#i know i'm barely active these days

[donghyuckkies]

my lil sister collected all the toys her cats don't play with in a canister and gave them to me in case salem would like them, so i let him explore the canister's contents and pick out anything he liked. as you can see he immediately went for a blue plastic ball and has been playing with it ever since, either on his own or with me in a game of fetch 🥺

[iwanttobepersephone]

So, my mom was telling me how much free time I have, and I was like, "I have no freetime wth do you mean?????" And I just wanna see if this is like. A normal way to think of things?

Things I need to do:

Finish reading icebound land

Make a whole lotta art that I promised people

Research study abroad programs

At least one Dutch lesson a day

Keep my room clean

Talk to my friends so they know I love them (and so I don't go insane)

My math homework

Keep myself clean (showers, finally brushing my teeth after months, etc etc) so I don't go insane

Eat at 7pm

Various things I enjoy as to not go insane

All from 6pm to 9 pm, every day, after being at school from 8 am to 3:30 pm and then The Public (teen center) from 3:30 to 5:30, and I need to be in bed by 9:30 and asleep by 10:00

So, basically, I'm "on the clock" from 7 am (When I start getting ready for school) until 9 pm, with no breaks

But yeah no I totally have free time. Yeaup

[nexus-nebulae]

"why are you so worried abt random accidents, stuff like that rarely ever happens" well you see I'm too disabled to ever evacuate a situation on my own, so I'd rather be a safety advocate now than become a statistic later

[lightthefuse]

sorry i think i'm just in a weird mood today . many such cases

[uptownhags]

i just need to ??? about a man

[maisietheyellowlab]

Crufts is the only reason I can understand people getting crazy into watching sports and shouting at the TV

[loumauve]

I snapped today at work, and by snapped I mean I politely commented on a help desk ticket by summing up an mess of an (type of) issue that's come up for at least the fourth time in the 2+ months I've been managing user accounts, and asked the person responsible to fix it (himself for once) because last time I fixed his mess-up it took me two whole days to work out the details with at least four other colleagues from different departments and I really don't want to do it again. there's other shit that needs doing, I've been working 10+ hour days for most of this week already, so I need to cut down not add on more.

(good thing tho - at least we managed to fix the issue where the dataset of a newer employee got mixed up with another one of the same name and therefore wasn't able to apply for any of the access/accounts she needed. technically not entirely my area but it does impact us not being allowed to create an account for her so I figured I might as well track that issue down. took three days and at least three other people, but hey - it should all work out now. yay for that)

[hikeyzz]

.

[liebelesbe]

I really don't know how long I'll even be able to do my job 😬 bc of my long covid i mean

[doberbutts]

I've told this story before but the non-negotiable in allyship really reminded me of my gaming group. So one of my best friends is a twin and while I know *her* pretty well I don't really know her brother as well despite knowing him for roughly same length of time. We play videogames together and her brother asked to join us so at some point I took him aside and had The Talk with him because we at that point had a recently out trans fem within the group and she had just barely started hormones and hadn't done any voice training etc so I fully intended to head any trouble off at the pass.

So I basically had the "respect my friend's pronouns or die by my sword" discussion because while he knows I'm a trans guy and had so far been chill, I didn't know if that extended to all trans people.

What I did not expect was for him to pull an uno reverse on me and invite his two trans woman friends to game with us as well and did a "no no, *you* respect *my* friends' pronouns or die by *my* sword".

When I was working at Petco, one of my coworkers came to me having a total panic and anxiety meltdown and when I finally got them to tell me what was going on, the revealed they had sought me out because they were having Transgender Feelings and wanted advice. I ended up giving them my old binders that were too small for me but a perfect fit for them, and one of my roommates gave them their first masc haircut.

A few weeks later a customer speaking Spanish was saying many nasty things about my coworker and reacting with disgust. Another coworker- a cis gay man who speaks fluent Spanish- came to get me first so I could pull the other coworker away while he effectively cussed them out in Spanish. He told us the sparknotes version of the English translation and it was mostly horrifically transphobic drivel. My coworker had responded mostly neutrally to me being trans, but for him to be visibly steamed the rest of the day over my other coworker definitely bumped my respect for him.

