#i am actively wanting this right now. take my fucking money for the love of god. how difficult does this need to be????

[lecliss]

Trying to make an hsr purchase and after like 10 minutes of trying to reset my paypal password and figuring out what fucking passwords the fucking playstation wants, I get all the way to the end and I just keep getting a fucking error message. So I try codashop and after getting that done it seems to just be in a perpetual state of payment pending and not actually doing anything and I don't know what any of this wants from me or if there's like a fucking issue with my area right now. Idk, but just let me make a fucking purchase you fucking bastards. This took literal seconds through the playstore. Fuck.

[bunny-jpeg]

Hi! Could I please ask for: mille-feuille + s'more + croissant + champagne + mai tai + tonic water... served by Carlos Sainz Jr for Toto Wolff's daughter? Btw, your writing is amazing, Bunny!

bakery menu!

want to submit your own order? hit up the menu, i'd love to hear from you. i am working on a ton of awesome things so please, feel free! thank you so much for everything that has been sent to me! and thank you to this lovely person for submitting an order! i love that you picked wolff!reader, something about that trope just gets to me every time, haha.

mille-feuille: “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” + s'more: "The accent gets to you, doesn't it?" + croissant: "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." + champagne: sugar daddy situation + mai tai: loss of virginity + tonic water: age gap served by carlos sainz jr. (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, wolff!reader, sugar daddy au, age gap (20/30), virgin!reader, loss of virginity, cowgirl position

toto wolff should've known. he prided himself on being a smart man, who was proactive with his career and always stayed on the ball. but formula one blinded him to the activities of his daughter. toto thought having you play assistant over the summer break would teach you a thing or two before you went back to university in the fall.

but you kept ending up in the ferrari garage more often than not.

your father should've also been looking at your bank account a little closer. you didn't work, so why were you making a considerable income? well it didn't come from toto wolff, but rather ferrari's driver, carlos sainz, number fifty-five.

"you don't have to stuff it in my bra like a stripper." you said as you watched him put them down your shirt. you caught a glimpse of a purple euro banknote and felt heat rise in your cheeks. carlos was not a light spender when it came to you.

"i thought you wanted to be covered in money. now i won't do that because it's dirty. but, knowing you'll go back to your father with my money in your pocket... i like the feeling." those big brown eyes stared at you with want.

it wasn't even a power thing, or even a sex thing. carlos liked being around you and maybe part of him enjoyed when you snuck off to the ferrari garage and out of your father's grasp, but besides he enjoyed your company. but tonight you were taking the next step.

you looked up at him from your spot on his hotel bed and asked, "are you trying to butter me up because we're going to have sex?"

he smiled, "there is not buttering up. no butter at all." the slipped the last bill, a crisp hundred, into the strap of our bra under your shirt sleeve. then patted your breast playfully.

you chuckled, "right." you two had been intimate in other ways. he had fingered you and ate you out. you gave him handjobs and sucked his cock. you've just never had penetrative sex. you were technically a virgin. which at first shocked carlos. but then he remembered who your father was. toto wolff wasn't letting his daughter go out clubbing in monaco, hence why you were in university in france. and even then, the team principal kept a keen eye out for you.

but tonight, you were all carlos'. so when you took your shirt off and exposed the bills in your bra. it made carlos smile. he was taking wolff's daughter's virginity. he showered you in affection and praise.

“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” he praised which made you shiver. his hands on your breasts as he groped them over your bra and the money. he could understand why toto was so protective of you.

"please, carlos."

he chuckled as he got you fully onto the bed before he took your bra off and admired your bare breasts. he grabbed the money off your heated chest, sweat making the bills cling to you. he placed it all on the nightstand for you to take home. made you look like a whore. but you were the furthest thing from that. you were carlos' lover. he admired you, "you're so beautiful. can't believe an old man like toto wolff had a hand in making something so pretty."

"carlos." you flushed.

he remarked, "the accent gets to you, doesn't it?" he got onto the bed with you and got you out of your pants. he admired your almost nude form, in just thin cotton panties. you watched him get undressed, his toned body revealed to you as he asked, "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

carlos was almost ten years older than you, raced for a rival team and above all else would never meet the standards your father had for a man that could be with you. not that you cared about what your father thought, you were an adult who could make your own choices.

you remarked, "i don't care if he knows. he needs to lose the grip on me. i'm almost done schooling, i have to live my life. and that's with you." you smiled a little when carlos got onto bed beside you. yu stroked his face lovingly.

"am i in that life?" he asked as he reached and stroked your hip lovingly.

"of course, where else would you be?" you asked as you cupped his face. you trailed your thumb across the side of his nose. you had to admit, you really liked his nose.

he smiled, "six feet under when your father finds out." his eyes went a little wide when you straddled his waist and splayed your fingers across his chest, "do you want me dead, beautiful?"

you laughed, "yes, i want my boyfriend dead." as you rubbed yourself up against his cock. you felt a smile pull at your lips as you braced yourself against him, "i want him six feet under in a pine box."

"well." he mused as he took you by the hips, "maybe to die by your hand would be worth it." then tensed up when you sank down on his cock. he shuddered a little and felt the pleasure bloom in his body. that felt good.

"like this?" you asked. you had ridden his thigh before. and you told him earlier that the only way you'd lose your virginity to him was if you had the control (sometimes you were painfully like your father).

carlos nodded almost dumbly as he held onto you tightly, "perfect. now you move as you like, this is about you." wasn't he just the sweetest? as if he wasn't taking the virginity of the daughter of a rival team principal.

you held onto his strong shoulders and moves your hips a little bit. you smiled down at him, especially when the pleasure made his expression changed. he looked handsome even when the pleasure made the heat bloom in his face, down his neck.

"fuck, honey." he said softly, "i know why wolff made sure you went to school far, far away from the paddock."

you leaned in and pushed hair out of your face before you kissed him on the lips, "i'm pretty sure if we met any sooner, you'd be next to a cradle robber. wouldn't look nice in the press." you could feel the blush high in your cheeks as you rode him. you could feel the pleasure down to your feet as you really worked his cock.

"i would've made sure that no one else could have you."

you smiled, "don't worry, you're the only one i've ever been with. at least this way." you rolled your hips, picking up momentum. the pace was a little messy, but carlos didn't mind.

he didn't mind at all, anything to make you happy. he held onto you and felt the heat rise further in his face. the blush almost stung. your cunt felt like euphoria, you were perfect. he said, "if i could give you my virginity, i would." he smiled at you, blush high in his cheeks.

you smacked his chest playfully, "ah, you flirt. it's a stupid construct anyway. but, if it's anything." you moved a little faster, "i would've happily taken your virginity."

he chuckled and smacked your ass, "i knew you were going to say that." and then took you by the face with one hand and pressed hot kisses against your heated face. you moaned a little bit as you continued to ride him.

the pleasure soon became overwhelming for the both of you. you moaned a little louder, your back arched a little further and the kissed became heavier. the pleasure was felt between you two are you really worked your hips against him. you held onto him tightly and grit your teeth as you rode him. the pleasure throbbed in your brain as with a few more quick thrusts you finished, which made you moan loudly and tense up.

you kissed him while he held onto your hips. he worked your cock in the areas that made you squirm further. it was painfully hot for the both of you, the two of you made out deeply as his hands gripped you tightly. he yearned for your closeness and it didn't take long before his thrusts became harder and faster, and with that he came inside of you as he pressed a hot kiss against your lips.

you both slowed to a stop and the kisses continued. you ended up on your back with him on top of you. his cock hard once more and right up against your soaked cunt.

"i don't think your father would mind if you went back to your hotel a little late?" he suggested, his hands braced on either side of you. his smile was intoxicating.

you reached up to him, like you were reaching for the sun and pulled your lover close. you kissed him on the lips then said, "i guess. but you better make me finish first." and carlos just beamed at you <3

[trippinsorrows]

ltye: in your hands

authors note: welp. here i am, once again. we're back with yet another 'what if' scenario, prompted by you lovely people in an ask that i can't seem to find to link right now. smh.

words: 3.3k

warnings: none. just sam being sam.

song inspo: in your hands by halle

Roman should have stuck with his first mind. Stayed home. Texted her some excuse about being caught up with work. She would have never found out the truth, and even if she did, he wouldn’t have given two fucks. 

Because this shit doesn’t seem to be getting any better. 

This dating thing. 

It’s gotta be at least the fifth or sixth one he’s taken her on, and each one has been just as miserable up until the point where he gets her on her knees, gagging or bouncing on his dick the minute they get back to his penthouse. Anything before that has been irksome, borderline miserable. 

Samantha is stunning. Has been since they were kids, and her body is the most desirable of the women he has on his roster. She leans on the thinner side of what he prefers, but the tits and ass are decent, regardless. She’s also just as kinky as him, which is why they’ve worked all these years.

But, the more “dates” Roman forces himself to power through, the more he’s starting to feel like bedroom activities is where it stops for them. 

Technically, he’s always known this. Even if he did have some level of desire to be in a real relationship with someone, which he doesn't, it would never be her. She’s vain, condescending, and seems to think she’s somehow better than the other women he fucks with.

If only she realized he views her just like he views the rest of the women. A warm body with a wet cunt to help him get his dick wet. 

“Roman!” Her voice cuts through his inner dialogue as he focuses on her cleavage. The dress she wore, short and tight, doesn’t help his desire to skip to the fucking part of this evening. “Did you hear what I said?”

“No.” Roman sees no sense in lying to her. “I probably don’t care either.”

She rolls her eyes and proceeds to continue like he literally didn’t just tell her he doesn’t care. “I was saying we should go somewhere.”

He’s partially intrigued now. Mostly because he’ll probably need to set her ass straight. “Where?”

She smiles and shrugs. “I don’t know. I was thinking Bora Bora.”

He shakes his head. “So go.”

She frowns, clarifying. “I said we should go, Roman.”

He scoffs, looking off at the ice sculpture in the middle of the upscale restaurant. A waste of money, in his opinion. “What the hell makes you think I have time to go to fucking Bora Bora with you?” He really wants to ask her what makes her think he would want to in the first place, but he’s trying to be somewhat less of an asshole to see if maybe this could work.

His Wise Man’s nervous voice balanced out with sage wisdom returning to the front of his mind.

“If the Elders are to force you into a marriage, why not with someone you already know? Especially someone who you know would have no issue in giving you an heir.”

If only Samantha wasn’t so fucking annoying.

She leans back in the chair. “You make time for these dates.”

Out of obligation. But, he won’t say that. “Yeah, but I can get my nut and send your ass packing in the same night. Can't do that if we're out of the fucking country.”

