#but that's just the impression i got personally

[jabberwockypie]

So @lynati is out of town today and tomorrow, working, but she has been living her best life and embracing her desire to be surrounded by toy Breyer horses for the first time in 25 years, and is really just having a great time with it.

Unfortunately, a particular horsie, Hot Cocoa, who she had REALLY wanted sold out last week before she had a chance to get her. She thought she had more time, because some of the previous years' horsies are still in stock from past years.

Horf!

So Hot Cocoa was sold out, and she was very sad, and there were ZERO OF THEM anywhere else on the internet - this one was sold only through the Breyer website, and nobody had listed any on Ebay or Mercari. We set up some saved searches to try to get her later if she came up, probably at a terrible mark-up, but what else can you do?

Anyway, Lynati got a different, extra-fancy horse in the mail yesterday, and he's a very pretty boy with blues and golds and purples.

Lynati didn't have any others in this mold, but she brought him upstairs to show me yesterday when she got him in the mail, and I agreed as this was a very pretty horse and flipped him over because I was admiring how pretty the blue-fading-to-purple effect is, and I go "WOW. My god, they put a lot of effort into sculpting this horse's junk."

The fact this sculptor clearly spent hours and hours on this horse model, including what had to be rather a lot of time on the individual veining on the Horse Dick* is truly kind of impressive, but I also find it extremely funny in contrast with how pearl-clutchy some American Girl doll collectors get about even the implication that people may have had sex or might be naked at some point, ever. (There are a whole bunch of people get weird about the fact dolls like Kaya and Felicity don't come with underpants - because they wouldn't have worn them. In the 18th century. And, let me be clear, their bodies are just tube-shaped stuffed cloth with no anatomical detail whatsoever.)

*Lynati will I'm sure correct me that that is the "sheath" and testicles, but I am not a horse person and I am therefore comfortable referring to it as the horse's dick.

So today, I was relating to my friend @lylilorden my amusement at the contrast between American Girl doll people and the Breyer people with their lovingly-sculpted super-detailed Horse Genitals.

(Quoth Lyli, "and the breyer folks just. "these are ANIMALS and they FUCK"". Yes. Yes they are.)

And I'm looking for a picture of the Special Fancy Horse to show her, and then suddenly, at the bottom of the page on the Breyer website, where I see this:

HOT COCOA IN STOCK, MOTHERFUCKERS

So I call Lynati in a tizzy because this is clearly a Horf-Collecting Emergency, and the horf is now on the way to our house. The day is saved! And I wouldn't have been on the Breyer website if I hadn't been talking to Lyli about the other horse's magnificent . . . endowments.

✨ It's a Christmas miracle! By the power of lovingly-sculpted horse cock. ✨

And now, at the bottom of this post - so people can read the rest of the post and skip it if you want - I have gone downstairs to take a picture of Courcheval's junk, so you can all see what I'm talking about here. (Content warning: plastic toy horse genitalia)

[prettybouquets]

𝓛ove 𝓛anguage 𝓗cs °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝓟.2

this part includes; jayce, viktor, mel and sevika

part one is here -> 𝓟.1

a/n; sorry for the wait, i had lots of stuff going on in my life (work + uni) <3

𝓙ayce;

�� Acts of Service: He loves helping you with anything, from heavy lifting to solving a problem. If he can make your life easier, he’s on it. 𖦹 Quality Time: Jayce enjoys working on projects with you in his workshop/lab or spending lazy evenings just talking while holding him in your arms. He’s happiest when you’re part of his day. 𖦹 Physical Touch: Hugs, shoulder pats, or holding your hand—it’s his way of showing you he’s there. He’s big on playful gestures too, like a quick back pat or a nudge. 𖦹 Words of Affirmation: Jayce is great at hyping you up, saying things like, “You’re incredible” or “C'mon don't say that, sweetheart, you’ve got this.” His compliments are sincere and frequent. 𖦹 Receiving Gifts: He loves giving thoughtful gifts, especially ones tied to inside jokes or shared memories.

Shows off his inventions to impress you, saying, “I totally made this for you.”

Picks you up and spins you around when he’s excited.Brings you flowers and snacks because he can’t decide which you’ll like more.

Insists on walking you home, saying, “You never know who’s out there.” then slides his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

Constantly calls you nicknames like “Star”, “Sweetheart” or “Darling.”

𝓥iktor;

𖦹 Acts of Service: Viktor shows his love by building or fixing things for you. Need a tool, gadget, or solution? He’s already on it before you even ask. 𖦹 Quality Time: He values moments where you can sit quietly together, whether it’s reading, working on your own projects, or simply enjoying each other’s company. 𖦹 Words of Affirmation: Viktor isn’t overly verbose, but when he does speak, his words are deeply meaningful. He’ll say things like, “You inspire me,” in the most heartfelt way. 𖦹 Physical Touch: While he’s more reserved, he shows subtle affection—like brushing his hand against yours or resting his hand on your shoulder for comfort. 𖦹 Receiving Gifts: Small, meaningful tokens like a handmade gadget or a book he thought you’d like are his way of showing care.

Leaves little sticky notes with reminders and doodles for you, that are, surprisingly for a scientist, well drawn.

Fixes anything you complain about, even if it’s minor, like a squeaky chair or a door that fails to stay closed.

Quietly offers his coat when you’re cold without saying a word.

Talks about science but gets flustered when you listen intently and stare into his eyes.

Builds small gadgets just for you, like a mechanical flower.

𝓜el;

𖦹 Acts of Service: Mel is all about making things happen for you. Whether it’s networking, handling logistics, or solving problems, she takes charge so you can shine.

𖦹 Quality Time: She loves intimate, one-on-one moments where you can connect over meaningful conversations, art, or quiet evenings.

𖦹 Words of Affirmation: Mel is articulate and poetic, making every compliment feel like a work of art. She’ll remind you of your worth and potential with grace.

𖦹 Physical Touch: Her touch is subtle but powerful—a hand on your arm, brushing her fingers through your hair, or pulling you into a warm embrace.

𖦹 Receiving Gifts: Mel gives thoughtful, luxurious gifts tailored to your tastes—whether it’s rare jewelry, custom art, or something personal.

Surprises you with luxurious gifts you didn’t know you needed.

Paints your portrait and insists on hanging it in her study.

Runs her fingers through your hair absentmindedly during deep conversations.

Plans elegant dinners just to celebrate small wins and milestones in your life.

Calls you “Darling” or “My dearest” with absolute sincerity.

𝓢evika;

𖦹 Acts of Service: Sevika’s way of showing love is through protection and support. She’ll handle anything that threatens you—physically or otherwise—without hesitation.

𖦹 Quality Time: She enjoys spending time with you in comfortable silence, whether it’s sharing a drink, playing cards, or just relaxing after a long day.

𖦹 Physical Touch: Sevika shows affection through casual gestures—a quick shoulder squeeze, resting her arm around your chair, or giving you her jacket.

𖦹 Words of Affirmation: Her compliments are rare but impactful. When she says, “You did good, for once.” or “I’m surprised to say but I'm proud of you,” you know she means it.

𖦹 Receiving Gifts: She’s not one for fancy things, but if she gives you something—like a knife or a lighter—it’s practical and deeply personal.

Shares her drink with you without asking first if you want any.

Fixes your gear or weapons and grumbles about how you need to “take better care of your stuff.”

Stands between you and anyone she doesn’t trust, no questions asked.

Says things like, “Don’t get used to it,” after doing something kind for you.

Gives you her jacket when it’s cold and acts like it’s no big deal.

© prettybouquets 2024. all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, or repost any work as your own.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴘ ᴜ ᴘ ᴘ ʏ ʟ ᴏ ᴠ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Siscon Damian Wayne x Fem Reader x Yandere Jon Kent Part 1

Headcanon: What if Jon become obsessed with Damian's sister?

Notes: Siscon is a word to refer those brothers and sisters who feel a strong sense of affection or attachment to their sisters. English is not my first language. Hone you enjoy!

Jon was over at the Wayne Manor for a sleepover, all wide-eyed excitement and nervous energy. Damian had begrudgingly invited him (Bruce’s insistence), and the younger boy was already regretting it. Jon was annoying, far too cheerful, and—worst of all—he had no sense of boundaries. Damian had learned to tolerate him, though, mostly because Jon was naive enough not to notice the storm that brewed in the younger Wayne’s mind whenever someone got too close to you.

And Jon got too close right away.

The moment you came downstairs, wearing an oversized hoodie and socks that slid on the hardwood floors, Jon froze. His big blue eyes widened to cartoonish proportions, his cheeks turned a bright shade of red, and for a moment, it looked like his brain had short-circuited.

"Hi," you greeted with a warm smile, ruffling Damian's hair as you walked past. (He hated it, or at least pretended to, judging by the subtle way he leaned into your touch.) "You must be Jon."

Jon stammered something incomprehensible, nodding like an overeager puppy. Damian shot him a glare that could have melted steel, but Jon didn’t even notice.

"You’re—uh—really pretty," Jon finally managed to choke out, his voice cracking slightly.

You laughed, a soft sound that only made Jon’s brain glitch further.

"Thanks, kiddo," you said, pinching his cheek. "You’re cute."

If Jon had a tail, it would’ve been wagging furiously. Damian, on the other hand, looked like he was about to commit murder.