And I've talked about how a cis lesbian friend of mine visibly bristles at anyone she even thinks is being shitty to me about being trans to the point of making them splutter and back down.

A cishet woman I am only sort of acquaintances with once caught me wincing at being she/her'd at a trial and asked if that had been happening all day. When I responded the affirmative, she stormed off and I didn't see her the rest of the day. The next day, any time anyone referred to me there was an audible pause before a deliberate choice to choose masc versions.

Another trans woman who is a friend of mine once beat up a bully for calling her trans boyfriend a heshe when they were in schooling together.

It's about holding the line. It's about making the active choice to show up for each other. And it's about linking hands and refusing to budge.

If you cannot hold the line with me by your side, then we are not moving together.

[vicariouseyes]

(Ignore some of the tags duplicating and being out of order I guess? I'm too tired and irritated to rewrite the rant. I have no fucks left to give. It's also storming here right now and our water alarm went off, and everything's fine but I just want to fucking sleep because it's 9:30pm and I have to wake up at 4:30am and I'm exhausted and in pain. And ran out of tags/characters to go through the whole rant in the tags as per usual. I'm so tired)

[eraserbread]

pregnancy hormones don't stand a chance around your husband, nanami ✧

→ needy pregnant f!reader, whipped nanami, sexually explicit content

"hope that books not more interesting than me," you whisper, propped against the open bedroom door, dressed in nothing but a lacey babydoll lingerie set. your four-month pregnant belly peeks through the lace delicately, and your features are on fire.

kento gives you a little peek. "was wondering what took you so long." he's replying, flicking his book to the next page. you're standing, pouting in his presence.

"hello? i'm horny."

"and you do look very tantalizing in that outfit."

"so come take it off."

he gives you another look, this time lowering the leather-bound book enough to see his face. you pose, crossing your knees and jutting out your hip. you can feel those dark hazels fall over your jutting breasts, then to your widening hips, and finally to your swollen, pregnant belly. his little girl's home.

so, he sits up straight, shoving his book to the side table and ushering you over. "come on, love."

"needy girl..." kento is whispering against the back of your shoulder, pressing kisses there and letting them linger. you're hovering over his lap in reverse cowgirl, tongue pushed from your lips as you focus on staying steady.

"let me have it." you slur, cunt milking obsecnely over his bare lap. he's got a thick fist tight around his erection, making sure you're stable and comfortable before he lets you take him.

"i want you to, but i don't want you to hurt yourself... how about I be on top?"

"—no." you insist, shaking your head violently. he won't let the grip he has on your thighs loose, so all you can taste is the bulbous tip of his familiar, blushing cock.

"why do you insist on being so bratty?"

"I don't want to bottom, baby slides up and into my ribcage and ugh.." you're shivering, and if it wasn't for the abnormal influx of hormones, you'd be turned off just thinking about the pain.

the baby kento pressed into you all those months ago, was an active little girl. she kicked the hell out of you whenever you slept on your back, leading to long nights with little sleep. kento knows this, so why he's telling you to just lie there and take it, is lost on you.

though he's stubborn at times, kento is largely well-trained by you, so he lets you take him like this. his grip starts to loosen, and you can finally feel the stagnancy of his cock start to peek through your sticky folds and into you.

filled to the brim with need, you shiver instantaneously. "oh, please, pleaseplease. all the way—mmgh!!"

he's chuckling behind you—actually breathing a stupid laugh from his nose at your blatancy. "you're shaking already?"

to answer him —you're cumming, and it's a release you've never felt before. his fingers are pressing into your belly, keeping you strong and at his mercy as you cream helplessly all over him. your thighs are shaking, eyes rolling back into your skull as you cry and whine.

it feels like every single one of your nerve endings is being fanned and flamed, driving you absolutely apeshit like you've never been touched a day in your life.