“You’re suck a di—”

“I’m so sorry.”

Soft. It’s the first thing that comes to mind hearing her voice. Light, almost. Kind. Even with just three words being spoken. And that’s just based off audio. Visually, Roman’s thoughts take an entirely different direction.

Stunning. 

Roman’s seen, entertained, and done a lot more with some beautiful women in his time, but the one standing at their table seems to have something more than all of them put together. She’s beautiful, easily one of the most gorgeous women he’s ever laid eyes on. And her smile, small but genuine makes him pause. As does her body.

She’s wearing the same uniform he’s noticed on the other waitresses, but none of them fill them out like she does. The white, long sleeved shirt that’s tucked into the knee length black pencil skirt can’t hide the curves he can practically see through the bland outfit. Nice, heavy breast. Curvy hips, thick thighs and an ass he can partially see from the front. 

This. This is his preferred body type. A woman who has something he can grab onto when he’s fucking her from behind. And Roman can only imagine what it would be like to be holding onto those luscious hips of hers while he—

“Oh my god, are you stupid?” Samantha’s annoying voice once again pulls him from his carnal fantasies. She gestures between herself and him. “Can you not see we’re in the middle of something?”

The girl, who Roman would guess is in her late twenties, early thirties at most, immediately looks repentant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—I was just going to apologize for your wa—”

“Whatever.” Samantha lifts her hand, silencing the girl who’s now looking down at her shoes, clearly embarrassed. “What’s the special for this evening?”

“What’s your name?” Roman’s question comes out at the same time as Samantha’s inquiry. However, his voice clearly presents with more of a commanding nature. 

She swallows. “S–Solana.”

Pretty. Just like her. 

Samantha notices the way Roman is looking at her and is fully confused as to why he’s asking this fat troll for her name. She cuts in again, in that same nasty tone. “Hello? I asked you a question.” 

Solana is clearly struggling with Samantha’s aggressiveness, Roman wondering why this bitch is directing whatever unresolved feelings she has onto this innocent girl. “Umm, I think—”

Samantha scoffs, nose turned up. “You’re our waitress, and you don’t even know what the evening special is?”

“No ma’am, I do. I’m sorry. It’s just—it’s been a long day.” There’s a weight to her words, a sadness in her voice and in her pretty brown eyes. Roman notices all of these things and finds himself wondering what the story is. Everyone has one, and hers is suddenly of interest to him. For reasons he cannot understand. 

“Pretty unprofessional to bring up your personal life, don’t you think?”

Solana closes her eyes, pausing before answering. She looks exhausted. Mentally and physically. “It’s Squab. That’s the main co—”

“I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat.” Roman rolls his eyes. This hoe has been saying that since they were in high school, yet every so often she goes back to having a normal fucking diet only to switch back to that salad shit. “What’s on your—”

“I’ll do us both a favor and get her to shut the fuck up.” Roman has had enough, both of Samantha’s grating voice but mostly her being a bitch to this girl for no reason. He’s a dick on the regular. He knows this. But, never has he come across someone like this Solana woman who, with just her presence alone, exudes such softness. Like, she doesn’t have a mean bone in her fine ass body. And she clearly doesn’t because anyone else would have probably lost their job by cussing Samantha out. Not that it wouldn’t be deserved.

Roman catches the faintest hint of a smile on Solana’s face as she redirects her attention to him. “Give her the salmon. I’ll take your best steak. For wine, you carry Madeira?” 

She’s pulled out her notepad and finishes taking down the order before answering with a nod. “Yes, sir.”

Roman’s jaw clenches at that sir bit. He could ruin this girl. “What do you recommend?”

She’s visibly taken back by his question, probably by the fact that he’s asking her for her opinion. “Umm—”

“Roman, I can rec—”

“I didn’t ask you,” he cuts that bitch off with the quickness, eyes never leaving the pretty girl before him. “I asked Solana.”

Her smiles widens as she answers in a more confident tone. “Julio Barros…..1950.”

Roman smirks. 

Exactly what he was going to order.

“I’ll take it.”

Their gazes linger on each other a second too long for Samantha’s liking as she cuts in once once more. “You can go now.”

Solana’s smile drops again, Roman suddenly finding himself all annoyed. Her smile is something pretty that he wouldn’t mind seeing more of, though that irritation is waned as he’s granted the view of her nice, round ass and curvy hips swaying as she walks to the back to turn in their order.

Samantha reaches over and touches his hand, Roman snatching it back and sneering at her. “What?”

She sighs. “Baby, I’m trying to talk about us.”

And just like that, he’s annoyed all over again. “There is no us.”

Samantha looks sad only for a brief second. “Roman, I’m not stupid. I know what these dates have been for. You’re trying to see if it could work.”

“If what could work?”

“Us.” She goes on to share. “There’s rumors that the Elders have been putting more pressure on you to settle down and make an heir.” Sam leans over the table, intentionally trying to emphasize her cleavage. It’s nice. He’ll give her that. But, he’s certain it’s nothing compared to Solana though and those big breast of her hers. “I can do that for you. Be that for you. Be your wife. The mother of your children.”

Not a damn thing she’s saying sounds even the least bit desirable. At all. 

“I mean, we’ve been fucking around since we were kids. Why not make it official?”

For a lot of reasons. All the reasons. The main one being Roman don’t like this bitch unless she’s choking on or riding his dick. 

What he does like, however, and finds solace in is the interactions with Ms. Solana as the evening goes on. They’re not very often outside of her bringing the bottle of wine and their food when it’s ready as well as a check-in here or there on how they’re doing.

Each time Samantha sending her the dirtiest look or just being an ol’e nasty bitch, to which Roman shuts down, cutting her off and even telling her to shut the fuck up.

The girl is just trying to do her damn job. And as his eyes locate and land on her on several different occasions, he can see that she works hard. Moving from table to table, almost saddened facial expression indicates she’s on the receiving end of more verbal lashings from people like Samantha.

That actually pisses him off, Roman having to control and stop himself from doing some out of pocket shit. 

Again, for what reason, he hasn’t the slightest clue. He just knows those brief glimpses of her actually smiling, usually when she’s chatting with a coworker, do something for him. 

Maybe even to him. 

And unbeknownst to him, the intrigue goes both ways, because as shitty a day Solana Miller was having, the handsome stranger with the rude girlfriend or wife or whatever has somehow, someway made this day just a little bit better.

It’s been some time, if ever, Solana has come across someone with such a presence about them. Him dining at this uppity restaurant she was able to score a job at tells her that he’s wealthy. His disposition and the fact that he somehow secured it to where the surrounding tables of where he sits have been marked as unavailable tells her that he has pull. But, the way he interacts with her, a literal nobody, she’s not sure what that means.

Especially with the beautiful woman he’s with, because while Solana thinks she’s every bit a bitch as most of the women who come into this place, she’s a stunning bitch. 

Which is why Solana can’t allow herself to believe that that equally beautiful looking man is looking at her in any sort of capacity. 

There’s no way in he—

“Solana.”

And just like that, she's frowning again. “Mami?”

The last thing she expected to see this evening was the sight of her mother, already dressed in her scrubs, baby in her arms. 

Solana’s baby. 

Her 11-month–old daughter, Soraya. 

The shock wears off as Nina gets closer, Solana shaking her head, “what are you—”

Nina shakes her head, face apologetic and tone contrite. “I’m so sorry, baby, but I got called into work. I can’t watch Raya.”

Shit

It's inconvenient, but Solana understands it. She remembers the countless times Nina had no other option but to leave her with a neighbor after being called into work at all kinds of hours. She’s always worked so hard to take care of the two of them when Solana was growing up. 

“It’s okay, mama.” Solana easily reaches for her daughter, a wave of relief and happiness washing over her as she holds and kisses her baby. The source of all her joy. All of the struggle, every bit of it, is worth it as long as she has her daughter. She’d do anything for her. “How was she?”

Nina gives a small chuckle. “She’s like you were and still are. An easy child.” Solana kisses Soraya’s temple. “Sol…..” And just like that, Solana already knows she’s probably not going to like what she’s about to hear. “I know you’ve said you don’t want to go after him for child support, but it’s not fair for you to be out here working two jobs while putting yourself through school to take care of his child.”

Solana holds Soraya just a smidge tighter. “She’s my baby, mami.” 

Nina counters. “She’s his biological child.” Solana looks away, hopeful her manager, Aldis, doesn’t come out and scold her for this little interaction. She’s scheduled to clock out in another half hour anyway. “He should be paying you child support.”

Her mom is right. Solana knows this, knows that it’s not fair for her to have to be the sole provider for her baby girl, while Cruz lives his best life as an absentee, deadbeat dad. And she’s considered on several occasions going to the courthouse to see what she needs to do to get that ball rolling. 

But, every time, she’s haunted by something he said the last time they spoke, not even a month after her daughter was born. 

“Don’t you get it? We were fine before she came in the picture! We could be fine again if she wasn’t.”

Solana’s never been more disturbed than she was to hear those words leave his mouth. That’s why she’s glad he’s gone, that he wants nothing to do with her or his child. Because she would never trust to leave her baby girl with him in the first place.

And if that means she does it without him contributing financially, that’s exactly what she’ll do. 

Solana shifts Soraya from one hip to the other. “I don’t need him, mami.” And she doesn’t. Because if Solana had to resort to sex work to take care of herself and her daughter, it’s exactly what she’d do.

Nina gives a heavy sigh. “Mija, you know I help you when I can.”

“I know.” Because she does. But, the same way that times are hard for her. They’re hard for her mom, too. Everyone’s struggling these days, it seems. Everyone except the rich people who wine and dine without a care in the world around them. “I’ll be okay.”

Always will be.

Nina gives a knowing nod, hugging her daughter and gently taking her granddaughter’s hand, kissing it, speaking in Spanish. “I’ll see you later, okay? Abuela loves you.”

Solana smiles. “Thanks, mama.”

“Always, baby.” 

Nina reaches Solana the diaper bag, Solana placing it on the bar stool, knowing it’s bound to be left alone. These rich ass people would never bother with the Ross purchase. With a final parting smile, Nina is off to the hospital, leaving Solana with her daughter who’s just now waking up.

“Hi, baby girl,” Solana giggles at the almost cranky expression on her baby’s face. Raya is definitely not the happiest camper when being woken up. 

A glance at the time reminds Solana that she technically is still on the clock and really shouldn’t have her child with her. But, with no other option, she accepts she’ll just have to clock out early and take whatever those consequences are.