From that day on, Jon was obsessed.

It takes exactly 0.2 seconds for Damian to realize Jon is crushing on you. The way Jon stares at you with stars in his eyes? The way he stumbles over his words when you talk to him? It’s disgusting.

Damian glare at Jon "You’re drooling."

"I-I am not!"

"Jon, are you okay? You’re all red." You said. You were worry for the kid.

Damian smirk "He’s fine. Just leave him."

Every time he came over to Wayne Manor, he asked about you. Where were you? What were you doing? Did you need help with anything? Damian was this close to slamming Jon’s head into the nearest wall.

"She’s busy, Kent," Damian would snap, his voice sharp enough to cut. "And she doesn’t have time to entertain idiotic farm boys."

But then you’d walk into the room, and Jon would light up like a Christmas tree. He’d start babbling about anything and everything, trying to impress you with stories about his dad or his adventures. You, being the sweetheart you were, humored him.

"Oh wow, you saved a cat from a tree?" you’d say, your tone genuine despite the simple nature of Jon’s stories. "You’re such a strong hero, Jon."

Damian, standing off to the side, would roll his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall out of his head.

Damian, of course, had always been protective of you. From the moment Bruce brought him into the family, you’d been his. You were his anchor, his comfort, the only person in the world who truly understood him.

But you didn’t see it that way.

To you, Damian was just your little brother. Sure, he had a sharp tongue and an attitude that could rival Gotham’s worst criminals, but deep down, he was a sweet kid. You adored him, and he adored you—though he showed it in his own... peculiar ways.

Like scowling at anyone who so much as looked at you.

Or “accidentally” spilling water on that guy who tried to flirt with you at the gala last month.

Or, more recently, hovering like a shadow every time Jon Kent was within a ten-foot radius of you.

It was during one of those infamous sleepovers that things came to a head.

The second Jon starts acting weird around you, Damian picks up on it. Like the time Jon saw you in the kitchen and tripped over his own feet, sending a glass of milk flying.

"Oh no, are you okay?" You say while helping Jon clean up, your hand brushing his

Jon blushing furiously "I—I’m fine! Really!"

Meanwhile Damian standing in the doorway, glaring daggers at him "Kent. A word."

Jon nervously excuses himself, and you think nothing of it. But in the other room, Damian corners him.

"Whatever you’re thinking, stop it," Damian growls.

"What? I don’t know what you’re talking about—"

Damian press him against the wall "Don’t test me, Kent."

Jon starts finding excuses to visit.

"Hey, Mr. Wayne wanted me to help with a case," he says one day, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Of course, Bruce didn’t actually call him over, but Jon’s banking on you not asking too many questions.

"Oh, that’s great! Damian’s in the training room."

"Actually… I was hoping to hang out with you. I mean, you’re so smart, and Damian talks about you all the time, and I think I could learn a lot from you."

Damian appears out of nowhere like a shadow. "She’s busy. Go away, Kent."

But Jon doesn’t leave. Instead, he lingers, asking you about everything: your favorite books, your favorite places to visit, what kind of guys you like (as if he’s not 13 and awkward).

"Jon, you’re a child," Damian says, arms crossed. "You can’t possibly comprehend what it means to appreciate someone as extraordinary as her."

"I’m only six years younger than her!"

"Exactly. Stay in your lane."

Damian takes it upon himself to shadow you everywhere whenever Jon is around, making it impossible for Jon to even think about making a move.

One day, Damian finds Jon leaving a love letter in your room. A love letter. Damian’s rage is unmatched. He tears the note in half and grabs Jon by the collar.

"If you ever even think about her again, I’ll make sure Superman has to scrape your remains off the moon."

"She deserves better than you."

Damian doesn’t respond. Instead, he calmly walks into your room, grabs your hand, and drags you downstairs.

"You’re not allowed to talk to Kent anymore," he announces.

"Wait, what? Why not?"

"Because he’s dangerous. Trust me, I’m doing this for your own good."

Damian doesn’t respond. Instead, he calmly walks into your room, grabs your hand, and drags you downstairs.

You’d made popcorn and brought it to Damian’s room, where he and Jon were supposed to be watching a movie. Instead, you walked in to find Jon staring dreamily at your photo on Damian’s desk (a candid shot of you laughing at something Alfred said).

Damian noticed your arrival first, his expression darkening.

"Kent," he growled.

Jon jumped, nearly knocking over the desk in his haste to look innocent. "I wasn’t—I mean—uh, hi, Y/N!"

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "Hey, Jon. You boys okay?"

"Fine," Damian said through gritted teeth.

Jon, ignoring the blatant hostility radiating from his best friend, nodded enthusiastically. "Better now that you’re here!"

Damian shot him a look that could have frozen fire.

"Aw, thanks," you said with a laugh, completely oblivious to the tension. "You two are so sweet. You know that?"

Damian muttered something under his breath—something Jon was probably glad he didn’t hear.

Later that night, while Damian was in the bathroom, Jon decided to shoot his shot.

"Hey, Y/N," he said, fidgeting with the hem of his Superman-themed pajamas. "I was wondering... do you wanna hang out sometime? Like, just the two of us?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "Like... a playdate?"

Jon’s face turned a deep shade of red. "N-No! Like... like a date-date."

You stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. "Oh, Jon, that’s so sweet. But I think you’re a little young for me, don’t you think?"

Jon looked crushed. Before he could respond, Damian walked back into the room, immediately sensing the shift in mood.

"What’s going on?" he demanded, eyes narrowing.

"Nothing," you said quickly, ruffling Jon’s hair. "Jon was just being his adorable self."

Damian’s eyes flicked between the two of you, his jaw tightening. He didn’t say anything, but the look he gave Jon promised retribution.

From that night on, Jon’s crush only grew, but so did Damian’s possessiveness. Jon was like a puppy, trailing after you with stars in his eyes. Damian, meanwhile, was the guard dog, snapping and growling at anyone who dared come near you—especially Jon.

You, of course, were blissfully unaware of the brewing storm. To you, they were just two adorable kids who couldn’t seem to get along.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[pomeraniandancer]

I am on disability, so I didn't directly deal with the health insurance aspect. I got lucky in that regard. But. When I survived getting hit by a car, the thing that disgusted me the most about the whole ordeal (even more than the inattentive driver who hit me) was the insurance company that handled my claim. (1) the experience of dealing with both the hospital who kept trying to get me to pay out of pocket even though the part not covered by my insurance would be covered by the driver's car insurance. My lawyer kept having to send them letters saying "Look, they don't have the money and they aren't responsible for paying what's not covered by insurance, that's the car insurance company's job. Stop sending them these bills." I was pretty impressed with his ability to write increasingly testy but unfailingly polite letters to the hospitals (I was at two separate hospitals, one for the initial ER and the second for surgery and initial recovery). (2) the car insurance company initially offered me an amount that didn't cover all my health bills, and considering part of that payment would go to cover lawyer expenses, would still require me to pay out of pocket after insurance. It wasn't until about a year after my accident -- by which time I was, as far as medical was concerned, fully recovered (I'll always have physical reminders of the accident).

I learned a lot about insurance companies that year. One of the things was that insurance companies don't initially deny or lowball people with the expectation that the person will accept that denial or lowball offer (although the company certainly hope they will). The goal is to delay paying out the claim as long as possible so that they can make as much money as possible out of the money they have in the bank to cover the costs *and* make a profit, before paying out the claim. Remember, this is a car insurance company, not a health insurance company. Car insurance companies jack up the costs of insurance on drivers who have been in claim-causing accidents the minute they get confirmation of such an accident. That means that in this case they were not only taking in more from that insurance holder, but making money on the interest rates, for an entire year before they gave me my final agreed-upon payout (which did allow for complete coverage of both medical bills and lawyer expenses). We're focusing on the failures and flaws of health insurance because it's so immediate; if you don't have insurance to cover you when you have appointments or treatments, then you're bust in this country. But it's not just a failure of health insurance, it's a flaw -- or, in the insurance companies' eyes, a feature -- of all insurance companies. There's a reason why a lot of insurance companies no longer covers housing built in flood-risk areas of Florida.

Health insurance is not a provider. It is a denier.

[whimsybats]

Task Force 141 x Batmom!Reader (Pt. 1?)

crossover AU

platonic Task Force 141 x batmom!reader x batfam

Bruce Wayne x Reader

(this is my first time writing headcanons on here or anywhere so I'm so sorry if it sucks LOL I might be adding more parts to this later/making it a series of headcanons? I need to get used to writing characters and their personalities, any tips would be appreciated!)

Batmom!Reader who was brought into the events of MW1 under Laswell's command.

I'd imagine she'd have become a Lieutenant. Prior to the events of MW1 she might've worked with Ghost a few times.

She assisted Gaz and Price in Piccadilly. With her medical skills and tactics she made an impression on both of them securing her place in 141 as the resident medic.

Her alias is up to you! (ex; Soap, Ghost, Gaz etc.)

I'd imagine she met Bruce pre-robin era after Piccadilly and assisted with an evacuation while he was Batman, despite his multiple attempts to get her out as well.

He then likely looked her up on the computer in the Batcave, intrigued. Bruce noticed her military background, seeing her involvement with Piccadilly among other events in her career, it made sense.

