#based of the Monet painting

[stinkybrowndogs]

Dog with Sheep

Painting hard :(

[cctinsleybaxter]

My favorite thing about the real-time documentation of 2014 memes post is actually that john green is brought up multiple times but not the edited text posts or his resignation from the site; proto-'haunting the narrative'

[codacheetah]

The thing is the idea of making stickers and prints and shirts or whatever appeals to me greatly because I love having art that I can port around in meatspace but I just don't think I can ever do something like redbubble The idea of adding to the sea of factory produced plastic garbage makes me want to vom

[tapiocapo]

I love making these little art ponies

[wallpaper-inside-my-heart]

Family christmas dinner today... So in order to keep my sansity a bit; Everyone please go pick:

Patterns by TheStitchPatterns - Etsy.de 💚

[spxcesuits]

finally figured out the colour pallete for this zine piece no longer hopeless

[lostinlovingrevery]

Fever

Patch! Logan X F! Reader

He wants you to be his

A/N: the way this just kept going lol....Also consider this a hint/peek at what the Patch! series will look like! (w/ some things changed)

Warnings: 5K WC LOL, SMUT! reader is a singer and wears a sexy dress, creepy pervert boss- unwanted touch!, drinking, patch being a flirt, secret established relationship, possessive! logan, patch defending his girl so violence, unprotected piv, f! and m! oral recieving, doggy I guess?, choke hold, marking, a little bit rough sex but not that much, you get fucked silly, yay!

Getting through the night was always a little hard. 

As someone who hates being the center of attention, you’re not sure why you choose to be an entertainer of all things.

Standing on a stage, blinded by shining lights, made deaf by the orchestra that surrounds you. Wearing a dress that shows a tad too much cleavage, snapping your fingers to the beat while swinging your hips side to side and showing the world what your momma gave you.

Your voice echoes back in your ears as you sing and it doesn’t even sound like you. 

Sun lights up the daytime

Moon lights up the night

I light up when you call my name

And you know I'm gonna treat you right

You give me fever

Yet despite the quiet anxiety you feel onstage, where hundreds of onlookers watch you- faces of envy, jealousy, lust- you still felt yourself lost in the lyrics of your song. It captivates you, a song falling between love and lust. A song you find yourself in every day lately.

You couldn’t make out the sea of faces that stared up at you- the stage lights left white spots in your version, blurring the scene before you like a Claude Monet painting with the vast colors that decorated the crowd. 

Even with such an audience in the room, you could feel the stare of one man. Every set you play- even when you don’t see him, you can feel him. 

You finished your set, the last song of the night. Thank god.

The audience claps, a few whistles and whoops. You thanked them for a wonderful night, and handed the microphone off to the announcer who gave you a chaste kiss to the back of your hand, bidding you compliments and a good night to the audience and you quickly made your exit. 

The first place you went to is the bar. 

Needing a drink to take the edge off, and decompress before you head upstairs to your room. The bartender, a dear friend of yours- already knew you were on your way and had prepared your favorite. 

She had set it on the counter the moment you sat on your stool. 

“Thank you-” You smile, your voice sounding a little hoarse as you clear it. You took the glass, taking a generous sip that burned your throat and did nothing to quench your actual thirst- but at least you could relax a bit.

“Beautiful tonight as always,” She compliments. “ Y’know…” She glanced around, checking to see if anyone was watching, the bar- set off to the side of the large showroom sat mostly empty. Most patrons cleared out after the last song- drunk and horny and looking to either crash in their rooms or find an escort to keep them company for the night. “I noticed you’ve been singing a lot of love songs lately…” 

You rolled your eyes, “Sweetheart, my whole style is based on crooners. You show me a song from them that isn’t about love.”

“There’s a few I’ve heard you sing. This is different though you’re like…So into it.” She teases, tapping you on the hand that held your drink. She then mimics you singing, being extra dramatic in her expression and mimicking the lyrics. You begin to laugh.

“I don’t do that!” You playfully shoved her, but you felt heat blooming in your cheeks. You went to sip your drink while your friend continued teasing you, and you turned your back away from her- pretending as if you didn’t know her. 

You were smiling to yourself, looking down at your drink when you noticed a pair of dress shoes. You brought the glass to your lips, as your eyes trailed up the white suit that stood before you, taking in the broad shoulders before reaching the handsome face. 

An infamous man known as Patch, at least around here. Nicknamed by what you presume from the eyepatch that covers over his left eye. A repeat customer to the casino you perform for, a gambler with a very long streak of luck, and a penchant for getting into fights. You’ve heard he was banned from multiple casinos around Madripoor- due to his ability to win just about any and every game of chance, rumors say that he earned hundreds and thousands of earnings from his wins. Other rumors say it’s due to his other talent at throwing punches. 

No one knows his story, but then again- that was true for everyone in Madripoor.

He was famous for appearing as a gentleman, but underneath the classy suit, he was a scoundrel. 

You slowly lowered the glass from your lips, struck by his looks. Dark brown locks slicked back, and neatly trimmed mutton chops, giving him a more classy appearance. One of the guards of the casino once told you that he saw him first as a cage fighter, back when Patch first came to the city- and looked more like an wild, untamed animal, nothing like he does now. 

Your casino hasn’t thrown him out yet. This isn’t the first- nor will it be the last time he has approached you. All charm and smiles that you couldn’t help feel weak in the knees from. 

“Looked wonderful up there tonight, darling.” His voice was deep and low, the sound shooting up your spine. He stepped closer, a hand reaching out to rest on your hip. “- As always, of course.” His smile grew. 

His demeanor always held a certain intimidation, like he was posing a challenge to everyone in the room. He stood over you, looking down at you like you were prey, but you could see a glimmer in his eye- something familiar. 

A warm feeling pooled in your tummy at the way his hand softly caressed your hip. For a moment, you leaned in, getting yourself lost in the green of his eye. Reason struck you, and you stepped back, removing his hand from your hip and curling yours around his hand, feeling the warmth from him.

“Thank you.” You tilted your head, flashing your practiced smile, you give to anyone who comes to compliment you on the entertainment you provide. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“I certainly did.” He hums, his smile fading into something more sincere, looking you up and down, and your heart flutters when he looks back at you again. He leaned down, bowing as he brought the back of your hand to his lips, pressing them gently to the skin and looking up at you- a lingering pause, before standing up. A cocky smirk returned on his face, “If you’re looking for company tonight, you know where to find me. Sweetheart.” 

He let go of your hand, bringing it over to tip your chin up, his eye grazed over your neck. He gave you a wink, before walking away. 

