#life has been a bit exhausting lately so there were some challenges | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doumadono · 5 months

Note

emergency request

work has been stressful. i’m having panic attacks, and i’m dealing with a lot of disability related stuff on top of it. (in short: frequent episodes of not being able to move. at all.)

i don’t know if you write geto (didn’t see him on your masterlist), but if so, i would really appreciate a little geto x f!reader comfort fluff. if you’re not comfortable writing geto, i would happily accept aizawa.

thanks 🖤

A/N: I'm truly sorry to hear that you've been going through such a challenging time. Work-related stress, panic attacks, and dealing with disability-related matters must be incredibly tough. Take the time you need for self-care. You're stronger than you know, and I believe in your resilience ♥ If you ever want to talk or share more, I'm here for you. Take care of yourself, my dear! I genuinely hope this brief story brings you some comfort. Please be gentle with me - it's only my second time writing for him

JUJUTSU KAISEN EMERGENCY REQS

Geto was exceptionally perceptive, noticing subtle shifts in your mood long before you verbalized them.

He paid close attention to the nuances of your expressions, from the smallest furrow in your brow to the way your gaze shifted.

Initially, he observed in silence, not wanting to intrude but filing away mental notes about the patterns of your emotional landscape.

Geto became adept at distinguishing between your ordinary fluctuations and the more pronounced signs of emotional turmoil, honing in on the moments when you became increasingly weighed down.

He noticed the small details — how your laughter lost its genuine lilt or how your smile didn't quite reach your eyes during particularly trying times.

He was observant not only of the highs and lows but the nuances in between, recognizing the subtleties of emotions that might elude others.

Finally, one day, he asked, "You seem a bit distant lately. Anything you want to talk about?”

You tentatively shared glimpses of your struggles, allowing Geto to see the vulnerability you kept hidden from others. "It's just work stress, I guess. Been feeling overwhelmed…”

Geto pulled you into a reassuring hug. “I'm here, baby. Pour it out.”

The walls around your emotions started to crumble. “I've been having panic attacks, and it's affecting every part of my life. I'm just so… tired… emotionally exhausted, you know?”

He tenderly planted a series of gentle kisses on your forehead. "Don't fret, my dear. This too shall pass. All you have to do is be patient and show kindness to the wonderful soul of yours that I hold so dearly. Come, let me take care of you.”

The weight of the day pressed heavily on your shoulders as you stumbled into the shared apartment. The air felt thick with the residue of stress, and every step carried the burden of exhaustion. In a rare moment of vulnerability, the dam holding back the emotions broke, and you couldn't contain the torrent any longer.

Without warning, you began to scream, a raw and primal release of the pent-up frustrations and anxieties that had accumulated throughout the day. The sound echoed through the walls, a cathartic symphony of anguish. With each scream, you shed a layer of the burdens you had carried for far too long.

In a desperate frenzy, you tore your bag off your shoulders, the motion aggressive and unbridled. The bag hit the floor with a thud, a symbol of the weight you were shedding. Shoes were kicked off haphazardly, sent flying across the room like discarded remnants of a battle fought in the outside world.

Limping a step or two, you felt the physical toll of the day on your body. Each movement was a reminder of the struggles faced, a silent testimony to the challenges that seemed insurmountable. Despite the pain, you pressed on, driven by an unyielding need to find release.

Finally, on your knees, your body sank to the floor, and you hid your face in your hands. The sobs wracked your frame, the tears flowing freely as if breaking a dam of pent-up emotions. The vulnerability of the moment was palpable, an unguarded display of the toll that life had taken on your spirit.

The apartment walls absorbed the echoes of your cries, bearing witness to the raw authenticity of your emotional unraveling. In this private space, you allowed yourself to be unapologetically human, to let the facade crumble and reveal the vulnerabilities beneath.

Unbeknownst to you, Geto had been home the entire time, quietly observing the storm of emotions that unfolded. His footsteps had been soundless, allowing you the space to release the torrents of frustration that had built up throughout the day.

From the loyalty of a follower, the dynamic had shifted into a more intimate connection — the transformation from a dedicated supporter to a life partner. It had surprised you, leaving you in a state of perpetual awe at the evolution of your relationship. You marveled at Geto's keen intellect, appreciating the depth of his personality that went beyond the public facade. Yet, despite the admiration, there lingered a sense of bewilderment. You couldn't fathom what it was in you that had caused someone of his stature to fall for someone as seemingly ordinary as you.

The quiet rustle of Geto's kāṣāya garment marked his silent approach. As he entered the room, his discerning eyes took in the scene — your slumped figure on the floor, the remnants of emotional release scattered around.

With a subtle grace, Geto crouched beside you, his kāṣāya settling around him. His presence was a steady anchor in the midst of emotional turbulence. As he observed, the lines of concern etched onto his face betrayed a genuine worry for your well-being.

His thumb and index finger gently grasped your chin. There was a silent understanding in his touch — a recognition of shared struggles and vulnerabilities.

With a voice that held a calming resonance, he asked, "What's wrong, my love?" Geto's eyes searched yours, seeking the truth behind the storm of emotions that had unfolded.

Struggling against the strength of Geto's grasp on your chin, you attempted to avert your gaze from his keen, black irises. However, his hold was unyielding, preventing even the slightest movement. Your eyes, teary and vulnerable, met his unwavering gaze.

Tears welled up and spilled down your cheeks as the floodgates of emotion burst open yet again. With each sob, you began to share the burdens that had led to this emotional breaking point. The weight of work, the battles with disability, and the overwhelming stress poured out in words between shaky breaths. "I... I just can't handle it anymore," you admitted, voice choked with emotion. "Every day feels like a struggle, and I don't know how to keep going. Oh, I'm so so useless."

As you poured out your heart, a haunting self-doubt surfaced. Amidst the sobs, you confessed, "And... and I don't understand why you're with me. I'm not good enough for someone like you. You deserve someone stronger, someone who doesn't break down like this."

In the stillness that followed, Geto's gaze remained unwavering, his fingers maintaining their gentle yet firm hold. His expression held a mixture of understanding and compassion, the weight of your words acknowledged without judgment.

With a voice that resonated with sincerity, he responded, "Strength is not about never breaking down, little one. It's about finding the courage to rise again. And you, my dear, are stronger than you give yourself credit for."

His words, though simple, carried a profound reassurance. Geto's thumb wiped away a tear from your cheek, his touch a gentle acknowledgment of the vulnerability you had bared. "I chose you because of who you are," he affirmed, his voice a soothing presence amid the storm of emotions. "Your strength lies in your resilience, in the way you face challenges head-on. You don't have to be perfect; you just have to be yourself."

With your gaze locked onto Geto's unwavering eyes, lips slightly parted and tears streaming down your face, you continued to pour out the burdens that had weighed heavily on your heart. The sobs, though still present, became intertwined with the raw honesty of your words. "I feel like I'm drowning, Geto," you admitted, your voice shaky yet determined. "Work, my disability, everything... It's just too much. There are moments when I can't move, and it terrifies me. I don't know how to handle it." The vulnerability in your expression mirrored the openness of your heart. "I thought I could handle it all, but it's breaking me," you confessed. "I can't keep up this facade of strength. It's exhausting, and I'm tired, Geto. Tired of pretending I'm okay when I'm not."

Tears blurred your vision as you continued, "And there's this constant fear," you continued, your voice quivering. "That I'm not good enough for you. That you'll see through this facade and realize I'm just... not enough…"

Geto observed your tear-streaked face with a slight tilt of his head, his gaze unwavering. Geto slipped one of his strong arms under your knees and the other against your back. With seemingly effortless strength, he lifted you into his arms, cradling you with a tenderness.

Silently carrying you through the apartment, he navigated toward a hidden sanctuary — a winter garden tucked away at the back: a place that held significance, a haven of tranquility that had often brought you solace in times of need.

The door creaked open, revealing the serene winter garden adorned with delicate flora. The air was warm, and the ambient quietness seemed to amplify the intensity of the moment. Geto, still holding you securely in his arms, stepped into the sanctuary that he knew held a special place in your heart.

The familiar surroundings embraced you with a sense of calmness as Geto carefully settled you on a comfortable metal bench covered with thick blankets, ensuring that you were cradled in warmth.

Geto's gaze shifted to the delicate flora surrounding you. His voice was low and measured as the tall man began to explain, "All of these," he gestured towards the various plants, "are delicate. Just like you." His words held a quiet reverence for the intricacies of life, and he moved towards a small pot adorned with your favorite flowers — blue orchids. "It's easy to break them," he continued, his fingers grazing the petals with a gentle touch. "But even in their delicate state, they strive to survive." His attention shifted to a particular orchid that both of you had thought was long gone. Geto revealed the seemingly lifeless stalks, and to your surprise, pointed out two new buds emerging, still tender and small. "They may look delicate, but they have a strength within," he remarked, his eyes meeting yours. "Even when faced with adversity, they find a way to grow anew." Moving back to you, Suguro's gaze held a rare softness. "Just like these orchids, you've faced challenges and found the strength to grow. I admire your resilience." His words were sincere, a reflection of the admiration he held for your tenacity in the face of life's storms.

Tears welled up in your eyes. The quiver in your chin mirrored the emotions boiling within your soul. The weight of his words sank in, a profound recognition of the strength that had blossomed in the face of adversity. "I... I never thought of it that way," you admitted, your voice soft and tremulous. "It's just... sometimes it feels like everything is too much, like I'm too fragile for this world." The vulnerability in your confession hung in the air, a stark contrast to the quiet strength that Geto had just commended.

Geto's eyes held a depth of understanding as he listened to your words. With a reassuring touch, he reached out, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that trailed down your cheek as he took a seat beside you. "It's crucial," he said, "to focus on your own well-being. Only then can you coexist with your inner demons. Sorrow has a human heart too often. And you're strong enough to overcome it.” Geto, with a tender gesture, pulled you to sit on his thick lap. His strong arms enveloped you, drawing you close to his wide torso. Gently rocking you back and forth, he whispered words of encouragement into your ear. "You're stronger than you think, and I believe in you. Life throws challenges at everyone, and your resilience in facing them is truly admirable. Remember, it's okay not to have it all figured out. Be patient with yourself, take one step at a time, and know that you're not alone. I'm here, you're not alone. We're in this together. You're capable of overcoming whatever comes your way, and I'm proud to stand by your side. You can always count on me. I won't hesitate to remove any obstacles that stand in your way. Your well-being is my priority.”

The warmth of his embrace and the soothing cadence of his voice created a sanctuary of comfort, a moment of solace in which you felt both physically and emotionally embraced. You gently wrapped your sore arms around Suguru's neck, seeking solace in his comforting, warm embrace. Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you expressed gratitude, your voice soft but filled with sincerity. "Thank you for always being so gentle with me.”

"Anytime, Y/N. Difficult moments will fade away. And I'll never leave you alone. Ever,” he accentuated the last word, gently kissing your forehead. "Now, wipe away those tears and join me. We still have a delightful supper to prepare together.”

#emergency request #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x you #jjk x reader #geto x you #geto fluff #suguru geto fluff #suguru geto headcanons #jjk headcanons #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #geto x y/n #fluff and comfort #getou suguru x reader #jjk suguru

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weemssapphic · 8 months

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Do you think you could do a fic where the reader has a chronic illness? I don’t have a preference for which Gwendoline Christie character you choose, they’re all lovely. Any genre 💗💗💗

A/N: thank you SO much for this request. as a chronically ill girlie i love the idea of writing more fics like this - both hurt/comfort style but i guess also just reader having an illness and it being apart of their every day life. huge thank you to @eveymay for helping me brainstorm characters and settle on jan stevens - i think she'd be the most considerate, sweetest person to comfort someone. and thank you so much to @milfsloverblog for helping me to beta - i trust her as my number one source for everything jan stevens. anyway i hope you enjoy 💖

slow down, you’re doing fine

Jan Stevens x reader

Words: ~2.8k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: hurt/comfort, discussion of chronic pain and illness (symptoms such as fatigue, pain, dizziness, brain fog, nausea), migraine

“Hurry up! We’re leaving, you’re going to be late.” Elle’s words were accompanied by a knock on the bathroom door, and you couldn’t help but clench your jaw.

