOR JUST WASN'T A THING WHEN I MADE THAT EMAIL, I GOT IN So then I had to fuckin' recover and reinstate the middle school email from my elementary school, recover my tumblr account and reset the password *again* (this time on desktop and not the fucking app) and make sure this account was set to my up to date email and just.....y'all, if my memory didn't just shit out my childhood universal password at me, I deadass would have lost this account forever. All because desktop just randomly decided to log me out. I hate social media.

[winderlylandchime]

I was watching 1x22 as one does when they want to feel all the feelings and it made me think about some stuff. And now I need second opinions because I am going a bit insane. I had this thought after watching Brian absolutely lose it which is: how would it go if Justin didn’t get bashed? I mean it’s no secret that they shared something beautiful on that dance floor and they both knew that and then in the garage as well. Even Brian knew that no matter how he’d deny it. So I keep thinking what would’ve season 2 looked like if the bashing didn’t happen, how would Britin be and more importantly what would Brian be like? Because obviously the bashing was a big reason why we got the s2 we did and that included Brian finally coming to somewhat terms that he loves Justin. But I can’t stop wondering what would’ve happened otherwise. And this message might’ve been triggered a little bit by the thought that Justin never remembered their dance :(

Hello dear sweet anon!

"watching 1x22 as one does when they want to feel all the feelings" Truthier words have never been typed.

I think this is a fantastic question and I think it truly should be a fic (THAT SOMEONE ELSE WRITES MY LIST OF IDEAS IS TOO LONG) because I cannot do it justice in a response here on tumblr dot com.

I will try, of course.

I think a few things are true:

Brian lost out on his dream to move to NYC and big the next big new thing to someone younger than he is. (Me in my 40s thinking about someone who has just turned 30 losing out on a role that benefits from having experience to someone even younger is rolling my eyes, but sure QAF, we'll believe it.) So he's stuck in Pittsburgh.

Michael, his best friend and doting admirer has gotten his own life and is moving across the country. Yes, his relationship with David was toxic AF but that's neither here nor there. This is also set in 2000 when staying in touch meant email that you checked maybe once a day and phone calls. Michael, for all the fandom feelings about him, sees Brian in one particular way, a way that has not changed since they were 18. Michael is not the only culprit of this (HELLO LINDSAY WHAT'S UP?) but he is the major one, the one that Brian cares about the most.

Justin, this kid who has wormed his way into Brian's life and who sees, really sees, Brian for who he is and challenges him and is his equal in many ways, wants him.

So Brian, probably against his better judgment goes to this kid's prom, dances him around the dance floor and kisses him in front of everyone. Then they have this moment in the garage (that pause and eye contact before they kiss happily lives rent free in my mind). And it means something. Mr. Brian "acts of service and physical touch" Kinney is communicating something very loudly and clearly here. And pre-disabled Justin sees it and understands it. And if we know anything about Justin, he will not let it go. Ever.

I think without the bashing, Justin would have continued to live at Debbie's. I think he would have gone to PIFA and Brian would have paid for his tuition when Craig Craig'd it all up. I think there would have been less push back about accepting Brian's help because that would be the only help Justin would have needed (instead of: overcoming PTSD, living together, giving him the computer, etc.). I think they would have slowly started to date in a more traditional sense. Nothing dramatic but meeting up for lunch if Justin didn't have afternoon classes, getting dinner together before meeting the guys at Woody's. Michael being in Portland AND the bashing not happening would have allowed this to slowly evolve.

Would Justin still need some assurance that he was different than the tricks? Maybe, but I think he would have felt more confident in himself without the bashing and its after effects.

Would they still have had miscommunication and broken up? I do think so. I think from a psychological and also story-telling perspective, you don't want the 17 year old kid to meet the love of his life and never experience anything different. You want some leaving each other and coming back together (am I still soothing my GOS2 broken heart? Yes, yes I am). I think Justin experiencing monogamy and deciding it's not for him (the way S3 SHOULD HAVE GONE) would have been a great storyline. I think even Michael returning (after some relationship between Brian and Justin has been established) and putting some doubt in the form of "but this isn't who you are" into Brian's mind would also be a great storyline. Some Justin pushing back against Michael and telling Brian "he wasn't there, I was, I know who you are and what you did and what it meant." Oh my god I would love to see that.

I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to read this if someone wants to write it. Or many someones. More cake and all that. I don't see myself writing it because I love the bashing arc too much

[weabdl]

Baby Salon Part One [Patreon Commission]

Thank you to @Nope for this story! They are a Diaper God tier and have decided to use their 1500 words a month to have this story written. They told me to post it to whatever tier, and I decided that it would be public, they will always have the right to change this if they want to but until then enjoy part one. Also make sure to thank them in the comments.

My sister has always been such a pain in the neck, ever since we were little, just because we were twins somehow made it my job to be the mature one, or at least that was how it used to be. Somewhere down the line she had turned more mature and dependable, even started her own salon! I can’t describe how happy that made our mother, I mean ya sure I was in between jobs at the moment but that didn’t make my degree in computer science any less impressive.

But sadly, the job market dried up once anyone with a chrome book could do it, once A.I had mastered the art of programing, companies dropped the pay from over 100k a year to a basic minimum wage paying job. That and it wasn’t even programing anymore, it was just looking over the A. I’s code to fulfill certain legal requirements.

“Ring, Ring, Ring,” I woke up on a normal Monday morning to the sound a feeling of my phone going off, I slowly rolled over and pulled it up revealing that my sister was calling, that's when I noticed that the clock read 7:35, with a loud Grone I slid up answering the call. I knew that if I declined it she would be pissed and probably just wake me up in person.

“What do you want sis?” I asked making sure the grogginess was apparent in my voice! I mean most people didn’t wake up till eight anyways, right? So why was she calling this early?!

“Well morning to you too princess, hey I know you need a job and I need a someone who is decent with computers to come and do my internet set up and manage my outreach,” my sister Sophie said, I could feel her clicking her perfect nails together while she said this.

“... Sure,” I said after thinking it over for a few seconds, while I knew I would hate working for my sister I really needed the money, that and I wanted out of my parents' house as quickly as possible. While they didn’t berate me or anything I still found it hard to live there. I had always been a diaper lover, well ever since my late teens, and when I was making good money, I was able to buy diapers whenever I wanted, even had a good stash at one point. But that was starting to get horrifically low, and I needed some way to buy more.

“Now I can’t offer you what you were getting before A.I took over, but I can at least offer you a livable wage you pampered princess,” I heard her laugh as she said this. I could feel the hairs on my neck stand up at this comment, while this would just be normal banter for anyone else, my Tumblr and other secret social media’s handle name was in fact Pampered Princess, and while I had never shown my face on these platforms or connected them to any of my personal emails this comment seemed very out of place.

"Oh, and my friend Abby is now working for me, you know the one you had a massive crush on!” She said, I could feel my face grow red at this comment.

“Ya, ya whatever, anyways I will be over in like thirty minutes then,” I said getting up finally.

"Ok, see you then princess” Sophie said before hanging up, leaving me with way too many questions and not enough answers!

[xbittersweetnightshadex]

Hello again, Tumblr! 🖤 c: After thinking on it for some time, I made the decision this year to sort of step out into the world again. Between some very heavy back-to-back personal stuff, a serious hit to my career goals courtesy of the many post-pandemic changes that negatively impacted freelancers and small business owners, and the increasing hostility and lifelessness of the current digital landscape, I had stepped away for quite a while. This year, I'm ready to try again, despite where we're at as a society currently.

For the moment, Tumblr feels like this sort of last bastion of authenticity in a sea of filters, manufactured personalities, and algorithms that seem to favor and encourage our demise. Not that Tumblr doesn't have its own set of problems. Nothing is quite like it used to be, that's for sure. Times are strange, to say the least.

Anyway, I'll be on other platforms, too, sharing thoughts and projects and such, but I'll probably be the most active here for the time being - at least until something gives and a better platform comes along or I build my own (which is not a joke, actually; I'm doing this). But in the meantime! If any friends are still active here and would like to send me fun posts from time to time or just chitchat and catch up on here, please do so. I'll be around pretty regularly from here on out. c:

I think I'm also going to pin this post for a while, so I guess I should put some links here, too. :x If anyone is interested in keeping up with my projects - my artwork, my writing, my spiritual work, my boutique, or any other things I may take on in this lifetime - you can click here to visit my personal website. You can also subscribe there to receive email notifications whenever I post a new article, which is usually updates, but also ramblings and poetic prose from time-to-time. I also have websites dedicated solely to my creative projects (Dezydration) and solely to my spiritual work (The Witchy Housewife) at this time, if you're more interested in one or the other. Alternatively, you can check out this page for links to literally everywhere I am online right now, which will remain regularly updated as that presence shifts.

I look forward to coming out of my lil turtle shell. 🐢 I hope this year is better for all of us, 'cause it's been rough. Love you guys! 🖤

[inkwellfire]

Inkwell’s Commission Information

An updated commission page now that I’ve gotten my art degree!!

All Prices are in USD. Payments can be made through Pay Pal (my paypal.me link), or Square through my Website InkwellArtist.com and in the Commission Me! tab! Make sure to check with me before paying.

I ask that payments be made before Lineart is drawn, or if you’ve chosen a sketch work, before the art is started. Price ranges subject to complexity of expressions/pose.

If you’re interested in commissioning me, please email me at juneinkwell@gmail.com, or send me a direct message through Tumblr!

