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icyg4l · 12 days

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PAC: What Do You Need to Know Right Now?

Hello beautiful people. Happy Monday! Today is special because this will be my first fully intuitive PAC reading, meaning no cards just vibes lmao. This week Friday, I am having yet another Five Dollar Friday Sale so stay tuned in for that! Without further ado, please select the image that resonates with you.

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: You need to learn how to surrender to the Divine. I heard “the choice is yours”. Whatever major decision you’ve been contemplating on will ultimately be up for you to decide. You choose your own destiny but you don’t have to know all the steps/details of getting there. Have some confidence in your journey. Everything will be alright. This is for some of you, if you are a business owner or your love language is acts of service, you need to learn how to say no. Turning your services down to people who don’t deserve it is okay to do. All money isn’t good money. As you try to make a name for yourself, lean into your gut feelings. Don’t navigate through this world by being willfully naive. You know more than most. Some of you may have been encountering shady characters. I am channeling the energy of Douda from The Chi; very Devil-like, King of Cups (RX) type of energy. A lot of you have been dealing with two-faced men within the past two years but I am seeing a door shutting in someone’s face in my third eye. You are going to start walking away from people/places/things that no longer serve you. This newfound courage will result in long-term abundance and prosperity. Don’t be afraid to start over. Out with the old, in with the new, babe!

extras: jenifer lewis. “candace/candy”. florist. unable to wink. listening to whitney houston. weather forecast. “maurice/morris”. feeling underestimated. desperate housewives. fearful. cotton candy. yes indeed (2018). cold at night. arm wrestling champ. loose cannon.

Pile Two: I feel like you are going through some physical changes. You could be pregnant, soon-to-be moving, upgrading your furniture, painting your house, learning how to do makeup to be an MUA, etc. You could be doing multiple things at once right now. Your ability to shift from one gig to another is admirable. You’re very versatile. You’re an independent person but you should know that you don’t have to carry the work alone. You have people around you that are willing to help and nurture your talents and skills. The car you drive was created because of team effort. The food you eat is consumable because of a team! The books you read were not solely published because of the author, but because there was a team behind them! Nobody is truly by themselves, honey! Allow people to experience your energy. I feel like it took a long time for you to be this comfortable with yourself. But ultimately, you are human and you need people around you! You will know who your people are when you get around them.

extras: diana/deana. red flags. movie theatre. drug major. oomf. cheese lover. movement. smokey. black eyed peas. rice & peas. red nails. classic manicure. turning 30/milestone birthday.

Pile Three: I feel like you’re guarding your energy right now, Pile Three. You’ve been caved in with your lover, lol. I didn’t mean for this to turn into a love reading but heyyyy, I see you! :). Your union was not supposed to last as long as it has on the surface but it did. I am sensing that it was originally a one night stand or a summer fling. However, it was divinely orchestrated to be that way. I am seeing those Pinterest drawings of soulmates in my third eye. This person is someone you’re aligned with on a soul level; this is karmic. However, karmic ≠ codependent. Make sure that you have your own life outside of this person. This person does have all eyes on you and vice versa. I can tell that the passion is mutual. If you are planning to go on a vacation with this person soon, expect a promotion in your relationship to happen. This promotion could be an engagement/wedding, moving in together, meeting the family, etc. I see you two eating slices of fruit on the beach, feeding one another while smiling and giggling amongst each other. This is a lovely connection thus far. I also see you being spoiled with gifts of your choice. This person is a gift giver for sure, along with wanting to spend quality time with you! However, this is just the beginning. Ground yourself in the present moment. Savor and soak up every waking day with this person.

extras: montgomery, alabama. jason/justin. sam. cartier glasses. fake ID. retribution. academy. pork. glamorous. marjorie. fake gym rat. attracted to pheromones. high achiever. monie/monet. kansas.

Pile Four: This is for a few of you, but some of you could have known someone that was recently released from jail/mental health facility/nursing home. You could be their caregiver/keeper. Others of you have family members/a partner that are financially dependent on you. I know that you feel burdened by this. Both the financial burden and the mental burden can be frustrating. I do see your situation improving. Someone is lightening the load. I feel like you are going to receive extra support, specifically from another woman. She is going to offer help & it will no longer be a job carried by one person. Whoever this is, they have been in your position before so you don’t have to worry about being pitied or feeling lesser than her. Another thing is that you should definitely get started on your laundry. I feel like you are going through a bout of depression right now. Start off with the small tasks first then do the big things. You need to take your time & be patient with yourself.

extras: air jordan’s. new microwave. corn on the cob. jogging. morph. telling stories. future focused. gold rings. coffee. marlboro. notre dame. golden shepard.

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jujutsubaby · 4 months

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🩷 sex drive 🩷

☆ pairing: toji fushiguro x afab!reader ☆ summary: you go to a valentine's day blood drive at work. maybe it's just that you've been single for too long, but isn't the volunteer drawing your blood kinda...? well, let's just say you wouldn't mind exchanging a few other bodily fluids with him, too. ☆ tags: modern au, workplace au ☆ warnings: 18+!! MINORS DNI!! dirty talk, oral sex (f!recieving), slight exhibitionism, daddy kink ☆ a/n: happy valentine's day (again)!! another quick little treat for u all hehe...inspired by my real life experience of going to a valentine's day blood drive (except for the fun parts ofc lmao).

you knew you should have made up an excuse and stayed home today. you hate to be a cliche bitter ass single woman who's not getting any younger on valentine's day, but it's hard not to play to type when the whole office is decorated in cutesy pinks and reds. it definitely doesn't help that your boss, suguru, keeps getting visits every 15 minutes from his boyfriend satoru.

"ugh, what's with the pda?" you grumble at what feels like satoru's 30th visit to suguru's open cubicle. "haven't you two been together for, like, a thousand years already?" your coworker utahime helpfully makes gagging noises to emphasize your point.

"hey now, y/n, you KNOW that i'm the head of marketing and suguru's the head of sales! i can't help it if he and i have lots of important things to discuss," satoru protests with puppy dog eyes.

"i didn't realize important marketing meetings involve sitting on coworkers' laps now," utahime mumbles, and the pair of you giggle conspiratorially.

however, as the day goes on and utahime keeps receiving increasingly elaborate flower arrangements delivered to her from her doctor girlfriend shoko, you find yourself feeling more glum than ever. you decide to go out for a stroll, hoping the cold february air will slap some sense into you.

unfortunately, not even five minutes after you set out, droplets of threatening rain turn into a torrential downpour. you curse; in your mopey mood this morning, you totally forgot to check the forecast!

you really don't want to go back into the lovefest of your office right now, so you start looking desperately around for a rescue — an underhang to stand under, anything.

that's when you see a bright red sign advertising a blood drive for valentine's day being held at your neighboring building. that could be an interesting idea. at least this way, you can tell yourself you did a good deed on valentine's day instead of just complaining the whole time. even more appealingly, you see that it'll take about an hour, which is one less hour you'll have to spend around satoru's soppy nicknames for suguru. after shooting a quick text to your team's group chat informing them of your last minute appointment, you decide to brave the rain and head over, hoping there's an opening for a walk-in.

you enter the room where the blood drive is taking place, praying you don't look too much like a drowned rat. your self-consciousness melts away and you smile brightly when you see a familiar face.

