#I think I just got myself to the point of exhaustion this term and this was supposed to be my last big ‘work’ thing before

[waugh-bao]

*

[christhopersturniolo]

୨ HOCKEY PROBLEMS ୧

summary: you have been having some problems in your relationship with Chris, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t loves you.

notes: this is my first time writing a fanfic, I've always wanted to create one since 2020. english isn't my first language, it's probably not very detailed and there might be some mistakes, so don't expect too much lol. but give me feedback tho, l'd love to know what you think!

warnings: sexual assault, cussing, fluff, about three thousand words I think.

୨୧

My relationship with my boyfriend Chris is not the best. Well, at least, not now.

Lately we’ve been arguing all day long over stupid things, like who gets the last slice of pizza, or who gets the last word in a discussion. And it always ends in the same way. Silent treatment, from both sides. But it's not like Chris or I enjoy it. Most nights, I hear him in the bathroom, where he spend hours in tears. It’s horrible and makes me feel like a piece of shit. Hearing him cry only adds to my own feelings of guilt.

And how do we make things up? Sex, over and over. He would fuck the attitude out of me if he had to.

Me and Chris made a pinky promise that I would never miss any of his Hockey games. And I never did, cause i know how much my presence is important to him. And especially cause we are always in good terms the days before any of his games, but not today, we just argued again about nothing, we haven't talked for the past two days.

Nick and Matt, Chris's brothers, usually text me and offer to pick me up for Chris's games, but this time, their texts never came. It’s like they knew how our relationship was going. Chris definitely told them something.

Now you see myself driving to the arena where he plays in, the game is about to start in 20 minutes, and with this traffic, I don’t know if I will be there in time.

Red sign for the past 5 minutes. I have cars in front of me, behind me and next to me. Fuck. I start getting anxious. My nerves are on edge. I bit my nails subconsciously, the habit I got from my dad. My leg starts shaking. I can’t mess up things even more, I gotta be there, I have to be there.

After what feels like an eternity stuck in traffic, the car in front of me finally starts moving. I let out a sigh of relief as I find a parking spot. After that, I enter the venue where Chris plays (Which wasn’t that big, cause he plays in a small team in our city.)

Before taking a seat I scan the crowd anxiously, searching for any familiar faces, no one, I can’t find anyone, not even his two brothers. “Fuck it” I mumble to myself and I just get in a seat with some random people next to me.

The game is about to start, the crowd is already cheering. The players are drinking water and getting ready to get in the rink. My eyes examine each one of them, looking for Chris, number three. He was with a serious face. ‘Are he’s eyes red?’ I think to myself as I narrow my eyes, my vision is bad as shit, but I can tell he’s eyes are all puffy. He has some big dark circles underneath his pretty blue eyes, he looks fucking exhausted, It was evident that he was crying just now.

The players finally begin to take to the ice, their skates gliding across the surface as they prepare for the game to begin.

On Chris's team, there are six talented players, used to winning every single game. However, this time, they were against a really good team. Chris hated that team. I hated that team. Well, not really the team, but one of the players: Cam, Cameron.

Cam is a completely fucking jerk, in college he would always try to hit on me, but I’ve never really went with his face, what would get on his nerves, especially when I started dating Chris. It went to the point where he would force me to have intimate things with him. He was the worst human alive, and I would do anything to see him dead.

FLASHBACK

I just had PE, finding myself alone in the girls locker room as I change clothes. The sound of the front door opening echoed, followed by quiet footsteps creeping up behind me, sending shivers down my spine. I try to ignore it.

As I slipped my shirt back on, I felt two hands grip the sides of my hips, and a warm breath brushed against my neck. I freeze for two seconds. I know this is not Chris. Without thinking, I instinctively push the hands away and I turn around quickly, only to come face to face with Cameron.

I glare at him, my heart racing with a mix of fear and anger. His smirk widens as he takes a step closer, invading my personal space. "What's the rush, sweetheart?" He whispers, his voice dripping with arrogance.

I take a step back feeling the wall behind me getting closer "What are you even doing here? Get the fuck away from me, Cameron" I say firmly, trying to sound like i’m not scared, but the reality is that I’m pissing my pants.

He chuckles like he’s making fun of me, his eyes glinting with malice. "Or what? You'll tell your precious boyfriend Chris?" He teases, moving closer until I can feel his breath on my face. grabbing my waist and pinning them against the wall. "Come on, babe, you know you want it as much as I do.." he affirms, leaning in to kiss me, touching his lips on mines.

“Get the fuck away!” I whisper yell as i try to punch him away but he grabs my wrists. I struggle against his hold, but his grip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin, definitely leaving red marks.

I don’t know what to do. I can’t move. I start panicking. This is my end.

Tears blur my vision as I plead "Cameron, stop!" My voice trembles with fear as he kisses me, his lips rough and demanding against mine. Each kiss is a painful reminder of my vulnerability. Each kiss feels like a violation. I feel dirty, tainted by his touch everywhere in my body. A wave of nausea churns in the pit of my stomach as I try to move him away from me.

"Stop fucking fighting, you are not getting away from me" He murmurs against my lips "You deserve this, you want this.” I try to move as he keeps pinning me "You think I don’t see the eyes you give me when I walk by? Huh slut?" He scoffs, his hot breath against my face. "You were begging for this."

“I wasn’t begging for any of this. I never gave him any ‘eyes,’ he’s fucking delusional!” I think to myself, but my words remain trapped in my throat, suffocated.

As his lips travel down to my neck, leaving a trail of unwanted kisses, I can’t do anything more than start crying and screaming, kicking my legs and arms.

I never went back to those lockers again.

END OF THE FLASHBACK

I hated him so fucking much, and Chris did even more. And now, they are about to compete against each other.

The moment Chris stepped onto the rink, I could see his eyes looking for someone known on the crowd. Desperately, I raised my hand and waved, hoping he would spot me. And he did. His face automatically softened into a gentle smile, erasing some of the tension that had been weighing on me, but he was still with his tired eyes.

The game started with an intensity that matched the tension in the air. Both teams were determined to win. Cameron eyes were burning with rage. At this point, they weren’t competing as a team, it wasn’t about the game, it was about their personal life.

As the game progressed, the rivalry between them two escalated. They began to argue on the ice, each vying for control of the puck with increasing aggression.

Chris managing to gain possession of the puck and score two goals in less than five minutes. But Cam, folded by his own anger, refused to back down. Without thinking he charged towards him at full speed. Cameron swung his stick, causing Chris to trip and fall hard onto the ice.

“What the fuck is he doing?” I say out loud as I get up from my seat to get a better view. Chris remained on the ground for what felt like an eternity, clearly in pain. Every player on the ice stopped and looked around confused without knowing what to do, but not Cameron. He keeps going with the puck in direction to make a goal, with a visible smile on his lips. But then he notices how everyone really stopped and he slows down too, annoyed, not showing any regret.

The thing is, my boyfriend is in a fetal position on the ice, unable to move and no one is doing anything about it? That’s not happening, not with Chris. Without a second thought, I get up from my seat, whispering apologies to those I brushed past as I made my way to the rink. Ignoring the stares and comments from the crowd, I stepped onto the ice, my focus solely on reaching Chris. I get in the rink. I don’t give a shit about who’s watching me.

Kneeling beside Chris. His nose was bleeding, he looked pale and disoriented. Gently, I placed a hand on his shoulder, my voice trembling with concern. "Chris" I whisper, my voice shaking "Are you okay? Please look at me..” I beg in a desperate tone

Chris struggled to respond, his voice barely above a whisper as he fought through the pain "Y-Yeah.. I’m fine.." His eyes half-closed in discomfort.

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps drew my attention, and I glanced up to see some of the players from both teams getting around us, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern. Sensing the seriousness of the situation, a few of them hurried off to get help, while others stood by, unsure of what to do.

“Is he okay?” One of Chris's teammates asked as he knelt beside me, his voice filled with worry.

My anxiety spiked at the sight of Chris's condition, and I couldn't help but let my frustration show. "No, he’s not!" I replied, my voice unintentionally louder than intended. "Don’t you guys have nurses or some kind of medical staff here?!"

The teammate glanced back at me, his expression uncertain. "Yeah, I’m pretty sure they're on their way, don’t worry, he will be fine” He said sounding unsure.

I gently place Chris head on my lap, whispering sweet and calming words on his ear while we wait for someone help us. What I was saying was comforting me more than Chris.

Finally the arena's medical staff arrived, urging us to clear the area around Chris. They place him on a stretcher and wheeling him out of the rink. As they took Chris away, I followed closely behind them, my steps quickening to keep pace with their hurried movements. "Hey, excuse me," I called out to one of the workers, my voice tinged with desperation "Is it okay if I stay with him?" But they seemed way too focused on their task, ignoring me completely as they rushed Chris to a small emergency room they had here, leaving me behind on the hallway, my heart pounded with worry and frustration. But before I could even process what was happening, a familiar voice cut through the silence. I turn around,

Cameron.