You didn’t even realize you had been holding your breath the entire interaction. You watched him walk to the other end of the bar. Finally letting it out and tearing your eyes away to face the counter. 

Your friend was looking at you knowingly, raising a brow.

“Shush.” 

“I didn’t say anything!” She exclaims, holding her hands up defensively. “I saw how you were looking at him, though….”

“He was just complimenting me. I get multiple people who come up and do that every night.” You argue. 

“Whatever.” She says, “Just be careful. You know that guy has a reputation.” 

You shook your head, looking away to laugh her off. “There’s nothing to be careful about because there’s nothing happening.”

“Woah hold on-” Her hand reached out, stopping you from looking at her again. “You got a major hickey.”

“What?” You blinked in surprise. She laughs, 

“So much for nothing happening.” She smirks, removing her hand. You brought your own hand to touch where the so-called hickey was, a small panic hitting you. You were so sure you covered everything with makeup this morning! How could you miss it?

You glanced over to where Patch was sitting on the other end of the bar. He was watching you with a cocky expression, and toasted the glass of whiskey the other bartender had served him towards you, before taking a long swig- not breaking away his stare. 

You looked away, embarrassment creeping up your spine. You knew you shouldn’t be embarrassed- but the way Patch was staring at you, it made your thoughts run wild- and your thighs press together. 

You went to finish your drink off, so you could head back to your room upstairs- when a familiar voice sent dread through you, nausea bubbling in your stomach. 

You forced a smile, and turned around to give a semi-flirty look to your boss- the head of the casino.

Michael Karas, an older, filthy rich gentleman who hits on you every chance he’s got, and does whatever he can to parade you around under his arm and by his side. He was a known grade A pervert- all the girls who work under him do anything to minimize contact with him. He typically gets bored with one, moves on to another- but unfortunately for you, he has clocked in on you since you first came a year ago and hasn’t let go since. 

The man harasses you every night. You’ve been forced to get dinner with him, drinks, go to premiers and more. You gag at the gossip magazines in stores that imply you’re in a relationship with him. He’s repulsive, disrespectful, and just plain weird.

However, he is your boss, and one of the most powerful people in Madripoor. You tried to completely turn him down once, and was told that you would “disappear” if you ever refused him again. So you do whatever you can to remain at a professional, platonic level with him. Maintaining excuse after excuse as to why you couldn’t be with him. You acted like it was a fun little game- for him. Felt like survival for you.

So far it has worked- but lately Micheal has been coming on to you more. Being touchy and more demanding.  

You’re not sure how much longer you can push him away.

“Gorgeous!” He smiles as he walks to the bar counter where you sat, his arms open for you as he approaches. Surrounded by multiple men in security suits. You stood up to give him a polite hug, but he pulled you tighter to him, and gave you a wet kiss on the cheek. 

You attempted to hide the look of disgust on your face. Pulling away, you grabbed your drink and held it between you both, at least something to keep him a few inches away from your personal space. You brought your hand up to where the supposed hickey was located- hoping that Michael doesn’t notice that or your strange body language. 

“Your voice is as angelic as ever my dear.” He purrs and you let out a small laugh.

“Thank you Micheal.” You crossed your arms, and his arm slinked around your waist pulling you close. 

“Say, why don’t you come finish your drink with me? Hm?” His hand came up to boop your nose, which made you have to struggle to hide your cringe from him. 

“Uh…I…” You shook your head, struggling to find an excuse. “I’m really tired tonight, Micheal.” 

“Oh dear- You’re tired every night.” He moves to stand in front of you. “It’s not like it’s work to be with me. I’ll take care of you. Haven’t I already?” 

He flashes you a smile and you want to puke. 

“I just don’t feel good.” 

He frowns, tipping his chin up to look down at you. Letting go he steps back, his hands up in surrender, with a dry tone. “Hm, alright. God forbid I would want to catch something.” 

A smile of relief came across you and you nodded. “Exactly, I know you work so hard honey- That’s why it’s not a good time.” You squeezed his arm reassuringly. 

“Yeah, right.” He looks at you, tongue in cheek. You leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek, turning to walk away- when his hand came down on your ass making you yelp. “Get some rest sweetcheeks because tomorrow night- You ain’t getting out of dinner with me.” 

You would have turned around and given him a piece of your mind, to lecture him- it didn’t matter who he was; he didn’t have a right to do that.

However, someone else beat you to it 

“Hey bub.” 

Patch was across the bar in a flash. Michael could barely react before he was met with Patch fist to his face, knocking him clean to the ground. 

One of the guards grabbed you and pulled you away causing you to stumble, while the others went after Patch, tackling him, landing punches across his face and stomach- only he didn’t seem affected. The scene went into chaos, as you watched your boss attempt to pick himself up from the ground, holding his jaw. Patch broke loose from three guards who were attempting to pin him to the counter and landed yet another punch to your boss, knocking him out as he fell to the ground. 

You don’t condone violence, however, this was extremely satisfying to witness.

Before you could do or say anything, the same guard dragged you away from the bar, out into the showroom, where he escorted you to the halls, where he left you to rejoin his brethren in an attempt to take down the one-eyed gentleman in the white suit. 

You stood there awkwardly, a little unsure of what to do. You heard sounds of clashing, disruption coming from the room- while party-goers walk past you with strange looks on their face, attempting to peer in. You give them an awkward smile, before turning to find another bar in the casino.

You really needed another drink.

After successfully getting one, you finally went back to your room. You dragged your feet, mind wandering back to Patch, and wondering if he got out okay. 

You reached the door to the penthouse you live in, amazing view, nice furniture. It’s cozy- maybe not exactly your style, but since you don’t have to pay rent, you couldn’t complain. Inserting your key card into the door, and walking into the darkness of your place. 

Except the light coming off a lamp in the corner of the living room drew your attention. 

There sat Patch on one of the chairs that adorned your living room. Leaning back with his legs spread and a glass of whiskey in hand. He smirked at your surprised expression. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” 

“Logan!” You hissed quietly under your breath, closing the door behind you and making sure it’s locked. He tilted his head, a false expression of confusion on his face. 

“What?” 

“You can’t just come in here like that- what if I was with somebody?” You walked towards him in the living room with your hands on your hips. 

“I would’ve taken care of it.” He says, turning to sip his whiskey before carefully setting it on the table next to him, atop a coaster. 

“Like you took care of Michael?”

He glanced up at you and smirked. Standing up, he walked over to you. You sighed, your hands reaching for the lapel of his coat. “You okay?” You ask, worry crosses your expression.

“Love when you worry about me.” He grins. “You know there ain’t no reason to.”

