#dishing up lord

[bleue-flora]

Speaking of c!Tommy, I was watching the finale yesterday and noticed that c!Dream is standing on his bed when Tommy and c!Tubbo come to kill him, which damn that could either be a weird coincidence (especially considering he’s looking in a chest that is empty) or it’s meant to imply that they tried to assassinate him - like slit his throat or something in his sleep type deal… which damn that’s fucked up.

The heroes everyone - come to slice a man’s throat in his sleep after he hasn’t done anything to them in many months…

[maskedhatter]

OK, so cannonically in the books, Bilbo stayed in Rivendell after the fellowship left on their quest and didn't leave till Elrond and Co decided to bounce and head to the Grey Havens. Since we don't any evidence to the contrary, one can presume this is the same in the movies and as Elrond is the only one we see after all the other elves leave, he and Bilbo are the only ones left and the concept of the the Lord of Rivendale and a Hobbit being the middle earth equivalent of housemates is incredible funny to me.

[ahalliance]

the metatron is the scariest bitch in this series because he’s like . the only powerful supernatural figure that actually knows how to manipulate people

[gothhobbithoe]

Merry and Pippin would dress up as each other during Halloween and would only answer to each others names

[orcelito]

8 pm beddy bye bc im so tired I'm nauseous got NO chores done today could just barely feed the cats. It's honestly rough in here. Running out of plates. I only have my giant plates left. Need to clean the litter boxes. But if I smell even 1 more stink I will hurl so I am in bed to rest up so that maybe tomorrow I will be less tired. We will hope!!!

[greppelheks]

me after having a perfectly pleasant and fun time with other people: I need five days to recover from that

[youngestdaughtersyndrome]

Can i be a hater for a second. If i have to hear mother by meghan trainor again i am actually going to hunt her down for sport

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I don't have a lot of energy these days [because of The Horrors] so I'm looking at my day and my priorities and trying to plan how I'm going to spend what energy I have, because I do need to be able to rest and relax but there are also things that need doing and that is a careful balance for me.

I managed to [mostly] clean the kitchen last night so I've kicked it out of the priority list until next weekend. Unfortunately the living room, bathroom, bedroom, and my office all need cleaning too. I think of the priorities, my office and the bedroom are the most important to me, so I'll probably push the living room and bathroom until at least Friday.

There's also the laundry. I don't have any clean clothes and as we're moving into winter I need to be more rigid about getting that done because days where the clothes can be dried on the line will be more limited. So I definitely need to wash an outfit or two and hang them up in the next hour.

That's already a really busy day, so I'll probably cut it there. But it's definitely going to still leave me a lot of work this week. Half my cleaning, at least one more round of laundry, settling dog food for the next couple of weeks, planting the fall/winter greens, doing some set up work on my computer, work on some writing projects, cleaning out the fridge, and patching some worn clothes. My work week isn't insane atm, but it is definitely limiting. Right now I have 6+4+0+4+2+5+5= 25 non work/non-survival needs (sleep, food, shower, etc) hours available each week. I need to figure out a regukar distribution of these that means everything is getting done and I still have an hour a day to myself as often as possible. I think it's probably not realistic to give myself more than an hour a day for free time/fun, which is a bit unfortunate because I've found in the past that my floor tends to be getting 2-3hrs of free time most days because of how I deal with transition and decision-making.

25-7 [1hr per day] is 18 hrs, so I just need to decide where and how to distribute those in order to keep pace with things.

Lets say the garden needs 3hrs per week, the laundry needs 4 hours (specifically 2 sets of 2 morning/early afternoon hours), the cleaning needs an hour a day to get through a maintenance clean of the house, and 3 hours once a week to work down any deep cleaning that's built up. Which is....already three more hours than I actually have each week. So I guess I'll make a plan to work in the garden for 20-40min of 4 of my free hours each week.

It really doesn't leave me any wiggle room. Only about 4 hours a week that isn't explicitly allotted to something that needs doing, which means there will probably me a lot of weeks where I only get an hour or so at best across the whole thing for free time. I guess I've had a hard time accepting that at this point, having actual time for myself or a time-intensive project is only available if I've taken a day off work. I love my job, but it's ... not comfortable to realize that it's the only love in my life I actually have time for anymore.

I think that's probably why I end up here so much. It's this mindless little way of zoning out into my own head, dissociating away from the exhaustion, for a few minutes at a time. I keep thinking I want to use this space differently, make it more if the things I enjoy. But I think what I really want is just to actually have the time and energy to do things I love that take work. I keep crying a few times every day and I couldn't figure out why, but like

I dunno

Why **wouldn't** I cry a little every day? It's the closest I'm getting to actual emotional release or relaxation in my life. We'd probably all cry. Heck. A lot of us probably DO, capitalism being what it is.

I guess I'm starting to wonder why I'm doing what I'm doing. What is there left for me to sacrifice to this life? What is actually serving me about not just letting myself go up like a fireball and take my surroundings with me? What in the ever loving fuck am I fighting this hard for?