"Look who it is" He says, his gaze fixated on me with an unsettling intensity. "Never thought I'd see you here, playing the concerned girlfriend” He chuckles.

My blood boiled at his words, the memories of his unwanted advances and aggressive behavior flooding back with nauseating clarity. "You're sick, Cameron." My voice trembling with rage “You can’t even stand losing a fucking game, you are insane.” I stay some seconds in silence before talking again "You better stay the hell away from me and Chris."

Cameron's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he reveled in my discomfort. "Or what?" He teases, taking a step closer "You gonna hit me? Huh?” He talks in a mocking way

I raised my hand and delivered a good slap on his left cheek, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. "I fucking hate you!" I yell, my voice trembling with rage as I glared at him with undisguised contempt.

Before Cameron could react, the sound of approaching footsteps coming in our attention, and I glanced up to see some of Chris's teammates rushing towards us, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.

"What's going on here?" The same blonde guy with a four in his shirt asks, his voice tinged with urgency as he eyed Cameron with suspicion.

"Nothing," he muttered, attempting to regain his composure, "I was just.. checking on Chris. But the workers said we have to wait, and unfortunately, I've got somewhere else to be." Cameron lies, fuck he’s good at lying.

He gets closer to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it gently. “I hope he gets better” He said in a fake nice tone, like he means it, I move his hand away from me, making him get slightly angry again, he leaves. I watch him go, feeling a sense of relief wash over me knowing that he was finally out of here.

Turning back to Chris's teammate, I say “Anyways..” I take a deep breath “I will just wait here until they say something”

The blonde one nods understanding. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan to me” He replies, his voice filled with sympathy “So, the game was canceled, and we got shit to do, so we can’t really wait here”

“Yeah sure, no problem, I understand” I respond, I try to sound so nice as he is sounding “I'll make sure Chris texts you guys after he leaves the room.”

Chris's teammate nodded appreciatively and they all began to leave to the same direction as Cameron. I sit into a chair next to the door where Chris was, my mind racing thinking about Chris.

Some good ten minutes after, one of the workers is leaving the room, I look up at him, catching his attention. “Excuse me,” I begin, my voice laced with anticipation “can I see Chris?”

He nods, offering a small smile. “Of course, go ahead” He replies kindly before disappearing down the hallway.

Before I enter the room, I take a few deep breaths to control my anxiety. Knocking gently on the door, I slowly open it. He was sitting in a long bench with elastic bandage on his ankle and wrist. Chris's eyes light up at the moment he sees me and a warm smile spreads across his face.

“Shit Chris, I just slapped Cameron in the face!” I say as I close the door behind me. Chris immediately starts laughing. his laugh is contagious. I sit down next to him. “You did not” He keeps laughing

“What’s so funny? I’m being serious” I chuckle, feeling the tension ease from my mind as Chris's laughter fills the room.

"I'm sorry, babe" he says between laughs "But when was that?”

“Literally like fifteen minutes ago! Gosh he’s so fucking annoying! And did you see the way he literally made you fall on purpose? I could break his face right now” I say in a dramatic tone, making him laugh even more.

“Anyways he doesn’t matter..” I look around thinking about what to say “So what did the nurses say?”

Chris's laughter subsides as he leans back against the bench, his expression growing more serious “Nothing much.. I just sprained my foot and my wrist, but nothing much”

“Nothing much?!” I say slightly shocked with his words.

Chris chuckles softly, shaking his head at my reaction. "Okay, maybe it's a bit more than 'nothing much,' but I'll survive" He says with a reassuring smile, though I can see the pain behind his eyes.

I gently reach his injured hand, my thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of his hand. "I'm just glad it's nothing too serious," I say softly, my voice filled with genuine concern. "But still, I can't believe Cameron did that to you! He's such a pussy!" My last sentence makes Chris laugh again.

As I watch him, a sense of relief washes over me, knowing that despite everything, we are still able to find humor in the situation.

Some minutes talking until the silence fills back the room. We are definitely both thinking about the argument we had days ago, cause we didn’t talked since.

“I.. I wasn’t expecting for you to watch the game today” Chris says slightly looking down.

I stay in silence for some seconds “Listen, Chris" I begin, my voice soft but determined "About the arguments we've been having lately.. I know things haven't been the best.. But..” I sigh “But I still care about you, and I always will.”

Chris looks up at me, his eyes softening with emotion as he listens to my words. "I care about you too" He says, his voice filled with sincerity. "I hate that we've been arguing so much, especially over stupid shit.. I just.. I don't want to lose you.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I reach out to gently cup his cheek. "You're not going to lose me, Chris." I assure him. My thumb brushing over his skin affectionately.

He gently buries his face on the crook of my neck, I lay my chin on the top of his head, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.

"I'm sorry for everything," Chris murmurs against my skin. "I don't want us to keep fighting like this."

Now I run my fingers through his hair, feeling a sense of peace settle over us. "I'm sorry too.." My voice sounding like a whisper. "Let's try to work through this together, okay?" He nods softly.

I kiss his head “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He answers quietly.

୨୧

hey, this is the end! i hope you have enjoyed it, if u saw any miss spelling or anything tell me in the comments, please.

also, i think it got kinda confusing cause i was using words on the past and in the present, but idk 😭😭

[headspace-hotel]

How am I going to work for a living when being around other people, moving between different environments and expectations, or being exposed to noise for more than 3-4 hours a day makes me so exhausted it's challenging to perform basic self-care tasks, and pushing past that makes this condition worse, and doing that frequently creates long-term spillover that impairs my functioning for a much longer period

The psychologist who diagnosed me with autism insisted that I could become desensitized to noise through exposure, but it's been almost 10 years and I've never been able to increase my tolerance to stimuli even temporarily, only dramatically decrease it through, I guess, the cumulative effect of exhaustion.

The last semester in school I was having anxiety attacks every single day the first week, and from there I just...limped. I never got to the point where I felt okay and could think beyond just surviving the next day.

I would go to work and basically just, screw around hoping I wasn't in the way too much, because I could not move myself to think on the level of problem-solving and work on projects I wanted to accomplish, I was just too exhausted. I didn't meet any new friends. I didn't go to a single non-required event, even though I wanted to. My mom would ask me if I was enjoying my classes and I would be like..."I don't know." I was often too tired even to play Minecraft.

And I didn't read or write any fiction, even though my love of doing so used to be the fundamental part of my identity.

I kept getting extremely dehydrated and having scary symptoms and being unable to figure out what was wrong. I remember feeling certain that I was starting to get sick/run a fever at many different points throughout the semester, and then I would keep going and feel like 10% better and after a few days it would be clear that I wasn't sick and I wasn't going to become sick nor would I get significantly better quickly. I was sleeping a LOT—like I would be too tired to stay awake by 11:30pm, which is seriously unusual for me and usually means I'm getting sick, and yet I overslept my classes more times than I could count. I felt sure I had some sort of infection or something for the last couple weeks, and then when I came home for the holidays, everything just... cleared up. Still not sure if it was the dehydration or what.

Also, my menstrual period went irregular again??

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #5: CADMIUM COLORS

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

Once again, welcome back to the Constant Companions Closeups - a series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Last time, I wrote a whole diatribe about my OCs while talking about I Wish That I Could Fall, and today, we're eating paint! Cadmium Colors featuring Soneji of Project Mikan!

Consider this a content warning: this post will discuss the pandemic, struggles with mental health, and suicidal ideation/attempts. I'm hoping it'll ultimately be uplifting, but the discussions at hand are incredibly heavy, and it wouldn't do this song right to be vague. Please be warned.

---

Let's talk about COVID.

At the beginning of 2020, I was in the midst of a long-term break from making music. It wasn't completely cold turkey, and I might not have even called it a break if you'd asked me at the time, but things were dire. I was still dealing with the burnout I'd sustained from the making of Autumn Every Day; I'd had my ego bruised by a live performance at a house party that went so hilariously bad it'd hurt even the most stoic performers (imagine watching an entire packed room of people clear out in 5 minutes flat from the already hyper-exposed vantage point of being on stage in front of them and knowing you single-handedly caused that lol); I had just moved across the country, and was preoccupied with trying to make ends meet as a 22 year old dealing with pure adulthood for the first time.

I was working a shitty minimum wage job at a discount clothing store I will not be naming, slogging through late-night shifts that wouldn't get me home until 3 am some nights. I had friends and roommates, but they were all just as overworked and exhausted and dealing with their own shit as me. I was mentally ill and unmedicated. Suicidal ideation was rearing its ugly head at my lowest moments.

Then, as I turned 23, a global pandemic shut the world down, my grandpa died with me being unable to attend his funeral, and I had a catastrophic mental breakdown that suddenly turned the voices in my head into a deafening cacophony of self-inflicted malice.

In hindsight, I think being 23 kinda just does that to you

---

Fast forward to 2021. I was back at my retail job with the pandemic raging in full force, my sense of self was held together with duct tape, positive self-talk essentially didn't exist for me, and I was the loneliest and lowest I had ever been. I was working the fewest hours I could get away with, and still, almost all spare time I had was taken up either by work or by my recovery from it.

