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mytherapyisreading14 · 21 days ago

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Hii! Could make a smutt fic with post prison Spencer fic where the reader and Spencer are like best friends/roommates and she has a massive crush on him and he’s in her room looking for something and finds her diary with all of the dreams she’s had about him and they are like extremely kinky like spitting in her mouth and using his handcuffs on her and while he’s reading the diary she walks in on him and she gets like really embarrassed and he’s being the biggest tease to her and then they fuck. Also could you include the spit kink in the smutt part? If you’re not comfortable with that then it’s fine :). Ps I sent this request to another writer like a week ago but they said that they couldn’t do it because they were only doing blurbs.

A Dream Come True

Summary: When Spencer comes over for one of your weekly movie nights, he accidentally finds your diary and discovers your secret.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Smut, some Fluff (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: kissing, dirty talk, use of pet names (baby etc.), praise kink, spit kink, choking, fingering, use of handcuffs, oral sex (f), unprotected sex (stay safe y’all), multiple orgasms, dom!spencer (If I missed any warnings, please tell me)

Word Count: 3,3k

Author’s Note: I got my wisdom teeth out yesterday and finished writing this to distract me from the pain (didn’t work though) 😩 Anyway, I hope you like it! :)

You're standing in the kitchen, the smell of freshly baked cookies hits your nose. You decided to bake some cookies before Spencer is coming over for your weekly movie night. Baking also distracts you from the thoughts that have been consuming you more and more in the last few weeks.

You've always liked Spencer, but in the last few weeks, after he got out of prison, you've been spending even more time together. He needed a distraction and when he finally was ready for it, he also talked to you about what had happened to him.

It broke your heart when he told you what he had to go through. You're glad the team managed to get him out of there. You don't even want to think about how bad it would have been if he had to stay any longer.

You take a look at the clock, Spencer will be here soon. You can't wait, the nervousness tingles in your stomach like usual when you think about him. With a light sigh you put away the last ingredients, while your eyes keep wandering to the calendar on the wall.

You can't say exactly when they started. These... dreams. At first they were just fleeting thoughts that distracted you from the stressful everyday life, but now they are much more than that.

They are firmly imprinted in your mind, as if they are another reality taking up more and more space in your life. You shake your head, trying to compose yourself, but it doesn't work. The desire for these dreams to finally become reality gets stronger everyday, especially when you spend time with him.

You go to your room and open the diary that is still lying on your bed after your last entry this morning. A shiver runs down your spine as you read the words and the memories of your last dream come flooding back.

But the familiar ringing of the door bell snaps you out of your thoughts. Spencer is here. You quickly close the diary and shove it back under your small cupboard in your room where no one can find it.

You open the door and your heart immediately beats faster when you see him. With his messy curls falling over his face and that cute smile he never fails to blow you away. Your breath hitches for a moment as he looks at you.

“Hey, how are you?” he asks as he takes a step towards you and holds out a small bag of gummy bears. “I brought you your favorite gummy bears. They were almost sold out, but I still managed to get a package.” You can’t help but fall into his arms.

“Thank you,” you say, holding him for a moment longer than necessary. It feels so good to feel him close, to breathe in that familiar scent of him. Your heart is pounding loudly in your chest. But then he breaks the moment.

“Did you bake something? I think I can smell cookies,” Spencer says and your eyes widen in shock. "Oh no! My cookies!” you shout, practically jumping out of his arms and storming into the kitchen.

You turn off the oven, take the cookies out and carefully place them on the tray to let them cool off. Spencer follows you, still grinning as he watches you. “Just in time,” you say as you run your hand through your hair. “A moment longer and they would have burned.”

“It's good that I'm not only a genius, but also have a good nose,” he jokes. “Or you’re just hungry,” you answer with a grin as you put the cookies aside. “That too. And you know they are my favorite cookies. I can't just let them burn,” he says and you laugh.

“But they have to cool down before you can eat them. If you want we can already start to watch a movie now,” you say and go over to the living room with him, grabbing a few pillows and blankets to make it even more comfortable on the couch.

"So," Spencer says as he sits down next to you and adjusts the pillows, "what movie are we watching first?" You think about it for a while, deciding whether you want to watch something romantic, funny or classic. Finally, your choice falls on Back to the Future. A movie that you both love.

When you want to turn on the television, you suddenly notice that the remote control is no longer working. “Oh no, the batteries are dead,” you mumble and take them out. “Where do you keep the new ones?” Spencer asks, leaning back and watching you. “I can go and get them while you get us something to drink.”

You nod. “They are in the bottom drawer in the small cupboard across my bed,” you tell him. “All right,” Spencer says, getting up and going to your room to get them. While he's in your bedroom, you take a moment to gather your thoughts. If only you knew what he really thinks about you...

Spencer goes into your room to get the batteries. But when he tries to open the bottom drawer like you told him, it gets stuck, which surprises him. He leans down to look what’s causing it, maybe he can fix it for you. But then he notices that there is a book lying under the cupboard.

Curious, he pulls it out and examines it for a moment. He flips through the pages, slowly, as if he can't help himself. His eyes widen when he realizes it's full of entries - entries about the two of you together specifically. It’s your diary. Full of your thoughts about him.

And not just your thoughts. You also wrote down the dreams you had about him, the wishes and desires you couldn't keep to yourself anymore. Your feelings that you never expressed. Spencer continues reading, and with each word it seems as if the world stops.

You, on the other hand, are now wondering where he is. Why doesn't he come back? You go to your room and open the door. “Spence, did you find them or should I help -” You pause, your eyes immediately falling on the book in his hand and your heart beats faster. You blush as you realize what he just discovered.

He looks at you and a grin spreads across his face. “I found a really interesting book under your cupboard. Why did you hide it from me? I would’ve love to read it sooner,” he says as he takes a step towards you. You feel like the ground is threatening to fall away from under your feet. Your pulse is pounding in your ears and you try to stay calm. “Spence…” you whisper, but you can’t say anything more. You're way too nervous.

He looks at you for another second, as if he's getting lost in your reaction, before holding the diary out to you, grinning ever wider. “You probably not only dream about me every night, but also write everything down so you can think about it again and again, right?”

You feel the blood rush to your head and you almost feel dizzy with embarrassment. "I... uh..." you stammer, "It's not what you think..." Spencer laughs. “No?” he asks as he flips the diary over to the page on which you wrote down your last dream about him.

“Well, I think it's kind of cute that you're so lost in your dreams. But you know what?” You look at him uncertainly as he slowly takes a step closer, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Now that I know about them, I can make them all come true,” he says quietly. For a moment his eyes are so intense you feel like you could sink into them.

Your mind is racing and you can't believe what he just said. Then he suddenly pushes you against the wall and kisses you. The kiss is not gentle, it’s full of desire and hunger. His tongue pushes between your lips, tasting you. You can feel the heat rushing through your body, pressing your thighs together.

He pulls away, leaving you breathless and craving more. “I’m going to leave you now. When I come back, I want to see you laying on the bed naked, with your legs spread apart. You’re not allowed to touch yourself. Do you understand?” he asks, his voice firm and eyes full of lust.

You nod and a shiver runs down your spine. “Yes, I… I understand,” you breathe out. He smirks before he grabs your diary and turns around to leave the room. You heart is pounding in your chest and you're shivering in excitement. You do as your told and take off your clothes to lay down on the bed, waiting for him to come back.

Spencer however sits down on the couch to read through all of your diary entries. He feels his pants getting uncomfortably tighter the more he reads and one entry particularly draws his attention. You had this dream 2 days ago.

He used his handcuffs to tie you to the bed, kissed down your body before going over to tease you by squeezing your breasts and biting down on your nipples. You begged him to touch you and when he decided that he teased you enough, he went over to eating you out and fucking you with his fingers. And then, after you came, he leaned forward and spit into your mouth.

Spencer never expected you to dream of things like this, but he is more than happy to make them come true. His cock is getting harder and he decides you waited long enough. Luckily, yesterday after you got off work, you got some take out and drove to your place to eat dinner together. He left his vest and jacket, in which he also packed his handcuffs, hanging in your apartment because he knew he would be back today anyway.

He stands up and goes over to get his handcuffs. He straps them to the back of his pants so you don’t see them right away. Then he goes into your room and opens the door. You lay on the bed, with your legs spread apart, just like he told you. He smirks and comes closer, his eyes wander over your body.

You feel extremely exposed and have to resist the urge to put your arms in front of your body to cover yourself. But then you see Spencer's tongue licking his bottom lip and his eyes darken. “You look so beautiful, baby. I can’t wait to finally touch you,” he says and gets onto the bed. He leans down to kiss you again and you run your fingers through his hair.

He kisses your neck before leaning closer to your ear again. “Do you trust me, baby?” he asks and you nod. He shakes his head. “I need words,” he says and you answer him immediately. “Yes, Spencer. I trust you.” He looks pleased. “Good. Can you close your eyes for me?”

You close your eyes and feel him shift, excited to find out what he planned to do to you. You can feel his hands reaching for yours, then you hear the clatter of metal and feel something cold close around your wrist. You know exactly what comes next and a shiver runs down your spine.

He lifts your hands over your head and ties you to the headboard. You can’t help but smile and he notices. “I see, you’re already enjoying this. You can open your eyes now. I want you to look at me when I touch you,” he says. You open your eyes and look up to Spencer above you.

“I have to admit, your dream from two nights ago surprised me. I really liked reading it. I decided to make this one come true first,” he says before he starts to slowly kiss down your neck. He goes further down around your breasts and then your stomach before he spreads your legs apart and leaves kisses between your inner thighs. When he bits down on the soft skin to leave a hickey there you can’t help but moan.

“Please, I - I need you,” you say and try to reach down to press him against you. But you forget that you’re held back by the handcuffs. Spencer chuckles when he sees you like this, helpless and desperate for more. “Be a good girl and I’ll give you what you want,” he says and his hands wander upwards to your breasts again.