But before that, the least she can do is grab the bill from the table where the handsome stranger and his girlfriend sat. She’s briefly disappointed to see the table empty, even if she remembers his deep voice thanking her for her assistance this evening as she brought them that same check earlier. 

It’s a silly thing, really. And she tries to push away the disappointment at not properly telling him goodbye. A stranger. 

Silly.

Soraya grasps at the collar of her shirt while Solana walks over to the table, pausing as she gets close enough to see that there’s more than just a bill with a signature. There’s cash. A stack of it. Money in hand, she’s confused, because this man paid with a black card, so what—

“Good.” 

Solana gaps and spins around, her eyes widening as she looks up. He’s a lot taller than she realized, burly body nearly eclipsing her view of anything else, silky black hair in such a neat, perfect bun. “Wanted to make sure you got it.”

Brows furrowed, it’s hard for her to speak for a lot of reasons. One of which is the fact that this man cannot be real. A man cannot be this handsome. But, he is real, and he’s looking at her.

And Soraya. 

“I—” She shakes her head, clearing her throat. “Is this—you already paid—”

“That’s not for the bill,” his voice is so velvety, smooth, and deep. “It’s your tip.”

Eyes widening, her gaze snaps to the wad of cash as Soraya continues to grasp and squeeze her shirt. She doesn’t even need to count to know that this is a nice amount of money. 

Too much.

“I can’t—it’s too much.” 

He chuckles, “do I look like I can’t afford it?” Her eyes roam over his big, muscular build dressed in fine, expensive looking clothes. He just oozes wealth. 

And power. 

“N–no.”

“Dealing with Samantha, trust me, you earned it.” Solana looks down, wanting to hide her small smile. His gaze redirects to the child in her arm. “Who is this?”

And just like that, Solana’s proud smile returns. “My daughter, Soraya.” It’s like Soraya knows she’s being discussed, lifting her little head to look at Roman. A big grin on her face before she buries her face into Solana’s neck. 

Roman makes a sound, and she can almost swear she sees the smallest smile on his handsome face. “She looks like you.”

That creates such a warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach, “thank you…..”

He looks at her a bit confused, like her unspoken question surprises him, before answering. “Roman.” Roman. “Roman Reigns.”

Roman Reigns. Even his name is powerful.

It fits him.

Solana shifts Soraya around as she starts to get wiggly in her arms. “Well, thank you, Mr. Reigns.” She’s certain the shock of just how much money this random, rich stranger has given her hasn’t truly set in. Because if it had, she’d have a much more visceral response. 

A lot more.

“Roman,” he corrects. “Call me Roman.” 

“Roman….” 

Something indecipherable flashes in his eyes, something that makes her feel a bit unnerved under his intense stare. It’s broken, however, by her now irritated daughter.

“Mama.” Soraya makes her dissatisfaction at being still for too long known by punching her tiny fist against Solana’s chest. “Mama!”

“Shhhhh,” Solana kisses her temple, trying to quiet her down before someone makes Aldis aware of her presence. She looks at Roman, eyes softening, “thank you again.”

Truly. Honestly. He hasn’t the slightest clue how much this will help her. It’s why she can stand here without anxiety and concern about making it to the bus stop on time. Tonight.....tonight she’ll treat herself and her baby with calling an Uber instead. 

Might even stop and pick up dinner.

Roman nods, eyes briefly glancing at her daughter again, the smallest smile on his face. “I’ll see you later, Solana.” His head dips a bit in acknowledgment towards her baby. “Soraya.”

The smile is plastered on her face even as he walks off without another word. And it’s only a good two minutes later that she catches onto what he said. A certain word in particular standing out the most. 

What did he mean by later?

[simpjaes]

One of my fav enha writers elix8r on here just announced that they were leaving and it just made me so sad to see someone leave due to people not appreciating their work and it made me think of you and how you’re literally one of my only fav writers who haven’t left this site and I hope you never do cause ily so much and I was wondering how we could show you more appreciation for giving us amazing fics? Like I know you’re loved by so many people and get good numbers on notes but still like I don’t want to lose you too so lmk if there’s anything else we can do for you to make you know we appreciate everything you put out here 🥺

; - ; time for transparency, and a HUGE rant. But first, thank you so much, im so honored you said this to me <3

there are plenty of ways you can support me! For instance, i do have a patreon set up for eventual writing [which will still be posted here too for the most part], that won't happen until i have more time outside of school. I also do have cash app! Which i prefer over ko-fi because i don't like my personal information shown ;-; you can ask me for my cash app tho!

Other ways include simply telling me how my fics make you feel, or if you like them. You are never obligated to tip me money for what I write, and i will alwwwaaays want feedback and reblogs!

that being said: am i leaving tumblr?

I've been weighing my thoughts lately, and i've boiled it down that i really don't know how I feel about being here after I started writing four years ago. I don't like the way people feel entitled to access my life, and who I am. [remember that blog who posted my selfies, and other writer's selfies just so people could see it? without our consent? example number 2398749382, truly]

I don't like the cliques [even if we all end up in one whether intentional or not, some of you are just fucking mean], i don't like the moral police, i don't like the performative activism, i don't like the copying even if on a tiny level, i don't like how people treat me like a celebrity. I don't like how I can't monitor closely for underage people who should not ever be looking at my blog, let alone reading work that i did NOT write for them. the main thing though, really is the entitlement from people, and the blatant nasty intentions a lot of people have here, especially between writers.

It's unbearable sometimes.

Every day, i have to be talked out of deleting both of my blogs and writing elsewhere specifically for the freedom to stop walking on egg shells. Then again, some days, like today, i like it here.

So, while I was recently just waiting to absolutely disappear without a word here, today I feel good. Today, I feel like staying wouldn't be too awful.

I just want to make something clear to people while I'm talking about it. If i stay here, i will never care so deeply about fan fiction, or people's opinions on it outside of feedback on my work. I care about it as a creative process, and a skill to be learned, that's it. I do not care what other people read, i do not care what they write, i don't care who jerks off to what. I will never, fucking ever take fan fiction so seriously that I feel hatred towards another person. unless it involves minors/underage people, of course. that's entirely different for me personally. For the most part, i genuinely only care about what I'm doing and what i can do better.

If i stay, i need people to stop expecting me to be a spokesperson on literally anything and everything. I am a person who is genuinely struggling just to get out of bed. I am a person who is studying and doing home work more than I would be working if I had a full time job right now. I do not have time or energy to care deeply the way others do, and even if I did have that time and energy, i put it on things i love. Like writing my own fics and not giving a fuck about what anyone else is doing.

This blog is my space. It's my world. I'm sick of expectations for me to make it anything more than what it is: a goddamn kpop smut blog.

This website is excruciating to open sometimes. but on days like today, i really appreciate it and love it here.

I will stay for now, but don't be shocked if, in the future, i leave without even saying my goodbyes. I have things outside of this blog that matter to me, and I will never let myself feel unhappy doing something i love, that's more for me than any other person in this world who wants to scream their opinions.

**edit 11/20** and with the AI apocalypse apparently happening here, it really does feel like....bad to be here. i don't want people who don't write to put themselves on the same level as real writers. y'know, the ones who put love and effort into their work. It's very upsetting to see the amount of people who don't care if it's being used.

especially like....knowing those fics get hella interaction because it seems readers, even if they don't know it, seem to value false writing over very real writing. oof. anyway

as long as my writing stays fun and positive, i will be staying.

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

I’m an OG fan. I ship L/H but how ships are meant to be - your fave pairing, fun, fantasy, fandom activity, not something to discuss publicly much less with the celebs - but I never interacted much in fandom bc I disliked the bizarre obsession with ships being “real”. The “truth” of their sex/love lives is none of our business & was never their value to me. (i’d be much more interested in the truth about their friendships/coworker dynamics but we’ll never get it.) I drifted from the fandom when they went solo bc I saw how Harry was “Timberlake’ing”. No one seemed to see how calculated & ruthlessly ambitious he is, vapid, & fame obsessed. how he only befriends/dates rich, well-connected people. It’s refreshing to learn that blogs like yours exist - that people see him & see what he did to the other guys. Zayn, Louis, Liam - were all at times villainized and scapegoated while he’s treated like a naive princess who can do no wrong. His interviews are so pointless bc he never answers anything honestly. he’d never admit to being a cokehead who purposely deceived & fucked over the others to make sure he could launch his solo career without competition. Zayn tried to outmaneuver him but didn’t have the powerful team behind him & has too much integrity to ever be the kind of “star” Harry is. tbh I enjoy how much it irks harry that Zayn sees through him. It’s wild how sincere the others stayed, how they matured, how they have bigger priorities than money or fame. Harry mimicked Louis’ personality when they were younger, pretending he couldn’t wait to have kids & marry - when really he just wanted to be as rich, promiscuous, and famous as humanly possible. He bootlicks anyone in showbiz, so he has a glowing reputation in the industry - it’s laughable. “TPWK” unless it’s your bandmates who you can’t deign to acknowledge unless it benefits you - hosting SNL or winning an award? ok, mention the band so you get headlines. But like one of their promo posts or even follow them back on IG? heaven forbid, bc that won’t benefit him more than them. It shows his true character that he’s SO successful but still won’t be openly supportive or even seen with them. I don’t think he’s evil but I do think he’s lost to the industry… which is sad, bc there’s once a lot of sweetness there. His eyes have lost their sparkle; he traded it for “success”.

Hi anon,

I was reading this ask and nodding my head right along each sentence. A lot to unpack here, but mostly you’ve said everything I’ve tried to say. I’m not sure if anyone is listening, to be honest! Like you wrote, blogs who don’t worship Harry never become popular. So here I am talking to the air lol. Insanity.

I don’t think Harry is evil either. I think he realizes the trade-offs now, watching his ex-bandmates’ careers slowly build with intentions very different from his, their old ties fading to nothing except when tragedy yokes them back together. He has gazillions in wealth, industry kissing his feet, a lot of women (+ a few men) fantasizing about him, but nothing inside, the lights gone from his eyes years ago. It must feel awkward to stand next to his bandmates again?

Here’s the thing. I’m sure in every circumstance, forever for the foreseeable future, Louis is always going to be the bigger man and speak well of Harry. No matter how many times Louis refutes the idea of Larry, Louis has always said he’s proud of Harry, and I am sure he means it. 100%. No matter what Harry says or does, Louis considers him part of One Direction, his band, and that concept is sacrosanct to him. “We move as one.”

