#i don't really need color/note taking functions

[seoafin]

if anybody uses e-readers plz hmu with recs/suggestions 😁

[laugtherhyena]

Playing Bomb rush cyberfunk has been a crazy experience so far because i feel like I've been enjoying the game just as much as I'm not doing so

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

✨️ poc artists recommendations ✨️

Kendrick Lamar

Mitski

Babymetal

On a serious note i will never understand your anons. Like. EVEN setting aside actual music bloggers of color - RateYourMusic exists. Pitchfork exists. Can anyone here me. Hello. I think i need to take my mood stabilizers rn

god first off that list is so funny, you did it you listed every artist of color! nobody needs anything but that!

but in all seriousness it's like. okay. here's my Thots on this as a White Woman(TM). I think that for a lot of people (especially white people) who don't really engage with a lot of art by people of color (especially Black artists, we for real get so weird about Black people) but are aware of and uncomfortable with that gap there's like. there's like a lot of self-imposed pressure to find something by a POC and Really Like It as fast as possible so that they can validate to themselves and any imagined onlookers that they're Not Racist.

this is, obviously, a flagrant misunderstanding of what racism is and how it functions and frequently veers into tokenization Really Fast, not to mention it just needlessly complicates the process of diversifying a media diet because it makes people really scared of engaging with something that they might not like. because if you're trying to listen to, say, A Black Musician for the first time ever to demonstrate that you're not racist, but you picked somebody who's not really to your taste, then suddenly there's a sense that this reflects poorly on you. if all you've ever loved is, like, country/folky music and you try listening to Kendrick because he's somehow the only artist of color you know then yeah, you're probably going to have a bad time, because you should have been checking out Brittney Spencer and Joy Oladokun and Amythyst Kiah and Allison Russell and Kaia Kater, just to name a few. the problem isn't that you hate All Music By Black People Because You're Racist, it's that you listened to one(1) guy and you weren't into him so you got scared and gave up instead of hunting around for something you'd actually like.

which is why you get clowns like me getting anointed god's most special little white boy because I like rap and being treated like an authority on all music genres who can somehow direct all of my people to an artist that I magically know for sure they'll enjoy because they don't want to take the time to just do a google search and listen to some shit and see what sticks like they would with white artists.

[evelynpr]

Genshin Official Relationships and Status

Something to take note off in character relationships is what their "official and known" relationships are. So, I decided to try to make a chart of one with the playable cast and some extras.

This is a draft though. If you have criticisms and comments, absolutely please do leave them because I don't think my interpretations of these government systems are that accurate.

Anyways, here they are! The higher the placement, the higher the authority. Distance does not apply, and the legend is in each of the pictures.

Mondstadt: That's a lotta knights

They can be split between the Church and Knights, but the Church is still under the Grand Master as far as I know.

Power is surprisingly concentrated to 1/2 individuals only for a nation of freedom...Mond you gotta work on that...

Jean, Diluc, Kaeya, and Lisa are arranged the way they are in reference to the Klee summer event where they passed on who was looking after Mond.

Diluc still retains his high position because he has so many high credentials and connections (The Darknight Hero, Mond's richest man, high status in an intelligence network), despite being the Ex-Cavalry Captain.

Rosaria is an official recognized nun, but her vigilante works are by her own accord, hence the colors.

I am not sure whatsoever where Jean and Barbara's father, the Cardinal, should really be placed, or if he even still holds the position.

Poor Noelle does so much more Mond, but is lowest in status...please just make her a knight already T__T

Liyue: Zhongli and his powerful lesbians

I really am not sure if Ningguang is who Liyue's closest "leader", but that is how I felt during most of Liyues events

I'm assuming that the adepti now have a lesser status in Liyue because of the shift in power to the humans during the archon quest

How high Beidou's status is is, completely informal. She's right beside Ningguang because they do find each other to be equal competitors in their own way.

Those directly connected to Zhongli are those I assumed to have taken direct orders from him, hence why Beidou and Keqing are not included although they do respect him as their archon (Keqing in her own way)

I feel like I'm missing people here, compared to Mond, so uh, help me out here-

Inazuma: They just had a civil war...woops

I am reallyyy unsure how to label Sangonomiya island's status. Are they under the shogun? Are they their own separate territory?

Otherwise, Inazuma is pretty straightforward with its 3 factions and families

Sumeru: The whole government was just overthrown

Are there like, genuinely so sages right now, or replacement Grand Sage??? Nahida you need to do something asap-

Scara doesn't exactly have equal status to Alhaitham as Acting Grand Sage, but I felt it was more important to show that Scara is working directly under Nahida

Speaking of which, the title "shadow" is used because it's the same role that Ei served to Makoto, which I find poetic. If there is an official or better title tho, I'd love to hear it.

Hopefully, as time passes, there will be more representatives from the desert with high status. Poor Candace is carrying the desert's status on her back-

Should I have included the Corps of Thirty even if there are no playable characters...?

Fontaine: Fancy Schmancy Titles

I honestly reallyyyy wished that Neuv and Wrio were on equal standing, but in the eyes of Fontaine, that probably just isn't true.

Even so, absolute do not underestimate how important Wrio's role is in Fontaine's justice system, because without the Fortress functioning as it is, so much of Fontaine's justice would fall apart.

Despite Furina's death penalty and retirement, I still believe she deserves the title of archon with the highest status. No matter what happens, she is still Fontaine's idol and savior. (Besides, if she wanted/needed anything, Neuv would give it to her.)

How high Navia, Clorinde, and Chevy's statuses are in relation to each other in reality is...not explicit?

Really, Clorinde is just another employee under Fontaine's justice system, and isn't a head in anyway, while Chevy and Navia are actual leaders. But, Clorinde is the best Champion Duelist, so does that make them cancel out...?

Anyways that's all from me! It's pretty interesting to me just how much of the cast are part of their respective nation's government, which only makes sense given the kind of ruckus the traveler causes. Have a good day!

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

yes, ma'am

Dave York x dominatrix!reader | 9.5k w | explicit, mdni | ao3

summary: life goes sideways and Dave is close to snapping. he needs professional help. aka let himself be dominated and be at the receiving end for once. good thing he has your number.

warnings: sub-ish!Dave (how sub can a born dom be?), dominatrix!reader, no use of y/n, reader is able-bodied, Dave is a good husband and father™️, Molly throwing up, slight humiliation (the boy being called dummy <3), slight ball torture, (guided) masturbation (m), finger sucking, petnames (ma'am, good boy, love), cum eating, slight shoe worship, dick+pussy pronouns, reader wears lipstick, nail polish and stilettos, squint and you miss unprotected PinV; dm me if I missed any

a/n: my submission for @wannab-urs dmamc 2025. i had so much fun domming my man and I tried to make it believable because, well, he's Dave 'the dom' York. enjoy another character study including his dick. thank you @guiltyasdave for the beta and constant love, even though sub!Dave isn't your cup of tea 🥹💛

"Gentle eyes, soft words, tender chin scratches. You have his tail wagging. Slowly, slowly you are domesticating him into a dog, one praise at a time."

“Fuck!” His hand slams down on the steering wheel, once, twice. Again, again, again, until his palm hurts and the thrumming pain helps him to push aside the anger boiling inside of him. He rips down his beanie, ripping out a few hairs as well, not giving a shit about it.

He fucked up. If it wasn’t for his partner the mission would have gone south completely, pulling him along. The plan had been perfect, the preparations perfect as well. All he had to do was to pull the trigger and take the target out. But he fucking missed. He fucking missed. Hit the target into the shoulder, and if Dave’s partner didn’t take initiative and put a bullet through the target's head… He doesn’t want to think about it.

He already saw his domestic life passing before his eyes. The police arresting him at home, his daughters terrified and not understanding why they would take their daddy away. Carol at the trial, being questioned if she really didn’t know about her husband’s assassination side hustle, her face puffy and red from crying.

Dave hisses out another curse, hitting the hard wheel in front of him again.

He could always just disappear, always has an emergency duffle bag stowed away with fake IDs and some cash. But he wouldn't stomach it, couldn't stomach it, leaving his family behind.

It was a close call today… He starts the engine and pulls away from the curb, the tail lights of his inconspicuous car slowly blending in with the dozens of others on the nightly roads as he heads home to his inconspicuous life.

The next few days were difficult, to say the least. His higher up at the CIA was a pain in the ass, deadlines were piling up, Molly got sick and needed attention and care, Carol needed his support, the almost-failed mission was still breathing down his neck… He needed a break and there was no break in sight. Not now. His family needs him, his job does, he needs to fucking function now.

“Daddy, ‘m not feeling good,” Molly mumbles, curled up on the couch, her head in Dave’s lap while he’s working on a report on his laptop.

“Just a second, baby.” He’s almost done, he just needs a minute and the worst part of his report would be finished. Molly stirs on the couch, hastily now. God damnit.

“Daddy…” Her little body starts trembling and with a shudder and a sound that makes Dave’s heart hurt, she slumps over and pukes. All over his notes. Over his pants he had just picked up from the dry cleaning. All over the cream colored couch that Carol wanted so badly and that looks like shit now. All over his laptop. The screen flickers a last time before it goes dark.

“I'm so sorry… Please don't be mad, Daddy.” Molly starts crying, feeling sick and miserable, her little hands shaking as she grips her ruined blanket.

The vein on his neck, he feels it throbbing. His laptop, his fucking work laptop, broken. The sticky, disgusting warmth of what once was chicken soup seeps through his trousers and makes his eyelid twitch.

Just pick your baby up, just comfort her, just help her change into new pajamas, just be a good father, just be good…

“Daddy?” She sounds so fragile, her voice nothing more than a weak breath. She clumsily pushes herself up and accidentally nudges the laptop off of Dave’s knees. The carpet swallows the low thud when it hits the ground, but the cracking of the screen is still very much audible, just as much as Molly’s shocked gasp.

“You broke it. You fucking broke it, Molly,” Dave hisses and is on his feet in an instant, his daughter toppling back onto the couch, now crying even more because she upset her dad.

He doesn’t look over to her but picks up his laptop, trying to bring it back to life. The muscles in his jaw clench when Molly’s sobs start pealing in his eardrums. Dave turns towards her, a barked shut up already on his tongue when Carol appears in the doorway.

One quick look is enough for her to assess the situation. Their crying daughter, a picture of misery and guilt written all over her pale face and Dave, nostrils flared and one hand balled into a fist, the unmistakable smell of vomit reaching her nose… No, this wasn’t good.

“It'll take it from here, Dave,” she says when she strides past him. “Go and calm down.” There's no bite to her words, bite wouldn't do any good at this moment. It would only make it worse, make Dave lose the last bits of reason.

Carol scoops Molly up in her arms, pressing a few soothing kisses to the little girl’s temple. She looks over her shoulder and gestures towards the door with a tilt of her chin as if to say please, just go.

And he does. He flees from the living room and the feeling of shame that starts licking at his insides. It gets too much. A thought crosses his mind, a simple calculation, it has been almost ten months since…

A shiver runs through him and he shakes the idea off his mind like a dog tries to shake off an annoying tick. No, he wouldn't need to do it this time, there sure is another possibility to finally get a grip on his life. He just needs to focus more. Needs a better sleep regimen. More training. More protein. More control over all the small bits and pieces of his life.

Dave shuts the door to his home gym behind him and gets to work. If his muscles are trembling and his lungs are begging him for air, he has no time to think about what kind of an asshole father and husband he is. And so he starts tormenting his body to shut off his mind, to keep the guilt and shame at bay. For now.

That night, when he slips under the bed sheets, almost silently to not wake his sleeping wife, the idea creeps back into his head. Like a tick it has sunk its teeth into his skin and he can’t seem to get rid of it since the first time he has done… it.

It has helped him before, more than he likes to admit it. But he hates it. Because he cannot do it on his own. Because he needs someone else doing it for him, to him. And Dave never liked to be dependent on something or someone.

The sheets rustle and Carol’s hand finds his own, wrapping her fingers around his in the darkness as if she was trying to comfort him. But in reality she wanted his comfort and soothing. Dave wasn't a man who was dependent. Because he always was the man everyone else depended on.

He turns on his side and lifts her hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to Carol’s knuckles.

She hums, shuffles closer, her feet slipping between his calves. After a moment of content silence a murmur crawls over the pillows to Dave and settles right on his chest, where the thought about it sits and gnaws at him like a night terror.

“Maybe… maybe you should go see that therapist again? They really helped you the last time.”

Therapist. That was what he told his wife you were. And the things you did, it was therapy. It is, in a way. It helped him. And he hates that it does. He hates that he can’t function like he needs to. He hates that Carol sounds so timid when she suggests therapy, afraid that he could snap at her, too, because she dares to point out his weakness.

He sighs, her soft knuckles still held against his lips. “Is Molly okay?”

“She’s a little better, yes.”

The silence weighs heavy for a moment, Carol’s unanswered question pressing down on Dave’s rib cage. Or is it the feeling of guilt? About being a shit show of a father and husband? About needing you to function, even if it all feels so wrong but afterwards it always feels good and right and he feels better, every damn time?

“I'll make an appointment,” he murmurs and his lips find her ring finger, kissing the spot where the simple golden band always sits. She never takes the ring off, just like him. Carol nestles into his arms, the relief clear when she whispers her thank you, I love you into the hollow between his clavicles. God, he is such a failure, he thinks to himself with his wife in his arms and you in his mind.