“Just go ahead without me, I’ll catch up,” you replied - you heard a huff, and then the shuffle of footsteps moving away from the door. With a sigh, you directed your gaze into the mirror, regarding yourself carefully as your lips settled into a deep frown. You looked tired. Fitting, considering how poorly you’d been sleeping this past week. So not only did you feel like shit today - you looked like shit, too. Cool.

You’d started your residency at the Sonic Catering Institute with your group a few months ago and so far it had been like a dream come true. You finally had the time to devote yourself 100% to the pursuit of art - nearly all your time was spent rehearsing, experimenting and performing. Every day was dedicated to your craft, and it was your version of bliss.

But even bliss was hard to enjoy with a chronic illness - you constantly felt as though you were seconds away from crumbling, as though one bad day could take away everything you’d worked so hard to achieve. You’d been having a flare-up the past few days (as you seemed to have every few weeks lately, almost like clockwork) - every evening you would go to bed and pray that, come morning, your body would afford you some brief reprieve. It never really did, of course - today was no different.

A dull throbbing could be felt behind your eyes - ever present, but no less painful or frustrating - and your joints ached before you’d even moved a muscle. You’d briefly considered staying in bed today - getting up meant facing the day, meant facing your body. But staying in bed meant having to call in sick - it meant curious looks from your bandmates, it meant disappointing Jan Stevens.

Oh, Jan - infamous, enigmatic director of the Sonic Catering Institute. Your relationship was still fairly new and, well… undefined. She flirted with you relentlessly, and you flirted back, though neither of you had made a move yet. Sometimes you caught her watching you, or staring at your lips a bit too long as you spoke, but someone else was always there to interrupt the two of you. Still, you found yourself dying to impress Jan, to get closer to her, to be with her even.

So, no, staying in bed wasn’t an option. It’s not like it would magically make you feel better anyway. You’d still feel like shit - you’d just be in bed instead.

After a few minutes of just holding yourself up on the edge of the sink, you went about your morning routine, mechanically half-assing all the necessary steps - brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, splashing water on your face.

Getting dressed was a little more challenging - it was the more exhausting part of your routine, and it was on days like today that you wished you’d chosen some stupid work-from-home job at a computer instead of your current career, if only so that you could show up to work in your pajamas and no one would care. A small (or maybe not all that small) part of your mind wandered to Jan, however, so you grimaced as you attempted to look your best for her.

~~~

Getting through the day was more of a challenge than you thought it would be. During your weekly meeting to go over notes and changes to performance techniques, you were seated directly next to Elle as she engaged in a heated discussion with Jan - Elle’s raised voice directly in your ear was enough to make your head pound viciously. You wouldn’t take pain meds yet, though - you didn’t want to risk them wearing off before the concert tonight.

Every so often, Jan’s impenetrable gaze would flick over to you. She seemed to be able to tell that something was off - red lips pursing in thought, deep blue eyes regarding you curiously under heavy black lashes.

Elle ended up storming out of the meeting, with Lamina close behind, already beginning to argue with her. Stones excused himself, one hand on his stomach as he rushed out of the room. That left you and Jan as you slowly packed your things, feeling her gaze upon you.

Jan flashed you a smile and stood from her seat, walking over to your side of the table with her voluminous white skirt swishing behind her. She perched herself on the edge of the table in front of you, placing a hand on the papers you were about to pick up, effectively stilling your movements.

“Well, well, I finally have you alone,” she said playfully as she loomed over you - her height was as intimidating to you as it was attractive, and you swallowed visibly.

“Jan Stevens.” You tilted your head in acknowledgement. Normally, you would have thrilled at such an opportunity - right now, though, you wished you were curled up in a ball in bed.

You attempted to slide your papers out from underneath Jan’s hand - her eyes dropped to the table and she placed her hand over yours. “They’re so pretty - your hands, I mean. Here, let’s compare sizes.” She lifted her hand and nodded eagerly at you - mesmerized, you couldn’t help but place your palm against hers - it was larger than your own, her fingers longer. It was surprisingly warm and oh so soft and you felt a spark of electricity go through your body when your bare skin touched hers.

“Oh! Look how well they fit together.” Jan’s lips pulled into a wide grin and she batted her lashes, her fingers curling slightly around yours. “A perfect match!”

You flushed, feeling a warmth rising in your face, and you pulled your hand away with a timid smile. “Y-yeah.”

Perhaps, if you’d felt a little better, a little less like complete garbage, you might have had the energy to flirt back - but it seemed your traitorous body couldn’t even let you have that much, unable to summon up the effort for a witty comeback.

Jan’s brows knit together, her lips parted slightly as she searched your face. “Are you alright?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You offered her a weak smile. Jan looked skeptical, watching as you stuffed your papers into your bag and stood - too quickly, apparently, as you swayed slightly and your vision became hazy around the edges. You tipped forward a bit, catching yourself on the table and taking deep breaths, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

Jan pushed off the table in an instant, standing behind you and placing a hand on the small of your back - you couldn’t help but shiver.

“Are you not feeling well, darling?” she asked, her voice gentle and breathy.

“What?” You gave her your best doe eyes, hoping she wouldn’t probe you further. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“Will you be alright to perform tonight?” You could sense the anxiety radiating off of her in waves - you knew how much pressure she’d been under lately, and it was one more reason why you couldn’t let her down.

“Yes, of course.” You used all the effort you could summon up to beam at her, hoping it would set her mind at ease. “Please, don’t worry about me.”

Jan looked slightly unconvinced, but she nodded and smiled all the same.

“Then I’ll see you tonight,” she murmured. With a curious glance and a moment’s hesitation, she leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your skin tingled pleasantly where her lips had been moments before, and you felt butterflies in your stomach. She reached out a hand to help you stand, watching as you left the room.

~~~

The rest of the afternoon passed by torturously slowly as you attempted to avoid all human interaction and wait for your pain meds to kick in - they never did. The concert was even worse. Your body was screaming at you to get some rest, but you couldn’t risk your residency - and, most of all, you didn’t want to let Jan down. So you tried to smile through it, pretending like the sound of the flanger wasn’t making your head pulse and like standing for an hour and a half wasn’t making your body ache and like the stuffy air, filled with the scent of various cooking foods, wasn’t making you feel dizzy and extremely nauseous.

And then there was the orgy after the concert - the mere thought of attending made you feel ill. You wanted to - you knew Jan would be there watching, and you would do anything for Jan. But a wave of nausea hit you just before entering the room, so you rushed to the bathroom instead. You left the bathroom door open - everyone else was at the orgy, surely no one would even notice you were gone. You sat on the floor in front of the toilet, a cool, damp washcloth pressed to your forehead. The nausea had begun to settle, but you were so tired and the bathroom tiles were pleasantly cool, so you stayed there, eyes closed, head leaned back against the wall.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the clicking of approaching heels - it wasn’t until you heard a voice in the doorway that you jumped a bit, your eyes snapping open.

“You’re not feeling well.”

Jan Stevens looked down at you, eyes flooded with concern. It wasn’t a question - rather, it was a statement - and you almost tried to deny it - then your eyes flicked to the toilet in front of you and you realized you couldn’t hide from Jan any longer.

“Yeah… I feel like shit, to be honest,” you admitted quietly, not quite able to meet Jan’s gaze - afraid of the disappointment you’d surely see there.

The taller woman surprised you by stepping towards you and sliding down the wall until she was sitting next to you - close enough for her scent, light and floral, to fill your nostrils, but not close enough to touch you. You looked at her curiously.

“I’ve been missing you tonight. I was wondering where you’d gone.”

The thought of Jan Stevens - the Jan Stevens - missing you made your stomach do a somersault, your heart beginning to pound violently.

“I had a date with an old friend,” you joked, tilting your head towards the toilet. Jan’s lips curved up into a smile, before she turned serious again.

“You’re ill. You could have told me.” Her voice held no reproach or anger - it was soft and gentle; if anything, she sounded worried. “You could have stayed in bed today, skipped the concert.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint or- or worry anyone. Especially you.” You added that last part quietly but from the way Jan’s eyes widened, you were certain she’d heard you loud and clear.

You chewed your lip as you searched for the right words - a way to convey how you felt without giving cause for too much concern. “If I stayed in bed every time I felt like this, I don’t think I’d ever get out of bed.” You tried to keep your voice light, chuckling slightly - one of your biggest fears was always being misunderstood, not being taken seriously, being seen as useless due to your illness.

Jan reached out for your hand, threading her fingers between your own.

“What is it? Can you describe it to me?”

No one had ever really asked for details about your illness before - some people asked to be polite, but Jan seemed so sincere, like she really cared. You cleared your throat nervously. “Well, part of it is chronic migraines. They’re, uh… not really treatable. I get nauseous a lot, and sometimes I get dizzy when I stand. I’m also really, um, tired all the time? Tired isn’t the right word, it’s more like exhausted. And it’s not just my head that hurts, it’s everything, all the time.”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “Doctors haven’t figured out why yet, it’s kind of hard to be taken seriously. But sometimes it’s bearable, you know? Like, it’s there but I can deal with it. But sometimes I flare up and that’s… harder.”

Jan nodded along as you spoke, her eyes scanning your face with great interest - when you finished, she was silent for a moment. Just as you began to wonder if you’d said too much, she stood and reached out her arms to you.

“Come with me,” she said. You furrowed your brow but allowed her to pull you into a standing position, and then she took you by the arm and escorted you out of the bathroom - you didn’t realize where she was leading you until you were ushered into her bedroom, the door closing behind you.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable here tonight. It’s just me here, you know. And you won’t have to worry about the others getting back late and disturbing your sleep.” She regarded you carefully, some emotion you couldn’t quite identify swimming in her cerulean pools.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, nerves washing over you as you looked around the spacious room, eyeing the large, luxurious bed. “You’re right, that does sound nice. I just…”

“What is it?” Jan asked, suddenly looking utterly nervous.

“I don’t want to impose, is all - this is your private space and-”

“Is it imposing if I want you here, darling?” Jan cut you off, her lashes fluttering as she watched you drink in the space.

“Uh… no, I suppose not.” You smiled hesitantly - Jan’s smile matched your own.

“Then you just stay right here, darling. I’ll get you something to wear.”

Jan left you standing at the center of the room to head to her walk-in closet, coming back with a pair of silk pajamas and directing you to her en-suite bathroom, where she pointed out an extra toothbrush. Soon you were ready for bed and, at Jan’s insistence, you settled back on the plush mattress - it was large and comfortable, and you found your fatigued body sinking into it, your eyes fluttering closed in momentary bliss.

When you opened your eyes, Jan stood at the edge of the bed watching you, a small, adoring smile playing on her lips.

“I suppose you’d like to go back to the orgy then?” you asked quietly, feeling a familiar gnawing sense of guilt at taking up too much of Jan’s time, at asking too much from her and taking too much.

Jan hesitated, stepping even closer to the bed. “What if I want to stay here with you? Will you have me?”

“Of course,” you breathed, your stomach fluttering and your eyes widening.

A wide smile bloomed on Jan’s face, and she left the room for a minute, her hips swaying and her dress swishing back and forth. She came back in light pink, silk pajamas with a matching bonnet that had two long bunny ears dangling from the sides, perching herself on the edge of the bed. You couldn’t help yourself - you pushed yourself up and ran a hand over one of the silky, dangly ears and let out a giggle.

“What?” Jan eyed you curiously.

“Nothing,” you said sheepishly, your face flushing. “I just find you very endearing, Jan Stevens.”

That remark earned you the warmest smile you’d ever received.

After such a long day, lying in the warmest, most comfortable bed you’ve slept in in a while, you allowed your body to go limp. The aches and pains were still present, of course they were, but exhaustion was slowly taking over and your eyelids were beginning to grow heavy as Jan tucked you securely under the duvet. Jan’s scent surrounded you - it was everywhere: on her sheets, her pillows, her clothes, clinging to the air. On her, as she snuggled in next to you, eyeing you intently - those deep blue irises sparkling with adoration.

