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yellowocaballero · 4 years ago

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Web!Jon Roleplays Canon!Jon: With Mixed Results?

I wrote this a while ago and now that Sucker’s Bet is finally finished I can post it! Yay! This takes place an indeterminate amount of time after the end of Sucker’s Bet. The exact opposite thing happened with this story that usually happens: I had a very depressing idea and then I was REALLY METICULOUS to make sure it was fluffy. What’s fluffier than healthy discussions about boundaries, needs, and consent?

CW for some unnegotiated roleplay stuff? The same topics that were hit in Sucker’s Bet are hit here. Suggestion of future sexual activity/language but no follow-up.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Sasha chanted, thumping her glass on the table and cheering uproariously. “Do it! Do it!”

Tim laughed drunkenly, slapping the table too. “Double dog dare you! Do it! Do it!”

Good lord, this was like secondary. Jon rolled his eyes, hiding himself behind his cider. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Martin.

Sasha: thought it would be funny, scientific curiosity. She wanted to see some magic, and Jon was a magician. Little more than a pub bet.

Tim: similarly, morbid curiosity. Had more complicated feelings about the whole thing, but that was partly why he was doing it: make everything normal, settle in, stop awkwardly hiding parts of us from each other. Thought that this would help them make friends, also a pub bet.

Martin…

They probably wouldn’t have asked if they weren’t drunk as hell.

Or maybe they would have. Jon was silently hoping that Tim and Sasha would become more comfortable with him. He had a lot of tricks and methods to make them more comfortable with him, but he had decided very firmly to relax. If Tim and Sasha didn’t like him...well, he had already done possibly the douchiest thing possible to them, and they hung out with him anyway, so their expectations were probably on the floor.

Granted, that was mostly in Martin contexts. He rarely hung out with them alone. They were probably only putting up with him because he was Jon’s boyfriend. Jon knew how it was, and frequently exploited it: you think you’re part of his group until you realize he’s terrible and break up with him, and then suddenly you have no friends, so you never get around to breaking up with him and you’re never happy and you never find someone you’re happy with.

Martin assured him frequently that they liked him. He suggested that Jon ask them, which he may have gotten from a CBT workbook that he surreptitiously read, but Jon was well aware how that put people in an awkward position. If they didn’t like you, what would they do - tell you?

Well. Tim would. Yeah, Tim would. This was why Tim was trustworthy and a good person. Jon loved people who were incapable of lying, it was like watching zoo animals through binoculars.

They wouldn’t have asked if they weren’t drunk as hell. But they were drunk as hell, and there was nothing better than pub tricks.

“What I don’t understand,” Tim said, in that kind of dancing lilting way that only the half-drunk were capable of, “is how you convinced everyone that you knew how to do that job when you, like, don’t read anything more complicated than fashion magazines.”

“I knew he couldn’t do the job,” Sasha said furiously, draining her gin and tonic. “I knew it, but did anybody listen?”

“We all knew, honey.”

Jon shrugged, adjusting his long linen shirt that hugged his torso flatteringly. Honestly, if Jon had been born a woman he would have been too powerful. “That one involved a little bit of spider powers,” he admitted. “But not much. I didn’t do much other than record statements. Telling Sasha that we ‘appreciate her initiative’, but, like, grudgingly, meant that she actually did most of the work.”

Sasha’s jaw dropped in indignation. “I did most of the - shit, I did! I did all of the archiving stuff, didn’t I?”

“I just looked really hurried and spent a lot of time in my office,” Jon said apologetically. “If you always sound stressed then people just assume that you’re doing things. I was really chatting up people on Tinder most of the time.”

“I was not paid enough,” Sasha grumbled, leaning back in her seat.

“You keep making yourself out to be lazy,” Martin said mildly. He wasn’t drinking, designated as the sober one of the group tonight. “But you were using that downtime to do other work for your other job.”