"oh, baby... love."

"sh-shut up."

"that feel good?"

"keep—just keep going." you're begging, drool dripping from your lips as his cock massages that sticky, spongy bunch of nerves at an angle only his cock could hit. he's circling his hips under you, tongue tracing licks across your neck.

your pretty lace panties are ripped and disregarded as the night goes on, and your teddy is busting at the seams, sticking to sweat and dipping off your shoulders. kento's big hand reaches to cradle your swollen breasts, growling in your ear as he fucks you just right... so perfectly and deep that you can feel the slick cervix kisses every time he bottoms out.

you're crazy, and fucked off of five orgasms that night.

thank god for pregnancy hormones—thank god for your husband and all his raw talent. sure, he'll bicker softly just to ignite your needy fires, then he'd give you what you want, exactly how you want, until you're sick with it.

what a thoughtful husband.

[dark-twist-fairytales]

"Man, I relate a lot to Frost, I wonder why?"

*suddenly gets hit a dawning fear that I never realized before*

"Ah... That makes sense."

[sciencelings-speaks]

i need someone to remind me not to get my hopes up when I work really hard on something for a long time and then it turns out no one will ever care a fraction of the amount that I do about it

[fushitoru]

seperation anxiety! a (clan head) gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ clan head!gojo x wife!reader

summary ⸺ satoru begs you to attend a meeting with the higher-ups, but not for the reasons you thought. inspired by this art by @/baobei-bu!

warnings ⸺ SMUT, gojo is a warning by himself, VERY public sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, no penetration, fingering, fondling, making out, panty-ripping, exhibitionism, kinda cucking but the only ppl humiliated and humbled are the higher ups, porn no plot, but plot if you squint, reader is a strong independent woman (until gojo charms her, bc who wouldn't turn into a cockslut for gojo?), this took me at least five hours to write for no good reason?, not edited (like always....)

a/n pls enjoy and thank u to the queen for making such delicious art (p.s. go to their twitter for nsfw ver i squirted)

general masterlist

“Pleaseeeee,” Satoru has his face buried in your chest, nuzzling in further while complaining. It’s almost comical how he—head of the biggest clan in Jujutsu—is leaning down to match your height. You, meanwhile, stand firm, arms crossed, regarding him with a mix of exasperation and reluctant affection as he leans down to meet your gaze. “Will you come with me?”

The question comes as the dreaded meeting with the higher-ups looms, a gathering he's been dodging all day. It technically began ten minutes ago, and you barely managed to wrangle him into his formal kimono just twenty minutes earlier. You sigh, fingers brushing his hair. “Satoru, you know what they think of me. I'm not exactly their favorite person.” You’re both standing in the middle of your shared bedroom, you imploring him to be on time for his meeting to avoid getting even further shit from the higher-ups.

Mind you, you’re the more rational one between you and Satoru—in fact, most of the people who know you would agree that you’re a very mature, wise person in general (with the exception of some circumstances, of course). And despite the respect your skill commands, the higher-ups have never warmed to you, not since you refused to play a pawn in their games. Marrying Satoru, the one jujutsu sorcerer they could never control, only amplified their discontent. They see you both as threats—powerful sorcerers bonded in defiance.

At the mention of "higher-ups," Satoru's pout deepens, and his pleading voice grows more insistent. “Pleeeease,” he drags out, practically whining. “I have separation anxiety.”

You feel a pang of sympathy. These meetings are miserable for him—hours trapped in a room with men twice his age, trying to dictate his every move. “I don’t know, Satoru…” you murmur, hesitating.

But Satoru takes advantage of your softening resolve, hugging you tighter, his face pressing into you again. “Don’t make me go in there alone!” he says, his voice muffled. “You have no idea how much you silence them. One word from you, and they all think twice. I’m already one step away from wanting to kill them all.”

A sigh escapes you as you realize he’s not letting up. And while you’re reluctant, you know that your presence, your opinion—one of the few he truly values—might actually give him a sense of calm in that harsh room. “Alright, alright,” you concede finally, hand smoothing the fabric of his sleeve. "But no making a scene." 