A question formed on the tip of your tongue, one that suddenly began to nag you as you felt the pull of sleep, one that you couldn’t leave unasked: “Will I still be welcome here in the morning?” It came out a low mumble as you tried not to let your sudden apprehension become too apparent.

Jan furrowed her brow, her face falling slightly as adoration and awe morphed into confusion and concern in equal parts. “Of course, silly.” She gave you a reassuring smile and placed a warm hand on your arm as she scooted closer to you, daring to rest her head on your chest. “You know, I’d like to have you in my bed when you aren’t in pain, too.”

Your belly tingled pleasantly as a shy smile spread across your face. “I’d like that very much.”

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#jan stevens #jan stevens x reader #flux gourmet #gwendoline christie #jan stevens flux gourmet

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scullysexual · 2 months

Text

a continuation of this. @today-in-fic

mentions of emotional/physical abuse.

“No, Mommy!” Emily cries, trying to squirm away from Dana’s hand. They are in the bathroom of a Walmart, a wet paper towel sits in Dana’s hand as she attempts to wash the dirt and grime of the past few days from her daughter’s face. The five year old has none of it.

“I have to clean your face, baby,” Dana says quietly. Truthfully, she doesn’t have the energy to fight with Emily today. She was exhausted; the stresses of her living situation catching with her.

Last night they had camped in the parking lot of the Walmart whose bathroom they were currently using. It was another cold night and Dana had barely slept. Despite the overnight parking sign, Dana had still been worried somebody would come along and throw them out even if she deliberately parked in the corner furthest away. That, however, had also come with its own issues: no streetlights. So while one half of her had worried about getting kicked out, the other half worried about getting her car broken into while they slept.

Emily, thankfully, had had no issues falling asleep. It was the daytime she struggled with. Unsimulated, bored, Emily’s tantrums had been getting worse lately. So far Emily had ripped one of her books apart and the corner of her tablet had a crack in it from when Emily had thrown it onto the parking lot’s tarmac. Dana tried not to get angry at her child, she was probably feeling the stress too now.

“Why can’t I go home and have a proper bath?” Emily asks.

Home. Every day Emily asked to go home. Every day Dana told her they couldn’t.

“Home isn’t safe anymore,” Dana tells her again.

“Daddy puts bubbles in my bath and let’s me play with as many ducks as I want.” Emily’s head lifts, almost challenging Dana to compete with her precious daddy. She hears what Emily doesn’t say. You keep me in a car all day and try to wash my face in stinky toilets.

Dana knows this already. She would listen as Ethan bathed Emily hours after a fight, like nothing had happened, meanwhile Dana would clean up the mess left behind.

She doesn’t tell Emily the other things Ethan does or says like how angry he becomes when he drinks or how she and Emily are the reason his life is so shit.

Well, they were out of his life now, Dana wonders if it was going any better for him.

Dana tosses the paper towel into the trashcan. She brushes her teeth and then disappears into the cubical to pee. She gets Emily to sing a song with her so Dana knows she still there and it’s during this time that something catches her eye. A leaflet sticks halfway out of the sanitary bin. Dana yanks it out as the lyrics to Wheels On The Bus trail off from her lips. Emily stops singing, too.

“Mommy, where did you go?” Emily cries.

“I’m still on the toilet, baby,” Dana answers though she is distracted looking at the leaflet. It’s a job ad; some time of nanny agency. Babysitting, Dana thinks. There’s a number on the bottom. An ideal striking, Dana gets off the toilet. When she opens the cubical, the leaflet still in her hand, Emily looks at her with relief.

“You took too long,” she says accusatory.

“I’m sorry,” Dana apologises. She shoves the leaflet into her bag and washes her hands.

“Can we go home now?” Emily asks.

“Soon.” Dana helps Emily off the counter and she takes hold of her hand, leading her out of the bathroom.

…

Dana listens as the phone rings, Finding Nemo plays in the background, Emily’s little laughter escaping her mouth as she watches. The phone rings five times and Dana is sure nobody is going to pick up. She’s about to give up when the ringing stops, there’s a slight pause, and then a woman’s voice rings through.

“Happy Nest Nurseries, Ellie speaking, how can I help?”

The voice on the other end takes Dana back a bit and she stutters slightly before she speaks.

“Hi, um…I’m Dana Scully. I was wondering if you had any positions available?” She bites her lip with trepidation, watching Emily through the rear-view mirror.

Ellie sighs. “I’m sorry, we don’t have any places, right now.” Dana’s heart sinks. Ellie goes quiet again and Dana hears the hustle of the phone being moved. There’s a conversation happening between Ellie and somebody else but Dana can’t quite catch the words. Finally, Ellie’s voice sounds through again.

“Actually, Monica says she might have something. Could you come in today?”

Dana smiles, happy and wide. “Yes! Yes, I can.”

“Great,” says Ellie. “I will see you then.”

They exchanges goodbyes and Dana starts putting the car into gear. The sound of the engine coming to life causes Emily to look up from her tablet.

“Are we going home now?” she asks.

“Not quite. Mommy has somewhere she needs to be.”

…

It’s only when she gets to the offices- the address listed on the leaflet and confirmed during a quick phone call to Ellie again- that Dana realises her appearance doesn’t exactly scream interview ready. She looks as tired as she feels, has aged about 10 years in three days. When she untangles her hair from the hair tie it falls down mattered and greasy, in need of a good wash, her curls in need of a reset (or a pair of straighteners) She finger combs through the ends, yanks out a giant knot with a wince, then reties her hair, this time into a ponytail. Then she pulls open the glove compartment in the hopes of finding a stray lip gloss tube in there. After rummaging around she finds not only the lip gloss but mascara, too, along with that a broken comb, couple of random receipts, a lighter, half a pack of cigarettes, Ethan’s ‘lost’ driver’s license- the memory of the day he lost that forever burned into her mind- and a teething toy from when Emily was a baby. Suffice to say, just about everything was in this glove compartment.

Dana shoves everything put the lip gloss and mascara away, she’ll deal with that junk another day. The uses the sun shield mirror and applies the products, immediately looking and feeling better about herself. She turns to Emily then.

“Emily?”

Emily remains half engrossed still by her tablet. “Hmm?”

“I’m about to speak to some very important people. I need you to be on your best behaviour, okay?”

“Can I bring my tablet?”

Dana sighs. When she was pregnant with Emily she didn’t want to become that parent who handed their child a phone screen to keep them quiet. In fact, she had been very against the idea, upholding it whenever she could. It was Ethan who ruined that one. When Emily was two years old he handed her his phone and it had been that way ever since. It wasn’t the first time Dana tried to implement rules and restrictions that would get thrown out the window by Ethan a few hours later. Bubble baths and unlimited ducks one of them. There was a reason Daddy was the favoured one because he gave whatever Emily wished, Mommy was just mean.

“Yes but you’ll have to put on your headphones.”

Emily pulls the headphones out of her bag and puts them on, forgetting to plug the wire into the tablet. Dana laughs and climbs out, reaching back into the car to unbuckle Emily and plug the wire in. Dana guiding a screen-hypnotised Emily, they both walk into the office building.

…

She meets Ellie at one of the desks. The girl wearily eyes Dana and Emily before smiling that fake customer facing smile.

“Maria will be in her office. Follow me.” And Dana does, following Ellie to the end of the hall. Two knocks and when a voice on the other side of the door bids them entry, Ellie opens it.

“Dana Scully is here to see you,” says Ellie.

“Send her in,” says the voice.

Ellie opens the door wider and Dana walks into the room.

“You can go now, Ellie.” And Ellie does so, closing the door behind her.

The woman- Monica- does a once over of Dana.

“I’m sorry,” Dana says immediately. Between the looks Ellie gave her and now the looks Monica is giving her, she knows she isn’t making a great first impression appearance wise. “I just didn’t intend on coming here today.”

“That’s okay,” says Monica. “Who is this?” she asks with interest and a big smile at the sight of Emily.

“My daughter, Emily—” Emily is oblivious, her eyes still glued to the screen. Dana looks wearily towards the other woman.

“You know, a lot of our clients don’t like giving screens to children,” Monica says in a tone that is gentle but still conveys a certain amount of warning.

“I know. And I don’t usually like it either but she’s so restless, she’d only be pilfering through your stuff, she’s very curious. The screen gives her something to focus on, it keeps her quiet, it…” Dana trails off. She knows she isn’t making much of an effort to defend herself, coming up with excuses here and there. “I just needed her to be quiet for now,” Dana says honestly. “I try to restrict her screen time.” A half lie, she did try when she lived with Ethan.

“Sit,” says Monica. “Let’s have a little chat.”

The woman guides the two of them over to the chairs at her desk. Dana helps Emily onto her seat before sitting down herself. Monica watches, beady eyed. When everyone is settled, Monica speaks.

“I don’t often do this but we’ve had a client seeking a nanny recently,” explains Monica and Dana hangs on to every word. “She’s desperate, almost, and we’re fully booked. Or we were, until you called. Now, we will have to do background checks, make sure you’re legit, it’ll take about three days but if everything comes back clean, which in most cases it does, the job is yours. Would you like it?”

Dana can barely believe it. She smiles brightly and nods.

“Yes, of course.”

Monica smiles back. “Great. Let me get you a form.” She wanders over to a filing cabinet and pulls the top drawer open. Dana takes her chance.

“Um…I wondered if I could also get a proof of employment in those three days as well. I’m hoping to get onto a housing list.”

Monica pauses and sighs. “Unfortunately Dana, you have to pass your probation before we can give you anything like that.”

Dana’s heart sinks once more. “And how long is the probation?”

“Three months.”

Dana gawks. Three months! She can’t live in her car for three months. She looks away, willing herself not to cry.

“I also have to ask what you intend to do with Emily when you’re at work. We’re you intending on taking her along too or do you have somewhere to put her, someone she can stay with?”

“Would she be allowed to come with me?”

Monica sighs again. “It’s not advised. You’re protected under insurance if anything was to happen to you while at the house. Emily, however, would not be. It is a risk.”

Dana looks at Emily then. Who knows what type of person this client could be. She could be risking Emily’s safety taking her with her. But where else could she go? To go back home would mean seeing Ethan. Family is…tricky. Melissa isn’t cut out for caring for a child- not to mention if she’d be in any state to even do so- she hasn’t spoken to her parents since Emily’s fifth birthday and that ended in an argument between her and her father, Ethan’s mother despises her and while she loves Emily she’ll only accept Emily if Ethan is the one dropping her off. There was one last person, the only one who has actually offered any support for Dana in the five years she’s been a mother but she too comes at a risk.

But, depending on hours, a risk Dana was willing to make.

“Yeah,” she says. “I have someone she can stay with.”

“Brilliant,” says Monica. She hands the form to Dana. “Fill this in as quickly as possible.”

…

Diana Fowley is the name of the woman who’s kids she’ll be looking after. Two boys: William who was the same age as Emily and Arthur who was three. Simple. Easy. She can do this.

Diana is a lawyer and, according to Monica, going through a divorce. It’s messy, the father’s contact with the boys is limited to weekends or whatever reason and originally, he was the stay at home dead while she was the breadwinner. Now this divorce has meant Diana has to look at other options.

Dana can’t help but compare this father to Ethan. She could never imagine Ethan as a stay at home parent- that was relegated to her- for pride mostly but also for controlling reasons. If Dana has no income herself then she can never leave, forever dependant on Ethan for a home, for financial support. She wishes she could see his face now. I got a job, Ethan. Turns out I’m not as stupid as you made me think.

Not that she was ever stupid. She has a quarter of a physics degree, had a direct path into medicine. A doctor she was going to be, a heart surgeon of all things. She was Emily’s age when she decided that that was what her career was going to be. She had it all worked out: married at 30, a kid two years later. Only the marriage never came, the kid nine years too early.

Dana doesn’t regret Emily, she doesn’t blame Emily for how her life has turned out. Emily is her entire world, Dana just wishes she hadn’t been 21.