“Maybe…” You look down, frowning at the speckles of blood on his coat. He noticed what you were looking at, and shed it off, tossing it to the side and leaving him in slacks, a button-up dress shirt, and suspenders. “That’s better.” You hummed, your fingers looping under the suspenders and playfully snapping them against his chest. 

“Ow.” He mocks, and smiled down at you. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, your noses bumping against each other, as he held his lips inches away from yours.

“Not so tough, are you?” You whispered. 

“Against you? Definitely not.” He mumbles, his lips brushing over yours. “You okay?” 

“M’fine.” You nodded. He pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips, then your cheek, then the tip of your nose. You shut your eyes, savoring the feeling of his lips over your skin. His hands gripped your hips and pulled you against him.  “You’re going to get us caught flying off the handle like that-”

“Good.” He mumbles, continuing to shower your face, down to your neck, with kisses, making sure his lips touch every inch of your skin. “Tired of pretending like you ain’t mine.”

You heard a change of his tone, the growl of his voice when he said “mine” and it sent goosebumps down your arms. 

You’re not sure how this thing started between you and Logan- or “Patch”. He showed up, and swept you off your feet. Due to your “relationship” with your boss, or lack thereof, you and Logan have snuck around. It was fooling around initially- or so you thought. The feelings that have grown for the man known as Patch suddenly appeared just as quickly as he had.

Logan hated Micheal for more reasons than one- but for your own safety he dealt with it. He could’ve killed him, the bastard deserves it more than most people lives Logan had ended. However, with his own mission- it would cause some serious problems. Now, however…

It was fun initially, pretending not to know each other during the day, but by night…

However, Logan’s grown tired of that game. Tired of watching you from the distance- wishing he could hold you, have you sit in his lap during his sessions of gambling, and cuss out any fucker think he’s worth his salt to even look at you. 

“The bastards, lucky I didn’t chop his head off the moment he touched you.” He murmurs as he presses a kiss to your jaw. You tipped your head back, giving him purchase to your neck, your lips parting as you leaned into his kisses. “I’m gonna kill him, then he can���t ever fucking touch ya again-” 

“Logan-” You stopped him, and he looked at you with a quirked brow. “Not funny.” 

“I wasn’t joking.” He looked down at you. The expression in his eye sent chills down your back, and excitement. “I would have killed him tonight if it weren’t for his little team of babysitters.” 

“Lo.” You repeat his name, “He’s an asshole, I agree but killing him? You’re going to get yourself killed instead.” 

Sure, would Michael being gone be a weight off your - and likely hundreds of other shoulders? Yes. Aside from not wanting to condone murder… He is a well-known figure in this city. If Logan did anything and it was traced back to him… Healing factor or no, you couldn’t bear the idea of him getting hurt. 

“Can’t die, baby. You know that.” His hands climbed up to cup your face gently. “I’m getting sick of not being able to show you off. Everyone needs to know you’re mine.” 

You smiled, turning to kiss the palm of his hand. “I know, isn’t that enough?” 

His expression softened, and he leaned forward to capture you in a real kiss. His hands began to explore your body. Your lips moved over each other, possessive and passionate. He pushed you back, pushing you against the wall. 

“You act like you don’t condone what I do, but you forget I can hear your heartbeat baby.” He mutters between passionate smooches. “And I can tell when you start feeling all needy. Turned you on when you watched me make him pay for touching you, didn’t it?”

“Maybe…” You muttered under your breath. He chuckled, nipping your bottom lip, before turning his attention to your neck. Slowly he lowered himself down to his knees, pressing a trail of kisses down your center, kissing your belly through your dress as he looked up at you. One of his hands pressed to your lower back, while the other slipped past the slit of your dress, making contact with your skin. 

He smirked at the shiver that ran through you, as he brushed his hand over your thigh, before cupping for your ass, his fingers going underneath the hem of your panties. He continued pressing kisses to you through your dress while feeling you up. 

“You’re so damn beautiful.” He murmurs against the fabric of your dress. “Can you blame me for wanting to show you off?” 

“Mm.” You giggle. “I can’t risk you getting hurt Lo. I know you can’t die, but Micheal…He knows people. He gets any idea and he’ll figure out how to get you killed.” 

“Not if I get him first.” He suggests again. “He’s become a fucking annoyance with my own problems anyway.” 

Logan hasn’t told you exactly why he was here in Madripoor, where he came from, what he was even doing. Claims he’ll tell you one day, when it’s safe for you to know. You’re not sure if he’s telling the truth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when he worships you the way he does. 

His hand under your dress began tugging your panties down to your ankles. He helped you step out of them while pocketing them. He then helped you take off your heels before encouraging you to put one leg over his shoulder. 

Pressing a kiss to the top of your foot, then your ankle, he worked his way up until he was nipping the skin of your inner thigh. He pressed his lips into the crease of where your thigh met your core, licking the skin there, before turning his head to press a teasing kiss to your clit. You buried your hand into his hair, closing your eyes and tipping your head back against the wall, melting the moment his tongue made contact with your cunt. 

He lapped at you like a man dying of thirst, staring up at you to watch your every reaction. His hands supported you on your shaky legs as he buried himself in your folds. Licking every inch of you, before dipping his tongue into your hole. Quiet whimpers escaped you as you started to grind your hips over him.

“Lo…” You gasped, “Don’t stop-” 

“Wouldn’t dream of ever doing that princess-” He mumbles, eyes growing heavy as he became drunk off your essence.

Your fingers dug into his scalp painfully, and you heard him moan. His lips wrapped around your swollen clit and began sucking, his tongue swirling nonsensical shapes against the bud. He brought a hand to your core, a finger teasing your entrance before he buried it inside you. Your hips thrust forward, grinding over him as he brings you to your peak, lapping up every ounce of your ecstasy as you cry out his name, shaking before him. 

He stood up, picking you up with his hands on your ass, lips crashing onto yours before you could even catch your breath.. You could taste yourself on his tongue and his lips. 

“See how good you taste, princess?” He mumbles against you. You wrapped your legs around his hips, and he carried you back to your bedroom.  

The neon lights of buildings that towered over the casino hotel shone through your window. Shades of red highlighted Logan's face, as your hands caressed him. 

He dropped you onto the bed, before flipping you onto your belly- leaning over you and pressing open-mouth kisses against your neck and shoulders, before his teeth found the zipper of your dress, and tugged it downwards. He pulled the fabric apart, continuing to kiss your back while he began to undress himself. Pulling off the suspenders, he worked the buttons of his shirt and tossed it aside. 

You were flipped back onto your back as he turned his attention back to undressing you. He lifted the hem of your dress up, as you helped him pull it off and get dropped to the side of the bed. 