Jon himself had a drink or two and he was pleasantly light headed - not drunk, but tipsy enough to feel confident and to shut up all of the annoying anxious voices in his head. It was refreshing, and felt very good. That being said, when Jon was fourteen and Gerry sixteen Agnes sat them with a twenty slide powerpoint presentation on how drinking culture in the UK facilitated alcoholism without recognition of it, so these are things you should never do while drinking and this is how to prevent binge drinking and unhealthy drinking habits. Jon didn’t always listen - alcohol was God’s solution for anxiety - but he tried. Agnes also tried that with Annabelle, but she just hissed at her and downed an entire energy drink at once while staring her in the eyes. They figured Annabelle wasn’t at risk.

“I still don’t believe you,” Tim said imperiously, slamming his pint on the table and making his beer slosh. “If you did the whole schtick now, it would come off so fake.”

“Definitely. I never fall for the same thing twice,” Sasha bragged. “It would obviously still be Jon - what, Hawthorne? Jon Hawthorne. Or was it Hastings…”

“Hawthorne today,” Jon said politely. But he just shrugged, leaning back in his own seat and sipping delicately at his hard cider. “I can guarantee that, if I pulled out that persona again, nobody at this table would be able to see through it.” At Martin’s surly look, Jon appended, “Maybe Martin would.” Everybody shot him slightly incredulous looks, and he sighed. “I promise I’m good at my job! I’m only...transparent when I’m socializing outside of a persona. You all caught me at a weird time in my life.” He shuddered. “Vacations. Never again.”

“The problem with all of that was vacations,” Martin said flatly.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Sasha chanted, thumping her glass on the table and cheering uproariously. “Do it! Do it!”

Tim laughed drunkenly, slapping the table too. “Double dog dare you! Do it! Do it!”

Good lord, this was like secondary. Jon rolled his eyes, hiding himself behind his cider. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Martin.

Sasha: thought it would be funny, scientific curiosity. She wanted to see some magic, and Jon was a magician. Little more than a pub bet.

Martin…

In Martin, Jon saw the same thing that he had always seen. Even stronger, today, than ever. For a month, back then, it had been little more than intrusive thoughts and some light, bored mental meandering. For two, three, months, it had grown deeper and deeper, so thoroughly that it was a surprise. Jon had done a very good job with him. Granted, he had just meant to flirt to keep him complacent, not to end up...doing all of that, and going through all of this, and ending up here. That had never quite been in the plan.

Martin thought that this roleplay would he really fucking hot. Which, ultimately, swayed Jon: he liked it when Martin thought he was hot. It wasn’t hard, but somehow it meant much more to him than it did from anybody else. It was very strange: that something so easily attained was treasured so highly. Deeply nonsensical.

“I’m not doing it,” Jon said firmly, and both Tim and Sasha groaned. “It’s not a party trick, guys. Martin, can you scooch? I need the loo.”

Jon, of course, took a slightly meandering approach to the loo. He ditched his pea coat and scarf at the table hidden underneath the tablecloth just out of sight. He fetched a pair of abandoned glasses left on a pub (their owner was annoying a woman), grabbed an abandoned blazer off the back of a chair (its owner was almost passed out drunk, Jon could give it back before the end of the night). He slipped into the bathroom and added his new accessories, taking care to tuck his shirt in. He slipped a hairband from his wrist and quickly did his hair up in a messy bun - he really did need a lot of gel and some combs to get it in his bun normally, but he’d do the best with what he had. Jon glanced in the mirror, looking himself over and fixing his bun as best as he could. He took a deep breath, then two.

There was always that moment: when Jon slid into it. It felt like skidding on ice, thrust someplace else. Or like an exhale, centering himself as his molecules rearranged. It was a thrilling feeling, often accompanied by a heady thrill or adrenaline.

No matter how many times he did this, it was still fun. Jon loved it. He really, really loved winning. And Jon always won.

When Jon walked back to the table, his posture was uncomfortably stiff yet visibly hunched over. Look proud and professional, but deeply feel uncomfortable with the noise and sound and clamor of the pub. Anxious and socially awkward, but trying to hide it - that was familiar.