Basic Digital Drawing Commission Details:

Sketch (cleaned): 10-20, Lineart- Bust: 30-35, Half Body: 40-50, Full Body: 60-70, Full Color +30 added to Lineart price

Other Coloring Methods (added on lineart price): Base Flats +20, Cel Shade Flats +25, Dynamic Lighting +40

Full Background: 60-100, Lined (automatic), Lineless +5 to “Lineart” base price

Other Background Styles: Lineart: 20-30, Gradient/Simple: 10-15, Flats: 40-50, Pattern: 10-40

More examples, art styles, comic pricing, animation pricing, and further explanations of the process under the cut

Realism: +50 to base price, Chibi & Toon styles: +10, Detailed Linework: +5, Other artstyles can be developed with discussion

Pixel Art: 20+ (increases with number of pixels) Pixel Animation: Base Pixel Art price + 10 per frame (ie: a small, 12 frame animation would cost $140)

Hand-drawn key frame Animations: Base Art Pricing per keyframe + 20 per frame (ie: a 12 frame animation with 3 keyframes (each $40 as individual works) would cost $300)

Comics: Use Base Pricing per panel, + 5-10 (for paneling and dialogue organization) Background Pricing per Setting, not panel

Edits after the relevant stage (ie: if a pose is being changed after drawing lineart, or a color is changed after shading) are an additional 5 to 10 per edit.

Feel free to ask about things such as physical/traditional media, prints, sculpture, maps, logo designs, prop design, photo manipulation and more!

-

How it Works:

After I get your message I’ll respond as soon as possible asking you to describe your commission to the best of your ability- make sure you note if you’d like bust/half/full body lineart, your color preference, and the other important details about what you’d like.

After that I’ll be able to lead you through any additional questions I need in order to get an idea of how complex it is and I’ll be able to do the math to get a preliminary price out there!

After that’s discussed, I’ll be able to provide you with a series of sketches to choose from and work out adjustments if needed! After a sketch is selected and worked with to get a better concept of what you need, I’ll get started on line art! This usually takes me about a day or two for most pieces. Please note you will need to pay for the commission before I get started on the first stage! I will not begin drawing line art until I have received the payment for the artwork.

After that, it’s mostly a matter of sending you my progress and asking if anything needs adjustment. Feel free to add anything you want! If you find this would change the price of the artwork, I will be very open to discuss it further with you. I’m always hoping to make something *you* want, so never feel bad for asking me to change something.

Everything’s first come- first serve. I’ll try to inform you of how many  people are ahead of you and an estimated time-frame of how long it may  take me to get to you and/or complete your project.

Thank you!  Feel free to ask any and all questions that come to mind, and I’ll do my best to answer them! There  are no bad questions!

- Further Notes/Disclaimers

I may raise the prices upon further discussion should the piece be particularly complex or challenging enough to increase estimated time spent on the project. It is very unlikely I will increase prices above the high-end bracket stated here for any particular project. It’s why I included the ranges in the first place. I want to make this  something that is fair to both your budget and my time, energy, and  supplies, I’m very willing to help you figure out how I can make  something you want within your budget! Low-end bracket non-negotiable. Any price increase above the high-end bracket would be due to a general pricing increase overall.

If you would like to pull out of any projects you must do so before completion.  I will provide you with the initial sketch(es) as soon as I complete it. Please inform me then or beforehand if you no longer wish to commission me! For both your own and my sake!

If you wish to pull out of a colored project, and I’ve already completed line art, I ask that you pay for the line art (same with a project with backgrounds or additional characters)

I ask that you only use these commissions for Personal Use unless you talk to me first! If you would like to use my art/designs for Commercial Purposes, you must get my explicit permission. I sign all artwork! If you don’t wish for it to be signed, or would like it to be signed in a particular place/way, please discuss that with me. It is very likely I will post the complete commission to one of tumblr blogs (and/or possibly other social media accounts/website/portfolio). If you would prefer I didn’t, or did so in a particular way, please discuss that with me!

That’s it! If you got though this all, I applaud your determination and appreciate your interest! If you still have questions, again, please ask!

[sodobabe]

Never Fall for the Guitarist pt. 1

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm not new to Tumblr but I am new to the Ghost fandom and am an avid writer. I thought I would share some of my works with you all. Once I get the hang of this, I will take requests. For now, enjoy!

Summary: (Y/N) has been chosen for their dream job. Will they put their job on the line for the love of their life?

Warnings: Sexual language. Minors DNI!! Angsty Swiss. Fluffy Dewdrop.

I had always longed to be a photographer for Ghost. I lived just outside of the Abbey and had been to so many concerts I lost count but each time, all I wanted to do was snap breathtaking photos of them. What I didn’t realize is that my dream would soon come true. I was fresh out of college. I had a degree in digital media with a minor in photography. It was my hobby. I took photos of everything and anything. I started applying to jobs and was feeling giddy enough to apply to be a photographer for Ghost. I cautiously filled out the application, being sure to be as detailed in my skills as possible. Submit. It was done. I submitted the application and sat back with my hot cup of tea to take in the possible life changing step I just took.

Three days passed. I had started to think that I would never hear back from any of the places I applied. That isn’t unusual in this day and age as employers are lackadaisical when it comes to reviewing applications. Ping. I grabbed my phone and saw an email notification. Before I could even read it, I threw my phone back on the couch. I was nervous. What if they don’t want me. What if they don’t think my photography is good enough. The thoughts were racing through my mind until I finally picked up my phone again and opened the email. 

“Dear (Y/N), we were thoroughly impressed by your exquisite photography portfolio and previous work experience that you have shown. We would like to extend an invitation to you for an interview on Wednesday, June 25. Please let us know if this time does not work for you and we can reschedule.  

Best regards, Ghost Management”

Holy shit! They want to meet with me. They want to interview me. What the hell am I doing on June 25 because those plans are canceled. I quickly hit the reply button and told their management that June 25 was a perfect date for an interview. Now I have to find the perfect professional outfit, so they don’t think I’m a slob before I even get the job. 

The week passed painfully slowly. I set my alarm for 7 a.m. to ensure I had time to get a shower, and make sure I was as presentable as I could be. After all, this is a dream opportunity, and I would hate to jeopardize it. After all was said and done, I picked up my phone and checked the time. 9 a.m. Perfect timing. I calmly walked out of my house and got into my car. Typically, I blast music even if I am just driving two minutes up the road to the gas station for a late night slushie run. Not today. Today I drove in complete silence as thoughts raced through my brain.

I pulled into the parking lot of the grey stone building and checked in the mirrors to make sure I still looked good, which I did, then I ever so calmly exited my car. I made my way into the building and asked the very kind sister where I needed to go for my interview. She so graciously led me down a hallway and into a room at the end. I was greeted by a tall, slim woman who was the epitome of beauty standards.

“Hi there! You must be (Y/N). My name is Sister Imperator, and I am the head of Ghost’s management,” she said enthusiastically.

“Hi! It is so nice to meet you,” I replied, trying to hide my nervousness. 

She motioned for me to take a seat and asked me all of the questions that one would expect in an interview. Why do you think you're right for this position? Do you have experience photographing moving objects? Etc. I gave her my best answers to those questions, and she abruptly stood up.

“Welcome to the team, (Y/N),” she said with a large smile plastered across her face. “Before we see what kind of talent you have, let’s introduce you to the band,” she continued. 

Holy shit. It’s happening. I am meeting my favorite band of all time and cannot fangirl because I have to appear professional. My thoughts were quickly interrupted when in walked 8 figures who towered over me. I knew who all of them were, but they were going to introduce themselves anyway because they didn't know that. 

They stood in a line and from left to right introduced themselves. Copia was first, followed by Dewdrop, Swiss, Mountain, Rain, Aether, Cirrus, and Cumulus. Seven of the members left the room to get back to practice but Dewdrop stuck around. He was the shortest and, in my opinion, the most handsome of the four. There he was standing at his height of 5'8" with his mask only showing his gorgeous blue eyes. He was slender with a little muscle tone to his arms and thighs from performing so much. Oh, how I could’ve melted into a puddle at that very given moment. 

He stepped closer to me and gently placed his hand on my waist to guide me out of the room and show me to the practice room. His hand was warm. I could feel his body heat radiating into my skin. I had a fuzzy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Little did he know that I dream about him from time to time. The only problem was that now I could never be with him so long as I held my job title. Rule number four in the contract was that employees were to have no relations with band members, or they would be immediately terminated. Was I willing to break that rule and pray I don’t get caught? Hell yes, I was but I seriously doubt Dew would go for it. 

I snapped out of my sexual thoughts as Dewdrop welcomed me into the practice room. It was larger and darker than what I had expected but if I’m being honest, I wasn’t even sure what I was expecting. Their instruments were all in their designated spaces. Everything was neat and tidy. The only light that was provided was the sun that shined in through the cracks in the blinds. 

As I stood there in awe, once again my thoughts were interrupted by a deep voice. It was Dew again. He seemed to be the most sociable.

 “Well are you going to just stand there or are you going to show us what you got?” he said with a smug look on his face, followed by a wink. 

If I hadn’t eaten that morning, I may have passed out from the lack of oxygen from holding my breath after the wink. 

I simply nodded toward him and picked up my camera. They got busy right away playing a few songs that I already knew. I snapped so many photos I thought I was going to break the camera. That’s how I capture the best photos. Take hundreds and choose ten. As I was so entranced by doing my job, I almost missed the fact that they were playing a new song. I continued capturing digital moments when a fight broke out between Dew and Swiss. 

“I don’t fucking understand why you can’t keep up with your stupid guitar,” Swiss spat at Dew. He was significantly taller than Dew, standing at 6'2" and he must have kept all his temper in his frame. 

“Well maybe if you and Papa weren't singing ahead of the instruments, you would realize how it’s supposed to sound but no, we have to do everything on your time." Dew snapped back.

I couldn’t help but interrupt and set my camera down. 

“Ghouls, I don’t mean to step out of line, but I cannot do my job if you all are fighting because I don’t think fans want to see you all spitting comebacks at each other,” I calmly said. 

“Mind your own business, new meat,” Swiss practically growled at me. 

Dew obviously did not like this as he lunged at him. 

“Don’t you dare talk to them like that. They are doing us a service and we should treat them with the utmost respect.” Dew sternly told Swiss.

“Oh, give me a break Dew. You’re just thinking with your dick once again because that’s all you ever do. That’s why we can’t keep any employees because you can’t help but stick your stupid penis in them and they aren’t smart enough to keep it a secret. I’m sure this one will be just as dumb as the rest of them,” Swiss spouted off as he raised his arm in my general direction, ending the argument but Dew was more concerned about the fact that I swiftly left the room. 