You are completely booked out. Months ahead. Of course you are. There never is a shortage of people who want your services. Or to be exact, who need them. So when you received the request for an appointment “asap, ma'am”, signed by David York, you told him you were free again in three months. But then another customer canceled their session and because you like David, you give preference to him.

So a week and a half later you find yourself entering the bar of the Rosewood, one of the finest hotels of the city. Doors magically open because there’s always some finance or marketing guy holding them open for you. Each step with your pointy high heels parts the crowd in front of you and is paved with sleek smiles and licked lips of the men who move out of your way.

You pay them no mind, they only exist at the periphery of your focus. They are not important and will never be. What is important is your customer for this day. You recognize him, the way he sits at the bar, one foot on the footrest of the empty stool next to him, the other one firmly planted onto the ground. Just another pretty man in a suit, interchangeable for most who might look at him.

But for you he was different. A customer, first and foremost. A challenge, too. And he's probably the only man in this bar who is not doubling over to get a crumb of your attention. You had to work for what your customers usually give you gladly and freely: their acceptance and sometimes even devotion.

That is why you like Dave York, because working for him and with him is rewarding. It satisfies you to no end to finally turn his smoothness into something with cracks and weaknesses. And to have him thank you for it.

One of the many men in suits in this bar moves from his place on the outer borders of your attention into the spotlight and obscures the view on Dave. The guy looks you up and down, tries to smile a flirty smile but all you see is a pathetic obstacle. Your mouth already opens to tell him no to whatever suggestion he wants to make, when a big hand lands on the man's shoulder.

Thick fingers, blunt nails, a simple golden wedding band. You look past the surprised strangers face and find Dave, standing behind the man.

“Sorry buddy, not tonight,” Dave tells the man. For a moment they look at each other, like two wolves who found a piece of meat and now silently fight for ownership. Two alphas in suits. But only one of them is a wolf, the other one is just a dog.

“Not ever,” you add when you pass the stranger. The sting of your words gets soothed by your sweet smile, showing off your wolfish canines as you do. Your gaze meets Dave’s own. Two alphas looking at each other again, this time both are wolves.

You don't even bother to care about the other man who disappeared into insignificance as quickly as he had the guts to peek his head out of it. Your focus is solely on Dave now. He looks tired, frail even in the small details of his facial expression. He already looks cracked, maybe you wouldn’t have to work as hard as usual today.

“It has been a while.” You sit down at the bar and Dave gestures for the bartender. He always orders you a drink before you both go up to the booked suite. He never not acts according to the unspoken rules of those kinds of arrangements. He is polite and respectful, even if the air around him very much tastes like aversion. Not against you as a person or the work you do. The aversion is directed against himself and the fact that he was sitting in this bar with you and not at home with whoever was waiting there for him.

He nods his head. That would have to do as an answer. “The usual?” he asks instead when the bartender waits for the order.

“The usual,” you confirm and watch Dave order your vodka on ice. It is a nice change of pace, to not talk and to enjoy the silence, to stretch it like a fabric until it becomes see-through and the silent words between them become audible. Two wolves, dressed in white shirts and blouses, in polished shoes, mustering each other over the rims of their glasses. Sizing each other up.

You take a big sip of your vodka and set the glass down. There’s still a good portion of the booze left, but you need to keep a clear mind for what comes next.

“Are you done?”

Usually he obliges and leaves the rest of his drink on the counter, usually he wants to get over and done with it, with you, with himself. But tonight his need for some more liquid courage is bigger.

“Not yet, ma'am.” His legs spread a little more when he leans back on the barstool. Not in a sleazy manner, not to act like he is hung like a horse. No, taking up space comes naturally to him. And again he is respectful about it. He gives your crossed legs enough room between his thighs, almost like he acts as a buffer between the bustling bar and you.

A thought crosses your mind and makes you smile. He is protective, even though you mean nothing to him. You stretch out your leg, just enough to let the tip of your pointed stiletto brush against his shin. A silent praise for him being good.

Dave’s hand suddenly grabs your ankle, following his first impulse of inhibiting an unwanted touch. Your eyes snap up and meet his, your surprise showing in your raised brows. The grip of his fingers loosens immediately, like he touched something that he wasn’t allowed to, like a too hot cookie fresh from the baking tray.

“Finish your drink then.” A demand dressed up as a friendly request. You pull your foot away, Dave’s privilege of getting a feel for you is already over.

“Yes, ma'am,” he says lowly, just loud enough to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the bar. He swirls his drink in his glass and takes another look at you. You look like some partner in a law firm or some higher up shoving around numbers on paper and employees in meetings. Expensive clothes, expensive designer bags, expensive heels. He had seen them often enough to know that you only wear those 700$ pairs. You’re sleek, smooth, polished, with edges that look round and safe to touch but will cut through skin and flesh if you want to.

He takes a sip of his drink and watches you smile, the red lip stretching over your teeth. He feels a part of him getting excited, this one stupid part of himself, the part which constantly makes troubles. Some corner of his brain just loves this. And apparently needs it too, needs it to make him function as a person. This little part loves to make you smile. And he hates it.

You let him finish his drink, let him buy himself a few more minutes before you leave the bar and enter the grand and shiny hotel lobby. Having people move out of your way just by the way your heels click is satisfying. But having someone in front doing it for you is better. You watch Dave plowing through the lobby as he makes his way to the elevators. His ass looks cute, you think to yourself and enter the cabin with him.

He’s so well behaved for you, pressing the buttons, shielding you from the other guests and making sure you can stand comfortably without anyone standing too close to you, himself included, You smile at him again and for a moment one corner of his lips twitch. Good, that's good. He's responsive tonight.

Dave exits the elevator and struts through the long hallway, countless doors left and right until you reach the right one. A quiet beep when the key card opens the door, muffled footfall on the thick carpet and a discreet click when he closes and locks the door behind you both again. Another reason you love this hotel so much, beside the soft beds and high end shower products in the marble bathrooms: the soundproofing.

No matter how hard the stomp, how loud a scream, how sharp a smack, the walls of these rooms seem to swallow the noises and they are never sated. They drink down every word and whisper and always seem to want more. Like the people you work with.

“Tell me about your rules and limits tonight, David,” you say and look around the suite for a moment. You gesture for him to sit down on one of the plush chairs facing a full body mirror.

All you know about Dave is his name, his phone number and another number as an emergency contact. The rest is guesswork you did over the last months and years. The golden ring on his ring finger? He never takes it off. He's married or maybe widowed.

Dave takes off his jacket and hangs it over the backrest of the velvet chair. One time a little toy figurine fell out of his pocket when he took his jacket off. So there must be a child who he has a close enough relationship with for it to sneak little gifts into his pockets. This time nothing out of the ordinary happens. He simply follows your instructions and sits down.

“The same as always.” He lifts his hips again to tug his slacks down, just enough for them to not cut into his groin. “Nothing that leaves marks on me, no touching me between waist and knees, no restraints, no gagging, nothing enters my body, nothing leaves my body without my consent.”

Yeah, just like you thought. “So basically just talking. You know, you could have ‘just talking’ a lot cheaper, down at the bar for example.” You pull a chair for yourself closer to Dave, with the mirror diagonal behind it.

“I'm not here for just talking,” he says quietly with his eyes fixed on his knees.

“Oh I know, don't you worry.” You sit down now, your legs crossed over your knees and one of your high heels swaying in the air just between Dave's spread legs. “Next: safety. Repeat the rules for me, will you?”

He looks up at you and sighs. “We use the color system. Green means more, yellow means keeping the intensity, red means stop.” He likes the simplicity of this system, appreciates it at home, and loves the way Carol loses it whenever he keeps her on yellow for a little too long. But he doesn’t like to be the one using it himself.

“Good. What else means stop?” Your leg is slowly bouncing up and down and Dave's focus shifts to the pencil thin heel for a moment.

“The… the safeword. Helsinki.”

His eyes meet yours again. Dark ponds of raging brown, the storm behind them perfectly contained, for now. “And…?” you prompt, prodding him a little bit with the sweetness in your voice.

“And there's no shame in using my safeword. Or not using it if I'm… feeling good.” He almost chokes on the last words. There is shame in the whole situation, no matter how he looks at it. But you smile again and this one part of him is relieved. He did good, fuck.

“Good job, you remembered,” you praise and the shiny leather of your shoe ghosts along his calf. “Let's start then. No touching yourself or me and no talking unless I tell you to. Got it?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He never sounded less enthusiastic than now. His pretty mouth curves into the tiniest scowl and he looks a little more handsome like this. In another life you two could have a lot of fun. Real fun. Fucked up fun.

In another life you might kneel before him and beg for some peace of mind. He could be the therapy the therapist needs. But not in this life. Because in this he was the one needing peace of mind and you were the provider.

“Now, Dave, I want you to take a deep breath and look at yourself in the mirror. Right into your eyes.”

He obeys. When he meets his own gaze through the mirror the scowl becomes more prominent. You will let him sit with his own thoughts for a minute or so. Enough time to recap your last sessions with him.

Pretty quickly into your business relationship with Dave you found out about his history with the military. No details really, you just knew that he had served for several years. Being degraded on a daily basis in your forming years does something to the brain. And it surely did something to Dave's brain because his tough outer layer cracked beautifully for you as soon as you called him a ‘weak fucking loser’.

And that was all that you did since then: humiliating him, watching him turn from the hard and controlled man into one who is struggling to loosen up and finally a man who spits out ‘Helsinki!’ and flees from the scene with a raging boner. He is the weirdest customer you have. Because his requests are so tame, so small scaled for what you could do and for what he could really take.

But all you had to do was calling him names and having him palm himself through his pants. You are not exactly complaining, he paid you as much as the guys who go the whole nine yards. Dave makes you work for your money though. It is a fight, every time.

You see it in his face, he is fighting right now, while he stares himself down through the mirror. A fight he can never win. His upper lip twitches, like he is going to growl at his own reflection any moment. Oh, it is clear as day to you, he really needs this session.

You might need to switch things up a bit, you want your customers satisfied after all. And the way he glares at himself tells you that he needs more today.

“What are you thinking, tell me.”

Your voice pulls him out of his spiraling thoughts. It’s sweet like honey but also sticky. He knows that your mouth is a sugary trap. Every word and gesture and touch a carefully laid out crumb to lead him to where you want him: staring up at you, doing whatever it takes to get your sugar lips to smile at him.

A little nudge of your heel against his thigh. A little harder than it had to be to get his attention. He doesn’t like that he likes it.

“Whimp,” Dave says with heartfelt disdain.

“What else? And keep looking at yourself.” Your heel digs a little more into his thigh and you can feel the tremble of his muscle beneath his slacks. He sure was a runner, you think. Thick thighs look so pretty with a few streaks on them. But no, no marks. “You can tell me everything, you know?”

Dave swallows thickly, the soft velvet of your voice is making his throat tight. He's trapped, caged in between your shiny stilettos and your mouth. His thigh throbs against the thin heel.

He takes in his reflection, the man in power, in slacks and a crisp white dress shirt, in polished shoes. A high heel prodding him. His fingers clutching the armrests. His face tight and sour. His wedding ring glinting.

“Cheater.”

You hum, pleased with his answer and gracing him with a small smile in return. So he is in a relationship. Good, this would make it easier. For you.

Your foot moves, the pointy heel being exchanged with the flat of the sole, pressed against his inner thigh. You drag it up the seam, just a little bit.

This is breaking the ‘no touching’ rule. And yet, he endures, fighting his silent internal fight.

Interesting.

“What’s your color, love?” You tilt your head to the side, enjoying how Dave’s nostrils flare at your audacity. He is defying the sweetness of your words. But he wants more of the stickiness. Just a little bit. It won’t hurt, right?

“Green,” he grits out. Fucking whimp, cheater, loser, failure, he tells himself silently through the mirror. Your sole moves higher now, the pointy tip already indicating towards your final destination.

Green. He wants more, he will get more. Your shoe slides higher and leaves a trail of dusty dirt on his clean pants. He will hate that, you know he will, because you would be pissed off, too.

“Are you not embarrassed, Dave? Sitting here, paying money for this? What would she say, if she knew?”

His eyes snap from the mirror to you, the corner of his lips move into another scowl. The wolf would be baring his teeth soon.

You tap the sole of your shoe against his crotch, just enough for a little sting that lets him jump slightly. Dave looks at you, stunned. Such a pretty sight.

“Oh what's with the attitude now? Did I say you could look at me?” You smile at him, the tip of your tongue running along the edges of your teeth. “Do you think you deserve it, looking at me, dummy?”

His eyes widen and his mouth opens, ready to protest, to call this off, ready to show you your place. But the only thing leaving his throat is a choked sound. Probably because you keep rubbing your foot into his groin, pushing into the not-so-soft-anymore softness.

“Eyes back on the mirror.” Another quick rap, sole meeting joined seams, another jolt and, oh yes, a moan, finally. The walls with their expensive satin tapestry greedily drink down the throaty sound. “Now.”

Your command has nothing of the powdered sugar quality anymore and he obeys. Who even is he, he wonders for a moment of clarity when he meets his own eyes through the mirror again. A stupid man, growing hard under the shoe of a stranger, a stupid man with a loving wife at home. A stupid man with guns hidden all over town. Growing hard.