He starts to squeeze the right one and leans down to lick over your left nipple before taking it in his mouth. He bites down gently first and then he starts to suck. All the man you had before never really paid that much attention to your breasts and your surprised how good it feels with him.

When he pulls away and blows cold air on your nipple you shiver again. He turns his attention to the other one and you can’t help but moan. “More…please. I need you to fuck me,” you beg him but he just ignores you and continues his actions.

You press your legs together to relief the ache between your legs but he notices and pushes them apart again with his knee. He grabs your chin with his hand and holds you firm, looking into your eyes. “You have to be patient, baby. I want to take my time with you,” he says.

You nod but a silent cry escapes your lips. The way he’s touching your body leaves you craving him even more and after all these weeks of dreaming about this, you don't want to wait any longer. But you know it won't do any good to keep begging. Instead you focus entirely on his lips, his hands and how he touches your body.

When Spencer finally decides that he teased you enough he slowly leans down, hands running up your thighs before spreading your legs even further to get in between them. You look down and in that moment you wish you’d had an eidetic memory too because you never want to forget the way he looks at you now.

“I always wanted to know what you taste like, baby,” he says and you can feel his warm breath against your pussy. Then he finally leans in and starts to circle your clit with the tip of his tongue. The touch is light, teasing again and all you want is to pull him closer and run your fingers through his soft, brown curls. His eyes never leave yours when he starts to devour you.

You can’t help but grind against him and this time, he gives you what you want. One hand moves up to your hip, the other one under your ass and he pulls you closer to him while his tongue continues to move in and out of you. He applies more pressure and adds two fingers, making you moan his name over and over again.

“I’m close,” you manage to breath out and Spencer flicks his tongue over your clit. “Come for me baby, come on my mouth,” he says and you let go. Your back arches off the bed when your orgasm hits you but that doesn’t stop Spencer. He just continues what he’s doing, taking everything in.

Your orgasm slowly ebbs away and Spencer comes up from between your legs, his eyes full of lust. He gently runs a finger over your lip and smirks. “Open up for me, baby,” he says and then you realize what he’s about to do. You shiver in excitement and open your mouth.

Then he leans forward and spits into your mouth. “Swallow.” You obey and keep eye contact with him the whole time. “Good girl,” he praises you and gently kisses you, holding you close to him. He gives you a minute to recover, which you gladly take before he starts to undress himself.

Your eyes widen, he’s definitely bigger than you expected. He goes back in between your legs and slowly runs his tip through your folds. “Just… just fuck me already. Please,” you beg him. “You’re so needy, baby. You want to take it all at once? Fine, then have it.” He thrusts inside of you.

You feel the pleasure rushing through your body, expanding every time he hits your g-spot while he fucks you in a restless pace. “You look so pretty like this. Tied to the bed and fucked out for me. You’re all mine now. Gonna make all your dreams come true,” he says and grabs your hips to hold you firm.

He continues to fuck you until you’re crying out his name. He comes closer and wraps a hand around your throat, before kissing your neck again, leaving more hickeys. When he starts to circle your clit again you feel like you’re going to explode from the intense pleasure.

“Spence, need to… please, please…” you whine, unable to form a complete sentence. He chuckles, clearly amused to see you so desperate for him. “Baby, I don’t understand you. You have to tell me what you want,” he teases, squeezing your throat more and slowing down for a moment.

“I - I want -“ you begin but get cut off again by a moan when he thrusts harder into you again. “Look at that, you’re a complete mess. You clearly don’t know what you want, do you? I’m afraid I have to stop then” he teases. “No!” you answer immediately, wrapping your legs around him to keep him close.

“Tell me what you want then, otherwise I can’t help you. Come on, I know you can do it,” he says. “I want to… I want to come. Please,” you finally manage to say before your eyes roll back again. “That’s it, such a good girl,” he says and releases the hand around your throat to speed up his thrusts again.

Your legs begin to shake uncontrollably when your orgasms hits you and Spencer fucks you through it, finishing inside you a moment later. You can feel his cum deep inside of you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply and giving both of you a moment to calm down.

Then he sits up, leaning forward to untie you. You immediately cuddle up to him, holding him as close as possible. “Are you okay? Do you need anything baby? Water maybe?” he asks and gives you a tender kiss on your forehead. “No, please just hold me in your arms now,” you say and he pulls you even closer against him.

He runs his hands through your hair and you can feel his heartbeat beneath your hand. After a while you look up to him, with a smile on your face. “That was even better than in my dreams,” you mumble, still exhausted. He laughs and pushes a strand of hair out of your face. “I’m glad to hear that.”

For a moment everything is quiet, you just enjoy lying in bed together and holding each other in your arms. Then Spencer shifts closer. “You know, tonight it wasn't just your dreams that came true. I wanted this - you - for a long time now too,” he admits and your heart skips a beat.

“Well then I'm happy you found my diary today. Who knows how long it would have taken us before one of us made a move,” you say and laugh. Spencer grins. “Oh definitely way too long,” he says before he leans forward to kiss you again. “I love you,” he says and you smile against his lips. “I love you too.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #post prison reid

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qqueenofhades · 1 month ago

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been seeing some responses to the many many lawsuits and other actions taken against trumpet and munkfruit that fall along the lines of "this isn't enough, it's already too late, you can't fight fascism with the law, we're all gonna die." i understand the fear, truly, but i'm curious as to your thoughts on it, as to me it seems like this sort of behavior/posting doesn't do much beyond embolden the narrative that everyone actually likes these bastards and they're too powerful to be stopped.

Welp. This is the kind of question that requires me to write a long and complex sociopolitical/critical/historical/Discourse-esque analysis that will take a while and which I am trying to do only selectively, but I'm at home on Saturday morning, I don't have anything else to do right now, and it does present me an opportunity to address some things I've been thinking about. So. We'll give it a shot.

The first thing that has struck me is that in a few short weeks, we're getting a sharp empirical disproving of two common online-leftist fallacies: one, the old "both parties are exactly the same" chestnut, and two, "the only resistance that matters is Violent Glorious Revolution" (which somehow and conveniently never happens). We had months and months of "Biden is just as bad as Trump!!!" being spread as gospel truth in online-leftist circles, and then when Harris took over, it switched just as seamlessly into "Harris is just as bad as [or even worse than] Trump!" Now, as I have said before, there were plenty of legitimate criticisms to make of Biden, particularly the Gaza policy (upon which Harris notably differed). But it's quite telling that the keyboard warriors who spent all of last year howling for The Righteous Punishment of Biden-Harris (regardless that the obvious ancillary consequence was letting Trump come to power) have either disappeared completely when it comes to dealing with the results of that rhetoric, or have switched to "everything is doomed so I guess we shouldn't bother anyway." Like. Trump is now proposing to fully ethnically cleanse Gaza and either blithely hand it over to Israel or build Jared Kushner Beachfront Resort Disneyworld, and what do we hear in protest? For the most part, crickets. These are not serious people. Their opposition is not morally consistent, and it only depends on how they can make themselves look good. I thought that Trump was somehow supposed to be magically better than Biden particularly on the Gaza issue, and that was why it was worth letting him get elected? Or something? Something!?!

I'm curious as to whether those people still legitimately think that Harris would have spent her first few weeks in office dismantling USAID, signing weekly anti-trans executive orders, unleashing ICE across the country and terrorizing immigrant communities, putting the Project 2025 guy in charge of the Office of Management and Budget, letting Elon Musk run rampant with Treasury data, nominating the likes of RFK Jr. and Tulsi Gabbard to Cabinet posts, trying to freeze all federal funding, stripping DEI initiatives, dismantle the Department of Education -- etc. etc. The thing is, as ghoulish as it is, none of this is a surprise, because it is literally what Trump and his people spent the entire presidential campaign loudly, openly, and repeatedly promising to do. However awful they were and are, they were not remotely secret about their intentions. That information was out in the open every time they opened their mouths. But too many people didn't pay attention, rationalized it away, decided that "he won't actually do that" (despite the fact that he launched a literal violent coup attempt on the Capitol the last time he was in office), or just made up their minds that Trump Will Reduce Grocery Prices and refused to listen to any information that countered that view. What do we get now? Trump laughing off the grocery-prices issue and insisting that it's "not a priority" and Musk managing to claim that the real problem is government spending, not corporate greed. Again, this was completely predictable, because y'all got willingly suckered. It was not hard to see it coming.

That said: if the Glorious Online Leftist Revolution is still coming, and by some lights we might now legitimately need it, where the fuck is it? Are they still out there banging the drum against Trump and his "let's ethnically cleanse Gaza" policy and anything else that they insisted, they swore up and down, was functionally equivalent or possibly even marginally better than Biden-Harris getting another term? No. They're either dead silent, offering weak excuses, or completely giving into "we're doomed there's no point fighting back through weak shitlib institutions that are obviously terrible and will fail" blubbering that makes no fucking sense. One, because they move the goalposts so constantly that there's not even any attempt to reckon with the last effects of their damaging bullshit, and two? As I said, where's the fucking Revolution magically coming to save us and install a perfect leftist utopia (which is never how revolutions have ever worked) and sweep away Government Tyranny? Is that only for when a Democrat is in office and you can have confidence that the government is not going to come after you in the middle of the night for talking about it? Now that there's an actual fascist in power, it's somehow too hard to resist at all, even in small, institutional, and everyday ways that are often far more effective at practically confounding the bad stuff instead of empty and useless online echo chambers, so guess we should all just give up??!

Fuck. That.