"Lieutenant (L/N)..." Bruce eyed the computer in interest.

"Another one of your... projects Master Bruce?"

"Something like that I guess."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Eventually you met as Bruce and (Y/n) and had gotten married along the way with having adopted your kids.

When you found out Bruce was Batman, you weren't too shocked, seeing as one of your teammates literally code name is Ghost and also dresses... in a similar scary fashion.

One by one he met your team. They each took their turns interrogating him, Price and Ghost the most. They had to make sure he treated their teammate well after all.

Alfred and Price got along well, likely bonding over their shared paternal figure roles and SAS backgrounds.

Soap and Gaz likely bond well with Dick and Jason.

I'm fairly certain Stephanie and Soap would make a great duo. They would so play pranks around the manor, one time they messed with Ghost maybe messing with his gear like his mask or something (maybe making it something cute instead of scary idk LOL) and he couldn't find his backup, so he had to go around in some cute cat balaclava or something.

Ghost might give them some jump scares once in a while, maybe standing in the corner like Drax when they realize some of their equipment is jammed only giving them a eerie smile under his mask and leaving them to figure out some of their own equipment was replaced with water guns or something.

You might end up having to defuse potential fights between Ghost and Bruce reminding you of Bruce's old fights with Jason.

Speaking of Jason... he and Kyle might try to "one up" each other but neither thinking that anything can really beat being revived straight from a Lazarus Pit.

"Ever fallen out of a helicopter... twice?" Gaz smirked.

"Nah, but you ever try dying?" Jason asked in response earning widened eyes from Gaz.

"You serious mate?"

"More than I'd like to admit," he shrugged, "but hey, more to hold over B's head the better."

"Bloody hell... Gotham is insane."

"Takes one to know one, or something like that."

---

Okay so we know Ghost likes to throw in an occasional joke but imagine he'd pull one in front of your kids.

"What do you call a soldier who loves to paint?" he asked Damian who simply looked up at him and glared with Jason right behind him.

"An art-illery master," queue the complaining from Jason and an eye twitch from Damian.

Bruce often gets more stressed whenever you're on the field, somehow he always finds a way to sneak into the comms and make sure your okay on a private line.

"Bruce I'm fine," you grunted as you took down an enemy, "let me speak to my damn Captain."

"...No."

"B..." you sighed, "I'll make sure this mission is done as quick as possible. Just go take care of the kids for me."

"Fine," he grumbled.

"I love you- now give me back my line to Price."

He mutters a "love you too" before cutting the line.

"What the hell was that Lieutenant?" Price asked on a private line with you and 141.

"My dumb husband," you rolled your eyes. (This would likely be when they know Bruce is Batman to avoid confusion)

Soap would whistle on the comms "Someone misses their missus huh?"

"Don't push it Johnny."

----

tag list: @otterluver05 @sad-girl09

please feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged for any upcoming fics related to this crossover!

[shizuturnspages]

Hi I have a request could you make a yandere gojo with a shy reader who doesn't care that he is a yandere because the reader was in toxic relationships and doesn't see yandere behavior as bad Thank you for reading me ^^

Oh. My. God. THAT IS SUCH AN IMPRESSIVE IDEA. I'm so down for this.

Gojo’s Ego Feeds Off Your Acceptance

❥ When Gojo realizes you don’t see his obsessive, possessive tendencies as a red flag, he feels invincible. Most people would run screaming if they caught a glimpse of the real Satoru, but you? You’re fine with it. That just confirms what he’s always believed—you’re meant for him.

❥ He sees your tolerance as proof of your love. In his mind, you’re basically giving him permission to be as controlling and overbearing as he wants. “You don’t mind, do you? Of course not. You’re perfect, and perfect people don’t need anyone else but me.”

Your Shyness Brings Out His Protective Side

❥ Gojo already sees himself as your protector, but your shy nature makes him feel even more responsible for your well-being. He’s constantly hovering, ready to step in if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way.

❥ He loves that you rely on him—whether it’s for emotional support or dealing with situations that make you uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got this. You don’t have to lift a finger.”

He Gets a Little… Territorial

❥ Gojo doesn’t like the idea of anyone else getting close to you, especially since you’ve been in toxic relationships before. He’s convinced that only he can keep you safe, so he goes out of his way to isolate you from potential threats (aka anyone who isn’t him).

❥ He’s not subtle about it, either. If someone from your past tries to reach out, they’ll regret it. “Oops. Looks like they had a little accident. Guess you’ll have to stick with me, huh?”

He Twists Your Past to His Advantage

❥ Gojo uses your history with toxic relationships to justify his behaviour. In his mind, he’s not being overbearing—he’s saving you from ever being hurt again.

❥ He’ll casually remind you of how much better he is than anyone else you’ve been with. “They didn’t deserve you. None of them did. But me? I’m different. I’ll take care of you, no matter what.”

A little scenario for having such a good idea <3

You’d barely settled into your seat at the small café when you felt it—the unmistakable prickle of someone watching you. Or rather, someone burning a hole into your soul with their gaze. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Gojo Satoru, with his signature sunglasses and that infuriatingly cocky smirk, was already making his way toward you.

“Hey, sweetheart!” His voice was as loud and unapologetic as ever, turning heads across the room. He dropped into the seat across from you without waiting for an invitation, leaning forward with an intensity that made your cheeks heat up.

“Satoru,” you mumbled, barely managing to meet his eyes. You were shy by nature, but something about Gojo made it even harder to hold your ground. He was overwhelming in every sense of the word.

“Miss me?” he teased, propping his chin on his hand.

You bit your lip, not sure how to respond. Of course, you’d missed him—it was impossible not to miss someone as magnetic as Gojo. But you also knew that admitting it would only feed his ego.

“Maybe,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

His grin widened. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The waitress approached with a nervous smile, clearly intimidated by Gojo’s presence. He ordered for both of you without consulting you, rattling off your favorite drink and a dessert you’d been craving lately. How he knew about the dessert was a mystery, but with Gojo, you’d learned not to question things.

As the waitress scurried off, Gojo turned his attention back to you. “So, how’s my favorite person doing today?”

You hesitated, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “I’m okay.”

“Just okay?” He frowned, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. His touch was warm, almost too warm, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “Come on, you can tell me if something’s bothering you.”

You hesitated, but the truth slipped out before you could stop it. “I… I ran into someone I used to know.”

Gojo’s grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. “Someone from your past, huh?” His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it that made your stomach churn.

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “It wasn’t a big deal. They just wanted to talk.”

“And did you?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I didn’t want to.”

His expression softened, but there was still a flicker of something dark in his eyes. “Good. You don’t need people like that in your life. You’ve got me now.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the genuine warmth in his voice. Gojo could be a lot to handle, but moments like this reminded you why you hadn’t pushed him away. He made you feel… safe.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of playful banter and stolen touches. Gojo was relentless in his affection, showering you with compliments and teasing remarks that left you blushing and stammering. By the time he walked you home, you were exhausted in the best way possible.

“Thanks for today,” you said softly as you unlocked your door.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he replied, leaning casually against the doorframe. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

You nodded, your heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his voice. “I know.”

“Good.” He reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin. “Because I meant what I said earlier. You don’t need anyone else. Just me.”

There was something about the way he said it that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t a threat, exactly, but it was close. Still, you found yourself nodding, unable to argue.

“Just you,” you murmured.

Gojo smiled, satisfied. “That’s my girl.”

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just made a deal with the devil. But if Gojo was the devil, then maybe—just maybe—you didn’t mind being damned.

[xo-adeline]

"Inked forever..."

⋆°• ☁︎ - Tattoo artist!Kaiser Feat. Michael Kaiser AN: I just love the idea of Tattoo artist Kaiser... so accept this as my brain rot (Also very heavily basing this off when I got my tattoo, and my tattoo, I'm sorry!!!) (Why did I actually kinda cook with this...)

The sound of machines whirring and the constant looking into the other area of the people getting tattooed made you question so much. Would it hurt? Well duh. Should you really be doing this? What would people think of you if you did? The thoughts started vanishing when you were finally called up to the front desk as they showed you the paper with the design on it. Normally the artist would do it, but since he was busy preparing and finishing up something else he wasn’t able to. But when you finally saw it, the drawing was stunning. It had taken inspiration from the piece of art you had found when scrolling the internet and made it that much better. The way the vines wrapped around, and the way the roses were a little bigger but still had an elegant look to them. It was even better than the picture. It was perfect. With a happy nod they took the paper back to the artist and told you he’d be done soon.

It was about 10 more minutes when the person he was just working on had paid and left, and all there was left was a few more minutes until you had actually seen the artist and he was able to permanently draw on you. Now that you were thinking about it, it kinda sounded weird. Letting a total stranger draw on you, and you have to keep that drawing forever? I mean you didn’t even know him, how was that supposed to work? Which brought you back to thinking about how you had even stumbled upon him.

The many pictures of tattoos had faded into your feeds, weather it was adds, or just scrolling on pintrest, instagram, and hell even tiktok! There was no escaping tattoo ideas. Well that was until you found this one page on instagram. Countless pictures had flooded your view all of them even more impressive then the last, weather it was flowers, humans, characters, even just little designs, they were flawless. Maybe it was just feeding into the idea more and more when you kept seeing more of his work pop up day after day. After the 2nd week of the art popping up you decided that maybe this was the universe telling you it was a good idea and you should just suck it up, and get that tattoo you’ve always been wanting. So you reached out to the artist via the email in the instagram bio, and within a few weeks there you were sitting in the tattoo parlor waiting for this man to call you back.