"shoko! you're volunteering here today?"

"oh, hey y/n," your quiet friend replies, giving you a small smile back. "yeah, utahime and i have a date nearby this evening, so i thought i might as well sign up. what time was your appointment for?"

"well, uh, i didn't exactly make an appointment..." you say awkwardly. "are walk-ins ok?"

"no problem, we got a lot of no-shows today anyway," shoko replies with a subtle roll of her eyes. she then hands you a clipboard and a pen. "just fill this out, and i'll get you screened and set up and everything."

you gratefully take the clipboard and head into the tiny compartment curtained off at the side of the room, presumably to give donors some privacy as they get screened. you fill out the form (trying not to think of your stupid ex boyfriend when you encounter the questions about your sex life), and once you're done, you poke your head back outside of the compartment.

"i'm ready now, shoko," you call. when your friend doesn't answer, you crane your neck around to the desk where she had been sitting. "shoko?"

"she just went on break," a husky, masculine voice replies from behind you. "i'll be taking over." you look back and are immediately floored by what just has to be the finest specimen of the male form you've ever seen, clad in obscenely tight scrubs that emphasize every bulging muscle. focus!!

"oh thanks doctor...um...fushiguro," you read from his nametag. he's so tall that it happens to be at your eye level, giving you quite a nice eyeful of his firm, muscular chest. what business did men have being this tall, anyway?!

"just call me toji," he says casually, grinning down at you. he takes the clipboard from your outstretched hands and jerks his head back towards the compartment you had been waiting in. "let's head back there so we have more...privacy." maybe it's just your imagination, but you could have sworn he smirked when he said that. you take deep breaths to suppress the unholy thoughts you're having, and you follow him back into the side room.

when you push the curtain aside and go in after him, you see he's already settled into one of the two chairs crammed into the tight space that he's clearly a little too large for. as you daintily resume your position in your own chair, he shifts and splays his long legs out, brushing your thigh with his knee. you inhale sharply.

he clears his throat and pulls out a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket before reading your questionnaire. he nods at your answers (although you can't help but turn beet red as his eyes scan over the section about when you last had a new sex partner).

"looks fine to me. let's take your blood pressure now...y/n" he says, positively purring when he sounds out your name. "beautiful name for a beautiful girl," he says with a roguish wink, making you turn even redder than you ever knew was possible. was he making you uncomfortable on purpose?!

"mind taking your top off?" he asks, rummaging around in the drawer in front of him.

"i'm sorry?!" you choke out. that was a freebie! happy fucking valentine's day to you!

"oh, sorry, i meant so i can put the bp monitor around your arm. i don't know if you can roll your sleeves up in that blouse," he says, looking up from the drawer. you notice his eyes on your breasts, and you realize that you of course had worn your white button down over your lacy black camisole on the day mother nature decided to get you soaking wet. you must look like such a hussy!

you quickly unbutton your blouse and show him your arm to wrap the thick velcro band around, trying hard to avoid eye contact. it doesn't matter, though; you can feel his eyes boring into you like lasers. why does he have to be so hot?! you hope being in his presence won't throw off your blood pressure reading...you can feel your pulse going a little haywire.

As he tightens the band and starts the measurement, toji starts making small talk.

"so, you doing anything for valentine's day?"

ugh. anything but this topic.

"no," you reply simply, hoping not to broker further discussion.

he presses on, not taking your cue (or if he did, he ignored it.)

"no? what, your partner doesn't celebrate?"

toji reads out your bp measurement to you, but you don't even pay attention to it as you notice his hand brushing the side of your breast as he unwraps the bp monitor's band from your exposed arm. you gulp as you realize only the thin satiny layer of your cami is keeping his hands from touching your tits.

"uh..ah.." you say, hoping he doesn't notice the effect his one brief physical touch had on you, "n-no...my ex-boyfriend and i broke up a few months ago already." you don't mention how you saw him in your bed on your birthday in the arms of another person.

toji looks up at you from darkly hooded eyes.

"his loss...i know i'd treasure valentine's day with a pretty little thing like you."

just like that, toji snaps back into professional mode again, leaving you reeling once more from his flirtatious behavior. he was way too handsome to be acting like this on a dime! a girl like you could get ideas...

"i'm going to do a thumbprick now to get a quick reading on your blood. is that ok with you?"

you nod, and he grins at you.

"that's my girl," he hums in a low voice.

then, before you're even able to process what's happening, he takes your hand and engulfs it in his own. he then begins rubbing your hand back and forth, and you feel a small frisson of pleasure at the sensation of his callouses against your small, soft fingers.

"noticed your skin was a little cold, so i thought i'd warm your hand up before taking the sample," he explained, but you're hardly able to even listen to him as you enjoy the blissful sensation of his hands rubbing yours. his fingers were so long and thick, and so dextrous... how would those fingers feel somewhere else...no! stop! what are you thinking?! you've definitely been single for too long.

"all right, y/n," toji murmurs gently. "you're just going to feel a small prick...sorry about that..." he takes the sample and puts it into a machine for processing. he then reaches back into the drawer and withdraws a digital thermometer.

"while we're waiting for that to finish, let's take your temperature." you nod and extend your hands to take the thermometer from him, but he ignores you and instead roughly takes your chin in one of his huge, warm hands, tilting your head up towards his chest.

"open up for me now, y/n" he purrs, your name sounding like the sweetest and most beautiful sound you've ever heard when it's coming from his mouth; you can't help but comply. he gently inserts the thermometer under your tongue, and you note his eyes lingering on your lips for much longer than they have to. embarrassingly, you notice heat pooling between your legs, and tension twisting by your belly button. you could get used to this...all too soon, though, the thermometer beeps, and he takes it out. toji clicks his tongue as he reads the small display.

"99 degrees even," he reads out. "now that's a surprise."

"what? why's that?" you ask, confused. how could a body temperature be surprising?

"well, our cutoff is 99.5, and i was sure you'd be way too hot," he says with a laugh and another wink. you giggle back demurely; you can't help but act all girlish and coquettish with someone like him. you've never seen a man in real life wink so much, but you find you don't mind. it suits him.

"all right, y/n, let's go get some blood drawn!" he says enthusiastically, rising from his chair. you follow suit. he reaches around you (did his arm just brush your breasts again?) and opens the curtain for you. "after you, princess."

you used to hate when your ex called you "princess"...but when toji called you that, it sounded like the doors to the heavens opened and angels were singing. you'll definitely be thinking about that for awhile. probably before bedtime, and probably while touching yourself. you sigh and exit the small room before hopping up onto one of the cots that were brought to the building for the blood drive.

toji pops a small stress ball into your hand. "now, make a fist for me," he says, using his fingers to close yours, "and start squeezing that." he squeezes his fist around yours. it wasn't so confusing of an instruction that you needed a demonstration, and you're beginning to suspect that toji's making excuses to keep touching you. not that you mind, exactly.

you keep squeezing, and he examines the tender inside of your elbow. "that's a gorgeous vein you've got there, princess. this'll be easy for me," he murmurs seductively, and you blush. you've never been complimented on a vein, of all things, before.

soon, toji pierces your arm (pursing his lips sympathetically as you emit a sharp gasp, which of course makes you stare at his lips), and your blood is pumping merrily into a bag. you decide to make conversation with him, this time.