I didn’t want to run as I didn’t want to draw more attention to myself than I already had. I found my way into the restroom and locked myself in. I backed up against the wall and slid down with my hand on my chest trying to catch my breath. What they never tell you is how different your favorite band is to what you actually imagine. A minute or two passed when there was a gentle knock on the door. I thought I was hearing things, so I ignored it and continued to even my breathing. Knock knock. There it was again. 

“(Y/N)? It’s Dew. Are you okay?” he asked in a gentle, worried tone. 

I let out a sniff and replied with a quiet “no.” 

“Well, can you let me in so we can talk it out?” he asked politely.

I pulled myself up off the comforting cold ground and unlocked the door. Dew gently opened it, making sure not to be too harsh with his movements. I threw on a fake smile to try and mask my true emotions.

“You can pretend to smile all you want but I can tell how Swiss’ words impacted you,” Dew said as he took a small step toward me. 

“Can I be honest with you, Dew?” I said after a deep breath. 

He nodded.

“I love you all as a band. I am a big fan and have been to so many of your shows that I have lost count at this point. I thought it would be a dream come true to work for you but after that little episode, other than you, the band members were nothing that I had thought,” I said shakily while meeting Dew’s eyes. 

He gave me a warm smile and said, “That’s because our photographers do their job well. We fight everyday but our photographers know to keep the ugly stuff out of the media. Just like you said, our fans don’t want to see us fighting. As far as what Swiss said about us, I don’t plan on using you like that. You’re different, (Y/N). You have a deeper intelligent personality than most of the ditsy people that come in here and work for us. I have personally seen your work and I am in awe of your talents. I want to know you for who you are, and I know we aren’t allowed to have relationships with our employees, but I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

How the hell do I say no to that? All I did was smile, nod my head, and say, “I have secrets nobody knows about, I’m sure I could keep this under the table.” 

Dew nodded and pulled me into a tight hug, my face squishing against his chest. I couldn’t help but notice his smell. Slightly sweaty with a more noticeable sandalwood scent. 

“Here’s my phone number,” he said as he handed me a card. “Text me when you get home, and I will come over. We can discuss how we will go about this relationship.” he continued. 

I nodded and put the card into my pocket before going back to the practice room, waving goodbye to the other members, grabbing my bag, and starting my venture home. 

[killemwithkawaii]

Mitch, do you have any advice for anyone thinking of setting up a Ko-Fi? I'm kinda torn about whether to use Stripe or PayPal as the holder for Ko-Fi donation funds.

On one hand, I've heard PayPal had screwed digital artists over and apparently withholds money that stays in the PayPal account for too long or something like that.

On the other hand, I'm not sure I can trust Stripe as I've heard that one is not supposed to give out a certain bit of personal info as doing so would lead to identity theft (at least, that's what I heard when I was looking into enabling tips on tumblr). Also, according to another artist I follow, their tumblr tips just wouldn't make it to their bank account for some reason.

Short answer: I have used both services and would recommend Stripe 100%

Long answer: I got screwed over by paypal, not as badly as other people, but goddamn lol

I made my paypal account like a decade ago and started using it to accept payments for commissions without any problem for about a year (?) in 2020, then out of nowhere, my account was completely shut down. Apparently, the problem was that my account was a personal account and not a business account, which I didn't know- there was no indication of what kind of account I had in the app (which they constantly pushed you to use because its ~sOoOoO gOoOoOd~) and no option to change it that I could find, so I ignorantly assumed it was okay to be using my account for business and personal transactions. It was an honest mistake on my part, and would have been happy to make the change if I would have been told I needed to. I tried to sort things out as soon as I got the email informing me I could no longer use paypal, but couldn't talk to a real person (because they did this the night before a holiday weekend), so I sent an email with an appeal explaining the situation, and was rejected multiple times over the next week with automated messages. In the end, my personal account was permanently shut down (which caused some major hiccups with my bills that month), and all the money I'd made during my latest commission round (about $500) was withheld for 6 months (I still completed the commissions in the timeframe I promised, but it really sucked doing all that work and not getting compensated for it for so long qwq)

I made the switch to Stripe after all that bullshit and have had no issues in the two years I've been using it to take commission payments. It looks WAAAAAY more complicated than Paypal at first glance, but don't be intimidated! If you're running a very small business, you don't really need to mess with too much of the complicated stuff. (If I can figure it out, you can figure it out lol) One drawback is that Stripe does take a very small percentage of each transaction, but I would say it's worth it. (No idea what was going on with the tumblr tip problem that person was having, since I haven't messed with that feature 🤷‍♂️)

TL;DR:

Paypal: Pros- very common, simple to use, no fee Cons- Fucks you crosseyed and takes your money (which you may get back... maybe)

Stripe: Pros- super organized, all kinds of analytics, business oriented Cons- less common, small transaction fee, kind of intimidating to start using (but you get the hang of it pretty quick)

[casfree]

i never posted about this but in march my blog turned six which means i’ve been on this hellsite for a third of my life what the fuck guys how in the shit did this happen and how do i erase the last six years of my life from my memory

[facedock]

Calling All A-Team Fans – Help Preserve Fic from Fanfiction.net

I recently reblogged a post warning that Fanfiction.net could soon be lost to us forever. In the interest of preserving fandom history, many people are taking action to save fics before the site goes down (which, as far as I can tell, could happen at any moment – could be days, could be months, could be years... could end up being totally fine, I have no idea, but I’d rather not risk it).

There are 64 pages of A-Team (TV) fanfic on Fanfiction.net.

That’s about 1,600 individual stories.

They could all be lost to us at any moment (if the author hasn’t uploaded them elsewhere, like to AO3).

In the interest of preserving our fandom’s history, I’m rallying y’all to help save these fics.

To quote from someone on that other post:

“Do it comprehensively—start on the last page and save every. Single. One. Make sure you include the header and any author’s notes. EDIT NOTHING, ONLY DOCUMENT. Yes, if that means someone misspelled something or you spot a misnamed character, you need to keep that error. If you can form a “network” with friends to save all of a fandom’s works, DO IT.”

I’m taking care of the first (er, last) page right now. I’m not sure if I’ll have the energy to do more tonight. But I’m getting started archiving just in case we lose the fics.

I’ve been copy/pasting the fics into individual Google Docs, storing them in a folder I’ve titled “Fanfiction.net A-Team Archive”, and titling them as suggested below:

“I strongly recommend using the following format for whatever you save, so it can be indexed later: fandom_fictitle_author_datefirstposted.fileextension. So for example (I’m making this fic up for demonstration purposes, don’t bother looking for it), naruto_blessing_ichigo98_07192009 would be Blessing, by ichigo98, posted in the Naruto fandom on 19 July 2009. This provides all the information needed to see if a fic has been cross posted to the AO3, and to run a search engine to see if it’s archived elsewhere.”

I’ve also been copy/pasting the fic stats from the top of the fic, and putting them in the “summary” section of the Google Doc:

I’m not saying it needs to be done this way specifically, just as long as fics are getting saved.

If you wanna join me, I’ve set up a Google spreadsheet to mark which pages have been covered.

Feel free to tackle a page and put your tumblr @ or nickname or initial it or whatever you’re comfortable with.

If you’re going to use Google Drive/Docs to save the fics, I would recommend using a spare Google account if you have one (I’m using an account I have for getting spam emails lol), so you have plenty of room in the Drive.

Note on copy/pasting: Fanfiction.net’s interface doesn’t let you copy/paste on the desktop version. So, when you open a fic, change the “www” part of the URL to “m” to bring up the mobile version. This should let you highlight and copy the text without issues. I’ve also found that, on my computer at least, scrolling to the bottom and highlighting and then dragging the mouse back up to the top of the page highlights the text a lot quicker than starting at the top and scrolling down.

And, remember, this isn’t about saving only the fics you like. It’s about preserving the creations of our fellow fans and creating an archive. So.

I don’t know what we’ll actually do with these fics later... upload them to Ao3?? That seems like something we shouldn’t do without permission from the authors, right?? But many of them may be unreachable, given that some of these fics were posted all the way back in 2000. So. Idk.

But for now, the important thing is just to make sure we have them saved.

If you have some time to spare, tackling a page or two would be cool.

Just remember to check the spreadsheet so you don’t waste time saving fics that have already been saved.

If you want to add your saved fic Docs to the same Google Drive folder, I’ve made it public and editable, so you should be able to put your Docs in there. Please don’t abuse this power lol this is about preserving fandom history, and I happen to think that matters.

EDITING TO ADD: Someone pointed out that Fanfiction.net automatically filters out “M” rated fics when you first go to a search page, so if you’re helping archive the fics, remember to go to “Filters” and change the “Rated” filter to “Rating: All”, so we’re not missing anything.

[taylorannnx]

Releasing this on Tumblr before any other social media promo but Constellation Crafting: Chaos Mode is live on itch! Now I can Word Vomit 😎

Highlights

Originally characters were supposed to be angels instead of zodiac (Chinese or Western) signs.

The timer mechanic was thought up on the fly by my friend Ethan Yen.

A draft version of this game required players to dump all their dice into a bowl, mix it, and grab a fistful to determine how many stars their constellation had.

Playtest constellations looked like: my dog, a unicorn, a unicorn with wings, a turtle, and a hammerhead shark with boar tusks.

": Chaos Mode" was added because the game is very quick (10 minutes to play!) but I want to make a longer version of the game with sabotage mechanics.

Gushing™️

So I made this game as part of the Weave Games Super Chill Game Jam that my friends Poorna and @armaanretreatshere which started back near the end of December. When I say I was inspired just by reading the prompt email! We had to roll for the year and version of reality our games were set in and before I rolled I knew I wanted to make a game where time passed quickly, speeding into the future.

Why creating constellations? I don't entirely know. Maybe because I had recently watched Good Omens s2? But the premise of the game quickly morphed as I wanted to remove the associations of religion and celestials to be something different.