All I ever want, all I want now, is to be able to live. To really, actually live. How does wanting to live bring you this close to killing yourself, whether on accident or on purpose? What am I actually doing that is LIVING and what am I doing that is FACILITATION of living? It can't all be facilitation, or I'm not actually facilitating fuck all.

I'm 30 goddamn years old and I need to figure out what it looks like to actually love my life. I fundamentally refuse to zombify myself like this for everyone else around me forever.

[simptasia]

bless all the nurses who sincerely told me i'd make a great nurse, during the months my mum was dying and i was taking care of her near constantly to the point of around the clock emotional and physical exhaustion. and then i'd have to, thank them but gently inform them I'm Only Doing This Well Because I Have To

[lovesickeros]

WINDBLUME SPOILERS

we've officially seen more of rhinedottir's appearance then alice's....ITS JUST HER HANDS BUT THATS ALL I NEED. new oc just dropped /hj

single-handedly making all the morally bankrupt genshin women morally worse somehow after injecting them into sagau everyone say thank you!! /j

[swampstew]

❌ (n.sfw) sexual tension while tending his wounds w/ Eustass Kid

a/n: requested by @dxvilmanlev <3 aaahhh writing this sent me down bad into Kid hell, can't deny that. he's an angry little man but i'm very fond of him. want to put him in my pocket so he can yell at strangers who give me weird looks.

contains: gn!reader, n.sfw under the cut (not full on smut but very suggestive), mention of blood, dirty talk, heavy petting

word count: 933

“That’s nothing. You should have seen the enemies though.”

Kid tries hard not to flinch when you gently dab his bruised cheek with an alcohol-soaked cotton pad. You can tell that he was still high from the adrenaline rushing through his veins by the way he was fidgeting around in his chair, gesturing heavily with both hands. You duck from the metal arm swinging around and grab your utensils on the desk, can’t risk another shattered bottle of disinfectant.

While the rest of the crew was being treated in the infirmary like normal people, Kid had to burst into your shared cabin and tell you all about the fight, bleeding from several wounds but with a triumphant smile on his painted lips which reminded you once again why you had fallen for him in the first place. It was his pride and his joy, his strength and the roughness of his edges that softened whenever he was with you, when he let down his guard. He may bite but it was with love. And granted, it turned you on a bit.

You gently grab him by his chin to turn his face how you needed it, checking carefully if you missed a spot. His stern gaze lingered on you but he didn’t protest, a sly smile curling on his lips when your thumb brushes them, tracing the smeared lipstick.

“Like what you see, babe?” – “My throne, all beaten up? Barely.”

Kid growls and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap with ease. You’re mine. He leans back in his chair a little, giving you room to straddle him with your hands on his broad chest which he never bothered to cover, fortunately. You let your fingertips run over his skin, carefully inspecting his bruises. They were not that deep, but enough to draw out a sharp breath off Kid when you dab them carefully with a cotton pad. You both didn’t shy away from being rough, but the claw marks you usually left on his skin weren’t that bad.

Your fingertips brush his lower abs and you grin when he pulls you closer, bucking his hips a little. If he weren’t holding you in such a tight grip your hips would be drawing small circles in his lap already, grinding up and down on his thigh. He must still feel the throbbing arousal between your legs though, because he buries one hand in your hair and gently pulls you closer to his face by it, smirking when you let out a small gasp that is muffled by his lips meeting yours. Kid’s kisses were hungry and fiery, always leaving you begging for more until you moaned in his open mouth.

The cold metal of his mechanic arm runs down from your waist to your ass where your skin still remembers the sharpness of the pain his hand once left there. It makes you tremble in excitement and doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re trying to seduce a bruised man?”, he teases you, his voice cocky. You bite your lip and shake your head. Of course you weren’t, but you also had to admit that seeing him that rough and holding still under your touch gave you quite some feelings…

His hand glides from your ass to between your legs from behind, forcing them further apart. You hiss when the metal touches you through the thin fabric of your pants and your hips start moving on their own, finally free from his tight grip.

“At least that part of you is honest.”

You shut him up with another kiss, deep and greedy, your tongue slipping between his lips followed by two fingers as you draw out another groan from him. He was getting hard, you could feel him against your leg as you grinded on his thigh and metal hand. His bloody visage only turned you on more, the thought of knowing what beast was possessing this body and how hungry it was for you. How he could utterly destroy you if he wanted to, like fucking with fire.

You want him to devour you.

Just when Kid was about to unbuckle his belt to pull down his pants, your arms wrapped around his neck, hands buried in this red hair with your chest heaving, a knock on the door interrupts you. Kid barks a few curse words and tells the person to fuck off, that you were busy right now while you lick down his sweaty neck, when Killer’s voice from the other side of the door calls out to you.

“I made fresh pasta. Thought you could need some fuel.”