What Louis has in his heart is worth a million Manchester Co-ops. It is priceless. No one can take it away— no Kardashian money, no Rolling Stone cover, no Anna Wintour, no A-list actress or acting role. Nothing. What Louis has is the feeling of loyalty and unity that is the epitome of the song he wrote, Strong. “I don’t care, I’m not scared of love.” It’s not romantic love, at least not anymore, but what Louis describes in Only The Brave— the love that comes from the deepest pain, from uncomfortable truths, alienation, grief— broken beaks and dead birds— the love that requires moral courage. “Because love is only for the brave.” Louis earned it by going through fire, the love that endures because he chose to respect it, intentionally, over all the other things.

Last, Zayn’s intentionality is also transparent for those who open their eyes and see. I’m glad to see that Zayn is touring, and choosing to play the same smaller venues as Louis when he first started his tour. I’m also glad to see Louis communicating via social media. It’s not actual friendship, but a step! It means so much.

Louis and Zayn aren’t perfect people— far from it— but they chose to stay grounded and chose to preserve some part of their humanity. I know they haven’t always been their best selves. But who they are, especially who Louis is, is so endearing, and so inspiring.

[khuzena]

12:59

| Michael Kaiser x g/n!reader

summary: everyone in life comes and goes, but sometimes he wishes you stayed; but it's too big of a request to ask.

Warning: toxic rs,no happy ending, cry bitches. Angst, Angst, Angst. (Cheating again because this man is the reddest, crimson flag ever)

A/n: was writing this in school, no activities for the entire day so i was writing this. (This is so cringe oh my god i swear I'll write fluff next time what character do you guys want as long as it aint barou because idk how to write him..)

It sometimes gets too hard to breathe at night.

There are times where he'd find solace in your embrace, you've made home in his heart and you know.

The cupid to your psyche, the romeo to his juliet. So tempting yet so dangerous.

Trust, such a simple thing yet so hard to keep and attain. Something he's won from you years ago yet he lost instantly.

A prodigy as he, the loyal man he used to be.

Rainy days like these you'd find yourself in his well-sculpted arms, inhaling his scent and his kisses marking you his.

Two weeks before the fallout, he's been a distant man, eyes filled with disdain for you and you don't know why. Just a month ago there were flowers on your doorstep, a genuine compliment through text and light kisses pressed on your forehead here and there.

Though recently, he's been looking at you with such hate in his eyes, like you ruined his life— like you're the reason you brought pain and suffering in his world. Why?

There you were, sitting at the marble kitchen island and eating some fresh fruits while watching a boring show on your phone.

Kaiser walked past you as he grabbed an energy drink from the fridge, not even sparing you a single glance.

"Hey, love." You said smiling, nervously fidgeting your fingers under the table.

Kaiser rolled his eyes before looking at you with such disgust. Was your hair really that unkempt? Did your acne come back again? Was he no longer attracted to you? Or was it because he's found someone else. You don't know but these questions spiral in your brain, wondering, asking where you went wrong.

"Hey." He replied, the irritation in his voice was too obvious.

"Can we talk?"

If anyone could see you right now they would compare you to a homeless man asking for scraps or spare change. But at least a hobo has more dignity than you.

Like a broke man begging for money and food to survive, you're pleading, throwing away all your dignity— if you even had any left; begging for a tiny speck of his attention. Some answer, some closure for why he's been treating you like this.

"I don't have time for that and you know it, I have a game again next week in france. Let's talk next time when I have the time"

Confusion and anger boiling in you at this point, what do you mean he has no time for a simple conversation? When he has all the time in the world to do stupid shit without you when he's actually free.

"What the fuck? You barely have any fucking time for me."

He stared down at you with a blanm expression, it was irritating how he wasn't even taking you seriously.

He didn't say a word before walking away to the comfort of his room.

A week later he came home.

It was 12:59 am.

A knock on your door disturbed the peace in the living room, you made your way to the main door. Sighing with relief that it was him, that he got home safely from whatever team party he attended.

"'M sorry…"

Your eyes widened, the moment you opened the door he lunged himself at you; his grip as he hugged you not loosening.

"What happened to you, micha?..."

The smell of alcohol getting on you, the red lipstick stains on his blouse and how pathetically dishevelled that man was.

The sight took your ability to speak away for a moment. You've never expected this, he told you earlier that he'd just be drinking with his team but to go as far as this?

"Don't touch me."

Kaiser tightened his grip, the shame on his face says it all. He's never cried this hard before as his tears soaked your shirt, "Liebling.."

"I said go away." Venom dripped from your voice, causing him to flinch in his very drunk state.

A loud thud can be heard throughout the house as he fell on his knees, like the shameless bastard he is, he cried, "I still love you", "I won't do it again I promise", "You're everything, please, schatz"

The next day, he was lying on the couch. His bags being too dark one could mistake him for a panda.

Even though his stomach is growling loudly, vomit bubbling in his throat or face dried with tears he couldn't help but just wail.

Hands trembling as he looked to the alarm clock to his left, 12:59 pm. Kaiser's legs wobbled as he checked every room, looking for a sign you were there but no.

"Liebling! Please, please. Where are you?"

His voice echoed in the walls of his apartment but there was no one who answered back.

Kaiser's lost you and it's all his fault yet he wailed pathetically on the floor, holding on to the railings of his stairs like someone took you away from him.

As time passed by, he's lost count of the days he's skipped training. His hunger being his least concern even though he barely eats nowadays as he spends most of his time staring at the ceiling.

Wishing for a miracle, wishing that god hears his prayer for one last time.

In this time of deep depression his spotify playlist has become his friend, his pillow being the tissue for his tears and the sheets crumpled from his thrashing around the bed.

kaiser: please come abck

kaiser: back***

kaiser: please

kaiser: please

kaiser: i love you

kaiser: liebling

kaiser: liebling lets talk

kaiser: please.

*seen*

It's hopeless.

No matter how many times he blew up your phone with calls and texts you never answered. Though you never even blocked him too.

It was that time again, he called you again. Screen stained with tears as his eyes sparkled with hope when you finally picked up.

"Liebling, im sorry, im sorry."

The call was still on but he could only hear your heavy breathing, his breath hitched as he shakily held his phone to his ear.

"I know my sorrys won't change anything, but I still love you."

"I can't live without you"

"You're my everything."

"Please."

Please.

Still not a single word from you, he plopped down on his bed as he stared into nothing again in his empty room.

"Michael, stop."

He clutched his phone to his chest as he sobbed quietly, making sure you didn't hear him.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Stop apologising, Michael," you let out a sigh, "let's break up"

"Yeah, sure. Good night"

The call ended right then and there.

Kaiser kept replaying your voicemails over and over again. His nerves calmed down for a bit until the reality set in, he'd never hear your voice again.

There will no longer be any you standing outside the door with your arms wide open to congratulate him on his win or a lover he'd call his. The person he vowed to love and protect forever, gone.

And it's all his fault.

For one last time, he checked his phone as he saw a notification on his lock screen. The bright light almost blinded him.

love: i know you're still awake

love: go to sleep

*sent 12:59 am*

He sighed, putting away his phone and staring at the clock.

"Yeah, maybe it is getting late"

Note: we js had a halloween party 2 days ago, cosplayed as krul, had so much fun. °^°>🍦. I'll stop writing for kaiser i swear im js obsessed w him :((( (this fic not proofread m sorryyy)

[vladdyissues]

so i've mentioned before how i think reign storm made vlad want danny's babies and i feel like you might like what i'm getting at when i expand on it because i am drawin' on ALL the lore for that headcanon

so in season 1, we absolutely got the arc that Vlad had a bit more in common with Jack than he wanted to admit (interests, skill, the ability to hyperfocus until the ectofilter makes their house explode), and that he was desperate for people to love him but unwilling to see them clearly enough to actually love them--he would happily sand off any traits incompatible with his vision, before accepting them as-is. he especially wants to sand off all the traits in danny he associates with Jack

if their relationship had changed in s1, it would be badger cereal all the way down for me. you could not get me to romantically ship it again, even with the chemistry, for love nor money. but it didn't

and then we got Reign Storm in S2

where we got to see vlad and danny being their most sincere and straightforward around each other. vlad was sincerely a magnificent bastard and danny was sincerely not putting up with his shit, but they're so much of their authentic selves only around each other. vlad still wants danny to be his son, to be influenced by him... up until the Pariah Dark fight

i am 100% certain he never meant for Danny to win there. he was waiting for Danny to wear Pariah down and pass out where Vlad could take his place in the suit and win, getting the credit AND the kudos for saving Danny. but that's not what happened

Danny, a younger, weaker, still half-mortal being in a suit actively draining him managed to win against Pariah Dark, who was so powerful it took multiple implied gods to seal him away the first time. all without Vlad having a single moment of true, lasting influence on him. and my theory...

is Vlad's ghost instincts saw this, finally saw Phantom as his own unrelated entity, and went "THIS ONE. MAKE BABIES WITH THIS ONE. LOCK HIM DOWN NOW, HE IS GOING TO BE A LEGEND"

(and so we get Dan and Dani in the same season)

and in every episode after, it is clear Maddie takes a backseat to Danny for him. he doesn't even plot the murder of Jack in any real way until the series finale. his focus is 100% on Danny and making his own Danny using the original Danny and/or putting Danny in a submissive/pliant position

i don't think he's consciously aware of any of this. or, if he is, he hates that he's thinking that way about someone nearly thirty years his junior. but i do think there's a hell of a story in half-ghost instincts being misinterpeted between the two halves of themselves and having to adapt to being their own, separate entity from humans OR ghosts

and that is my comprehensive explanation as to why I headcanon Reign Storm made Vlad's metaphorical ovaries start screaming for his attention

OH.

Shit. That's perfect.

Of course Vlad would wait until absolutely necessary to jump in and deliver the coup de grâce to Pariah. (Let the pawn sacrifice himself, do all the work, King takes credit, etc.) But the pawn... held his own?? The pawn fucking put that thing back where it came from or so help me?? By this time Vlad would surely know how to spot a good investment, and I just know the inside of his head sounded like hitting the jackpot at a Vegas casino when he saw Danny put the smack down.

Is there such a thing as Investments to Lovers? Arranged (Baby) Carriage?

Another thing you're absolutely right about is how Vlad's obsession with Maddie dropped off immediately after Reign Storm. Excepting Phantom Planet, naturally.

I love this meta. It's pure rocket fuel.

[dragonmaiden39point5]

No Escape (1)

Been working on this for months, was a one shot but now it's not. Lol. As usual hope you enjoy.

All characters depicted are over the age of 18.

Summary: You grow tired of Bakugo's bad behavior and after 4 years as a couple, you make a run for it.