He stood up, and you sat up with him, eagerly undoing his belt and tugging his pants down until they fell to his ankles, along with his boxers. 

Your mouth watered at the sight of his erect cock. You reached your hand out to press against his belly, admiring the muscles that flexed from his touch. Tracing downwards until you grabbed the base of his cock. You looked up at him for permission.

He smirked. “Go ahead, sweetheart, get a little taste.” 

You smiled at his words, learning forward to dip your tongue into the slit of his tip. You swirled your tongue around his tip, then took it between your lips. 

You heard a harsh breath escape him as he tilted his hips forward, pushing himself deeper into your mouth, his hand going into your hair. 

“Pretty girl…” He mutters. “I was thinking about this when I watched you sing tonight. Thinking about how those pretty lips making those pretty sounds looked on my cock.” 

A moan escaped you, and he pulled out. His hands gently pushed you back down onto the bed, and flipped you once again onto your belly, his arm wrapped around your waist to push you further up on the bed as he clambered after you, the mattress creaking under his weight.

He pushed your face into the plush duvet, angling your hips up. His cock rested against your cunt and you pushed back onto him, wiggling your hips. 

A chuckle escaped him, his hand pressed firmly into your back. “I know you want it baby, I got you.” he coos.

He took his shaft in hand, pushing himself through your folds. He coated himself with your arousal, teasing your hole by pushing his tip in and out of you, until you were whining, full of complaints that made him smirk.

“Logan!” You whimpered, arching your back and spreading your thighs further apart. Your hands gripped the sheets of your bed. 

“That’s what I like to see, beautiful.” He hums as he finally pushes himself inside you. “Pretty pussy’s been begging for me all night hasn’t she?”

He was slow, burying every inch into your pussy as if he was making sure you’d memorized every detail of his cock molding you inside. A deep moan escaped you. 

“There we go…” He purrs, “Big stretch, yeah?” 

You couldn’t even answer. Becoming mindless at the feeling of his cock thrusting into you. Your fingers curled into the sheets as you began mindlessly rocking your hips back onto him.

He settled one hand on your hip, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin, and the other hand on his hip. He slowly pulled out, and back in- creating a steady pace as he watched his cock push into you. He listened to your breathy whimpers, smirking at the way your pussy clenched around him every time he buries himself to the hilt. 

He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back as his hips became flushed against your ass. A hand snaked underneath you, first stopping to press circles into your nipple, before climbing up to wrap around your neck. He gently squeezed you, delivering a hard thrust just to listen to you cry out.

“Love your voice darling, and your little songs- but fuck do I love hearing those sounds more.”

You tipped your head back, exposing your neck to him. He leaned down, sucking at your skin.

“Care- Careful-” You breathed, becoming semi-aware again. “You already left one mark.” 

“I know.” You could hear the arrogance in his voice. “I told you, sweetheart-” 

His steady thrusts began to go faster, his legs kicked yours farther apart. His free hand pushed down on your waist, keeping your back arched against him. 

“I’m done hiding the fact that you’re mine.” He growls. “Don’t give a shit what that snot-nosed rich boy gotta say about it. So don’t bother being quiet, everyone is going to know tomorrow who you belong to.” 

You cried out as his gentle thrusts became brutal, his grip on you becoming tighter as he grunted. The bed shook with his movements. He turned his head, pressing his lips against your cheek- a gentle reminder of his love for you. 

There was a feeling stirring in the pit of your belly, but before you could focus. His arms came around you, pulling you up onto your knees. One arm wrapped around your waist- your arms pinned at your side, while his other arm wrapped around your neck in a headlock. He continued thrusting up into you, hitting the spot that made you a ragdoll against him.

“C’mon, darling- The neighbors can’t hear you.” He says through gritted teeth. You were rendered speechless- until his hand reached and found your clit and began rubbing firm circles that made your body spasm against him. 

“Oh-!” You cried out. You reached up to bury your nails into his arm that held you in a headlock. “Lo- Patch!” You nearly screamed Logan's name, only to remember that if he wants people to know you belong to him; you have to use his alias. 

You heard him snort through heavy pants. “Good girl-” He grunts. 

“Patch- Please!” You whimpered, 

“Cum for me princess-” He purrs. 

Obeying his words, you came for the second time while he fucked you through it. Your body shook against him, and he let you out of the headlock. You fell back onto the mattress, your body limp and shaking with aftershocks of your orgasm.

His hands grabbed your hips- and he continued fucking into you and not slowing down. You could tell by his breathy pants and the way his thrusts turned sloppy, that he was close- and you were already approaching your third orgasm of the night. Your limbs too weak at this point to do anything, so your laid there as he had his way with you- fucking into you at an incredibly messy pace- your mouth hung open and you nearly started to drool- becoming dumb from his cock. 

He leaned forward, his head resting on your shoulder and he rutted into you, burying himself completely before a harsh grunt of your name escaped him- and you felt the warm feeling of his cum filling you up inside. A loud snikt! was heard, and you opened your eyes to see his fist buried into your mattress. Your sheets were going to need to be replaced now- not that you really minded.

 Breathy moans filled your ear, sending you off once more into your own pleasure while he continues small ruts into you, making sure you’re filled to the brim with him. 

Once finished, he gently pulled out of you, collapsing at your side with a deep groan. 

“Fuck.” He hissed. His hand lazily went to your back, softly stroking it with his knuckles. “You good, baby?” 

“Mm.” You could barely mutter, turning your head to face him with sleepy eyes and a smile. You managed a tired nod. 

“That’s my girl.” 

He took a deep breath and sat up. “Let's get you cleaned up.” 

“No.” You muttered, lazily reaching out to stop him. “Leave it.” 

A devious grin grew on his face, He leaned back with one arm crossed behind his head. Opening the other for you to curl into his side. ”Dirty girl.” he hums under his breath, before turning to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Logan?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“If…I’m yours, that means you’re mine too, right?” 

Butterflies stirred in his stomach, he looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m all yours.”

[devlunar]

An oil painting I made in one of my classes. It's based on the Claude Monet painting Woman with a Parasol (or Madame Monet and Her Son).

[plumbobem]

JARDIN DES NYMPHÉAS | a wedding lot download

A while ago I got an anon asking about this lot. Here it is! It's named after the water lillies on the pond and Monet's series of paintings Nymphéas. [DOWNLOAD] [SIMBLR.CC]

This is completely base game compatible. To have your wedding, simply make your sims stand under the pergola and get married using interactions :)

In this lot you have restrooms, a buffet table and stereo for all your partying needs! You can place a wedding cake too if you want to have a cake cutting moment.