"how about you, toji? i'm sure someone like you has big plans for valentine's day, right?" you ask, raising your eyebrows suggestively.

"oh, yeah," he chuckles. "if you count getting high and watching magnolia for the millionth time big plans. i don't really go for that stuff," he says.

"i love paul thomas anderson," you say huskily, trying to flutter your eyelashes at him. it's been a long time since you've flirted, and you're probably embarrassing yourself. "you know what the perfect film of his for today would be, though?"

"what's that, princess?"

you smirk. "there will be blood."

toji lets out a huge laugh in spite of himself, and you smile proudly. flirtation successful!

soon, your blood has filled the small bag, and toji removes the needle, pressing gauze to the wound. the feel of his hands pressing into your arm is one of the most blissful things you've felt all week. he asks you to continue maintaining the pressure, and you feel like whining that it won't feel as nice as when he does it before remembering where you are and complying. you watch as he picks up your sample and sorts it in with the others; you feel a bit shy, seeing him manhandle your little blood bag like that. it feels so intimate.... you gulp as you imagine him manhandling you like that.

"all right, y/n, now you just need to rest for twenty minutes, and you'll be good to go." you start climbing out from the cot, feeling a little disappointed that your short, exciting interaction with toji is coming to an end. oh well. some excitement is better than none.

"we have some cookies for the donors in the seating area," he continues. "lucky you...i'd love a little taste of something sweet right about now..."

ok, it definitely wasn't your imagination — he positively growled that last sentence, and he was eyeing you. as you get up, you notice you're a little shaky on your feet; you realize that you actually hadn't eaten lunch before coming, since you'd been in such a rush to get away. you list and sway dangerously to one side, but a pair of strong arms braces you. you let your head fall back onto a perfectly firm, taut chest.

"careful, there, sweetheart" toji whispers in your ear, his breath tickling your sensitive skin as he lifts you up. you try not to think too much about how your back is pressed into him right now. "i think i'd better keep an eye on you." he walks you over to the front of the room, bracing your back against himself the whole way over. he leads you to the front of the room, where there are folding chairs and a card table with a small platter of supermarket cookies as promised. as shoko had alluded earlier, the blood drive was not busy at all. in fact, it was completely empty currently; just you and toji, alone in this room... you feel yourself getting faint again, but not for the same reason.

"y'know, princess..." toji says, sitting again with his legs splayed out over the chair across from you as you nibble a chocolate chip cookie. "my shift's ending right about...when your observation period ends."

you tilt your head inquisitively at him, hoping you knew why he was saying this. he leans forward, the flimsy plastic chair creaking under the weight of his solid muscle. what you'd let that muscle do to you...

"i don't think that i, as a medical professional, can let you go back to work today..." he continues. "i think you'd better go home after this." then, he smiles deviously. "and i think i'd better take you back, just to give you a...full examination."

it takes all of your restraint not to fling the rest of the cookie down and jump his bones right then and there. instead, you reply,

"i think i'd appreciate the house call." you do your best to make your voice ooze with suggestion so he knows you're picking up what he's putting down.

after what feels like the slowest fifteen minutes of your life, it's finally time to leave. just as toji's shift is about to end, shoko returns from her break, and you take the opportunity to ask her to have utahime bring your things back home from the office for you. since they're your neighbors, you can pick them up later tonight. or perhaps, tomorrow morning...just in case tonight gets a little too busy.

"something came up," you explain to her breathlessly, but you know shoko notices toji's hand creeping up the small of your back.

"have fun," shoko says to the both of you, only slightly judgmental but mostly encouraging.

since you took the bus to work that morning and toji refuses to wait a moment longer than he has to to commence your "examination," he insists on driving you back in his car. you both practically sprint through the parking lot, and he breaks at least three traffic laws zooming back to your apartment in the rain as you yell directions. for a doctor, he sure is awfully reckless.

finally, finally, after an agonizingly long wait, you're at your building. you're about to climb out of the car, but toji is way ahead of you, opening the door for you. you are about to climb out and jokingly thank him for his chivalry when he unceremoniously scoops you out of your seat and swings you over his shoulder. you shriek with laughter.

"toji! put me down!"

you're also all too aware that you're wearing a pretty short skirt that day.

"sorry, princess," he says smoothly. "it's protocol. i can't have you walking back in just in case you pass out, or something."

you're about to ask if he's even been to medical school when he shoves your key into your apartment door, slams it open, and, equally roughly, slams your back against the wall. the breath is shoved out of your lungs as he immediately captures your mouth with his, swallowing any potential protest you might have had (which you didn't, you absolutely didn't. not even close.). he carries your entire weight easily as he shuts the door behind him with his foot; you're hardly paying attention, though, as you're too busy widening your mouth and entangling your tongue with his. you greedily bite down on his lip, and he growls in response.

"let's get you to the examination table," he groans. you wrap your legs around his narrow waist, and he carries you haphazardly to your dining table, crashing into and knocking over furniture along the way. carrying you with one arm, he carelessly clears the table with his other before plopping you onto the tabletop. he kneels before your legs and tears off your tights in one swift motion.

"i hope you're planning to help clean up—" you start, but your breath hitches in your throat as he begins kissing up your ankle, then your calf...then your thigh...he gets slower and slower as he gets closer to where you most want him to go. you try to shift forward on the table to bring your throbbing center closer to him, but he holds you firmly in place with two powerful hands clamped on your hips.

"patience, princess..."

you close your eyes and start taking deep breaths, but the moment is disrupted by an annoying loud vibration against the wooden tabletop.

"who the fuck is 'ryomen sukuna?'" toji scoffs, "and why do you have a heart next to his name? you been lyin' to me, princess? have you been naughty?"

"no," you breathe, and it comes out as a whine. "no, daddy, i've been a good girl, promise. please..."

"'please' what, princess? help daddy out here," he purrs with a wicked grin. just then, your stupid phone vibrates again, and you're about to pick it up and throw it out the window when toji wrests it from your grip.

"your idiot ex, i'm guessing?" he asks. all you can do is nod, the words robbed from you.

"well, my professional recommendation is...for you to tell him to fuck off."

"i will, toji, i promise," you pant. "please, just ignore him, i promise, he's nothing to me."

"you're not listening to me, princess..." toji says in a low, dangerous voice. "i want you to tell him to fuck off. right. now." he slides the answer button on your phone and hands it to you before you can protest.

"h-hello?" you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "sukuna?"

"heyyyy, y/n....missed hearing your voice, boo," sukuna coos, clearly inebriated. you scoff in disgust; it's only four in the afternoon. sukuna was such a mess.