Jon halted at the table, where Tim was already telling Martin about a snowboarding accident. They stopped short when they saw him, one hand worrying at his blazer as he scowled at them. “Martin, will you move over? I can’t get to my seat.”

“Uh,” Martin said intelligently.

“Any day now,” Jon said frostily.

Martin quickly got up and let Jon slide in. Jon, who had been sitting pressed up against Martin’s side, took care to slide much further away so he was more hovering at the edges of the group - not enough that it was awkward, but definitely a bit to the right of Sasha directly ahead of him. He avoided eye contact with everybody, picking up his drink and sniffing it suspiciously. The accent was the easiest part of it, the only wrinkle carefully making it almost perceivably fake.

“Holy shit,” Tim said loudly, voice rising in incredulity, “you actually did it?”

“Did what?” Jon asked. He carefully took a sip of the drink, before grimacing in distaste. “Absolutely vile…”

“You did the thing,” Sasha said, so excited she was almost bouncing up and down. “You’re doing the thing, holy shit! That was such a Jon face!”

“Er. If you say so.” Jon busied himself with the drink again, obviously pantomiming sipping as he fiddled with the arm of the blazer. Under his breath, yet very audibly, he muttered, “What a waste of time…”

“Man, this is like, what, LARPing?” Tim batted at Sasha’s arm, looking excited. “I’ll play along. Remember we used to do this together?”

They had. Jon had to pretend that he was unbearably awkward about the whole thing, yet secretly excited to be invited. In reality, pubs were such a cornerstone of Jon’s existence he found them dull as bricks, but it had been fun to channel someone terrified of too many people in a room.

Sasha’s chin was propped on her hand, giggling. “What’s your organization system for the files, huh, Jon? What’s your organization system? How are you sorting the documents?”

“Tim told me that you don’t talk about work at pubs,” Jon said defensively. “He said you talk about - what was it -” He looked at Tim planatively, obviously lost. “Hobbies? You talk about hobbies?”

“How do you organize the files, Jonathan?”

“Yes, Boss, hobbies,” Tim said faux-sympathetically. He put a hand on his heart, pulling a face. “You gotta have hobbies, right? Shopping, haircare, stealing money, getting fake married?”

“That’s all for his job,” Martin muttered.

“I have hobbies,” Jon said defensively. He adopted an expression of panicked thought, groping for something. “I like...television.”

“What television, Jonathan,” Sasha said flatly.

Jon pretended to sweat. “Television shows?”

“Unrealistic!” Tim slapped the table. “Everyone at least knows a telly show, no matter how much of a nerd they are. Fakey Jon Sims.”

“I do!” Jon protested. “I - well, not recently, but - documentaries count. I watch documentaries. I was watching this fascinating one about the Jonestown Massacre, and the intriguing series of events the lead into the mass death -”

Then he was off, shifting into his confidence when infodumping. Confidence because he was so wrapped up in the joy of sharing information he forgot that it kind of included dominating the conversation, and he watched with satisfaction as everybody’s eyes started glazing over. Everybody except Martin, who was scrolling through his phone looking disinterested.

Looking. His cheeks were a little flushed. Jon patted himself on the back.

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, cutting himself off, “am I boring you, Martin?”

But Martin didn’t even look up. “I’m not participating in this.”

“Aw, come on,” Tim wheedled. “Look, he’s even doing the Mah-tin thing. You always started fanning yourself whenever he did that.”

Sasha was, very drunkenly, taking notes. “It’s uncanny. Like a dead person brought back to life and annoying you.”

“Are we really making this entire outing about Martin?” Jon asked, pretending irritation. Play into it. Bloke wouldn’t admit it, but there was a reason he had liked Jon back then. It wasn’t for his sparkling personality, beyond the little flashes of something more tender underneath. Have your cake and eat it too. “You said that this would be fun, Tim.”

Tim just laughed. “Aw, Martin’s not fun?”

“I never said that,” Jon said stiffly. He glanced at Martin out of the corner of his eye, clearly working himself up to say something. When he spoke, the words were almost forced out. “What..are you playing?”