This was around the time I got an email from Crypton, of all places - the people that make Hatsune Miku, for anyone uninformed. They wanted a remix of the song Happy Synthesizer for a Digital Stars compilation. I could not for the life of me tell you how I lucked into this or why they reached out to me of all people, but they did, and I was deathly determined to prove myself worthy of it.

This was August of 2021. I was staring down the barrel, languishing in what felt like only half of a life, fantasizing about death and trying to twist my thoughts into something that could at least keep me blearily shuffling forward another couple days. It was untenable.

(I'd also recently been diagnosed with OSDD 1b - this is a whole can of worms I can't really open until we talk about Breeze Blows, but it's important to at least mention that coping with this was a significant part of this turnaround.)

It's melodramatic, but I had only two options - make things again, or die.

I finished that remix within 24 hours of getting the stems, and I will gladly toot my own horn about it - it's really fucking good, in my opinion. Bittersweet ended up coming together in a mad dash over the next couple months as well. I was making music again.

Even though I was exponentially busier, things paradoxically got easier. I made the creative process a priority in my life, and not only did it give me an outlet for everything that had otherwise been eating away at my soul, but it struck a chord with other people who had been struggling as well. Things just... started getting brighter.

So I kept making music and living and yadda yadda blah blah here I am. This is all a lot of words and very personal stories of mental health struggles to say this:

One: The line between being an artist and being one of countless people forced to work jobs that go nowhere, that put their life at risk, that force them to strip parts of themselves away - it is a faint and transparent line built on circumstances of class and privilege and luck. Making Art and being an Artist aren't magical elevated states of existence, but something anyone is capable of if given the space to nurture their creativity. I believe the world should be a place where any person can do this.

Two: It's easy to convince yourself that art is meaningless in the face of the world at large. And yes, revolutions aren't fought by poetry and paintings, and people aren't fed through songs. But art is a source and a medium for connection; Art is how we find beauty in a disorganized and entropic world; Art is what we come home to and what words we write and pictures we paint and songs we sing to remind us that people matter to us and love is real and life is worth fucking living. Maybe that's corny and stupid, but it's true.

Three: So help me God, I will never work retail again in my entire life.

---

This is another song that is heavily inspired by artists like Prefab Sprout, Peter Gabriel, Kate Bush, and other artists of that ilk - very 80s, very flowery and sentimental lyricism, focused on telling a story. I greatly admire songs that aren't afraid to paint otherwise banal or ordinary scenes in abstract reverence!! I wanted the verses to contrast heavily with each other in that way, with verse one's relentless poeticisms (prosaic practice of depravity) and idioms turned on their head (suspending innocents above their disbelief) against verse two's incredibly straightforward depiction of a factory worker's circumstances.

The flowery language might have worked against me somewhat, though! I've seen a lot of folks that thought the ending was darker or much more defeatist than I intended, and while some of that is just inevitable with a work of art, I want to be clear.

Translator's note: this means "don't kill yourself, you idiot"!!

As you may have picked up from the previous post in this series, this song does heavily feature a leitmotif or two predominantly performed under pudgy pretenses. I'm not going to go on that whole novella-length spiel again, but rest assured knowing that this song, too, is one that makes me think about my OCs. Since it's something many people missed, however, I will take a moment to point out that this song quotes none other than Autumn Every Day off of my album of the same name!

Painting and visual art have been something of a reoccurring obsession of mine in my own art. I grew up around visual artists, have always been friends with many visual artists, and generally have a really intense love of it as a medium and a mode of expression. However, there's also always been a sense of... well, I don't want to call it jealousy, but it's jealousy. I've tried many times to start making visual art of my own, and I have made some things, but it's been a struggle, and I worry sometimes that my eye has permanently outstripped my ability.

However, in my quest to toss out grand expectations and simply have fun making art, I did recently pick up a cheap little drawing tablet! I'm excited to be a beginner at something artistic again...

Finally, I want to thank a couple people: Soneji of Project Mikan for the gorgeous, soaring saxophone solo; friend_xp for the mindboggling MV editing; and especially my good friend Que for the GORGEOUS painterly art that goes along with this song! Que's style was just perfect for this, and really tied the whole thing together immaculately!! There's no joke or deeper lore or anything I just fucking love Que's art go follow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And with that, I think this post is complete!! If you have anything else you wanna know about, ask away in the replies! Tomorrow will be Breeze Blows with Marcy Nabors and Marlow Jacobs!!!

MAKE ART AND BE GAY

[propertyofwhitney67]

I JUST SAW THE EVENT POST OKK

My request: M!whitney with F!PC with like... Pregnancy/lactation content. I feel like Whitney would get so possessive over a pregnant PC. My idea is probably mixed with jealousy too tbh.

I imagine a PC that starts lactating in the middle of class, everyone starts making fun- before whitney jealously claims her in front of everyone by fucking her.

Let me know if it's too specific! Definetly take some liberties I like seeing what you might come up with :)

Attention Whore

Whitney x AFAB!Reader

Prompt event: Pregnancy and Lactation

Words: 914

Tw: Pregnancy, lactation, smut, public sex,

Note: I'm sorry this took so long, I hope it's ok <3

River’s lesson was practically putting me to sleep, the same boring trig shit. I didn’t understand any of it, and Whitney’s constant distractions didn’t help. I decided to give up a long time ago on it, it wasn’t like I was going to need it anyway.

Exhaustion was catching up with me, and this was only the second class of the day. This pregnancy was kicking my ass, I’m tired all the time, my breasts are sore, and so many other fucking things that I don’t even want to think about. I would curse Whitney, but he’d only say I was practically begging for it.

I moved my desk closer to Whitney and rested my head on his shoulder. He didn’t mind, looking down at me with a smirk, then going back to fucking around with his friends. At least he was ok with this whole thing. He was terrified at first, but he’s since come to terms with it and is sticking by my side.

I must have fallen asleep at some point because I was awoken by the sound of laughing. I tensed, opening my eyes to find River bracing himself against his desk and some students pointing at me. I looked up at Whitney for some kind of answer, but he wasn’t looking at me. His body was tense and he was staring down one of his friends. 

Lifting my head, I got a better understanding of what was happening. They were laughing at me, something about–oh fuck…Breast milk had soaked through my shirt, leaving wet spots. I immediately tried covering my chest before Whitney tossed me his jacket, hitting me in the face. I didn’t complain, putting on the jacket and watching him knock his friend to the ground. I assume they were the one to start this whole thing.

Normally River pulls them apart pretty quickly, but it seems he’s passed out. My lactation must have really gotten to him for some reason. The man faints too easily.

Whitney wasn’t holding back, really making sure to hurt the guy. The other guy got in a few punches too, but it was obvious Whitney was winning. I’m surprised how protective Whitney has become of me since I told him I was pregnant with his kid. I’m not complaining though, it’s nice. I also love seeing him covered in blood, so that's a plus.

Once he got out his anger, he turned to me with that look in his eyes. His nose was bleeding and his knuckles were bloody and starting to bruise. He pulled me out of the chair and to the ground, straddling my waist. “Whitney…?” I asked, somewhat afraid he was gonna do what I thought he was gonna do. Well, not afraid, more annoyed than anything.

“Quiet, slut.” He whispered in my ear, “I’m showing them who owns you.” He pulled up my shirt, exposing my breasts and baby bump. 

I hated the looks and whispers I’d get about my bump, they made me feel like some kind of common whore. It’s most noticeable when I’m naked or wearing tight clothes, so I do my best to hide it with baggy clothes, but that’s not always viable. 

He roughly squeezed my breast, causing me to gasp and more milk to leak out. I felt my face heat up at the cheers and shouting, “Fuck her!” “Make her cum!” “Make her beg!” “I want to see her cunt!” Their words only encouraged him more, flipping up my skirt and showing off my bare cunt. “Good girl.” He smirked, happy I was following the rules. 

I whined, my hormones betraying me. “Whitney…” Between the crude statements and Whitney’s touch, I could feel myself getting wet. I want–no, I need him to claim me in front of all these people.

“You’re such an attention whore.” Whitney chuckled, freeing his fat cock from his pants. He traced my slit with his cock, mixing his precum with my wetness. “So needy,” He pushed past my folds, resting the head of his cock against my tight hole. “So desperate for my cock to split you open in front of everyone.” He smirked down at me, squeezing my breast again. “Isn’t that what you want, slut?”

A small nod from me was all it took for him to roughly thrust inside my tight hole. “Fuck...” I moaned, his cock stretching me out perfectly.

He grunted in my ear, bottoming out inside me. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He set a fast but steady pace, easily hitting that perfect spot inside me every time.

My body was sensitive and it didn’t take long after that for him to pull an orgasm from me. “Whitney!” I moaned, wrapping my legs around his waist and digging my nails into his back. “Please…fuck…” I whined as he fucked me through my orgasm, searching for his own.