Katsuki Bakugo x Black!Reader

Darkfic. Stalking, humiliation, dub-con, mild Daddy!kink. Potentially some untagged triggers.

@palettesofrenaissance as requested I am tagging you on my first part!

The stars had abandoned the sky, leaving the night black as pitch. The bladed edge of the cold air sliced at your ashen skin as you shuffled through woods. Here amongst the silent, barren trees, you were safe-- Far from the disaster of turbulence that was your relationship.

Katsuki was not right for you, a fact that you realized all too late after you were already involved. He didn't come on super strong when he first asked you out; He honestly had behaved as if he could've cared less if you were interested. However, within weeks of that first date, he was blowing up your phone with calls and texts every second of the day. It was cute-- even endearing at first, but as the honeymoon phase ceased, it was beyond overbearing.

With no regard for when you were at work, he was ceaseless in his seemingly sudden obsession. When you finally did hang out, he was all over you in near desperation, yearning for your completely undivided attention. It felt like you were suffocating as he consistently crowded your space and cut out all of the people in your life that mattered. You're not even entirely sure when you moved in with him. More and more of your stuff just kept turning up at his house, until he 'convinced' you not to go back to your apartment.

The clingy attachment got worse after you yielded to the pressure of living with him. You weren't allowed to keep a code on your phone anymore and only hung out with people he knew personally (most of which looked as if they wanted to go into a rut when they saw you). These things weren't something you took quietly though. There were countless screaming matches and arguments, all of which ended with him taking advantage of your heightened emotions and fucking you stupid across the nearest surface or piece of furniture after you had given up and started crying (you weren't exactly proud of that fact).

The highest point of contention after you'd yielded everywhere else, had been your job. His parents died and left an unspeakable amount of trust-fund money, so he didn't work which (to him) meant you shouldn't either. Plus, with you being in real estate, he outright said that he didn't want you, "Dressing up to be surrounded by a bunch of low-life bastards." There was also, the fact that you could ride around sometimes one or two towns over for hours ignoring him-- which especially caused him grief.

His solution was to track your car, stalking your every move when you left the house and actively attempting to make you quit. At one point he'd slashed all four tires of your car while you showed a house so that of course, you had to call him to pick you up. A different time, you took a (male) client and his son out to lunch to show him what the local attractions were like, and you went outside to a kicked in windshield, as well as all 4 windows busted out. Not even the sideview mirrors were spared.

Your management team was able to turn a blind eye those times and let you lie and claim random acts of vandalism or mistaken identity, especially with all the love you got from clients and other customers alike. However, not to be defeated, Bakugo upped the ante and had his buddy from the police force send SWAT to a house that you were doing a walkthrough on. They kicked in the doors and windows with guns and helicopters claiming that they received an active shooter notice for the address. You had been scared shitless, that is until the SWAT team carried you out and you saw Iida suited up, looking completely unbothered despite the 'severity' of the situation. He actually lit a cigarette and subjected you to an entirely unnecessary, way-too-thorough body search behind one of the police cruisers. Seconds later a familiar orange mustang with orange rims drove by and you knew what was going on. Luckily, the police presence spared you from being fired, as management had believed there was real danger. (The event was breaking news and blocked traffic for hours).

With that one having backfired and you crying and throwing a fit, he bought you a dog to 'apologize' though he never actually said the words. He later proceeded to double down on arguments about you quitting your job and broke your phone. Of course he ended up replacing it with a fancier more expensive one-- But you soon realized that it had only the contacts of people that had earned his approval and a monitoring software.

It was never ending with him, but trying to leave or break up face to face only made him hold you hostage until you promised not to leave. After waking up handcuffed to the headboard the last time you tried that, you chose not to try it again.

💥💥💥💥💥

Meanwhile, hard work and dedication (and screaming matches with your boyfriend) afforded you the senior salesperson promotion, meaning you were one step from a sales management position. With this title under your belt, you could step into a leadership role with more freedom than before.

To build reputation and show management potential, you were given the chance to sell a house of your choice and then would go through a shadowing and training process, meaning you were about 6-8 months shy of your dream position if everything worked out okay.

You'd spotted the perfect property and bought it on behalf of the company. There hadn't been too much confidence in it due to its age compared to other homes in the area, but with the right renovations and staging, and a well advertised open house, buyers would flock; that much was certain.

Late nights, early mornings, a dozen gallons of coffee. There was nothing your heart desired more than for the success of this house-- the success of you. It would be perfect and even set a new standard for open house events within the company.

There were unfortunately several out of budget expenses, like hiring a caterer and setting up before and after photoshoots for the property. The cost of landscaping had gone over due to several rotted tree removals, and sod placement for quite a bit of the back and side yards. There was also no way you were going to fill in the inground pool, which would become a major selling point after fixing it's disgusting condition. Repiping, rewiring, new insulation, trash removal (it was previously a hoarder's house), and a pool remodel... Everyone warned you about taking on a foreclosure sight-unseen for your first solo reno, but in your excitement, you tended to be exceedingly ambitious and with no HOA there were no limits.

At this point your job was the only thing you had control over, the only thing that gave you relief. And as you nitpicked yourself to a perfectionist's standard, your boyfriend remained oddly quiet. He actually volunteered his own money so it didn't look to anyone that you had technically far exceeded the company budget. The words of encouragement he offered while you worked were foreign, but you appreciated not having to fight when you were so tired. He was acting all warm and supportive like everything mattered to him so much..

💥💥💥💥💥

The house had turned out incredibly. Inside and out, there was no sign of the safety hazard that it had been, only an amazing dwelling that would belong to a happy family, hopefully in the near future. Before leaving home, you checked that all of your equipment was fully charged and ready to go: Laptop, tablet, phone, and USB that contained all the photographers pictures and video edits of the newly revived property.

Bakugo had a prior engagement and would be at the grand opening of his friend Midoriya's gym (a timing overlap that was very intentional on your part), though he would be dropping you off to the open house. The ride was silent, but not due to the aftermath of a huge argument; it was because something was up with Bakugo. All of his body language read that he was on edge, frequently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He only behaved this way when there was something on his mind.

"You good, Kats? You look really tense."

He smiled gleefully before glancing your way with sharp red eyes. "I'm alright."

"Aight then." You shrugged. "Make the next right and the place is at the other end of the street, on the cor-"

"I know where it is."

"Of course you do." You sighed, throwing your hands up.

Pulling up to your destination a few minutes later, you got out of the car and Bakugo followed suit. Grabbing your bag for you, he stood on the sidewalk for a moment.

"Wow." He commented, admiring the property. "Way to turn this shithole around. Nice job."

"Uh, Thank you." You smirked, heat creeping up your cheeks. "You look surprised."

"Well, I haven't followed you in like a month. Been busy helping Deku with his shitty new hires."

You sighed, rolling your eyes. It wasn't like you didn't know that he did it, but you preferred he not mention the stalking.

Showing Bakugo around the inside, you wanted to make sure that everything was in place for guests. Design wise, it was perfect; Every accent wall on the first level of the house had the same pattern which became the theme for the furniture colors and pillows. The upstairs followed the same trend, just with a different color/pattern combination. The curtains for each level were in the respective opposite color of the accent walls-- But it was the little details that mattered, so you went from room to room spraying air freshener and placing a scented candle in each; it combatted the smell of recently dried paint. You also needed to sit out the gift bags that had your business card and number tucked within and set up the projector so that it linked to your laptop.

Bakugo was actually impressed and would've stayed to watch you all day (his own words) but he had to leave for Izuku's event. Meanwhile, the caterers had arrived and were putting together shrimp cocktails and hors d'oeuvres, in time for the early bird guests showing up.

It didn't take long before a steady stream of potential buyers filled the property. They were encouraged to mingle and look around on their own or join in as you gave a tour with details about the artwork on the walls, insulation, and the re-pipe/rewire. One of your assistants also helped you to do a live stream showing each room, while another managed the gift card raffle, and the third made sure that every single guest left with a gift bag.

The event went on for roughly 2.5 to 3 hours, which you were on your feet networking for the duration of. You'd picked up 4 more potential buyers for a few different properties after chatting up countless people, as well as several who wanted this one. A bidding war was most certainly on the horizon.

For everyone that stayed to the end, a film reel of before and after shots was assembled. You and your co-workers had the remaining people gather in the media room of the home, where the projector had been set up at. "Alrighty ladies and gentlemen! This will be the final act of our showing. We will put on display what each room looked like before the transformation, with side-by-side images recapping the final product you've seen here today-- The point of which is to highlight just how hard earned the beauty of this house is, and why it would be perfect to live and raise your beloved family in."

The video came on in clear, perfect hi-resolution, starting with a series of credits for all the companies involved in the renovation of the property (clean up, photography, landscaping, pool fix etc). In the meantime you slipped out of the room and down the hallway, heading to the mother-in-law suite on the front side of the house and closing the door. You wanted a hair and makeup touch-up before it was time to shake hands and say goodbye.

Pushing your blazer off and stepping out of your heels you went and opened the chest of drawers to pull out your tote bag. Out of habit, the first thing you did was grab your phone but strangely enough, there was only one text message from Katsuki awaiting you from about half an hour after the open house had started. "Made it."Was all it said. You hummed curiously, tossing it on the bed in favor of your makeup bag, flats, and spray bottle. It was severely, out of character for him, but you had to worry about closing out the evening.

💥💥💥💥💥

The audience sat politely through the first minute or two of the presentation. It consisted of the credentials and numbers for the separate business entities that collaborated on the house. Completely normal.

However--

Things took a turn for the worst just moments later after you stepped out.

The screen went black for about 5-10 seconds and the gruff voice of a male could be heard in the background. When the image on the screen resumed, it was of a man in peak physical condition from the chin down, proud erection sitting between toned thighs as he stroked it rapidly. There was a plain black band on his left ring finger with a diamond studded behemoth on the middle one. He had a sleeve of colorful tattoos and spider bite piercings under the right corner of his mouth ."I love these little tantrums you throw, Baby." He grunted through his teeth. "Gets me so fucken hard when you act like a spoiled brat..." He stopped stroking with his hand and began to thrust fiercely into it instead. "But no matter how mad you get..." He said, breathing ragged and labored, "You'll always belong to Daddy." He moaned, shooting his load straight up, allowing it to land on his incredible abs.

It felt like an eternity for those watching, but the clip was less than 20 seconds long. Some astounded viewers quickly vacated, while others lingered feigning disgust, gasps and whispers.

But not one of your coworkers-- the so-called 'work family' moved to stop it, even as the next clip started immediately.