“Sincerely buzz off,” Martin said flatly.

Jon couldn’t help it - his cheeks genuinely burned. He looked away, careful to keep an expression on his face as if he was examining the molding because Martin had said something socially awkward, but hot shame flared in his chest.

He made it seem as if he downed his drink. “Excuse me, I’m...getting us more drinks.”

Jon made a show of slightly stumbling as he made his way to the bar. Martin had given him the permission to extort drinks out of people through flirting and judicious eye-batting - guy was very strictly monogamous but also practical - and in barely a few minutes he had enough collected for their table. He carefully walked them all back, settling them on the table, and waited for both Tim and Sasha to grab their drinks and start enthusiastically downing them.

He wanted to drop it, ask Martin if he made him uncomfortable, reassure him. But that would ruin the momentum of this, the steam train picking up speed, and it was impossible for Jon to miss the dual things that Martin was feeling.

Super turned on. Also very uncomfortable. Jon decided that he was uncomfortable because he found it attractive, and he was dealing with some guilt over that.

It would be fun to reassure him, but Jon had the sense that he wouldn’t like him to do it in public.

Soon afterwards, with a little more friendly yet understated performance from Jon and uproarious laughter from Tim and Sasha, Sasha’s head had begun dropping onto the table more frequently than not and Tim decided that it was time to take her home. More accurately, Jon knew, to Tim’s place, as it was closer. He’d drop her on the couch, he’d slide into his own bed, and he’d think about a different situation. She’d wake up in the morning, eyes squinting against the harsh sun, and hope for a moment - but no, the couch again. Neither were willing to bridge the gap.

Jon and Martin stumbled out too. Jon had been intending on spending the night at Martin’s place - Jon loved cuddling, it was his favorite thing - and Jon made a show of acting slightly drunker than he was as Martin thoughtfully kept a hand on his back. He stumbled out the door, gripping Martin’s coat and giggling. He had strategically returned the blazer back to the guy, and Martin had his other clothing draped over his arm.

“And, in my opinion,” Jon stated decisively as he swayed, “as part of our anti-colonialist efforts we should give Ireland back to the Irish -”

“You can drop it,” Martin said, gently guiding him towards the tube station. They still had an hour before the last trains ran. “Seriously.”

Jon giggled, before slightly bending down to whisper in Jon’s ear. He kept the accent, the inflections, everything. “But you really find it hot.”

Martin sputtered as Jon laughed uproariously - not his laugh, the Archivist’s laugh - and they teetered towards home.

On the tube Jon kept a hand on Martin’s thigh, and Martin kept glancing and glancing towards him, and Jon would shoot him a prissy look as his hand wandered up his thigh, and Martin would get redder and redder.

When Martin unlocked his flat door it took several times, with his hand shaking slightly, and Jon hid a smirk behind a hand. On some level, he was always roleplaying when he did these kinds of things, but with Martin it was usually so authentic that this was positively novel. Jon’s mind was already furiously churning as he set up the scene - yes, that would be exactly right, this would be fun -

Jon stumbled inside after Martin, who was already taking off his coat and hanging it on the peg. He put Jon’s coat up too, glancing at Jon out of the corner of his eye.

The Archivist wouldn’t really notice something like that, so he didn’t either. “Lord, Martin, your flat’s as messy as your desk.”

Martin still looked a little pained, even as his cheeks were quite red. “Yeah, ha ha. My desk wasn’t that bad, you were just being picky.”

“Yes, I suppose I must apologize for that.” Jon drew himself up to his full height, stepping close to Martin - closer than the Archivist ever had. “Martin, I’m afraid - well, I have a confession.”

“Oh, boy,” Martin said.

“Don’t get snippy with me,” Jon said prissily. But he leaned in, keeping his expression just on the faintest edge of innocently scared. “I never wanted to admit this. It was just so inappropriate, what with me being your boss and all. I always - well, I always knew how you felt about me. It was...charming.”