That was one of the only things however you didn’t see. Sitting in the waiting area of the tattoo place made you think about a lot of strange things. Maybe it was the nerve, maybe it was just because you were waiting for the pain to hit. But one thing you did know for sure, was you had never actually seen him before. All his posts online were about his tattoo works, weather it was on people, a screen, or on paper. He had never once actually posted what he looked like. You could only assume it was a guy due to his name, or at least the name on the email. Michael Kaiser. Pretty cool name if you did say so. But still, you were walking into this blind with a random dude you had never seen before. Luckily if you needed to run, there were other employee’s around…

After you had worried yourself down a rabbit hole a voice called out to you.

“(Name). Right? Kaiser.”

When you turned over your shoulder, being snapped out of your spiral there he was. The Michael Kaiser, that you now knew was a guy, standing there, holding the tattoo stencil in his hand.

“Oh uh yeah! Sorry.”

“No worries. Nervous?”

He started walking back and gave a little nod of his head signaling you to follow

“A little..”

The guy brought you back to one of the chairs, setting down the stencil on the desk next to him, a small grey table with a tattoo gun with grey wrapping around it, ink colors in little containers, and two cups, one with water and rubbing alcohol. Now that you were back there, everybody else getting something done seemed pretty chill, even if there was only 2 other people besides the artists. Nobody screaming, crying, or freaking out. I mean if nobody else was, why would you?

You got up in the chair as he sat down on the stool, looking down at the stencil, before giving a little smile. He turned around and placed it down on your ankle.

“That look good in terms of placement?”

He pointed back at a mirror and you went to check it out, seeing it was it a perfect spot you nodded on the way back, sitting back up in the chair as he started getting everything else ready. You looked away for a few minutes, seeing whatever was on the TV’s that you could perhaps look at when he was doing it so you wouldn’t feel weird staring directly at him as he worked.

“If you need a break, lemme know”

He gave a slight smirk when you turned back towards him

“Rough place for your first one.”

And then he started. At first it wasn’t to bad, a pinch here and there, but nothing you couldn’t handle, well that was until about an hour later he got to the back part of your ankle. You were grateful that you could burry you’re face into the chair at this point, because lord have mercy, did it hurt. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was a rough spot. Luckily during that you did get to have a break, heading over to pay before he finished it back up. Which was when you learned an interesting story. Apparently, due to the behind the counter people, he was actually supposed to take leave that day, and he had moved all his other appointments until you had emailed him asking about the blue rose tattoo, and that was when he had called back in saying he wasn’t actually taking leave anymore, and that they could move back appointments besides the one from when you were coming in. That’s when you remembered, on his neck, he also had a blue rose tattoo, and you finally thought about how it was weird that he had made a story post a little bit after you emailed him saying that he was gonna be out, and then suddenly he was totally open for that same day.

When you finally got back mostly everybody else had clearned out and it was just you and him, plus the people still at the front. Even if the pain was almost unbearable at this point you tried your best to keep it together and not cry, or let out any sort of noise. You knew that he was probably gonna be done soon and you just had to hold on until then, easy, right? You’ve been doing it this long.

And right you were. It was only about 20 more minutes until he finished, wiping down the rest of the color that was smeared across your ankle, before wrapping it up in a sheet of cling-wrap and some tape.

“Take it off in the morning, wash it off, and you should be good to go. Make sure to moisturize it for a few weeks until the peeling goes away and that’s it.”

He handed you a piece of paper with the same instructions, and just as you were about to leave you spoke back up.

“Hey um.. I saw on your instagram you were supposed to be off today…”

He looked back over from his station where he was cleaning up and wiping stuff down.

“Yeah. Was supposed to get out of town for a trip with some of my friends, no big deal.”

“Then why didn’t you..?”

“Because I wanted to do that tattoo of yours. Didn’t wanna let somebody else have it. Not often you see people coming in here asking for a blue rose tattoo.”

He shrugged, throwing some of papers away, before sitting back down on the stool.

“Plus, not every day a pretty girl slips into your email asking for a tattoo, and who am I to stay no?”

He gave a small laugh and a smirk took over his face.

“Hey, how about instead of your email I get your number, and maybe next time we talk it will be scheduling a time for a date and not a tattoo. I mean I’m pretty sure it’s fate we met, we already have matching tattoos~.”

A smile over took your face as you exchanged numbers with him, and in turn he walked you out. Right as you were about to get back in your car and head home, he walked over and kissed your cheek.

“You did well for your first tattoo, maybe you’re next one you’ll have my initials~”

[ishtar7677]

This was a Christmas gift to me and my husband from our GM of our very first characters that we ever TTRPG'ed (Pathfinder) who commissioned this from @cutetanuki-chan. (The picture is from me taking a picture and cropping at a weird angle - the whole thing in its frame is stunning.) These two characters (Chrissy and Odhran) met when our game night people were like... hey let's try pathfinder. So I made a character and so did my husband and after meeting them, I was like... oh god... we are gonna get divorced. Lol. We were struggling at the time. And we made these characters and god, they hated each other so much..... but eventually found their way to being friends. But they were our first characters EVER. The next character my husband rolled up in this campaign (we needed to double up to round out a playable campaign), my rogue eventually formed a romantic attachment with. Then I made a bard for a totally separate campaign, and now we're both determined that he meet Chrissy at some point b/c within MINUTES of meeting my bard in a totally unrelated campaign, we were like, okay he's soulmates with Chrissy! But that's the magic right? Finding the parts of ourselves unexpectedly that can be completely accepting of other parts of our partner... even the parts of them that we thought we didn't like, want to be around, or understand to begin with. (CAUTION WARNING: let the reader understand, do NOT use this story to excuse abuse or bad behavior to try to fix a partner! This is an exercise that can ONLY be done with a feeling of absolute safety and trust between partners. We were not there when we started TTRPGS but got to a better place of trust due to his own personal work with therapy. But there were MASSIVE strides before I even trusted it. ) We joked tonight after our friend gave us this picture that Odhran (my rogue) saw this picture and was like oh GOD, what hell-fan of Chrissy (actress) did this? Why do I look like I'm worshipping her? GAHHH nOoOo. But....Odhran can also shut all the way up. :) What ultimately makes me as the player love this picture so much is probably the underpinnings of a romanticism depiction. These two characters, while they never and will never fall in love, in a meta sense, they were the gateway for us into several characters who did help us rediscover love again after years in a very difficult marriage, find a adhd hack into new relationship energy through RPing, and just provide us an outlet for a lot of intense emotional energy. And this artist, despite knowing NONE of this, captured its essence in a two completely non-romantic character portrait. @cutetanuki-chan you knew none of this and still managed to capture it perfectly. This picture will hang proudly in our house and I will enjoy explaining it to anyone who walks through our doors. Your depiction of HERO FORGE characters being so accurate is stupid impressive. Also shout out to our GM, Grace, who actively sought this out for us. What a perfect present. We couldn't ask for a better GM or a better friend. You're family and we love you so much.

[mashpotatoequeen]

Ooooooh but I love this. I LOVE this. I remember when so much of the awesome fanart we got were little headshots like this, a small inspiration taken from the book art. It's always incredibly fun seeing people's own take on it, though, and your take is positively lovely.

My boy Reynie! Look at him!!! Look at his little sweater vest!!! Look at how kind his smile is, oh my goodness. I don't know how artists capture emotions with lines but every time it make me feel The Awe. I love how each of the kids has a little colour associated with them, and I LOVE how Reynie is green!! You chose so well. It's cool how the green colour isn't just his vest and the little clover decorations, but rather a part of his outline too!!! (And with the other kids as well, Reynie's just where I first noticed.)

Sticky is ADORABLE here. I love his shy smile and his big ol' glasses. His eyes are even a little bigger than the others because of the lenses! That's fantastic detail I'm so impressed! His outfit is also perfect and very much a Sticky look, which makes me grin. The little worry drops as his... symbol(?) is so fitting. I want to hug him. I want to hug The Boi.

Constance's little grumpy face is so charming, in the way that little grumpy kids are endlessly charming to me. They've got big personalities and Opinions and this is absolutely fantastic! Of course she's wearing her raincoat, but I like the little red clip in her hair too. Another perfect sign too with the red wrinkles!! She is grumpy! It's cool how cartoons and anime and comics have given us these codes to let us look at little lines and know exactly what they represent!

Kate! Look at her big grin and her little winky face! She's got such personality and you've captured it beautifully here. It's really cool how you managed to capture the difference between Kate and Constance's hair, one being whispy white/blonde and one golden! Sometimes it's a toss up with what colour Kate is - her red bucket is so iconic!- but I totally agree that she's a yellow. She's bright and cheery and excitable 95% of the time!

Anyways, these are so lovely @lotsofsq! I'd love to hear about your process or why yous specifically added any of those little details like the symbols if you have the time and energy and will, but not worries! I'm just happy I got to enjoy them. Thank you for sharing!