This is also why we have to talk about the catastrophic lack of information literacy and critical thinking skills in young leftist spaces. A good example is the recent migration of TikTok users to the Chinese app RedNote. It was sweet for a little while as there was cultural exchange and friendship and memes. But then, predictably, it dove hard into "ah, once again The Evil US Government Has Lied To Us and there are no problems at all in China!" I have seen posts float by on my dash that unironically claim this is the case and China is truly great and Americans should want to move there and clearly all that business about authoritarian control and mass repression was just a ruse by, again, The Evil US Government. If you are so utterly devoid of basic information literacy and research abilities that your standard of proof for "is the Chinese government repressively authoritarian and totalitarian" is "a random Chinese person on an app in a country where the Internet is viciously controlled and voicing the slightest criticism can make you disappear told me that it isn't," then for Christ's fucking sake, you need help. For one, it wasn't just the US government saying this. It was, y'know, Chinese dissidents, the entire nation of Taiwan, historians, academics, researchers, the Uyghur Muslims of Xinjiang, etc etc. If your only standard for believing or supporting anything is "the opposite of what the US government thinks," then you are perfect targets for authoritarianism. Hey, a person living under an authoritarian regime who will punish them if they speak out against it told me everything was fine! Clearly there's nothing to worry about and we should want it here in America!

Come on. Come on.

This is also the case because uneducated young leftists like to unironically label themselves "communists" or "Marxist-Leninists" as if it's cool and hip and has never been involved in anything problematic in all of history, so anything that calls itself that must be supported. Shoutout to the idiot in my notes recently who reblogged a several-year-old post just to shout at me about how historical communists NEVER worked with or collaborated with fascists, because something something The Communists Were The Pure Shining Good Guys! (Uh, nobody tell them about the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact.) Clearly, the Chinese Communist Party is good and beneficial, end of story, no more criticism or caution needed! Obviously, yes, official American policy toward China has often been driven by basic Sinophobia, and the determination that nobody can change American hegemony or unipolarity or its ability to call the shots how it pleases. But if that is the literally only criteria you're using, then yeah. If you're so unaware that "the Chinese people are ordinary human beings" and "the Chinese government is repressive and authoritarian" are statements that can and in fact do coexist, then apparently you've missed the situation you're in right now, where "the American people are ordinary human beings" and "the American government is repressive and authoritarian" is also the case. Because online leftism is essentially devoid of a consistent moral principle and will just blithely switch up to support Bad Things as long as they're being done by governments with the correct ideological label, here we are.

Anyway. This is getting long, but the main takeaway is that the "all resistance against Trump is doomed and I guess we just gotta die :(" line is now, somehow, often coming from the same people who were constantly yelling that the only hope was a Glorious Revolution against Biden-Harris, and it is somehow even stupider. So you'll trumpet about Gloriously Overthrowing The Government all the day long as long as a Democrat is in office, but the instant a Republican gets in there instead and starts acting like an actual fascist, welp, time to just shut up and accept our doom and not even bother to struggle? Please tell me how any of that makes sense. Especially when actively confounding the Trump/Musk Axis of Evil is already working. There is also the fact that the establishment-media types are supporting this narrative for reasons of their own; witness the fact that the entire US corporate media is owned by oligarchs who hastened to bend the knee and pledge fealty to Trump 2.0. They obviously also have a reason for inculcating hopelessness in you, and that the only recourse is to shut up, accept it, and let them continue to rob you blind. Because American democracy will never matter as much as money, power, and control for the Billionaire Bros.

The point is: this is a bad-faith narrative on all sides. Whether it's coming from the online leftists in their latest head-spinningly hypocritical volte-face, the oligarch-owned corporate media that wants to feed you constant Bad News to keep you clicking and worried and distracted and unable to resist, the Trumpist power that wants people to quit making this pesky stink about all their authoritarian fascist adventures, or anyone else. There is nobody who has your best interests at heart if they are telling you that everything is doomed and the only thing to do is lie down and take it. There is no logical reason you should listen to them. Go forth and keep resisting, in whatever way presents itself. Those cumulative small actions are far more effective than any Splendid Revolution that never, ever materializes, while the people who preach it just sit back and whine about how things are so bad now so clearly they couldn't. Shut up.

It is always important. It always matters. It will make a difference.

Courage, etc.

#rabidkermit #ask #politics for ts #the national nightmare

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acid-ixx · 4 months ago

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✮ — 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍 : in which control is your only friend . . . (concept idea)

guys let me cook on this one but i suddenly want to post about an isekai trope au with modern! reader being transported into the world of dc comics. of course you're sentient, but sentience doesn't mean autonomy, because you're forced to don a new identity as a vigilante; guided by a malicious system only you can perceive.

a superhero, a new canon to the world, whose body is still adjusting to its given powers. you are not omnipotent, you are not a deity, and you most certainly could not adapt at such a timely rate; but you were once omniscient to the multiple plots and universes of the world you now live in. that is the only advantage you have amongst the unease you feel at the knowledge that eyes are now plastered all over your existence; a twisted game toying with you, with the price being your very life.

turns out, your existence is controlled by the very viewers (you guys, the commentors, the voters) who determine whichever fate you land on, a rule told by the system from when you were once transported into the world. whether it'd be mere yes or no answers to awkward questions, or even something as major as choosing to save others, or yourself in a life or death situation, and even as far as your love interests— only they can choose, and you'd be left to commit upon such acts, with or without your consent.

imagine, not only your presence is bared naked to the entire world, but every word you say are remembered, are criticized weekly. each and every action of yours that aren't determined by your cruel fans will gain both equal and opposite reactions.

your superhero name is chosen by whoever is the sick mastermind of this entire game. and you! for now, silly you would enjoy the momentary lapses of excitement meeting your favorite characters, but happiness in such a world does not exist. the longer you stay, where every week, your own destiny dictated by phone calls, comments, likes, reactions, and polls; the more you wish you never once set out to abide within the rules of this... game.

it is only your emotions, your thoughts that you can control, but never certain actions at major events. there is no such thing as discontinuity, or changing plotlines once you're able to catch a moment on what you truly wish to say.

as your story is published amongst thousands of people, it is up to your viewers, your deities, to decide whether or not you should live, die, or give you a chance to try to survive without them.

and it is up to you whether to fight back, or to allow their choices to destroy your very life.

either way, your tale is set to capture the hearts of many. and the only destiny nobody, not even your fanbase, nor you, could change, are the multiple set of characters within your world to eventually set their eyes on you.

and my, oh my, it is never once mentioned within these lines of texts that these characters are controlled by anybody, no?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ are you interested to join your journey ?

♛ —⠀YES !⠀ yes, i'd love to see where this goes.

♚ —⠀NO !⠀⠀i'd rather not endanger myself, no thank you.

#🧁... yael's misc.#🍡... yael's concepts.#<- new tag guys #yandere dc #yandere dc comics #yandere batfam #yandere superfam #yandere concept #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x male reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere batman #yandere x gn reader #yandere justice league #yandere dc villains

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pumpyriah · 4 months ago

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Please help an unemployed brown mixed disabled trans person sustain their family + help their parents leave venezuela

Hello tumblr dot com users! I'm Ren, a trans and disabled venezuelan trying to get back into art. And as of the 1st of nov 2024 I'm officially unemployed and really, really broke 🥲

If you want a more extended version of our situation you can reffer to my last post thread from months ago, I decided to finally create this one as an updated version.

Summarizing and updating extremely quickly what has happened this last time: The humanitarian Parole is no longer available, The Darien has become way more dangerous and inaccesible to cross and the Panama goverment is going to get toughter, considering this is a mostly usamerican site I hope I don't have to mention what happened this month over there, and obviously there's certainty shit isn't going to get any better from this point onwards. Things have changed so much that my mother started considering emigrating to Spain.

As some of the people close to me know, I really dislike being in the necessity of e-begging without at least offering something in return to people helping me because I don't feel ok doing so otherwise. That's why in this post I have several avenues to help me depending on what anyone might preffer.

Our current plan is to keep saving as much as we can while we wait and hope for a relative of my father to present a Family Reunification TPS while there is still chance, if neither of those don't work or something happens, we'll help either him or my mother go to Spain instead. We are definitively not giving up, but that doesn't mean things didn't get harder.

❗Some of the most urgent needs we're currently trying to cover:

7-12$ Bug poison. We have an extreme problem of cockroach infestation

20-25$ Rispheridona resupply

10-15$ Glasses reparation

6-10$ Shower reparation

+30$ Mother's car revision

+20$ By-Weekly groceries

+15$ General Medicines

You can make as little as a 1 USD donation by simply buying a high quality piece I've done recently!

I'm also currently still offering extremely cheap comms for little chibi doodles like the ones in the pics below!!

Either way. If you can't of don't wish to donate or commission. Please know that just by sharing this around as much as possible is enough to help. Thank you <3

ppal

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art · 11 months ago

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Creator Spotlight: @camberdraws

Hello! My name is Camber (any pronouns), and I’m a mixed media illustrator located in the southwestern United States. I love drawing everything, but I have a special interest in depicting strange creatures and environments, often accompanied by abstract imagery and mark-making. Professionally, I’ve worked creating concept art and 2D assets for museum exhibits, but currently, I am engaged full-time as a software developer and make standalone illustrations in my free time. I’ve been posting art on Tumblr since I was a teenager, and the site has been very welcoming towards my work to this very day!

Check out Camber’s interview below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I’ve had an interest in drawing since I was barely sentient, but at thirteen years old I decided to become “serious” about art. I was all about reading tutorials and doing a ton of studies. I would tote my heavy instructional art books to school every single day (my poor back!) Despite all this, I decided to forgo art school in favor of a bachelor’s degree in Computer Science at my local college. Alongside my major, I received a minor in Art Studio with a specialization in fine art, which totally changed my views on creating artwork and drastically changed my style.

How has your style developed over the years?