Obviously involuntarily, Martin squeaked a bit. Adorable.

Jon reached out and put a hand on the back of his neck, leaning in. “Truth be told, I was looking at you too. I was just embarrassed. I didn’t like admitting it. But I couldn’t help thinking about it.” That was, obviously, how Martin’s fantasies had always worked. Not realistic, but realism wasn’t the point of your absent daydreams during a boring workday. “But I’m tired of hiding it. I really want you, Martin. I always have. I want you to bend me over my desk and -”

“Shut it off, Jon!”

Jon shut it off. They had agreed on the phrase ages ago, the very solid cue to drop all of Jon’s shit. Jon regularly kept up the shit just because he found it entertaining, and oftentimes comforting, but Martin sometimes found it unbelievably obtrusive when he was trying to have a serious conversation. It was difficult - Jon got panicked during serious conversations, so he usually defensively threw his shit back up again, and it was a self-perpetuating cycle that had frustrated and upset the both of them until they had sat down and talked about it. If Jon couldn’t keep up the conversation without lying, then they both walked away and came back to it later. It was work. But it was good work, the kind that allowed for the good stuff to flourish. Uncomfortable, messy, and real - but maybe that was what Jon liked about it.

“Sorry,” Jon said. He straightened, letting every expression drop away until he was back at his favored neutral. He knew that Martin found it unsettlingly blank, but he rarely complained. “Did I go too far with the desk thing?”

Martin just stood there, carefully controlling his breathing. Jon waited, letting Martin pick through his thoughts and try to shape them. It was probably more difficult than usual, considering how well Jon had been striking the right notes, so he gave him some time.

Finally, Martin said, “I get having fun with Sasha and Tim. I get us doing roleplay, privately, together. I get you doing a role for your job. But the Archivist gig has a lot of baggage with it, for all of us. Do you understand why I feel weird about you pulling that into bedroom stuff?”

“We watch TV in your bedroom,” Jon pointed out. At Martin’s flat, unamused look, Jon had to fight the urge to shuffle his feet. “I sincerely don’t understand your reaction. I’ve seen your search history -”

“Jon!”

“Research for before we got together, don’t think anything of it,” Jon said quickly. “But doesn’t that make it better? It’s not often somebody gets everything they want from somebody unattainable. Or, you know, not real, but…”

“Jon, for a mind reader you can be terrible at picking up cues sometimes,” Martin said, exasperated. “I know your reasons for doing stuff like this -”

“I’m fantastic at picking up cues,” Jon corrected, oddly huffy. “Because I always know what people want. Their desires, even if they don’t like admitting it to themselves. Do you have any idea how many people on this Earth are bisexual but won’t admit it?”

But, somehow, that just made Martin’s eyes widen a little, as if a realization had cracked. “It cannot be comfortable knowing how many people are attracted to you when you’re sex-repulsed.”

“It’s fine,” Jon lied. “I like it.”

“Jon.”

“Whatever. I got used to it.” Jon shrugged. “I like it when you like me. You’re my boyfriend. I want to make you happy because I like seeing you happy. That’s my ulterior motive.”

Martin sighed again, but thankfully he didn’t look as stressed anymore. Win. He broke away from Jon, instead dropping heavily onto the couch, and Jon hesitantly sat down next to him. His costume abruptly felt stifling, and when he saw Martin’s eyes linger on the bun he undid it and untucked his shirt. God, his hair was a wreck.

“The Archivist has baggage for me,” Martin said quietly. “I know how I feel, and I try not to be embarrassed over stuff that most people go through and feel. Had enough of that internalized homophobia for a lifetime. I...can’t avoid you knowing how I feel, or what I’m thinking. I know you can try not to look, but you can’t completely control it either. I understand all of this. But you knowing what I want isn’t the same as me asking for it. Do you understand that difference?”

Jon shrugged uncomfortably.

“Jon. Do you get that I felt uncomfortable because what you did was unnegotiated and you didn’t ask my permission?”