“What do you want to be when you grow up, Emily?” Dana asks as they drive down a suburb.

The tablet is still on, now playing Ratatouille.

“A chef!”

This would be wonderful news if, when Dana asked her a few days ago, Emily hadn’t replied with dentist because she was watching Finding Nemo. She expects her daughter’s answer would’ve been a superhero if she’d been watching The Incredibles. But whatever path her daughter choices, Dana just hopes she’s able to become whatever she wants.

Her stomach twists as the house looms in front of her. Bill’s house she thinks as her hands squeeze the steering wheel. No, Tara’s, Dana corrects. If she stays it’s Tara’s house then it is a lot less daunting.

“Where are we, Mommy?”

“You’re going to spend the day with Auntie Tara, baby.”

Emily recoils.

“I hate Auntie Tara!”

“Emily!” Dana admonishes, spinning around. “You don’t hate anyone. Auntie Tara loves you. She wants to see you.”

Tears come to Emily’s eyes as she furiously shakes her head.

“I don’t want to!” the child cries. “I don’t like Auntie Tara. I want to go home! I want Daddy! Why won’t you let me see Daddy?!”

Dana sighs preparing herself for another Emily tantrum.

“Take me to Daddy!” Emily’s foot kicks the back of Dana’s chair. “I want to see Daddy!” Kick. Daddy. Kick. Daddy. Kick. Daddy.

Dana closes her eyes, focuses on her breath, breathing in and out, in and out. She reopens her eyes.

“Emily,” she says quietly, not rising to her daughter’s level. “I need Tara to look after you today.”

“Why can’t Daddy?”

“Daddy’s busy.”

“But I haven’t seen him in years!”

She reminds herself that it’s only been a week.

“I know and we will see Daddy soon but for now, I need you to go with Auntie Tara until Mommy gets back, okay?”

“Where are you going?”

“I told you, Mommy has to go to work.”

The concept was baffling to the child.

“But you stay at home…” Emily says with a frown.

Dana smiles. “Not anymore. We need to find a house—”

“We have a house- Daddy’s house.”

Dana unbuckles her seatbelt and climbs out of the car. She opens Emily’s door, unbuckles Emily, and kneels down in front of her.

“I need you to listen to me, Emily. Daddy is a bad person. Do you know what a bad person is?”

Emily nods. “They hurt you.”

Dana nods in return. “They do. That’s what Daddy did- he hurt me. He almost hurt you.” She wipes a stray tear from her child’s face. “So I got us out of there. That is why we can’t go back home, we can’t go back to Daddy. I’m gonna get us a new house where nobody can hurt us but I need you to stay with Tara so I can do that. Do you think you can do that?”

Emily pauses, thinking it over hard as if she had any choice in the matter.

“Daddy was shouting and you were crying.” Emily frowns as if trying to remember. “And something hitted my head.”

Dana nods again, tears now coming to her own eyes. She thought maybe Emily would have forgotten that night. Clearly not. “It was a glass cup, baby. Daddy threw a glass cup and it almost hit you.”

Emily’s eyes widen. “Why? Did I do something wrong? Do I make Daddy angry?”

Dana’s heart breaks a million times over, the gravel currently cutting into her knees didn’t hurt as much as this. She gathers Emily into her embrace.

“No, baby girl…” She breaths in her unique Emily scent. “You don’t make anybody angry. Daddy meant to…” She stops herself. Daddy meant to throw it at me she almost says. “He didn’t mean to throw it at you. But it did get you so that’s why we had to leave.”

“Daddy let’s me have bubbles and ducks in the bath.”

Dana smiles despite having nothing to smile about. How difficult to must be to understand that the Daddy who gives Emily bubbles and ducks is the same Daddy who screamed at Mommy, made her cry, and threw a glass cup.

“I’ll tell you what,” Dana proposes, pulling away and looking at Emily once more. “If you stay with Tara now, when we get our new house, you can have all the bubbles and ducks you want.”

“I want a duck bedroom. Painted yellow. With little ducks like Quacky.”

Dana sniffles, giggling through her tears. “You can have that as well. You can have anything you want.”

Emily smiles, tears and tantrums over. Another tear falls from Dana’s own eyes and Emily reaches forward, wiping one away.

“Don’t cry, Mommy. You can have bubbles and ducks, too.”

In that moment, every single thing Dana has endured feels 100% worth it if it meant Emily got to be here. She pulls Emily back into a hug.

“I love you, baby girl. So, so much.”

“I love you, too, Mommy.”

Dana presses little kisses all over Emily face until the child laughs and squirms away. Then she stands and Emily resumes watching her movie. Dana knocks on Tara’s front door.

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #scullysexualwrites

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flamingskull28 · 1 month

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So this stood as a wip in my drafts for a long time so I had an idea. I'd finish it on a cliff hanger.

Now I will @ 3 friends to challenge them to finish a bit more. Maybe they will @ more people, who knows?

---

Marie vaguely listened as Callie and Agent 3 chatted. They always had some random topic to chat about, whether it be exercising routines, turf wars or music those two always had something to yap about.

While Marie did enjoy listening to them, with her own occasional chime ins. Her attention was mostly spilt over at Agent 4 who lay on the nearby couch outside the cabin, not really resting but more pretending to. Marie had demand she rest for a while after her 5th time going into the Canyon to train...

"Hey! Earth to Marie! Marieeeeeeeeeeeeee." Callie stretched her words out in the most annoying way possible till Marie finally snapped out from her half there trance.

"huh, who..."

"Me, silly...You okay Marie? You've been more zoned out more than usual." Callie's voice was un-naturally caring.

"I...." Marie sighed and tore her gaze from 4 "It's Agent 4, she's... been different lately, you've noticed right? She's been less chipper and upbeat, she barely talks anymore, her face is almost always stone cold, even when I tell her she can use her dualies in a misson... she doesn't even smile... and she's been spending more and more time in the Canyon. Always saying its for training.... she always comes back exhausted and covered in scars and bruises then at the first chance she gets...goes straight back out..." Maries voice rose and fell as she spoke untill she finally huffed,

Callie paused and looked at the out of breath Marie, considering her words for a moment "I... I have noticed, I just thought it was just a phase but.. you're right.." Callie forced a smile "Maybe 3's just rubbing off on her." She said trying to make light of this, 3 rolled her eyes in response thought the agent seemed nervous about something.

"That- Cod damit..." Marie muttered glancing back at the couch and seeing 4 vanished as if they'd never been there in the first place. Marie tapped her ear piece. "4, are you in the Canyon?" she tried to put disapproval into her voice.

After a few seconds of silence, her ear pieces speaker trickled to life, "Mhm." was all 4 said.

"4 I want you to come back. Now. Thats enough patrolling for today."

"....No...." gunfire was audible in her mic.

"4 you have spent well over 12 hours out there today. Come back to the Cabin, that's an order..." after a minute of no response she added "Please?"

*click*

..."4!" Marie yelled processing that her Agent had hung up on her. She turned to Callie and 3 as if to confirm that wasn't her imagination, but both their jaws were agape. 4 wasn't always the best with orders but she never refused one, let alone hung up on Maire...

Then 3 face planted into her hands and groaned "Cod... this is all my fault.... "

Marie and Callie stared at the girl, silently asking for an explanation.

"I..." 3 audiblely held back tears. Her and 4 has grown very close from what the sisters understood. Callie said they were like beasties but Maire saw... something more building between the two. So if 3 had done something to upset 4, this reaction would be understandable.

3 took a deep breath "Last month, you recall that patrol where me and 4 were gone all day and came back battered?" 3 continued knowing the sisters did remember. "Well as you know.. 4 and I were ambushed, we were overwhelmed by a whole splatoon of troops and barely scraped through...."

3 paused, her face covered in sorrow and regret. "Afterwards we were pissed, 4 and I argued about how that could've happened to us.... I-I was such a bitch to her." 3's voice cracked guiltily, as the regret pooled inside her bubbled over and leaked out in her words "I said 'this would have never happened if 8 was here,but no I was stuck with your incompetent ass and almost died because of it'.... she looked so hurt.....she hasn't talked to me since."

3 stopped and her tears finally broke through. Callie placed a comforting hand on their shoulder. Marie did not, feeling the urg to punch 3 mixed in her pity.

"So.." Marie death gripped her brella "She's been doing this to herself... because you couldn't hold back your temper? Now... she thinks torturing herself is the only was to be worth while..." Marie threw her umbrella aside and kicked open the cabin door. Rummaging through until she found her hero charger.

"Marie... you can't just blame 3." Callie said sternly, to no response. Marie kept walking away. "Where are you going?"

Marie looked back. Visiblely angry. "To find 4, don't follow." She super jumped away.

----

I challenge @geminired @sodapoppss @deemodomino to build on if they wish.

#splatoon #agent 4 #agent 3 #implied Agent 12 #marie #callie and marie #callie #splatoon 2 #writing on tumblr

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orionwynnter669 · 3 months

Text

Twist fan drabble

This is a little fanfic I wrote featuring my oc Wynn (trans he/him). Heavy smut involving the Octavinelle trio. Dni if you're a minor. Tws below the cut

Contains tentacles, biting, mentions of certain female anatomy that some readers may find triggering, breeding kink, 4some.

Wynn belonging to the Dorms pt1

Of course he signed a contract. He had no other choice. Others may say differently, those who were blessed with the means to avoid it, but he was, quite literally, backed into a corner. It started with losing Ramshackle, Crowley was all too happy for the dilapidated building to suddenly be pulling in revenue, so besides the complaints and disappointment from his friends, no one stepped in. Then, he signed away his life, body and soul to them. He had nothing else he could lose. There wasn't even a challenge to overcome, it was merely everyone else's freedom in exchange for his. He'd given up trying to fight against them.

Working in the lounge was difficult, the training hard and strict, but he managed to overcome it. He attended class with Grim by day, worked in the lounge until late into the evening, then, if he was lucky, he'd get a few hours of sleep stuck under Azul's tentacles or between the twins (or all three) before starting again early in the morning. However, that isn't the case on nights when Floyd's unpredictable mood gets in the way, or when Jade has some extra "discipline" he wishes to give. Sometimes it's simply Azul wishing for more that leads to this.

"Sorry about the delay, I had some sudden business to tend to. How's our little pet holding up?"

Azul purred as he locked the door to his room behind him, shedding his human appearance as he came towards the bed. Floyd chuckled, ramming his hips against Wynn's non stop, while his mouth was being used by Jade. The latter was steadily thrusting down the Wynn's throat, barely giving him room for air. He ran a free hand along Wynn's chest while the other kept his head still enough to use. As Azul approached, Jade grabbed a fistful, pressing Wynn down until his lips were flush with his skin, cockwarming in his throat while answering the housewarden with his signature grin. "He put up a bit of a struggle at first, but is managing -hng- quite well." Wynn couldn't see Azul, but he began trembling even more than he already had been as tentacles made their way across his body. He started choking from the lack of air, groaning and desperately gripping Jade's thigh. He sadistically continued speaking to Azul over his muffled whines, but Wynn was so caught up in being unable to breathe that he couldn't hear anything, too focused on silently begging for mercy as his eyes began to roll back. His head was finally pulled off with a slick pop as he gasped and choked for air, clutching at his throat as if that would protect him. As he regained clarity, he noticed Floyd had also slowed down, letting Wynn focus on catching his breath.

Jade's soothing hand on his head was replaced by Azul's, lifting him up enough to place gentle kisses against his lips. "Good boy. You've done so well, now it's time to reward you. Don't try to fight it, just succumb to our touch." Lips against his temple, hands and tentacles caressing his exhausted body, every limb being held by one of them. Floyd nibbling against his legs while Azul cradled his head replacing the roughness with gentle tongue, Jade placing reverent kisses against his knuckles, wrist, up his arm. He didn't realize he was being moved around until his chest was flush with Floyd's, whose teeth grazed the skin against his neck. He let out a soft mewl at the sensation, wrapping his arms around Floyd's shoulders as Jade came behind him, pressing up against his back. Teasing, sensual kisses against his throat, front, back, and sides. The lingering pressure against his pulse, the slight prick of teeth eager to sink in. As both twins pressed against him, Azul's tentacles continued their caress of his skin, gripping and sucking and leaving him whining ever so sweetly.