As mentioned previously, my style did a 180 after I studied under some very skilled fine art professors! As a kid, my drawings were very realism-heavy and inspired by video game concept art. I mostly worked digitally, too. During college, I was thrown for a loop when we were instructed to do strange things like, for example, make a bunch of marks on paper using pastel, WITHOUT looking, and then turn said marks into a finished piece of art! I quickly and deeply fell in love with abstract work, and especially appreciated images that are not easily parsed by the viewer. Since then, I’ve made it my goal to combine abstract mark-making with more representational subject matter.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Hmmm, one habit I really enjoy as an artist is strictly tracking the amount of time I spend drawing! I currently work a full-time job wholly unrelated to art, so I have to be careful with my time if I want to spend enough hours drawing each week. I created a spreadsheet that allows you to enter the amount of minutes you’ve drawn each day and calculate how much drawing time you still need to reach your weekly goal (I aim for 20 hours a week.) Having such a clear, numbers-based objective keeps me motivated to work like nothing else!

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I know this is a common inspiration, but Hayao Miyazaki’s work has been rewiring my neurons since I was a child. Seemingly all of my artistic interests can be summed up by the movie Princess Mononoke: it has strange/abstract creature designs, a strong focus on nature and environmental storytelling, and a mix of dark and hopeful themes. Additionally, I’ve been deeply inspired by video game series such as Zelda, Okami, Pikmin, and Dark Souls. But arguably, none of these have influenced me more than Pokemon! I’ve been drawing Pokemon since I could barely hold a pencil, and I haven’t stopped since! I believe my love of designing creatures originated with my endless deluge of Pokemon fanart during my childhood.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

I’ve always been fascinated by 3D mediums and am so tempted to try them out! Whether that’s 3D models created digitally or sculptures made from clay, I profoundly admire artists who have this skill. Oftentimes, it feels like I don’t have time to delve into a totally different artistic paradigm. However, I feel very strongly that learning new skills can enrich your current work. I should take that advice and someday give 3D mediums a shot!

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I am in the process of creating an art book (a dream of mine!) and have been executing smaller drawings of concepts I find interesting from both a visual and storytelling standpoint. A recent drawing for said book is that of a snail made of ink with an ink bottle as a shell, and it went absolutely viral! I’ve never had an experience like this as an artist before and it has been spectacular! I was able to open a shop using my newly acquired art printer and sell many prints of my snail. Creating something original, directly stemming from my interests, and having that resonate with so many people has been unreal. I couldn’t ask for more as an artist!

What advice would you give to younger you about making art that’s personal or truthful to your own experiences?

I would tell my younger self to chill out and experiment more! I was so caught up in the idea that I needed to have a realistic style to be considered “good.” I also believed that technical skill was the only measure of how worthy my art was. That’s not to say technical skill doesn’t matter, but I now firmly believe the creativity and voice of your ideas far outweigh the skill of execution in terms of importance. Technical skills should elevate ideas, not the other way around. Once I began to revel in strange ideas and stories for my work, depicted oftentimes in odd styles or mediums, I truly found my voice as an artist.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

My peers here on Tumblr inspire me more than anything! Sharing my work with contemporaries and giving each other support brings me joy like no other, and keeps me motivated to continue creating. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them! @beetlestench, @theogm-art, @trustyalt, @ratwednesday, @phantom-nisnow, @svltart, @mintsdraws, @mothhh-hh, @jupiterweathers, @thesewispsofsmoke, @picoffee, @fetchiko, @kaisei-ink, and @pine-niidles just to name only a few!

Thanks for stopping by, Camber! If you haven’t seen their Meet the Artist piece, check it out here. For more of Camber’s work, follow their Tumblr, @camberdraws!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #camberdraws

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 4 months ago

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The Coldest Blue

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x twin sister!reader Warnings: Angst. Word count: ~2.1k

Summary: When her husband returns unexpectedly from the ongoing war, she is elated. However, the sinister news she receives in the days that follow threatens to shatter her happiness.

Author's note: Happy Halloween! No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She startled as a cold hand was placed gently upon her arm, the sensation tugged her violently from the warm and blissful comfort of slumber that she had been about to succumb to. As she turned over in the bed, her heart felt as though it ceased beating in her chest, and her eyes widened in shock as she took in the unexpected sight of her husband.

“Aemond!” She gasped, all traces of sleep suddenly cleared from her mind.

She reached out to touch him, and immediately he clasped her hands in his. The contact sent a shiver down her spine - he had always had that effect upon her, the simplest brush of his fingers against hers often caused butterflies in her stomach. It had been that way ever since their mother had informed them they were to be married. However, the juxtaposition of the chill of his skin against the buttery-soft warmth of the crisp, white bedding was jarring.

He must have come straight to her after having dismounted Vhagar, and his skin was still chilled from the night air of the flight – all the way from Harrenhal – a place that had torn her twin, her husband, away from her for months. It was no surprise that he felt shockingly unfamiliar, the last time they had touched felt like a distant memory.

She had made a home in loneliness, the ache of his absence, alongside continuous fear and uncertainty had become so familiar that it felt like slipping on an old pair of slippers. No longer would she pine for the weekly raven that delivered news of his well being, and declarations of his love and loyalty to her, instead she must now grow accustomed to his presence by her side, though it was an adjustment she was all too happy to make.

“I did not know you would be returning,” she said softly, a twinge of guilt in her tone – had she known then she would not have been abed, she would have prepared for his return, provided a warmer welcome. A man that had spent months away at war did not deserve to return to the sight of his wife’s sleeping back. “You did not send word.”

She propped herself up on her elbow, releasing his hands as she leaned against the pillows gazing down at him. Even in the dim candlelight that burned low upon the bedside table – she had taken to sleeping with a lit candle when Aemond had departed, unable to bear sleeping alone in the dark – his eye was still as vibrant as ever. At least that still feels familiar. Eyes of the coldest blue, that stared into hers with such intensity she was often torn between wanting to lose herself in it, or turn her face away for fear of that very thing happening.

“I just wanted to see you,” he replied quietly, as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

Her mind reeled with a thousand questions and he laid there patiently, watching her impassively, as she sorted through her thoughts, deciding upon which she would ask first.

Does mother know you’re back? Aegon? How are you feeling?

“Is it over then? Have you come back to me?” are the questions she finally settled upon.

“Mmm…it is over,” he told her, “Daemon is dead.”

Her breath caught in her throat as happy tears filled her eyes, not quite able to believe what she had heard. “I have missed you so,” she whispered in a trembling voice, “you cannot imagine how much it gladdens my heart to have you back.”

“You should sleep, my love,” he murmured.

“What?!” she demanded, outraged by the notion. Her lips parted and her brow furrowed as she stared at him incredulously. She had not seen him for months, how could he simply appear in their bed without warning and then just expect her to fall asleep?

“I have not known peace in such a long time,” he explained softly, “I just want to watch you as you sleep. I did not mean to wake you, I just could not resist touching you.”

“We need to tell mother that you are back,” she argued, reaching for him again. Once more, he took her hand in his, his slender fingers chilly against the soft skin of the back of her hand. “Aegon must know you have returned.”

“Later,” he insisted, “sleep.”

Despite the commanding nature of his request, his vibrant, blue eye held within it a silent plea that she could not ignore. She sighed, turned onto her side, and closed her eyes. There was a part of her that had daydreamed that Aemond would ravish her upon his return, eager for the closeness and intimacy that only she could provide, after such a long separation. She was more than a little disappointed that he had made no such attempt, though she supposed he was tured after his journey home.

She had expected the excitement of the past few moments to prevent her from falling asleep. To her surprise, the pull of sleep dragged her under swiftly, a comforting, inky blackness enveloping her. Eyes of the coldest blue filled her dreams that night.

When she awoke the next morning, her tired mind was convinced she had dreamed Aemond’s return, especially as when she turned to his side of the bed, it was empty, utterly unrumpled as though it had not been slept in. Her heart sank, disappointment settling upon her chest like a stone that threatened to crush her. The mere act of throwing the covers back and climbing out of bed felt like an effort, her bones felt heavy with sadness.

She padded barefoot, slowly, to the adjoining nursery, stopping in her tracks when she saw the back of Aemond, stood in his riding leathers, looking over the cradle of their son, Rhaegar. The warm wave of relief that washed over her almost made her knees buckle, such was the elation that she had not imagined the return of her beloved twin and husband. Her cheeks almost ached under the strain of her smile, she had not expressed such joy in a long time.

Rhaegar had been a tiny babe when Aemond had pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head in farewell all those months ago. Now, he was approaching his second name day, and growing to resemble his father more with each passing day, his features possessed a sharpness that was uncanny to Aemond’s.

The infant babbled happily as he sat in his cradle, chubby fists clenched around a wooden dragon toy.

“Are you pleased to see your father?” She cooed as she came to stand beside Aemond.

Rhaegar squealed upon seeing her, waving his toy vigorously.

“You may hold him if you wish,” she urged her husband gently.

Aemond shook his head. “He seems happy enough, I do not wish to disturb him. My boy…he has grown.”

She hummed in agreement, nodding. “He looks more like you with each passing day.”

Aemond reached out a hand towards the child, stopping short of touching him. His expression became pensive, a faraway look in his eye, before he pulled his arm back, letting it drop back to his side.

His behaviour in the short time he had been back was puzzling to her, yet she knew that war changed people. Hopefully, as time passed, he would return more to himself, and be the man she married once more.

He turned and walked from the room as the nursemaid entered and lifted the child from his cradle in order to wash and dress him for the day.

As she returned to her own chamber, she noticed that bread, fruit and cheese had been laid out upon the table, by her chambermaids, for her to break her fast. Aemond had taken the armchair beside the fireplace, his favourite place to settle before he had left to defend Aegon’s claim to the throne.

“Will you join me for breakfast?” She asked hopefully.

“No,” he responded, “I have little appetite.”

She pursed her lips. She wanted to press the issue, he needed to eat, to maintain his strength, yet she did not wish to nag and cause him any additional torment after he had already endured so much.

“We will have to take Rhaegar to see Vhagar now you are back,” she said, attempting to lighten the mood, as she seated herself at the table and placed grapes upon her plate. “He is big enough now that he can actually comprehend what she is.”

“Vhagar…did not survive the battle,” Aemond uttered, staring off into the unlit fireplace, his tone sombre.