He grunted and with one last thrust he came, painting my fall white with his cum. “Fucking slut…” He groaned, resting his forehead against mine.

I tuned out all the shouting and camera shutters, smiling as I felt him rubbing my growing stomach with his thumb. “We should probably get out of here.” I whispered to Whitney. I was tired and needed a new shirt and I’m sure he doesn’t want to deal with River’s shit when he wakes up.

“Taking you back to my place,” He smirked, helping me up from the ground and fixing my clothes, “I’m not done with you yet.”

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

Personal Dionysian Ritual

This is the ritual form I use for my Sunday worship (or, in this case, first-day-of-Anthesteria worship). I think this may hit closer to Catholic or Christian formats than historic Greek pagan ritual formats, at least if the book Hellenic Polytheism - Household Worship is to be believed. But this format is just a bit easier on me in terms of supplies, time, and ability to keep it semi-covert. I don't have the ability to light fires in my current space, but when I do, I usually include a prayer to Hestia at the beginning and end.

Dionysian Ritual (for Sundays) (Usually) (It's not set in stone)

Approach the altar or worship space. With you, there must be:

A bowl or other vessel filled with water (can be small).

Optionally, you may have:

Wine

Barley

Sea salt

Divination tools (I prefer tarot, or Sappho/Homeromanteions when I can get my hands on it).

A candle or other source of heat/light/incense (smells, basically)

Place the bowl of water either in front of your statue of Dionysos, or, if no statue is available, in a central spot in your space of worship. The wine and extra supplies may be placed anywhere else. Begin:

Orphic Hymn to Dionysos (Apostolos N. Athanassakis translation) I call upon loud-roaring and reveling Dionysos, primeval, two-natured, Thrice-born, Bacchic Lord, savage, ineffable, two-horned and two-shaped. Ivy-covered, bull-faced, warlike, howling, pure, You take raw flesh, You have triennial feasts, wrapped in foliage, decked in grape clusters. Resourceful Eubouleus, immortal God sired by Zeus when He mated with Persephone in unspeakable union, Harken to my voice, O blessed one, and with your fair-girdled nurses, Breathe on me in spirit of perfect kindness.

After the Orphic hymn, consecrate the bowl of water to make khernips. You may add salt if desired.

Dionysian Khernips Prayer (In between each verse of the Khernips Prayer, I move from just having the bowl on the altar, to holding the sides of the bowl, to holding the bowl up for the last verse.)

After the Khernips Prayer, I pray to Hagios as I actually ritually wash myself with the newly made khernips.

Hagios (For every verse of Hagios, I start with washing my face, then move to washing my hands, and finally sprinkle khernips on my feet, especially if I'm planning on dancing. This isn't actual washing, but more like lightly splashing water on the different parts of me that I wash.)

After Hagios, if there is wine, then I consecrate that, which I'll link my prayer for below. If there isn't, then I libate clean water (will be writing a prayer for that at some point soon), and move on to the next part of the ritual.

Wine Consecration to Dionysos (From the part where I say "This is the gift that..." through to "on the slopes of Mount Kithairon", I raise the wine towards my statue Dionysos as though toasting Him, which is inspired by art showing Maenads serving Dionysos wine.)

After the wine consecration, I pour out a libation of wine to Dionysos while praying my prayer to Dionysos Theoinos:

Theoinos

After the prayer to Theoinos, whatever happens next is up to you. If I'm doing any divination, I'll say a prayer to Dionysos Mantis before going ahead with it. Otherwise, I may dance, or talk about my day, or simply do prayer after prayer after prayer until I've kind of exhausted my talking point. Since most of my rituals are done at night, however, the consistent part is frequently the end, which is my second prayer to Dionysos Nyktelios:

Nyktelios II

And there you have it! I definitely finished this a bit later than I was planning, but that's okay - I got it out, and that's all that matters! I hope everyone has a good night and a beautiful Anthesteria, and that this was helpful to some degree :)

[dearchloe]

one big appy family

All characters are 18+

I was exhausted. Just back from my first term at university, wiped out from a long day of travel by a succession of trains, all of which had been either cancelled, delayed, or moved to a platform at the other end of the station at the last moment, I wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed from the moment I got home. Instead, I had to fend off a round of interrogatories from my parents and neighbours, pretend to be sociable as far into the evening as I could manage, tell them all the same (sanitised) freshers' week stories that they'd already heard twice before, and choke my way through a three course meal before finally being allowed to retreat to the sanctuary of my childhood bedroom and disappear under the covers into blessed oblivion.

It lasted, by my reckoning, about two hours.

I woke suddenly, the house in darkness and quiet at last, and stared into the black void that was my room, such an adjustment now after the past months of thin curtains above city-bright streets. For a moment, I wondered why I had returned to the land of the waking — and then a part of the darkness shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, and I knew, and I sighed internally at what was no doubt soon to come.

"What is it, Vicky?"

My sister came closer, sitting uninvited on the edge of the bed. "Erin?"

"Yeah?"

"I missed you."

"I missed you too. But I swear to god, if you've woken me up just to tell me that..."

"No, I didn't."

"Then what is it?"

"I'm wet."

Like a lot of people, I had to help look after my sister when I was growing up.

Unlike a lot of people, it was my older sister.

To anyone else, this would be strange. To me, it was simply my family.

"Let's see." Reluctantly, I pulled myself upright and leaned forwards, giving Vicky's nappy a good squeeze through the fluffy fabric of her pyjamas. She simply sat there, unresisting. "You'll last till morning. Get back to bed."

"But Erin! I'm gonna leak!"

"Keep your voice down."

"My bed will get all wet!"

"And I'll end up cleaning it, and probably bathing you as well, so what do you care?"

She whined. "It's yucky!"

"Bed. Now. I'm tired."

"But Erin..."

I clicked on my bedside light. "Victoria Drover. Just because I've been away, do you think the rules have changed?"

"... No."

"So what do you absolutely not do at night?"

"... Get out of bed."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Vicky?"

"But... But I need..."

"No, you don't." I put out a hand and grabbed my phone from the bedside table, and my sister suddenly assumed an expression of total panic.

"Erin... Erin, please... I'll be good..."

"Should have thought of that before." I opened my phone and flicked through the apps, looking for one I hadn't used in a while. When I was at home, the tracker app that the family used to keep tabs on Vicky's needs and behaviours lived at the top of my Most Used list. The rest of the time, I hardly opened it.

I ignored Mum's latest nursing stats on the Food tab and clicked into Sleep instead. As Vicky watched, bouncing from one foot to the other with nerves, I found the point where Mum had registered her as going down for the night, opened the entry, and edited the end time. Then I put my phone down on the covers and looked up at my older sister.

"Ok, Victoria. I'm going to put you back to bed, and if you go down ok for me, I'll write that you had a nightmare and I got you back to sleep. If you're going to give me a hard time, I'll write down what really happened. And your sleep stats don't look too good this month, do they?"

Mum kept a religious watch on Vicky's sleeping, feeds, and nappies, helped by the comprehensive recording service offered by the app. If any one of them didn't come up to scratch, she had a range of unpleasant methods of correcting it. For sleep, the answer was usually to put my sister on a newborn schedule — eighteen hours a day, more or less only interrupted for feeds and changes. But that was a hell of a lot of work for anyone involved, and I wasn't too proud to save myself the effort if it was possible.

My sister sighed. "Fine."

"If you're good, I'll change you first thing tomorrow." I glanced down at her records. "Though I think you're overdue to make a stinky nappy for us, so you might want to work on that."

"Night, Erin."

"Night, Vicky. Sleep well."

"Sleep wet, more like."

[sailingfireshipz]

Because @stellariders & @chicagofires are fueling this fire & I have very minimal self-control, here we fucking go.