THE MYSTERIOUS BENEDICT SOCIETY!!!!!!

i’ll be posting most of my stuff chronologically so enjoy my journey

[ID copies from alt text: four headshots of the four society members: reynie is smiling calmly, his hair is sweeping left over his forehead. he is wearing a green sweater vest with a line of little sprouts on it over a button down. sticky has a nervous expression, he is fully bald. he is wearing a blue sweater over a button down. constance looks peeved and has wispy blonde hair with red hair clips. she is wearing a red coat over a yellow shirt. kate is excited and winking, her gold blonde hair is in a high ponytail. she is in a red and white striped t-shirt. all 4 have emphasized lines around them in their respective colors: reynie has green flowers, sticky has blue sweat beads, constance has red jagged lines, and kate has yellow radial lines around her. ]

[cozymochi]

For ask meme

Quote and backstory for Cecil, If you can't, you can choose just one. I love him and you other ocs very much 💖💕💗

Backstory: Tell me anything about your twst OC's backstory. Their childhood, their parents, their siblings etc. Does their backstory affect how they are as a character now and how they interact with the cast?

Cecil comes from a family of mages/witches, so that’s cool. His dad is a Royal Sword Academy alumni, so that’s something. He has an older twin sister, her name is Claudia.

She’s meticulous and always holds her head high when it comes to her magical ability and her appearance (💖). Outside of NRC, especially in their home village, they’re often viewed as a pair and compared to one another. (…Mainly Cecil getting compared to her.)

They have a magical rivalry since both of their magic manifested as children around the same time. Though, that’s probably when things started to go south in terms of their once more friendly relationship.

Further yapping under cut. 🔮

Claudia technically got her magic first, but Cecil has much larger reserves and a really natural instinct for it.

Unfortunately for Cecil, this caused a lot of problems early on with a perceived lack of control and a pattern of disasters if he got overwhelmed. Claudia was usually at the receiving end of those disasters, so much like the adults in their village, she doesn’t trust him with magic at all.

Repeated fumbling just made Cecil seem like a hazard who can only do wrong, while his sister was doing everything correctly and seemed more reliable. Her doing well just made his mistakes look worse by comparison. Even if they were really small.

So it became a case of Cecil’s self-confidence taking a major blow, meanwhile Claudia kind of got propped up as somebody he should be striving to emulate.

Over time, it was less that he didn’t have control, but lack of faith from anyone else during his formative years didn’t really help. And since magic is strongly imagination based, that can manifest as shoddy spell-casting unintentionally, even if he knows what he’s doing now.

Claudia is most certainly envious of Cecil’s lifelong affinity with magic, so she compensated by becoming an expert on all things surrounding it like, poisons, potions, curses, practical spell casting, conjuring. etc. and all of the correct most efficient ways to do so.

Though, ultimately it doesn’t matter how meticulous she is because her reserves are just too low for any arcane academy to care. She is not impressive enough to be accepted into any such school, but the bumbling Cecil was.

Her Signature Spell is just changing a persons hair/hair color. (Not that she’d let anyone know… not even her brother.)

There’s less celebration that Cecil got into the prestigious Night Raven College, so much as how unfair it that the seemingly perfect Claudia can’t get into any arcane academy at all. Dad doesn’t really care for NRC anyway so that doesn’t help.

They’re kind of both jealous of each other in some capacity, but neither have communicated this so they’re currently just strained. They can have good days, but otherwise they don’t really talk unless Cecil comes home. …And when he does, expect yapping about all of Claudia’s accomplishments while he was away.

Fun.

SO! How does all this manifest in how Cecil interacts with the cast?

It most emerges as deadpan snark and himself getting jealous about his peers’ magical prowess or their support systems. He just feels this insatiable need to prove how competent he is. …To mixed results.

Maybe he needs to become some hero who saves people or something? Or some kind of authority that gets respect no matter what?? He doesn’t really know.

So here’s Cecil having an all that baggage and just outside of his orbit is freaking Diasomnia fam.

It can get somebody a little… resentful.

He probably wouldn’t have gone to NRC at all if not for his need to prove himself. That, and maybe one teensy tiny push from a precocious neighbor.

But, who can really say?

[aurorawhisperz]

I Just Wanna See You Shine (r.c.)

contains: smut (18+), swearing.

rafe cameron x overachiever!reader

summary: everyone counted on you to be the valedictorian, the go-to for tough subjects and the one who never got in trouble. one day, rafe cameron had came up to you for some tutoring but it turns out he was just paying for the pleasure of your company.

i just wanna see you shine ‘cause i know you are a stargirl.

if everybody was betting on valedictorian, everybody would be betting on you. you were the one person who had it all figured out; high grades, perfect attendance, a reputation for never stepping out of line.

no drama. no distractions. no boyfriend. you were the only person who actually cared about deadlines, assignments and getting into a good college even as a rich kid.

at kildare academy, no one really cared about what you did or didn’t do. everyone was rich, privileged, and used to getting what they wanted.

graduation wasn’t a huge deal; chances for success were handed to you with a silver spoon. the kooks had money, connections, and opportunities waiting for them at every turn. even if they flunked a test, they’d still get into the best colleges, all thanks to their families’ influence and wealth.

people didn’t expect much from your personal life, if anything, they just assumed you didn’t have one, too busy studying to bother with parties or boys. and even if you did, rafe cameron would be the last name anyone would think of.

he was everything you weren’t; wild, reckless, the kind of guy who didn’t care about grades or the future. he drove fast cars, lived life with no sense of direction. and you? you were the complete opposite.

right now, you’d find yourself breaking a rule you swore you’d never cross, all because of that stupid boy.

you knew he was up to no good the minute he slipped those silver glasses off of your face.

this was the tenth-ish guttural moan rafe had let out. his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he feels your walls squeezing around him. rafe was completely lost to the need, the primal desire for you. the one thing missing from his great list of achievements. his body strained with the effort to resist the urge to take you, to make you his.

rafe was completely at your mercy, completely undone, his body twitching with need as you moved your hips against him. his eyes were locked onto yours, his stare desperate and pleading, his voice a ragged whisper as he moaned your name over and over again, each repetition edged with a hint of desperation, as if he couldn’t stand to be without you for even a moment.

“why are you so fucking good at this?” he breathed out, a little surprised, but also impressed. his mouth hanging open with every movement.

“one terrible experience,” you replied matter-of-factly. “i didn’t bother with anyone else. i don’t waste time. i’m a fast learner, though. especially when it comes to… watching. visual things tend to stick.”

you never would’ve imagined that rafe cameron, the kook prince, the guy who practically owned kildare island, would be wrapped around your little finger. but somehow, he was.

his mouth watered as you leaned over him, your boobs hovering so close to his mouth. his hands clenching around the bedsheets, his body rigid as he waits for you to say something.

rafe swallowed hard, his breath coming in quick gasps, his entire body tense and straining with the effort to hold back. the effort to stop himself from rolling you both over and to stop himself from fucking you so dirty, but in this moment, rafe was completely under your control, and he knows it. he can't help but want you.

“you can touch me.” you held onto his shoulder for some sense of control as you continued rolling your hips. rafe let out a low, guttural moan as you gave him permission, his eyes closing briefly as he waited for you to descend closer. then he leaned upwards, taking your breast in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipple as he suckles you, his hands moving to your hips, holding you in place.

rafe’s hips bucked up into you as he slid himself deeper, his voice a low, ragged moan. “you feel so good..” he gasps. “feel so damn good…i can’t get enough of you…fuck…”

“yeah?” your thumb moved to rub over his bottom lip. “can’t get enough of me?”

rafe’s hands grabbed at your hips, his touch nearly painful.

“we’re gonna do this again, and again, and again, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice low and rough as he thrusted up into you. “all” slap. “night.” slap. “long.” slap.

you pulled on your clothes, moving quietly as rafe laid there, worn out and more exhausted than you’d ever seen him. but that smile tugging at the creases of his lips—his smirk that you knew so well was still there. his voice broke the silence, his tone lazy, but with that familiar edge of smugness. “looks like i got something, or someone, to add to my collection,” he said, the words carrying a challenge, as though he was satisfied by the moment but still trying to hold some control.

as you reached for your shoes, he propped himself up on one elbow, his voice thick with that cocky tone as he started running his mouth again. “well, well, look at you. the overachiever, the one everybody thought was untouchable, sucked right into my world.” rafe let out a low chuckle and his eyes locked onto yours. "guess it fits the narrative. you were the only thing missing from the story.”

you stood up, slipping on your shoes but you couldn't help the grin that tugged at your lips even if his words punched your ego so badly.

moving closer, you leaned down slightly, lowering your voice to a seductive whisper. "if you tell anyone," you said, your words deliberate, "i’ll have to tell them about how you were so willing to submit and how you were shaking and almost crying under my control.”

without giving him a chance to say anything back, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, a short one but it left a spark behind. you walked confidently to the door, not glancing back until you reached the threshold.

“see you around, kook prince,” you tossed your bag over your shoulder. rafe shifted, a devilish smirk lighting up his face, and replied with that trademark cockiness, “see you around, princess.”

[monster-disaster]

For monsters would robots or mechs be considered under the umbrella? If so I'd love to see one of those

robot!2000 x human!Reader Good to know: smut, filming

A/N: I'm not sure they count as monsters, but we don't care about it here, so here it is:

-

"Are you sure it won't hurt me?"