I wanted to make this with as little CC as possible. All 12 items used are included in the .zip inside the folder Required CC

Included library and (optional) Sims3Pack files

This 40x40 lot is listed as a No Visitors Allowed community lot and was built in Sunset Valley at 2500 Pinochle Point. But it can be placed in any world you like!

all due credits to the cc creators. Edit this and modify this to your heart's content, but please do not claim this as your own and/or reupload. DO NOT put this behind a paywall in any circumstances, adfly or patreon.

[mrhandlemam]

Max With a Parasol

Based off the Claude Monet painting by the name of Woman with a Parasol

Here is the painting it's based off of. I'm very proud of my fanart.

[armoricaroyalty]

Irreplaceable Spring - landscapes by @lilblueorchid

When I saw these paintings on my dash, I immediately wanted them in my game. The arist (Claire Sun, @lilblueorchid) graciously gave me permission to convert them to the sims, and 4,000 years later here we are!

Base game compatible

24 swatches: 6 paintings in 4 different frames (gold, silver, bronze, and black)

This artwork is used non-commercially and with permission from the artist. Please do not redistribute or monetize in any way.

DOWNLOAD HERE (no ads, sfs)

[bogkeep]

re: People Keep Telling Me They Have A Definitive Definition Of Art [looks inside. it's a vibes based personal metric] phenomenon

like i think having a vibes based personal definition of what is art To You is super fine. i don't expect other people to have a degree or an in-depth interest in art history or art philosophy. *i* am pedantic about it because *i* have an art history degree that's useless for pretty much everything else. i just have a passion for this topic! i think it's interesting and it's important to me and my understanding of artistic craft! it's a little insulting when people think they can outwit me with some clever gotcha they just thought up when they don't even have a basic understanding of art history like at all but. such is life.

like, i Get what people mean when they say "modern art". i know they're thinking about random paint splatters on a canvas or a banana taped to a wall. i am absolutely being extra pedantic when i point out that "modern art" is an extremely vague term that can mean anything. there's *multiple* art movements that are considered modernist AND post-modernist that came to be after the invention of photography. "modern art" as such encompasses well loved artists such as vincent van gogh or claude monet, as well as pablo picasso or mark rothko. at what point of abstraction does art become Too Ugly And Overrated to appreciate? is there a way to create abstract art that *would* be aesthetically pleasing to you?

there are also multiple movements that are either deliberately or incidentally questioning, What Is Art? DADA is the most famous movement (gestures at duchamp's fountain), and from what i remember, DADA didn't necessarily classify *itself* as an art movement. they were creating anti art/anti aesthetic. and yet! we still learn about dadaism in art history classes. andy warhol and his pop art soup cans also created controversy around Is This Real Art Or What. and on the flipside, does art noveau darling alfons mucha's commercial work, such as advertisements for products, count as Real Art? these are all very famous well known art guys! where do we draw the line!!

and at the same time, people are still creating realistic paintings that look just like the kind of art people think Real Art should be. contemporary art can look like *anything* !!! you want Real Art to look like it took a lot of skill and work? well, how do you Know? How Can You Tell. the job of a ballet dancer is to make years of bone crushing hard work look effortless.

anyway this rabbit hole goes on forever and ever and ever there is so much art out there. you can define it however you want but wherever you draw the line is gonna exclude a lot of things!

[hrrtshape]

miss emma !! what was your fav thing from ur recent dr visit ? 🩰

what was miss emma’s favourite thing? oooo….let’s go !!!

late november. paris. technically a school trip, but let’s be honest, no one was treating it like one. st. lazarus. either in a moment of rare magnanimity or a complete lapse in judgement, decided to shuttle the seniors off to france under the guise of scholarly enrichment. we were meant to be studying art, culture, history. and we did. but we also did a lot of other things.

first, the logistics: the school, inexplicably, booked us into the ritz. like, *THE* ritz. as if we were 1920s debutantes instead of sleep-deprived teenagers with questionable decision-making skills. me and lily rose roomed together, which meant our suite very quickly became home base. every night, we’d fling ourselves onto the beds, exhausted but wired, dissecting the day in between bites of something expensive and chocolate-drenched. the ceilings were high. the curtains billowed dramatically. it was the kind of place where nothing unimportant could possibly happen.

on our first night, we went to dinner at le relais de l’entrecôte because, you know, tradition. steak-frites and that sauce no one can ever replicate. we sat in a loud, warm corner of the restaurant, still delirious from travel, half-shouting over each other in excitement. someone knocked over a glass of wine. someone else declared this the *best night ever*, which, admittedly, we say at least twice a week. but still. it felt like it.

our first full day was when the school still pretended to exert control. we went to the musée d’orsay in the morning, which, to be fair, was breathtaking. i stood in front of a monet for so long that even the tour guide looked concerned. the whole place felt alive in a way i wasn’t prepared for. like the paintings were watching *us*.

then, lunch at café de flore, because obviously. it wasn’t good at all (saying as a french person in my better cr ) croque monsieurs, espressos, an unnecessary amount of cigarettes. it was all very existentialist-coded, very we are young and in paris, take our photo immediately

then, in an act of truly outstanding negligence, the school gave us a free day on day 4. naturally, a few overzealous classmates orchestrated a trip to la vallée village. it was equal parts stupid and exhilarating. bundled up in coats, wind whipping through our hair, dashing between boutiques like our lives depended on it. coryo bought me a silver heartshaped necklace, which he fastened around my neck with the kind of casual certainty that made my brain short-circuit. no hesitation. just a decision, made and executed. i spent the rest of the day touching it absentmindedly, as if to confirm it was real.

that night, we dressed up and went to lapérouse for dinner. candlelit, gilded walls, the kind of place where the air itself feels expensive. we lingered over duck confit and crème brûlée, talking about nothing and everything. at some point, we took turns sneaking sips from a bottle of wine that none of us were technically supposed to have. after, we walked along the seine, laughing too loudly, spinning under streetlights like we were in some forgotten scene from a godard film.

somewhere in between all of this, me and lily rose went to galeries lafayette and bought matching chanel keychains. it was impulsive, unnecessary, and immediately felt like the most important thing we’d ever owned. the saleswoman found us vaguely amusing. we were fine with that.

angelina was another highlight. we chain-smoked on the way there and sipped hot chocolate so rich it felt obscene. we sat there until 11am. letting the world move around us. we felt decadent. we felt untouchable. in reality, we were all irresponsible rich teenagers !!!!