First, let me preface this rant with the following context. This situation triggers me so much because I am a WOC in a predominantly male industry so I see myself in the struggles that Stella has been exposed to & it's simply not fucking fair. So this take will be framed from my POV...Perspective & Perception. The fact that I have to preface this rant with the above statement instead of just saying how I feel is exactly the fucking point I'm about to make 🙃

(Grab a snacky snack)

"You have to be what?"... you have to be 2x as good, work 3x as hard, to receive HALF of the recognition, praise, grace, & chances. They can fail upwards or even have a promotion fall into their hands "cough cough" whereas you have to drive yourself up the wall just to prove that you're worthy of the opportunity. Because ONE mistake can & will follow you throughout your entire career. & that constantly plays in the background, like static when it comes to Stella Kidd. & I feel like Stella knows that, which is why she came in, did her job, did it damn good, & proved that she can hang with the best of the best at 51 but it was never quite enough for some people & i wonder why. There's never been a moment where she has been above reproach or criticism. How can she be out of fear of being labeled difficult, aggressive, or hard to work with as the only "broad on truck" & let me be clear I'm using that term & phrase because thats exactly what Hermann said when she joined truck 81.... yuck! Anyway, how can she make a mistake when the few mistakes she has made have followed her. She fucked up in 7x02 why is it S10 & Casey if implying she can't come with him when Severide & squad 3 were under water because she might be to emotionally charged. (LOL excuse me but didnt you jump out of a moving firetruck when your poor Sylvie was hurt, hypocrite much?) Didn't see Brett or Violet volunteering to hop on the boat & Stella is a trained paramedic or EMT so she would have been an asset. She messed up in S8 so why did they just take away her teaching at the academy versus addressing burnout & how to prioritize her time to be able to do both, because she was & is fully capable of doing both she just needed direction & support...She made a mistake in S10 by going mia & she apologized profusely for it but it still felt like Kelly held back & almost iced her out a bit longer than necessary. But in S9 when he royally messed up she immediately took him back & told him she wasn't going to let him get away again even though it wasn't her fault, he iced her out to begin with. Oh not even touching on the fact that him icing her out in S9 absolutely fucked with her confidence in her abilities to the point she almost skipped out on the LT exam.....🙂

When her CAPTAIN no less saw her burning it on all fronts in S8.. what did he do? How did he act? Was it with compassion or care, or did he get snappy & reprimand? Did Stella argue, talk back, or provide excuses? No, instead, she took accountability for her actions & tried to do better even though she KNEW she was drowning & overwhelmed. Instead of creating a safe space for her to be like hey captain, I'm struggling prioritizing how you manage she went internal & pushed herself to the brink of self exhaustion that she could have killed herself or someone else.

So let's talk about how Gallo on the other hand came in & had his own share of potential life or death mistakes with Casey & how he was down right disrespectful to Pelham & how he was inappropriate in the attitude & tone he took with Stella when questioning her about Carver. I never saw fucking reddit think pieces on how disrespectful, cocky, arrogant or annoying he was. Nope! He got a pass & a slap on the wrist time & time again. Casey even sat down with him, bought him a beer & they talked it out. So why couldnt Stella get that same grace? Yet when Stella very respectfully told Pelham "hey hesrd you are a great ff but I'll have to see for myself" parts of this fandom erupted, calling her all types of jealousy , entitled, etc. Never once saw Stella defy Pelhams commands or undermined his leadership. I dis however see her lay her busding career down on the line for a man she barely knew but did it because it was the right thing to do.

Casey was ready to cut Gallo loose on HIS FIRST fuck up after Boden told Casey he didn't want him at 51 because he was reckless. Had it not been for Boden providing Casey with Gallos' backstory, he would have cut him loose, i believe. Funny how Boden had to tell Casey about Gallos family history but Stella took it upon herself to try & work with & get to know Carvers backstory AFTER Boden, her mentor, her father figure & CHIEF told her who her next replacement on 51 was going to be.... Funny how the most turnover truck saw in 10 years was Jimmy, Gabby (chose not to return to truck) & Otis yet Stella is 2.5-3 years in & she's had to navigate through Mason, Gallo, Gibson, while dealing with shit from Carver & Damon.... you see the picture I'm painting here!?

Correct me if I'm wrong, but outside of Carver... who else has Boden forced his officers to take on their rig when they were explicitly against it..... I'll wait. Oh, but because "he's 51 material," you have to find a way to manage his bullshit & if you rewatch S11, Carver had a lot of BS. And I know we like Carver now because they abandoned the I have a crush on my married LT storyline, but I had actually forgotten how bad he was as an EMPLOYEE!

He is hot tempered & showcased high levels of aggression & anger in the workplace. Imagine Stella getting upset & punching or throwing things. Yelling at her LT or engaging in behavior that would have landed her in jail. Did we forget that this incident in S12 is Carvers' second physical altercation with a civilian... Never thought I'd be referencing Emma Jacobs, but one incident in the file is a hiccup.. two looks like a pattern of him not being able to control his temperament. We've seen Stella drunk ONE time because she'd been transferred out & they acted like she was being biligerant (go back & watch the scene & just look at how they're looking at her). Carver, however, is allowed to get drunk thrown in jail, call his LT to bail him out & Stella's supposed to what? Take it, leave her damn job in the middle of the night just for him to not be apologetic at ALL & then tell her oh this needs to stay been us. LMAO EXCUSE ME WHAT!!!!? & it would be one thing if this was a one off but AGAIN nope later in the SAME season he didn't just get himself into a physical altercation but dragged Gallo, Mouch, & Ritter into it also because he refused to REGULATE & walk away.

But wait, there's more. Remember how he went off on his LT in the locker room because he was upset & then proceeded to get drunk & call out on one shift & NCNS on another leaving her with no time to find a decent floater... & even after Kelly explicitly told her that she would lose no respect if she cut him loose, what did she do... she went to his apartment to check on him, make sure he was alright & gave him ANOTHER chance. Matt Casey, Kelly Severide & Hermann would absolutely never & I'm not saying it's a bad thing that Stella gave him so many chances what I'm saying is i don't feel like her reasoning behind all the chances were actually her own but more so rooted in not wanting it to be a failure on her part in the eyes of Boden. & that for me is problematic as hell.

Even in S12... for Carver to get into that restaurant brawl & immediately take furlough afterwards was just such a cowardly move because here you are AGAIN leaving your LT high & fucking dry on truck during a crirical time no less with Boden being up for that promotion!

Now, moving into this Damon storyline, I'm going to reserve a majority of my thoughts until we actually get to see it play out. However, one thing in the finale that was alarming to me was Stella's conversation with Violet. I interpreted it as Stella had all intentions of cutting Damon loose. He was a floater, she owed that man no loyalty & she specifically said she was in no rush to lock anyone down permanently after the Gibson issue. However, again, it felt like Stella decided to keep him on longer because of other external factors. ie: Carver leaving her high & dry again & Kelly seemed to like him. Those to me aren't good enough reasons because she's not making decisions that honor her experience with this man rather than those around her.

The reality is that Stella could have lost her command or even worse because of that brawl. That man could have reported them to the CFD brass, called the cops, blasted them in the media & SUED the CFD. & the first thing they would have asked Stella was why she did not have control of the scene or her direct reports. They would have hung this on her & the old hags at CFD would have been like see this is why women shouldn't be officers." Blah blah blah. The repeecussions would have been so much greater for Stella & could have derailed what shes worked so hard for & the fact that Carver & Damon don't get that irks me because they should have NEVER put her in that position to begin with. You don't bring reproach on your leader especially when your leader has run through walls to protect you, bailed you out of jail, hell thrown herself on top of you to shield you from a blast, etc.

& so in conclusion my next gripe is with the writers & showrunners because I wonder if they know. I wonder if they know & they're choosing to reinforce these stereotypical experiences without effectively addressing them. I wonder if they know that they're not romanticizing it all & that its not cute or funny but infuriating that it feeds a part of this fanbase that's actually disgusting & rooted in misogyny. Or maybe they don't know & it's a mixture of unconscious bias/ ignorance.

Regardless, it's 2024 & I'm tired of it! 😫 I'm all for showing the reality & challenges that women or woc in the CFD face on a day to day but I feel like why not use it as a platform to show that just because it's embedded in the systems doesn't make it right nor does it make a requirement for Stella or any other female officer to have to endure the shit. She should be able to fucking fire or discipline Carver, Damon or whoever on HER rig without being questioned on whether or not her emotions or personal experiences are clouding her judgment because she's earned that right. She studied, she worked her ass off, she took the test, she passed & she's the LT. She shouldn't have to explain why she gave Carver or anyone certain assignments because guess what? No assignment is too big or small when lives are on the line, right? She shouldn't have to feel obligated to keep Damon on her rig just because now he's her long lost BOL that withheld the truth from her his LT & even when he decided to come clean it wasn't to her his LT. I am praying that is not the narrative they push in S13 but tbh I wouldn't be surprised because they've already set the groundwork for it. She shouldn't have to explain her reasoning or endure another year of unprofessionalism on her rig all because the patriarchy will get upset that a woman is leading/ discipling men. Reading the comments on how Stella disciplined them in the finale really bothered me because yall can't be serious! Stella had ever right to be upset, to express that frustration & disappointment with them because at the end of the day, that was her scene, her fire fighters & her responsibility as the officer in charge.

It feels like the men on the show are allowed to have their emotions, their traumas, their demons & it be brushed over or romanticized with little to no consequence. However, that same grace is not extended to the strong female leads that have just as much trauma, pain, or demons. They vilified Gabby for hers & they try to do the same to Stella. it's not fair because if they were males, we wouldn't have the conversations of "Stella leading Grant on" "Stella putting people lives in danger" or "Stella's on a power trip & has let her rank go to her head"

I know that was a lot & if you made it to the end of this rage rant, thank you. This has been something I've been sitting on since S11 & tbh it feels good to get it out! 🥹

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - Faster

Words: 839

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

Remus would forever be grateful to Sirius for spotting the moon, dragging him back into the shrieking shack, kissing his temple and locking the door before he could transform. Even with the wolfsbane, he wouldn’t wish it on Harry and his friends to witness the transformation.