"what do you want, sukuna? i thought i w-was..." you start out assertively, but your resolve is breaking as a practiced tongue once again starts swirling its way up your legs, alternating between your left and right thighs. you clench your toes and grit your teeth before continuing.

"i was ... clear...that ... that we're o-over," you say, the last word coming out as a moan as you feel a set of teeth pulling off your panties ever so gently.

"baby, i told you!" sukuna whines. "uraume's nothin' to me, babe! they're just a friend! you're my one and only, baby!"

even in the midst of the sensory overload occurring in your bottom half, you still roll your eyes. yeah, "just friends" made out in bed naked all the time, right?

"i want you to...to...s-stop.." you pant, as sukuna finally picks up on your strange manner of speech.

"hold on, y/n, is someone there with you?" he snarls, his famous temper rising to the forefront. "you whoring it up with another guy already?"

at that, toji grabs the phone from you and growls into it, "seems like she finally decided she needs a real man, not some cheatin' asshole who can't appreciate her properly!"

the moment he finishes talking, toji leans back into your thighs and finally plunders you with his tongue, raising the phone to your mouth in time for you to moan sinfully into it as sukuna is arguing back. toji doesn't even bother hanging up as he throws the phone across the room.

toji grips your thighs tightly enough to leave bruises as he feasts on you, and you wrap your legs around him, tangle your hands in his short hair, and squirm in delight. it doesn't take you very long to come undone under his practiced mouth.

he rises back to his feet, licking his lips.

"finally got to satisfy my sweet tooth today," he says mischievously. you grab the v-neck of his shirt and tug him closer to you aggressively.

"take me to bed. it's your turn next," you declare authoritatively. then, you kiss him fiercely, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue.

"your wish is my command, princess," he replies with a dark chuckle, before lifting you, bridal style, to your bedroom.

this was shaping up to be a great valentine's day after all.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro x you #jjk modern au #toji fushiguro x reader

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treason-and-plot · 27 days

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At the other end of the table Helene gives a gentle laugh and spears a glistening piece of steak with her fork. Tom takes a long drink from his beer glass, as if toasting his own wit. Connor sets his fork down on his plate. Saffron tries to make eye contact with him but he is staring at the wooden salt and pepper shakers, his jaw clenched.

“That's not true at all,” Saffron says to Tom. "Why would you even say that?"

“Saff, it's okay," says Connor. “Dad just thinks he's being funny. Don't worry about it."

“All I'm trying to say is that Helene and I are exceedingly grateful to you for all you've done for Connor this term," says Tom. He bestows his shark-like smile upon her once again, but she doesn't smile back. “I meant academically, but I’m sure you’ve helped him in myriad other ways as well. We’ve noticed a lot of positive changes, haven’t we Helene?"

“Oh, definitely,” says Helene.

“What are you talking about? You wouldn't notice if I grew two heads,” says Connor.

“Watch the attitude, son,” says Tom. His tone is pleasant, and sends a small shiver down Saffron's spine.

“I'm glad to hear that you think I'm a positive influence, because I was paranoid you'd think I was a bad influence after I made Connor skip school with me the other day," says Saffron. Tom looks at her blankly, his eyebrows raised.

“I didn’t hear anything about this,” says Tom. “Did you, Hel?”

“I think I may have received a voicemail or an email from the school, now that you mention it,” Helene says. “I probably just assumed it was a message asking me to donate to the second-hand uniform sale or something.”

“Wow," says Saffron. “My mother went off her head.”

“Saffron’s mother is a police officer,” Helene tells Tom, as if this is the sole explanation for her reaction.

“Ah,” says Tom. “And what does your father do, Saffron?”

“Here we go,” mutters Connor.

“He operates a chain of childcare centres,” says Saffron.

“Really,” says Helene. “What's the name of his business?”

“Little Sprouts,” says Saffron. Both Helene and Tom make noises signifying their recognition and approval.

“Oh, I’ve heard they’re doing very well!” Helene says. “Didn’t he just open several more centres?”

“Yeah, he’s got five now,” says Saffron.

“Does he use an accountancy firm?” says Tom. Connor mutters something under his breath.

“I think Mireille- his girlfriend- does all the accounting,” says Saffron.

“There’s a wise saying that I like to tell my clients, Saffron,” says Tom. “And that saying is: 'It’s not the money that matters, it’s how you use it that determines its true value'.”

He pauses for effect.

“Woah. Interesting,” Saffron deadpans while Connor stifles a loud yawn. Helene narrows her eyes at him.

“Now, I’m sure your Dad’s girlfriend is more than competent in the area of bookkeeping and handling the payroll and the rest of the basics, but how up to date is she with the latest tax laws?” says Tom. “Does she know how to forecast cash flow? Does she realise the importance of accurate record keeping? Does she have access to the most up-to-date accounting software, which will enable she and your father to maximise business efficiency and productivity?”

"I have no idea," says Saffron sweetly. "But I'm guessing you do, right?"

#Saffron #Connor #helene #Tom Brownlee #5 years later #back to Bridgeport #sims 3 #ts3 #sims 3 story

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33max · 4 months

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Will we be seeing Jimmy the lion in TD? He's so precious 🥺🥺❤️

I was going to write this as an actual one shot, because I have so many thoughts on this - but I’m really short on time recently and I think it’s time to share! ♥️

One evening, when Max and Daniel are laying in bed together, Max’s head on Daniel’s chest and Daniel’s fingers tracing Max’s spine, Max tells Daniel that he wants to design and sell a plushie as part of his merchandise collection.

“It will of course be nice for the children,” Max says, words chosen very carefully.

“Definitely,” Daniel says, pressing a kiss to the top of Max’s head. He can sense Max has more to say, and so he’ll give him time to speak.

“And maybe,” Max says quietly, “Maybe someone like me would like it too.”

Daniel feels so emotional about it, that Max wants to do this, not just for the kids that are fans of him, but for people like him. Daniel does everything he can to stay still, keep gently stroking Max’s back, provide that calmness that Max needs - but really he wants to run and jump into the Monaco harbour in delight.

The team at Verstappen.com love the idea. They asks Max if he’s planning to gift them to his nephews, his unborn niece, all the kids he’s godfather too… He probably will do that, but this isn’t for them. It’s something Max is doing for himself.

It takes Max a few months to design the plushie. It was always going to be a lion, but he very carefully considered where to incorporate his logo. What colour he wanted the paws to be. If he should be wearing a race suit. Or just a tshirt.

Then he picked the name.

He wrote the accompanying information to go on Jimmy’s tag himself.

And then eventually, the day comes. Jimmy is on sale.

Max sits nervously on his laptop, looking through Twitter as fans discover Jimmy, as he starts to sell. He’s still sitting there hours later when he gets an email, the sales performance of Jimmy the lion within the first few hours of being live.

His lion is forecast to sell well. Really well.

Max looks up at Daniel, ears teary and a little unfocused, he’s so happy.

“Baby, I’m so proud of you.” Daniel tells him. And then “Do you want me to grab your blanket, baby?”