and then, of course, there were the ritz nights. technically, we were meant to stay in our rooms, but technically, no one expected us to. me and coryo found excuses to cross the halls to each other’s rooms.

so . yeah. that trip. wow . IM TALKING MORE ABOUT THIS . like what i did daily !! just !!! have to organise these frantic 3 month thoughts

[tofupixel]

With your way of thinking, literally 90% of historical art is just plagiarizm because most major art movements are based around a style (an "artstyle" if you will). Is everyone who paints impressionism plagiarizing Claude Monet? Everyone who's doing cubism suddenly needs to pay royalties to Picasso? And what about realism? Make it make sense

you don’t understand my way of thinking at all obviously lol

and btw all those artists still had their own unique styles within the movement so your argument doesn’t even hold up

[samkerrworshipper]

the party | alexia putellas x reader

songfic based off of the song the party & the after party by the weeknd

warnings: cunnilingus, smut, minors dni 18+

With your Louis V. bag, tats on your arms

High heel shoes, make you six feet tall

Everybody wants you, you can have them all

It would be a crime to not look at her. Standing tall, her Louis Vuitton bag slung over her shoulder, her skimpy black dress that left nothing to the imagination, her tattoos that peaked over her shoulders and down her arms, her red backed Louboutin heels that made her look so irresistible and so fucking tall, accentuating her long legs and every single muscles and vein that ran along them. Your eyes were drawn to her from the other side of the room, completely pinned to the figure standing in front of you. She was insatiable, everybody in the room wanted her and yet her eyes were caught on your own, her long legs slowly making their way towards you and your seat at the bar.

In a club full of people, music and noise she silenced it all, made you feel like the both of you were the only people in the world, it was addictive, like a party drug. You almost choked on your sip of your martini as she approached you, and took a seat beside you on one of the barstools, ordering a drink from the bartender before addressing you.

“It’s rude to stare, tesoro.”

You blinked, your eyes darting to the glass in your hands.

“Lo siento.” I’m sorry

There was something about this woman that made you feel like you were on fire, and she was the only thing that could extinguish you.

“Don’t apologise, I don’t mind, what’s a girl like you doing in here anyways?”

The implication strung in her voice made you feel so shy, so small in a way you could never explain.

“Just looking for some fun I guess, how about you?”

You finally found the confidence to glance back up at her eyes, it was a rewarding sight, her deep hazel eyes locked onto your body, searching you up and down like you were a monet painting.

“Looking to have some fun on my night off.”

Her eyes were tantalising, dangerously dark and sinful, the hazel circling around her pupil into a tie dye mix of dark and light browns.

“How’s that going?”

It was a stupid question, but you felt like you were under a microscope, like a diamond under immense pressure and it was stressing you out, making you second guess everything. The mystery woman just seemed amused though.

“Could be going better, I’ve got a drink though, that’s one way to start it.”

She pulled her glass of what appeared to be whiskey on the rocks up, and you met her glass, clinking them together, a small smile gracing your lips.

“What’s your name sweetheart?”

The term of endearment sent shocks down your spine, little jolts of shivers that you didn’t even attempt to put a stop to.

“Y/n Y/l/n, how about you?”

Her eyes pierced your own from their position sitting just above your martini glass, peering over the rim at her figure, slowly taking in her figure that didn’t leave much of her body to your imagination, so much skin on show.

“Not important.”

Her voice was dismissive, and if you really cared you would push it, but you simply didn’t, so you just nodded your head.

“Y/n, that’s very pretty, suits the pretty face.”

You couldn’t help but blush a little bit at the flattery, lifting your martini glass to cover your mouth and the bright smile that you knew was spreading across your facial features.

“You’re a charmer, c’mon, give me a name to put to the face.”

She smirked at you, devilishly, like there was so much intention behind her eyes and mouth, intentions that you couldn’t even attempt to try and unearth.

“I think beautiful things should be appreciated, if you're really desperate you can call me Ale.”

You couldn’t help but feel the butterflies begin to crowd in your stomach, the heat rising up your neck and to your face at the outward compliments from your companion.

“You're very forward, most girls sitting at a bar would be a little bit intimidated.”

The woman’s eyes stayed pinned to your own, neither of you breaking the eye contact that made you feel so vulnerable and naked, like you were under a microscope in front of her.

“You’re not most girls though, are you?”

You bit your lip, her intentions were so clear and so blurred at the same time.

“You didn’t come and sit with me because I look like most girls.”

The woman snorted, setting her empty glass down on the bar.

“I’m going to the bathroom, the door with number 3 above it.”

Girl, I got your bag, I got it all

Hold your drink, baby, don't you fall

Be there in a minute, baby, just one call

You don't gotta ask me

Girl, pick up them shoes, I'll race your ass up all them stairs

She picked up her bag, her heels clicking under the floor beneath her as she strutted towards the stairs at the end of the bar, her hands reaching down to pull her frighteningly big heels so she could climb the stairs. You watched her ass and thighs move, it almost felt like she was putting a show on for you as she slowly progressed up the stairs.

You took a final swig from your glass, holding onto it and gripping down on the glass as you watched her finally ascend the stairs and out of your sight. You waited a minute or so, clutching onto your glass before setting it down and picking up your own belongings and making your way towards the stairs.

You didn’t take your time like the mystery woman, you climbed the staircase like it was a mountain you had to make it to the top of, completely relieved when you finally got to the top. It was a simple corridor in front of you, with numbered bathrooms, one to ten. You made your way down the hallway slowly, your eyes pinned to every door you passed until you made it to door number three. You felt like you were in a game show, or escape room, looking at the different doors and almost expecting something to pop out of one of them.

The surprise never came, so you reached for the door knob cautiously, testing the handle to see whether or not it was locked and quickly learning it was not. You took a deep breath, before twisting the door open and quickly shutting it behind you as you walked into the stall, making sure to lock the door behind you.

Before you even began to take in your surroundings the woman had pounced on you, her lips attaching to your own allowing you to taste the whiskey and spearmint on her tongue. It was a welcome flavour, overloading your taste buds which went into shock from the sudden contact and lust that was invading your system.

“Esta Bien?” Is this okay?

You nodded into her mouth, her tongue brushing against the roof of your mouth and pushing against the skin and tissue, exploring your mouth and lips with vigour.

“Si.” yes

The woman smirked into your mouth, continuing her bruising attack on your lips, but her hands falling to your hips and the exposed skin in between where your jeans separated from your cropped corset top. It was more like a bra, the only difference was the small chunk of material below the bra line. Her hands danced up and down your sides and you couldn’t help the little moan that left your lips as her hands brushed over the tops of your breasts and nipples.