He looks into the mirror, feeling detached from his own reality. He watches the shiny shoe move between the thighs of this man in the mirror, he sees the stomach of the man tense under his dress shirt, he notices how the man's mouth opens. He hears him groan, this man who looks like himself.

“God, are you seriously turned on by this? That's embarrassing. No wonder you pay me for it instead of getting it at home.” You love being mean for money and you love how Dave writhes beneath your high heel and squirms under your gaze. “Do you like this? Answer me, dummy.”

“Yes.” You only get a single hissed word as an answer. Adorable.

“Yes what?” you hiss back, applying a little more pressure to the bulge showing so beautifully.

“Yes, ma'am,” he snarls now. The wolf is showing his teeth and you're gonna pull one out. You are the only one allowed to bite in this arrangement.

“Christ, do I have to spell it out for you, stupid?” Your foot drops lower, right over the tight little package nestled under the thick, elongated dick outline. The pointy shoe tip slowly pokes into the squishy warmth of Dave’s clothed balls. His breath hitches. “Yes, ma'am, what?” you prompt him, the sugar returning to your words.

“I… I like this, ma'am.” His eyes are still glued to the picture in the mirror and he seems to register that this is him. The visual of an expensive high heel pressing against balls matches the thrumming, stingy feeling of pain in his own slacks. And another thing belongs to him, besides the pain. The jumping hard-on, right above this damned shoe.

He swallows thickly, his blunt nails digging into the velvet of the armrests. “Fuck. I like it,” he stutters, staring at his face, like he is seeing himself for the first time. Like he recognizes himself. His stormy eyes become a little calmer, the silent internal fight becoming more quiet.

“There we go. Good job.” You pull your foot away from him and lean closer, elbows to knees, one finger coming up to his chin. He just now notices that your nail polish matches your lipstick. The color would look good around his dick. In another life.

“Look at me,” you croon, laying out your trap for him again. The pad of your finger so warm and gentle under his chin, guiding his eyes to yours. You're smiling, red stretching over white, he did good and his cock throbs against the zipper. He’s wagging his tail for you.

“Good boy.” You lean closer and he can smell your perfume, the mint and vodka on your breath, your amber-scented dominance tinted in black and scarlet. The sweetness of your praise coats his tongue and he swallows it down, to make it a part of him. A little secret part on the inside only he knows about. 

“Color?” Soft, alluring, a trap made for him to curl up in.

He takes a moment to think, but not too much. The thinking part of his brain was already beginning to shut down. “Green,” he rasps with his eyes fixed on the way your eyebrows dance when you smile again.

“Good. Now, I have a question for you.” Your thumb rubs against his chin, just enough to feel the day worth of scruff beneath the digit. “Will you take your cock out for me? Let me see him?”

Gentle eyes, soft words, tender chin scratches. You have his tail wagging. Slowly, slowly you are domesticating him into a dog, one praise at a time.

Dave nods his head. There’s no harm in showing his dick. That doesn't make him a cheater, he tells himself. Maybe he could make you smile again, he knows he has a good cock. Good balls too. Maybe you could squish them again. Just a little bit.

“That's a good boy. Show him to me. Show me how hard I make you.” You lean back in your chair and watch Dave hesitantly fumble with his belt, then top button, then zipper. He still has a little fight left in him. You would be concerned if not. A man like him will never give up completely, that is what makes him so interesting for you, so much fun to play with.

The teeth of the zipper hiss, the fabric rustles when he pulls it over his ass and down his thighs, over his knees. He looks a bit disgraceful like this, sitting in the velvet chair, slacks pooled around his shoes, tented black briefs, looking at you expectantly. You would have let him take his shoes off and fold his pants if he wanted. But he chose to be… excited. And a little impatient. Truly adorable.

You move a little closer again, inspecting what you can see so far. You never saw his dick and usually you are not too keen on seeing your customers’ genitals, they were just extensions, more of the canvas you like to work on. But since Dave always made a fuss about decidedly not showing signs of arousal you became curious. Out of professionalism, of course.

It was looking good, the tent. A thick head pressed against the cotton and crowned with a now black, later milky stain.

“You’re leaking? For me?” You sound like he presented you with a bouquet of flowers or a painting he doodled with crayons. You reach out, your fingers stopping shy before touching the wet spot. You look up at him, a glint of horror in his eyes. No touching, with your hands. “Is this okay?”

A head shake and a dry swallow, then he finds his voice again. “No. Ma'am. I’m sorry.” You touching him would be cheating; in his head this makes sense.

“That's okay, don't worry.” You purse your lips, tapping a finger against the red on them. Then you hold out your hand, palm up. “Lend me a hand?”

Dave hesitates. His dick protesting with stirs against the briefs, not caring about who would touch him and how. He puts his hand in yours, trusting that you would accept his limit.

And you do, of course, you're a professional. Which means you know how to work your way around limits and how to stretch boundaries. You guide his thumb to the wet, glossy spot and rub the pad over the fabric, once, twice, until Dave grunts from the tingling friction.

“Let me know how you taste,” you coo and lift his thumb to your mouth. You open it wide, your tongue sticking out, reversing the roles but he still is your wolf in a dog costume. His eyes glint and for a second you can smell his dominance, too, lingering under the scent of his precum.

Two beasts who recognize each other, just for the fragment of a second, as you look into each other's eyes. But only one can be in charge tonight. You lean in and take his thumb into your mouth. Deeply. You sink down until your lips leave a red lipstick print around the base, one half on his palm, the other half on the back of his hand.

He tastes salty, with a sharp bite to it, just like the man himself. He presses his thumb deeper, can’t resist to have the upper hand with you just once. Your pussy clenches. She likes him.

Oh, in another life, you would let him wreck you. But not now. You suck his finger until you can’t taste his precum anymore and pull off of him.

“Kneel.”

He huffs and his brows draw together. “What?”

“Wrong answer, stupid.” Your foot snaps up, sole pushed against his hard dick, pointy heel somewhere in between his balls. “Try again.”

There it is again, the storm in his eyes. He is so much fun to work with, so easy to rile up, always keeps you on your toes. The same toes that feel Dave's cock throb through his briefs and the leather of your shoe. You move your heel from left to right, just enough to make him squirm and hiss.

“Yes, ma'am.” That's what he says but it sounds a lot like ‘fuck you’.

You laugh at that, sit back in your chair and put your foot back down on the ground. “That's more like it. Come on, chop chop. On your knees.”

He does as he is told. Growling and glaring, avoiding his ridiculous reflection in the mirror, of a tough guy with his pants around his ankles and leaking like his cock is drooling for you. Dave finds himself on his knees as he sinks into the thick carpet. Your feet are right in front of him, he catches a glimpse of his face in the glossy black tip of your heels. He looks twisted, but unmistakably like him.

“And now: touch yourself. Over your briefs. Nice and slow. Eyes on my shoes.” You place one foot on his thigh and his eyes follow the movement without moving too much. “You seem to like them?”

His hand, the one with your lipstick on it, runs along his length, slowly, calculated, avoiding his sensitive tip as he does. “Yes, ma'am,” Dave mutters and squeezes his girth like he's trying to soothe himself because your voice doesn’t do it anymore. It's all harsh now and not sticky-sweet.

Your heel gets pressed into his thigh, the thin end biting into his skin. “Yes, ma'am, what?”

His jaw ticks. His thumb is soothingly rubbing over the head of his cock, knuckle pushed against the underside. “Yes, ma'am, I like your shoes.”

“I thought so. You got so hard for them, didn’t you?”

He takes a deep breath and keeps on palming himself, a steady back and forth. The wet blotch grows. “I-...” He breaks off when you start caressing his balls with your sole. Back and forth. Front to back, in the same rhythm as he strokes himself. “I did get hard for them, yes. For you, ma'am.”

He just wants some of that sugar back, some of those honeyed words from you. He's on his knees already, what else could you want?

You let him kneel and watch his hand move, register his hip twitch. You brush your fingers through his hair, just a light pet.

“Take him out now. I can look at him, right?”

He nods his head and tugs himself out. Caught behind the waistband you get a first peek. Girthy, a stunning color, a dusty rose turning into an earthy pinkish-red, cut, a clear bead of precum forming over the slit before it runs down and spreads over the already glistening skin.

With another tug he pushes his briefs under his sack, forcing it up nice and tight, right under his cock. He has a slight curve, too. Fucking perfect. Your pussy clenches again.

Dave's hand fists the base, some of your red lipstick transfers to his shaft. The closest your mouth will probably get to him. Such a shame, you think, swallowing down some pooling spit, because you really would like to get a sore jaw from sucking him off.

“Now that's a pretty cock you got there. Hold still.”

You crouch over to Dave and place your palm over his hand, giving his dick a good squeeze with Dave's hand. 

“I won't touch him, I promise. But let me guide you.” Molasse thick, that's how your voice sounds. Almost too thick to be swallowed down. 

He manages to do it nonetheless. Ignoring that this is out of the comfort zone of David York, the husband and father. But oh, those words taste delicious for the man who knows rules and laws but lives outside of them. 

His own hand relaxes under yours and with the first stroke another yes, ma'am drips from his lips. 

This is a strange feeling. He guided several hands in his life, taught them where to rub, how to twist, how much to squeeze. But having his own hand touch him with those foreign movements was… new. Sexy. Frustrating too, because you seem to know exactly what not to do.

He looks down between his thighs and sees two hands moving and he really tries to imagine it was just your hand. He wants your touch. Christ, he wants your mouth on him, too. And you would do it, you would gladly accept the proposal and call him a good boy again. But he can't. He can't do it, it's not the right thing to do. He feels his wedding ring slide up over his tip and back down. No, he can’t have you touch him directly.

But he can give in to you a little more. His dignity hangs over the other chair, taken off together with his jacket right at the beginning. You might as well make him your bitch. He throbs against his fingers and Dave asks himself if you can feel it, too. Without being able to stop it his hips buck into his fist, your fists. You were moving his hand so goddamn slow, he needs more. More pressure, more speed.

“Are you not happy, love? Are you being ungrateful?” You slow down even more until your palms reach his top again. Dave has lubed himself up so nicely with his own precum, you can feel it spreading between your own fingers. With a tight grip you flick and twist, like screwing open a bottle, twisting the cork out of a bottle of champagne. 

Dave’s body jerks as do his hips and he moans again, feeding the soundproofing of the hotel room the delicious sounds he makes.

You tut at him, smirking and mocking and twist his hand over his cock again.

“Oh, so you are ungrateful? You have to ask for the things that you want, dummy, That's how this works.” You loosen your grasp and straighten your back, cross your arms and then your legs until the sole of your shoe hovers over his balls. “So…? Are you ungrateful?”

He shakes his head and fights the urge to rock himself against your shoe. More precum gets pushed out of his slit, he fucking aches. He could just spit out the safeword and jerk it in his car, like usual. But he is too proud for that. He is going to finish what he started here, in this room with you.

“No, I’m not. I just-...” he breaks off when you start bouncing your foot, knocking against his balls with almost gentle pats. Dave clutches his girth with a groan, his hips bucking forwards again. “I…,” he strokes himself once, hoping you would get the implications without having to put it into words.

A finger hooks under his chin again, he can smell himself on your skin. A nudge and he looks at your face again, the way you bare your teeth at him in a graceful smile doesn't cover up the authoritative tone hidden in your sweet words.

“You already did so good today. But I want you to do one last thing, yes?” You rub your finger under his chin, smearing some of his sticky precum over his skin. “Will you try it, for me?” 

He'd do a backflip, if you kept up the carrot and stick game for a little longer. 

And then you do it again, showing him the treat he could have if he only was a good enough boy for you. You start licking your hand clean. Languid laps with the flat of your tongue, starting with the little finger.

“Love, I want you to fuck your hand. You don't have to hold back.” You suckle on the tip of your finger before licking Dave's salty residue off of the next one. You stop at the tip, twirl your tongue around the fingernail painted all ruby and smile at him. Just as if you were licking an ice cream spoon clean. 

“Just make sure to keep your hand still and fuck into it.” Now middle and index finger. Your tongue runs over both of them before you put them into your mouth. In and out they go, sluggish and without hurry, you hum at the taste like it's the sweetest cream. 

And then, instead of doing a backflip, Dave starts moving his hips. His eyes glued to your mouth and the red of your lipstick transfers to your fingers before it disappears in the dark, tight, wet cavern of your mouth. 

His hand doesn't feel anywhere close to what he imagines your mouth does. Dave is just glad that he can finally care for his aching boner. With every thrust, in sync with your fingers sliding in and out between your lips, his balls slap against the leather sole of your shoe. It stings, but it stings good. He didn’t even know he liked this before tonight. Before your expensive stiletto pressed and rapped and pushed into them.

He ruts his hips faster now, not matching the speed he needs, but he makes it up with squeezing himself hard. Soft squelches come from between his legs now with every back and forth. More noises for the thick carpet and walls to swallow, never to be heard again.

You’re sucking on your thumb now while Dave's clutching himself harder, hips thrusting in a relentless pace. He fucks his hand like you told him to. 

He looks so perfect in the mirror, that little piece of ass that you can see from your angle. Clenching and unclenching, the movements draw you in, hypnotize you. The perfect cream-white canvas for blotches of red and sprinkles of violet, for scarlet streaks, oval imprints of your teeth even. 