His answering smirk is smug, giving you a fat, sloppy kiss on your cheek that you’re not afraid to show your partial-disgust about. You all but have to wrestle him off of you white he’s smothering you in kisses, getting out something about how much loves you, oh so thankful to have such a wise wifey like you as you get ready in a kimono similar to his and head to the limo waiting outside of the manor you and Gojo reside in. 

As soon as you get in, Gojo turns sharply to Ijichi, who’s shifting the gear. “Put the divider up.”

“O-Okay, Gojo-san.” A little intimidated by the commanding tone in your husband’s voice, he quickly presses the button to activate the screen, and Gojo pounces on you, grabbing you and hoisting you up by your sides to put you on his lap.

“Satoru!” you exclaim, surprised as he captures his lips with yours. His hands roam your body as he moans, almost obnoxiously, because he knows you’re always paranoid whenever he initiates anything in public. Your crotch aligns with his thigh, big and stuffed with muscle as he drives your hips to grind on him, and despite yourself and your circumstances, you find yourself leaning into his touch.

“My pretty wife,” he purrs, now trailing kisses down your jaw and into your neck. “So pretty, so supportive.”

Despite his dizzying movements, you try to get a hold of yourself. “Satoru, we shouldn’t be doing this here. We need to discuss what to sa—”

“Fuck that,” he sighs, so breathless that you want to cave in.

“No, but—”

His eyes darken, and his hands start creeping up your legs, going slowly and slowly closer to your pussy. “Baby, you know I value what you have to say,” and his fingers graze your folds, making you leak even more with his teasing, “but I wanna listen to something else.”

He drags his index finger up and down your slit, making you whimper. His fingers then prod into your hole, putting pressure there but not quite delving in. “Satoru,” you whine out, clutching his upper arms as he has his way while toying with you.

“Yea, that’s what I wanna hear,” he groans, giving you a kiss. It is then that he rewards you with inserting his digit in, curling to hit your spot as he fingers you. HIs other arm is around you, holding your panties’ crotch to the side to allow him to touch you. “My good girl.”

As he’s touching you, the squelching sounds fills the enclosure you’re in and you’re desperately praying to God Ijichi can’t hear the lewd things the both of you are doing in the back. You’re just reduced to whimpering, unable to reject Satoru’s dizzying touches, his free hand leaving your panties to grope at your inner thighs, ass, and breasts. It’s like he’s devouring you with his kisses, urgent, as he continues curling his fingers. 

Between kisses, you try to get out a “Satoru—mmph,” smooch, “we shouldn’t be—mm” smooch, “shouldn’t be doing this here!” 

“What,” he drawls, and with the glint in his eyes you know the fucker’s trying to toy with you, knows what he’s doing is mischievous. “I can’t touch my wife?”

Before you could utter a response, however, the limo suddenly slows, and the sensation of using the brakes to stop the car makes you sober up. “We’re here, Satoru we need to go—-” As you’re trying to rip yourself off his lap, he pulls out the finger that was inside you and uses his hand instead to entangle it with the crotch of your panties, pulling and pulling until the cloth is nothing but shreds, falling off your body.

Oh my god, you were not paid enough for this shit.

With his oh-so-irritating eyes—the same ones that you spent despising in your early school years—he looks at you through his pretty white lashes as he makes a show of sniffing the now tattered shreds that were your panties and putting them in his pocket. Under your kimono, you can feel your slick escaping your panties as the cool air wafts through it, landing on your pussy. You look at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

He giggles, giving you a kiss on the cheek while helping you off his lap, putting a hand on your head to make sure you didn’t bump your head against the car’s ceiling. “Let’s go and deal with those hags, my love.”