“So desperate already, I could tell just how needy you were in that bar, desperate for some attention hm?”

You moaned openly into the woman’s mouth, your hips grinding upwards searching for some kind of contact or relief. The woman’s hand made its way to your waist though, pushing you back against the bathroom door.

“No, tomas lo que obtienes.” No, you take what you get

Her hand stayed pinned to your waist, her lips pressing against your own sinfully, moving rhythmically and nipping at your bottom lip as her teeth caught it in hers.

“Ale, please, need more.”

She was a woman that you knew absolutely nothing about, and normally that would make you uncomfortable, but for some reason it only spurred your sexual desire on, it was treacherous how horny your felt, your stomach and pussy clenching in tow as this woman’s lips moved down to your jawline, sucking on the skin.

“Is your pussy dripping for me, is it soaking through your panties?”

You nodded quickly against the older woman’s mouth, your head trapped by the grip that her lips and mouth had on your neck and chin.

You moaned openly when she dropped to her knees. Normally you’d be worried about the cleanliness of a club bathroom floor, but your whole brain was clouded with sex and that was enough for any kind of worry to leave you brain.

I understand, your body wants it

I know your thoughts, of you ‘bout it, ‘bout it

You’re a big girl, and it’s your world

And I’ma let you do it how you wanna

Girl, now ride wit it, ride wit it

I know you know, I know you wanna (ride) wit it

Don’t be shy wit it, I’ll supply wit it

I got you, girl, oh, I got it girl

You nodded at the woman when she looked up at you with an eyebrow cocked as her fingers looped into the belt of your jeans, silently asking for permission. When you nodded at her quickly she smirked, reaching for the clasp and unbelting it insanely quickly and letting it fall to the floor. Next her hands found the zipper of your jeans, tugging it down quickly and then popping the button before tugging the jeans down to join your belt. You stepped out of them and groaned a little bit as your eyes came into contact with the growing wet spot on the front of your panties, your arousal beginning to stick to the insides of your thighs.

“Oh bebita, is this all for me?”

You nodded your head once again, your head and back arching against the door as Ale’s fingers scooped underneath the elastic band of the thong you were wearing, snapping it twice against your hips, eliciting a positively filthy guttural moan that ranged from your core to your lips.

“God your so desperate, you going to ride my face, going to get off like a horny bitch in the heat and rut yourself against my face?”

It was pure filth falling from the older woman's lips as she tugged your panties down your thighs and onto the floor, her eyes latching onto your glistening lips that were directly in front of your face.

The feeling of her tongue darting out to meet your clit was ecstasy, pure pleasure as she dove into your folds, her tongue exploring the open sex right in front of her.

It was as her tongue found your open hole that you angled your hips directly above Ale, humping her face and beginning to grind your hips up and down her mouth and nose.

You half expected her to stop you, her dom persona seemingly controlling your every move, but she didn’t, so you continued to move your hips against her face, her tongue pushing in and out of your whole and your clit rubbing down hard and fast against her nose. The angle that it have you was magnificent and something that you’d never quite experienced. You pulled up for a second, out of fear that you were strangling the woman below you with your thighs, but you were quickly pulled down, your clit brushing down on the tip of her nose, it was fantastic and had you becoming a moaning mess and the coil in your stomach was so close to snapping, and then she refracted.

Her mouth moved from your lips and down to your thighs, sucking and biting down on the soft and milky skin, leaving bright purple marks as a reminder of exactly what she was doing to you. It was equally pleasurable, but not in the way you needed, not in the way you yearned.

“Ale, fuck, please, so close, please just fucking use my pussy, it’s all yours.”

She was so patient with your skin, gently sucking the marks in, your begging didn’t go unnoticed by her though, and once she finished her fourth love bite she nudged her tongue back to your opening, thrusting her flat pad in and out of your hole, generating completely sinful noises from your mouth. Your hands found Ale’s hair, fisting it in between your fingers and in your palms, tugging her up to meet your core and deepen her tongue’s thrusts.

You would have told her you were teetering on the edge, but you were too incoherent due to the amount of pleasure coursing through your body. It only took a few deep thrusts of her tongue and then a brush of your puffy clit against her nose for you to come undone, your whole body tightening and freezing against her warm mouth as you began to gush, your body grinding and your pussy gushing out and squirting all over her face as you spasmed on her lips.

Her hands pulled your thighs over her shoulders, stopping your legs from collapsing out from under you and leaving you to collapse on the floor. She guided you through your aftershocks with gentle kitten licks, sucking up any of the extra liquids that your pleasure cloud had produced.

Only when you’d come down from your high and you’d moved your legs off of her shoulders was when she moved off of her knees, revealing an absolutely soaked face, neck and top of her dress. You couldn’t help but snort a little bit at the appearance of her, a once composed and slightly terrifying woman now covered in your orgasm.

She stood up and before she could even try to say anything your lips were attached to her face, your tongue gently licking at your taste on her skin.

“That was fucking amazing.”

You moved your lips up to her nose and across her cheeks, lapping at any of the left over arousal on her delicate and clear skin.

“You didn’t tell me you were a squirter baby girl, look at my dress, all ruined in your slutty juices.”

You chuckled, a deep chuckle from your chest as you took in Ale, in all of her glory, completely fucked out and you hadn’t even touched her.

We can play all night

It just takes one night

To let me fuckin’ prove

This feelin’ I would give to you

“How about I make it up to you then?”

Your grin spread all the way up your cheeks, revealing your pearly whites to the woman.

“How about I take you back to mine and you can show me exactly how good you can be?”

Your head told you that it was a bad idea to go home with a woman that you’d only met a few minutes ago, but then the thought of going all nigh with this woman, who clearly knew what she was doing ran through your mind.

You began to take her in truly and it was then that something clicked in your brain, that you knew this woman, or you knew her face, and that was when all the puzzle pieces fell into place.

“Fuck me, your Alexia Putellas.”

The woman just smirked, her tongue dangling out between her teeth as she moved towards rhe sink, cleaning herself up a little bit but maintaining eye contact with you the whole time through the mirror.

“I will later, baby, don’t you worry, and it took you a little bit to figure that one out, now, my house? I promise I’ll give you everything you want, baby, all you have to do is ask.”

Ringtone on silent

And if she stops, then I might get violent

No call is worth stoppin’

So, momma, please, stop callin’

You reached down for you bag, and then your phone, recognising a string of texts from your roommate, worried about where you were and normally you would reply, but instead you turned your phone off, shoving it down into the bottom of your handbag and turning back to the Catalan woman, who was now standing directly in front of you, her arm stretched out as an offering.