Even with Remus' mind, the wolf was restless. He could smell Sirius and Peter. Peter. He knew Hermione had hit him with incarcerous, but worried all night about whether they’d finally got him.

After he turned back, groggy and exhausted, but uninjured, the door swung open. He swallowed the disappointment at not Sirius standing there, but Dumbledore.

“Good Morning!” He said jovially as if the events of last night were a regular occurrence. “How are you feeling?”

Remus frowned, “Albus, tell me—”

“I’ll get to that, Remus. How are you feeling? Was the potion adequate?”

“Yes, thank you.” He muttered, “I didn’t sleep much, but I’m fine.”

“Glad to hear it!” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger are all safe and unharmed, other than Mr Weasley’s leg which is already on the mend. Severus is… his usual self.” Remus snorted, “He has made a point to inform the ministry of your condition, which will no doubt filter down to parents and students in due course. I want to make myself absolutely clear, Remus, that you belong here. No complaints from parents or questions from the wizengamot will change that. I hope that you will stay.”

Remus stared at the wall, everyone would know. Surely parents would withdraw their children, and send them to Beauxbatons where they weren’t being taught by a monster. Of course, he couldn’t stay.

Dumbledore interrupted his train of thought, “The students respond to you and they enjoy your lessons. You would be doing yourself and them a disservice if you let this change things. Just, think about it.” He nodded, “Onto more serious matters.”

“Is he…”

“Aurors came to collect Mr Pettigrew in the early hours of the morning. He is awaiting trial now.”

“So he gets a trial? Not just thrown in Azkaban, no questions asked?” Remus snarled. “He spent twelve years in there, Albus.”

“I’m well aware,” Dumbledore Held up a hand, “He will be given a full pardon. He’s in the hospital wing currently being fussed over by Poppy.”

“He’s not… they didn’t take him back?” Remus blinked at him.

“No, Remus. He’s a free man.”

Remus didn’t care if he was being rude. All he could think of was Sirius, and he ran from the shack, through the tunnel and out of the Whomping Willow, not caring if anyone saw him exit. He ran faster than he ever had and when he came skidding to a halt in the hospital wing, a small sea of curious faces greeted him.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were gathered around Sirius’ bed while Madam Pomfrey hovered. Sirius sat cross-legged on top of the sheets, chatting animatedly to Harry, wearing clean robes, with his hair tied back and, wow, he didn’t know that Poppy could work miracles, but apparently she could.

Sirius instantly leapt from the bed to the protests of Harry and Hermione and threw his arms around Remus.

“You’re alright.” Remus whispered, “I’ve got you.”

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

“I am pleased to introduce you to our new Astronomy professor, Professor Sirius Black.” Dumbledore smiled over at him.

Sirius got to his feet and bowed slightly, smiling at the cheers coming from the Gryffindor table. As he sat back down, Remus’ hand returned to his thigh and he linked their little fingers together.

Remus, after much debate with Sirius and Harry, had agreed to stay on at Hogwarts. When Dumbledore offered Sirius the Astronomy position he’d pinched himself several times because being back at Hogwarts with Sirius seemed too good to be true. Dumbledore had written to them a week after term had ended to ask if they’d like separate quarters, or to share, and that had shattered the levy that had been holding back everything they hadn’t said since they were teenagers. Choked ‘I love you’s, angry ‘I missed you’s and serene promises. Forevers.

Travelling on the Hogwarts Express with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville was delightful. Much better than it had been for Remus the previous year, not a dementor in sight. Sirius slung his arm across the back of the seats and Remus leaned into his shoulder. He noticed Hermione shoot Ron an ‘I told you so’ look, but that was all. They’d told Harry over the summer when he’d finally come to live with them at Grimmauld Place and he was thrilled for them, Lily and James’ son through and through. They’d absolutely gutted the house, slashing the portrait of Walburga until the ribbons of canvas were finally silent. All the silver adornments changed to gold, and heavy, dusty curtains were thrown away to let the light in.

It would only be their home for a few months a year for the foreseeable future, but it was their home. Better late than never.

[avissapiens]

Jockbull Summer Week 1 (12/11/23-18/11/23) - Set C

1

My diet on this cut is already so much protein. Between 160-200 g most days. Removing carbs and sugar will be an undertaking tho. But a necessary one. I recall last year when i was in such a heavy deficit with no carbs at all. That was not ideal for my mental health. Hopefully this is slightly healthier.

2.

Only did this once to start. Sat by my door to let the fresh air in. I’ve been meditating since I was 10. Not consistently, but I've got the techniques down. Simplest method is counting down from 100. Once you reach 0 you start again from 30. It creates an excellent mental silence as you sit there and just breathe. In doing so you can let your mind flow naturally to what it wants. For me it wanted to envision different ways and strategies of accomplishing all the goals in this JBS set. I would like to get this one to be a daily ritual. It’s very blissful.

3.

This is a task where i know ultimately how it’s gonna develop. One of my favorite tactics for ramping up intensity in the gym has always been super prolonged periods of edging. Not just days but weeks and months without cumming. Constantly stroking. It gets you to some dark, deep places. And every time I pull myself out I always bring along some stuff permanently. The longest I’ve gone is 60 days straight. I think maybe this summer might be a chance to push that record.

4.

God I really hope I can manage this one. There are so many fun Avis Abstractions in my head that I wanna get to you all. We will reassess in a week.

5.

Not fully constructed yet. I want to take inspo from scand who’s routine list is extensive and exhaustive. I’ve made a lot of massive strides in the last year however in terms of building a routine from nothing. Mostly in terms of skin care and hair stuff, but also in terms of certain night time activities like crunches or forearm exercises. Its time i just level it up. Maybe not to the point of incel looksmaxxing but I definitely think there is so much more attractiveness to be cultivated in me and I just need to work harder to find it.

[harleymutt]

DMS AND ASKS ALWAYS OPEN FOR DEGRADATION!!!

MDNI - I CAN AND WILL BLOCK

Hi! I'm Harlow or Harley. Pronouns: it/he

I'm transmasc and bi, with a heavy t4t preference. I'm pre-op and pre-t. unowned and looking :)

DNI: non-kink detrans, general asshole or bigot, ofc minors but that's already been said, cishet men, lesbians/exclusively wlw who want to engage in kink with me (talking about kink is fine, we all need kinky platonic friends!), extreme feederism, ana/eating disorder blogs, this might be updated at some point but that's all I can think of for now.

Pronouns: he/him and it/its

I am exclusively a sub and mostly bottom. My anons and dms are open, feel free to send me questions, requests, etc. I will not post pictures but I may send them privately <3

Kink info below the cut

I cannot currently do anything anal due to medical issues. While I love fantasizing about anal, that's all I can currently do, right now. Also, stop asking me about it. It's really not any of your business.

I am into (intense = red, love = pink): biting/scratching, body writing, bondage/restraints, boot worship/play, breath play, breeding, chastity, CNC, cockwarming, dacryphilia, dehumanization, degradation, discipline/training, dumbification edging/denial, exhibitionism, figging, forcemasc, free use, humiliation, humping, impact play, inspection, masochism, orgasm control/ruining, overstim, oviposition, pain play, pet play, pussy torture, (pussy) spanking, temperature play, watersports (to an extent), wedgies. This is a non-exhaustive list.

You may call me: pup/puppy, mutt, dog, slut, whore, fag(got), boy, toy, cunt, bitchboy, or any combination of these terms.

HARD LIMITS: beastiality, crush/snuff, feederism, feet, hucow, infantilization, medical play, nuns/priests (other religious ideas, like demons and angels, are okay), raceplay, vomit/scat. You're allowed to be into these things obviously, they're just limits that I set for myself or interacting with me through kink.

You may call my parts: cunt, pussy, hole, clit, dick, boytits, really anything except "breasts" or "tits" on their own is okay!

You may NOT call me: anything strictly feminine, that contains the word "girl," bitch (on its own), cow, anything centered around my weight rly

Msg for main

ANONS TAKEN: 🪐, 🐺, 🌻, 🪓

[kaddyssammlung]

A few days ago I was driving in the car and Bloodsport from the Room below came on. Of course I had to sing along. I made it to “even if the earth breaks like burnt skin” and then I stopped. I collapsed internally.....

It's weird mood day and I'm already sobbing anyway so let me take five minutes to deep dive into that weird mood and write down how I made “loving Elena” a bloodsport. Why? Because it's what this makes me think about.

TW: mental health issues (BPD and also SH)

Elena is someone that I mentioned a few times in here already. She sat next to me in school. We went to grammar school together. I met her in fifth grade. We were seated next to each other (by me English teacher btw.) in the second half of 7th grade. At least that's how I remember it.