Kid and you exchange a glimpse, just when his stomach rumbles. It was hard to say No to Killer’s pasta, but there was also another hard situation to deal with here…

“Actually, I could use some fuel, you know. To fuck you longer and harder later?” – “I’m so glad you’re saying that because I’m starving.”

And just like that he grabs you and throws you over his shoulder, stomping outside determined, giving Killer the finger when he dares to point out the hard-on in Kid’s pants, guiding him the way to the kitchen. You just shrug apologetically, dangling over his back like that, and can’t help but smile about the whole situation.

Sure, you like to fuck, but you also love to be well-fed, leaning onto your lover as he spoons you a portion the size of your head in your bowl, deeply caring about you. You need all the energy you can get to withstand his cock later tonight…

[the-bluestreak-cat]

My extremely personal red flag is if you’ve never lived independently.

Do not open tags it’s just a personal vent and I hit the tag limit (30) and that’s never happened to me before ajskdlf

[vividbeast]

i just made a whole buncha food for my next two days worth of lunches and my paws and the house smells SO GOOD UGH

[greppelheks]

The depression is hitting me incredibly hard today

[filthygob]

the horrors are endless. or whatever the fuck should i tell my therapist about the reoccurring nightmares, sleep terrors and false awakenings that I've been experiencing for the past two weeks.

[writersdrug]

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of man who:

In your shared home, always sits with his legs spread. Manspreading king. Adores it when you cross your arms and give him a disapproving look, saying there's no room for you. "Course there is, luv. Jus' sit between my thighs."

Refuses to let you do simple tasks around the house, like making tea, folding his underwear, or putting away the dishes. One might think it's a sweet, husbandly gesture - but he's just super picky. You made tea in the microwave once, and now you're banned from ever touching his tea stash. Likes his underwear folded in a specific way, and you don't understand the importance of it. He got tired of you stuffing his underwear in his drawer, so now he folds it himself. And the dishes? Couldn't stand how you put them away. "There's no rhyme or reason to 'em." "I didn't think there had to be, Si-" "Just gimme the damn bowl." Fewer chores? You aren't complaining.

Looks like he's always on edge - and he is, kinda. When he's out with you, he can't help but be alert and watchful, and extremely protective of you. You've tried to get him to loosen up - it's the supermarket, what could happen? - but have just come to accept it as his nature. Plus, you get that giddy feeling when you see other men look straight down at the floor, avoiding Simon's stare as the two of you pass.

Is the grumpiest, poutiest, and most indignant man ever when he gets sick. Doesn't want you doting on him in case you catch whatever he has. But, wait - where are you going? "Get your ass back in this bed - 'm cold." Grumbles like a child when you force him to let you get up to grab him soup, tea, or medicine. And no, he doesn't care how sick he is, he's not wearing that stupid, floppy ice pack hat.

Brings Johnny over unannounced, and you've grown used to it. The moment you hear that Scottish yapping out the front door as the key unlocks, you grab a third plate for dinner - he insists you don't need to feed him, but you always make extra for Simon's lunch the next day regardless, and the last time he'd said that, he ended up grabbing an extra fork and picking from Simon's plate. Which, of course, had Simon up at 1 am making instant ramen because he was still hungry, but didn't have the heart to ask you to make him a decent meal. So, yes, Johnny would be fed.

Loves spoiling you on your birthday. What is a man if not someone who spoils his partner rotten? Orders in food from your favorite bakery, sets all your presents neat and nice on the table (the excellent wrapping job done by yours truly, Gaz), flower petals sprinkled on the ground and the table top (also Gaz's idea), and a seat on his lap so for you while you open your presents. Loves watching your face light up, and each little "you remembered?!" fall from your lips as you open each gift. Scoffs and shifts in his seat. "I's not that much of a fuss, luv..." as you squeal excitedly, but you know he's biting back a proud smile. The blush, he can't even attempt to hide.

Is somehow a magnet for your young nephews. Every time he comes along to your sister's place, he's either making conversation with her husband in the living room, or he's interrogated and cornered by her two sons. And, lord help him, he doesn't understand it either. He'd always expected kids to look at him like a monster, but, especially with these two, that was never the case. They'd ask him for stories about "being in war" - half of the time, he'd make up some not-too-gory adventure, sparing them the details of real war. The rest of the time, he'd talk about "Soap, my mate who blows everything up." And they'd listen with wide eyes and jaws on the floor.

Has scared you unintentionally, more than too many times. He'd come home at three in the morning from a mission, and all he wanted was to quietly peel his dirty uniform off and slip into bed with you. His main intention was to avoid waking you up, because you'd force him to shower before joining you in bed - and he was too tired for that. However, you'd been rounding the corner, up for your 3 am glass of water - you screamed as you saw the hulking, dark figure by the front door, launching your phone at him. He'd caught it effortlessly and shoved it into his back pocket. "What've I told ya 'bout using the bat?" "I was just getting water!" "I coulda been anyone." "Well you're not." "Missed ya, luvie." "Missed you too- but you're grimy. Go take a-" "No." He grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder, ignoring your protests as he hauled you back to bed.