The first line of the game was the first thing I knew for sure. "You are an astral creature." To give more of a prompt and lean into the theme of creating a new constellation, I included that you could be your zodiac (Chinese or Western) or another mythological creature made of stars, because that's cool to me.

When I rolled, my game was set in 2324. I liked the idea of having a time limit to create a new zodiac. Initially the characters were supposed to "drag" the existing stars across the sky to form something new, but that left the question of "how does this impact existing constellations" and with the restriction of a one page game I didn't want to deal with that so instead I changed it to forging new stars.

Originally every roll was going to count as a year, kept track of either by tick boxes around the border (176!!!) or by using 3d10s. I playtested the 3d10 method with my friend Ethan Yen and we found it significantly slowed down what was otherwise a very short game. So we switched, converting rolls into seconds on a timer and oh gosh did the pressure mount but so did the fun! Communication is essential in this chaotic method of timekeeping but out of the five playtests, only 1 game didn't create all the stars in time (we rolled SO BAD).

Figuring out how to phrase the way I wanted turns to be taken was perhaps the hardest thing about this game. Currently it reads "The person whose birthday falls earliest in the calendar year begins the game." So if you're born on January 1st you start and so on. I was thinking about doing it in Western zodiac order but that felt exclusionary or would make people unfamiliar with the dates have to look it up. That sentence feels clunky but I couldn't express the intention any other way. I hate "youngest goes first" rules because lots of games do that and this method of turn taking fit the game theme better imo.

Figuring out the dice pool was actually very easy. I started with two extremes ("divine order" = one of each dice type included; "cosmic chaos" = a fist full of random dice) and then made a compromise and started with playtesting that. It ended up being nearly the perfect amount. Do I wish I had kept the fistful of dice? Kinda, but not everyone owns physical dice. (We tested this on VTT and rolling physical dice in a video call. Both methods succeeded and was so intense because only one player could see the timer!)

As I was creating the game, I knew I wanted to have "convergence events" to inject roleplaying into what was otherwise a party game. I love the idea of a celestial council bickering amongst the stars and with RP confident groups they definitely delivered but those scenes were never long enough for my liking. I have plans to make an extended version of the game (maybe 6-8 pages?) called Constellation Crafting: Council of the Stars with more roleplaying built in, a communal crafting of stars (I ended up cutting a co-op mechanic when the game switched to a timer because it didn't make sense and wasted time rather than saved it), and sabotage mechanics because that's always fun (with consent of course).

Because this is a game jam for itch, I knew I couldn't royalty split and bring on an artist so I did the art myself by tracing pictures. My initial notes say SPACE SQUID ART but I chose a lion ultimately because I'm a leo and a silly game deserves a silly lion outline in stars.

I am probably only 2/3rds done with the all the things I could say about this game but this post is already so long! If you made it this far, thank you! My game is available for $2 and I will have a bunch of community copies available (12 to start with and 9 more each time the game is bought). It'll be in an itch bundle for $10 with other games from the jam soon (TBD).

Finally: bonus picture of the cover I made myself

I'm so excited about this silly little one page game I made for a game jam. It releases tomorrow on itch and I am just going to Word Vomit here about the design and the playtesting and oh my gosh I'm so EXCITED to talk about this thing I've made over the past month!!!!

[ex]

Thanks for answering! :) So, basically, I'm not a big fan of actually creating an account on social media, instead more of a lurker I guess? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I blame paranoia and anxiety. If anyone were to ask me if I had an insta/twitter/snapchat/etc, I honestly tell them I don't have any. However, I have considered Tumblr, I'm just not confident enough. I do have blogs I follow/bookmark, but sometimes I use the search bar to look for content of my fav fandoms/characters. 1/

(continued from first ask) Tumblr's really accessible for me to browse compared to other social media. There's even no interruption (login wall) for looking through the content (ex., archive, notes) of a blog. Back then, I was too scared to send asks, but the community's just so welcoming I became more sure of myself to send a message. Overall, I enjoy my experience in Tumblr, which is why I was upset at the login wall while scrolling through a tag. It may be hellsite, but it's a hellsite I'm loyal to, in a way. 2/2

Thank you for sharing this, it's really helpful to see where you're coming from. I understand (and also have) anxiety around data-gathering in Big Tech. My hope is that Tumblr continues to work toward similar goals as organizations like DuckDuckGo, Brave, and Firefox (has made big improvements in recent years to contain trackers and communicate about what's tracking you).

Tumblr does have to turn a profit, however. And for now, as we work toward make Tumblr sustainable, that does mean ads. This is also why you're seeing more login areas. We collect much less on you than other social media, as evidenced by some of our historically wacky ads. We do also offer the option to go ad-free, which directly supports the site (and...removes the ads).

Obviously, you are free to use Tumblr as you are comfortable, with or without an account. However, I am going to take this opportunity to list out some of Tumblr's privacy-focused features (with some links to help articles for more deets!).

If you sign up using your Apple ID, you can hide your email address from us, for further privacy.

There are a number of blog privacy/visibility settings, letting you control when, where, and if you want to be visible to others, both on Tumblr and outside of it (like in search engines).

You can create multiple blogs within one account, each of which can be private and password protected.

You can create private posts, visible only to you.

You can keep your Likes and Followed list private, visible only to you.

You can turn off replies to your posts, and restrict who can message you to only those blogs you follow.

I'm sure I'm missing some, and more are being built. One more thing Tumblr has going for it is that most users have pseudonymous accounts, meaning their Tumblr is not connected to their real identity and prefer it that way. Which, according to science, creates a more stable community! I myself have other accounts & sideblogs for my obsessions and for lurking, not connected to this one (nor would I want them to be 😅).

Your privacy concerns are real and apply across tech. I can't promise that our current or future privacy features will alleviate all your concerns, but know that we take this seriously, and messages like yours help paint a more complete picture of what people want from Tumblr. It's immensely helpful, so thank you. My ask box is open if you have more to say.

I share your sentiment of being loyal to this hellsite, which is why I wrote so much to answer your message. I hope this sheds some light on recent changes. In any case, glad you're here, in whatever way you're comfortable.

[the-lonelybarricade]

Can't Keep My Hands to Myself

My @acotarsecretsanta fic <3

My SS requested a NSFW Feysand sugar daddy/modern AU set on solstice. This is what I've created, it's the most explicit thing I've put on AO3 and tumblr to date, and I hope you all enjoy it!

Words: 6,941

Read on AO3

Some days Feyre felt like she was in a Groundhog Day loop and had just never paid close enough attention to notice. The days came out and in, an ever marching grind of school work and double shifts that were so monotonous she would have believed someone had just hit copy and paste on her life. Surely there was variation in the faces that came through the cafe, but for each unmemorable customer there was at least one regular to remind Feyre that her life was subject to unending routine.

There was only one face that broke this cycle—a customer with a pair of eyes so vividly blue they almost looked purple under the cafe’s fluorescent lights. Unlike most regulars, who stopped by on their trips to and from work, his appearance didn’t seem scheduled. Sometimes Feyre held her breath wondering when he would come in each day—for he always showed up at some point. Every day, without fail.

That her break from monotony hinged on the arrival of an unpredictable customer wasn’t lost on her, but there was something about him that always made her heart stop. He was unfairly handsome, so much so that Feyre had nearly forgotten how speech worked the first time he’d visited. They’d never exchanged words beyond coffee orders, and that was fine. Judging from the suits he always came in wearing, it was obvious he was wealthy and far outside of her league.

But that didn’t stop her heart from stuttering each time he walked through the door, practically exuding fortune and power from his walk alone, someone clearly used to commanding a room. He only ever ordered the same thing, so by the time he reached the counter, Feyre usually had his large black coffee already in hand.

“Good morning, sir,” she usually greeted him, sliding the coffee across the counter.

To which he usually quirked his lips into something that looked more like a smirk than a smile, but was dazzling all the same. He’d press a crisp ten dollar bill onto the counter, raise his coffee gratefully, and say, “keep the change, darling.”

That was always the extent of their conversation, and perhaps she was imagining things, but with every passing day it seemed the warmth in his eyes seemed to grow, the quirk of his lips approaching something more genuine.

Just when Feyre thought she was truly going to succumb to the exhausting drudgery her life had become, something came along to finally break her routine. A phone call, coming just after the morning rush where the crowd flow was manageable enough to leave to her manager, who smiled permissibly.

Feyre ducked into the back room, frowning when she saw the call was from her landlord.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Feyre. This phone call will be accompanied by an email and written letter so you have everything in writing, but I’m calling to let you know in advance that we’ll be increasing rent on all tenancies in the next calendar month.”

Feyre squeezed her eyes shut, taking a heavy breath. “By how much?”

“For your tenancy, it will be an additional $650 per month.”

650. Feyre was barely making ends meet as it was, and that was almost an entire extra week of work.

“I know times are hard right now, Feyre, that’s why I wanted to give you as much of a heads up as possible.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” she croaked, not feeling the least bit grateful at all. She hung up the phone, trying to take a steady breath to regain her composure before she went back on the floor.

She was trying her best not to descend into a spiral of panic, wondering how she could possibly afford to pay the rent increase. Feyre was living paycheck to paycheck, she didn’t have enough saved up for a deposit to move somewhere more affordable.

Though she tried to switch back to her customer service face, her manager, Alis, seemed to read right through it.

“Received some bad news, I take it?”

Feyre bit her lip. “Would it be possible to increase my hours?”

“Increase your hours?” Alis repeated incredulously. “Honey, you already work a double nearly every day. You’re working yourself to the bone as it is.”

“Can I take Sundays?”

Alis narrowed her eyes. “That’s your one day off a week, Feyre. When are you going to have time for school?”

“They just increased my rent, Alis,” Feyre said quietly, wishing her voice didn’t crack. “I won’t be able to afford it otherwise.”

Alis pursed her lips. “Let me go check the books, maybe we’ll be able to afford giving you a pay rise.”