The feeling of embarrassment and guilt spiked higher, and Jon looked away and stared fixedly at some admittedly quite pretty art on the wall. “You’re making it sound bad.”

“I should have shut that down earlier. That’s my bad. You should have stopped to ask. Your bad. We’re both at fault, so we shouldn’t be mad at each other. Are we all good on that?”

Jon stayed silent for a little bit, staring at the wall, trying his best to assemble his own thoughts in his brain. He wasn’t smart. He had problems assembling the words for the complex and large and overwhelming feelings he felt so often. How was Martin so good at breaking this down and putting it into words, when Jon could barely even express how he felt?

Well, Martin probably had more practice…

“You’re so frustrating,” Jon whispered. “You don’t like asking for what you want. You do make me guess. You’re embarrassed to say any of it - the things you want me to do, or the things you like. You do want me to read your mind, because everybody wants a mind reader in their relationship. Especially when it comes to sexual things. But what I can’t read is the...choices you make. Just what you want. And you always make a choice that’s contrary to what you want, and I can never guess. So I do what you want, which is always the exact opposite of what you want me to actually do, and…”

After a second of silence, Martin said, “I need to work on that. I have to be more vocal too. But, Jon, nowhere in that did you mention what you want.”

Jon turned back to look at him, and saw that Martin’s expression was creased. With a mix of - sadness, frustration, conviction, dedication. Imagine being that dedicated, about anything. “Nothing about me minded this time,” Jon said, flabbergasted. “I liked it. I like playing, I like making you feel good, I like winning.” Martin opened his mouth, and Jon quickly said, “Don’t pretend that socialization isn’t a game that everyone is always trying to win, you liar.”

Martin shut his mouth. He could not deny it. Finally, he said, “I hate how you have to say this time.”

He couldn’t help it - he cringed, very hard. Terrible memory. Terrible, terrible, terrible - “I don’t want you to touch me the rest of tonight,” he said, in one rushed breath. Georgie told him to say it. Georgie, Melanie, and Martin. He was supposed to say this.

“Of course, no problem,” Martin said, quickly yet calmly. “Was there anything in that I shouldn’t bring up again?”

“That never happened,” Jon said, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest. “Stop bringing it up, it’s over, I’m fine - I’m going to bed!”

Hilariously, it was Martin’s flat, but Jon needed to dramatically retreat, so he ended up claiming Martin’s bed for his own. He was very aware that Martin would grab the couch for tonight, because Jon had asked him to. So he was left shoving himself into the pyjamas that he left at Martin’s, wrapping his hair, and sliding under the covers.

But he wasn’t really tired. Jon’s mind kept churning and churning, trying desperately to tease out his own feelings, before realizing that he really didn’t want to know.

It was a really good conversation. Jon was glad that they had it - that Martin hadn’t gone along with it if he wasn’t comfortable, that he had actually pointed out where Jon crossed a line. Nothing about it was bad. Everything was a work in progress - Jon and Martin most of all.

So much of them clashed. So much of them cared about each other more than the clashing. They ran up against these things incessantly, and Jon felt as if they worked it out every time.

He would definitely make Martin breakfast tomorrow. Lots of bacon, although Jon never ate the stuff. He would have to clarify that the way this ended - it wasn’t Martin’s fault, not really. He would probably also have to clarify that his random terror wasn’t something that was any of Martin’s business. He was the one person Jon didn’t want to talk it over with, actually.

Martin respected Jon a lot. More than Jon thought was rational, considering...himself. He never vocalized what exactly he wanted, because he respected that it was never in consideration. Jon had even seen him want it less and less - it barely even came up anymore. Except, of course, when Jon teased on purpose…

When Jon teased on purpose and didn’t tell Martin that he didn’t want something so then he made himself -

It was a good conversation, except Jon ruined it because something stupid that didn’t mean anything at all sent him into abject shame and terror.

This was so hard. Jon hated thinking this much. He decided to fall asleep instead. Much simpler.

In dreams, where everything was an illusion and nothing meant anything at all, nobody minded that none of it was real.