No wonder he seemed so different. Losing his dragon would have been a devastating blow to Aemomd, after all he had endured to claim her. She was his most prized possession.

“I am sorry, my love,” she murmured, rising from her seat and approaching him. “How…how did it happen?”

“Caraxes and her were surprisingly well matched. They both now rest at the bottom of the God’s Eye…alongside Daemon, and…”

He stopped, shaking his head and lifting his gaze to meet hers. The sadness within made her want to cry. As she stepped towards him, he held his hand out, the coolness of his skin enveloping the warmth of hers.

“And what?” she pressed quietly.

“It does not matter. At least I am reunited with you, I got to see you.”

She was about to respond when a knock at the door interrupted her. She sighed, calling out for them to enter.

A page boy opened the door, just enough for him to slip through the crack, before bowing to her. “Princess, the King has requested that you go at once to the Small Council chamber.”

She frowned, scoffing as she replied, “can it not wait until I am dressed?”

“Apologies, princess,” the page boy said, not meeting her eye, “the king insists that it is urgent.”

“Very well,” she huffed, tying her robe tighter around her nightgown, “I shall be there momentarily.”

The page boy bowed, leaving the way he had come.

“I suppose we could not avoid it forever,” Aemond said wearily, rising from his seat.

He trailed after her as they walked to the Small Council chamber, his steps quiet behind hers.

“Do not forget that I love you, I always have,” he told her softly as they approached the heavy doors.

“And I love you,” she said in turn, her heart fluttering as the coolness of his fingers briefly entwined with hers.

She did not knock, simply pushed open the door and stepped in. Only Aegon and their mother stood at the long, wooden table.

Her mother’s big, brown eyes were tearful, as Aegon leaned over a parchment that was rolled out before him, his features pinched in anguish. His bottom lip trembled in a manner that only occurred when he was angered to the point of near hysteria.

She had expected them both to be overjoyed to see Aemond, considering he stood at her side, but both seemed too engrossed in the contents of the letter they were reading.

“Oh, my dearest love,” her mother whispered tearfully, clutching a handkerchief as she stepped towards her and embraced her tightly.

“What? What is it?” She asked, and pulled back, brow furrowed in concern as she looked at her mother and then Aegon.

Alicent kept her arms around her, stroking her hair gently, as Aegon looked up from the parchment. His voice was quiet, almost croaky, as he spoke. “News from Harrenhal.”

What more could there possibly be?!

“So?” she asked in exasperation, “what is it?”

“There was a battle between Aemond and Daemon above the God’s Eye…”

I know this, I know this, I know this!

She wanted to scream in frustration, he was not telling her anything she did not know already. She pulled her shoulders up towards her ears momentarily, an impatient gesture for him to continue.

“Daemon is dead,” Aegon said, swallowing thickly, “and so is Aemond.”

She almost wanted to laugh. No, he was not! What a ridiculous thing to say.

“No, he is–” she reached out to Aemond, grasping the front of his riding leathers, her breath hitching as her hand passed straight through him.

Her blood ran cold as her horrified eyes lifted to meet his.

“I just wanted to see you,” he murmured, eyes of the coldest blue looking straight into hers as he faded away to nothing.

“...he’s gone,” she whispered tearfully. The painful clenching of her heart dulled every other sensation, and she did not even feel it when her mother wrapped her arms tighter around her.

Eyes of the coldest blue, let me see into you.

He had returned to her one final time, and would never again.

Read on AO3

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meliciousmel13 · 4 months ago

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➛ K I L L A

paring: killer!bsf!billie x reader

warnings: smut, mentions of blood (duh), kiddnaping, cheating, mesionary, doggy, billie calls r names (slut, like a few times), mean billie, mentions of alchool, kind of angst(?), strap-on sex, fingering, r has a bf, smut written by a minor. i think that's it, please comment if you find any more! ty

wc: 4,413

SYNOPSIS: billie kills, billie heals.

taglist: @chrissv4mp, @billiesguitar, @ilovebillieeilish2000, @d14n4ol, @raspberrymacaroon if your not a part of this list but want to be comment under my tag list post, which is on my masterlist.

an: so sorry this took so long, i had exams and was also busy irl with things, after finishing i feel so fucking tired and literally everything discusts me idk what tf is wrong with me.

he was sweet at first. you swore it. he was the type to give you flowers everyday. and used to send you good morning and goodnight texts everyday. until he didn’t. you don’t know when you detected that change in him. you don’t know if he just decided to be cruel one day.

he doesn’t even hit you. is what he says. it’s true. he doesn’t. but what he does do, is manipulate and completely destroy your ego with just words.

like when he pointed out that it looked like you were gaining wight. he didn’t even have to tell you. you were like his trained dog. his trophy wife—girlfriend. like you had no use beyond your looks.

he’d always let his “friends” touch you, always try to impress them with you. point out that you were his pretty, submissive, pet girlfriend. most of them were ugly too.

was what billie says. she said that you should leave the asshole or maybe break into his house kill him in his sleep. she suggested doing it, but you always laughed it off. saying he treats you completely fine.

she always came over at your house when she knew he was there. intruding on your weekly dates and sitting on your couch like it was hers. he’d always glare at her. and you understood she could be a little infuriating sometimes and a little possessive but if henry wanted you, then he’d have to deal with your best friend too.

you met billie in 3rd grade. when you were small and new to the huge school. she approached you, and asked you to play with her in recces. you had so much in common. she loved to run, and you loved to run…

you were good together. you balanced each other out.

but she scares you sometimes—considering she has a gun, she’d always pretend to be dead. but you were immune to her little pranks now. she did them too often. you were too used to them.

you went to the bar just to get a drink or two. to get a break from your annoying boyfriend and equally annoying best friend, you loved her. really, you did. but she tires you out.

until you saw an incredibly hot boy walk toward you.

“hey,” he said, with a pretty smile, he was beautiful, you knew boys weren’t supposed to be beautiful, but he was.

“hi,” you said back, slightly looking up at him, tall too.

“think i can buy you a drink?”

you bit your lip, didn’t even think about henry, didn’t even think about your boyfriend.

you nodded, “i’m quinn, and you are..?” he asked, waiting for you to say your name.

“y/n.” you answered.

he was sweet and polite—talked with you a little to see if you were interested, not the intrusive, even-if-you-say-no-i-still-wanna-annoy-you type. told you he could drive you home, even asked for your number

you listened. found yourself in his jacked up car. didn’t even question why it smelled so awful in there (billie’s pranks made you not even question it). or why he had a shady duffle bag in his back seat.

“you want some water?” he asked you, driving away from the bar, and to the main road.

“yeah,” you nodded, taking a few sips and recapped it, placing it in the cup holder in the dashboard, “thank you.” you mumbled.

“you’re welcome.”

you don’t know exactly when you blacked out. it happened all at once almost. his hands on your body tying you to a wooden chair. when you woke up you were in a big warehouse. drowsy, quinn. on your phone, scrolling.

“what?” you say, looking up, and looking around. trying to find out why you were tied to a chair. when your gaze fell on him.

“your awake.” he smiled, “i think i used too much powder.” what the fuck?“you slept for too long.”

how. how the hell. did you get kidnapped. it was infuriating. all you wanted was to relax and have a drink. but you get into even more annoying bullshit.

he stayed on your phone for at least 30 minutes, or at least that’s how much it felt like. quinn groaned, massaging his temples and looking up at you.

“you got a charger?” he said, and you shake your head. which made him sigh even louder.

it took a while but he found a charger in his duffle bag. found a plug and sat down on the dirty floors continuing to scroll through your phone. also a creep. why was everyone you were remotely attracted to either 34 years old or a complete weirdo?

you heard the warehouse door creek, and see a dark figure creep inside. wearing all black clothes and—they were walking towards you.

they were in front of you now, looking up, you say a black mask and sunglasses with the hood of the hoodie covering almost everything. you wondered how he(?) could see.

you let out a small “mhph” and the figure tilted it’s head, going behind you and waiting for quinn to notice. he didn’t. so he hit the corner of the wooden chair, emitting a loud “THUMP” through out the large warehouse.

quinn finally looked behind him. “hey— uh, are you..?” he stood up, probably thinking the figure was also a killer? kidnapper? whatever. maybe he was his sidekick or something. you didn’t know. all you knew was that the person behind you had a knife. and it was currently on your neck.

“hey! whoaa, calm down dude. you don’t need to do that. we’re friends right?” for a kidnapper, he was pathetic. really fucking pathetic.

you couldn’t see behind you, but considering quinn’s smile, it was good. “yeah! yeah.. your nodding so we’re friends. we’re friends.” he repeated. seeing the man? woman? person? you didn’t know, walk towards him, with the knife hanging off his right hand.

you never would’ve seen it coming. all you saw was blood splattering across the walls and dripping onto the floors. you wanted to scream. but you closed your eyes instead. the scene of the knife slitting quinn’s throat. how he tried dropped to the floor and coughed blood.

the scene kept repeating in your brain and you saw it when you closed your eyes. you finally open your eyes. and saw the figure walking towards you, dropping the bloody knife to the floor and bending to your eye level.

it was sort of intimate. how his bloody gloved hands removed your gag. you breathed through your mouth for a while. swallowing and licking your dry lips. “thank you.” you mumble-whisper, he was untying you now and you didn’t know whether to be scared of him, or thankful that he just killed your kidnapper.

he untied you, took your hand and walked towards the seemingly dead body of quinn. there was a body of blood around him, he bent down and took the car keys from quinn’s dead body.

you felt safe. it was scary because you felt safe. a killer was holding your hand and leading you to a car and you felt safe.

he opened the door to quinn’s car. and you realized that he hasn’t spoken a word ever since he walked into the doors of that warehouse.

you didn’t know what to say. all you wanted to do was go home. or go to billie. anywhere that’s not here.

his driving was that to billie’s. you didn’t notice, maybe you did, your was brain too messy to think logically. of why you were in a killer’s car, and why you felt safe.

you arrived at the nearest building. a gas station. just staring at the gas station. did he expect you to get off? you couldn’t. your knees were too weak. so you just stared at him. and he stared at you. just holding the wheel and looking out his side of the window, waiting for you to leave. like he’d done his part or something.