This one was of the same man, face still obscured, but from the point of view of the woman he was on top of; you. The camera seemed to have been recording from just above your head and tilted downward, so your face wasn't showing either. It was likely placed in the headboard.

Length buried fully into you, with your legs wrapped around his waist, his usual tone was down to a gritty pur. "Shit girl... I fucking love when you act like this...You want Daddy to make you cum?"

Your hands ran up his arms as you pulled him down flush against you. "Yes please.." you whimpered from beneath him.

"Louder." He hissed biting your neck.

"--Yes, please Daddy! Make me cum!"

"Hehehe...Of course.." He pulled completely out for a moment and you began to protest.

"Wait, please, I--" you whined, before he soothed you:

"It's alright Baby Girl, just hold on."

Pushing your knees up to your chest so that your ankles were on his shoulders and getting into a kneeling position, he sunk into your tight pussy from a new angle-- both of you groaning unified bliss. Suddenly, his pace was fast, breathing labored as he fucked into your wet hole.

That's what you saw when you were finally coming back from your bathroom break-- just in time to look down the corridor that opened up into the media room and see yourself squealing in delight as you squirted all over your boyfriend.

It was so astonishing you stopped dead in your tracks, staring confusedly down the hallway for a minute as you tried to figure out what you were seeing and why. A vicious pang of sadness struck your heart as tears began to ruin your freshly redone make-up.

Meanwhile, a third clip started-- This one with you standing, facing the camera from the neck down, with Bakugo sitting behind you on the edge of the bed. There could've been plausible deniability that this wasn't you, that this was a data breach of some sort and the computer had been hacked-- but right there, dangling between your gorgeous bouncing titties-- was the necklace that currently adorned you. It was too distinctive, (a diamond studded hand-grenade with a flash behind it, engraved with the date you and Bakugo met) and you wore it every day.

Less than 2 minutes of footage, had effectively ruined your entire professional life.

Had you not been afraid of someone keeping or distributing this imagery, you would've marched right out of the front door and never looked back. Instead, you dragged your feet the rest of the way down the hall into a room full of scornful sneers from colleagues, and horny perverts that didn't care to avert their eyes from the video of you getting fucked.

It looked too good; with him having pulled you back on to his lap and lifted your legs up. The view of how accepting your tight cunt was of such a big dick would live forever with these people, partnered with the sound of your moans as your pussy was filled with cum.

You slammed the laptop shut and snatched it free from the cords of the projector, numbly walking out of the room to get your bag and go. After all of the measures that were taken to keep something like this from happening, it still ended up being a disaster. The laptop that you were using was at least 6 years old. You kept it as messy as possible, with file folders saved across the home screen and the taskbar full of miscellaneous interests. It wasn't synced to any accounts, all apps that weren't games were deactivated for the most part. No Docs, no Cloud, no Adobe suite. Just plain PowerPoint, which was over a decade old at this point. You wracked your brain, trying to figure it out; Where had you gone wrong? How did Katsuki even manage this!?

Heading down the walkway, the orange monstrosity that he drove was parked on the sidewalk waiting for you. The negative emotions within you undulated like snakes in a pit. You slammed the car door as you got in and didn't spare him a glance.

He didn't react, other than the smirk that he forced himself to suppress, expecting a blow-up any minute but it never came. Instead, you cried silently. The tears just started pouring down your face as you stared straight ahead. Immediately he felt a wash of guilt. He hated when you cried but you really forced his hand; You liked to go to work and pretend he didn't exist, like you were single and work was your everything. So it was your own fault. Still, he would forgive you with no hesitation as soon as you shed a tear.

"How?" You asked, voice low, still not looking at him.

"I switched the videos when you dozed off last night...You left everything open."

You didn't bother to respond, a massive sob coming from you instead as tears kept coming.

Bakugo was certain that he had never seen anyone cry like that; almost completely silently with no noise other than the occasional sniff and nose wipe with a handkerchief. Definitely a far departure from your usual. You winced when he rested his hand on your thigh but otherwise did not protest.

"Kats, I'm tired. Please head home, I've been on my feet all day."

"Uh, yeah." He didn't know how to respond.

"Thank you."

The rest of the ride was silent. You had screamed, shouted, and broken things more times than you could count and at this point, you just didn't have the energy to do that. Tired and angry for sure, but at the core of it all you were sad. That he could do such hateful things. That he could care less about what you wanted for yourself. That he would be so unnecessarily cruel, while still claiming to love you.

This was the last straw.

💥💥💥💥💥

For a few months, you plotted and played your role. If you wanted to go somewhere, you asked him to bring you. You wore overly revealing clothes and climbed all over him in public. You stopped using his name, referring to him exclusively as Daddy no matter who was around. You would initiate sex, begging him to fuck you; beg to fuck him. You even took to sending him video and pictures of you playing with yourself when he left you at home, sometimes in his oversized clothes, other times nothing at all-- (which would make him come back much faster, if he could help it). You really made him feel his victory.

Kats was too busy loving that you didn't resist him anymore and was all too eager to have you all to himself; You, he, and the dog had been to 5 countries in the three months since. It was easy to get swept up in the gifts and vacations (and mind-blowing orgasms) and forget he was something that you needed to get away from, since he had been absolutely perfect since you started acting the way he wanted. You almost felt bad about your brewing plot to leave.

Well, it actually wasn't much of a plot, you were you going to take a few thousand out of his home safe, get the dog, and ghost. He was just too unstable and insecure, and at this point it was clear that he could only behave properly when you were 'obedient'.

💥💥💥💥💥

The sole opportunity to leave came with the passing of another month. When he wasn't traveling, Bakugo habitually visited his parents' headstones on the Saturday of every third weekend, at sunset. It was the absolute only time that he left you devoid of incessant phone calls, messages, and his suffocating presence. A cloud of guilt shrouded the decision to leave at such a time... But you'd never know peace if you didn't. What other choice did you have? You had learned from the last several times you attempted to break up with him that it would only intensify his crazy.

When he left that evening, you waited until receiving the text that he was there to make your move. You left absolutely everything behind other than Thunder with his dogfood and cash from Bakugo's safe-- On foot, hence lurking through the woods that started on the edge of the property instead of taking a main road. The location of motion cameras on the edge of the acreage that surrounded the house were something that you had carefully mapped out the boundaries of-- And after almost 4 years, you knew where they were by heart.

There was also a small plan that was put into play as a distraction; He always took the smaller, more low key of the cars when visiting the cemetery. In turn, you sent his chef to a store over an hour in the opposite direction of where you were going, in his easy to spot orange car.

It would be hours before he knew you were gone...

💥💥💥💥💥

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

I am unreasonably upset about the fact that I've been forced to accept that Gabriel was a Gerald.

For context, in An Inspector Calls, Gerald Croft is engaged to Sheila Birling when he meets a homeless, struggling Eva Smith in a bar, and essentially in return for a home and money he shows her affection (ahem), then gets rid of her once he no longer has a use for her. Now, obviously this isn't a direct translation, but the essentials are - a Gerald is a character who uses another character, in return for something they need, usually masking the fact that they're using them with affection and love.

And against my will I've had to accept that this is exactly what Gabriel does to Nathalie.

Did I want to think he had potential to be better? Did I think he genuinely cared for Nathalie?? Hell, did I just really really want somebody to care about Nathalie???

Probably all of the above but the point is: he's Gerald. And I cannot - I literally can't unsee it now. Their whole dynamic in S3 is like “oh boohoo I'm sorry I wish you didn't have to use the peacock Miraculous and kill yourself over it but uh I need to use your powers” “yeah no that's fine I'm all good”. Which, given the "Gerald" theorem, I'm assuming leads to the fact that what Nathalie needed, above all, was someone to care about her - and Gabriel came along, as Sheila Birling puts it, "like a fairytale prince", and was so caring and gentle and... Yeah. She fell for him. And. Yeah he genuinely did seem to care like twice. But so did Gerald. Gerald actually admits that he did care for Eva, just not the way that she cared for him, and, uh, not enough to not just dispose of her. So he discards her anyway when she stops being useful.

Leading me neatly to my point.

He starts using the peacock Miraculous the second it's fixed, the slimy bastard, HOWEVER. It runs way deeper than that. Assuming I'm right (which I almost DEFINITELY am), then Gabriel only needed Nathalie while she was useful. She didn't stop being useful in season three - she's still scheming for him, helping him with plan after plan. It's only partway through season 5 that she officially servers ties with him, and starts to actively hinder him.

Nathalie stops being useful when she fails as Safari. And I reckon that's when Gabriel and Tomoe decided she had to go.

(It's painfully, I-was-ugly-crying-over-it obvious in Conformation that Gabriel is fully prepared to let Nathalie die - in the original storyboard, her alliance was encouraging her to sleep, and he's very obviously prepared for this moment - I've made a separate post about it that I'll link if I can find it. However, onto the next bit)

With all of this, there's one thing that sticks out to me - Nathalie didn't see any of it until it was already too late. There could be many reasons for this. But you know who would have seen through it? Whose parents were all loving and perfect until she married the wrong man? Emilie. Emilie, who left behind those videos, which on the surface look innocent, but when you look deeper look like a (love confession???????) AHEM a warning. I reckon Emilie noticed what was going on and realised that Nathalie wouldn't see through Gabriel, so she left those videos addressed to Nathalie (not Gabriel, which surely they should have been - they were about him, after all - unless they were there...) as a warning. I don't think the videos were supposed to be about helping Gabriel, I think Emilie was warning Nathalie to get the fuck out of that house, and to take Adrien with her. Because Emilie knew it'd end like this.

Yes I'm still mad ok give me a break.

[yandere-isopod]

Making a new pinned post and I still have no eye for design so it is still not formatted all sexy. :(

Boring shit about myself first:

I’m Haru, (they/them) I don’t have a set theme here I just throw my impulsive thoughts out to make them everyone’s problem. I am delusional and obsessive with friends and my spouse so I post obsessive and sometimes toxic rants a lot. If you’re uncomfortable with yandere content you will be uncomfortable with this page. Everything I post about people is completely consensual. Somehow I ended up around people who are very insecure so my “I’ll kill you if you ever leave me” is usually met with blushing and a heartfelt thanks. But that’s just to say that anyone I’m talking about is fully aware of my behavior and feelings and actively encourages me being feral for some reason.

I don’t really have solid rules on asks except don’t sexualize me. You can sexualize any OCs or game characters, you can even send platonic yandere asks, I just absolutely do not want to be sexualized. Compliment me like you would a really neat piece of furniture and you wouldn’t fuck the furniture… right?