You lick your lips when his thighs start trembling. How good he would look if he fucked himself on your strap-on. In another life, you muse and press your thighs together. The sound your thumb makes between your lips resembles the one that will come from your wet cunt later, when you're at home again. With Dave's salty taste in your mouth and a girthy vibrator, one to match the size of his cock.

His eyes meet yours again, just for a second before they dart down to your tongue again when you start licking your palm. He's still in there, the hard man, the one who's fighting against himself, the one who probably whispers insults inside his head. You can see him in that short moment, somewhere swimming in the stormy mahogany.

You stop licking your palm when Dave winces after snapping his hips harder into his hand and his balls against your sole. He’s at his personal limit.

“Almost there, love, hm?” Another lap to your palm, seemingly unbothered by the state he is in. “Do you want to come?”

He groans and growls, his glutes are burning, his knees hurt, his fucking balls thrum. Oh, he wants to come alright. “Yes, ma'am,” he grits out.

“Say that you're pretty when you fuck your hand for me.” Your tongue flicks over your palm again and reveals your canines again. Just a wolf cleaning her silky fur.

If the need for his orgasm wasn't bigger than his pride, he would have rolled his eyes and fucked that smug smile right out of your face. But he really, really needs to come. He is so close. He can play along a little longer.

“I'm pretty when I fuck my… fucking hand for you,” he snarls and a something in the depth of his guts starts fluttering with a burning strength.

“Good job. You really are pretty like that, love.” You pull the leg of your pants up, the heavy, black fabric now rests bunched up on your knee. Dave still ruts into his hand, chasing the release he knows he can’t have that easily. 

“Say ‘I will make a pretty mess for you, ma'am.’,” you order and push your fingers through his hair, careful to not ruin his side part. A single unruly strand gets fixed with your spit-wet fingers. Nothing that leaves marks on me. Well, he can wash off your little saliva mark later.

More carrots, more sweet words and sugar touches, more of your smug but also content smile. Christ, he just wants to do something right. And you are offering him an easy fix. Dave whines and leans into your touch. Vigorously he pounds his hand, his balls trapped between his waistband and your sole and it all feels so warm, hot, his pulse beats in his ears and throbs in his straining cock. “I will make a pretty mess for you, ma'am. Fuck. I need to move my hand.”

His big browns look up at you, same parts furious, pleading and desperate.

“Say please,” you chirp and tilt your hips to feel the middle seam of your pants pressed against your clit. “Be good, say please and you can come for your ma'am.”

“Please. Fuck, please!” he barks as he steps into your honeyed trap you have laid out for him from the beginning. He is stuck in it knees first, tail between his legs, barking, howling, wagging. How to catch a wolf.

“That's my good boy. Go on, you can come. Make a mess.”

He did good, thank god. Dave starts moving his hand, jerking his cock hard and fast, his teeth sink into his flew to bite back a loud howl when he feels himself coming.

It is beautiful to watch for you, how his eyes roll back slightly, how his hand moves so fast that the smacking sounds are like a rapid fire, how he thrusts a few more times into his tight fist until he squirts his thick creamy cum all over. It feels hot on your skin, like molten wax poured over your shin, down to your foot and finally your high heel.

You moan in unison with Dave. You never are above feeding the soundproofing some of your noises as well. An offering to the gods, to keep you blessed with men like Dave.

He continues to stroke himself, choking on a few whimpers, milking the last remnants of cum out of him. His wedding band isn't shining as much now, all dull and foggy with his seed dimming the golden hue. His hand trembles, his runner thighs tremble too, his briefs, still tucked under his balls, are ruined and he slowly, slowly loosens his hard grip around his cock.

“Love, you did so good. That wasn't so hard, was it?” His cum starts running down your leg now and you both watch it for a moment. 

“I'll get you a tissue,” he mutters breathily, ready to finally get off his knees and gain some dignity back.

“Nuh uh. Clean up without tissues or towels.” Nothing enters my body without my consent. He looks at you and scoffs out single disbelieving laughter. You shrug your shoulders. “Listen, you came this far. You can be a coward and use your safe word. Or you can take responsibility and clean up the mess you made. It's an easy task.”

You are right. It is an easy task, compared to the mess his life is. It's easy. It's easy. It's easy. He leans forward and swallows, thickly. He looks up at you and sticks his tongue out. It's easy. 

You lift your leg up to his mouth, nodding your head, smiling, baring your teeth like a docile pet wolf. Dave's tongue meets your skin, smooth under his slick, powdery scent under his salty stench. He licks a stripe from your ankle up your shin, then another one and another one. Slowly. It's easy. One lick at a time. Fixing the mess he made.

His clean hand holds your foot, nestled in your stiletto, and he laps his cum from the bridge with shorter strokes. 

Dave doesn't flinch away from his own taste, he’s licked his own hands clean often enough to enjoy it to a degree. A form of cannibalism, eating his young, feasting on his own potential.

He cleans your skin, lifting your foot higher and his tongue pressed into the small gaps between the leather and your toes. You pet his head again, humming, purring under his ministrations. Dave's lips purse half above the leather and half above your skin, a small kiss before he sucks his cum out of the tiny gap.

It really is easy. He licks over the glossy black, leather and salt coating his senses, another sugary good boy in his ears and in his hair your claws graze over his scalp. 

A few more licks and kisses and the creamy white has disappeared from the shiny piece of leather. He can see himself in it again. A twisted image, but unmistakably Dave.

He rubs his spit into the smooth animal skin, you can wash his mark off later if you want. He's done. With cleaning and with this. It's over, for tonight at least.

He lowers your stiletto onto the thick carpet again and offers free sight to his spent cock, heavy and sticky. No more wagging, no more dog. He's back to being an equal.

“You did amazing, Dave. Really good.”

Your hand falls to his shoulder, giving him a gentle pat before you rise to your feet and over him your hand to pull him up. He takes it, groaning quietly when his knees crack. Dave feels a little shaky, or maybe more shook than shaky. But he feels good, lighter, loose. Not even ashamed.

“Can I get you anything? Something to drink, something to eat?” You don't even wait for his answer and turn to the minibar, pulling out a cold water for him.

“No, thank you. I'm good. I'll just take a quick shower.” With a thud his shoes land on the floor as he kicks them off. His slacks follow, then his damp briefs.

You watch him undress, amazed and attracted to his confidence and nonchalance, attracted to what lies beneath Dave's clothes, too. In another life you two would be a great match. 

“Do you want me to wait for you?” You turn towards the minibar again, looking for something else. There it is, a kitkat.

“You don't have to, but thank you.” Dave smiles at you and shrugs his shirt off his shoulders. He holds out his hand now, naked in front of you and not bothered by it. Smug. Big dick energy and he can afford it.

You shake his hand, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment. “Until the next time then. Take good care, Dave.”

You smile at each other, the possibilities of being reckless crackling between you, but then he lets go of your hand and turns his back towards you, heading into the bathroom. When the water starts running behind closed doors you take his shirt from the pile of clothes and nuzzle into the fabric. It's a good smell. Masculine, of course.

Slipping a few fingers into your pants and deeper, behind the elastic of your lace underwear and still deeper, dipping them into your sopping pussy, you inhale his scent deeply, clenching to the thought of his tongue on your skin.

You treat yourself to a moment with your fingers buried in your cunt before you pull out again. You write your name on the inside of his collar, invisible ink made out of your slick, setting a scent mark, a last reward for this good boy. 

When Dave enters the room again later you have disappeared, in thin air, no trace of you is left. But something churns inside of him when he gets dressed. 

Later, in his car, it clicks. Pussy. It smells like pussy, right in front of him. You god forsaken menace. Of course you had to have the last word. Marking him, mocking him, making him hard again. And of course your pussy smells delicious. Sticky sweet. He groans and adjusts himself, driving home a little faster now.

The house lays in silence when he steps over the threshold. The girls are fast asleep, he checked it immediately with a peek into their rooms. Carol is asleep as well. Soft and warm and plush under the blanket, curled up on her side. Dave kicks his shoes off and steps out of his slacks and briefs. They are still damp in the front, from the precum you urged out of him. But the shirt stays on. 

He slips under the blanket and pulls Carol closer, her perfect ass against his already half-hard cock. A hand gently kneads one of her breasts, the other one tugs down her pajama pants. 

She's awake in no time, whimpering when he grinds against her rear and lets his dick glide between her ass cheeks.

“Therapy was good?” Her voice is so soft, always sweet for him, never harsh, rarely ever does a no come from her.

“Yeah. Missed you…” he mumbles into the crook of her neck, biting and pulling on her skin until she winces softly.

“Dave-...”

He pinches her nipples and she winces again. A waft of your pussy hits him and he breathes it in deeply.

“Color, baby.”

“What?” Carol chuckles, not yet believing that she’s about to be fucked by her always loyal, always loving and caring husband.

“You’ve heard me. Give me your color.” His cock now slides between her legs and through her folds. He’ll slick her up real good, leaking already with a quiet thrumming sting in his balls. Carol’s pussy feels as good as yours smells.

“Green,” she gasps and rocks back against him.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls before biting the flesh over her shoulder blade and pushing into her.

When Dave finally is satisfied, soaked in Carol and him, she rolls on her back and watches him get a warm towel for her. Whatever this therapist did with Dave, it did wonders. He should go more often.

thank you for reading! and remember, kids, comment or reblog to show me I've been a good girl and did a good job, please and thank you

find my Dave York masterlist here

find my general masterlist here

more a/n: I'd probably suck as dominatrix, shout-out to all the bad ass professionals and hobby dom(me)s out there, you are amazing and I'm literally on my knees for you

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 4

Part 3

"And you said yes?", Robin said, her voice impressively even.

"I did", Steve said, phone on speaker as he got ready for work. "I figure, if he's going to have a sugar baby, might as well be me, right? I think this is the universe giving me a break."

"Okay, yeah, sure, until he takes you out and gets you involved in like drugs or something, or takes his anger out on you when he doesn't win a Grammy or something. Or worse, you're a mistress and his actual spouse comes for revenge. OR you actually get really involved with him, help him get even more famous, have very talented children, but then his drug running gets you arrested and when you get out of jail he acts like he doesn't know you and estranges your children!"

Steve paused in putting on his shoes, grinning. "You've been watching Empire."

"Terrence did Taraji so dirty Steve."

"But not enough to learn their characters' names. I need you to catch up so we can watch season 2 together." It hurt being away from her. Before, whenever one of them started obsessing over a show, they could literally sit down and put aside one of their days off to binge a bunch of episodes.

"Sorry, let's get back to you dating a rockstar? Steve? Steve."

"We're not dating. He's just gonna text me whenever he wants to fuck. That's it. He might buy me something nice from time to time." Steve grabbed his keys and went out the door, nearly stepping on something left on the floor in front of it.

"Okay, yeah, sure, but isn't this the reason you cut your parents out? Did they want this exact life for you?", Robin asked.

"No, this is totally different. For one thing, Eddie doesn't want commitment. He doesn't want kids out of me. And even if I attend events with him, I'm just arm candy, but you know, in a good way."

"There's a bad way to be arm candy?"

Steve thought back to the functions he had to go to when still under his parents' thumb. There was definitely a bad way to hang off someone's arm like a decoration. He looked to the little box in his hand. No note, but it had clearly been placed in front of his apartment.

He opened it and found an expensive looking watching inside. The face was a cool navy blue color. He didn't need a card to know who it was from.

"Eddie's different from the guys my parents wanted", Steve said. "And when it's over, I'll at least have something to show for it."

"Just don't be stupid about this, dingus. If this goes sideways, I won't be close by to save your ass."

"Noted", Steve said as he closed the box and continued on his way to work.

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

The next time Eddie texted him, it was to go to lunch. It was a more casual setting than before, but still a pretty high end sushi restaurant.

"I must admit, I called you here under false pretenses, Steve", Eddie said as they sat in a booth.

Steve smiled at his serious tone. "I gathered, given our whole arrangement." Being taken out somewhere was typically a prelude for something intimate later, even in a normal relationship. When Eddie asked him out, Steve full expected sex. He wasn't complaining, last time had been very nice. He wondered how long until Eddie sent a simple 'u up?' booty call.

"I have to attend some fancy lunch meeting in a couple days and they're taking us to a sushi place", Eddie started to explain. "Problem is, I hate sushi."

"...Did you...are we here to train your taste buds or something?", Steve asked.

Eddie nodded. "These are some pretty important people and I can't sit there and tell them my favorite fish is whatever they use for fish sticks."

"Pretty sure it's cod."

"What? Nevermind. I just need to get one of everything and force myself to acquire a taste for it", Eddie said, eyes narrowing in focus at the menu.

Steve smiled. It was cute how serious he was being. He thought back to previous gatherings when some alpha would try and force a drink on him or when the hors d'oeuvres being served weren't to his liking.

"Want some advice?", he offered, continuing when Eddie nodded with his big Bambi eyes, "Instead of forcing yourself to like something, you should be able to say why you don't like something."

"Sounds like complaining", Eddie said, putting the menu down.

"No, you sound cultured", Steve clarified. "Watch." He cleared his throat and held up his glass of water. "Thank you for offering, but I only drink water from a natural spring. I prefer Canadian or Icelandic, but I'll take Swedish if you have it. Nothing from Switzerland though, it has this horrid mineral after taste to it." He set the glass down, adjusting under Eddie's wide eyed gaze.

"I don't know if that was bullshit or not but it sounded legit."