We became best friends. Well...or so I thought. She was the worst “bpd fave person” relationship that I ever had. A favorite person is just another term for...wait...I steal something from the internet to explain it well enough

“ People with borderline personality disorder (BPD) often form intense attachments, frequently singling out a “favorite person”. This dynamic can be profoundly meaningful yet challenging for both individuals involved. For the person with BPD, the favorite person becomes a vital source of emotional support and validation, sometimes to the point of dependency.1 On the other hand, the individual identified as the BPD favorite person may experience pressure and emotional exhaustion as they navigate the complexities of the BPD favorite person relationship.“ (source)

Emotional support and validation...that's what I used her for. I don't know a better term then to say use or no..it's abusive behaviour. Of course there is a reason why I did that and also someone in their teens may not really be mature enough to understand what they are doing. I was not aware of it.

I still remember that stupid messenger everyone used back then “icq”. And then “ao” when you got a message. The way that I often stared at this because I knew that she was upset with me. Hearing that “ao” gave me a rush of anxiety because I did not know if things were going to be okay again or not.

When I was upset because she was upset over something that I had done then I turned this against myself. I self-harmed because I deserved it. In that case it served as punishment for me. She knew that. I often let her know. I even told her that I only did it so that be could be even. That's emotional abuse btw...just to be clear. I know that now but 16 year old me had no idea.

I don't want to go into details...I did a few things that were a lot more fucked up then this btw.

One day we had a fight and I told her that I was in love with her. She is straight btw....well actually she is “bi curious”. She slept with a women once because she thought she was so attractive and also she wanted to know what it would feel like. Yeah great....thank you...I would have slept with you. Okay bad idea but whatever...

She has a boyfriend and they have been in a relationship for ikd....15 years now or so...

I forgot where I was.. Oh yes....I confessed to her that I loved her. That was it. She stopped talking to me for two years. I deserved that...or more. And no we are not close these days. We talk randomly that's all.

So...can I find in within me to forgive myself for all the BS that I did to her? Right now in this moment: no! But I choose to see my innocence in all of this. And also "no amount of self-sought fury will bring back to glory of innocence"...so true!

The reason why I collaped over "even if the earth breaks like burnt skin"...well.... He has one burn scar. That day this got to me for some reason...i have harmed myself in many ways but not like that. But I get it.

[meimi-haneoka]

I know my last report is so long...and technically, I could've summarized so many of those info in shorter paragraphs.

But it's all intentional. I really wanted to write their dialogues out as far as possible, because I've noticed something in the fandom. I'm pretty sure this is not limited to CLAMP but to 'public figures' in general, especially on the internet.

I've noticed a sort of tendency to dehumanize these four women. Sometimes I come across comments that make my skin crawl. People calling them names, insults, "these old hags", people who think these four women should only live to satisfy the fandom's hunger for content, or their fetishes. They don't consider (and even if they do, they do not seem to know what the words 'be indulgent' mean) these are four human beings who have their lives, wishes, preferences, shortcomings, health problems, or even not a 100% great mental space.

I admit I have "joked" with heavy terms in private too, in the past. But lately, especially after they started to open the Twitter Spaces, showing their more "raw, genuine side" to us, and ever since my JP skills allowed me to understand them better, I can't bring myself to do that anymore. It might be because I'm getting old too and I understand painfully well what it means to begin having problems related to age (for memory or even physical pain), and the love and care (and often pain) that lie behind a piece of artwork, but I just can't help empathizing with them. Hearing them joking among each other, knowing how much they care for one another like sisters, hearing them talking so humbly about their work even after such a long time, getting to know when they're feeling sick and knowing their struggles because on the workplace they're like a machine that can work well only if all the components are in good condition...it really really makes you realize how human they are.

I think the turning point for me was when I heard one of the personal Spaces Ohkawa opened every morning for a week, while she was having breakfast, talking about various topics. In one of the firsts, she apologized because you could hear the noise of the washing machine working on the background. It struck me so powerfully. This is not some kind of unapproachable, inaccessible person living on another existential plane, this is a normal, regular human being who writes stories for a job but who's got to do laundry like every other regular person on this earth. They might drink champagne and go to fancy restaurants (but Ohkawa in particular is a fan of McDonald's too) but that doesn't mean that they lost their humanity.

And I found myself not wanting to partake in this stupid game of dehumanizing them anymore. Actually, with my translations, I want to try to make people see what I see too. Make them feel the "vibe" through their own words, because you can understand so much of them through the words they often use. Ohkawa might look like this merciless and whimsical boss, but she actually just loves the stories she envisioned very much, and she's ready to go through a shitstorm to defend her choices on the workplace.

She just feels a bit guilty that when there's criticism of her choices, the work of her colleagues gets dragged down along, but they're all in this together and they stick to one another tightly.

I can only do these translations when it's about CCS because they're exhausting to me and take me so much time, so my "brainrot" helps me push through to finish them. But at least for that, I want to try to do this, when I can.

[rojaceartandgaming]

Hello IEYTD fandom, I know I'm not much of someone who... participates much. I lurk, I drop in to throw an ieytd fic at y'all and put Jackson through more hell, but... I have a legitimate question. Please don't be mad if I am out of line, but I'm genuinely confused as someone who is a storyteller himself and is learning game design in college. This leads me into another point here-

This will go into game and story analysis!

I'll admit most of my questions are rhetorical, so as rude as I may accidentally sound... I want to have a genuine discussion about this fandom, and I am coming in as a third party who doesn't partake in anything here really other then loving people's fanfiction and art. I watch, I listen, and yet... I am utterly exhausted and kind of frustrated with the state of this fandom as a mostly outside observer.

So, I'm legitimately just putting these questions out there to get them off my mind, and I really don't have the energy to partake in any arguments. I am not looking for any arguments like "well I don't think so" or "I don't see that." I have been here silently watching and yet what I shall bring up has stood out to me near-constantly.

Why is there just... such blatant mischaracterization in this fandom? And why, furthermore, are people so... shocked that people enjoy villainous characters? And even furthermore.... why are people constantly dumbing down antagonists? As a writer myself, I often constantly find myself mentally praising Schell on this amazing trilogy of games. Especially because 99.9 percent of the characters are villains. A hero is only as good as their villain - that is a crucial part of video game development. Of storytelling as a whole.

I am studying game design. Actively going to college for this.

I have been reading and consuming and analyzing fiction since I was a kid.

I've been working on an RPG for the past three years, my passion project.

No matter if you're reading a story, watching a movie, or in this case playing a video game, this is a fundamental concept. A hero is only as good as their villain. That is what makes us root for a hero. A villain has to be menacing, a threat to the main hero, needs to be compelling, and furthermore most of the time needs to be understandable. A villain that you can see exactly how they got to that point and can kind of empathize with that is a well written villain.

Being able to see or analyze how a villain got to that point is not excusing their bad actions or ignoring that a character is a bad guy.

That is someone critically analyzing a character and enjoying their arc. And furthermore, that is a testament to good writing.

Being able to understand exactly how a villain got to the point they're at makes them more terrifying.

Characters like Sephiroth (honestly most Final Fantasy antagonists, really), the Dead Three's Chosen from Baldur's Gate, basically every villain from Splatoon, Count Bleck from Super Paper Mario and so much more are not beloved characters just because they're just like, considered hot (idk fandoms be wild) or blorboified (is that even a term?).

They're loved because they are genuine threats who have such depth to their character and are interesting because they are villains. And furthermore, vanquishing or going against these villains feels important because they have depth. Because they can be analyzed.

That's what I love about IEYTD as both a gamer, and a storyteller myself. The Phoenix is a complete blank slate. The Phoenix is a player insert. That is not a personal stance. That is an intentional game mechanic. That is not a consequence of IEYTD being a VR game - many VR games have a proper named main character, even if they are a silent protagonist. The Phoenix is once again a blank slate for the player to project onto, and that is an intentional decision by Schell. This is how they wanted to tell their story. I love an oc-ified Phoenix as much as the the next person - I mean, look at Jackson - but the Phoenix is a literal blank slate. You cannot ignore that.

So how do you make a silent character with no appearance or voice interesting? How do you make the player care? Furthermore, how do you make the game feel rewarding?

You fill the game with a plethora of characters - primarily villains - that have enough character and drive that make the player feel good about overcoming the challenges and trials that come. That is just good game design.

Every single villain - from someone who barely gets any mention like Daniel Sans, to major, major villains like Solaris, Juniper, and Prism, to even a villain who we don't know shit about like Zor - is a menacing force. Overcoming the obstacles that are sent your way leads to a rewarding game play loop where you, the player, actually give a shit about the story, the world, the villains, and the player insert of the Phoenix themselves.

There is so much to every single villain that one can pick apart, that it becomes insulting to the characters and honestly to Schell's writers when you reduce their characters to just "a girlboss who kills people" (Fabricator) or "a whiny bitch of a privileged asshole" (Juniper) or "just a silly guy who likes bees" (Hivemind) or "she didn't do anything wrong, she was just manipulated" (Prism).

Even the most minor of a villain in this game has so, so many layers you could pick apart and analyze and... so many people in this fandom all but Flanderize them. It almost feels like people in this fandom cannot grasp the concept of characters being multifaceted.

And even more, that they cannot imagine liking a villain even though they are a villain.