Tim: omfg im so fucking hungoverrrr I hate being 34

Tim: good time last night tho

Tim: also like it WAS funny but you know we like you best as you, rite? U normally dont so Ill validate: liking you best as you, always

Sasha: THE DOCUMENTS, JON!!!

Sasha: Tim says you might have gotten the wrong impression from last night so I’ll also validate: all of you is good. Even the bad parts are good. Does that make sense?

Sasha: Tim said that that sounded ‘backhanded’ but you know what I mean

Sasha: Man why is it so hard to just say what I mean!!!

Sasha: Life’s stupid. Tell Martin I said hi.

#my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #tim stoker #sasha james #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfiction #jon in sb: i will pretend to be the man who was your friend if it'll make you like me #jon here: HAHA KNOW WHAT'D BE HOT?

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theanxiousstudentblog · 3 years ago

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What I've learned from the first year of university: the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Three years later than expected, I finished my first year of university. At first, admittedly, it didn't feel like much; I submitted my final assignment, logged off of my student account, and went to watch the new series of The Real Housewives. It wasn't until a few weeks had passed that I was finally hit with how much this milestone meant to me and all the emotions that came with finally getting through the first academic year as a university student. This may not seem like a big achievement to some (I remember how in sixth form we were always made to believe that the first year of university was a piece of cake and way easier than A-levels) but, for me, it has been a rollercoaster ride of ups and downs. These emotions and thoughts are what have inspired me to write this post, specifically the feeling that university can be very very different from what you expect.

How I got here.

When I was younger, one of my sole dreams was to go to university. This may have seemed odd to some as I suffered from extreme anxiety when I was younger and actually refused to go to school between the ages of 7 and 9. However, it was never the academic side of schooling that worried me but the social side and being away from my family. I loved learning and I knew that I wanted to take my academic career to the highest possible level I could. The idea that I could pick any subject that I was interested in and do a whole course solely centered on teaching me as much as I could absorb was infatuating to me. It was for this reason that I spent so much effort making sure that I achieved good grades, despite my time off. I had my sights set on a prestigious university in London and in 2018 I received an offer to study there. However, instead of feeling excited about my future, I was engulfed with a feeling of dread. Unfortunately, due to events in my private life, my anxiety which had previously been kept under control by CBT and medication began to skyrocket. I would later learn that I developed complex PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) during this time. For the sake of keeping this blog post to a somewhat reasonable length, I will keep this account brief by saying that these difficulties eventually led to me pulling out of the London university and I decided to go to a local uni closer to home after taking a year off for my mental health (for a more detailed account you can look at one of my previous IG posts published 24/05/20).

Expectations vs...

I was excited for what awaited me at my local university; it was close enough to see my family whenever I wanted but still gave me the independence that I felt I needed to grow. Moving day came and went and it seemed to be going pretty smoothly, albeit some hiccups that came with my anxiety. It is important to note that I gave the university's wellbeing service a heads-up about my conditions before moving in so, at first, I felt confident that if I had any issues they would be able to work through them with me. However, over the next couple of weeks, my anxiety grew and grew, finally reaching its peak when my housemate turned around to me and told me that I needed to shut it about my mental health issues and stop hanging out with her. This triggered a major episode in my PTSD and I suddenly felt like I was spiraling out of control. However, despite my attendance beginning to drop and the multiple times I was having to leave lectures early due to panic attacks, I still sustained a level of confidence that my university would be able to give me the reasonable adjustments that the wellbeing team had spoken to me about before starting the term. Sure, they hadn't got back to my emails with any tangible support in weeks, but they couldn't just leave me like this...could they? All throughout my schooling, I was made to believe that educational settings were environments where any appetite to learn was nurtured and fed; education meant an opportunity to achieve anything you worked hard enough for, despite your background, disability, or start in life. Wouldn't universities be the ultimate conceptualization of this meritocracy?