Feyre nearly sagged in relief. “Thank you, Alis.”

The older woman clucked her tongue, offering her an affectionate pinch on the cheek before she snuck into the back, leaving the floor to Feyre.

Feyre looked towards the counter, cheeks burning when she realized that he was standing at the counter, purple eyes boring into her. She flushed, plastering an apologetic smile on her face.

“My apologies for the wait sir, I’ll get started on that black coffee for you.”

She took to the task, grateful for both the distraction and the excuse to duck her head out of his sight, praying he hadn’t overheard very much of her conversation with Alis. How utterly embarrassing.

When she slid the coffee over to him on the counter, his usual ten dollar bill was replaced by a crisp benjamin franklin. At first, Feyre thought nothing of it, scooping the bill up as she asked, “how would you like your change back?”

“Keep it,” he said.

Feyre paused. Astonished. “You don’t have to do that, sir.”

He only smiled, this one much more genuine than the rest, showing off his perfectly white teeth. “I want to. See you tomorrow, darling.”

Completely stunned, Feyre broke the $100 into the correct change, adding it to the tip jar. “Only 550 left, then,” she mumbled, struck sentimental by the generosity of a stranger.

That was until he tried to do it again the next day.

“Sir, I really can’t accept this,” she said. “It’s far too generous.”

He raised a perfectly groomed brow. “From what I overheard yesterday, it sounds as though you need the extra help.”

“I’m not looking for a benefactor,” she said tightly. “I don’t feel comfortable accepting this kind of money from a stranger.”

He only smiled, extended his hand. “Rhysand.”

“Sorry?”

“Rhysand—that’s my name. So now we aren’t strangers.”

She couldn’t help her small laugh of disbelief. “I’m afraid knowing your name does little to change the fact that you’re a stranger.”

Shaking her head, she handed him back his change, but could do little against the fact that he immediately popped it into the tip jar and went on his way without another word.

The next time he came in, Feyre pointed her finger at him menacingly, which he seemed to find very amusing. “I’m not serving you until you promise me that you won’t leave a tip.”

He only grinned. “That’s a bit unconventional.”

Feyre fixed him with a heavy stare, and with a sigh he relented, holding up his arms amicably. “I promise I won’t tip you.”

She handed him his coffee, and to her relief, he didn’t tip her. He just winked and said, “see you tomorrow, darling.”

Sure enough, the next day Rhysand had gone back to his regular ten dollar bill, to Feyre’s relief and his seemingly unending amusement. And though she gotten a handle on the too generous customer—who at least now had a name—there was still the dilemma of being able to pay rent.

Which was how Feyre ended up moving in with Mor, her closest friend who was more than excited to let Feyre live on her sofa. It was only temporary, until she’d saved up enough money for a deposit. And with Feyre’s schedule, it’s not as though she spent very much time in the house at all—it was mostly just a place to sleep between shifts and classes.

“I’m worried about you,” Mor told her one morning around a mouthful of cereal, watching Feyre dash around to get ready. “This isn’t sustainable, babe. You’re going to burn yourself out if you keep it up.”

“I know,” Feyre sighed. “I just have to get through this last semester.”

She threw open the door, in a hurry to get to her shift, and ran smack into the broad chest of a man standing on the other side. Strong arms reached out to catch her, and the apologies spilling from her lips dried up the second her eyes met a pair of burning violets.

“Oh, Feyre, this is my cousin Rhys,” Mor said from behind her. “He usually gives me a lift to work. Rhys, this is the friend I was telling you about, Feyre.”

“Hi,” Feyre squeaked, mind swirling in disbelief that the customer she’d been hardcore crushing on just happened to be her best friend’s cousin. Rhys looked to be just as shocked, but as he opened his mouth, Feyre scrambled out of his grip and apologetically explained that she was late for work. She practically fled to her car, not daring to glance back and see if he was watching.

Feyre supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised when he showed up to the cafe later that day.

“Feyre,” he said in greeting, voice rich and dark as the coffee she handed to him.“To think the pretty girl at the cafe is the one who moved onto my cousin’s sofa.”

She tried to muster a smile, wishing her attention didn’t catch on the word pretty like a scratched record. “Small world.”

“We’re not strangers much at all, it seems.”

“I’d still consider you one,” she asserted, raising a brow.

“What can I do to change that?” Rhys asked, leaning forward. He hadn’t paid yet—though there was no one else in line, it made Feyre feel nervous since she had no excuse to duck out of the conversation. “Can I take you out to dinner?”

She was lying to herself in saying she wasn’t tempted. And she felt better knowing that he was related to Mor, but—“Honestly, Rhysand, my schedule is crazy. I barely have time to eat a granola bar let alone go out to dinner.”

His lips twitched, as though trying not to smile. Feyre couldn’t fathom what could have possibly been amusing about what she said, but at least he finally slid her a ten dollar bill.

“I think I liked it better when you called me sir.”

Something about the implication of those words made Feyre feel as though she’d swallowed a hummingbird, and it was still fluttering around in her chest. She prayed her blush wasn’t obvious as she handed him back his change, hardly paying attention as he dropped it in the tip jar and left.

⟡⟡⟡

As the holidays loomed closer Feyre was finding she was busier than ever. The cafe was swarmed constantly and every class had deadlines that needed to be completed before the end of semester. She really was starting to feel burnt out, but she could hardly take a break when every aspect of her life was demanding so much from her. The pressure was starting to feel crippling, but if she just pushed a little longer—

Her internal monologue was disrupted by the heavy crash of a tray of coffee as it hit the floor.

She’d been rushing to deliver drinks to a pair of seated customers, and was trying to focus on so many things at once that she hadn’t noticed the man who’d stepped into her path.

The sight of the spilled coffee with a line nearly to the door was almost enough to put her on the verge of hysterics, made all the worse when she looked up to apologise to the victim and saw it was none other than Rhysand, with a dark stain all over the front of what was an undoubtedly expensive shirt.

“We should stop meeting like this, Feyre Darling.”

“Rhys—“ she choked, feeling the tears welling up and trying so desperately to fight them. “I am so sorry. I’ll pay for you to get that dry cleaned and I’ll get you a coffee on the house. And—“

“Hey,” he chided, pressing a hand to her shoulder. “Take a deep breath, darling. Go deal with the line, we can talk after.”

She thought his wording sounded vaguely ominous, but his eyes were gentle. It settled her nerves enough to nod and rush back behind the counter to remake the drinks she’d just dumped on his chest.

The line was endless and lasted until the end of her shift, but Rhys waited, looking thoughtful from where he sat at one of the high tables. She let him stay as she closed up, making him a coffee before she turned off the machines.

He looked up as she joined him at the table.

“Sorry again,” she said, sliding the coffee to him like a peace offering. “I should have been paying better attention.”

“That’s alright, darling.” His long, elegant fingers curled around the cardboard cup. Feyre’s wished she wasn’t always so scrutinous to detail—she had been doing just fine without noticing Rhys’s perfect fingers, and now she felt quite wrecked at how much she wanted to feel them elsewhere. As her eyes finally trailed up to meet his face, she saw that he was smirking, as if he could see right past to her impure thoughts. “I was thinking of ways you could make it up to me.”

“Getting it dry cleaned isn’t enough?” She asked nervously, worried he might insist she buy a replacement, certain she couldn’t afford one.

“No, I don’t need you to pay for my dry cleaning. But there is an upcoming gala that I need someone pretty on my arm for. I was hoping you could be my plus one.” As she opened her mouth to protest, he added, “Before you say you don’t have the time—I’ll pay for it. I’ll compensate you for the wages you’ll have missed, I’ll pay for your dress and transport, everything. All you have to do is come, Feyre.”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief. She had a hard enough time believing that Rhys would have trouble finding a date, but the fact that he was willing to pay her for it?

“Are you propositioning me?” She asked, only half joking.

He clucked his tongue in a disapproval that seemed to shoot all the way down her spine. “It’s a one time, mutually beneficial arrangement. You have my sincere word that I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

She pressed her lips together, reluctant to admit that it would be a nice change of pace. And that she’d secretly been regretting turning down his dinner invitation. “When is it?”

“The 21st,” he answered. “It’s a winter solstice theme.”

Her birthday.

At her silence, Rhys raised a brow. “Is something wrong?”

Her birthday that she’d been planning on working through. She supposed at least she could pretend she was celebrating it at a fancy party.

“Nothing,” she said. “I’ll request that day off.”

He pursed his lips. “Request the week leading up to it off, too.”

“What?”

“You’ve been working yourself to the bone, and I can hardly have my date showing up with dark circles under her eyes. I’ll compensate you for that time, too. Just take the time to rest and actually have some proper meals.”

She bit her lips, half certain this was a dream. “Okay.”

He grinned. “Good girl.”

And with those parting words burning something dark and unholy deep in her stomach, he slid off the chair and saw himself out with a short, “see you tomorrow, darling.”

⟡⟡⟡

The paid time off was admittedly exactly what Feyre had been needing. She was able to breathe while focusing on finishing up the semester. And for what felt like the first time in forever, she was well rested and eating regular meals.

The morning of Feyre’s birthday, Mor greeted her with a cupcake adorned with a single candle.

“22 looks good on you, Fey!”

She smiled, accepting the cupcake and the subsequent hug from her friend, before she turned her attention to the beautifully wrapped box on the table.

“Oh, Rhys dropped this off this morning. I’m surprised you told him it’s your birthday.”

“I didn’t,” Feyre said, setting the cupcake down so she could carefully open up the box.

What lay inside was perhaps the most beautiful gown Feyre had ever seen. Mor gasped as she pulled it out, its tiny blue gems glinting under the fluorescents, like a dress sewn from fractals of starlight. Feyre thought it was probably the most expensive piece of clothing she’d ever wear. It was accompanied by a note that instructed her to be ready by 8pm.

Mor grinned as she read it. “Don’t tell me—you’re going to the solstice gala with my cousin.”

Feyre sighed, hating the conspiratorial glint she saw in Mor’s brown eyes. “I owed him a favour.”