“what?” you said dryly, “i’ll go— just gimme a little.” you sigh, and lay back on the seat. you could hear him sigh too. he bucked his hips and slid half way down the seat. just like billie did.

you both breathed for a while. until you gained the courage to leave. he drove off the second you got out. you walked to the gas station. there were 2 other cars behind you and you had blood on your cheeks.

the bell ringed at your entrance. and the part-timer didn’t spare a glance at you. you felt small. you kind of wanted to be small, you wanted to be like, six or something.

“um—” you wanted to go home. all you could think of was home, home, home and billie.

“what.” she said, still not looking up from her phone. you wanted her to see you. thinking your appearance would explain your situation without you having to move your mouth.

she sighed, and looked up. closing her phone and looking. her eyes skimmed past your skirt and hoodie and stared at your face.

she helped. gave you her phone so you could call someone to pick you up and you called billie. you knew if you called your henry he’d take two hours to get here. she helped clean up your bloody face and you finally talked.

“i ran away.” you explained, and kathryn listened intently, “i— i um—” you stutter, and she rubbed your arms reassuringly, you were struggling to find a good excuse, you couldn’t. so you told her the half-truth.

billie came to pick you up in record time, it took her 25 minutes. which was fast because the ride to here would take at least 33 minutes. probably sped up.

billie was concerned when she came, she hugged you tightly when you got out the station, mumbling “thank fuck your safe.” and “i don’t know what i’d do without you.” it was the first time you’ve seen her so scared. she wasn’t the type to panic, if she did she would hide it.

you were still shook. your back was stiff and your usual laid back position in her car turned all polite with your hands on your lap and your head towards the window. whenever billie asked something you’d reply dryly, you felt bad but what did she expect?

at first she wanted to take you home. to your own house that you own. but you couldn’t stay alone after that. it was too traumatizing. so she drove you to her house.

when you entered your nose was filled with billie. her musky cologne and her.

she took you to her room, and it was a mess. you didn’t care though, collapsed onto her queen sized bed. and tried to not pay attention to the smell, it reminded you of his car. the water, the bag. everything reminded you of him.

“do you wanna change?” she asked, and you nodded. looking around her room like it was the first time you’ve seen it.

she was holding the clothes now, expecting you to get up and wear them. you didn’t. just stared up at her.

“come on,” she mumbled, taking your arm and helping you get up. you didn’t know what happened, maybe your brain finally processed the entire situation. maybe you expecting felt safe enough to just cry. you did, you felt tears welling up in your eyes when billie tried taking your shirt off, you cried in her arms and she held you.

you let out small whimpers and hiccups of her name and while trying to calm you down she put your head on her shoulder, turning your head you saw a pile of black clothes in the corner, probably thrown in a hurry. ignoring it, you dig your head in her neck and breathe her in. her scent calmed you down.

its been 3 minutes now and billie has been rubbing you back and kissing your shoulders the whole time.

all you wanted to do was curl up in her lap and not think. you just wanted to not think for once. maybe she could run her hands through your hair while doing it. you didn’t have to ask. she took you to lay your head on her lap. and your heart ached with something you’ve never felt before, something indescribable and immensely painful. you curled up, half in her lap, half in your own, in desperate need of comfort from someone other than him yourself. for a moment, her gentle touch helped you forget.

it was peaceful. it was so damn peaceful and you wanted to cry because you’ve never felt so safe before. your knees hurt. and the way your legs were positioned on her lap actually hurt. but you couldn’t get away. you couldn’t think—you couldn’t do anything. it was like you were frozen.

but you liked it. you liked not thinking and not doing anything—it felt good. like for once you didn’t have to do anything. billie ran her hands through your hair and slowly undressed you with her eyes. she rubbed your hips and kissed your arms. it felt good and you wanted more.

“can i take this off?” she asked.

“yes.” you replied, turning around slightly to see her pulling your hoodie above your arms and off. she laid it down next to her and she gazed upon you like you were the moon and stars and her savior. you felt needed. in that moment you felt like someone wanted you, beyond just as friends or girlfriends or boyfriends.

billie finally touched you. she touched your belly first. rubbing your sides and looked at you. you felt kind of shy? her eyes made you shy. you wanted to look away. but you couldn’t. gasping, once her roaming hands touched your breasts.

“fuck.” she mumbled, and you didn’t even think of what you were doing. just focused on how good it felt, to have her on top of you—touching you. it was the sort of thing you dream of and never expect it to actually happen. but it did. it was happening right now.

“billie.” you whine-gasp as her hand slips under your skirt and lifting it up. it was a pornographic scean really. literally the things you’d see in porn. this was different though—heavenly.

the skirt was laying above your hips, revealing your pink underwear, and billie looked stuck in a haze. she sighed. it wasn’t an annoyed sigh or anything, she was in awe. you could see it all over her face—you could see what she was thinking.

one hand was playing with your nipples, tweaking and pinching. the other was just rubbing up and down your thigh. she spread your legs and your head was near the edge of the bed.

billie stopped the movements on your nipples and fully focused on your underwear, pulling them to the side and biting her lip, “you’re fuckin’ dripping f’me.” she breathed out, running her thumb up your pussy and collecting your arousal, “all this for me? hm?” you were flushed, if the room wasn’t already hot she was making it hot.

“billie.” you whined, and she tilted her head, “touch—”

“touch you?” she interrupted, “you want me to touch you? huh? my slut wants me to touch her,” she chuckled bending down your your legs at the side of her hips, she kissed and nipped at your neck, “c’mon, tell me how i should touch you.” she pulled away and grinned as you bit your lip, looking away and gripping her messy sheets.

“if you can’t say anything then how do i know where to touch you? so fuckin’ whiny.” she groaned, gripped your underwear with her whole fist and dragged her middle finger through your folds, slipping it half and inch in and pulled away before you could beg for more.

“billie.” you whined, bucking your hips and looking up at her with the most pitiful expression, pouty lips and eyebrows furrowed.

“billie,” she mimicked your whine, “can’t wait ny’ longer please js’ fuck me already.” she laughed, imitating you. she was so mean. by now you were ruining her bed sheets, your thighs were stained and her dark jeans were a mess, because of you.

she was sitting with her knees bent under your thighs, your legs were laid by her hips and your pussy had a perfect angle to grind on her stomach, you didn’t, she gave you a perfect opportunity to get the pleasure you wanted but you didn’t. you had this burning desire to be good for her. you just wanted to be good for her.

her hand was still gripping you underwear and you were wondering what she was thinking about, “billie?” you called out her name, looking up at her innocently like you weren’t spread out beneath her.

“yeah?

“need you.” you breathed out, and that seemed to wake her up. she got up from the bed and walked towards her dresser, “where are you going?” she didn’t answer. only digging through her dresser, she pulled out a box and took something from it, you just sighed and laid your head back on the bed.

“c’mere.” she said, taking your hips to her hands and dragging you to lay back on her pillows, taking one and putting it under your back, you smiled, for no reason at all, “what?” she asked.

“what, what?

“why are you smiling?” she kissed your neck, it was sweet, how she cared about you.

“nothing.” you shook your head, and looked down to find something poking your entrance, “billie.” you looked back up.

“what?” she smirked.

“it won’t fit.” you gripped the sheets.

“i’ll make it fit.” she said, and dragged the silicone across your pussy, entering her middle finger to get you ready for her. you moaned, it was embarrassing almost. she didn’t even do anything yet, “my pretty girl.” she breathed out, adding another finger and pumping into you slowly—she started to kiss your neck, and mumble filth into your ear.

“ffuck— billie!” you moaned—loudly, right in her ear. you didn’t mean to. really, you didn’t. but she added another digit in you, your brain was already a mess.

she pulled away from your neck, groaning. looking frustrated. but not at you, “you did that on purpose didn’t you” she asked and you looked up at her, before you could reply she dragged your thighs closer to her and pumped her fingers faster.

“billie— can’t—”

“can’t what? hm? slut.”

“m’ gonna cum—” you whined, feeling her fingers brush your g-spot. your swore you heard her mumble something but it was too quiet for you to hear. all you could think of was billie billie billie. it felt so good. your mind was fuzzy and you were seeing stars.

rolling your eyes back you could feel her gaze on you. you didn’t even think, just gripped her wrist and whined, “want me to stop?” she smirked.

“no! no, don’t stop. please please— billie.”

“you can’t cum until i say so angel.” she said, cruel. you whimpered as she took her fingers out of you, taking the silicone cock and angling it to your pussy, you bit your lip, feeling her rub circles on clit and rubbing her cock up and down on your pussy.

“hurry up.” you said.

“bossy.” she mumbled, didn’t even say anything back, just laid your head back on the bed and felt the tip go into you, instead of gripping the sheets you grip her biceps, “oh.” you gasp, and billie slowed down, so you could get used to the feeling to of the strap.

“ready?” she asked, and you nodded, she filled you up and you could feel the ridges of the strap against your walls, it was almost too big, you were scared at first but she took your hand and looked down at you with an almost sweet expression, you knew what she was thinking about though.

“who said it wouldn’t fit?” she said, and you looked up at her with your mouth agape, feeling her rub up and down your thighs while waiting for you to adjust. at least she was waiting. she was better than him.

you imagined your boyfriend walking into her room, seeing billie fucking you with her strap, you imagined his angry face, how you’d whimper moan into her ear, while staring at him. you wanted him to see.

billie was moving her hips and you gripped her biceps, it hurt, almost. you felt bad for her neighbors. but that was the least of your worries.