I’m making a game

And I’ll put that in big fucking letters cause I’m very excited about it. It’s called Nozomi and anything about it is tagged under that. I would describe it as a farming survival rpg. But most of the people following it are here cause they saw “yandere love interests” and are starved for content.

Nozomi is a love letter to my darling who loves yanderes so every marriageable character has the potential to be yandere. (There are also a couple platonic yanderes as well and at least one who is aromantic.) You have the power to either help them get help, or encourage their deranged behavior and enjoy the consequences of your actions.

You start the game taking over as the deity of an island that is loosely based off the town my grandma grew up in Japan. The island and its inhabitants are in a pretty bad way when you start and where you go from there depends entirely on what you want to do with it. Not just with the islanders, but with each quest there’s several ways you can complete it and things change in the world based on what you decide to do.

Nozomi is built to be diverse. There are different body types, races, disabilities, sexualities and gender identities. I’m not making this game to make money, I’m making it because I wanna make my spouse’s perfect game and I feel like I have a fun idea that a lot of people will enjoy. If you are homophobic, racist, fatphobic or transphobic: I DO NOT WANT YOU TO BUY MY GAME. You aren’t welcome here. I don’t care if there’s only one person who ever buys the game, I’m very loud about those opinions and while I can’t outright ban someone from purchasing something on Steam I can certainly make it impossible to miss my feelings on the subject.

By the end of the year (ideally by fall but definitely by December) I’ll have a steam page which I will post here, and I’ll be having people bug test it. Most of game development is when everything is “finished” so even though I’m pretty far in, I don’t expect to actually release it for another year and maybe two. A lot of it now is just writing and art but I have a much bigger team now, so I’m hoping that goes pretty quickly.

Current artists who have worked on the project are:

NaniWasabi - https://www.fiverr.com/naniwasabi/design-assets-or-sprites-for-any-digital-need

IncognitoAnkh - https://www.fiverr.com/ankhasmodeus

Piyan Apriyanto - https://www.fiverr.com/piyanapriyanto

Maia - @lacrymoria

Robin - @nepeta

Current writers who have worked on the project are:

Almond - @miodaisgay

Drops - @sleepingbirch

Beelzebutt

Drama Lama of the Alpaca Lips

I will add links and artist names as they join the project or give me their links.

[azurlily]

Dont ask where this came from, but I was tired and came across a tumblr post abt means lesbians. My first thought was, mean lesbian gf smut???." So now you get: Mean Lesbian NSFW!

She's a bit of a yandere, but that's okay we love her anyways.

TW: The three G's. Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss!

Mean Lesbian

NSFW

[ML stands for Mean Lesbian, I dont have a name for this character yet.]

The whole Mean lesbian stereotype never fit in my eyes, I mean becoming nice for the sake of your girlfriend? Yeah no, how about making your girlfriend worse than you, for the sake of yourself? That's right up my alley, but when you like a girl that's as sweet as apple pie...it takes time to get her to your pace.

"All I'm saying is that she deserved it, I don't care if people think I'm doing it because I like her. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. She was flirting with you."

Very recently a bunch of nude pictures of some random girl had gotten out around school. The culprit being none other than ML, she'd been out snd proud about it. Knowing damn well no one could, nor would do shit. Her daddy has money, her moms a lawyer, how are you meant to fight someone like that?

You aren't, and that's the point. No on is meant to be able to fight someone with power like that. So no one does, and ML likes it that way. No matter how much her sweetheart disagrees.

Quiet whimpers and soft sighs bang around the room, while ML was having her little monologue her girlfriend was in a sticky situation.

On her knees, head laying against ML's thighs, a thick ball gag in her mouth, and pink silk adorning her skin. Soft cries attempt to leave the girls mouth, although it's all in vain. ML runs her hand through the girls hair, and dark smirk on her face.

"Oh pretty girl, my baby girl. You look beautiful you know, you look like a piece of art. Ready to be torn in two, just for me..."

Fake innocence runs thickly in her voice, she wants you to think she pitys you. She wants your dumb brain to think she cares,(which she does) think she loves your weak, useless body.

ML's hand grab at your body, slowly pulling you up on the bed. She's picked up heavier girls than you, she used to be a cheerleader and then she didn't even enjoy picking them up. She gently sets you up, just on her lap. Soft hands running up and down your back, up and down your ass.

Her face is bright red, while ML has had plenty of girls in her bed before, you're her favorite. Which is exactly why she made you her public girlfriend a while ago. Well, you don't know you're her girlfriend, but everyone else does. That's good enough for her!

You feel two long fingers press against your entrance, her long slender fingers scoop up some of your slick. She puts the two fingers in her mouth and sucks on them. She continues this activity by rubbing you with her fingers, giving you just the tiniest sparks of pleasure. Then taking it all away as she tastes you.

You whine louder and louder, you like foreplay but this was too much. You'd pass out before even getting to actually cum as this rate! You whine and attempt to move around, quickly remembering how she has you tied up.

Your arms tied behind your back, your feet tied but not your legs. She wants easy access, one of the rops running down your back onto your ass. And tightly around your chest. ML mentally praises herself for such amazing work.

ML hears your whines and sees your breaking point arising.

"Oh, I know baby, you wanna cum so badly! So let's make a game out of this, I'm going to take that pretty gag off and ask you a few questions. For everyone you get right; I fuck you more. For every wrong answer; I spank you. Seem fair?"

ML didn't wait for you to nod your head, she took the gag off and asked the first question:

"Am I better at fucking you than your exes?"

You feel two long finger slide inside of you, while her other hand is on your ass. She's just waiting for a wrong answer, or maybe she's waiting to reward you...

"Y-yes you're better than them!"

You answered as honestly as possible, and you were greatly rewarded for it. You feel her fingers pump in and out of you, you whine loudly as moves them through you at a painstaking slow pace. She slows even more as she asks the second question:

"Good answer. Second question is easy: would you ever cheat on me...or have you?"

Cheat? You two aren't even dating, right? Right? You ponder for a second too long and a sharp hand slams down on your ass. Your cry out, but it doesn't matter and she does it once more. After the second time she stops, you don't dare move or speak for that matter. Her fingers stop and you almost cry at the loss, you dont though because you know what would happen.

"You took too long to answer, I'm talking it as a yes. And because of that I'll be asking something different for my third question. Were you actually flirting with that girl, hm? Or did I just take it the wrong way and...accidentally ruin her reputation?"

There wasn't any anger in her voice, quote the opposite, she was happy and you knew damn why. You've seen how obsessed she gets over someone, you're the example after all. The worst part is that you hated that girl, that's exactly why you were in fact flirting with her. You knew exactly what she would do, and you loved it.

"I- I was flirting with her, why are you jealous? Green isn't a good color on you-"

She gently flicks you on the back of your head, you don't need to look up to know the look on her face. Angry with a hint if pride.

"Hm, wrong answer."

[oh-my-damn]

There's something about his facial expressions, his gestures, in his eyes that reflects a kind of sadness, fatigue or even sadness. But - and please don't take this the wrong way - it doesn't necessarily have to do with her. Maybe - and I say maybe - this love is real, maybe it is not.

As for Alba: I don't want to defend anyone who is racist or makes fun of minorities. Absolutely not. I'm just trying to be neutral. She's a young thing and maybe has the wrong friends. We all have or had friends like that at one time or another and we all did things in our 20s that I'm sure were wrong.

But what is fact is that he can't please anyone right now. If he posts his "happiness" it will be torn apart, if he takes some time off it will be torn apart, if an interview of him appears it will be torn apart - everything he says, doesn't say, does or doesn't do will be put on the gold scale and that does something to people. Let's assume that Chris is the sensitive guy we think he is.... His "fans" are currently cyberbullying of the worst kind and it hurts my soul - for him as a human being! He is not stupid and gets the certainly everything somehow with.

What I want to say is: If Chris really loves this woman, then it surely has its reason and then it surely hits him deep in the core when his wife and his love for her are torn apart so much. We don't have to like her - he does.

If it's all just PR after all, then that's his decision too. Right or not.

But I don't think it gives anyone in this world the right to trample so much on one (or two) people as is currently the case.

Hopefully we all know from the many suicides of celebrities how quickly a human soul can be overwhelmed. I ask everyone who reads this, but the next comment or the next post to think about what it might do with the people around it.

How often have others disagreed with your decisions and how would you have felt?

You reap what you sow. If you want pity then don't present yourself as a political activist who cares about minorities and racial/gender issues only for you to go back and marry someone with a clearly racist and even anti-semitic past and ties. Are you forgetting that these people are still actively in her life? And have even stayed at Chris' house, AKA with Chris? Chris is friends with them too. He let them into his house, knowing their history. She describes one of them as her fucking "soulmate". I am certain they were at the wedding. This isn't "the past". This is the present, and no matter how you guys will excuse it with "it was years ago" no it fucking wasn't. They just stopped putting it on the internet for the world to see. Don't you fucking get that? People like that don't change, and if they do, it takes a lot of work and acknowledgement. We have seen NONE of that.

This ask is bullshit. Stop trying to push the blame onto people reacting to this despicable shit that's happening right now. None of this would be happening if he hadn't "fallen in love" with someone who is a fucking racist? Or who is 16 years younger than him?

Him refusing to work on himself and going to therapy at 42 YEARS OF AGE is not my fucking problem. It is not my fault.

I can react how I see fit because I am outraged and disgraced that someone I supported would turn around and do this. It feels misleading, it feels like I dove in head first into supporting this man BASED ON WHAT HE PRESENTED TO THE WORLD and giving him my time and money only for him to pull back the curtain and yell "SIKE!"

Now I just feel ashamed for doing that shit. I hate the fucking Cap shield hanging above my TV now because none of it seems genuine or pure or lovely anymore.

It's all gross and tainted and disgusting and laced with shit I want nowhere near me.

We have every right to be angry.

What he does is up to him, but he put himself in this situation. He chose that person and he chose that person over and over again, pushing it out into the world KNOWING how people felt about it.

He's made his bed and it's time to fucking lie in it.

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

Hiatus

TLDR: my ass has not been recovering but instead stressing myself out badly over tumblr so i will be taking a break from tumblr till it wont affect my mental health and my physical recovery. more details further down

Key Stuff:

Unlike my last hiatus, im talking a complete hiatus, no dash, no checking peoples blogs, no posting art and probably not even posting my writing on ao3.

Commissions will be open via my kofi as they have been, as im already shooting myself in the foot financially with this hiatus and i wont any further. I also won't be raising my prices from £25 to the price i should given how i changed my workflow and the time i take for them, in an attempt to make them more appealing, as other than unemployment benefits and occasional private comms from family they are my only way of making money as i am too disabled to work.