#answered #anonymous #turkey dinosaurs au

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contemplatingoutlander · 4 months

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Falling inflation, rising growth give U.S. the world’s best recovery

The European economy, hobbled by unfamiliar weakness in Germany, is barely growing. China is struggling to recapture its sizzle. And Japan continues to disappoint. But in the United States, it’s a different story. Here, despite lingering consumer angst over inflation, the surprisingly strong economy is outperforming all of its major trading partners. Since 2020, the United States has powered through a once-in-a-century pandemic, the highest inflation in 40 years and fallout from two foreign wars. Now, after posting faster annual growth last year than in 2022, the U.S. economy is quashing fears of a new recession while offering lessons for future crisis-fighting. “The U.S. has really come out of this into a place of strength and is moving forward like covid never happened,” said Claudia Sahm, a former Federal Reserve economist who now runs an eponymous consulting firm. “We earned this; it wasn’t just a fluke.” On Friday, President Biden hailed fresh government data showing that annual inflation over the second half of 2023 fell back to the Federal Reserve’s 2 percent target. Coupled with Thursday’s news that the economy grew by 3.1 percent over the past 12 months, the Commerce Department report showed that the United States appears to have achieved an economic soft landing. The post-pandemic recovery challenged long-standing economic beliefs, such as the idea of an inverse relationship between unemployment and inflation. (As one rose, the other was expected to fall.) Expressed in what economists call the Phillips curve, this nostrum proved nearly useless in explaining the economy’s recent behavior. [...] “Putting money in people’s hands vs. moving around interest rates, which is monetary policy, fiscal policy is going to be stronger,” Sahm said. “We cannot go into the next crisis being, like, ‘Oh, the Fed’s got this.’” Consumer spending is driving the economy: Real consumption rose by 0.5 percent in December, its fastest pace since last January. Pending home sales jumped, too. Following the flurry of good news, JPMorgan Chase economists said they raised their first-quarter growth forecast.

Biden deserves credit for turning the economy around. This was a front page headline article on the WaPo website for a short time on Sunday Jan. 28th. I didn't see anything about this on The New York Times front page website. The mainstream media should do a better job of conveying this good news about the economy. Certainly, the right-wing media won't do so.

#us economy is booming #world economy #biden administration #inflation is coming down #david j lynch #the washington post

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spotlightlowlife · 5 months

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Helluva Boss has responsibility issues - Ozzie, Bee and Mammon edition

These characters have a job which is to govern over and make business out of a designated part of the psyche, one of the seven deadly sins, but it goes further than a job, they're world leaders and their role is their purpose.

What do they do day in day out?

They have fun.

If they're there to be liked that is.

Bee is a great rep for gluttony

Her design is nice, she looks fun, youthful and vibrant and I appreciate that she's not large or lazy. Many people agree, she represents the positive aspects of gluttony in having fun and indulging yourself with the company of others, eat drink and be merry, something she gains from.

Unfortunately it seems that in order to be liked, she had to be diluted.

Bee, prince of gluttony, got humbled by losing a drinking contest to Blitzø who is half her size and a tiny fraction of her true size. Bee then disassociated herself from overindulgence by seeing that Blitzø was going overboard early and wanting that issues dealt with at a distance not by her.

She claims he's ruining the vibe but does this cut off her supply? Ruin her stock? Does it snap people out of their enjoyment? Who knows, she got pushed as 'nice' so her observation so far is probably from a caring place, not a business stance.

Ozzie is a good representative for lust

Sex positivity is good. Like eople should be able to indulge enjoy, as should multiple people, they should all be having a good time. Shaming a lovey lovey couple for lowering the tone at his lust themed club was something he had the right to, even though love and lust can easily go hand in hand and he clearly caters to anyone interested in kink, it was reasonable (and well written humor) to want them to take that outside.

Where they cutting off his lust supply?

Where they potentially off putting for others?

Who knows, but Ozzie's push of anti-love whilst clearly being in love, served as an excuse to loveably humble him.

He could had he been business minded and had both separately, but it seems that business = bad, which leads on to...

Mammon is an excellent representative of greed

Business and greed got merged into one, there are definitely 'positive' aspects to business and therefore greed. Such as professional distance, going where the money is, trying out different leadership strategies moving with the times and welcoming the new.

This character was able to reveal little of his personal views, but enough to know that he disproved of certain things but would still put in the work in their direction, such as beauty pageants and sxxdolls, however he was able to adapt them to suit himself and everyone, a clown pageant and a multipurpose dolls. It was all about supply and demand for profit.

He set up the pageant for anyone to enter, nobody in mind, he was rather transparent in what the plan was too. Knowing what we know of how profit driven he is, his discouragement of female entering could easily have been more than an excuse to add the Viv credit joke based on sales forecast, yet it was a remark he went on to take back. Through the pageant he wasn't opposed to Fizz losing and fresh meat taking over. He was however opposed to Fizz not putting in the work.

It's debatable that he lacks self awareness because we have already established that this character sets person feelings aside and just wants business to run, furthermore, for all we know Fizz may be bringing hesitation for the first time this year. It makes sense why he's willing to let Fizz voice hatred for him aslong as he keeps up being milked until dry.

A lot like many employers in hospitality (a reminder that Fizz was also fed up in this area) and entertainment.

Mammon stepped into the ever triggering parent role and numberours of them, referring to the future pageant winner as 'stepkid', Fizz as a 'son' and 'grand baby', firmly asserting himself as a leader who commands respect which isn't entirely bad, all whilst behaving like a strict stage parent from the very beauty pageants he criticizes, and why? Because it's effective maybe? Like it or not we saw his shows go on to be a massive success.

In the real world we have things widely and rightfully condemned like low grade junk food and cheap clothes, only at the same time as some fat cat getting richer pushing poor quality, these goods are being made accessible to those with little who can't afford better. A greedy business person person who wants more customers likely doesn't care that they are doing great harm or help.

Looloo land was a good example of corporate greed big business that people benefit from, like it or not. This place was easily accessible and the workforce were anyone.

Mammon protected his rip off inspired work with a contract so tight that the leader of hell can't do anything about it.

A complex contract is something we would see again with fellow villain and successful gangster businessman Crimson.

Blitzø on the other hand is not failing because he's their opposite which is 'good', he is failing because he is a very proud, arrogant individual who wants his idea to just work, there's little wiggle room. It was Moxxie who would learn in the episode where he was allowed to lead his own mission that a 'my way or the highway' attitude can bring more issues than solution.

Back to Moxxie. When his very greedy and sinister dad was ready to use him for a business deal that would involve an arranged marriage, he tried superficially winning Moxxie over by rigging the house with dildos, assuming he must enjoy stuff like that.

This guy objectified and forced the hand of his own adult child with zero interest and regard.

Yet did we have to see Mammon being made to rebuke these behaviours and let us know there's limitations to his greed? No, he didn't need to tone down.

Only 'greed' is held to accountability

The higher ups have to be humbled in order to be liked, the only ways seems to be to have a place themselves alongside and have sexual relationship with those at the very bottom of society

and not be responsible for the negative aspects of what they govern over are.