If you had your wits about you, and not singularly sex on your mind you would have left her arm, left the renowned soccer player hanging, but then again, you definitely didn’t have your wits about you with your post orgasm brain.

So you took her arm, smiling brightly.

“Your house?”

Alexia smirked and nodded, leading you out of the bathroom and back downstairs and out of the club, a smile on both of your faces and the smell of sex radiating from both of you.

[solar-serpent]

🌈Based on your talents, what business should you launch?💰🪙

Hello! I hope everyone is doing great. I'm going through a phase where I started wondering if I wanted to go back to work for an employer, or even if it was worthy after I've acknowledged all my potential and the fact no one would ever pay for the real price of my work. Aquarium era is hitting me harder, and I bet you too are feeling this call to reach financial freedom. We deserve it.

I want to contribute with your awakening.

Please take a deep breath, focus on what's in front of you and pick the picture you feel more attracted to.

Pile I → Pile II

Pile III → Pile IV

🌱Pile I🌱

OMG, pile 1, you are so kind and empathetic that people want to open up to you and ask for your opinion/advice on topics such as recent breakups, petty fights with mom, best friend betrayal drama and so. Even though that's not the main purpose for them going into your store/business. If you weren't an entrepreneur, you could've been an excellent therapist since your serene demeanor and polite speech would make others believe they are speaking to a good friend. You show you care for what you are being told by providing meaningful replies, and I could swear people go crazy over your attentive gaze. Some of you are natural, others are really good actors (no one is to be judged here). Your patience and warm personality real or not sells, people could purchase anything from your business if you are the one assisting, which can be a boomer if you are aiming for leaving someone else in charge and doing the counts behind the scenes, knowing you are one of the best sellers.

You could own a coffee store given how good you are at building spaces where people will gather and feel safe. Not only that, you can create beautiful settings that will make others immerse in a new world like the tea room from a dollhouse or within a Monet painting. You will succeed at making them distance themselves from real world's problems, thus they could be more open to speak about something that feels so far away. To be honest, I don't think everyone that chose this pile would identify with this business idea. For some serving, cooking and simping chai latte over the daily gossips feels like a waste of their potential. You guys are right, another part of group which's artsy in nature is more aligned with fashion, beauty, and textiles. But I swear you all have the potential to manifest large amounts of money in one sale. I didn't have to crack my head open thinking about what type of business could allow that as designing is your strong suit. You are a master when it comes to making colors, fabrics. and whatnot march. A small part of this group loves sweets and how food can make others happy, therefore you could settle down for having a bakery and specializing on wedding cakes. However, some of you are contemplating the idea of running a drift or wedding dress store. For the ones willing to work with the brides, I assure your business will do well. You have the patience of a Greek hero going against the gods' will, so I see you nailing sales that took plenty of your time and energy.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 2🌱

I didn't know "giving a fuck" was a talent until I drew your cards, dear pile 2. You are strong people, you don't care if others start hating you for doing your job. Like 5% of the people who picked this pile dreamed with being a hitman and go ahead guys, you'll do great. Now, a large percent of you have questionable morals, allowing you to work in fields where you can turn corrupted and earn wealth as a politician, lawyer, or even a doctor. I know those are career choices, but the real business for you is owning agencies, institutes, clinics, and funeral homes. I am not even making the latter up. Some of you won't care about the taboo-ish nature of your work. You approach business with level-headedness and practicality, thus if it pays wells as any other job related to humans needs... dealing with the deads is easier than their family but you will still do the job or you will hire someone to do it eventually. Curiously, you are great at making people feel better. You aren't that talkative, but you know how to make others laugh with your silly jokes, pulling weird faces, providing them with food or water and much needed space.

Some of you are radicals and into activism. You have plenty of pent-up anger and aggressiveness inside of you that you will directed at facing opposing forces. You might start a charitable cause and talk people into volunteering. Yeah, I know it won't give you money or not so much, but hear me out! You could own an institute for people with special needs or another for learning languages. There's a high chance you might end up working with foreigners, what gave you that business idea when you thought on how to help them improve their lifestyle. Some of you could be interested in farming or owning a supermarket. You would feel inclined to hire immigrants regardless of the consequences. Actually, what are consequences to you? You don't fucking care. You see people suffering, you help them. There's no other logic in your brain.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 3🌱

Ok, guys, I love how unbothered you are when it comes to your line of work and what people have to say about it. Unlike pile 2, you are not interested in top positions that might lead to corruption, dirty money and living a very intense life. You are the complete opposite, you are humble and like to contribute to the community. You have a great intuition and observation skills, so upon checking your town or the place you want to install your business in, you will know what spot in the market needs to be filled right away. You can also tell what the community's needs are; you are not afraid of getting your hands dirty, so you could feel inclined to run a fish or convenience store. I feel like you want to belong, so not only your business won't cover a necessity, but also will turn into something traditional, even "iconic" for your neighbourhood. Is a music store still a thing? I feel like a small part of this group longs to have one.

You have all what it takes to manifest a long-lasting business. You are highly talented at nurturing and you might see your business like a "baby". It's not just your money source, but something to care about and fight for. Some of you might be interested in running an esoteric shop, where people is going to get their cards read or purchase herbs, incienses, candles, and so on. Mostly, this pile wants to have an unique business or for it to be the sole provider of something. E.g, you might own the only bookstore with coffee services at town. Also, I believe some of you will settle for moving out to a town or the countryside and start a business over there.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 4🌱

Hello, guys! This pile is slightly different from the rest since I feel like going straight to the point and sparing unnecessary details, but I might annoy you as I'm not leaving nothing unsaid. You are known for being busy and most times you seem to be in a hurry. You are always working on something, even in high school your friends knew you were too invested on your studies and earning money than hanging out with people your age. You probably like technology and travelling, so you could own a business like a travel agency (in your country or another), transport or event planning company. In all honesty, you might end up running all three of them. The term "workaholic" does not make justice to what you are, but I will call you a genius. You were born to steal the spotlight by your innovative style at the moment of giving birth to your ideas into the real world. You can mix all your interests together and create a new business that will leave people gawking, like an app who allows users to match with vacation spots instead of people or something like that?

Some of you will rather work with tourists, renting cars, boats, and properties so their basic needs are covered. I don't know how many of you are sporty but you are adamant about turning one of your interests/hobbies in your business. You might run your own indoor rock climbing centre. If you were to ask me for specifications on what's your talent, I would say you are a natural when it comes to businesses and you hold such control over your emotions. You put your sole focus on work, nothing can distract you from achieving your goals. Not even your family, so I can see you making up to your dear ones with expensive gifts or generous check after you missed an important family event again.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.