“wish you could see yourself.” billie mumbled, and pulled out, before you could even protest she turned you around, taking your hips and lifting them up.

oh, you felt filthy. she was angling the strap to your entrance and you laid your head on the pillow, turning so you could see her. you hated that you couldn’t see her.

“billie—” before you could even whine you felt her thrust into you harshly, “oh— fuck.” you moan.

“yeah? what do you wanna say angel? can’t say—” she gripped your hips and slammed into you roughly, “can’t say a thing, hm baby?” mean. she was so mean.

“wanna’ see you.” you whine, digging your head into the pillow, billie started to kiss up your back, you didn’t even have to see her you could feel the smirk on her face. every time she drives into you, your juices squelch, drenching both of you in a mix of sweat and slick.

“wanna’ see you.” she mocked, looking down, seeing a white substance cover the end of her strap, “fuck—” billie hissed, your moans and whimpers were driving her insane. your walls cling to her, squeezing her tighter with every thrust. her pace became erratic, desperate, hips snapping harder and faster.

“so fuckin’ tight,” she sighed, letting go of your hips and gripped the pillow under your stomach, “nd’ perfect.” she plowing into you and you were so close. you could feel it, brewing in your lower stomach, you didn’t want to tell billie, scared if you did she’d take it all away and make you beg to come.

“billie— can’t hold it.” you whine, feeling her hand grip your hips so tight you knew it would bruise the next morning.

“just a little more sweetheart.” she said, and you wanted to listen, you wanted to be a good girl, for her. but you couldn’t. clenching around her and gripping the pillow in a vice grip, s hard you were scared it was going to rip. you didn’t want to ruin her pillow so you let go. holding the sheets softly.

billie saw your hesitation and sighed, “you can hold the pillow angel, i won’t be—” she licked her lips, “won’t be mad.” she reassured, and you put your hands back on the pillow.

“can i come?” you were so cute. whimpering and moaning under her. she almost said yes. wanted to say yes, but she wanted to show you how much better she was making you come, than your asshole boyfriend with a micro dick and massive ego.

“no.” she replied, and you whined.

“why not.” you had to hold back a moan, just to speak.

“cause’.”

you waited, bit your lip and closed your eyes and hoped she would finally allow you to come.

“billie.” your hands clutch onto the pillow desperately trying to hold it in. it hasn’t even been a minute yet.

“you can hold it a little more, can’t you angel?” you could’ve came right there. could’ve. it was a choice, she gave you a choice. you could come, or you could wait, just a little longer.

you held it in, feeling the strap hit deeper and deeper each thrust, it hit your g-spot every time. she already knew your body like that back of her hand and he didn’t even know what a clit was.

“how would henry think about this?” billie said, hinting to what your boyfriend would think if he saw you, “seeing you like this— hm?” you hated how she made you think of him while she was literally pounding into you.

“billie.” you warn—try to, at least. but the moan right after made it really hard to be intimidating, plus the fact that you couldn’t be intimidating to save your life. having billie trail after you where ever you go was enough scary-dog privilege. she did the intimidating, you were always smiling.

“yeah? have somethin’ to say?’ she mocked. you wanted to be mad at her, you wanted to turn around and teach her a lesson—you wanted. you never did a thing.

by this point the knot in your lower belly was hard to ignore, every time you moaned, or whined and whimpered you felt it throbbing. you squeezed around the silicone tightly feeling billie struggle to keep up the same fast pace. and you finally felt like you were winning, she was getting tired.

“can i come?” you whimpered, again, praying for her to say yes.

“you can come now angel.” billie bit her lip, holding your hips and you finally let go.

“i’m cumming!” you whimpered in between moans, screams filling her room as it finally hit you, your ears ringing and vision faltering as she helped you ride it out.

you whined when she pulled the strap out of you, leaving you empty and needy. “fuck, would you look at that.” there was a pleased smirk on her face as she looked at the soaked, creamy white strap.

“how’d that feel?” she asked, like she didn’t just give you the longest and best orgasm of your life, he’s never made you come before so you don’t even have anything to compare her to.

“s’ good.” you mumble drowsily, collapsing on your stomach to the pillow she placed there when she let go of her hold on your hips.

“so fucked out.” she smiled, and your head was turned to her bedside table, seeing some blood? red paint? something—stained on it, you ignore it, it was probably because of how old the thing was.

you heard her mumble something like, “fuck, i need to clean that” when seeing where your head was directioned, she was talking about the strap, right?

#billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish one shot

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re-lmayer · 7 months ago

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i can't afford rent because of my abusive ex and desperately need help. if i don't pay, it will cause a domino effect where i'll be homeless, lose my emotional support animals, and eventually i can be sued and my paypal account seized. i'll also fail this college semester, which will mess up all my student grant funding and getting a degree

i'm disabled and was recently hospitalized for a nervous breakdown, and stress is making me sick. i've been diagnosed with an ulcer

there's a lot of ways to help me and my cats. you can commission me on kofi, donate directly via paypal, check out my crowdfunds on youpay, share my twitter and bluesky threads, and of course reblog this post. sharing is free!

more context under the cut. it will be updated as things change

my ex boyfriend is an abusive alcoholic. he's raped me, tried to medically neglect me, stranded me at our new apartment alone with no food and a clogged toilet, and most recently refuses to pay any rent and is content to allow me to become homeless despite legal obligation

i have been granted a hud/section 8 housing voucher, but to use it a unit must pass inspection

the apartment i applied for didn't pass, and needed repairs. the landlord told me he'd accept the first applicant that could pay first month rent and a huge deposit. the housing authority told me i'd lose my voucher if i didn't proceed with this exact unit

originally, i was supposed to be on my own. but i was shoved between a rock and a hard place with the voucher and deposit. i couldn't afford the deposit despite friends crowdfunding for me, so... i asked my boyfriend for help

he needed a place to go himself, because he broke his lease bringing me and my cats in. (i was unaware of this, and had no suspicion he'd do something that would compromise his 2 bed/bath apartment)

my doctor also prescribed caregiver after my hospitalization so it seemed mutually beneficial from a financial standpoint, even if i wasn't enthused about it

we couldn't afford movers, so over the course of march we'd been moving things by the carload ourselves. the queen bed was too big, so the night before last he informed me he was dumping it while he had help from a friend to move it. i had a bedframe and mattress from the last place i'd lived, but it had already been taken to the new place. i thought we'd agreed i'd basically move in to the new place early so i'd have somewhere to sleep

come saturday night, i messaged him that the toilet was clogged. he refused to bring a snake, and told me i was using him because i don't hug and kiss him enough. (i'm a csem victim, asexual, and autistic and don't like physical affection)

he's decided he doesn't want to proceed with the unit, and it hasn't passed the inspection, so my voucher doesn't cover it yet. i can't afford the rent out of pocket, and i'm broke because i'm disabled. we agreed he'd pay rent until the voucher kicked in, then he would be added to it as my caregiver, because he'd take me to medical appointments, ensure i get my medication on time, ensure i'd and bathe, etc.

but that ship has sailed. now i'm left in a lurch, and desperately need help. a large portion of the security and pet deposits were nonrefundable, so all the previous effort would go to waste if i can't stay

because i was recently hospitalized, i don't know how i'll survive homelessness. my cats are prescribed emotional support animals, and losing them would be devastating

these are text messages from when he refused to bring the snake and dumped me:

after this, he proceeded to continuously ignore me when i'd bring up rent, that he's on the lease, and going to the bank to pay the landlord

he never responded to the above and then proceeded to act like nothing happened

he didn't respond to any of these except agreement to let me get my cats with the help of someone from my weekly ywca meetings

he is now proceeding to STILL not respond or accept responsibility despite me explaining to him in great detail what the repercussions will be if he doesn't help pay rent. he continues to say "you"

as of august 29, i don't have enough to pay the rent on my own, but i am keeping all of these text messages to present in eviction court if it comes to that. i also intend to take my ex to small claims court

the landlord's maintenance guy also """plunged the toilet""" after leaving me without a working one for five days, and after i was informed there was a problem with the entire complex's pipes. i was not here, so i can't vet if it was true. they """plunged""" without permission, and then sent me an invoice after the fact. i also can't afford this fee, and find it predatory in nature. the maintenance company is owned by the landlord

i have reached out to legal aid to ask about the legality of the landlord handling the situation like this. i will reach out to them again if i get an eviction notice

#eviction #help #aid #mutual aid #fundraising #fundraiser #gofundme #emergency #donations #signal boost #disabled #mutual aid request

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windvexer · 12 days ago

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Advice for if your practice is feeling stressful or unfulfilling (that isn't 'just stop practicing')

Before you expand: long text post!

I think it's interesting that the first line of advice stressed and unhappy practitioners often receive is 'stop practicing! take a break,' because besides a breather this doesn't actually do anything. When a person is done with that break they're still going to have the same stressful, unfulfilling practice they did before.

Stop practicing is useful advice for someone who is about to deep-fry their brain in uncontrolled Witch Fire. It's useful advice for someone who experiences unexplainable catastrophe every time they engage in magic.

I'm not sure it's useful advice for people who want to practice and are actively seeking help figuring out how.

So here are some ideas. Feel free to add your own.

If your practice has too much of a time load:

Scrape over-engineered ritual. Examine ritual formats. Are you spending a majority of your practice time engaging in elaborate ritual? Where can that be paired down?

Swap ritual for enchantments. If ritual performs an action (laying a compass), can you substitute for that ritual action by making enchanted objects that take less time to activate (enchanted compass altar cloth)?

Minimize ingredients. If you regularly perform spells that require lengthy enchantment of ingredients, can you use fewer ingredients to achieve the same results? If you're using more than 3 correspondences for any spell, is this because you are wise in your own ways, or because you just feel that more is merrier?

Mash rituals together. Do you have a string of rituals, even small ones, that you perform one after the other? Is it possible to reorganize these so they're all done at once, in the same ritual? For example, setting out an offering to the gods, a different offering for the ancestors, another for helper spirits, etc. Can you combine these all into one single offering?