"It'll be fine, Y/N," the director says, holding up a sleek, black remote. A tiny red light blinks at its center. "See? I can turn it off anytime. You've got nothing to worry about."

His words don’t entirely soothe the flutter of nerves tightening in your stomach, but you decide to let it slide. Instead, you take a steadying breath and let your gaze drift to the set. They've dressed it as a bedroom this time, with warm, earthy tones and fabrics that seem to glow under the studio lights. A plush comforter and layers of silky throws drape over the bed in the center. Their textures and hues are softened by the bright glow. It’s familiar and ordinary, yet there’s one aspect that pulls your gaze: the robot. Perched at the edge of the bed, it sits still and silent. Its steel-blue body catches the light in sharp reflections. Its hard lines and edges define a shape that’s more machine than man. Where eyes should be, two glassy lenses stare blankly ahead, they are more like headlights than anything else. There's no nose, no lips, just a featureless mask of metal. The craftsmanship is impressive, each seam welded with care, every surface polished to a mirror-like sheen, but despite the quality, it’s still unlike anything you’ve worked with before.

"It’s just a trial run, Y/N," the director assures you, a touch of seriousness entering his voice. He knows you are hesitating. "And remember, we can stop at any moment. You are in control."

"Yeah," you reply with a sigh. There's still a thread of doubt in your mind, but a spark of curiosity flickers to life as well. How would this even work? What would it feel like? Your imagination spirals through possibilities that feel both thrilling and unsettling.

“Think of it as a high-tech vibrator with some... extras," someone quips from the crew, breaking the tension. You let out a huff of laugh at the absurdity of it all but still feel yourself relax a little. Looking at it now, cold and mechanical, it’s actually easier to imagine it as an oversized toy than a person.

"Alright, let's begin," you finally say, shrugging the soft robe off your shoulders and letting it pool at your feet. Bare and exposed, you cross the set with slow, deliberate steps.

Though you've been on sets like this many times before, it feels strangely unfamiliar now. There’s an odd hollowness to the room; you’re acutely aware of being alone in front of the cameras. Each lens is trained intently on you, capturing your every movement. Before, there was always someone by your side to share the stage with.

But now, it’s just you and… it.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you can’t help but glance back and forth between the crew behind the lights and the motionless hulk of metal before you. It sits there, rigid and silent. You feel its presence but can’t shake how empty it seems.

After a moment, you call out, "What should I do?" You squint toward the lights, knowing the director is there, though you can’t make him out through the brightness.

"Get to know it better," he replies smoothly, his tone both encouraging and calm. "I won’t turn it on until you say so."

"Does it have a name?" you ask, stepping closer until your leg brushes his knees. It's cold against your skin.

"Two Thousand, for short."

"Still a mouthful," you mutter, earning a snort from somewhere off-set, and you roll your eyes with a chuckle of your own.

Turning your attention back to the robot, you take a cautious step forward, positioning yourself between its legs. The metal frame looms over you, so still that it feels both fragile and imposing. You shuffle carefully, aware of every inch of space, worried that a single misstep might send it toppling.

"Okay, 2K," you murmur, almost to yourself. Standing there, bare under the watchful eyes of the cameras, you feel a strange vulnerability with something that doesn’t even acknowledge your presence.

The lights catch the robot’s exterior, highlighting its metallic shell in shifting hues of steel and blue. With a slight tremble, you reach out, fingers brushing its cold face, feeling the smoothness of its mask-like surface. It doesn’t give under your touch; no warmth, no softness. Your fingertips trace along the hard lines and rigid contours, searching for something familiar, something human, or monster, that isn't there. Each feature is crafted with an almost unsettling precision, as though whoever designed it aimed to capture a form but left out the essence. One of your hands trails down from the robot’s face to touch its shoulder, feeling the ridges and seams where each piece of the outer shell connects.

"Alright, 2K," you whisper, inching closer. Your fingers explore further down, testing how it might feel to embrace this odd, unyielding body. Its chest is solid, a sleek, polished surface that feels strangely impersonal, and yet… as your hands slide over its torso, you can sense the immense complexity beneath the exterior, the intricate network of wires and mechanisms that make it tick. A part of you wants to press your ear to its chest, to see if you can hear something, a hum, a pulse, anything that might hint at life within this shell, but you know you would find nothing.

"I'm ready," you murmur, glancing up at the cameras and bright lamps surrounding you. The weight of their gaze feels heavier now as if just remembering that you are not alone. At least, not entirely. You give a small nod toward the lights. "You can turn it on."

A moment passes, and you catch a slight flicker behind the robot's eyes as the director presses a button on the remote. The room holds its breath, the silence thickening as you watch the lifeless machine come to life.

Slowly, there’s a shift. The machine’s joints emit a faint whirring sound as it adjusts its stance, trying to seem relaxed and comfortable. The blue lights in its eyes brighten, and its head lifts a little. Though you can't be sure, it feels like its unblinking gaze is fixed on you with a weight that wasn't there a moment ago. It’s subtle, but there’s a presence now, an awareness that sends a ripple through the air.

“Hello, 2K,” you say. Your voice is softer now, almost like a whisper. You reach out again, feeling the same cold metal under your fingertips, but this time, it’s as if the machine acknowledges your touch, its head tilting slightly in response.

"It can't speak yet," the director interjects, cutting through the charged atmosphere. "It can understand what you say, but we still need some programming before it's finished."

You nod, absorbing this information. "And what should we do?" Your voice is steady but laced with uncertainty. In any other filming scenario, you could rely on the other actor to take the lead, to help you navigate the scene if you feel lost, but right now, the only companion you have is the robot who merely sits on the bed, staring at you silently.

The director clears his throat, his gaze shifting from the monitor back to you. "Just engage with it. Think of it as a scene with a living character."

You nod slowly, but when you’re sure the cameras can’t capture your expression, you can’t help but grimace. It’s definitely easier said than done. The concept of treating this cold, unfeeling machine as if it were alive feels impossible.

You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the nervous energy buzzing in your veins. "Okay, 2K," you sigh again with a hint of determination in your voice. “Help me make this interesting.”

Your words seem to reach deeper than you thought they would because the next second, its, no, it doesn’t feel right anymore, his hands lift from his hard thighs, palms smoothing over your hips with a surprising gentleness.

"Oh," you gasp, taken aback by the shock and coldness of his touch.

“Told you it can understand you,” the director says with a hint of laughter dancing in his voice.

You blink, trying to process what just happened. “Yeah,” you breathe out. “Okay.”

The robot’s hands remain on your hips, steady and firm, yet the way they linger carries a strange tenderness. The cool metal against your skin becomes a focal point, heightening your senses, and making the world around you fade away just a little.

“Let’s see where this goes,” you say. “So, what now? Do you have a plan, or are we just improvising?” You mean it as a joke, but the robot reacts anyway.

The whirring sound grows louder, a mechanical hum resonating through the air as his grip on your hip tightens just enough to pull you onto his lap. Another shocked gasp escapes your lips as you feel the hard edges of his frame press against your own soft thighs. The contrast is startling yet strangely thrilling.

"We have to do something with the sound," some murmurs in the background.

Your hands instinctively find their place on his wide shoulders, fingers curling into the smooth surface of his metallic body. The way he holds you is surprisingly secure, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he’s navigating the balance between strength and caution.

“Okay, 2K,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, a playful challenge underlying your tone. “What’s your next move?”

His hand from your side slips up to your breast, gently exploring the softness of your flesh in his cold grip. The contrast of his metallic touch against your skin sends a ripple of sensation through you, hardening your nipple instantly. You hold your breath, the moment feeling both intimate and surreal as his fingertips glide over the underside, tracing the outline in careful exploration.

“Oh,” you murmur with a hint of chuckle. “You’re definitely more curious than I expected.”

You lean into him more, allowing yourself to embrace the moment. “Show me what you’ve got,” you say playfully.

Your heart races with anticipation, but his response is immediate. You feel his grip shift slightly, adjusting his hold around you so you sink more against him.

“What do you think of this?” you ask, cupping your breasts and pressing them together in a way that angles them for the cameras, ensuring they catch the moment. “Do you like it?” You try to shake off the awkwardness that comes from the robot’s silence, the lack of an audible answer hanging in the air tensely. Instead of words, 2K reaches out again. His movements are smooth and deliberate. His thumbs glide over your skin, brushing against your nipples. The coolness of his metal touch contrasts sharply with the warmth of your body.

“Wow,” you breathe out, caught off guard by how responsive he is, despite his silence. His exploration feels almost intimate as if he’s not just following instructions but genuinely interacting with you. You instinctively arch toward him, craving more of his curious touch.

The cameras continue to roll, capturing every word and every movement, but the watchful eyes are slipped to the back of your mind by now.

“Let’s move on,” the director says quietly. His voice cut through the haze of your focus. As usual, you want to follow his instruction without hesitation, but as you glance down between your bodies, you find… nothing. Your eyes widen in recognition, and confusion washes over you.

“Where- where is his dick?” you stammer, looking up at the bright lights as if they might offer some explanation for the sudden gap in your understanding, but before anyone can reply, the 2K reacts. With a smooth mechanical grace and a whirring sound, the plates beneath the sleek metal of its abdomen slide apart. His cock emerges, firm and gleaming. It juts out between your bodies, stealing your breath away for several seconds.