“Well you have to let me help you get ready,” Mor insisted.

Feyre looked over the gown that could have easily been worn on a red carpet. If this was the standard for people who were attending, then she’d need all the help she could get.

Fortunately that sort of thing came effortlessly to Mor, and by the time 8 o’clock rolled around, Feyre could hardly recognise herself in the mirror.

The dress somehow hugged her perfectly, diamond-cuffed sleeves tight and neckline modest. Mor had swept her hair off her face with two glittering silver combs. With the added makeup, Feyre felt straight out of a fairytale—Cinderella transformed into someone who could woo a prince.

Rhys certainly looked impressed when she opened the door to him.

He smiled, eyes roaming over her figure appreciatively. “You look exactly as I hoped you would,” he said, offering his arm. When she accepted it, he leaned in close and added, “every head is going to be turned towards you the second we enter that room.”

It seemed like an outrageous exaggeration, but she would believe it from the darkness in Rhysand’s eyes as they swept over her a second time, then a third, before he opened the limo for her.

She didn’t know why she expected anything else. “Isn’t this a bit much?”

“If this is the only chance I have to take you out, then I’m going to play every card I have.”

She raised her brows as he settled in the seat across from her. “I thought you said this was strictly professional.”

“I said I’d keep my hands to myself,” he hedged. “I never said I wouldn’t try to impress you.”

Feyre couldn’t fathom why he’d want to impress her, since she’d never even been in a limo before. She looked around in awe, thinking if this was just the first card up his sleeve then she’d be in for a long evening.

The gala was more intimidating than Feyre imagined. She was uncertain if Rhys was someone particularly renowned, or if it was just because he was exceedingly attractive, but there were eyes on them the entire time they were there. As someone who was not used to so much attention, even though she was not the subject of it directly, Feyre found herself feeling very shy.

“There’s no need to be bashful, Feyre darling,” he whispered in her ear at one point. “Every person in this room is wondering what they’d give up to have you on their arm.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, ducking her face into a flute of champagne to hide just how much his compliment affected her. “They’re obviously all looking at you.”

“They’re looking at me because I’m here with the most beautiful woman in the room.”

She rolled her eyes, which caused his full lips to quirk in amusement. “I didn’t realise you were so dramatic.”

“And I didn’t realise you were so modest.”

Feyre would have protested that she wasn’t, but… she did feel self-conscious, and no amount of lying would change that. But the way he surveyed her might, like he was appraising a work of art. Feyre felt scorched by that look. For just a moment, she forgot about everyone else in the room as those piercing violet eyes met hers, eyes that had consumed her thoughts for far longer than she’d had a name they belonged to. For half a moment, she wondered if maybe her eyes had enchanted him the same way—if maybe he came to the cafe everyday for more than just the coffee. She’d always felt a strange magnetism to him, but up until a week ago she’d assumed it had been one sided.

“A thought for a thought, darling?” he murmured, reminding Feyre that they’d been stood staring at each other, not saying very much else.

“A what?”

He smiled the way a feline might once it cornered its prey. “I tell you something I’m thinking, and in exchange you tell me something. For example, I was thinking how ravishing you look tonight.”

The gesture he made to the shimmering dress seemed casual, but somehow felt crude when accompanied by his dark gaze. She almost shivered from it.

“I was thinking that you make a horrid flirt.”

He grinned, stepped closer. She marvelled at the length of his eyelashes as he flitted his eyes down to her, how they nearly skimmed his sharp cheekbones.

“Well I’m thinking that you don’t mind it as much as you pretend to.”

This close she could smell his cologne. It reminded Feyre of her childhood trips to the East coast, the salt spray of the cold sea where it splashed against the pier. She thought it suited him, that dark churning sea, cool and refined. She swallowed, wishing those dark, starkissed eyes would look anywhere else. She felt completely succumbed by their intensity, and they were making it impossible to think straight.

“I think you’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what on purpose?” He practically purred the words.

Maybe it was the champagne that had been readily flowing since they’d gotten here, but she found herself blurting, “trying to make me regret your promise to keep your hands to yourself.”

He arched a single, perfectly groomed brow in intrigue. “And do you regret my promise?”

It was a step too far for Feyre to actually admit it, but her silence was admission enough. The smile that broke across his face was near blinding, showing off perfect rows of white teeth. She couldn’t help wondering how those teeth would feel against her neck, especially as he leaned so close she could feel his breath, mouth hovering just beside her ear.

“I take my promises very seriously, Feyre Darling.” His voice dropped low, with a scrape so sensual it almost made Feyre whimper. “So I’ll be keeping my hands to myself until the moment I drop you off—but that doesn’t mean you have to.”

She—what?

He pulled away with a wink, leaving her dumbfounded as she contemplated his offer.

Would it be inappropriate to pursue something with him? It made her joke about propositioning feel too real. But to deny that she’d been lusting after him the moment he’d walked into the cafe, back when it felt like a fantasy far out of reach, would be a blatant lie. It was obvious he had money. Stupid money. It was also obvious he liked her. Was it so bad to accept his stupidly lavish gestures, if she liked him too? On a list of immoral things she didn’t feel like it was the worst. She wouldn’t be compromising her core values.

Feyre worried her teeth at her lower lip, wondering how messy things could get. No money had been exchanged, if she decided she was too uncomfortable being paid for coming to the gala with him she could always refuse it. It didn’t have to feel like propositioning… not if it was consensual. Not if they both liked each other.

“You’re driving me crazy, doing that,” he murmured, drawing her from her thoughts to see that his eyes were locked on the way she’d been biting her lip. “I don’t have any expectations from you, darling. I just wanted to enjoy the evening with a beautiful woman I’d been long admiring, so I might get to know her a little better.”

“How long?” she found herself asking.

“Since the moment I walked into the cafe and looked into those exquisite blue eyes.”

No one had ever described her eyes that way. For so long, Feyre had resented them for reminding her too much of her mother and sister. No one had ever told her they’re beautiful for belonging to her. The fact that it came from Rhysand, who had the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen, somehow made it even more meaningful.

“Tell me one thing about how you feel about me,” he asked, almost pleaded. “Just one thing, and then I’ll back off.”

She took a heavy breath to prepare herself for the truth she’d never spoken aloud before. “I wait for you to come in everyday. I know it’s silly because we hardly even talk, but… every time the bell rings I look up hoping it’s you, and I’m disappointed when it’s not.”

“It’s not just me then,” he breathed. “I’m not the only one who feels this magnetism between ua.”

“No,” she whispered, hardly believing it. “You’re not.”

⟡⟡⟡

Though she’d longed to, Feyre couldn’t bring herself to do anything more than the timid flirting they’d kept up most of the evening. But once they were back in the limo, and the pressure of so many eyes finally faded, what settled between them instead was something thick and heavy—the result of so many empty promises made with words and eye contact alike.

It felt almost stifling, the tension between them. Their eyes met and Feyre read the challenge that glittered in his. The look that seemed to read are you bold enough, darling?

Really, how often had she taken the safest choice because it was convenient? Less frightening? She could probably count on her hand how many risks she’d taken in life and none of them stood as much to gain as the risk that sat before her, smirking like he read her decision before she’d even made it.

Because all it took was one single, crooked finger from him around the glass of scotch he held to his lips, and Feyre was in his lap. He lowered the glass, but didn’t set it down. “And here I should have been the one worried about you putting your hands all over me.”

She playfully fingered at the top button of his collar. “Are you saying you want me to put my hands away?”

“Far from it, darling. I want those hands and that pretty mouth anywhere you’re willing to put them.”

At this point, she hardly needed more encouragement than that. The button came undone, revealing the dark skin of his collarbone that she immediately traced with her mouth, leaving lipstick stains that she was certain he’d wear like badges of honour. Rhys grunted his approval, tilting his head to offer her better access to his neck, so that’s where her lips found next. Then her teeth. Then her tongue.

She could taste the salt of his skin, nearly as addictive as his cologne, which was stronger where her face pressed against his pulsepoint. Her hands searched the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his well cut suit. And feeling how toned he was… well, she wanted to run her tongue over every ridge of muscle and taste that, too.

Feyre pulled back from his neck, smiling at the lovebite she left behind before she met Rhys’s heady gaze. The grip on his scotch had tightened, but at her attention he pulled a long sip from it.

“I may be keeping my hands to myself, darling,” he mused when he lowered the glass once more. “But I’ll be sure to remember every little bruise you leave for me. Just in case I find myself with the opportunity to repay you for them.”

Feyre wondered, suddenly, if he held onto the glass as a means of self restraint. Thinking that made things too easy for him, she reached out and tentatively took the scotch from him, meeting his eyes as she took a long sip for herself, lipstick staining the rim. He watched her, so carefully, as she pulled the glass away, but when she went to set it down he clucked his tongue in that same way that had sent her nerves skittering in the cafe.

A warning, a sound that begged not to be disapproved. Part of her was tempted to put it away, just to see what he’d do, but the other… the other wanted to hear him call her a good girl again. So she batted her eyes apologetically and handed the glass back.

“Good decision, Feyre, being a good girl for me. I’ll remember that, too.”

She couldn’t help but love the implication that there would be more, that Rhys was already planning what he would do to her when it happened. Feyre had a sneaking suspicion she wouldn’t have nearly as much control then, so she made a mental note to savour it while it lasted.

Feyre leaned forward, fingers at the buttons of his shirt once more while she pressed open mouth kisses to his neck, leading up to his ear.

She nipped at his lobe. “What do I get for being a good girl?”

His lips twitched into a taunting smile. “A bold question for someone who’s supposedly a good girl, but you’re still learning what I like.”

She hummed something sweet and placative. “And what do you like, daddy?”

Rhys went stiff beneath her, and for a moment Feyre panicked. It just felt so natural to say, the word completely slipped out. But then Rhys practically growled as he spread his knees under her, forcing Feyre to shift until she straddled a single leg.

“Good girls get to ride daddy’s thigh.”