Jade pressed his member against Wynn's ass, already entering him as Floyd let out a low groan. Wynn's face contorted into a look of pleasure as both twins rocked him between them, soft, needy sounds escaping his lip. Azul grabbed Wynn's chin, tilting his head to face him as their lips connected, swallowing the sweet sounds building in his throat. Then something else pressed against both of his entrances. Something long, hard, and unmistakably Azul. It wrapped around both of the twin's cocks, making the already difficult stretch nearly unbearable as he worked his way even deeper than both of them. The one at his front seemed thicker, and Wynn knew exactly what that meant as it began teasing the entrance to his womb.

Before he could struggle against it, the twin's rammed into him with renewed intensity, his cries muffled against Azul's tongue as his inner entrance was finally breached. Teeth marks littered his skin and firm hands held him in place with a near bruising grip. His fingers dug into Floyd's back, desperately trying to hang on, which seemed to spur him into thrusting even harder. He felt the twins bite down hard against his neck and shoulder, piercing the skin with their sharp teeth as they sent him skyrocketing over the edge. His whole body convulsed, tensing and shaking violently, screams of pleasure and pain intertwined threatening to tear him apart from the inside. His moans and cries were all swallowed by Azul, who firmly kept their lips locked together while the deep rumbling in his chest continued to build. After a few short moments that felt like eternity, the other three joined Wynn over the edge, hips sputtering and burying themselves as deep as they possibly could as seed painted and filled his insides. His eyes rolled back at the overwhelming warmth, body unable to keep up with the pleasure. Azul pulled away enough for Wynn to breathe, leaving his mewling cries to escape into the room as his body continued drowning in euphoria.

He was left breathless and dazed as his body fell limp against Jade's chest, gentle hands coming to caress every inch of his body. He didn't know what touch belonged to who, but it didn't matter anymore. Three sets of predatory eyes gazed down at his exhausted face as he was once again reminded that, he belonged to all of them.

End.

#twisted wonderland #bottom male reader #original character #octavinelle #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #jade leech #twst jade #floyd leech #twst floyd #twst smut #twst oc #trans oc

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httpiastri · 8 months

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Hello love!

It's been a little while, so first of all-Happy belated birthday! I saw the messages on the day and wanted to write a little something, but then I got so busy 🙈 so I wish you all the best, for all of your wishes to be fulfilled and a great year overall!

I really like the new layout, it seems so calm 🩵

I feel like my life has been so busy lately, I barely had time to catch my breath. But for now, I am incredibly happy to be here and getting to know me again in a completely different environment. My host family is so lovely and last weekend I met some nice au pairs that live really close to me, so now I am not even alone anymore haha!

Being here also means that I am kinda always out and about, so I only watched fp3 yesterday and the start of the f2 race today. It's a shame it got cancelled so soon :( but safety first of course!

I won't be able to watch the F1 race tomorrow, but I am still hoping for some Lando magic. I really want him to win the race, but I also want to be there and watch it live? But it will be Max's win anyways lol!

In the last ask you said you were planning dropping out of uni- I am sorry to hear that, even though its probably for the best if you don't like the subjects. I don't know how people react in your country with news like that, but just remember that it's most important to be happy with what you do! (Who knows? Maybe you want to do a year abroad somewhere as well?)

I will probably catch up on all the writing you uploaded in the last couple of days and go to bed then- I am exhausted 😴

-✨

love! hello!! thank you so much, i hope you get a lovely year too 💘 and thank you! my old theme was so random shssjhs i do enjoy this a bit more !!

aw it makes me so glad to hear that you are happy and that the people around you are good to you. and i love the positive mindset! it must be really challenging but you’re doing so well 🥹 and oooo you met some people!! that’s lovely !!! are they from a lot of different countries or is it all kind of similar? if you get what i mean shsksjs

yeah it must be hard to keep track of all racing when you’re so busy… i was disappointed about them cancelling f2 but i do think it was a good choice, it didn’t seem very safe. it just sucks that they can’t like postpone sessions instead of cancel them :( like i get that it’s because of the schedule on the track but it still sucks! for everyone probably

!! crossing my fingers for lando tomorrow !!!! hoping for maybe a little rain (but not so much that it’s dangerous) for tomorrow’s f2 feature so arthur can get some easy climbing…. pls he deserves some points 🙏🙏🙏

hmm well in my country i guess it’s kinda like… not super weird to not go to uni? or at least it’s common to take a few years off to work and stuff after high school. the good thing about sweden is that school doesn’t cost anything so i have no debts and won’t lose any money for dropping out, which i guess is a big problem for people dropping out in other countries. we even get paid to go to school here, and tbh i was gonna use that money to pay for rent but that’s not happening now…. so well 🫠 but yes thank you, i will try to remember that!! <3

to be honest, i’ve thought a lot about moving to another major city or even going abroad, because recently i feel like this place isn’t for me in some way. i applied (and got accepted) to a school in the second biggest city, but i have too many responsibilities here this year that i just can’t escape from so it just wouldn’t work out 🥲 but i really do think that moving abroad is going to be the goal for me for the future! idk how but im gonna try to make it happen lmao!! i shall take inspiration from your braveness 🥰🤭

awh, i hope you get some good sleep and dream sweet dreams of our boys!! 😚😚😚

#random but as i was watching the f2 practice yesterday with my dad #they zoomed in on arthur and i went ‘awww sweetie!!’#and my dad asked who it was (despite the fact that they literally put up a name tag 🙄) and i told him that it was lil leclerc #and then my dad proceeded to say that he was cute???#hell yes you’re very right #arthur supremacy #it’s not like i haven’t shown him tons of pics and videos of arthur #like i thought he would recognize him but apparently not 😶#anyways #love hearing from you darling <3 #hope things continue to go okay 🥰#asks!#anon!#✨!

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purposelynana · 1 year

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WHAT DID I WATCH: #26

I watched Love In The Air, made commentary post out of it, and at the last minute decided to delete it because I don't think it deserved to get out there. I consider myself as a rude person but that kind of post will solidify me as the evilest person on earth.

All I can say is that wow I've got so many rants about this. I mean this is downright bad. Not in any campy way, but morally bad way. I want to defend this because there were some parts that just good (ahem, Sky, ahem). But, how could I defend something which challenged me to confront certain stuff. Especially, of how we define rape and consent.

I've been in abusive, gaslighting, victim-blaming kind of relationship. Watching Love in The Air has been an exhausting experience. Not only because it reminded me of some of the bad times that I've had, but also how ridiculous this kind of relationship got resolved in the series.

But then again who the hell am I? I don't even know Mame and why she kept writing this kind of story. I do feel a little bit pity towards her. Is something going on with her personal life and resulting in this form of entertainment?

And the sound mixing is just downright bad. Like I can't comprehend what the hell is going on in the post-production. Probably Mame and her team threw whatever they could salvage from the shoot. I tried so hard to shut my brain off but then nah, it still felt dumb.

In order for me to enjoy this series, I had to throw all of the moral guides I've been taught on. But, we as human, if we lost our principal that means we already cost our humanity and I don't want that. I don't want to be a not-human.

The only thing that I could appreciate from Mame.

Meanwhile, been spending time to watch Big Dragon which is nice surprise in the sea of toxic relationship that get represented on TV. It was nice to see just a jerk meeting jerk. And that's Mame wouldn't understand. I'm not trying to justify rape but at least if you want to include rape into your scene, do it to the equally bad people. God, I think I'm not going to forget Mame's mistakes, am I?

Perhaps one of the strengths of this little pulpy series that rarely got mentioned is how beautiful sometimes dialogues flow between characters. It's so true to the characters and it felt real, not some made-up wattpad-y type of dialogue. Because the very reason why some of adaptations from Y-novel felt flat to me, is they just copied whatever on the paper and not trying to make it believable in today's world.

One of the best dialogue is happened on this very scene. Kinda wish it took a little bit effort from the actors but yeah...

Then, I've been trying to get through episode 6 of Ghost Host Ghost House. (weird choice of title, by the way). Strangely, after the talked about episode 4, it kinda bummed out a bit. I mean, I don't really like watching it for no particular reason. In other language, yes it is boring. For me, it was too fast in pacing. But yeah whatever happened on episode 4, was convinced me to continuing this.

AND LASTLY, THE ONE THAT HAS BEEN INVESTED INTO MY BRAIN LATELY IS...

what the hell, season 2, what the hell.

to me personally, this way better than S1 because its pacing and the acting. oh my god, edvinnnnn!!!!!! my sonnnnnn!!!!!

maybe because i'm so biased to exes-to-lovers kind of trope, that's why i'm so glad. knowing on fiction your gloomy love story could end up having a different outcome if everyone willingly to just fight. not just yourself. story of my life.

it takes losing one another to find each other.

bismillah mantan hayuk.

#love in the air #big dragon #ghost host ghost house #young royals #what did i watch

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laeorinel · 2 years

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Day 4 - FFXIVWrite2022

Extra credit day so I made my own prompt for this. Sods law this will be one of the words that comes up later this month.

Word prompt: Heavy

No spoilers as such. Takes place late Heavensward/Patch 3.2.

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One foot moves past the other, slow and clumsy. The frigid snow was nearly up to her knees now. Her axe carved a path through the snow next to her, it practically being held in a death grip.

"Just keep moving." A mantra Samara has been telling herself for the last...hour? Two hours? She lost track of how much time had passed a while ago. Her limbs grew heavier and heavier as she walked. Looking ahead, all she saw were snow-covered hills— no signs of civilisation or life for malms.

It was her own damn fault. Her gut told her not to accept that hunt job, but naturally, she ignored that instinct, the thrill of the hunt and battle overriding what common sense she had. Now she was stuck in the arse end of Coerthas with no mount, few supplies, and more than a few wounds that needed tending to soon. The real kick in the teeth was that she had nothing to show for it. She had failed to kill the beast.

A Meracydian Dragon had found its way to the outer reaches of Coerthas, and she had been tasked to track and kill it. A challenging job, even for her, but doable, she thought. That is until it proved surprisingly sturdy; her arrows nor axe could pierce the beast's hide. It had even been able to shrug off what magic she had thrown in its direction before it closed the distance between them and started lashing out with wicked claws and teeth that made quick work of her armour. Then came the lightning.

It did not take long for her to realise she was in over her head, so she retreated the first chance she got, using most of her food rations to distract the creature long enough to make an opening.

She wondered how long it would be before anyone noticed she was missing. She was still trying to repair things with many of the Scions after her...lapse in judgement. The power of a Dark Knight came with risks, many that she purposefully ignored until her other half decided it was time to take a bit more control over things. While she did not kill anyone while in that state, she had lashed out at the Scions, even coming to blows with Thancred.

She had no real recollection of what had happened, no idea of what was said or done. Injuries were minor, or so she was told, but Thancred still refused to look her in the eyes or be in her presence for overly long. The others also gave her a somewhat wide berth. Who could blame them? The fragile fantasy they had built around her that she was some fairytale figure come to save Eorzea, and the world beyond, crumbled around them like sand.

Perhaps it would be better if they never found her at all. Just another soul buried beneath the snow. Surely they could find another hero to replace her? It is not like she was a good one to begin with or the only one with the Echo.

It would be so, so easy to just...stop. So she did. She fell to her knees in the snow, her feet feeling as though they were encased in ice. Her teeth chattered, and her body trembled. She felt exhausted. She just wanted to rest, but a voice in her mind broke through the haze. Her voice. She sounded furious. Frightened. Desperate.

"Don't. You. Dare."

"We have not come this far to die now."

"If you keep up with this nonsense, I'll take over again just to shut you up."

"Get. Up."

She let out a strangled cry as she tried to move again, putting a hand on her side just beneath her ribs and was mildly confused when she felt something wet. Pulling her hand away, she saw her hand stained a deep crimson. Oh...another wound. A bad one. How had she missed that?