To be honest, you don’t really understand why Satoru is so handsy today. He’s on some sort of man-ovulation, you think, as you stride into the room. Even ripping off your panties was a bit excessive, if not out of pocket (no pun intended). Breaking out of your thoughts, you grounded yourself in the present, noticing hostile eyes turned towards your husband, and then you. You match their barely-subtle glares with a stink eye of your own, holding your chin up as you walk past them dismissively. Just as you’re about to take a seat next to Gojo—being mindful of your kimono so you don’t flash any of these old bastards—one of them speaks up. 

“Gojo-sama, why is this woman here?”

You continue to take your seat, noticing Satoru’s jaw clenched. But right as he’s about to say something, you cut in for him. “This woman,” and you smile, deceptively sweet, “is the lady of the clan. It would do you well to remember the hierarchy of the Gojo clan.” You don’t need to turn to look at your husband to know he has a proud smile on his face, making no effort to hide his smugness. What shocks you instead is that he swings an arm around you, effectively dragging you closer to him until you’re basically sitting on his lap, and his hands go to roam your sides.

Now, some old grandpa starts talking, commencing the meeting, on their usual bullshit of the need for extermination of Sukuna’s vessel, but Satoru pays them no mind. Instead, what they receive in response is non-committal hums as his hands drag themselves up your stomach and down where your legs are crossed to the hem of your kimono, and then under. 

Any semblance of paying attention to the meeting and responding to their infuriating beliefs leaves your mind as you blank out, panicking that Satoru is trying to commit public indecency with you. As an argument erupts between the higher ups about something, you turn to Gojo to furiously whisper, “What is wrong with you today?! Cut it out.”

In your life, you’ve fought many curses, first grade and even special grade included as you climbed up the ranks of Jujutsu sorcery despite having a non-sorcerer upbringing. What you will never be able to defeat, however, is your husband’s charm. Satoru knows what he’s doing as he lets out a deep moan in your ear, making you squeak and become even more flustered, as he continues to make lewd noises, puffs of his breath fanning across your neck. 

a/n gojo the type to start moaning randomly to make you fold #sorrynotsorry 

The indecency of all of it—-Gojo basically whimpering in your ear sweet nothings like good girl, that’s my wife, gonna let me finger you in front of all these ugly hags, right?—-being loud in your ear but also just quiet enough that you’d only hear made you so wet, heat throbbing between your thighs as Satoru’s hands start rubbing your fold. It’s a teasing touch, one not enough to satisfy you but to stimulate you nonetheless. 

It’s just when his index finger starts slowly circling around your clit that you buck your hips slightly, making him look at you teasingly, peering down at you from above your shoulder. “Oh you liked that, didn’t you?”

“I hate you,” you puff out, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck as Satoru’s circles on your clit get more tangibly, simulating you oh so deliciously. To make sure you hold yourself up, you set your elbows down on the table, Satoru’s arms engulfing you as you’re forced to take whatever touches he’s giving you under the table. 

“She’s so loud,” he whispers, pointing out the noises your pussy was making as his digits roved over your folds. The squelches were tangibly there, audible to anyone who would strain their ears. You could tell your lack of response to the meeting was catching attention, because there were several eyes towards you, waiting for something; it was then you realized that they had posed a question but were simply too fucked out to respond. 

A voice comes out to reprimand your husband sharply. “Gojo-sama, this is hardly appropriate.”

Satoru chuckles, not stopping his ministrations as he picks up a cup filled with water, his smug gaze still turned towards you while observing and appreciating your every hiccup and reaction. “Can’t my spouse attend this meeting? I value her opinion above everyone else’s in this room, after all,” he drawls, lodging his chin in the curve of your neck. “Besides,” and he flashes a dangerous grin to the man who spoke out, “weren’t you the ones who were oh so worried about me not having an heir?” 

At this point, you’ve filtered out all noises, focusing and honing in on the sensation of your orgasm coming. His digits are playful, curling up to hit your g-spot repeatedly, his palm tickling your clit. Each time he hits your spongy spot a bout of electricity runs up your body, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm. 

