#good distractions

[floral-hex]

It’s almost 6 in the morning. Can’t sleep. Admittedly lonely. So I’ll type a little text post to feel like I’m actually “doing” something.

Doubled my vilazadone. Started buspirone. I’ve been on a diuretic for my ears (it’s complicated) for about a week now, but whether it’s coincidental or not, my hearing has been pretty great since I started. But hearing comes and goes, so we’ll see if this holds in the coming weeks. My body is having trouble adjusting to all of these new meds, but I think it’s starting to rebalance itself. Chemicals, man…

Okay, I really don’t know what else to say here. Just bored on a Saturday night… well, now Sunday morning. Might go eat some captain crunch. I just started the buspirone and I think it’s maybe making me.. eeeeee 😬😬😬😬… you get it? Not anxious, just on edge. They said take before bed to get used to it, but maybe they meant “hey, take as you’re falling asleep, because if you’re awake when it kicks in, you will stay awake.” Or maybe it’s just normal loneliness and anxiety keeping me up. Who knows. This seems like a downer post, yeah? Sorry. It’ll be positive, ya. I’ll go make some cereal, watch some tv, you all can do whatever you’re doing this morning. There are some birds chirping outside, I’ll see if my cats are awake, it’ll be nice.

[christadeguchi]

MONKEY MAN (2024)

[colorful-horses]

not a phase

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

HOT, SINGLE, UNSTUDIED SPONGES. 3000 NAUTICAL MILES AWAY. Come sail the distance and read Tiger Tiger!

[bella-don-birdy]

When I’m starting to feel depressed so I rearrange my entire room impulsively and now I’m happy.

[beybuniki]

they should go on a fishing trip pt.1

[evercelle]

some favorite moments from orv read :)c

[hotcinnamonsunset]

not strong enough!!✨

[delicourse]

i miss them a little if im gonna be honest

[peachesofteal]

Simon with herding instinct on that physio snippet.... God what I'd do to be Reader (I'm not sick but I'm KO by my period, so I think I also deserve herding instincts and a cup of tea made by someone who is not me)

I think you deserve a little treat for your body torturing you Same reader as this (female reader)

"Fuck." You draw a deep breath through your nose and blow it out slowly, trying to push the pain away. You have a busy schedule today, and the 141 was expected to be back which meant you'd have the Lieutenant on your table at some point between now and twenty one hundred.

You do not have time for period pain.

Your appointments waltz in and out through the day, your focus turning from the stabbing, burning ache in your belly, quads and lower back, until the clock finally ticks down to nineteen hundred, and you slump over in your chair. A moment's reprieve, a second to get off your feet, exhaustion sinking into you, your longing for your bed and a heating pad stealing the whole of your attention. You can almost feel it, the hot shower, the comfort of your sheets, a cup of tea. Almost.

For now, you swallow more paracetamol and hope it lasts you through the rest of the day.

The door to the clinic swings open, and you don't need to peek outside the door of your office to know who it is.

No one has footsteps as heavy as his.

The Lieutenant.

The man you do not understand. The one who treated you like a small, fragile animal when you were sick, barging into your house and forcing you onto the couch, doling out medicine and hand feeding you warm broth. He pressed cold cloths to your forehead, held your hair and rubbed your back as you vomited.

The entire time you trembled with nerves, staring at the stitching of his balaclava, looking away each time his face turned towards yours. He hated you, why was he here?

Your fever broke, he disappeared. And the next time you saw him-

He went back to treating you just as he always did.

Coldly. Gruffly. Rudely.

Tonight would be no different.

So when you step outside and see him still in his full kit, arms folded across his chest, you wilt, already defeated, stomach tying itself in knots.

"Need m'back looked at." He barks and you fight the instinct to jump.

"Yeah, o-of course." The words are unsteady, you're unsteady, just like each time before, and he doesn't say anything else, just looks you up and down before brushing by you to get to the table.

He's the width of your workspace. Wingspan larger than should be humanly possible, width of his shoulders and back difficult to comprehend. He could tear you apart, if he wanted, so you've always treated him so carefully, staying focused, making sure you don't slip up and push his muscles too far or cause him pain. It's the same care you apply to all your patients, but with him, it's different. It's like diffusing a bomb.

His head is turned towards you as your fingers walk down the middle of his spine, working pressure points. Every time he twitches, or grunts, or even breathes deeply, you tense, but you keep your focus, kneading down to his sciatic nerve, pushing in deep, deep enough to make him groan, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

You don't even realize he's saying your name until he shifts on the table.

"S-sorry?" His eyes are locked the space between your legs, and you follow his sight line, gasping when you see what he sees.

Red.