She swayed before falling to her side, crimson rivulets pouring from her wound and staining the snow beneath her; her hand still remained curled possessively around her axe. She could feel her mind and body slowing down, thoughts becoming muddled and confused. Even the ranting and raving of her shadow became little more than noise until all she could hear was the wind whistling overhead and the slowing of her own heartbeat. She closed her eyes and wavered in and out of consciousness.

Until that is, she thought she could hear someone calling her name. Then another, and another. Her daze is broken by someone grasping her by the shoulders, shaking her awake. Another throws something over her, a cloak?

She could make out the vague shapes of three people with white hair in her blurred vision, a Hyur, Miqo'te and an Elezen. The Hyur was holding her, half cradled to his chest; she could practically feel his rapid heartbeat next to her horn. The other two are already channelling healing spells into her broken body. They talk among themselves and at her, a panicked edge to their voices. Not that she responds, her mind can just about process what is happening.

A part of her does not believe this is real. Why would anyone come for her? This has to be a creation of her exhausted mind. A kind dream to send her off to her eternal sleep.

Another part hopes that it is real. Not because this means she will survive, but because it was preferable to the thought of dying alone.

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxiv write 2022 #ffxiv fanfiction #day 4

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the-pineapple-cake · 2 months

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ME (Myalgic Encephalomyelitis) and Depression

ME is a chronic illness that is quite complicated but for the sake of this rant we’re just going to talk about one symptom - fatigue. I’m not taking about being a bit tired after a long day of work, I’m talking about a bone deep exhaustion that sleep cannot get rid of.

ME and Depression is not the same thing. This is important to remember.

A lot of people with ME do also have Depression because being constantly exhausted and not being able to do anything (and I genuinely mean that, I’m not exaggerating. ME can leave people completely bed bound. I’m thankfully not that bad) is miserable and being miserable for extended periods of time is not good for your mental health.

I am lucky enough to have avoided getting depressed despite having had ME for over two years. But I know several people who have. I’m going to be taking about a specific individual, let’s call them A.

A has had ME since their early twenties (she is now in her late forties) although it wasn’t diagnosed until much later. When they were first ill, people assumed she had depression. This is incredibly common. Doctors often like to ignore ME or pretend it doesn’t exist. Long Covid (which in some, not all, cases is pretty much ME) is forcing more Doctors to acknowledge the existence of ME. It’s still a challenge and in this case happened decades before Covid so is insignificant.

One instance of Doctors not acknowledging ME is in B’s case. B was eight years old and when they went to the doctors because they had been very ill (ME). The Doctor in question told this child that they where making it all up and accused their parent of molly coddling them.

But back to the main topic of this rant, ME and Depression. A was assumed to have depression (I’m don’t think they were diagnosed with it but I might be wrong) and what is the ‘cure’ for depression? Forcing yourself to go and do things even when you don’t want to.

This is a terrible, terrible, terrible idea for someone with ME. It will make them get worse, and quickly. There are cases where people are diagnosed with ME early on and they can sometimes end up getting better. How you may ask? By listening to your body, when it tell you something is to much stopping. This is actually a good thing for everyone to do but for most it won’t have the consequence of being ill for the rest of your life. You also have to be very good at pacing, which is an indescribably horrible thing to have to do, but that’s a rant for another day.

So everyone assumed that A has depression and so get them to do the worst possible thing. A does have ME now (technically caused by having a persistent midrange for 6 months not ME, but it’s pretty much the same situation as someone who had depression caused by ME) and so the Doctor tells them to to Talking Therapy.

They do this Talking Therapy and what it tells them is , “You’re sad so you don’t do anything, and then you’re more sad because you didn’t do anything. Go and force yourself o do things even if you don’t want to,” I am paraphrasing extensively but that is the general gist of it. You couldn’t have told someone with ME something worse to do! That’s the most completely terrible advice you could possibly have given them!

Talking Therapy can be very helpful for a lot of people, it’s just a bad in this very rather unusual case.

Thank you for reading my rant, I have much more to say on the subject of ME but this is long enough.

Links:

#myalgic encephalomyelitis #long covid

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anvoo · 1 year

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16.05.2023

I'm sorry that I haven't been able to keep up with my journals the past few days, I was just a bit swamped with things.

Me and Cat's business really take up a big chunk of my mind space and energy, so at the end of the past few days I was simply really drained. I have this mindset/habit where I would just try to solve everything at once, right now, right here, pushing through no matter what. However, some things can't really be tackled like that; there's a time and a place, and sometimes time and distance from the issue I'm trying to tackle are exactly what I need.

I wanted some more closure with me and Cat's break, so I could have the peace of mind to move forward with my things, focused. There were definitely some tough moments, but I think we managed it fine. I haven't sent her a reply yet to her last voice message because it was quite late, and I'm frankly pretty drained and exhausted. I don't need and want to rush it either; I'll give my voice message reply the proper love, care, and respect that it deserves. It'll be a show of my love and my respect for Cat and for us.

I do realize that my insecurities, my wants for validation, and many of my other habits that I'm working on are still present and manifest into so many things (jealousy, overthinking, crazy emotions, rushing decisions, and everything,...) :c They affect my daily life, my well-being, and also my relationship with others. It's not like a tail I can just cut off, but a slow and gradual process. I won't hate or blame myself since it is simply "me", and I did the best the "me" at that moment could do. I do want to keep going and work on myself though :> I'm forgiving and loving myself along the way.

It's not an easy path, especially at the start, but I know that I'm a warrior, and I can face the challenges that life has to throw at me, and I can overcome them and come out on top. Negative thoughts and feelings come and go, and I don't expect them to just disappear, but I know that as long as I continue to work on myself, I'll be better equipped to deal with them. It'll go from a giant thunderstorm pouring down, to maybe just a few drops or two of rain ;)

Goodnight!

#journal #diary #self love #motivation #thoughts #love

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niamhsnaturelab · 1 year

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Week 5~ Nature Lab

(Tuesday)

So far, working with our group has been a challenge. With Ash leaving the course, Amie joining late and the lack of engagement from the majority of the group has started to create an impact on the group. Personally, a level of frustration has started to arise as not having a gap/ break of sorts between each module meant I went into the nature lab already feeling a bit beaten down and tired from having to manage the members in my group as well as complete the work. I feel as though me and Zoe are having to delegate small tasks to the others and then take on the majority of the work to ensure that it all gets done as the others are unreliable and don't have the same amount of motivation to achieve the higher level of results me and Zoe are looking for. Heading into this module with the knowledge of how my group has been engaging with the course definitely impacted my own motivation to strive for something as ambitious as our performance lab concept.

(late) powerpoint sustainability

as a group we began brainstorming ideas for our nature lab outcome. we showed each other the objects and resources we had gathered from Wyre forest to see if they gave us any inspiration. The two objects that sparked the most interest were Liz's small twig that had a complex structure and the mushroom that me and Zoe had gathered. From that, upon other ideas we had as a group, Zoe had the idea of basing our piece off of mycelium networks. I had never heard of mycelium before so was intrigued to find out how they work. Below is our thought process to how we landed on the mycelium idea. Next we started to think of ways of incorporating mycelium into a piece of art. We discussed a collaged group painting/ traditional art piece that would work as an exhibition installation. We also thought that we could use projection (taking inspiration from our last module) to add an element of creative tech to the piece.

Upon further research I found a definition for mycelium that matches what we will be basing this project around. "mycelium facilitate the transfer of nutrients from the soil into plant roots, and in turn receive carbon from the plant."

I also drew some very early concept ideas to visualise our thought process:

(Friday)

We had two texts to read for this week's discussion: the future with trees and why be a tree. I read why be a tree first and learnt quite a bit about trees and their way of living. I was surprised at how similar we are to trees in their way of sustaining their lives and the different ways/ styles of how they reproduce. Each tree has to take into their characteristics and adapt accordingly in order to survive. The mention of smaller plants occupying any blank area between trees was also peaked my interest as this relates to our nature lab concept of mycelium and how they aid in the tree's ecosystems.

The second extract "The future with trees" was more difficult for me to engage with. I find that articles on climate change can be exhausting in terms of content as, in my opinion, there isn't much you can do as an average person to create the change needed to stop or reverse climate change. I think for a meaningful change to happen, it needs to be the business men, CEOs and governments that produce the most CO2 and run down finite resources that need to be making changes. For this reason, I ended up just skimming the text and only making a few notes in the margin. A thought I had while reading this extract was in terms of how developed we are scientifically. If it is possible to grow a hamburger, why aren't we researching a way of altering trees genetically so that they are able to thrive in the environment we are headed towards?

Another important point I took from this chapter was the author's definition of progress. They say it should be measured by quality of life and not for example how advanced our technology is. While I agree with this, I also feel that the two go hand in hand, as long as the detriment to other factors do not outweigh the benefits.

For the Friday, my task was to create initial ideas for what the image on our collage will be. I got a little bit of feedback from Zoe and Amie on these but I was really looking for a bit more critique in order to make a final design. Here are my initial drawings:

This day had many difficulties in terms of working within our group. Liz and Zoe were unable to attend the session, Hemza arrived after lunch time and Amie left just before lunch. This meant it was difficult to make any progress within the project. I kept in contact with Zoe throughout the day as she was available to help make decisions and she had the idea to include the idea of decay into our project. She suggested we could use the water element to the piece to have a reveal to show a mycelium structure behind the painting. I had to initiate updating Amie on what we were doing as she had not been to the previous few sessions where we had been brainstorming. I attempted to suggest things for her to do to contribute to the project which was unsuccessful and I ended up completing myself (picking an organic shape for each collage piece instead of just having a5 pieces of paper).

I had my 1-1 with Sarah next and communicated my difficulties with her in terms of how my group was interacting with each other (lack thereof). She advised to just push on regardless so that is what I did. She also had a brief look at my blog to make sure I was on the right track and there didn't seem to be any issues there.

I then had a look through the images I had gathered from Wyre forest to look for inspiration for what to replace the A5 rectangles and settled on Ivy leaves as they have powerful creeping vines and is classed as a weed. I thought this would relate to fungi and the whole idea of mycelium and would make the overall piece look more connected. I then confirmed this with Zoe so moved forward and traced the image to get uniform shapes for all of the leaves.

Before Amie left, I mentioned grad+ week and she let me know that she wouldn't be able to attend due to her plans to go home. This was something that would've been useful to know as soon as she had made the arrangements but I was thankful to at least know now. She assured me that she will still be able to make the masks for our performance module while she was away. I ensured she didn't feel any pressure to take on this task as I wouldn't want her to take on a task that would take away from her time at home and is something that the group is able to complete.

After Hemza's arrival, I suggested that he should experiment with different types of paper to see which would be most suitable for having a water reveal (the paper would have to go transparent). We trialed paper towels, the thinnest paper we had access to in the studio, as well as blue roll tissue paper. while the paper towels and blue roll were more transparent after coming into contact with the water, we knew that we would be painting images over the top of these materials and found that the paint would bleed very easily. due to this, we decided to go for the thinner paper.

After Hemza had left, I had a group tutorial with both Lara and Sarah to help with idea generation for our project. The suggestions they gave on how to incorporate water into our outcome were a great starting point and we considered using real plants in our outcome, hydrochromic paint and toy water activated mats. I had the idea of having water monitors to detect water levels and potentially creating a circuit to pump the water around the piece. Sarah is working on a similar project at the minute so will have tubes and valves that we might be able to use as well.

I definitely left this session feeling defeated and frustrated as I want to be able to create the best outcome possible.