“But guess what,” and he gives you a kiss on the cheek, despite the aversion the rest of the higher ups have to any displays of affection, “we can solve that problem right here, right now.” He punctuates it with a harsh sink of his fingers into your plush cunt, and, with that, you finally cream his fingers, a result of Satoru teasing you all day now. You try to temper the shakes wracking your body by slamming your fist against the table, trying not to moan out.

It seems that no one’s seen you riding out your orgasm out so visible, because there are gasps around the room at how obscene Gojo’s suggestion was. “It is shameful of you to be saying such things, Gojo-sama!” one of them sputters out, red with anger and outrage. 

Your husband not so subtly rolls his eyes. “Then don’t bring it up all the time, old man.” Satoru knows how touchy and vulnerable you are right after you cum, so he’s running his hands softly up and down your thighs to quell your quivers affectionately. “Actually, what about this? You all haven’t witnessed us consummate our marriage, correct?” He smirks. “What about witnessing the heir-making next time?”

general masterlist

a/n pls see the vision like i want gojo to claim me and rail me into next tuesday while the higher ups just watch uncomfortably like maybe i am a freak like that. like gojo would be so obsessed with how he's claiming you in front of the fuckers that piss him off so much...might do a part two if pookiesa like this :P

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :3

[pibsboots]

I've always had chronic fatigue. I remember being twelve, and an adult mentioned how I couldn't possibly know how tired they felt because adulthood brought levels of exhaustion I couldn't imagine. I thought about that for days in fear, because I couldn't remember the last time I didn't feel tired.

Eventually I came to terms with the fact that I was just tired, and I couldn't do as many things as everyone else. People called me lazy, and I knew that wasn't true, but there's only so many times you can say "I'm tired" before people think it's an excuse. I don't blame them. When a teenager does 20 hours of extracurriculars every week and only says "I'm too tired" when you ask them to do the dishes, it's natural to think it's an excuse. At some point, I started to think the same thing.

It didn't matter that I could barely sit up. It was probably all in my head, and if I really wanted to, I could do it.

When I learned the name for it, chronic fatigue, I thought wow, people that have that must be miserable, because I am always tired and I cannot imagine what it would feel like if it were worse.

Spoiler alert, if you've been tired for a decade, it's probably chronic fatigue.

Once I figured that out though, I thought of my energy as the same as everyone else's, just smaller in quantity. And that might be true for some people, but I've figured out recently that it absolutely isn't true for me.

I used to be like wow I have so much energy today I can do this whole list for sure! And then I'd do the dishes and have to lay down for 2 hours. Then I'd think I must gave misjudged that, I didn't have as much energy as I thought.

But the thing is - I did have enough energy for more tasks, I just didn't go about them properly.

With chronic fatigue, your maximum energy is obviously much smaller than the average person's. Doing the dishes for you might use up the same percentage of energy that it takes to do all the daily chores for someone else.

If someone without chronic fatigue was to do all the daily chores, they would take breaks. Because otherwise, they're sprinting a marathon for no reason and it would take way more energy than necessary. We have to do the same.

Put the cups in the dishwasher, take a break. Put the bowls in, take a break. So on and so forth. This may mean taking breaks every 2-5 minutes but afterwards, you get to not feel like you've run a marathon while carrying 4 people on your back.

Today, I had a moderate amount of energy. Under my old system of go till you drop, I probably could have done most of the dishes and wiped off the counter and then been dead to the world for the rest of the day.

Under the new system, I scooped litter boxes, cleaned out the fridge, took the trash out, cleaned the stove, and wiped off the counter and did all the dishes. And after all that, I still had it in me to make a simple dinner, unload the dishwasher, and tidy the kitchen.

It was complete and utter insanity. Just because I sat down whenever I felt myself getting more tired than I already was.

All this to say, take fucking breaks. It's time to unlearn the ceaseless productivity bullshit that capitalism has shoved down our throats. Its actively counterproductive. Just sit down. Drink some water. Rest your body when it needs to rest.

There will still be days where there is nothing to do but rest, and days where half a load of dishes is absolutely the most I can do. But this method has really helped me minimize those, which is so incredibly relieving.