Your standard issue khaki pants are stained dark red at your thighs.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm," you stumble backwards, hands flying to cover yourself, scrambling on how to get yourself out of the room and into the bathroom as quickly as possible. Your cheeks burn from humiliation. "I'm sorry, I uh- I'll be right back."

"Do you have another pair of pants?" He cocks his head.

I don't... I don't think so."

"Hmm." He continues to stare, and then, like he was having a conversation with himself, he swings off the table, reaching for the jacket he showed up in, before stalking towards you.

You stumble back, but you're too slow, and he catches you by your wrist, tugging you forward. You close your eyes. "Lieutenant-"

"Hush." The jacket goes around your waist, giant sleeves tied at your navel, the length of the hanging directly over where your pants are stained. You're not petite by any means, so the fact that this garment can even begin to cover you is a miracle in itself. But then again, he is massive. "Stay." He moves around the room, ducking into the other one with your desk, flicking the lights off, before grabbing the keys off the hook and shepherding you through the clinic to the front door.

"What... what're you doing?" There's a murderous look in his eye when he turns to you, and it freezes your blood.

"Takin' you home."

"I can get h-home myself." You hate the way your voice shakes.

"Covered in blood? You really want the entire base to see you like tha'?" The shame burns, and tears build on your waterline. "C'mon." His hand settles between your shoulder blades, essentially turning you into a ship with no sails, only a rudder at your back. Him.

He steers you into your house by your hips. You live directly off base, in civilian housing, luckiest of them all, if you're being honest, though in this moment, you're not sure you are so lucky.

"Leave your clothes in the sink." He orders when he lets you go, moving towards the kitchen.

"My clothes?"

"You know how to get bloodstains out of your clothes?"

"Oh, uh... n-no."

"Then..." he motions with his hands for your pants.

"Right now?" You squeak, and he nods.

"Now, pet." You fumble with the zipper and the button, hands trembling so bad you struggle with them. "Need help?"

"No! No... I got it." you get them down to your knees after a struggle, and then kick them off. Will he ask for your underwear too? He answers like he can ready your mind.

"Leave 'em on the bathroom floor. Shower, and then straight to bed."

"I'm not a child!" The protest is bold, boldest you've ever been with him, insecure, scared feelings coming forth in the outburst.

"Could've fooled me. Children need takin' care of, jus' like you." The words jam in your throat, stolen by the intensity of a cramp, and his eyes soften. "Go on up. I'll bring you somethin' for the pain, and some tea." There's no fight left in you, drained like the blood from your body, and your shoulders slump.

An hour later, in the dark, your door cracks. You're curled up in a ball, heating pad tucked against your pubic bone, buried beneath a mountain of blankets when the bed dips, the mass of the Lieutenant's weight settling next to your hip.

He sits you up, like a doll. Makes you take more paracetamol, finish a glass of water, and then pushes a hot tea in your hand.

By the time he's done, you slump back against the pillows, exhausted. Your eyelids go heavy, and he shifts you back to your side. You're too tired to argue with him, fight him, and when his fingers start applying counter pressure to your lower back, working through the tension, the tightness from your period, you let out a low moan. He chuckles. The man actually laughs.

"Why are you here?" You murmur in the dark, and he doesn't answer right away, sitting in the silence for too long.

And then-

"My mum always taught me to take care of my things."

[crowleyholmes]

"Rise of the Serpent"

Somewhere among his beloved stars, during the Great War - the moment redacted despite all his optimism finally lost hope, gave up on Heaven, and became Crowley.

[nitw]

i'm so used to popularized fanon jon sims designs that when i see someone draw him like a generic white guy i have to do a double take. who is this. where is my beautiful archivist

[uncanny-tranny]

This might seem like an "old man yells at cloud" situation, but it's just wild growing up and being told how dangerous distracted driving is - how, at highway speeds, you can traverse the length of a football field (100 yards, 91 meters) in a matter of seconds - how one split second sending a text while driving could result in a potential fatal crash, and then getting on the road as a driver and being surrounded by billboards. Their entire purpose is to catch one's attention, so they're lining major roads, which tend to be highways. How is it that you're told how important it is to never be distracted while driving, but still being advertised to?

At best, this type of advertising is an eyesore to pedestrians and motorists and a general waste of electricity to light it, and at worst, it is an active danger considering they are there to advertise and therefore, must catch people's attention.

I'm not even against advertising in theory, but this particular mode bothers me so much and I hate how pervasive it is - especially in large cities or highways.

[the-maw-consumes]

i saw this dress and i couldn't help but throw it on her

bonus:

[veyronvenus]

HES MAKING FUNNY FACES AGAINNN

[crowlixcx]