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spoke-n-languish · 1 year

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There’s a Monster at the Bottom of this Swamp

In one of the happy little nooks hidden deep inside my feelings-hole, I still nurture warm, cute & fuzzy cherished memories of when I was just a young child, my mother reading stories with me. One of our favorites (or, mine at least, your patience duly noted, Momp!) was a Sesame Street book called “There’s a Monster at the End of This Book!” featuring one luvable, cute and cuddly blue-furry friend, Grover. If you’re not familiar with the story, the premise is that Grover is becomes terrified of the impending monster after reading the title, and then devoted himself to trying to prevent you, the reader, from turning pages thereby bringing ever-closer the encroaching doom. So he tries tying the pages down, boarding them down with nails, bricking them up a la Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Cask of Amontillado”, et cetera… only to be thwarted time and again as I, filled with the cherub-like glee and effervescence that only the true innocence of youth can muster, would barely be able to wait for mom to finish reading the pages before joyfully giggling would foil whatever fortifications the fearful muppet had constructed and flip the page to hear his lamentations on the following page — something along the lines of, “Don’t turn it, nooooo… Did you know you are very strong?” ~~~~~ Spoiler alert~~~~~ (To everyone’s relief, Grover’s most of all, the penultimate titular monster at the end is revealed to be none other than Grover himself, phew, “…and you were so scared!”) How I delighted, turning those pages the flapping them over as quickly and as forcefully as i was allowed in good prudence. (Again, a heartfelt thank you is owed for your love and patience, Mom!!) But, the memory has taken a bit more of a bittersweet taste of late as I reflect on my current state of affairs, by which of course I refer to this latest salvo of crisis I find myself trying to survive the navigation of. {Pardon me here as I segue tangentially into another metaphor as is my preferred wont, but I do promise to circle back around by the end.}

I think it was Stephen Covey who described crisis management as trying to paddle a leaking raft through a swamp full of hungry alligators. You can avail yourself with great purpose toward bailing water out of the boat to keep from sinking. You can use the oars to swat at the threatening gators and keep them at bay. But, unless you designate some of your time and energy into putting those oars in the water and paddling, you will never survive let alone make it back to shore and safety. This is how I have lived most of my adult life, except I feel like in addition to these distresses, my raft bears a lower birth in the water because in addition to myself, I am trying to ferry my loved ones safely across and so bear the (admittedly self-imposed) responsibility of ensuring their protection and (because I do love to challenge myself) happiness as we drift across. So, I find myself singing an uplifting tune to keep moral up, allowing any who would prefer to climb up onto my shoulders to remain dry while using one hand to bail water, one hand to fend off gators, and the other hand frantically trying to row. Okay, so I’m not sure how that math checks out, but it explains why I feel exhausted all the time. For the record, I have not lost anyone to alligators nor drowning. But, I have not yet made it out of this bleak morass either, and (un)fortunately (depending on perspective) I have l allowed passing boats to extricate my passengers — I told my conscience that it was better this way. They would have better and safer odds, and it seemed this would lighten my burden thereby making my struggle less and increasing my own chances as well. But the loss of their moving on not only lightened the raft but also served to displace the fervor with which I had been keeping occupied. It is difficult to muster my (fifty-) second wind. Now I feel heavier and move more slowly as apparently my spirit took flight with my charges. It almost seems like I no longer have a reason to continue the struggle (which is how I have come to view what others refer to as life). It is the way I have always been… I will fight like a honey badger with no care for fatigue or injury to protect those I love, but when it comes to myself, I have a harder fight just mustering the will to defend myself. I cannot express adequately how deeply I yearn - how the wanting aches throughout my body for this chapter to be over. It is the counterpoint yin to that bubbly yang I felt as a child, but the desire is the same. All I seek now is to turn the page; to finally put this most arduous chapter behind me and progress to the next act of my life… hopefully one with fewer catastrophes. One where I may find a chance to put my feet once more upon solid ground and catch my breath. This is my new hope. {See, I told you I would pull it back around for the tie-in!}

~ and as for the swamp, I never quit… so I guess I’ll walk out if I have to!

#impossibledream #sharpen_saw #riddle211 #hortonhasthewh’ooze #nothingelsematters #£y6!7*736uv #turn-the-page-h6ε #Y #Always

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goaljoin2 · 1 year

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Get This Report on Foster a Cat

What Is Cat Fostering and Why Is It Important? Feline aficionados have constantly possessed a enthrallment along with being capable to eat a feline, and the Cat Fosters system is a good beginning to obtaining it off your spine so that you may receive to the end of your kitty's lifestyle. Fostering is the need to eat pussy-cats that are not too significant, or that they are close-up. It's likewise the desire to have healthy and feline pals. What Is Cat Fostering and Why Is It Crucial? Pet cat lovers have regularly possessed a enthrallment along with being capable to eat a pet cat, and the Cat Fosters course is a really good start to obtaining it off your spine so that you may get to the end of your cat's lifestyle. Fostering is the need to eat pussy-cats that are not also big, or that they are close-up. It's likewise the desire to have healthy and feline friends. You’ve viewed the word “encouraging” tossed about a whole lot lately, and you perhaps know someone that is carrying out it – but what exactly does it imply to nurture a pussy-cat? Listed below is the tale for you, with a little background. In the spring season of 2014, two pet cats were being fed at the kitty shelter for five years and ultimately discovered a loving property in a small-town, but otherwise plain community in Northern Virginia. A foster property is a bridge coming from a pet cat’s past life to their brand new lifestyle with a for good family members. Along with pet taxi bangalore and an experienced and healthy foster care team, our foster houses have the information to support their family members in their houses and cultivated homes. When a married couple decides on an flat, adoption need to be the 1st measure in your adoption procedure. Our personnel has been qualified by qualified caregivers to supply a well-defined care objective.

Promoting a pussy-cat suggests that you operate along with a sanctuary or rescue company as a volunteer and you open your soul and home to a kitty in demand. Many kitty rescue institutions give this type of financing. This kind of funding permits you to possess a really good relationship along with anyone who require help, whether it's a lost kitty, a missing out on pet dog, someone who is in necessity or you've only been overwhelmed along with stress. As a foster moms and dad, you deliver a cat right into your residence for a limited amount of time and play a primary function in aiding that pussy-cat to be ready for adoption. When a foster parent goes by means of a separation, they take a job in aiding along with various other social capabilities that participate in a part in their house life. They function closely with your residence treatment group in purchase to help cultivate and adopt your pussy-cat as effectively as other local area animals. An setting that really feels like home instead of a sanctuary, is often greatest for felines. A lot of felines, and also many cats that seem to be a little bit of exhausted, are pleased if they are used to their surroundings (just like our pussy-cats), as opposed to a space where someone will certainly offer them some personal privacy. It is feasible to keep your pet cat as a'safe', but it is usually that you will certainly really feel awkward sleeping in your own residence or your kitty. Felines, like folks, require a area to really feel risk-free; a place where they can permit their protection down and unwind, where they don’t have to worry regarding where the following meal will definitely happen from, what various other creature may test them in the evening, or if they will be hot and dry out. Pets will certainly take these hints from you and what you have. Creatures require to be said to what to perform regarding how to work along with their anxieties or challenges. Numerous kitties have been ignored or abused and don’t understand what a loving residence really feels like. This has actually to be a place where they experience safe, they take care of themselves, they don't look after themselves or others, they are never ever on your own in a area, or they fail to remember to leave behind dogs. Some pussy-cats are misused through their proprietors. They're kept up as victims by their owners, and their loved ones. This is an additional technique the federal government can threaten social improvement as well as the human reason. Foster loved ones help them discover what it’s like to eat, rest and participate in in a risk-free room. When I get into trouble along with a pal, they take a appearance at our face to observe if that's a brand-new account. In the situation of my mother, seeing a brand-new face in a space-saving way—a major box—becomes tough work. It isn't merely for folks who require that aid. It's likewise for the little ones who need to have it.

#cat boarding near me #cat sitting #cat boarding bangalore #cat fostering

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applewerk · 2 years

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It happened to me when I was least expected! It’s on the 12 August when I came back later and here I have a dipstick looking apparatus flashing before my eyes, I thought it was some kinda joke initially but to my inexplicable joy, it was the greatest thing ever! I became a dad and I’ve absolutely no words for this moment I grasped.

We wanted a kid for approximately 9.5 years and it seems like yesterday still that my mind is in indefinite awe! I still can’t believe that we are not parents to this little precious potato. We called it potato because of the app where it indicates the growth and the estimated size so for about 9 weeks now, it’s the size of a small potato.

Our OBGYN has officially declared our status as new parents during the last visit with another round of ultrasound scan. There’s so much running through my mind since then.

Of course we were glad we had some names previsto choose from and what worries me was the growth of this little one. Is he or she going to be healthy? Will there any complications? It’s only natural and besides it’s a precious little gift we have been hoping for.

I only shared with a couple of friends. But eventually everyone will learn about the news. I really hope I can go on in the current work and aiming to semi-retire when I turned 50 or 52? The time where I can dedicate time to spend more not only on myself but also this new child gifted to us. I really hope I can support the kid as long as I possibly could, to watch him or her grow into her adulthood. And settled down at the end of the day.

It seems a little too old but it better late than never eh? I really don’t know why else to expect other than to be readily facing what comes my way. And touching a little bit on work? It has been mentally hectic, exhausting and stressful. This I’m not gonna lied. I’ve gotta do everything and anything from editing, design, networking, planning, all the way to shooting photos and filming. It never seems to end, it’s only the beginning really

Team is also not helping but giving me tons of problems. Managing people is hell of a problem and taxing. They’re so unreliable, and can get pretty unreasonable for most of it. Maybe I’m too soft? But I told myself to simply suck it up and move on as far as I can. Until the day comes for me to wrap all of this up and really have my life.

I still have my goal crystal clear, to get out of here and start a life in BC or at the very least in Perth or something. Surely there’s better options and opportunities ain’t it? Life here is getting worse, struggling to meet the ends seems like a mind fuck torture. Everything seems to increase but not the wages, not the sales.

Well, I guessed this is it. Hold on and face the challenges that’s coming my way. The good thing I’m relieved for now is I’m definitely doing better than the pre-COVID situation. Financially sort of stable and making small steps to progress for the end game. I guessed everything happened for a reason and just keep looking forward. Looking forward to seeing my little one safe and sound.

#desire #dreams #love canada #newborn #new beginnings #new parents #end game #I’m a daddy now

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spookydrreid · 3 years

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary: Flirting with then men at the bar gets you exactly what you want...

Category: SMUT (MINORS DNI)

Requested: Yes

Full request: "Head full of thoughts about mean!dom!reid being super rough with reader after she flirted with someone to make him mad- like spit, hair pulling, degrading, throwing her around a bit, all of the nice spicy works we love so much. But then giving so much aftercare and calling her his good, pretty, little girl and telling her how much he loves her whilst giving her a bath" - anon

Requests are open!

Content Warnings: flirting, jealous!Spencer, d/s dynamic, ownership, spanking (with belt), hair pulling, spitting, kissing, degradation, some praise, daddy kink, pet names, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare. [Let me know if I missed anything]

Word count: 3.1k

...

Going out was rare for Spencer and I.

Spencer wasn’t a huge fan of bars and clubs, complaining of all the germs they breed. Not to mention that planning said night out was made almost impossible by Spencer’s job. He was gone a lot, catching the bad guys and doing his best to keep this world safe.

But after a rough case, the team decided a night out was needed. So, that’s why I’m standing at the bar, Spencer’s credit card in hand, waiting for the bar tender to notice me. And while my mind should’ve been focused on getting said bar tender’s attention, I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering to the man I showed up with.

Around his friends, Spencer was the quiet kind. Sweet and reserved for the most part. But in bed or with me, he was a very different man. See, Spencer craved control as it was something he lacked in a large majority of his life. Before me, he found that control in his work, studying and putting away the people who did the unspeakable.

But now, he found the control in me.

To most, that sounds terrible; letting your fiancé control almost every aspect of your life. But to me, it was amazing. He made the choices for me within the barriers we’d set. He cared about how I felt, constantly asking me if I was still okay with his control. And I was. He was soft a large majority of the time. I made sure to keep him on his toes, though. Testing to see how far I could push the boundaries. And tonight, was no different.

Dr. Reid had been giving me a little attitude lately. I knew it was because he was stressed, they were running from state-to-state catching killer after killer. It was exhausting and I knew that. Normally, he would use me to relieve that stress. But my dom, has been slacking. Instead of using me like the slut I am, he settled for quickies.