"This guy is full of surprises, isn't it?" You ask, almost laughing.

The director hums with a chuckle. "I believe you know what you have to do from now on."

A few silent seconds stretch out before you finally speak up again. “But how does it work? Does he need to consent? I mean-"

“Y/N, it’s a robot... he’s really just a giant vibrator."

“Yeah, but-" The longer you look at him, the more difficult it becomes to see him as just a hunk of metal, especially when his smooth, mechanical hands start to caress your bare skin. He draws delicate circles on your sides, the touch sending shivers up your spine, and gently pulls at your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to elicit a gasp from your lips. Each calculated movement blurs the lines between machine and human, igniting a flicker of warmth within you that makes it impossible to ignore the growing excitement.

"I think we can call it consent," somebody says in the background with a touch of surprise in his voice when the robot grips your hips firmly, lifting you slightly off his lap just enough to glide his cock across your damp folds. The cold touch on your heated center sends a ripple over your spine and your hands tighten on his shoulders with anticipation. You feel weightless in his strong grasp as he effortlessly supports your body, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to ease you down onto his length. Each inch of him stretches you, testing your limits, and you can’t help but feel grateful for the preparation you did before filming. He slips inside you with surprising ease, filling you completely until every inch of his erection is enveloped within you. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you wiggle against him, seeking friction and fueled by a surge of curiosity. The coolness of his metallic form contrasts sharply with the warmth radiating from your center, creating a tantalizing sensation that dances between discomfort and pleasure.

"I want a close-up," the director says to someone.

As you adjust to the fullness, your body instinctively reacts, contracting around him, eager for more. With each subtle shift of your hips, your breath hitches in your throat. The robot responds to your movements, adapting to your rhythm with uncanny precision. His hands remain firmly on your hips, guiding you gently as you rock against him, drawing out moans that echo in the quiet room.

You can sense the curiosity of those watching, their eyes glued to the scene unfolding before them. It's new to them too.

You lean back slightly, arching your back for the camera as 2K's shaft glides in and out of you. Each thrust pushes you higher, and you can feel the pulse of desire building within you, throbbing and urging for more. You feel every subtle shift, every thrust, as he adapts to your movements. His body responds seamlessly to your desires. The sensation of him stretching you, filling you so completely, sends waves of pleasure radiating through your entire being. You feel like a raw nerve, perched on his lap with his arms around you, holding you and guiding you up and down on his cock. You rock your hips against him, half-delirious, seeking that perfect angle that sends your pleasure soaring. You feel him respond once again, adjusting his hold around you as his movements become more urgent, more insistent. He matches your rhythm, driving deeper into your bouncing heat.

In the back of your mind, you are still aware of the cameras filming you, and you try to do what you usually do for the right angles and records, but every fiber within you urges you to be selfish and chase your pleasure.

You bite your lip, stifling a moan as you feel the tension coiling tightly in your abdomen. Your breaths come in quick, shallow gasps, mingling with the soft, whirring sounds of the robot. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt before, a blend of raw human desire and robotic precision for your pleasure.

You grip his shoulders tighter. Your nails scratch over the smooth, metal surface. “I’m close,” you croak out. Urgency laces your voice, but before you can finish the sentence, something shifts. A high-pitched moan escapes your lips as you jolt on his length. The moment the robot's cock begins to vibrate, the world around you blurs, and all thought evaporates in your foggy mind.

The vibrations travel through you like a current, sending shockwaves of pleasure from your core. Each pulse ignites your senses, overwhelming you in the best possible way. Instinctively, you arch your back more, pressing down on him harder. The metal surface of his erection, once cool, now feels alive against your heated walls. The rhythmic buzz amplifies every movement, and with each thrust, you swear you can feel the vibration in your pussy on the tip of your fingers too.

You can’t hold back the sounds spilling from your lips in a maddening rhythm. It feels as if the entire world has narrowed down to this one electrifying moment. Your breaths come faster, more desperate, each gasp mingling with the mechanical hum of the robot.

You are teetering on the edge, and then, with one final surge of vibrations and powerful thrusts, you feel it. Your body trembles as the pleasure crashes through you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and blissfully adrift in your climax.

As your mind clears enough for you to lift your head from the robot’s shoulder, you gaze up at the director, noticing that the lights have dimmed slightly, casting a softer glow over the room. “How was it?” you ask breathlessly, still suspended in the remains of your incredible release. You can feel your pussy still fluttering around his rigid cock, instinctively trying to milk something more, craving that sweet sensation once again.

The man watching from his seat smirks with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “I think it will work.”

[m0nnypie]

01. [PROLOGUE]

✿ warnings. to all the boys I've loved before!Au, quirkless!reader, teacher!reader, aged up characters, all the boys are pro-hero (including Deku).

✿ synopsis. Your childhood letters, the ones in which you declare your love for every crush you had, ended up being sent without your permission. What could come of that?

✿ words account. 1.2k

You remember the last time your life was really in turmoil, you were only 15. And you were just some random person in the middle of a villain attack, who was saved by a bunch of teenagers in training. You certainly thanked most of them, except for that stupid blond guy you don't even like to mention by name.

But why reminisce about the past? Especially if your present was everything you wanted it to be. It wasn't news to many that people without a quirk rarely got on in the world. Especially considering that they were in the minority.

You didn't care either way, you didn't have extreme dreams for a normal person like you. You just wanted to be a teacher, and it's not as if it wasn't an important profession. It's thanks to people like you that people like the pro-heros are who they are today.

You loved how peaceful your life had become once you became a teacher. Well, more or less peaceful, I mean, a lot of the time your pupils were a bunch of jerks. But you loved them, until now.

You were already late, something that never happened. And to make matters worse, the road you took to school was in the throes of a villain attack. How wonderful. You needed to get out of there as quickly as possible.

And before you could even think about getting out of there, a piece of debris made by the fights started hurtling towards you. You were very lucky. But of course you don't have to worry, do you? The wonderful and amazing Dynamight was there to save the day! How wonderful.

"HEY YOU EXTRA! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING! CAN'T YOU SEE WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FIGHT?!!!!"

You just wanted to roll your eyes at his every word. Honestly, you'd rather have been hit than even have to look that blond bastard in the face. But before you could tell him to fuck off, your eyes hit the person next to him.

"Kac-Dynamight! You can't treat civilians like that!" Those green eyes looked straight at you. "Are you all right? Where are you going? I can take you close to make sure it's safe."

He smiled at you. An adorable smile, but one you wanted to hate with all your heart. You simply didn't say anything to either of them, and began to withdraw from their presence. As you walked away, you could see the green-haired man stopping the blond from probably talking some shit that would ultimately backfire on him.

After you've finally arrived at school, and get a little scolding from the principal. You walked happily to your classroom, completely forgetting recent events.

As soon as you entered the classroom, you were greeted by your little henchmen, whom you called students. You wondered how 7-year-olds could make such a fuss at 8 in the morning.

"TEACHER! TEACHER! WHY ARE YOU LATE?" Many asked at once, and you wanted to simply ignore each question and tell them to be quiet and go sit down. But you couldn't do that, could it? How sad.

"Please be quiet!" You tried to calm the adorable little pests. "I'll only speak as soon as everyone is quiet!!!"

At that moment everyone was quiet, and you finally explained the reason for your delay. Killing the curiosity of some, but piquing the curiosity of others, who wanted to know more about the hero Dynamight and Deku.

"Were they handsome?" "Did you talk to them?" "Were they like princes?" "I wanted to marry them so badly." Silly questions from children, you know?

How you wanted to tell them to their faces how unbearable each of those stupid heroes were. But you couldn't, haha. So you just gave a fond smile and said.

"Oh yes! They're great heroes! If it weren't for them, I wouldn't even be here right now!" All your students seemed impressed and fascinated that you had come into contact with the heroes they tried to love.

"Right, kids! Now let's get to class! No more talking!" They all exclaimed sadly.

"Today's activity... is to write a letter to someone you love!" In the background, you could hear several boys and girls saying "ew", while some even seemed excited about the idea.

"But teacher! I don't know how to write a love letter!" You laughed, reaching into your bag for something.

"That's why I brought examples for you to see!" You showed them letters that were at least a few years old. "These are some I made back in my teenager days! It's not much today! But back then they were everything to me"

"Why didn't you hand them in, teacher?"

"I don't know. I guess I didn't like them enough."

"Or was it that they didn't like you, teacher?" You hated the sincerity of children.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful, everyone got to write their letters. Some wrote to their parents, some even to you! You loved your students too much!

All this letter business reminded you that you really should get rid of all those old letters. That would certainly be the first thing you did as soon as you got home.

After almost dying when you got home, you wanted to just throw yourself on the bed and forget all about today. But then you remembered the letters, and how you wanted to just set fire to them.

As soon as you went to look in your bag, you didn't find anything at first. It seemed strange, but you thought it might be at the bottom, or in the middle of a folder.

But after turning that bag upside down, none of your letters were there. None of them.

"Damn it! Shit! Where is it? Where is it?"

Desperation began to hit you. What if someone from school found and read everything you wrote when you were only 15 years old? Until a memory popped into your head.

Flashback on -

"Teacher!" Kenji, one of your students raised his hand.