All the fun and non of the responsibility

As covered, Bee and Ozzie who we had to learn are believers in knowing your limits and consent, are nothing to with any trouble associate with them that follow,

ws. so whilst Crimson provided excellent groundwork for Mammon with his greed and making a loved imp sad, there have been two missed opportunities to passively pad out Ozzie and Bee.

Verosika the sucubus SA Moxxie with her gang, they shapeshifted into cute humans to come to earth and host a sucubus hosted beach party, to corrupt a bunch of youths. Verosika would also be revealed to be an addict, along with Barbiewire. Verosika would travel to earth with beeljuice which caused a massive scene.

Barbie shape shifted into a human, travelled with Ozzie's crystals (something Stolas as high up as he is had to request) and seduced a teenager into helping her push drugs.

But it's not Ozzie nor Bee's issues, they don't associate with the negative aspects of what they rule over.

Two side characters are pushing frowned upon over indulgence and degeneracy amungst kids on earth.

In a story where the parent story tells us that there's a hell overpopulation problem.

An issue that is dealt with via genocide and the mess left behind in the form of devine weapon parts, can slay the higher ups!

But that's not Ozzie nor Bee's issues?

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss asmodeus #helluva boss beelzebub #helluva boss mammon #hazbin hotel critical #long post #character analysis

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darlingillustrations · 4 months

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I feel like I should be panicking more. My rent is due in one week, my landlord isn't friendly, and I have no one to ask for help. And yet? I have an eerie sense of calm about it.

I know the calm that happens when you are not actually calm but panicking and your body is helping you survive. This isn't that kind of fake calm. I am sleeping at night. I'm not snaping at my kids. I am *at peace.*

(Read more for musings about the economy, my spiritual mindset in the midst of it all, and some Mary Oliver poetry.)

Five years ago? I would be panicking and staying up late working long hours and burning myself out. But now? These days I'm working full days, then stepping back and cooking meals or working on projects for my kids. It feels more stable this time. I feel like I've matured.

I got a report in my email yesterday which showed that retail sales in January plunged 0.8% from December, far worse than the consensus forecast for a decline of just 0.2%, and the largest monthly loss since March 2023. On the one hand, it made me feel better that it's not just me. On the other hand, it sucks that lots of other people are struggling, as well.

Still, I make the time to meditate every morning. Still, I pull out my poetry books and take my life advice from Mary Oliver. In the poem One or Two Things she wrote:

One or two things are all you need to travel over the blue pond, over the deep roughage of trees and through the stiff flowers of lightning--some deep memory of pleasure, some cutting knowledge of pain.

You don't need to have all the answers. You just need to put one step in front of the other.

Last year when I launched my wholesale business, I drummed up over 1000 leads. I'd pick a city and use google maps or yelp to search for gift shops, stationary stores, coffee shops... anywhere that I thought might want my work... and I took the time to write a personal note to each and every one of these businesses. This month I decided to check back in with them again, and so many of the businesses are now closed or their email addresses no longer work.

Having exhausted these leads, I sat at my computer yesterday with the knowledge that I needed to wait on people to get back to me, that the wholesale leads were out of my hands. And that I still did not have money to pay my landlord. Not once did I fear I would join the list of closed businesses. I did not despair.

Instead, I turned to my first joy. I went back to the sales history on my website and found my very first customers from back in 2016 when I launched my web shop. I emailed them, each of those first customers, sending personal emails. I did not ask them to buy anything. That wasn't what I needed. I asked how they were, what they have been up to, where their lives have taken them.

I was searching for that deep memory of pleasure, that cutting knowledge of pain. One or two things is all we need, after all.

And I got one email back.

This woman was the first person to ever buy an art print in my online shop--a honeybee boy painting--and it is still hanging in her stepson's room, nearly 8 years later. She shared pictures of her new baby, and I shared the pictures with my kids. This woman had sent me many emails over the years, asking for life advice or encouraging me on a hard day. She shared that she didn't realize her emails had made such an impact on me.

Funny how none of us truly sees how impactful we are to those around us. Funny how life keeps going on, whether we worry about it or not.

In One or Two Things, Mary Oliver also wrote:

For years and years I struggled just to love my life. And then the butterfly rose, weightless, in the wind. "Don't love your life too much," it said, and vanished into the world.

I want my character to be defined not by what I do when things are easy but by how I carry myself when things are hard. And I do believe things happen for a reason. Maybe the line between delusion and faith is very thin, but the universe has shown me time and again that it's had my back. I've been in worse scrapes and still came out ok.

If you've read this far and you want to help me get through the next week, you can buy something from my shop or support me on Patreon.

And if you've read this far but you are in a similar boat, don't fret. We will find our way through the fires. one. step. at. a. time.

#mary oliver #capitalism #queer artist #support queer artists #patreon artist #darling illustrations #erin speaks

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elisela · 6 months

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since there's no place to go stiles x derek, established relationship, fluff for @missanniewhimsy <3

“Snow in the forecast,” Stiles says, face tilted down towards his phone screen.

Derek shifts a half step back, just enough that their bodies brush as Stiles squeezes by him, and stays silent. It’s the third time in as many weeks that he’s made the announcement; Derek doesn’t have the heart to tell him that they’re probably still several weeks out from the first real snow of the season. He hums noncommittally instead, tilts his head a little when Stiles pauses and drops a feather-light kiss on the back of his neck before moving on to the refrigerator.

“Supposed to drop into the 20’s,” he adds, and his voice raises unnecessarily when he moves out of Derek’s sight. “Should we get winter tires? We should, right?”

“I’ll pick them up this weekend,” Derek says, because he’s clearly not getting out of this conversation. “Did you put together the emergency kits for the cars?”

There’s a weighty pause. “Uh … yeah, yeah,” Stiles says; Derek rolls his eyes as he pulls the last potato closer and starts dicing it. “I’m just gonna—go check the oil. I think—yeah.”

He waits until Stiles’ footsteps have sounded down the hallway and the garage door swings open to call out, “Don’t forget the gloves!” because they’ve stayed sitting on the front table since Derek dropped them there two weeks earlier. “The kit won’t do you much good if you get frostbite.”

—

Derek ignores the thump and slight sway of the cart as it knocks gently into his hip. He’s got the two air fryers he’s considering on the shelf in front of him, eyeing the differences between the two, and Stiles had gotten bored and wandered off five minutes earlier and had reappeared sporadically to dump things in the cart and leave again.

It suits him just fine; maybe they’ll be ready to go by the time he makes a choice.

There’s a louder thump a moment later, followed by Stiles’ muttered curse, but what makes Derek turn around is the clatter of plastic hitting the ground.

Two neon green sleds are on the ground. The groceries in the cart are hidden by a pile of snow pants and thick packages of wool socks, a winter hat with fuzzy reindeer antlers sitting on top.

Derek raises an eyebrow.

“We’ll need sleds when it snows,” Stiles says as he bends down to retrieve them. “I told you the whole reason I wanted the house was for the hill.”

“And the hat?”