Now, let’s not get things confused here. I didn’t expect him to fuck me senseless every day, three times a day. I wasn’t delusional. But I did miss it. So, I decided if I wanted him to fuck me till I cried, I needed to make him mad. Spencer wasn’t typically an easy person to piss off. I was a brat, but he was patient. Not soft by any means, just patient.

But one thing he really was? Jealous. Spencer was incredibly jealous and I knew why. He was always the one to be picked last and if he liked a girl, she was almost always stolen from him by another ‘more attractive’ guy. So, he was possessive.

“You are way to pretty to not be here alone.” The pick up like makes me subtly roll my eyes. When were men going to get more creative? But I look over to the source of the noise and put on my prettiest smile.

He’s cute, I’ll give him that. But he definitely wasn’t Spencer Reid. “Aw that’s so sweet of you!” I giggle a little. It’s then that I catch Spencer intently watching me, glass being squeezed tightly as he watches me. We lock eyes and he raises his brows, challenging me to continue.

“So, what are you drinking?” He scoots a little closer and I can smell that he’s doused himself in cologne. It practically chokes me but I smile and try to inch away from him. I wanted to make spencer mad but I didn’t want to actually touch this slimy man who looked like he could roofie me.

“A Cosmo.” As if on cue the drink appears in front of me. I smile and just as I’m about to pay, the man beside me interjects.

“Pretty ladies don’t pay for their own drinks” it makes me want to punch him in the face. But I thank him and let him spend the $6 on me. More money is Spencer’s pocket after all. “What’s your name?” Ah, the age-old question. But it was one I didn’t get to answer.

“Bunny,” his hand wraps around my waist and he pulls me in. I can feel the butterflies erupt in my stomach at his touch. His little pet name making my heart race. He barely ever called me by my real name anymore, but I love it that way.

I smile up at him, “hi, baby.” I can tell he’s pissed but I bat my lashes at him anyway, playing innocent.

“Thought you were here alone,” Mr. drink buyer asks all in a huff. He’s the alpha type and I know the idea of someone like me being obedient to someone like Spencer would make him laugh.

I shrug, “I never directly said anything except what I was drinking.” I sip my free drink with raised eyebrows. But I don’t get more than a sip in before it’s being placed back on the bar by my pissed off fiancé.

“And she also never directly asked you to talk to her.” He pauses “or buy her a drink. Or talk to her. So, thank you but we’re going.” He grabs my hand and starts walking.

But I plant my feet and put on my best whining voice, “aww but daddy! I’m having fun!” I know just about every person directly around me heard what I said. But I will never see these people again, nor do I care what they think.

His hand wraps tightly around my bicep, his fingers causing delicious pain. “I don’t give a fuck. Dig your grave, bunny. You’re already in enough trouble.” I try to hide the smirk on my face. But I’m excited. I want him to be rough. I want bruises in the shape of his hands that makeup won’t be able to cover, and stay for weeks.

“You’re a fucking pussy,” I say as I try and pull my arm from his grasp. I know that I have a smug look on my face, and I also know that he has caught on to the game I am playing.

His eyes darken but he says nothing. Instead, he throws me over his shoulder, slapping my ass before carrying me out of the bar. I wave at the team as we walk by them, Morgan’s jaw dropped in shock and Garcia cheering us on.

I was put back on my feet once we reached the car. Spencer’s body boxing me in. He was the hunter and I was his rabbit. Though, I wasn’t afraid of him. I was excited. I couldn’t wait for him to sink his teeth into my neck and claim me as his.

“Get in the fucking car,” he practically growled at me as he opened the door.

I giggled, “ooooh so scary, daddy! But what if I just…. Didn’t?” I blinked at him with as much innocence as I could muster. But he didn’t buy it.

“Bunny! Get in the fucking car or so help me God- “

I interrupted him, something he hated more than anything, to make a point “you don’t believe in God. So, you saying that makes your statement less scary.”

He shoves me in the car, buckling me and slamming the door before I have time to make another smart remark. The pit forms in my stomach as I watch him walk around the car. He’s angry, jealous and he wants to kill me. Metaphorically of course, but he wants to fuck me dead. I can’t stop the small feeling of guilt that I might have pushed him too far. But he had safe words and he knew he could use them the same as I.

The drive home was silent but the tension was anything but. His hand gripped my thigh, and I was soaking my panties the entire drive home. He was beautiful always, but even more so when he was mad. There was just something about the redness of his face, and the way his veins became more prominent. It only served to make me wetter.

“I like when you’re jealous. S’cute.” I say as he parks in his typical spot at our apartment.

“I don’t like when you play games. It’s not cute.” His tone is clipped and cold, his hand removing from my thigh.

I roll my eyes, digging my grave deeper and deeper, “are you saying I’m not cute? Hurtful.” I put on my best pout in the hopes he would feel bad for me. Spoiler? He didn’t feel bad.

“No. I’m not saying that and you know that. Go. Ready position and if you even think about bitching… I swear bunny.” Any smart ass remark I was going to make died on my tongue with the tone he gave me.

‘Ready position’ was something we’d agreed on. It wasn’t the most comfortable position on the planet but it let him see all of me as he entered the room. Well, the most intimate part of me. It consisted of me on my stomach, knees under me at a 90-degree angle, my knees spread and my hands under me and grabbing my ankles.

When he’d given me the position, I’d never felt more exposed. But in the absolute best way possible. It let him see how wet I was for the beating that was about to take place. But it prevented me from moving or speaking in un-mumbled sentences. I can’t exactly explain why, but it made me feel like he owned me. And he did… Spencer Reid owned every part of me, from my mind, to my heart, to my pinky toe.

I undressed as I walked through our apartment, leaving a little trail of my clothing like breadcrumbs to follow. I was unbelievably soaked and ready to take the punishment he was about to dish out.

Spencer trusted me with everything inside him. Six years of me pushing men off of me who clung on worse than static, proved that. But though he knew I wouldn’t ever pursue anyone else, his jealousy persisted. But I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing. Most of the time it led us to intense scenes and the roughest sex out there.

I grabbed my ankles just as I heard the front door close with a small creek. I was practically vibrating with excitement and dripping with need. I was also nervous at the pain that was to come, but I knew he wouldn’t ever hurt me beyond my limits.

I can’t see him from my position on the bed, but I know he’s there. His scent fills the room, old books and cinnamon. It’s one of my favorite scents. “Wow. Seems my whore knows how to listen.” I hadn’t been given permission to speak, so I nodded instead.

He gets closer to me, his delicious scent igniting my insides. I keep my eyes straight ahead, not daring to turn my head before permission is given. He runs his fingertips up the back of my thigh before a cupping my ass with a flat hand. Flames follow the path his fingers had taken, my skin turning into ash in their wake. And before I can even process his hand leaving me? It returns, snapping against my skin. The sound echoes through the room and a gasp leaves my lips. The sting is delicious and I can’t wait for him to do it again.

Except he doesn’t.

His fingers, instead, continue their assent up my spine. Again, it’s just the tip of them, the touch feather light. More skin turns to ash at his touch. I want more. I want it all. And I want it to hurt. Bad.

He stops when he gets to my neck, taking his hands away completely. I miss his touch but I know better than to beg. If I did, he would give me the opposite of what I want.

“So fucking perfect,” he mutters more to himself than to me. But it doesn’t stop the butterflies from erupting in my tummy. “Do you know why I’m going to be punishing you, little bunny?”

I keep my mouth shut. Sure, he asked me a question, but I didn’t have explicit orders to speak. I hear his belt clink. And then I hear it hit my ass, causing me to yelp in surprise. “Asked you a question.”

I gulp “I didn’t know if I had p-permission to speak.”

He hits me again on the other cheek and rips a soft moan from my chest, “answer me.”

The belt comes down harder, this time on my thighs, “ah! B-because I flirted with another guy.”

Smack “And?” he asks drawing out the vowel.

Smack smack “Fuck! A-and for accepting the drink. And f-for talking back! Ah!” This time the belt hits my engorged clit. It hurts, but in the sweetest way.

I can hear his breathing pick up as he hits me even harder “you’re mine. My whore. My slut. I own you.” He hits me with each statement to emphasize his words. I let out a choked sob by the end of it.

“I’m s-sorry daddy. I w-won’t do it again. I promise. Just… please” I want him to fuck me. I want it so bad it almost hurts. And I am surprised when I hear the rustling of clothes and feel the bed dip by my feet.

The tip of his hard cock run through my slick cunt, bumping my hard clit and making me moan, “please what bunny? What do you want?”

I’m panting with need, my mind slowly slipping with each slow movement through my core. “I want you to fuck me.” I manage to choke out.

The head of his cock presses against my hole and I try to push back, but his hand grips my ass and prevents me from moving. “Yeah? Do you deserve it?” He asks.

I sigh “N-no? but I want it so bad, daddy! Please! Can’t you feel how wet I am for you? S’all for you!”

He hums and I know I’ve convinced him. He slams into me, not giving me time to adjust before continuing his quick pace. His hips slam into my bruised ass and thighs. The pain only serving to make me wetter as he took claim over my body.

“It’s cute when you try to make me jealous by flirting with other men.” He reaches down to grab my hair, pulling me up enough that I’m forces to let go of my ankles. “I fucking own you, bunny. No one can make you feel the way I do.”

I whine at his words. He’s right. No one will ever make me feel like he does. Not a shot in hell. What Spencer and I had was something I’d never felt with anyone. He was my best friend, my master, my owner. And I was his bunny, his submissive. We fit together like pieces fit in a puzzle, made for each other.

“N-no one, daddy. M’yours…” I was getting close and I knew that he could hear it in my voice. He pulls out which swiftly causes a “wait!” to fall from my lips. I felt empty and full at the same time that’s to my arousal.

“Relax, bunny. You’ll get what you want. Lay on your back.” He slaps the side of my ass and I yelp as I roll over.

Spencer was always beautiful, but I found him most attractive when his eyes were blown with lust. His hair tussled in every which way and sweat on his brow. Those were the moments that I felt like I was staring at a work of art. Because that’s what he was, art. I swore he was handcrafted; beauty only an artist could create.

He kisses me for the first time and my body warms with delight. He tastes like whisky and Spencer. I’m infatuated with all that he is as he sinks back inside me. “God, you feel so fucking good bunny” he whines. His hand runs up the curves of my body before setting on my cheeks and squishing them together before he spits into my mouth. “Swallow it.” I do without a second thought.

His pace is rough and brutal. His cock slamming into my cunt like it was the last time. The pain ever delicious. “Such a dirty fucking slut, aren’t you?”

I nod, “yes, daddy. I-fuck- I’m a dirty fucking slut. Oh, god I’m so close!” I can feel the pressure building between my hips and I pray he doesn’t make me wait. I need the orgasm like I need air in my lungs.

“Cum for me… let me watch you come undone.” It sends me over with a loud moan, my hands gripping his biceps as I cum around his cock. That seems to be his undoing, filling me up as he chants my name over and over.

“Daddy!!” he slows, dragging out our orgasms as long as possible. I’m exhausted but utterly satisfied. The smile on my face seems to make him happy as a small chuckle leaves him.

“Do you want a bath, my bunny?” I nod, breathless and unable to speak for the moment. I feel him pull out of me, helping me to stand on shaky legs as he helps me to the bathroom and fills the tub.

He gets in first, leaning against the back of the tub and reaching out to for my hand. I take his and carefully step in, leaning my back to his chest and letting the warm water wrap envelope me. His arms do the same, snaking around my waist as his lips find my shoulder. I hum in contentment when he leaves little butterfly kisses over them.

“You’re my best girl you know that?” I love sex, don’t get me wrong. But there is nothing compared to the sweet nothings he whispers to me when were done. “Just the best little girl.”

I feel my face grow warm as he talks, ever the glutton for praise, “thank you, daddy.” My mind is fuzzy but I am on cloud nine.

“Did so good for me… following my orders. I love you so much.” He’s right by my ear and I feel the goosebumps form as his lips hit the shell of my ear.

I sigh happily, turning my face to kiss him softly “I love you most, Spencer Reid.”

...

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