"It's legit what some girl said at a party once. I've never sourced where my water came from, but it works for just about anything. If you can articulate why you don't like something, it comes off better than just saying you don't like it."

"What kind of parties did you go to?", Eddie smirked.

Steve shrunk a little. "Just, you know, parties. So what's your experience with sushi?"

"Supermarket stuff", Eddie said simply.

"....You're kidding. How long have you been a rockstar?"

"I didn't realize this was an interview."

Steve tapped the table as he considered something. He looked to the other part of the restaurant. The bar where chefs were preparing the food. He almost asked Eddie a question directly, but remembered his role as a sugar baby. It wasn't his job to ask how much something would cost or even to ask Eddie to spend the money. All he needed to do was ask for what he wanted.

So he moved over to Eddie's side of the booth and leaned in close to his space. "I think you need something a little more...fresh."

"Fresh?", Eddie echoed as Steve led him to stand.

"And flavorful."

"Uh-huh."

"And satisfying", Steve whispered the last part before sitting down at the bar.

Eddie didn't know when Steve got him here but he did and he ordered something called 'omakase' and suddenly the chef's hands got really busy. He put a little filet of something on rice and then took a blow torch to it.

"I didn't know you could cook the fish..."

It was placed in front of him, but Eddie was still skeptical, which Steve noticed.

"'Omakase' means you're trusting the chef to pick out the best for you", he said. Then Steve took his chopsticks and picked up his piece. He ate it in one bite and Eddie subconsciously swallowed as he watched it pass his beautiful lips and then slide down that gorgeous throat. He wasn't even eating sexily, that was just how far gone he was.

Then Steve picked up Eddie's piece and held it to his lips. Eddie didn't even hesitate to open up and let it in. Tender rice, delicate fish, a total opposite to the sushi he'd experienced before. And it didn't stop there. The chef served cut after cut and each time, Steve asked him what he liked or didn't like.

Eddie was no slouch when it came to language. So he was able to come up with that on his own. He had just never considered respectfully refusing food and to do so with a haughty air deserving of a celebrity.

"Mmm, great choice on the shrimp", Eddie praised the chef. "Texture is superb. Sweet on the tongue too. Nice one, Tatsuro-san."

"Better than the crab?", Steve asked.

"I'm sorry, but nothin' beats an old fashioned crab boil for me. It's the only way I can eat crab."

"You've got opinions and you know how to voice them. I never imagined that be an issue for you, but I think you're ready now."

"Oh I've got opinions out the wazoo. I was just taught to never complain about food."

"Good boy", Tatsuro commented as he prepared something else.

"Very good", Steve agreed as an oyster on a half shell was put in front of him and Eddie.

Tatsuro winked at Eddie and he tried not to think about it as they finished up the course. He was absolutely not thinking about how oysters were an aphrodisiac, or how he'd had a great time, or how this felt like a date and not an outing with a hot piece. He wasn't doing a good job of being a sugar daddy, was he?

Time to fix that up right away. He paid for the meal, leaving a generous tip and led Steve out the restaurant, arm around his waist.

"You were extremely helpful. I can honestly say I like sushi now", he beamed. "And I think excellent service deserves a reward."

"You gonna give me a tip too?", Steve teased. And there was certainly a tip Eddie wanted to give him. Really the whole thing, but he had another idea in mind. And thankfully the appropriate place wasn't too far from here.

"You're buying me a suit?", Steve realized as they walked into a tailor's.

"I've got an eye for these kind of things. And you need something to match your new watch", Eddie said. He had a feeling Steve knew what to do, so he let him free.

Steve gave him a look and Eddie made a 'go on' motion. So Steve went, picking out different pieces for himself to assemble a new suit. There was a man awaiting any need of assistance and did so once Steve came out of the dressing room and stood in front of the mirrors.

Eddie was sitting before him, watching as Steve appraised his reflection and the tailor took some of his measurements. The suit was in silver, with a black shirt underneath. He finished of the look with a dark blue handkerchief in the chest pocket. It already looked great. Eddie knew he'd be breathtaking once it was bespoke. He ached to put his hands on him but public decency kept him from doing so.

"You look good enough to show off", Eddie praised.

"You look like you have somewhere in mind", Steve said, looking at the other man through the mirror.

"There's a shindig goin' down that I wouldn't mind having a date to."

Eddie put in the order for the suit to be done the day before the event. "Let's head back to my place."

This time, as they traveled, Steve was the one who couldn't keep his hands to himself. His hand stroked Eddie's thigh, getting close to where he wanted but never actually touching.

"What're you thinking about?", he asked when he noticed how hard Eddie was holding the wheel.

"Oysters. And you." And how he really should get a personal driver on hand.

Steve laughed softly and let a finger do circles on his crotch. "I think our chef was trying to be subtle. But I know what oysters are supposed to do."

"Oh?"

"And I don't need any culinary suggestion to get me in the mood." Honestly, he kind of felt like blowing Eddie now and probably would have chanced it if it wasn't still light out. "Can you be a good boy like he said?"

Eddie nodded.

"Good. Because we still have to take the elevator."

They didn't get as far as they did the first time they took this elevator but Eddie did attach himself to Steve's back and kissed at his neck. Once again, Steve could see their reflection in the wall. Eddie's eyes roamed his torso, wanting to go further but holding back. He only got bold enough to pinch a nipple through his shirt when the doors opened to their floor.

Steve only moved because of Eddie's prompting, finding it very easy to melt in his hold. They got about two steps out of the elevator before Eddie pushed him against the wall, kissing his lips and running his hands up under his shirt.

"Saw you lookin' at yourself in the elevator. Pretty baby likes how he looks?"

Steve's only response was to moan against his lips and rub against his leg. The closest camera was all the way at the end of the hall, though they'd be screwed if anyone opened up their door. He knew he looked good and liked looking good. And he'd seen the way Eddie's eyes were glued to him at the tailor's. That was a good feeling too.

Eddie took out his key card to open up his door and pulled Steve inside. They migrated to the couch, just needing to get horizontal. Steve lied underneath, Eddie's leg in between his again and providing friction as he rutted up against it. It was so hot, Eddie wanted to watch him get off just like this. If he got his pants off he could watch that sweet pussy drag-

Steve nearly jolted off the couch when a loud guitar riff sounded from Eddie's back pocket.

"Shit", Eddie hissed when he realized who was calling. He could ignore it, but he knew they'd just keep it up until they got to his door.

"You need to take that?", Steve asked, voice a little breathless.

"Just-just gimme a moment, it'll be quick." Eddie answered and Steve could be patient. He just couldn't be good and patient. He rubbed at Eddie's arm before taking his hand in his own. He brought it to his lips and swirled his tongue around his index finger, keeping his gaze down at first and then looking up at Eddie.

The man above him was speechless, up until whoever he was talking to shouted at him from the other end and got his attention again. Well, half of it anyway. The other half was on Steve sucking down two of his fingers now. Eddie groaned both in frustration and the beautiful man under him. Steve was only half following the conversation but it sounded like their time together might be cut short.

Eddie hung up with a sigh. "Baby...baby I gotta go."

"Right now?", Steve asked.

"Yeah but...but if you could, I mean you can stay here until I get done. It'll be quick, just a couple of hours tops. And I can take you out to dinner too."

"You want me to stay?"

Eddie's hair shook as he nodded. He stood up, glad he had a bit of time to calm his boner down. Then he saw Steve lying there on the couch, lips kissed wet and certain his lips farther down were just as glistening. He leaned over to cup him between the legs, feeling the warmth through his clothes.

"Don't forget who this belongs to", he growled when Steve whimpered.

"Okay." And because this man was sent from above, he whispered, "Daddy."

Eddie couldn't hold back then, kissing him hard, tongue marking his insides while rubbing Steve through his pants. He unzipped them, thinking he could just get him off quick when the ringtone sounded again. Pulling back was the hardest thing to do.

"Keep it nice and warm for me", Eddie said before fully removing himself.

"Hurry back."

And then Steve was alone. In a rockstar's hotel room. He thought about what a sugar baby might do when their daddy went off for what must be a very important but impromptu meeting, especially when it stopped such a heated moment. It became very obvious what he needed to do and so he headed straight for the bedroom.

Part 5

I need you to know that when I first envisioned this fic it was literally just supposed to be smut with connecting scenes but it somehow turned to "don't catch feelings" and "oops we're accidentally dating" the fic so here we are.

Tag Team

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @marklee-blackmore @dragonmama76 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @sllooney @starman-jpg @oxidantdreamboat @xxbottlecapx @chaosgremlinmunson @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord @beckkthewreck @greatwerewolfbeliever @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Any tips on writing for people with ADHD and a short attention span?

Hello! As someone who was recently diagnosed/had to go through the process of jumping through hoops to get meds, I've been trying to put together some new writing routines to get back on track. It has... been a process. Here are some things I've learned (from my personal experience, your mileage may vary):

Writing everyday doesn't work. I think this really common advice has been debunked overall, but let me tell you, there are days when the energy bar starts on empty and stays there. I can function, but the creative juices aren't there. Trying to stay creative by other means, either by reading or working on another hobby, can be a way for you to keep your day productive instead.

Hard schedules don't work. To reflect the above, I can get up at 5am every damn day, but only some of these days will get work done before work. That isn't to say you shouldn't try to make a schedule and stick to it - you'll definitely get more done that way. But it isn't always going to work, and you shouldn't beat yourself up if you can't keep to it every day.

Being 'plugged-in' definitely doesn't work. The 'oh I need to look up how to spell this oh no I'm twelve pages into a Google hole' is definitely still a trap. To keep focused, keep that instant internet away from you. Need to look up something, slap a note on it and come back when you know you don't need to write another 1000 words.

Medication/caffeine/whatever you use to function can only do so much. I can drink a cup of coffee and immediately slam myself into bed. My meds exist to get me through the work day, which is what I need them to do, but won't always be able to keep me through the extra work day. Trying to stay awake and focused when my brain is fucking done for the day just doesn't work. Instead, I have to focus on what does - writing in the morning or at noon, making time when I know I can still function rather than trying to take it on at the end of the day when I know I'll be spent.

What has been working and I've been trying to incorporate more has been:

Drafting on paper. This has always worked for me, and it continues to work for me. Physically writing the words down and editing as I type them does slow down the work, but it makes much more sense to my brain.

Using color codes/other visual tools. Color-coding characters, using different colored pens for types of notes, and flashcards help me flesh out plots. It makes plotting more like an art project, but that in itself can help me be more creative. If you like working on a computer and not by hand, you can spice up Excel sheets and Google docs with different fonts, templates, and adding notes.

Lists, lists, and more lists. I have a planner for work, I have a planner for my personal life, and I have a notepad where I write down all my daily goals, however small. Using a combination of the three has been working great for keeping me on track. For me, physically crossing things out and checking things off is a great motivator.

Alarms and writing sprints. Slap a timer to a screen and write to it. Use an online writing sprint, hop into a work-focused Twitch stream, or use a timed YouTube video to put yourself in a focused environment with a goal in mind.

Relocate. There are certain areas of my apartment that I've dubbed 'The Ooze Zone' where all I can do when I'm there is get nothing done. Unfortunately, because my apartment is quite small, the Ooze Zone takes up most of it. So if you can't set up an office space or a designated area where your brain knows to get work done, consider checking out your local library, a relatively peaceful park, a friend's house, or a cheap coffee shop. I know somewhere who would just drive somewhere and do 80% of his writing in his car. If you can't do your work from home because your brain won't let you, look into alternatives.

If you have meds, take them. Getting medicated and on the right dose is hard, believe me. I've been trying to get back the swing of things after a. being checked out from not being medicated and b. being checked out from not having the right dosage/type of meds. It is a process, but if you have the ability to seek a diagnoses and treatment, it is worth pursuing. If you have meds, take them on a regular schedule and how your doctor recommends. Add an alarm on your phone to remind yourself. Make it part of your routine. Doing it haphazardly is only doing yourself a disfavor.

And lastly, Get More Sleep. The number one thing that may be fucking you over is not sleeping enough. Having ADHD is directly tied with having more sleeping problems in both children and adults. If you have this problem, it is affecting you way more than you know.

Here's the thing - I thought I had a great sleeping schedule for the longest time, and could not figure out why I was so exhausted half the time. But I recently got a fitness tracker, which informed me that actually, my sleeping patterns were complete dogshit. I may have been in bed for eight hours, but I spent three of them tossing and turning.

Make a sleep schedule and stick to it. Go to bed at the same time of night. Consider getting a sleep tracker to see where your sleep patterns are messed up and what you can change to fix it. This sucks, believe me, but going to bed at 9pm to account for that time you'll spent tossing about before you get up at 6am may be the only way to recover those missing sleep hours. Even if it feels like it's taking away from your free time, you will function better overall.