Check for over-tending. Is it possible that you're repeating magical acts, like feeding wards and cleansing, more often than you need to? Did you arrive at this schedule through trial and error, or did you just guess this is how often you should do them?

Check for your own levelup: spell maintenance. If it's been a while since you re-evaluated your ritual/offering/maintenance schedule, your increase in skills may mean you need to do these tasks less often to achieve the same result.

Check for your own levelup: techniques and routines. Some techniques, like carefully entering trance, grounding, and centering, are like training wheels that wear ruts into our paths of magic. As we improve in skill, old rituals and techniques that have been carefully couched in these helpful devices may become ingrained in us so that we can perform them in almost any state of mind, much faster and easier than we could before. Experiment with any technique you've been doing for a while and see if you still need to perform time-consuming meditative or focusing techniques before you can perform the skill.

Be reasonable with your own goals. I find most 'laywitches' give themselves daily and weekly schedules that would put actual cloistered monks to shame. Did your spirits tell you they expect daily offerings, or did you decide on that an run with it? Where are you overcompensating and overexerting in your path when nobody, including yourself, asked you to?

If your practice has too much of a work load:

Much of the advice of the prior section applies. Also,

Just work less. Are you putting in 100% effort when 20% or 30% would do? Are you treating every act of magic like a performance review that will control the outcome of your magical career? I'm not being sarcastic; an actual solution to your path being too much work is to just put in less effort. If you've never tried this you may be shocked at how effective magic can be when you're only doing what needs to be done.

Find simpler, more reasonable stuff. Find new techniques, and spell and ritual formats that are paired down to fit the amount of effort that's reasonable to exert for any given magical act. If you can't work with correspondences without a lengthy act of activation, find a way to cast simple spells that doesn't rely on correspondences.

Limit research and prep. Ask yourself how much research you reasonably need to get started on any given project. Remember that a huge amount of a witch's education is experiential; you will probably never know enough until you've already done it three or four times.

Be goal-oriented; prioritize actions. Ask yourself if you've set arbitrary workloads before you can get started with anything, such as forcing yourself to write artistic grimoire pages before you're allowed to perform a ritual you're interested in.

Learn skills to help prioritize actions. If your practice is consumed by acts of upkeep such as cleansing and empowering objects, focus on learning energy sensing so you can reasonably determine whether or not an object actually needs to be cleansed or empowered.

Administrate your own practice - what can go on the back burner? Make a list of all your active ongoing projects and maintenance, including upkeep of energy batteries, spells that require maintenance, and situations you want to change and are casting spells on. Prioritize them; see which ones you can set aside.

Restructure your projects to minimize maintenance. Consolidate spells and projects where possible. For example, if you have multiple protection spells for many people that require upkeep, condense them all onto a protection altar so you can feed and tend to them all at once.

Work in batch and bulk. See where you can do batch work to lighten your load. You can bulk enchant candles and incense, instead of enchanting incense every time you do a ritual. You can enchant oils, waters, and incense to feed your spells, taking time out of upkeep.

Levelup your charging and maintenance skills. Learn energy work to attach energy tethers to batteries and other important projects so they're able to drink from the wellspring you attach them to, and stay charged.

Scrape routines that don't serve you. Examine any daily routines. Are you doing them because they're helping you, or because you feel like you're supposed to be doing something every day? See if you can replace more intensive daily routines with something less tiring, like a prayer to your path itself.

If your practice feels too silly:

You have a right to privacy. Cocooning is valid. It's fine to take steps to limit who can see and potentially judge your practice. You can keep things to yourself until you're ready.

Tend to your emotional wellness. Self-therapy, in any form you feel comfortable with, can help mitigate the inner eye of judgement.

Reduce your beliefs to palatable doses. Believing in magic for only the duration of your work is perfectly fine. You don't have to 'believe-believe' 24/7. If you're not ready to integrate the belief of magic and spirits into your baseline worldview, don't - you can agree to buy in to those beliefs only while you practice techniques and cast spells, and then put them away the rest of the time.

Scrape stuff you really can't get past. Ask yourself what about your practice feels silly. Are there trappings - like altars, ritual movements, and speaking aloud - that you don't like? Change them. Is the idea that religious faith itself is a bit cringe? Self-therapy (or you know, the regular kind) may be assistive.

Ask for help modifying your process.Is there something very specific about a ritual or technique that you just can't get past, but you don't know how to change it? Research and see what other substitute rituals are available. Ask others and see if they can help you brainstorm.

Embrace the silliness. It's not going anywhere. Believing in your practice and holding it dear and sacred is not the same as being ✨super serious gravitas✨ all the time. There are lots of things about witchcraft, and the acts of the witch, that are silly and make you realize you're doing something ridiculous. I came out here at 2 am after it's been raining to climb down a slippery riverbed to get a branch of a tree that I think is talking to me?? Because some medieval guy said Tuesday is the planet Mars and I think trees talk to me?! Ridiculous. Yet I still love it dearly in a sacred place in my heart. It can be silly and glorious at the same time.

Cast a wider net. See if you're barking up the wrong tree. Traditional Witchcraft, folk magic, lodge magic, chaos magic, eclectic neopaganism... these things are not interchangeable. If you've never explored different traditions, why not give it a go? You might find another path that feels a lot more natural to you. A lot of people fall into a certain path just because they don't know what else they could be doing!

If your practice feels unfulfilling:

What are you doing to bring yourself fulfillment? Why did you get into witchcraft? Make a list of your top 5 reasons (if you have that many). Which techniques, spells, and rituals are you regularly performing are designed to deliver these desires to you? If one of your goals of practicing witchcraft is to 'feel connected,' how often are you performing acts where the only goal is to make you feel connected?

Grow your path deliberately in the direction of your needs. What do you wish you had in your life right now? Is it the feeling of being loved? Inner peace? Feeling like nature is alive and watching you? Look for what techniques and rituals in your practice will bring these things to you. If there are none, find or develop them.

Ask for help and share your feelings. If you work with gods and spirits, do you regularly tell them how you feel about your practice and ask them for help finding fulfillment?

Find contentment in the process. It's vital to find joy in the process. If you have regular routines or upkeep you need to do, how can you modify it so that process in and of itself is satisfying to you? Try considering the visceral element of witchcraft: the words, scents, sounds, moods, and thoughts that you want to experience in your present moment. Witchcraft is experiential: a great deal of the experience you create in the tidepools of routine is under your control.

Contemplate the larger purpose. Some witches do have magical chores and responsibilities they can't or shouldn't shirk. If this is true of you, and you can't modify those routines, try refocusing on why you're doing them and the importance they hold in your path. See if you can find balance elsewhere in your practice that feels rejuvenating; sort of a 'work-play' balance of your own craft.

Set short-term goals you can celebrate. Are you undertaking a lot of 'workout routines' that are designed to basically make you magically buff, or get good at a particular skill, but you're doing them with no endgoal? Try creating short-term goals that excite your sense of wonder or accomplishment. Like, practicing tarot until you can read the Celtic Cross, or practicing energy work until you can make a four-element layered energy shield. Build goalposts for yourself, both in the short and long-term, and celebrate your successes.

Scrape routines you're not doing for any good reason. Are your regular practices things you're doing because they fill you with mystery and wonder, or because you're just pretty sure that's the kind of thing witches do? If you're bored or unfulfilled by a particular routine, consider stopping it altogether, especially if you can't think of any short-term goals that it's helping you work towards. Think about the reasons you got into witchcraft: what practices would help you fulfill those reasons, while also feeling good to practice?

Seek out a likeminded community. A good working group of friends can be invaluable. My close group of witch friends, whom I've been hanging out with for years, started as a Tumblr post asking if anyone wanted to make a small server to study witchcraft. Reach out and see who's out there to study with, talk to, and practice with. It can be loads of fun to do short-term study and practice challenges with friends, and a great way to get feedback and support.

Evaluate your spiritual relationships. Although it can be painful and challenging, sometimes we enter into our paths working with gods and spirits that after some time, we need to move on from. Is it possible your path has become stagnant because you don't want to keep working with a god or spirit that your path has been built around? It may be time to see how you can move on.

When 'take a break' might be helpful advice to heal your practice:

Of course, YMMV :)

'Taking a break' doesn't mean stop being a witch, stop believing in magic, or stop 100% of your practice. It can also mean putting a lot of projects on the back burner, switching to bare-minimum (or below minimum) maintenance, and squashing regular routines.

I'm talking specifically about taking a break in the interest of your own practice - not the conditions under which someone is ""allowed"" to stop practicing witchcraft.

Take a break to rest and let your seeds germinate. 'Fallow periods,' when you have no desire or motivation to practice witchcraft, and when it seems like there's nothing for you to do, are normal. Some witches experience this cyclically, perhaps during certain seasons or when predictable life conditions are met. There's no need to force yourself to practice when it's just not flowing. The snow on your mountaintops needs to melt to replenish your waterways, bestie. There's nothing wrong with you, the sun just isn't out yet.

When you're hitting yourself with a hammer. When something in your practice is triggering or harming you, and stopping will have no consequences, then stopping your practice for a while is probably a good idea. Use the downtime to seek healing or reformat your practice.

To open your life up for necessary work. Not every witch can out-path every problem. Consider taking a break when the problem is something you will have time and energy to work on if not for your regular magical practice.

When you're about to deep-fry your brain with Witch Fire. Consider taking a break when the problem with your practice is that you are practicing too often - such as fatigue due to excessive spellwork, divinatory obsession, trouble staying out of the spirit world (compulsive astral travel), or focus on spirits/magic/the spirit worlds are starting to erode your home, school, or work life.

To let the ripples settle. When you've done so much magic or ritual work that your life is a boat on a stormy sea, and you just need to batten down the hatches for a while and let things settle.

#witchcraft #tbl #witchblr #beginner witch

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