“On sale,” Stiles says cheerfully, without an ounce of shame as he snatches it from the cart and jams it on his head, nearly covering his eyes. “It looks great on me.”

Derek shakes his head and turns back to the air fryers. “Do you think we’ll need the dehydrate feature?”

“Just get that one,” Stiles says, pushing into Derek’s space and gesturing to the left. “It’ll look better on the counter.”

“It’s not going on the counter.”

Stiles sounds amused when he says, “Sure it’s not,” and Derek, deciding that’s the hill he’s going to die on, reaches for the one on the right.

—

He’s seven pages from the end of his book when the sound of Stiles stomping up the porch steps and dropping something heavy makes him pause and look up. Stiles’ footsteps head back towards the driveway, and Derek sets his book aside and stands up, back cracking while he stretches and makes his way towards the front hall.

There’s a case of water sitting just to the left of the door; Stiles is carrying another from the car. “Make yourself useful,” he calls, and Derek shakes his head and moves to do just that.

“Thanks, Boo,” Stiles says after he’s stacked both cases in the pantry, shoved into the corner. His arm slides around Derek’s waist, and Derek turns towards him and wraps him in a hug. “Aww, you missed me.”

“Thought you’d be back a few hours ago,” Derek says, letting him go. “Were you climbing?”

“Yeah, but then I went to the bookstore, lost track of time,” Stiles says; he grabs a box of cheese crackers from the shelf that Derek takes out of his hands and puts back—he’s had dinner in the crockpot all day and can serve it immediately, he doesn’t need Stiles filling up on snacks in the time it takes him to dish out into a bowl. “Rude. Anyway, did you check your email? I was looking into generators and there are some we can hook up to the propane tank so we wouldn’t need to keep gas around.”

Derek looks at the two cases of water he’d just carried in, then at the quickly growing collection of canned food that’s taking over the shelves. Power outages don’t worry him—the heating runs off propane, they’ve got a wood-burning fireplace for backup, and a collection of lanterns that rivals a sporting goods store—but Stiles is clearly trying to control what he can. “Sure, I’ll look at what you sent after dinner,” he says, putting his hand on the small of Stiles’ back and leading them out of the pantry. “How was work?”

—

It’s cold even to Derek’s standards, yet Stiles is standing in the middle of their backyard in short sleeves, head tilted back towards the sky, looking like the weather doesn’t bother him at all. Still, Derek takes a moment to pick up one of the blankets tossed across the back of the couch before he slides his feet into a pair of slippers and opens the back door, breath ghosting out in front of him as he crosses the threshold.

“My mom used to say we’d catch our deaths standing out in the cold like this,” he says as he gets closer, shaking the blanket out before wrapping it around his husband’s shoulders. “That’s probably more true for you.”

Stiles looks over and grins. “You gonna cluck at me like a mother hen when I tell you I signed us up for the polar plunge next weekend?”

Derek looks skyward and shakes his head. “I told you to stop signing me up for things.”

“I told you I’d stop when you started voluntarily leaving the house,” Stiles says, “yet your calendar remains depressingly empty.”

“I’m too busy responding to all the texts you send me while you’re supposed to be working to look anything up.” Stiles’ hip bumps into his, and he slides an arm around his waist to keep him in place. Derek opens his mouth to say something else, but Stiles is looking up again, a pensive look on his face, so he keeps quiet and stays where he is.

“Think it’ll snow soon?” Stiles asks, long past the time that the cold has covered Derek’s arms in goosebumps.

He looks up at the white sky and breathes in deep, the air cold and sweet in his lungs. “Yeah,” he says, “I think it will.”

—

There’s not much that Derek minds about growing older, except when a middle-of-the-night bathroom trip is unavoidable, and then he feels like he’s on the wrong side of forty. He makes it out of bed without waking Stiles—a feat, especially when their legs are tangled together and Derek’s laying half on top of him—and is in the process of shuffling back down the hallway when movement outside the window catches his eye.

Snow, falling fast in the light of the full moon. It’s already piling up in small drifts on the ledge of the window, and when his eyes adjust he can see that it blankets their backyard, the single strand of Christmas lights along their porch casting a glow all around.

He spends a moment telling himself that Stiles will be happy enough in the morning with it, that he won’t care and doesn’t have to know that Derek had known—then he lets out a soft sigh and turns back towards the kitchen, where he fills two mugs with water and puts them in the microwave before searching the living room tiredly for the slippers he knows Stiles had left out there before going to bed. He gets everything ready before he goes back into the bedroom—glancing out the window first just to make sure it hasn’t stopped—and puts his hand on Stiles’ cheek.

“Hey,” he says lowly, clearing his throat a bit when his voice comes out rough. Stiles turns his head and his lips brush Derek’s palm. “Hey,” he says again, “it’s snowing.”

Stiles takes in a stuttering breath, eyes cracking open. “Huh?”

“It’s snowing,” Derek repeats, keeping his voice quiet in case Stiles decides he’d rather keep sleeping. “Looks like it has been for a bit.”

“Snowing?” Stiles says; he sounds confused, and then his eyes blink open wider. “Wait, really snowing?”

“Really snowing,” Derek confirms, and holds out his hand when Stiles struggles to sit up. “I made tea, if you want to watch.”

Stiles is quiet as they walk down the hallway, but Derek can hear the small, surprised breath that he pulls in when they walk into the living room and the snow becomes visible in the large picture window. He starts towards the couch, but Stiles walks right past it and to the door, pulling it open and stepping outside in his bare feet.

Derek, sighing, scoops up the slippers and a throw blanket before following him out. “Put these on,” he says, letting them fall to the ground and pushing at Stiles gently until he sits down on the porch swing. “You’d complain bitterly in Beacon Hills if it dropped below fifty and now I can’t get you to stay inside.”

Stiles cracks a tired grin. “Yeah,” he says, moving his arms when Derek starts to tuck the blanket around his lap, “but—look.”

He couldn’t care less about the snow. It’s nothing new to him; but there is something about the peaceful look on Stiles’ face that gets to him, and he ducks down to press a kiss to his husband’s cheek before going back into the house and grabbing an armload of blankets—probably more than they’ll need—and making a second trip for the still steaming mugs of tea.

Stiles has arranged a nest of blankets when Derek comes back outside, and as soon as Derek sits down there’s a blanket being drawn across his shoulders. He passes a mug to Stiles and takes a drink of his own, savoring the warm as it goes down, the way the snow muffles all the noise around him, and the feeling of Stiles at his side.

“S’nice,” Stiles says after a while, just as Derek’s starting to feel sleepiness tug at him. “We should get the sleds and try them out.”

“Not at three in the morning we shouldn’t,” he says, and plucks the empty mug from Stiles’ hands before it can droop any further towards the ground and shatter. “I’m not sure I trust you with that in the daylight.”

“Spoilsport,” Stiles says, his tone sounding fond. “You’re just scared I’ll beat you.”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” Derek says. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“Five more minutes,” Stiles says, and when he reaches over and links their fingers together, Derek doesn’t protest.