[irisintheafterglow]

hello!! I hope you’re having a wonderful day/night ^^ I was wondering if u could write about bakugou x deaf reader? Like bakugou’s mom is HOH (which is why she’s always screaming :0) and bakugou knows sign because of that so he can communicate w deaf reader which surprises them!

simple complication, miscommunication (pro!bakugo x deaf!reader)

wc: 2k

cw/tags: established relationship, story of first meeting, strangers to lovers, implied fem!reader but no specific pronouns used (reader does use makeup), guy being an asshole but it's ok because kats scares him away

note: hi!!!! this is probably one of my favorite (if not THE favorite) prompts i've ever received. i'm actually majoring in deaf studies and focusing on increasing deaf/HOH rep in popular media. SO! i really love this prompt. i'm hearing, so i'm always still learning from the deaf and HOH community and acknowledge that i have a lot more to learn! because of this, this is mainly from kats' perspective because i don't think it's appropriate for me, as a hearing writer, to write from the perspective of a deaf reader. i talked way too much, sorry for the long note, and i hope you like this!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

He can’t remember the last time he was this nervous to see his own mother. 

For the twentieth time, he confirmed that the windows were clear of smudges, the floorboards were as shiny as his Hero Award trophies on the living room shelves, and the wiring on the doorbell light was functioning correctly. Everything was as it should have been. Still, an anxious churning in his gut tells him something is wrong and he throws the front door open without thinking, determinedly jabbing his thumb against the button next to the doorknob. As usual, the bright orange light by the “FRONT DOOR” sign above the hallway flashes once. Everything was working as it should have been, so he couldn’t pinpoint why he felt so nauseous. He tests the door light several more times and completely forgets that you were getting ready in the bathroom. 

When he spots you, you’re wearing his bathrobe and a makeup brush is tucked behind your ear. Your eyebrows furrow in concern of why the door light started flashing an hour early as you peek out from the hallway. He gives you an apologetic look, the corner of his mouth turning down in clear dissatisfaction. 

Sorry. Testing the door light. Your mouth opens into an oh of understanding and you nod, taking note of the subtle ways your boyfriend was trying to hide his nerves. His head appears around the corner of the door when you knock your knuckles against the wall to get his attention. 

You’re gonna break your jaw if you keep it clenched like that. His frown only deepens and he can tell you’re trying not to laugh from the way your eyes sparkle. It’s nice that you’re excited to see Mrs. Bakugo again, but he’s already anticipating the tidal wave of disapproving comments about the new place you recently moved into together. Shut the door, Katsuki. You’re letting the warm air out. He reluctantly obeys, following you down the hallway to the master bathroom and hopping up onto the counter to watch you finish your makeup. He’s careful to sit in a spot where you can sign without having to turn to face him; you catch his eye in the mirror’s reflection and put your brush down with a sigh, raising your eyebrows expectantly. Food done? You already know all his dishes have been done since this morning, but you’re still trying to help him take inventory of the things he doesn’t need to worry about anymore. 

Just need to throw some extra stuff on the salad. I’ll do it before we eat. You nod, returning to tapping a neutral color onto your eyelids when you catch his shoulders sag as he huffs. The makeup brush is carefully set down again and your eyebrows return to their expectant position. 

Wanna tell me why you look so… Your fingers flutter around absentmindedly for a few seconds while you look for the right word. Dejected? 

I’m not dejected. 

Your pouty lip says otherwise, you respond with a small smirk. I’ve loved you long enough to read your body language, no matter how stiff or angry. You scrunch your face up in mock wrath and that finally makes him break the tiniest ghost of a smile. Tell me, please, so I can help you. He shakes his head and you set your mouth in a thin line in light-hearted irritation.

You don’t need to help with anything. My mom can just be a lot sometimes. You know that. You shrug, fondly remembering the first time Katsuki brought you to meet his mother. To your boyfriend’s horror, his mother got so excited to sign that she knocked over her wine glass on three separate occasions. And she really likes you, so she might end up accidentally revealing some embarrassing shit about me. 

That’s what I’m hoping for. You shoot him a wink and Katsuki can feel his face become a little warmer. I’m praying that the woman brings baby photos. His face turns a deeper shade of red and you burst out laughing, your smile a sight that he’d never get tired of. Hey, you rap your knuckles against the marble again and force him to look at you. We’ve seen scarier stuff than your mom. 

At least in those situations, I can blast my way out. 

Sure. But, if you blast your way out of tonight, you’re paying for property repairs. He sticks his tongue out at you defiantly and you copy the gesture, smiling to yourself when he slides off the counter and wraps his arms around your torso, resting his chin where your neck meets your shoulder. Your fingers gently trace his cheekbones and he meets your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. We’ll be fine tonight, Katsuki. I promise. Can’t be any worse than our first meeting, hmm? You feel his chest rumble against your back as he groans, hiding his face in your skin as it heats up again. 

The first time you met Katsuki was a very abnormal case of wrong place, right time. A high-threat crime boss had swiped a political candidate off the street the night before the most important debate of the season, following him as he went out to pick up snacks for his assistants. The candidate was a passionate supporter of public policy protecting the liberties of Pros, and to lose him right before an election would be catastrophic for agencies across the country. To the rest of the city, it was a public emergency; for Katsuki, it was a Tuesday night. 

“Pro on the scene, clear out!” His boots cross the police tape and the cops part the way for him like he was an activated grenade, avoiding his gaze and conveniently finding new tasks that were out of his firing range. Someone from some federal agency approaches him blabbing nonsense about how disastrous this would be if the press arrived and he all but tunes them out, his focus zeroing in on a scene happening just outside of the barricaded perimeter. 

It wasn’t uncommon for policemen to command passing civilians to keep moving, but something about the confrontation he quietly approached felt different. In any other case, the civilians would ask the police about something they weren’t allowed to disclose and then they would leave, maybe sticking around to get their ten seconds on the nightly new segment. You were clearly not like those civilians.

“Hey! I’ve got a job to do, so you better get the hell out of here or I’m gonna charge you for disturbing a crime scene!” The cop was screaming at you to the point where his voice broke and you didn’t even flinch, continuing to stare daggers into him from pure frustration. He tries to yell again and you cut him off with a series of ridiculously exaggerated gestures, looking at the policeman like he was dumb as rocks. “I don’t have time for this, and I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying!” But Katsuki does. 

“Oi!” The cop doesn’t hear him as he storms across the concrete, palms crackling. 

“Fuckin’ crazy–” You look ready to bite off the accusatory finger the cop points in your face when a strong gloved hand wraps around the asshole’s wrist, unceremoniously shoving him out of the way to listen to you himself. “Who the fuck–”

“Get lost, fuckface, and take the uselessness with you,” Katsuki seethes, putting just enough heat into his hands for the guy to yelp and scurry away. He turns around to find a scowl intense enough to rival his own and he takes a deep breath, wordlessly encouraging you to take one too. You watch with caution as he tugs his gloves off and stuffs them in his belt. Sorry about him, he signs and you blink, taken aback. These kinds of scenes make everyone on edge more on edge. 

You know sign?

My mom, she’s hard of hearing. Growing up, she taught me sign as a second language. You nod, still eyeing him a little suspiciously. I need to get back to work, but I just want to apologize for him again. You look like you’re about to respond but he looks down, fishing through a pouch of his belt and pulling out a crumpled slip of paper. This is some coupon I got a while back from a business we saved. Buy yourself a coffee. You take the ripped rectangle with a look of disgust and shock and he nods politely, turning to leave. Before he’s even one step away, he finds himself being yanked backward by the collar of his shirt, readying his Quirk to fire on pure instinct and whirling to stare you down like a bull facing a matador. His palm is scorching against your skin when he grabs your wrist, but you don’t relent. What the fuck are you doing? 

I know where they took him. Give me a map and a marker. His eyes widen and he loosens his grip but doesn’t let go, gently guiding you around the barricade, through the crowds of cops, and into the detectives’ truck. He pushes past the people surrounding the table and pulls up a digital map of the city on the touchscreen. 

Everything’s electronic now, so use this as your map, he explains and you nod in understanding, hesitantly tapping a finger on the screen and receiving a bombardment of paragraphs about crimes in the area. Dynamight’s hand moves up and down at the edge of your vision and you look up, still unsure how you’re supposed to use such a complicated piece of technology. I know. It’s over-engineered and stupid. Do you know the exact address where they took him? You shake your head and he grimaces, running a hand through his hair.

I don’t know the address, but I know the directions of how to get there. On this map, where’s the convenience store? His pointer and index finger swipe around the screen, spreading out as he zooms in on the 2D representation of the site where the candidate was taken. You copy his actions and zoom out slightly again, making sure to remember which rectangle was the convenience store. Is there a way to draw on this? Dynamight pushes a button on the edge of the table and a marker pops out. Cool.

It’s the only cool function this thing has. Everything else just makes my job harder, he signs and swears he can see the slightest smile on your face while he hands you the marker. Miraculously, you’re able to copy the navigation route you saw on one of the thug’s phones while you waited in line at the convenience store. You circle the building in bright pink and the Pro wastes no time, barking out orders to surrounding cops and re-donning his gauntlets and one glove. His ungloved hand helps you down from the truck and he pulls you aside, away from the commotion of the crime scene. Do you live near here? 

A few blocks down, yes. He fishes around a pouch on his belt again and retrieves a black ballpoint pen, handing it to you despite your obvious confusion. 

Write down your address, he signs and he holds out the back of his ungloved hand to you. 

Why? 

I’ll come find you after we make the arrests. Maybe you can let me buy you a coffee. A smirk appears on your lips and Katsuki finds his face heating up. 

Is it gonna be with the tattered coupon? He rolls his eyes and you laugh, a sound that he finds he wants to hear again and again. You later explain to Katsuki and the detectives that you were questioning why the guy in front of you had his brightness so high, and the visual eavesdropping was purely by accident. Everything following the investigation felt like happy little accidents, too: Dynamight showing up at your door one night with two coffees and the last muffin the cafe had, Bakugo crashing onto your apartment’s fire escape after a particularly dangerous operation, Katsuki asking you out to dinner officially for the first time, his mother spilling her wine several times the first time she met you. 

You knew you were in for a lifetime of more accidents when Mrs. Bakugo burst through the door fifteen minutes early, excitedly asking what venues you were looking at for your upcoming wedding. 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[clockwayswrites]

I saw that you had some very in depth organization methods when planning your fics. I am working on one now and realized how much I need something like that. Could you give an explanation and tips on how you organize your ideas?

Oh, sure! I can try my best.

For me, the desire to actually write it usually comes with a scene (or few scenes) I need to bring into existence. I don't care if it's the first scene or last or in the middle, I let myself write it! I know some people don't like writing out of order because they feel it's a 'waste' if they have to change it when they get there, but for me it's never a waste because it helped me find a mood!

I put those scenes down and then try to build a fic around them. If it's a short fic (>15K) I just start working. Medium to long I outline! I like to write the scenes I have and want out on cut up post it notes and this allows me to physically move things around, find the plot gaps, and write down the scene that I wan to go there!

(image id: post it notes cut into thirds with a scene summary written on each one. Some are grouped together as chapters and there are holes where I feel there needs to be more).

3. I take each of those scenes and make a placeholder file in my writing program! I use Scrivener so this is really easy to do because they have an outline function. Before I used scrivener, I would write them out in a doc and then also copy and past it around the parts I had written.

In Scrivener, I can also color code them and/or use the status to say if it's started, written, edited, etc! You could do this in another program by highlighting the outline different colors.

4. As you are writing, remember your outline might change! You might have scenes that no longer work (Ex lbfd I had a whole Tim & Danny bonding bit where Danny revealed he knew about the Bats I cut cause it seemed clunky) or you might need to add bits for a better flow! (Ex one chapter of lbfd split into three, but then other things got cut). And this is okay! Some things you can't know until it's written.

The more you do this the better you'll get! My first big fic (150+K) doubled in chapters and tripled in length! I needed a lot more time on the slow parts than I thought and added some things based on reader comments. For lbfd, even though things changed, chapter 22(?) was still chapter 22 when I got to it!

Hopefully this helps!

[copperbadge]

Hello, hello, could you please say more about how you use Microsoft OneNote in your professional life? I need all the help I can get to stay organized & on top of things, so I would love to know.

Sure! I use it less than previous because there's less randomized stuff I need to do now, so I don't need such robust management, but I can talk about how my use began/evolved. I started using OneNote because it was less finicky than Word but still had an autosave function and basic formatting, so it was useful for initial drafts of documents, taking notes on meetings, and keeping track of information I needed at my fingertips frequently.

OneNote's largest "unit" is the Notebook. You can have multiple Notebooks but I've never bothered; still I can see how if your screen was public a lot, you'd want to put some things in a separate Notebook. The Notebook then breaks down into Sections which look like tabs, which I would assign to broad things like "Meeting Notes", "Assignments", "Templates", "Personal" and "Excel Hacks". Sections break down further into "Pages"; each page is a document stuck into place, which you can title so that you can have a list of "pages" on the sidebar and find the one you want easily. Text in Pages can be formatted to some degree, and if you copypaste from websites, it'll tag on the URL of the site you pasted from, although you can also turn that off if you want. You can drag and drop Pages from one Section to another pretty easily.

So, for example, I'd have a "Meeting Notes" Section, and when I clicked the tab for that section I'd have a list of Pages, each of which was notes from a meeting I'd attended. Every time I went into a meeting I just made a new page, gave it a meeting title and date, and took notes on the meeting into the page window. The "Meeting Notes" Section thus became a fully searchable record of meetings I'd attended and what was said. When meeting notes were no longer relevant I'd drag them to an archival Section to retire in peace.