"Yes, Kenji?" He looked at you with a smile, a smile you hated because you knew your own students so well.

"Why don't you send the letters you made years ago now?" He said almost innocently. Almost.

"Oh... because it's been a long time!" You said with a strange laugh.

"I could give them, teacher! Me and Kaito! We know how to get the letters to them!" He said, excitedly....

"Honey, don't make this stuff up! This is all in the past!"

"Then why do you still have it? If it was history you could have thrown it away." Sometimes you hated being a teacher of seven-year-olds.

"You're just going to do your activity, right? Forget it!"

"Right, teacher! I'll forget it."

Well, that's what you thought. That he would forget about it, but life has a strange way of messing up your life, doesn't it?

Flashback off -

"Bitch. Shit."

You realize what a fuck-up you've made by trusting your own students, how could you trust those little henchmen?

And worse. What would happen to the letters? What if they read them? What if they thought you were crazy and came to make amends? You certainly know exactly who in those four letters would do that.

But this was no time to freak out, you needed to calm down.

"SHIT!" Right. You were freaking out.

Tag List. @erisawrites @homeless-clown @mtsyik @kryscent @ita606 @babylambdietcoke

[pendingnomdeplume]

pairing: hozier x gn!reader rated: G

PROMPT: Cleaning the other person's lips with a lick and a kiss.

author's note: This was pre-written and is part of a backlog of items I still have from the previous blog. xoxo.

The warmth of a normally hidden sun and the humidity of the last few days’ rain bears down heavily on you as you walk alongside Andrew towards a cluster of shops not too far from his home. Some folks smile and nod pleasantly, while others ignore you both completely, too preoccupied with their own lives to even register the baby giraffe of a man you’re trying to keep up with. 

“It’s too hot for this,” you whine, fanning yourself with your hand dramatically despite it doing absolutely nothing for you. 

Andrew glances at you and smiles. Somehow, he’s still wearing his denim jacket despite the current conditions. You’re impressed by his determination to keep his body covered in spite of all common sense. 

“You’ll get your iced coffee, don’t worry,” he replies, smirking at your annoyed huff as you continue walking. 

The shop isn’t busy when you arrive, having just missed the morning rush of folks on their way to work. There’s a few customers scattered about, but they pay you no mind. The barista at the counter is chipper as you order, and soon you’re sipping on an iced mocha while Andrew drinks an iced black coffee on your way back to the house.

“You just don’t know joy,” you say when Andrew pulls a face at your drink and shakes his head. “Enjoy your bitter bean water.” 

“Can I try?” he asks. You nod and hold out your cup to him. Despite being in a relationship, he’s still courteous about straws and lifts the plastic lid to sip directly from the cup. When he pulls it away, a line of whipped cream rests on his top lip. “Yeah, that’s awful,” he says before taking another small sip just to irritate you. 

You roll your eyes and laugh. “Baby, you’ve got…” You gesture towards your own mouth, and Andrew tilts his head in faux confusion. 

“Hmm?” 

“Just there,” you say, and he wipes at his cheek, making you giggle again. “You’re being annoying. Come here.” 

You’re both stopped in the middle of the pavement, shrouded by dense foliage–a perfect cover for any prying eyes. You look quickly up and down the road and see nobody, so you lean up on your toes and pull him close. He inhales sharply as you swipe your tongue over his lip, and you can feel him smile as you punctuate the gesture with a kiss. When you pull away, his eyes are wide but sparkling with amusement. 

“And yet, you keep rewarding me for my annoying behavior,” he hums.

[daisymbin]

Hi!! Could I have 24 and 31 fluff with mingyu? 🥹🥹

I love your writing btw!! I look forward to each story 🥹🥹

thank you lovely!!! hopefully you enjoy this one too!! <3

full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // gyu's m.list

fluff prompt #24: "you’re the only person who knows how to make me smile like this." +

fluff prompt #31:"you’re like my personal sunshine."

mingyu sat on the couch, arms crossed, determined not to laugh. jeonghan, dokyeom, and joshua had pulled out every trick in the book—terrible impressions, absurd dance moves, and a variety of props that didn’t make sense. (why was dokyeom wearing a traffic cone on his head?)

but mingyu hadn’t cracked, not once. “you guys are terrible at this,” he said smugly.

jeonghan narrowed his eyes. “oh, you think you’re tough, huh? just you wait.” he turned toward the hallway and yelled, “we need backup!”

you peeked into the room, confused. “what’s going on?”

“mingyu’s trying to act all serious,” jeonghan explained, waving you in. “we need you to make him laugh. you’re the secret weapon.”

mingyu immediately smiled at the sight of you, the corners of his lips betraying him even before you stepped fully into the room.

you raised an eyebrow. “wait, did you already smile? i didn’t even do anything yet.”

“i didn’t smile,” mingyu lied, pressing his lips together and looking away.

“oh, he definitely smiled,” joshua said, grinning.

jeonghan clapped his hands together. “perfect. now, all you have to do is—”

“actually,” you interrupted, walking over and crossing your arms, “i don’t even need to try. i can just talk about the time mingyu cried because he thought his favorite hoodie shrunk in the wash.”

mingyu’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping “don’t!”

“oh, i have to,” you said, grinning as you turned to the others. “it was last winter. he came over in a full panic, holding the hoodie like it was a wounded animal, whining, ‘it’s ruined! my favourite hoodie is ruined!’”

joshua burst out laughing. “no way.”

“i was devastated!” mingyu defended, his voice getting higher.

“you didn’t even check the tag,” you continued, ignoring him. “i looked at it and told him it was one of those cropped hoodies. it wasn’t even shrunk.”

dokyeom fell over, clutching his stomach as he laughed. “he thought it shrunk?!”

“he tried to stretch it out!” you added, laughing now too. “he was literally pulling on it like it was gum, yelling, ‘why, why, why?!’”

mingyu groaned, burying his face in his hands. “you’re the worst.”

“oh, i’m not done,” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “remember the time you got stuck in the elevator because you hit every single button trying to be funny?”

jeonghan leaned forward. “wait, what happened?”

“he was trying to impress some kid who was in the elevator with him,” you explained. “he hit every button, and then the elevator got stuck between floors. he had to wait for maintenance to get him out. how embarrassing.”

by this point, mingyu had given up, laughing along with everyone else. “okay, okay, that’s enough!”

“oh no, we’re just getting started,” joshua said, wiping tears from his eyes.

mingyu shook his head, looking at you with mock betrayal. “i can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”

you shrugged innocently. “hey, you brought this on yourself. don’t challenge me if you’re not ready.”

he sighed dramatically but couldn’t hide the grin spreading across his face. “you’re seriously the only person who knows how to make me laugh like this.”

you paused, caught off guard by his tone. “mingyu…”

he smiled at you, the teasing gone from his expression. “i mean it. you’re like my personal sunshine.”

the room went quiet for a beat, the other three exchanging knowing looks.

“okay, that’s sweet and all,” jeonghan broke the silence, “but you still lost the game.”

mingyu rolled his eyes. “yeah, yeah, whatever.”

but as he looked back at you, his smile softened. “thanks for always knowing how to cheer me up, even if it’s at my expense.”

“anytime,” you said, grinning. “besides, you’re the easiest target.” as the laughter continued, mingyu couldn’t help but think that losing the game wasn’t so bad when it meant having you there to brighten his day.

[lazywitchling]

So here's the thing, right? I keep looking through my own blog going "Hey! Where's the witchy content?" (the-- the 'where's the cream filling' commercials? anyone? no? I'm just old? okay.)

I've made a few posts over the past little while that boil down to "blogging about witchery gets hard once it gets more specific". At some point, my craft got so personalized to me, interacting with my own familiar spirit, building my own astral space and figuring out a whole paradigm there about bridges and astral space and liminal space and imagination... there's just so much that I can't really *share* and have it applicable to anyone else but me, you know? So in a slow-but-steady snowball effect, I've wound up going pretty radio silent over here at lazywitchling dot tumblr dot com. I'm still witching in a way, but it's been a lot more reading and information gathering lately. Less active work and more passive learning.

It's hard to talk about the information gathering process, especially when a lot of that has moved offline. It was easy to share all the things I was learning when I was first starting out, because all the things I was learning came from here. It was easy enough to hit the reblog button, share a post to my blog, and tag it so I could find it again later. As a consequence, other people were able to find content through my blog too. But now I'm spending more time reading books offline, taking notes in a physical notebook, sitting quietly in the dark with my eyes closed having conversations with a spirit consisting of vague impressions and images, waving a pendulum at a dusty old building corner and asking The Thing That's There if it wants to stay or leave.

So what do I do about this radio silence? SHOULD I do anything about it? The other thing is that I've seen so so so many witches over the years of this webbed site just disappear, then come back years later with a lot of fanfare and "I'M BACK, BABY!" and then they just... stop posting again after a month. So something about making the big "I've decided to post more!" announcement just doesn't work. You gotta have reason to start posting more, not just the desire to, yaknow?

What do I talk about, then? Vague updates about the astral space I'm building? Perhaps a few more stories of the conversations with J (my familiar)? More vague updates of me screeching at witch books? (I know y'all love that last one!)

Something. idk what, but something.

Anyway. Hi. I'm Jes. It's short for Jester. How's it going?