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #established relationship #eli writes

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exeggcute · 7 months

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deep in my heart of hearts I do think it's a little funny that everyone on this website has spent the last decade being actively hostile to any attempt tumblr has ever made to turn a profit (e.g. who remembers all of the "let's tank tumblr's value even more" jokes after the verizon > automattic sale) but now that tumblr is potentially entering its senescence people are acting legit surprised that its corporate owners aren't eager to shovel more cash into this money pit. idk why anyone would think the churning gears of capitalism would suddenly come to a halt and make an exception for a microblogging website started by a bunch of hipsters in 2007.

ultimately I do think tumblr suffers from having a userbase that's almost uniquely impossible to make money off of. I struggle to imagine any way this website could get out of the red considering that its users are generally resistant to ads (and running ads isn't super lucrative anyway unless you have a huge network and collect facebook/insta levels of audience data/PII, of which tumblr does neither. plus facebook/insta eliminates a lot of middleman fees because they are their own ad platform) and almost no one is gonna cough up money on a service they've been using for free for years. and before someone goes "well they should just make this website a public good and/or nationalize it" please go sit in the corner and spend some time coming up with (1) an honest forecast of how likely it is that'll occur in the next five years and (2) a list of steps that need to happen to get there and a list of resources necessary to keep it running afterwards. and before someone goes "I think tumblr should forget about profitability and keep the lights on indefinitely/focus on making users happy" please tell me what world you inhabit where everything runs on monopoly money and good intentions. I would love to visit someday.

#meaner addendum but I think people overestimate tumblr's longevity/take its existence for granted just because they use it all day every day #restaurants go out of business... TV shows get cancelled... very few active ongoing services are forever. least of all websites lol #related but RIP omegle. where else are kids gonna have fun flying in the face of stranger danger now

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memories-beneath-the-skin · 2 months

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The ugly, dirty green table. I remember it was white, then blue, gray, blue, then a mix of paints together that I took from my dad's shed and mixed together to make enough, which is it's final resting petina. I remember the table since I was single digits, and it is much older than that, as I think my dad got it at a garage sale well before I was born.

I would be given an old paint brush and left over paint to practice painting, every time I wanted. I swear the thing is held together from latex paint. It's dirty, abused, been in my garage a long while and needs cleaning.

My dad would always tell me it's his green stand, I was always... Whatever it was in my room all my life, so I took it when I moved out.

I have always wanted to strip it, refinish it, but haven't it has a lot of memory for me.

This afternoon blowing up my garage and organizing, just myself, my shadow and music, I got to the desk and froze.

I don't remember placing the sticker on it.

Yet it breathes and lives, forever stuck to the surface, not just stuck.. Worn into it like oils of the skin on a well used book, a path tread daily... Yet... How?

That sticker... I remember the moment I touched it the first time, only rememberable to me, the older woman that laid the marker on it and presented it to me never thought twice. I had to present my driver's license to her to qualify for entry and she was confused because I had the same name as the patient.

My father was "the sickest patient" in the largest, top state heart specialist hospital, and that was sicker than a man in critical condition in a coma.

I remember wearing that sticker on my chest and laying on my back, in a minivan, staring at the roof, the street lights of the parking lot beaming an orange glow onto my form. I was thinking... My fingerprints and hers are forever embedded in the glue film that is adhering it to my sweat soaked black tshirt.

Too lost in my mind to sleep, too unimportant to be allowed where I wanted to be. I laid with the plastic ridge of the hidden seats embedding into my back, the scent of my hoodie that I found jammed in a corner from last winter, as it was a makeshift pillow.

Laying there knowing he was there to die. They know I'm there because he was there to die. Odd how death is planned and forecasted like weather.

Pushing my anger and betrayal with the head nurse as hard as I could until they suggested security could help me to my car.

3 of us there... Only one after 10pm to be allowed to stay overnight in room, hospital rules, I fought to get two to stay, and I was the strong one willing to sacrafice to go. There was plenty of room in there, wasn't like we were in the way. He was not getting meals or water, no meds, they would occasionally come in to shift him (can expedite death) and check to see if he had passed.

93 humid degrees in that van, staring at the marks on the ceiling from cargo that has rubbed, looking out the rain spotted window, the moon looking so cold, windows cracked, could barely breathe comfortably, when the air I inhale felt just as warm as the air I exhale. My three bottles of water mostly gone, tasted like they have been warmed in a pan like milk for hot chocolate, my stomach growling but no urge to eat.

The hypocrisy in my thoughts... Praying he would die, hoping though I was at his side.

I did not sleep, I lost consciousness for 45 minutes, then the sun peaked over the building and into my eyes, awakening to what should have been an arresting sight, beautiful golden hues, I was prepared to give it the middle finger and scream at the heavens but I didn't need to look like a looney tune to security.

First person in line for visitation, new sticker made, got to room peeled off my smelly, sweat stained shirt, and swapped for a clean one after I freshened up in the bathroom he would never use.

Even now... I can't remember how that sticker, made it from my discarded, sweaty shirt, jammed into my duffel bag, next to my books, clean shirts and dry shampoo to live next it's life that heavily painted, old table.

This little unimportant story stops here, as my focus was not the events that continued, though a better story to read, only its my mind memory of this sticker.

To loop back to a previous post, as those that listened hopefully unfollowed, the others that clamor for the artistic nature/religious /love poetry that gets all the praise and hearts, was born from the need to write this..... The need to lay out my mind. To truly bleed out a thought, even if it's a fucking sticker on trash furniture. Too many only write to make convoluted art, speaking in writes that normal people simply don't speak like every day, where you got to read line 5 times to get the artistic angle they desire to use to try to make themselves stand out from everyone else, only to craft something that no one will truly remember as it's just safe emotions presented pretty. I understand that's their art and their groupies find value. Seldom do i feel like I've written, unless I bleed, truly fucking bleed and lay out the most truest, visceral thoughts I have on my mind.

To each their own. The world needs the safe, pretty writes to function, people are more apt to heart and publicly praise the safe writes... We as humans seldom do for what makes us fit in.

I'm just laying this out here for the 3 people that somehow made it this far to the post.

7/21, room 345.

I have no memory of that sticker, leaving my shirt to be transferred to that table in garage.

Though my memories were fucked after not sleeping for 3 days, and in the middle of the night driving home under the guidance of 3 redbulls, as the two others collapsed in my car from fatigue.

I have opened up an official inquiry in my mind to request access to my memories that are apparently stored in a vault, it's a dangerous act I do often. I just need one moment to remember the happenings of that sticker after it served its purpose.

It puts a hamper on my aspirations to strip /fix and refinish that table, the table had sentimental value, the memory of mixing my dad's paints while he was at work to create that odd green color has even more value in me and that sticker I thought about that night, that hit me like an unexpected attack from a sledge hammer as I saw it in the garage yesterday, carries so many painful yet needed memories that I will never be able to disturb it's place.

Odd how life pivots in fractions of a second, yet seems to drag for eternity at times too.

#my picture #writers on tumblr #original writing #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #writerscommunity #spilled writing #spilled truth #spilled pain #personal #not poetry

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