Here's an example of my Excel section:

You can see "My Notebook" up in the left top corner, my current Sections as tabs at the top, and the pages list on the left (I think more modern OneNote skins put the pages on the right, I moved mine back). Each line on the left is a separate "page" that tells me how to do something in Excel, something I need to do a lot but can't commit to memory (or couldn't but now have, it's a trifle out of date). So we're in My Notebook, section Excel, page Formatting Stripes, and on the right you can see how to format an Excel sheet so that it has alternating colored rows (there are other ways to do this but this way the stripes always stay alternating no matter what moves where). In theory I could dump all this stuff into one Page and call it "Excel" and put it somewhere else, but I liked having an easily-visible list so I don't have to scroll a single document to find what I want.

There aren't nearly as many tab/sections as there used to be; "Assignments" covers "all work that is not excel formulas" and includes stuff like instructions for how to pull a query in our database, a list of what everyone does at our company, a yearly guide to our events program, a few other things. I don't have a "Personal" section any more but I do have 2-3 pages in the Assignments section that are personal notes.

There's no inbuilt tagging function but because the entire notebook is searchable, if you're really into tagging you can simply add keywords to the top or bottom of a page.

I have OneNote pinned to my taskbar in Windows, and it's basically always open but it autosaves, so adding stuff is super simple; if I find a bug in our database or a quirk I want to remember I just click over to OneNote and add it to the database file, or similar.

I don't use it on my phone or tablet, because if I'm at work I have access to my laptop generally, but OneNote does sync across devices as long as you're logged in, so if you have OneNote and a Microsoft login you should be able to access it in multiple places.

[guzsdaily]

The Best Thing I Added to My Notes

Daily Blogs 359 - Oct 29th, 12.024

This is probably the best thing I added to my daily notes.

What?

This is a routine heatmap. The simple explanation is that is shows how many tasks related to my routine I have done in that day, the brighter, the more tasks.

Why?

One of the things that I found is that I'm very easily insecure about myself. Even if I'm doing fine and working on the things that I like, I still have days when I almost forget everything and start doubting myself over and over thinking that I'm not doing enough. This situation happened to me a lot over the previous year, and because of the amount of pressure I placed in myself in these attacks, I started to just feel demotivated and started to stagnate. I never could really prove to myself.

And then I found about this concept, I don't know where or when necessarily, but it was about having data to prove to your own brain that you are supposed to be fine, have palpable methods to convince yourself. Not only having proof, but also, having constant feedback if you are doing fine or if you need to actually question and do a course correction.

This map, this calendar, is what proves to myself that I'm doing fine and that I am improving. Every single day I look into it since it is on my daily notes, and I can see if there are any worries or not, there's no reason anymore to doubt myself as much. Even tho not all days are the brightness, mostly because they are based on the current amount of tasks of the current routine, I can't say to myself that I'm not trying. If any of these days there is a strange black void, I can just click into it, and go back memory lane to remember.

Also, the instant feedback is great. Since I know how the brightness is calculated and that it cares about the percentage of tasks of the current routine, I don't really care that much about older cells, but I do care if some pattern start to arrive in the recent ones. Like the stripe in the first quarter of the year, when I was helping my family and wasn't able to work that much, and the brightness of the last half of the year, when I got a job and organized better my work.

And as a bonus, this map also helps me know where I am in the year. Since I do Quarterly Themes, somewhat aligned with the year seasons, having a visual clue to know what quarter I am, even more when the seasons don't affect that much the look of the ambient outside home, really helps. This clue is not only via the amount of days that passed in the calendar, but also it's color:

Red for summer, quarter one:

Red for autumn, quarter two:

Blue for winter, quarter three:

Green for spring, quarter four:

How?

I don't really know how much it is possible in other note-taking apps, but in Obisdian is kinda simple if you know a little about scripting. It uses just two plugins: Obsidian Dataview and Heatmap Calendar for Obsidian. The Dataview script used is this:

In summary, the steps are:

Get all daily notes of this year (The year value is added via the file template);

Loop over all daily notes:

Get all completed tasks of note;

Calculate the percentage of completed tasks;

Push the day entry to the calendar data, with the correct color (The value "season-spring" is put by the template).

Render the Heatmap Calendar using the function provided by the plugin.

The source code of the daily note template is available on my vault template repository.

Today's artists & creative things Music: I Gave Everything - by Connor Price

© 2024 Gustavo "Guz" L. de Mello. Licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0

[hadesoftheladies]

FEMALE MOVIE/TV RECS (PART 9 / ADULT & FAMILY ANIMATION)

got inspired from a recommendation post so decided to make a list of movies and shows with female-centric stories/female protagonists. since i can't post all of the genres in one post, i'll split it into multiple posts and y'all can save or add to the list as you wish. (disclaimer: i have watched most of these, but i only know about the existence of others. not every movie/show on these lists will be my recommendation. my recommendations will be beneath the list with reasons. also some of these are way better than others in terms of storytelling/performance--which is why i'll list my faves separately):

Common Themes/Tropes:

-Woman/girl is OP and gets bullshit from other people for it

-Heroine tries desperately to fix the world

-Leaving home to go on adventures for the sake of a dream or doing the right thing

-Sisters are a lifeline

-Women/girls can literally do or be anything

-Violence is the only answer men will understand

-The world is so big, grand and beautiful and she wants to see more of it

-Girls being the conscience of an entire society

-Things going ham when she reaches Boss Level

-Magic (and violence) are good things, especially paired together

-A man (usually a father or guy friend) is the only conscience she has left

-F*ck marriage there's bigger problems TM

-I must save my father/sister

-Serious mommy issues

-Has an animal companion or IS the animal companion (robots also count as animal companions in terms of function imo)

-Making friends with the monster

OF WHICH ARE FOR ADULT AUDIENCES:

Pantheon

Scavenger's Reign

Blue Eye Samurai

Arcane: League of Legends

Trese

HAVEN'T WATCHED:

Pantheon

Lilo & Stitch

Fiona & Cake

Star Vs. The Forces of Evil

Trese

Princess Mononoke

Green Snake

The Breadwinner

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Violet Evergarden

Barbie in The Diamond Castle

Monsters Vs Aliens

Epic

Finding Dory

Encanto

The Incredibles II

Tinkerbell: Legend of The Neverbeast

Brave

WOULD HIGHLY RECOMMEND:

Blue Eye Samurai (10/10) (super gritty, but the perfect revenge story, puts John Wick to shame)

Scavenger's Reign (8/10) (split story, but two of the main characters are women, and one is a black lesbian! fantastic animation, though don't watch if you're intensely trypophobic, it can be sci-fi horror)

Mulan (9/10) (one of the most perfect animated Disney classics)

Turning Red (8/10) (this movie remembered the tween era)

Tinkerbell (if you crave matriarchy, sisterhood, magic and female centric society and story, then you need to watch the Tinkerbell movies)

Wolfwalkers (7.5/10) (an anti-colonial, anti patriarchal, pro-pagan fantasy movie with beautiful animation and a very touching, female-centric story)

Arcane: League of Legends (10/10) (gorgeous animation, amazing writing, incredible performances, and don't get me started on the sisters that take centre stage--also, lesbianism and gender nonconformity!)

The Legend of Korra (8/10) (good writing, a badass protagonist, a fantastic cast of characters, beautiful scoring, beautiful animation, amazing action sequences)

PERSONAL NOTES

The Mitchells Vs The Machines is basically a drama between a lesbian girl and her dad who have to figure their relationship out while they're running from robots. It was full of heart and fun and had some good jokes in there. I'd definitely recommend it.

Raya & The Last Dragon is the first Disney movie with a gender non-conforming princess! It also has some of the best action sequences in any Disney animated movie, however it doesn't hold a candle to The Incredibles II, which stars Helen Parr as the main character of the film. It's one of my favourite films of all time because of how they depict Helen and the main villain of the story (a badass genius of a woman). Really pro-female films, even for all their flaws.

Abominable has some of the most gorgeous visuals I've seen outside of a Disney animation. The texturing and coloring is so vivid it makes my mouth water. It's far better than Over The Moon, but both have their own charm. Abominable and Home have very similar plots. Also, the girl in Home is voiced by Rihanna while Beyonce voices the queen of the faeries in Epic.

One movie that shares a similar theme (kindness to animals even if we don't understand them or they scare us) with Abominable is The Sea Beast. The Sea Beast is one of the best animations with a black female girl as a lead I've ever seen. There's also a badass black woman pirate. There are some scenes that could have been written (or colored) better, but I loved it either way. I think it was the first animated film to depict shrinkage for black hair! And it didn't lighten the skin or whiten the features of the black characters!

Many people view Frozen II and Brave as "almost" masterpieces whose writers ultimately failed them, and I can say that I agree to some extent. There are many things technically wrong with the movies. Minor details that set the pacing off or take away from the immersion. However, I still love both of them. I really love daughter vs mother and sister vs sister stories (that includes Tinkerbell: The Secret of The Wings) because there's so much to explore in such relationships. They also both have some killer soundtracks, some amazing visuals and well-executed action sequences. I've truly seen way worse than these two films, and the characters are mostly loveable.

The Breadwinner is an animated film about a girl dressing up like a boy under the rule of the Taliban so she can earn some money to help feed her family. It's scored very high by critics.

I'd also recommend The Owl House (even though there's some appeal to genderism in later seasons). It's the first time I've seen a bisexual animated character and the enemies to lovers arc with Luz and Amity is unmatched in cannon magic school stories. I also really love the depiction of The Owl Lady who is treated like a male character in that she is allowed to be non-maternal, single and old (and wrinkled), arrogant and boastful, all without the show trying to punish her for it. The Boiling Isles are also fascinating as a setting.

If you like The Owl House, there's a chance you'll love She-Ra. There were many things I found annoying about She-Ra, but my experience was mostly positive. I'm not the biggest fan of Catradora, but I do appreciate the drama. I loved the world-building and magic system mainly, so the character quirks didn't get to me as much as they have others. Also, amazing antagonists in this series. It could have been more mature, but it's still entertaining.

I also definitely recommend Home on The Range. It's a whole movie with talking animals, but there's no tomboy like the main female protagonist in a Disney movie. She is one of the most tomboy characters Disney ever made. Also, I love 2D animation and this film reminds me why. Also, the idea of a feminine, micromanaging old heifer, a bull-headed, roughhouse new girl cow, and a young airhead cow that can't sing going on an adventure across the wild west to save their human's (a sweet old lady with some bark and bite) farm? And they have to compete with a hotshot, asshole male horse who is young and fast? It's like the perfect western comedy but with cows!

Anyways, if you can't tell, I love animated stuff and a lot of these are my comfort movies.

[ofdarkestdesires]

Alright! So, now that we have the full line-up of the Level 10 Bell’s Hells artwork, I think it’s about time I sat down and gave my personal opinions that nobody asked for about everyone’s styles.

Chetney Pock'o'pea

While I appreciate the more active pose and visible armor as opposed to his more unassuming original design, I am very off-put that he completely abandoned his original color scheme and all shreds of his original aesthetic. I also think the tracksuit is a bit much—listen, I’m a fan of toeing the line of what fashion belongs in a fantasy setting, but I’m pretty sure this fully vaulted over the it and did a full backflip and three-point landing into ridiculous. 3/10

And unfortunately, the same must be said for his Lycan form. This artwork feels like a serious downgrade from the original Chetwolf, which honestly filled me with a shock of horror each time he popped up. The only reason it is higher than base-Chet is that Chetwolf is still a werewolf, and werewolves are badass. 4/10

Laudna

Laudna, on the otherhand, is a total glow-up from her original design. Everything about her design ties together and brings in perfectly her aesthetic and backstory, from the haunting tree embroidery on her dress (akin to the Sun Tree she was hung from) to the little Pate birdhouse backpack (an homage to the Baba Yaga forest witch imagery she picked up), all the while looking so much like the elegant and imposing Delilah Briarwood. Easy 10/10 for me.

Fresh Cut Grass (F.C.G.)

F.C.G.'s new art...isn't bad, but I'm not as wowed by it as some others on this list. Something has clearly changed here in the choice to include his new blue jacket, and I approve! I'm also a fan of the wires having more definition and appearing more purposefully stylized, as if he's taking better care of himself...but the pose and the style just feel a bit lacking to me. 5/10

Fearne Calloway

Honestly, my only gripe with this outfit is the upper-half of her bustier. It feels very cluttered and like there is a lot of fine detail that just ends up being all meshed together. That would be my other only other gripe, too—there's a lot of small, fine details here that makes her feel cluttered. Which, honestly, fits her as the sneaky little hoarder that she is! But yeah, I would've done something else, something cleaner, with the upper half of her bodice. Also, while I know she is a Druid, I don't think she needs the plant growth on her legs... 8/10

Imogen Temult

I would just like to point out that this outfit was unveiled to us as Imogen's choice for winter-wear while traveling through the Crystal Sands Tundra. Is it sexy? Definitely. Is it my personal taste? Mm, not really, but I can see the appeal. Am I upset that even after the semi-canonization of her needing glasses, this bitch is still not a sexy glasses-wearing nerd? Absolutely—but the biggest sin this outfit does is fail to be climate-accurate. -1/10 for improper environment protection, and 7/10 for the outfit itself.

Orym, Savior Blade of the Tempest

I am incredibly torn here. Because, when it comes down to the armor itself, this is a clear winner. Orym's new uniform is a perfect upgrade from his original more humble and simple apparel, becoming much more about function and protection, while still retaining his svelte and limber appearance. The noted upgrade to Seedling is also nice, though I wish it was a bit more pronounced. What pulls me back from really loving this design, though, is his proportions—I feel like his head is way too big, or his limbs are way too skinny. Over all, I have to give this an 8/10.