He pushed his leg up until it was pressed flush between her legs, applying a pressure to her clit that nearly had her keening already.

Rhys stared at her as he took another long, casual sip of his scotch, brows raised as if to ask what she was waiting for. The scotch wasn’t just a means of keeping his hands to himself, Feyre thought. She was his own personal show.

Then damn it, she was going to be a good one. Smiling sweetly, Feyre gathered the gown that was already bunched at her hips and drew it over her head, grateful she’d decided to wear her sexier pieces of lace.

She marked the approval in Rhysand’s eyes, and Feyre made a good show of cupping her breasts before she started grinding against his thigh in earnest.

He managed to keep his face remarkably neutral, continuing to sip from his glass as though he were still at the gala. Fortunately his dress pants were tight enough to tell a different story, and Feyre bit her lip as she noted the considerable length of him. She never had a partner that big before, and she wondered briefly if she’d be able to manage fitting him in her mouth. She was certainly tempted to try.

“Drooling over daddy’s cock already, darling?” he cooed, noticing her stare. “My, you’re a greedy little thing. Hardly even finished riding my thigh.”

She was close, though. Especially if he kept talking to her like that. The noises that escaped her as she writhed against his thigh, staring at the shape of his cock and imagining what it might feel like… They were mortifying, to say the least, but the swirling desire in Rhysand’s gaze told her he enjoyed them.

Feyre’s breath started hitching as her pleasure rose closer and closer to that sweet pinnacle, his muscular thigh providing the perfect amount of pressure. She tipped her head back and moaned, long and loud, as she snaked a hand up to pinch her nipple through her bra.

Rhys snapped his fingers as she felt herself reach the edge, and it drew her attention back to him as her legs shook. His violet eyes were burning. “Look at daddy when you come for him. Say my name, darling.”

“Rhys,” she moaned, the word barely formed as she rutted desperately against his leg. She cried out as the pleasure crested, and white hot starlight flooded her veins.

“Daddy,” she panted, as Rhys took up the work for her, moving his thigh to work her through her orgasm until she half collapsed against him, tucking her face into his shoulder even as he kept moving his leg. “Daddy, please.”

“Please, what, darling?”

“It’s too much,” she complained, twitching now as Rhys started to overstimulate her so soon after orgasm.

“You can do it, darling,” he encouraged. “Don’t you want to be a good girl for daddy?”

“I do,” she whimpered.

He hummed thoughtfully. “I know you do, Feyre. Maybe you can do something else for daddy, then. To make up for the mess you made on his thigh.”

The pressure from his thigh now retreating, Feyre could have sobbed in relief. She sat up, watching with renewed interest as he swept his fingers against the wet spot on his trousers and promptly brought it to his lips.

He sucked them off with a flourish that could have belonged to a content customer in a high end restaurant, grinning at her. “You’re absolutely delectable, Feyre. Just as I expected.”

She might have blushed if she didn’t feel like she was far past the point of embarrassment.

“Now,” Rhys said, leaning away from Feyre to refill his glass. “How would you feel about tasting daddy in return?”

She’d been thinking about it since the moment she’d seen the outline of him through his trousers. Perhaps she dropped to her knees a bit too eagerly, but she practically beamed at the way he smiled and told her she was a good girl for doing so. Feyre watched as he spread his knees and leaned back, giving her wide open access to his lap.

In a different context, she would have thought he looked like a massive, self-obsessed prick. Maybe that’s why she loved it, but she didn’t want to think about that too closely just then.

With the care of someone opening a beautifully wrapped present, Feyre slowly unbuttoned his trousers and freed Rhysand’s hardened length from his boxers. Already her mouth was watering at the sight of the precum that beaded on the tip of his rosy head, like a droplet of water on a flower petal.

Settling herself comfortably between his thighs, that was the first thing she decided to taste, holding it on her tongue like it was her own personal ambrosia. Rhys grunted, hooded eyes watching her behind the crystal rim he held to his lips. She decided to hold out her tongue to show it to him proudly, humming contentedly as she swallowed and returned her lips to his head.

He was even bigger than she’d imagined. Building up the courage to put him down her throat, she started first by swirling her tongue along every inch she could find, covering him in what was left of her red lipstick. The guttural noise that Rhys made in his throat was well worth it, and when she deemed him adequately covered, she started the process of taking him into her mouth.

Though he’d yet to voice his approval, she could already tell he loved it by the involuntary twitch of his hips. With the softest smile she brought her fists around his base, trying to move her mouth and hand in tandem as she slowly worked him down her throat.

She paused when she was halfway through, already fighting her gag reflex. Her eyes flickered up to his, feeling proud when she noticed that the glass of scotch was now completely forgotten.

“You look so pretty with your lips around my cock, darling,” he murmured, nothing but reverence in his voice. “Do you think you can take more?”

She nodded, the motion causing him to moan as she bobbed slightly further down his length. “That’s it, darling,” he said, moving his hips ever so slightly to encourage her to take more. “Just relax for me, Feyre, you’re almost there.”

He jutted his hips, a bit more forcefully this time, and it caused her to gag as he scraped against the back of her throat. Rhys swore headily. “Fuck, Feyre. I love watching you choke around my cock.”

Tears sprung to her eyes as she fought to relax against her gag reflex, opening her mouth as wide as she could to take the rest of him. When her nose brushed against his gentle wisps of hair, and he was fully seated, Rhys supplied a filthy litany of praise that had her humming in pride.

“So good for me, darling,” he grunted, beginning to thrust into her mouth. “Your sweet little mouth feels amazing around daddy’s cock.”

Feyre hummed her agreement, because everytime she did it seemed to draw a string of curse words from Rhys. He was fucking into her mouth with abandon, now, and she did her best to keep her jaw open and her tongue relaxed. Though every time she did gag, he seemed to love it. And she started dribbling down her chin, making a mess of the leather seat below, he seemed to love that, too.

“I’m going to come, Feyre,” he warned, voice rough. “Swallow for daddy like a good girl.”

She readily obeyed, holding his dark gaze as he spilled his release down her throat. She took extra care to make sure not a drop spilled, and when he removed himself she held out her clean tongue, causing him to laugh with something like affection.

“That was amazing, Feyre,” Rhys whispered, voice softened. He leaned forward as if he might kiss her, then hesitated. Instead he offered her a smile. “You did so well.”

He looked around for something to help her clean up with, cringing when all he could find was a napkin from the minibar. Still, it helped clean up the drool.

It was only after she started pulling her dress back on that she realised the limo had stopped—she didn’t want to think about how long it had been that way. Rhysand opened the door for her and helped Feyre out of the limo, holding her delicately by the arm.

She was nearly so distracted by the sweet gesture, she didn’t notice that they weren’t at all in front of Mor’s apartment like she’d thought.

“Where are we?” she asked, in near disbelief that Rhys would bring her back to his house without even telling her…

“Were you ever going to mention it’s your birthday?” he asked, glancing at her curiously.

Feyre frowned, hardly seeing what that had to do with her question. Of course Mor decided to tell him. “I had a good time without needing to celebrate it.”

Shuffling into his pocket, Rhys pulled out a set of keys and handed them to her, nodding toward the apartment complex. “Number 55.”

“What?” she asked, staring at the key, not quite putting it together.

“It’s your birthday gift,” he said, grinning. “I don’t suspect my cousin’s couch is very comfortable.”

“Rhys,” she scolded, shocked. “I’m not letting you get me an apartment for my birthday.”

“I’m not,” he said with a shrug, shoving his hands into his pockets as the only sign of his uncertainty. “I mean, I would, but I knew you wouldn’t accept it. So instead I’m giving you a key, to one of my apartments that I don’t use. Really you’re just exchanging one couch for another, except now you’ll be able to have a bed and a place to yourself.” At her look he hastily added, “I promise I won’t bother you. Really, Feyre, it would just be sitting here otherwise. Please, take it.”

She sighed, staring at the key in her hand. “You can be a little bit insufferable, you know that?”

The smile he gave her said that he knew exactly how insufferable he was. Feyre supposed it wouldn’t hurt to… see how things go. This wasn’t binding. With a shy smile she looked over to Rhys and opened her arms for a hug, which he accepted with no hesitation.

“Thank you, Rhys.”

“Happy birthday, darling,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

When he pulled away, she could tell he was still uncertain. Hovering between getting back in the limo or staying with her. Biting her lip, she looked to him and asked, “would you like to… stay at my place?”

His returning grin sent electric heat through her every nerve. “I thought you’d never ask, darling. I have a pretty little birthday girl I want to spoil.”

“I thought you needed to keep your hands to yourself,” she teased.

His expression shifted to one of pure, wicked delight. “I promised to keep my hands to myself until I dropped you off at your place. I believe that condition has been fulfilled, and now I won’t be breaking any promises by putting my hands all over you.”

⟡⟡⟡

Taglist: @cretaceous-therapod @achernarlight @arrowmusings @live-the-fangirl-life @imsecretlyaherondale-blog @thenightgodess-feyrearcheron @story-scribbler @thebonecarver @swankii-art-teacher @rhysandswingspan

[poptod]

Cyber Security (Elliot Alderson)

Description: An online ad leads him to you, though in reality he has little interest in your ad. What interests him is how you accidentally doxxed yourself and how oblivious you are to that fact.

Notes: idrk what to say about this one its one of those things that i wrote at midnight after almost falling asleep to a fantasy and then realizing it could work as a fic. like i did this same thing with ‘close your eyes’ that one was also a before-bed-to-get-to-sleep fantasy. this is also not a particularly romantic interaction, though it can be read as such WC: 2.2k

+

Sweat drenched his sheets, bathing him in the cold wind that breezed past his only air conditioner lodged in a nearby window. He stared blankly upwards, half shivering and half overheated, as he once again found himself in a familiar predicament—the practice of sleep.

It was no secret he had trouble calming himself down, and that aspect of himself reached into the evening, as well. He already downed three melatonin pills hours earlier, along with smoking a joint that should’ve put him to bed. Unsurprisingly, that did not work.