This is a trend that I've seen a lot within fandom recently and... it's something I don't get. Writing a character who is a terrible person (and liking said character) does not make someone a terrible person. That is something that people do not seem to get nowadays thanks to likely lack of media literacy and... it kind of kills me a little bit as someone who analyzes so many types of media and is working on a story driven RPG, and once again is going to college for game design.

A character who is flawed is believable. No realistic character is infallible.

John Juniper is prone to anger, he is a man who is egotistical, arrogant, and a bit of a prick. However, these bad traits of his were likely preyed upon by Zoraxis and he became worse because of that. I am not saying he did no wrong, I am saying that you have to acknowledge that he is multifaceted.

The Fabricator has a fair bit of flair too, but to reduce her to just a quote-en-quote girlboss ignores her work. She makes Saw-esque death traps and delights in the pain and ultimately death her traps make.

Hivemind delights in killing people with literal bee stings. Think about that, think of how brutal of a death that would be. The average adult can withstand over one-thousand bee stings, or approximately ten stings per pound. And he laughs about it.

Prism knew what she was getting into, and hearing people say she did nothing wrong is... confusing. She worked for the EOD. She knew who Zor was. She knew what they would do. It is no secret that they regularly backstab their own employees. Zoraxis elite have a target on their back from their own employer. Prism likely knew that, and yet worked for them anyways. Yes, she helps the Phoenix in the end. But that is the culmination of her arc. You have to acknowledge that.

These are but a few examples - I am not going into full rants about every single character. I have an essay due on Sunday, I need some of my sanity left. But I feel like this had to be said.

To reduce these characters to Flanderized versions of themselves is to almost insult the writing in these games. To insult the very complexity and depth and thought that was put into these characters. And as a lover of story driven media who often analyzes - occasionally over-analyzing - these sorts of games for fun, and is aspiring to complete a story driven RPG with hopefully in-depth villains.... it is simply saddening to witness.

I felt this had to be said, thank you for your time if you read this. I now hopefully should have some peace of mind for the time being.

[cookinguptales]

ooooh love that 4 am chronic illness venting

sometimes I think the worst part about having a chronic illness is accepting that, in many ways, it will never be as good as it is now. I can be in awful pain, I can be exhausted, I can be barely functional at work and I still know things are only going to get worse. like. god. if I'm this bad at 34 how the fuck am I going to be when I'm 50?

I couldn't even get through one film festival. my hormones have been acting up since I got back to Philly, probably brought on by all the travel and stress about work, and I spent a solid two weeks with my ribs and hips dislocating and the first three days at the festival were just me being in so much pain that I would go to the restroom and cry between movies.

that's what having a good time apparently looks like these days!

and then my ribs start calming down just in time for a heat wave. 85 degrees. god knows I can't go out in that anymore, because this body can't do fucking anything right. okay, fine, whatever. then my period finally comes a week early, seems about par for the course with whatever the fuck is going on this month, and the endometriosis is so bad that I could barely get out of bed yesterday, much less make it to center city.

so in the end, I have so far made it to 4 of the 10 days of the festival, and I don't have much hope about the last two. I have to come to terms with the fact, now, that maybe I can't even handle film festivals anymore. I can't handle going into the city and sitting in a dark room for a week now???

I feel like I've wasted all this money on something I was really excited about, because I used to really love going to the film festival. but have we devolved to the point where I can't even do this anymore?

like I know that this month is irregular, for several reasons, but I can never depend on a month to be regular anymore! I can't plan a trip three months in advance because I don't even know how I'm going to be three days in advance anymore! do I just give up on making plans in the future? do I give up on looking forward to fucking anything anymore?

and I know that the mood swings are part and parcel of having pmdd (I had ~three~ panic attacks yesterday) but also like. god. at a certain point how can you handle balancing work and trying to have fun while your rib is literally sticking out of your fucking back. you can feel it! when you touch! my back!

and at what point does a mental breakdown become inevitable, dealing with that kind of pain? when you're also dealing with about five different work deadlines and you still want to make art but you have no time for it and when you finally have time, nothing you write is any good.

all that and I'm supposed to have fun, too? I feel like every time I carve out the least little bit of fun for myself this october, the month I am supposed to enjoy the most, I spend the next three days paying for it.

I feel like I just. I'm at the point now where I physically cannot leave the house ten days in a row anymore. I can barely handle three days in a row. I'm not even doing anything. I'm just sitting there, but apparently the act of taking a bus to a building and sitting in that building is too much for me now.

I know I've been kind of irritating to be around for the past few weeks, but I am just exhausted. and today I'm finally clearing the joint pain, I'm finally clearing the nausea and inability to eat (which of course makes me sicker), and I'm just. I'm so fucking tired. I can't even enjoy not being in (as much) pain for a few days.

and of course trying to scrape all this together, I haven't been able to clean the house, so it looks like shit and I feel like shit about that, too.

I don't know. some days when you have an incurable illness that you know is just going to get worse over time it's just. I don't know. it's hard to have any hope at all. I feel like I'm going to die alone in a filthy house because I don't have the energy to be a real person anymore.

like I go visit my parents and I'm always so glad to get home because I love them but I also need my space but there's always that realization that like. oh right, living alone is really fucking hard. some days I can barely even feed myself. I feel so useless.

I know that withdrawing from my friends is probably the opposite of what I should be doing right now, but it's also. I don't know, sometimes I feel almost ashamed to let them see me when I can't even pretend that I have my life together. like usually I can at least pretend that my body isn't weighing me down too much. letting people see me when it's very, very clear that I am hanging on by a thread feels far too vulnerable.

I guess some piece of me feels like if I let people see the awful underbelly of what it's like to actually be disabled, they'll be disgusted with me. like. sometimes disability is just we have to walk a little more slowly at the museum or I can only eat certain foods when we go out or I get way too chatty because I'm exhausted and I lose my filter when I'm exhausted. but sometimes disability is not showering for a week and a living room that's covered in garbage and unpacked suitcases and sitting in your bed and crying for hours. like. there's nothing glamorous about it.

I feel like I have to work so hard and pretend so much to even reach "tolerable" to other people but I'm not even tolerable to myself right now. even on my best days, when I can go out and hang out with people and pretend that I'm okay, I know that I will be going home to a messy house that I will never invite people to because it's embarrassing to admit that I live like that, not because I want to, but because I have to.

but I can't even do that anymore, I can't even go out for a few hours and pretend that I'm normal and well-adjusted and not at all a burden to my friends and my family and my community.

I don't know. I don't know. I'll be okay. I always end up okay. but I feel like having a chronic illness means mourning a thousand different opportunities you had to give up because you were home puking or whatever, and right now I'm mourning a film festival.

or at least the me that could go to film festivals.

[mitch4tune]

My Aroace Journey

Teacher during Sex Ed: You'll all feel sexual attraction at some point. Me, years later, still waiting and panicking: Where is it? *manic chuckle* Wh... Where the hell is it...??

I've only really celebrated Valentine's Day once (aside from exchanging cards with my class in elementary school), so I'll contribute to the aromantic awareness that's been trending on Tumblr by sharing my experience of how I found out I'm aroace.

I first heard of the term "asexual" in an LGBTQ context in September or October of 2020 because of Alastor's sexuality being officially confirmed. "Very interesting! Can't be me," I thought.

I got into researching and asking reddit anyway. I think I determined that I'm ace later that year in October.

In April of 2021, the thought of me possibly being aromantic as well struck me. I hated that thought, telling myself, "I've already had one thing taken away; why do I have to lack something else?!"

(I want to clarify that lacking sexual and romantic attraction doesn't make someone any less of a person.)

Once I accepted that I'd probably never fall in love, I ironically got into a romantic relationship in July and determined that I'm demiromantic. During that relationship, I experienced waking up looking forward to messaging them each day, seeing the world in more saturated colours, and even properly enjoyed my first Valentine's Day date. I'm forever grateful for all of that.

The relationship lasted a little more than a year before I fell out of love (that doesn't mean I don't still love them; I'm just not in love anymore). A year after the breakup, a friend suggested that I could be cupioromantic. I joined the subreddit and described my situation, to which someone recommended I check out r/lithromantic.

I spent a long time feeling like I'd gotten robbed of something again ("Why can I even fall in love if that's going to be taken away after it's returned?"), but I eventually accepted my orientation despite still getting sad about it every now and then.

I speculated on another part of my identity from January to February of 2024. I'm not comfortable saying what it is yet, but I will say that a big part of that ordeal was spent worrying about how my identity would affect other people, which is ridiculous; your identity is part of you; not anyone else.

I only told two people because I felt disgusting for the thought even having crossed my mind randomly. I don't know why, since I'll always speak in favor of people who identify that way. But I still felt that way, no matter how much I reassured myself. No matter how much those two friends reassured me.

I came to the conclusion that it doesn't apply to me (though I'm not putting it completely off the table).

That brings us to now. I'm exhausted. (^ ^ ;) I'll end this off with some memes I saved up while I was still in the closet. Happy Valentine's Day!