Ashton Greymoore

Remember at the start how I said I'm all for toeing the line of what fashion belongs in fantasy settings? Yeah, this fucks! From the first episode, we knew that Ashton was a punk, and this just picks that up and runs with it in such a cool, fun way. I legitimately want this entire outfit—fuck cosplay, I'd just wear this irl! It leans enough on his old design to be recognizable, but pops out as truly his own. And the hammer looks wild—I can't wait to see that thing really pop off like crazy in the next fight. Definitely a 10/10 from me!

[alltimefail-sims]

I think I made Celebrazioni D’amore kinda sexy...😏

I'm gonna ramble now!!! ↓

HOLY CRAP this lot has been a HUGE challenge. Every time I'd think I was close to being done, this freaking lot would provide me with an even more bizarre and questionable feature than the one previously conquered... but despite nearly throwing in the towel, here we are! Phew!

I changed so. much.

The biggest change I made is that I shrunk the building down quite a bit to eliminate the excessive, gaping, empty spaces that were quite literally everywhere and serving no function whatsoever. I also moved and downsized the mega stairs, fixed all the visual balance issues (like one side of the build being heavier than another or tables being off-center from the stage and etc.), made the bottom floor's main area an actual room (yes... that was an issue in the original build), removed the heinous carpeting (goodbye random cheetah print patches), landscaped basically from scratch, and so. much. more. I'm relieved to say that when I look at these pictures though I still feel like I'm looking at the same lot... just a more functional and aesthetically pleasing version of it.

The OG build made a good attempt at something adjacent to "character," and even though it was a bit of a swing and a miss, I wanted to maintain that intention. I never do nightclub or lounge lots so this became a great exercise in pushing myself to build in a style I don't typically gravitate toward. (Using neon, colored lighting and modern fixtures in the same build?? Unheard of for me!) Some of my favorite parts aren't even pictured, so I'm really excited to share the whole thing. Although I'm not done (fingers crossed that I'll wrap it up tomorrow...) I am pretty damn close, and that's a win in my book! I have two things left to do: first I need to decide if I'm going to keep the exterior paint colors (currently a combo of dark purple and magenta) or swap one of the colors out for something like a plain "base" (such as brick). After that I just have to... *gulps*...playtest it (yes I am shuddering and crying profusely. Ask your god to give me mercy). TLDR: I will probably post this lot by Monday at the latest, so keep an eye out for it!

One last thing!!! I promised it would be extremely DLC-lite... and it is!!! It uses less DLCs than every single one of my shell builds. Woohoo! Goal met!

Okay, I'm officially done talking now! If you read all of my rambling... you have my undying love and appreciation. You are also probably entitled to financial compensation for your time (note: we at B.B.R.U.* are not taking cases and claims at the moment, unfortunately). But might I say that you are cooler than the other side of the pillow? 😎 Hopefully that will suffice.

Byeeeee friends! ❤

*B.B.R.U. stands for "Broke Bitches R Us," in case you were wondering. It's my company and I'm the CEO, bless

[iantimony]

big ol' tuesdaypost

listening: background noise for the week has been relistening to TANIS. not gonna lie, y'all, this podcast has not aged well! it is simply not very good! it was always kinda mid with regard to dialogue etc but now after listening to other narrative podcasts (TMA, Silt Verses, Wolf359, etc) it's even worse. all it ever really had going for it was Vibes and it's hanging on that by a thread. however, it is serving the purpose of essentially white noise. audio drama equivalent of eating packing peanuts.

I also got surprised in one of the early episodes because Elisa Lam's name wasn't censored - I could have SWORN that at the time there was a pretty large backlash to using a real person's tragedy and name in a narrative fiction podcast so they went and censored her name out? like, that's why all the following episodes have that disclaimer about "for legal and safety reasons we've elected to change some names and leave others out entirely"? okay yes live mid-writing of this I went and checked and the transcript of that episode literally says "Also, we have decided to entirely redact the name of one person who has passed away whose name was used in this episode. It appears in this transcript as [REDACTED]." did I somehow get an unedited version in my podcast app??? very odd.

when I got bored of TANIS or needed something more engaging/stimulating I got back on The Silt Verses season 2! on s2e3 now for reference. especially in contrast with TANIS it is so phenomenal lol.

you will notice that last week I linked "Pale Green Things" from the album The Sunset Tree by The Mountain Goats. this made me realize that a song I listen to a lot around this time of year ("This Year", obviously, lol) is on the same album. I have embarrassing news which is that I have listened to exactly one Mountain Goats album all the way through (Jenny from Thebes) so I resolved to listen to The Sunset Tree all the way through.

gang, this is not a surprise, or news, but man, this album fucking whips. it's so good. why didn't I do this years ago. oh my god.

Broom People

Dilaudid

Magpie

reading: "Bad Influence" by Mia Sato - duuuuuuuuuude lol. I am no legal expert but I think I know how this case is gonna go because let's be totally real. the beige home shade is really funny to me, not quite a maximalist but someone who loves her home with objects that are colorful, lively, full of sentiment, and secondhand where I can make it (i.e. not mass market sludge).

On the Origin of the Hebrew Deity-Name El Shaddai by F. M. Behymer - a discussion of the name 'El Shaddai' in contexts of fertility came up in weekly torah study this week and the rabbi was wondering if there were any real scholarly sources related to that beyond just noting it a few times in scripture. naturally I immediately went to jstor. interesting article, not sure if it's exactly what my rabbi was thinking about but I will be emailing it to him.

[Is] BookTok for Dummies[?] by Chels - I am not a tiktok girly (I have deleted social media apps from my phone because I find accessing them through web browser is less addictive, and tiktok simply does not function in a web browser so I don't use it) so I am very removed from these dynamics. call me crazy but I do not care if people on tiktok are reading porn because [looks at my ao3 history] glass houses, etc. the weird reactionary bent against romance novels is very strange to me.

Static by purplewhales on ao3 :3

watching: the death of personal style by Mina Le - I've definitely never been as extravagant as she is known to be but I do love a little Outfit(tm), especially since I have officially acquired my Good Leather Jacket this fall. cooking this one in my brain still though because it takes me SO long to get ready for the day and having a 'uniform' would probably. help that. lol.

The Winter Reset Guide by Morgan Evelyn Cook - she's kinda basic (in a positive way) but I've been enjoying her vids along with Caroline Winkler as background noise. ngl I love her high five thing it's very cute. I did stop everything to hold my hand up like I was high-fiving her. her dog is adorable too.

LED Christmas lights which don't hurt the eyes by Technology Connections. "this is not what christmas looks like. it looks like a vape shop. or, worse, a gaming PC." extremely funny thank you autism etc

I bought the world's most expensive yarn by Cinema Knits - the background noise while my soup was simmering and I was crocheting another mouse cat toy. cozy bliss.

The Online Gambling Epidemic by Drew Gooden - I'm becoming more of a hockey person (especially with the women's league coming up let's goooo) and while I'm not that tapped into it I'm sure gambling there exists, though it doesn't seem as plastered across everything as it is with football?

relatedly: watched a hockey game in the background on Saturday while I ran dnd! my mom and brother were there in person so I tuned in remotely to keep up :) also watched the Sirens/Frost game on Sunday yippee

playing: as above: ran dnd on Saturday! once again I spent time before it agonizing how I did not want to even a little bit but after actually doing it I had a lot of fun.

making: like a fool, I left the container with my winter wear open and my cat RIPPED THE POMPOM OFF the top of a hat I made a few years ago. it's no great loss - the pompom really wasn't big enough, I didn't have enough of the beige yarn I'd really wanted to use - and she didn't eat any of the yarn, just relished in tearing it all apart, so I made a new one with some leftover of the white. this one is bigger and fluffier and definitely matches the vibe of the hat better so I'm not mad. it's been deadly cold here, like windchills bringing it to single digits, so I've actually gotten some good wear out of it the past few days.

made what will hopefully be a lemon coaster but I think I gave it one too many rows of the interior yellow so stay tuned, plus a mousie for my cat :)

further work on the holiday card for this year! sketches followed by some inspo images:

sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

eating: yayy thanksgiving. many leftovers, etc. made a big ass kugel that was demolished over two different get-togethers, gonna make another one for a potluck at temple this coming Friday! might make that one with crushed pineapple because every time I mention it my grandma sighs wistfully and says how her mom used to make it that way.

I also made this sunchoke soup from some sunchokes that I blanched and froze about a month ago. I halved the recipe because I only had about a pound of sunchokes and this is soooo good. no picture because I'm ngl it looks like sludge lol. made waffles again too.

finally: little emotional support cheese board from the other day, lol.

feat. paesanella ciresa (soft vaguely mushroomy?), somerdale red dragon (very dijon mustard-y), cotswold (super chives and onion flavor), and appenzeller white label (swiss adjacent) picked up as little samples from the cheese counter castoff bin. and olives and mozz balls of course.

misc: really enjoyed these few days off. it is cold as fuck here which is not encouraging me to get back in the swing of things but it has put me in cozy mode. I did reformat my resume in LaTeX so now it's sexy for my conference next week because I am … printing out a few copies I guess ?? to bring to hand to people if needed. do people still do that. who fucking knows.

[ritzy-reminiscence]

Slamdunk headcanons plss

─🏀─ Slam Dunk : Secret Santa !

⸝⸝ tl;dr : features the starting five, kogure, as well as haruko + ayako ; and what they'll put down in their wishlists for secret santa !

⸝⸝ note : hii, anon ! i'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but i hope you enjoy it either way :DD might as well do a little something-something for the holiday season <33

Hanamichi Sakuragi 🌸

he'll accept anything, to be honest !

maybe some cool shoes ? some funky shirts ? a box of red hair dye ? he'll cherish them all !!

or maybe just plain money, he's not picky ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

if anything, though, i feel like he'd prefer a hangout as a gift rather than material items, ykwim ? i'm talking trips to the amusement park with his friends, window-shopping through shops that he'll never be able to afford (SOBS) point is, he'd rather spend quality time with his friends rather than wish for material things <33

he'd probably bullshit his wishlist though, like he'll write down a whole recipe like "Let's prepare the ingredients you need for honey chicken .. !! :DD"

Ryota Miyagi ⚡

ayako

no but he'd actually write her name down as a joke ... but is it really a joke ...

honestly this is a tough one, but just like Sakuragi I think he'll accept anything as long as the thought's in it :DD

i feel like he'd like some candy, though ?? specifically sour candy, as sour as he can handle !! or just plain food stuff in general ! nothing like receiving food for xmas amirite or amirite

like sakuragi he'll also bullshit his wishlist like "Congratulations Ma'am/Sir, you've won a BRAND NEW IPHONE !! Text ur COMPLETE NAME / AGE / ADDRESS / # / CREDIT CARD INFO to claim !! Congratulations !!!! :O :O :O"

Kaede Rukawa 💤

cats. that's it. that's all you need to know.

cat plushies, cat notebooks, cat pens, cat toys, actual cats, big cats, small cats, he'll take them all

and you know what ... throw in a neck pillow for him as well . he needs his sleep yk, don't wanna wake up to a stiff neck in the middle of bball practice

AND !! new earphones, in case the one he's using breaks down and you know he needs his music to function (and also to block out a certain redhead when he gets too noisy....)

Hisashi Mitsui 🦷

polident denture adhesive

also a hard one to think for, actually ! but i think he'd like some basketball magazines, maybe even sportswear ! some good ol' posters of his favorite bball players would be nice too .

he would also appreciate a kneepad, in red and black just like the one he currently uses ! AND he'll fold if you give him shoes, trust me i was there to witness it

OH !! and comics ; i feel like he'd like comics aa

Kiminobu Kogure 👓

my first thought ? books ! any type, he doesn't mind, but he does have a preference for historic novels, and thrillers/mysteries are always really fun to get

my second thought ? those miniature dollhouse sets that you can build ! either that, or lego !! i headcanon him as someone who really likes to build those sets so :DD

also would like cardigans or sweaters, turtlenecks specifically ! he gotta stay warm for the cold winter season !!

Takenori Akagi 🦍

oo boy ,, yet another tough one ! but just like mitsui i think he'll appreciate basketball magazines and merch ,, and maybe gym equipment ? doesn't even need to be branded or expensive, as long as it helps him work out

OOH and books too ! much like kogure he likes books too, and for him any will do !! (and don't tell anyone this but he'd kill for a nice romance book shh)

Haruko + Ayako

haruko strikes me as someone who likes to scrapbook, if that even makes sense ?? like, she likes to cut and paste stuff she thinks is interesting and put them in a notebook dedicated to such things, and even write little annotations on the sides !

and because of that i think she'll like brush pens and pastel-colored highlighters !! she'd love some stickers too, and prints that she can rip up and arrange in her own special way ; shes so cute ilhsm

AND AYAKO !! ayako .. gives it girl energy. And because of that I think that she'll put clothes in her wishlist ! bell bottoms, flare pants, crop tops, tank tops, the list goes on. She'd love some shiny hair pins too ! magpie ayako supremacy !!

ALSO remember the caligraphy she wrote after shohoku lost to kainan ?? because of that i think she'd also like some good quality brushes and inks to write with :DD