“Xanax,” he mumbled to himself, hearing it bounce back from empty walls. “Need to get xanax.”

In the meantime he raised himself to his feet, padding across freezing floors to his computer. With a click of a button the white screen buzzed to life, shining bright onto his sleep-heavy eyes, that did their best to acclimatize to the sudden change.

Hypnotization—strange as it might’ve been—had worked a couple times before. Not all the time, but decently enough to give it a try. He had work in the morning and he didn’t need to be more miserable than usual, especially since he hadn’t slept almost the entire weekend.

sleep hypnosis

The blinker flickered for a moment before his fourth finger slammed down on enter, the last step in calculated movements. What popped up first was a video titled [ SLEEP HYPNOSIS ] 8 Hour Loop with a screencap of a spinning black and white screen. Below that, however, was something he hadn’t seen before—a YouTube video titled exactly what he’d typed, lacking the caps just as he had. The title screen appeared to be some sort of poorly-drawn painting.

Curiosity overcame his hazy, aching head, and he clicked, finding a playlist of videos containing what could be the titles of songs, along with several different poorly-drawn title screens.

The first video began to play before he could realize it. What he first noticed was it was bereft of ads—that meant the publisher made no money off the album.

Sat in the presence of God

whose name means filthy old fraud

Captions had been manually added by, he assumed, you. The author. There were three views on the video, no comments, and no likes, leaving few other options.

Maybe it was the melody—maybe the lyrics, who talked of a world plagued by aristocrats. But he found his eyelids heavy, dropping dark eyelashes in his vision that blurred the screen. By the third song, reciting verses of an Islamic poem, he was slouched in his seat.

He slid down to the floor, crawling his way back to flop onto his bed. The music continued to play till the first ad popped up, at which time he opened his eyes, seeing a music video from Katy Perry, at which time he promptly reached over and unplugged his computer. He wasn’t sure which cord he pulled out, but the screen still went black. With that, he just barely sneaked into his covers, dozing until the morning.

It was far too easy to get information on you. Your full name was stated clearly in your youtube bio, alongside several different social media tags leading to instagram, tumblr, and facebook.

Facebook alone provided him the means to your address, and he didn’t even have to go looking for it. Your most recent post was an ad, searching for someone good with computers to aid you in your recording process, which you noted as ‘dismal’.

Are you fucking kidding me? He thought to himself, reading the ad once more.

Your address, your real, physical address was stated as the place you wanted to meet those interested in helping you. On the internet. You had doxxed yourself after less than a year of being online.

Okay, he thought, clicking on your listed email. Someone needs to be taught a lesson.

Three days later—after about two weeks of listening to your echoing voice every night—you replied, sending a cheerful email detailing when you would be available to meet him. After shooting a short message back, the date was organized.

Two more days and he was standing at your doorstep, his neck craned upwards as he scanned your tall, narrow home squished between two other apartments. He just barely knocked before the black door swung open, revealing a familiar face belonging to a stranger. Elliot was dressed in his black hoodie and jeans, a stark difference to your long, colorful robes, coming out of a sort of fantasy world.

“Hi,” he said, his voice grating with how low and quiet he kept it.

“Hello,” you said with a smile that did not match his hunched posture. “Are you Mr. Alderson?”

“Elliot,” he corrected, his chin just barely raising to meet you. “Elliot Alderson. Elliot works.”

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “Come inside? I was just making tea. Do you like tea? Or do you prefer coffee?”

“I... I’m fine, thanks,” he said softly, scooting past you when you opened the door wide enough for him to enter. He sucked in a breath as his chest brushed yours.

Your home was modern—far fancier than Elliot’s own apartment, with large windows flanked by soft grey curtains. A small, upright piano was in the corner of the living room, set upon a reed mat lined with Korean symbols. The couch was clinical, made of a sort of black plastic leather that matched the grey skies beyond the window panes.

He sat down, shifting his feet closer together as his fingers dug into his palms, continuing to scan the room in its’ entirety until you returned with your own tea.

“What kind of experience do you have? School counts,” you said, setting your cup down on a tiny plate whose decorations matched your teacup.

“I’ve been... experimenting, with computers, since I was around 9,” he said, mumbling the words out as his shoulders hunched awkwardly down. “Have a job at a cyber security firm. Started a while back.”

“You still have that job?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small nod. “Jus’ thought this would be... fun.”

The dead look on his face indicated no humor whatsoever, but you took his word as it was.

“How’d you find the ad I put out?”

“I... I listened to your music,” he answered honestly for once. “Helps me fall asleep.”

“Oh,” you said, clearly taken aback. Your face grew warm as you glanced away with wide eyes. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re not very good with technology, though,” he said in his usual low, grating voice.

“Not really,” you chuckled sheepishly. “That’s why I put out the ad -“

“No, not that,” he interrupted you. “You put your physical address on the internet. You doxxed yourself. Do you even know how dangerous that is?”

The lyrics of your songs pointed towards a kind of brilliance, balanced against emotions felt thoroughly on pages and screens. It didn’t match your actions at all.

“What’s doxxing?” You asked.

Elliot had to physically stop himself from sighing and leaving.

“You want everyone to know where you, a minor celebrity, live?”

“I’d hardly call myself a -“

“I could’ve been a murderer,” he said, reaching into his bag.

He looked you in the eye as he pulled out a gun, clicking on the safety before he pointed it at you.

“This is how easy it would be to kill you.”

As expected, you stiffened at the sight of the iron barrel, your fingers withdrawing to your chest. Your lips pursed as you met his gaze once more.

“Please put the gun down,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

He did as you said, resting the gun on the table.

“That’s a hell of a way to start an interview, Mr. Alderson,” you said quietly. “Please get out of my house.”

His heart sank. What had he expected? For you to fall to your knees and sing to him as he desired you to do? He threatened you with a gun to teach you a lesson, and you reacted accordingly. Calmer than others would.

Elliot stood on shaky legs, sliding the pistol into his backpack before he zipped it up. Throwing the pack over his shoulder, he swallowed through a tight throat, shuffling as he delayed his departure.

“Keep safe from people like me,” he said in a strained mumble. “Take that ad down. Meet people from the internet only in inhabited, public areas.”

You tapped your fingernails on the table for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. Suddenly you stood, tugging on his sweatshirt sleeve to get him to face you, instead of staring at his feet.

“Alright. If you’re really so good at the internet -“

He ignored your incorrect grammar.

“- and... if you actually do want to help me with my songs,” your tone softened, “then you’ll be able to find my real name, not my stage name. If you do.. I’ll hire you.”

“Alright,” he said monotone, knowing the battle was already won.

Even though he knew your name already, he turned away and left to his apartment, immediately going to work on figuring out everything he could about you. If you willingly still offered him the job after that, he knew it would take a lot to scare you off. He could impress you.

It was, after all, the only thing he was good at.

Two days later he showed up at your apartment again, quietly thanking you when you let him in. The clean floors and walls remained unchanged since his last visit, and you led him to the same table, sitting him down on the same seat.

“Your name is (Y/N) (L/N),” he started with. You already appeared to be surprise. “You grew up near LA and you’ve had a chronic illness all your life. At eleven you saw your first therapist.. that must’ve been when you first got diagnosed with depression... and anxiety.”

“Killer duo,” you muttered.

“Your parents split when you were thirteen, which came at the same time as your dog, Penelope, died. Or... sometime that year. When was that... 1997?”

“1999,” you said quietly.

“Your mom homeschooled you,” he continued. “That’s probably why you don’t know how computers work. Rather eclectic, in a.. boring way... an ex-Amish, right?”

You nodded and his heartbeat tripled. Everything was right thus far despite a two year difference in his guesstimate of your life’s timeline.

“Then there was your dad... logger in the Redwood forests. Burly guy. Not a great man, from what I saw,” he said.

“He was fine,” you said with a small shrug as you looked away. “Didn’t ever hurt me, or anything.”

“Abuse isn’t always physical,” he said faster than he could think, dizzied by his own memories playing behind his eyes.

“I know,” you murmured.

You went silent, so he continued, hoping to pry more precious words from you.

“Your favorite color is yellow,” he said, leaning closer to you. “On Valentine’s you get chocolate strawberries, and on easter you get kinder eggs.”

Nothing.

“You studied mythology as a kid, and you made paintings of the forest you lived in with your mom. Santa Cruz mountains, I think.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I miss the forests.”

“I know. You want to visit Ireland again because it’s a land of faeries and moss, it’s a breeding ground for your song lyrics.”

“How did you find all this out?” You finally asked.

“You use the same password on everything,” he said, though that was far from the actual answer. “Your web browser tracks all your movements and you don’t try to stop it, or hide ads, or stay away from sketchy websites. Your parents aren’t much better, either.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you brought your hand to massage your brow.

“You’re way too smart to be helping me,” you said with soft laughter, blushing with your smile.

“It’s better than working for E Corp,” he said, huffing out a laugh that was hardly humored.

“E corp?”

“My.. uh, place of work,” he brushed off his slip. “My point is... I’d rather work with you and do easy work than work with my current fucking coworkers.”

You laughed, truly and fully this time, curling into a little ball that shook with the force of it. Your feet tucked into your tiny chair, making you even smaller.

“Bad people or just annoying?”

“Stupid,” he chuckled. “Don’t let me wear my sweatshirt.”

“Ooh, now it’s my turn,” you suddenly interrupted him, earning a strange look. “I’ve noticed things about you, too. I couldn’t learn anything off the computer, but you, you have anxiety too. Probably some childhood trauma.. maybe a dissociative disorder of sorts or a form of PTSD. Your jacket is like your home, and... you have sensory issues. Few types of fabric, don’t like to be touched, if I had to guess I’d say you might be autistic.”

“Blunt,” he said after a full minute’s silence.

“Do you mind?” You asked.

“No, not really.”

“Good. Then you’re hired,” you said with a smile, extending your hand for him to shake. “If you still want the job, of course.”

He watched you with evident apprehension, but took your hand after much thought, shaking with a firm grip.

“When do I start?”