Mutuals please dm me for my discord if you want to keep in contact while im on hiatus<3 i will be active on there

My reasons: Since finishing education i have been mainly focusing on opening commissions, and then trying to draw more/get more popular so i can reach potential clients. Despite telling everyone and myself that this time is for me to recover from the stress of the last... well lifetime, I've thrown myself right into the stressful ordeal of being an artist online trying to make money through that art. And its been awful for my mental health.

Turning what was for so long my escape and joy into what i make money from has made it so much harder to focus on the positives, from lovely tags and replies to people interested in my ocs to discord conversations. I feel raw, drained, and one bad step away from fucking everything up because the stress is tiring me out so much i cant think about how to be polite, or find the energy to be kind no matter how much i want to.

I need to take a break from tumblr to actually try and fucking recover, and i'd rather leave now than after i have worn myself down even further. I hope to return as soon as i can do so in a good mental place, and hopefully i will have physically recovered to some extent in that time as well.

Because i think I'm funny[and this song has been looping in my head all day]:

[ghostofechoes]

I Need Genuine Help

Don’t worry it’s not that serious but still serious enough to me.

I’ll probably not get a response, this is my most active account online and that’s saying something.

I am going to go trigger happy with tags just to get this post out there so I apologize in advance!

Respond to this send me an ask reblog I don’t care just help me lol.

I don’t know what to do I have to many ideas and no one in my life to help me.

No it’s not mental health and no it’s not that I don’t have anyone I just don’t have anyone who will know how to help me with this.

I am overwhelmed with so many ideas so many stories I want to create in so many different mediums and my brain won’t let me choose one.

I don’t even have a hyperfixation that I can lean on right now to get going with like fanfiction/art.

So I’m stuck in a limbo bursting with creativity but no outlet.

There is another issue

I am exhausted after work and rather let my ideas whirring around in my skull things on easy mode while I watch shows that bring me up.

But that’s not creative, it’s gotten to the point that jotting down my ideas aren’t enough I need to do something.

But everyone I know will tell me to go the capitalist route and pick the one that can make you money the soonest even if it’s not what I am enjoying most at the moment.

But I can’t do it, call it undiagnosed adhd/autism or me being stubborn as fuck but I want to enjoy what I do I am incapable of starting anything if I don’t enjoy it so this is where you all come in.

Help me pick?

What is my limited range of people who can hear my voice interested in the most?

I am going to be doing all of these I am unable to keep away from all my ideas

My issue is taking the first step I would appreciate my audience/community to say what they want to see out of the choices I want to pick so at the very least I will have like one person interacting with my stuff.

So this 31 year old gayby is asking for help thank you for your time!

Love you all out there!

[adviceformefromme]

Hiii,

I would love to have your insight on my issue or crisis.

I'm now living alone. I moved out (I used to live with a family friend, but she has an awful character, and I always get sick there due to being stressed out/overworked, I worked for her because she owns a business, and she isn't paying me enough, she pays me a quarter and even less from everyone else), and I was supposed to have a job, I applied, get hired and all that but it didn't turned out well. So, now I'm unemployed, and I'm looking for a job again. But it's been over a month, and my anxiety is skyrocketing. I'm so worried over the next few weeks because I might run out of money, and I have pills to pay, food, and everything else. I am budgeting what's left to fit all my expenses. I am so worried. I don't have anyone I can confide to, ask for help, or anything. I feel so alone and miserable. I really don't know what to do anymore.

I'm still currently applying for a job, hopefully I'd get hired as soon as possible. But as of the moment, this situation is really taking a toll on my well-being. I can't sleep, and I'm constantly worrying about what might happen to me tomorrow, the next few days and weeks. I'm so stressed out. I really don't know what to do anymore.

Thank you for reading this. Would love to have your advice on this one. Love lots, and take care always xx.

Hey sweetie, omg I FEEL you! I have been there. I was thrown out and had no were to go when I was 19 and I was literally desperate. I had no money, no job and also when I was 21 same thing. As difficult as this situation is, you have to believe it's literally the moments before your break through, and this is where your task is to trust and lean into faith. I know you have a vision, of where you want to be, i know you are trying your very best to get there, or even just get on the path there so keep focusing on what you want, nothing less. Pour all your energy into where you want to be. Not who screwed you over, not how difficult life is. IGNORE THE 3D. Focus all your mental energy on where you want to be. This is going to require you to be pro-active in thinking positively. Things you can do right now to help yourself. 1] Grab a pen and paper or the notes in your phone. Write down exactly what you want. The vision. Let go of what you don't want otherwise you're dragging more of that into your future. Write about the dream job, where it is, what you wear to work, what time you wake up, what your new boss is like, get into DELULU. Make shit up. Be creative. As long as you write in present tense. I AM. Keep doing this. Time yourself for 5 mins writing (longer if you can). You also want to imagine the phone call receiving the good news. Just keep pretending 'OMG THEY OFFERED ME THE FUCKING JOB AGHHHHHH' literally go there, this is your oscar moment. Let the tears stroll down because you are so happy, the struggle is finally over. Pretend you're on the phone to your imaginary boyfriend telling him the best news about your new job. Imagine getting the keys to your dream apartment. As crazy as this all sounds the most important thing you do is FEEL into where you want to be, and do this as often as you can throughout the day. Become obsessed with your vision. Put hourly timers on your phone, the main goal is to move you out of the darkness you are in right now. 2] Listen to positive music. Let go of the depressing shit, listen to beautiful songs that make you feel hopeful, energised. Binural beats, pop music that uplifts you, harp playlists on youtube, whatever lifts your spirits, use sound to assist you. 3] Go for a run! Running is free. Is allows you to free your mind, shift your energy and realise some of the weight of the world. 4] Stop talking about what you don't want. DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES speak from this moment on, about what you do not want. Don't speak on it. Words are spells, make sure you are only speaking on GOOD NEWS. If anyone asks you about your job search, tell them its going well and you're feeling like something good is about to happen. Pause mid sentence if you find yourself speaking negatively. 5] GET PREPARED. Mentally, physically. I'm not sure what country you are in but there are charities like 'Dress for Success' (globally) that help women with free work clothes, my friend used to volunteer there and they have incredible designer clothes they donate to women for work purposes. See what support is available to you and lean into it. 6] PRAY. Speak words to the unseen, ask for a sign, guidance, a job today, some money to come from somewhere, whatever feels natural for you. Lean on prayer for support. There is a GOD available to you, ready to help. Speak to him, ask him for help, don't be shy, if you're mad, if you're upset let him know. He is there for you, and will help and change your life. He has changed my life so much and I trust he can and will do the same for you. When you feel like you have no-one, I promise you, if you lean on God he will change your life like you could never imagine. I hope these points help sweetie. Sending all the love xoxoxox

[antigonick]

this is maybe a messy question but — is there anything you wish you knew before going for an academic career? i ask my profs too but most of them have had tenure for longer than i’ve been alive. (it’s the senior year career crisis! i adore my literature undergrad, but i realize the job market does not love me back.)

Okay, first things first, academic careers and circles depend on where you are, so—take this with a grain of salt. My situation might be very different from yours (the first obvious difference is that university is a state institution where I am, so it's public.)

So, you're right, and we all know this before we even go for it, the job market in humanities does NOT love you back, and neither does your institution: what we're doing can seldom be turned into something lucrative by private companies (if you even would want to work for them anyway), which means that funding is rare. In effect, it means that you don't really have work hours: you always wear different hats, with a lot of responsibilities in the university proper (teaching, preparing to teach, exams, administration, lab tasks, networking, lab projects, student supervision, academic jury positions, etc), other endeavours depending on your specialties (publishing work? translation work? paratext work? didactic experiments?), and then your personal research, which invades all the time you have left (reading, corpus work, writing, conference communications, publishing—in academic journals at least, you do not get money for your publication, and it's not always that you get funding to travel to conferences, either—in that case, you are literally paying to work).

All of these are indispensable, because the solidity and growing of your research, and thus your standing as an educator and a researcher, are judged by 1. your research not stagnating (don't spend 6 years giving the same seminar in different places); 2. your research being disseminated (publishing, communication); 3. your activities as an active member of this small, small world (administrative tasks; active participation in laboratory missions, events, projects; and later, advising and supervision of students and young researchers).

I don't think that's surprising to you, but it's worth thinking about. Deciding to go into academia feels like following a passion, and a passion project — at least it felt like that for me. But passion has only a very slim place in the day to day, and while it's good, important fuel, it won't be enough and it won't be fulfilled every day.

The one important thing that I hadn't really thought about before going into academia and that I find very important now is this, though: even if you are going into this for research, and learning, and writing, you will be an educator. Teaching will take a huge place in all of what you do. You and your knowledge don't exist in a personal bubble of self-nourishing: this is the privilege of a student. Whether you are teaching a class, writing an article, giving a conference, or talking about your specialisation to others, you are always teaching (while continuing to learn yourself, of course). I've met a lot of academics who behave as if being knowledgeable or expert affords them superiority, the right to belittle, the comfort to consider misunderstanding and difficulties as a failing from the student rather than a failing from their teaching—and all in all, the privilege to just come in, spew out what they know, and not care what is retained (in writing, by using obscure jargon, for example; in class... We've all had those teachers who don't give a fuck about whether you're getting it, and steam ahead with concepts they haven't bothered to bridge into what you're supposed to know). Those are the same people who say their students are "idiots" and get frustrated about the thankless chore of teaching when they could be doing something so much loftier with their time.

That's not it, though. Honestly, I don't even understand how you get there, because research teaches you quickly that you are ignorant and always will be; that there are no answers, only questions and perspectives. As an academic, your job is not just to dig into them further, but to make them graspable by others.

So. Being in academia is not a gateway into working in abstracts forever; it's a job, like any other jobs. It is a gateway into learning forever, if you make it that, but then again you don't need to be in academia to learn everyday. Most importantly, it comes with a duty of transmission that shouldn't be brushed aside, but rather should be part of your academic thinking: an epistemology of the subjects you teach, and the didactic shape you will give it.

There's a huge difference between knowledge and pedagogy, and going into academia for knowledge alone will only lead to disappointment. Excitement (for me at least) comes from the abstract, the work that you do alone, with the text, in that moment when you're not yet sure what's going to be sparked. But that's a minuscule part of it all; and it's the ethics of transmission, rather than the solitude of assimilation, that fill your day to day.

That being said, you can learn from transmission very much too, so it's not to say that it's bad.

ALRIGHT. This got super long, and I don't know if that really answers your question but... Here's my two cents about it!