Reality

Unfortunately, this vision would be quickly shattered by the stark reality of my treatment by my head of department and the well-being team. I go into more detail about this treatment in the IG post mentioned previously, but in summary I was given two choices: I get my attendance back to 100% with no support/reasonable adjustments from the university, or I leave/defer until I was "better". There was no comprehension from the uni that this wouldn't have a definable recovery date; I've been dealing with long-term mental illness since I was a child and it is something I've learned to live with alongside the appropriate support. To wait until I was "better" would potentially mean waiting forever. On top of that, I went out of my way to prove to my department that I was keeping up with my work and had achieved top marks on the most recent assignment but little recognition was given to my current grades. From the weeks since I started at university I'd met multiple people who had little passion in their subject or who were just at university because they thought it was what they should do. No hate to these people (I think the pressure young people face to go to university is a whole 'nother issue in itself) but I couldn't help but compare myself to them. The university didn't care that they had a whole student population of disillusioned young people who were indifferent to their academic fields but drew the line at a motivated student who suffered from mental illness. It became clear this wasn't an environment for people like me who were simply viewed as a wrench in the works. In December 2019, I was given no other option but to drop out of my university.

Starting again and the lessons I have learned

What was the worst blow to my mental health? Being kicked out because of my mental health...Having to leave university was a massive blow to my self-esteem and I began to catastrophize what that meant for my future. Luckily I had my family for support and my mum pushed me to look into the Open University, an institution based on distance learning. I enrolled part-time for the start of February (unfortunately I had missed the cohort to start full-time) and decided to focus on my therapy. This actually worked out great for me as in 2020 I was diagnosed with PTSD and started EMDR so being a part-time student gave me enough space to process the emotions that came up in my treatment. The Open University has been so helpful in making sure my needs are met and I have been so grateful to finally find an inclusive learning environment. It is definitely not how I planned to be experiencing university and I still do feel some disappointment in not getting the full "student experience" but it has also taught me some valuable lessons and given me a new insight into how far our education system still needs to go. These are the things I have learned:

Education isn't about degrees or academic prestige. Education is about a person's desire to learn, whether that be through books or the sheer act of being. Everyone requires different conditions to which they need to learn and thrive, and unfortunately, many academic institutions tend to expect us all to be cut from the same cloth. Despite this, no one can take away your passion to learn, and as long as you're living, you are learning.

There can be no equality without equity. The truth is people enter schooling from all different backgrounds and circumstances and it is not enough for institutions to treat everyone the same. In terms of mental health, many people are quick to say they recognise that mental illness can be just as debilitating as physical illness however until they put the actions and policies into place to make environments more tolerant and accessible then their words mean nothing. This means taking the time to talk to individual students about what they require and realise that the most important thing that a university can do is create a place where EVERYONE can learn. Schooling creates the foundations on which the future of our society is built and the fact that inclusion is barely making it on the blueprint is scary to me.

COVID has shown that in this digital age, attendance ISN'T everything. If only I could go back to that final meeting with my head of department and tell him that in a few months time everyone's attendance would be at 0%! Seriously though, this is a wake-up call to how simple accessibility can be if you just invest in a good digital learning platform that allows for people who can't attend in person to still be included.

You can be an academic and still put your mental health first. Despite what my first university led me to believe, my time at the OU has shown me that you do not have to sacrifice one over another. In fact, it has shown me that my mental health recovery and student journey can work hand-in-hand, encouraging each other along.

But most importantly...

It has shown me that despite the pressure to make your university years fit into a nice, neat package of fun, good grades, and self-enlightenment, it most likely won't happen like that. That's okay, let it go and keep moving.

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symptoms-syndrome · 3 years ago

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Lately my patience for bullshit has been extra thin, I think. I'm usually good enough about it to not be a dick, but grrr sometimes I really fucking want to.

Just a little bitching and moaning below the cut.

For some reason my fuse is especially short when it comes to self-pitying and entitlement. Not necessarily that the two are related (though sometimes they fucking are!!!) but those two things for which my seemingly endless patience (or the collective seemingly endless patience, as I in particular DEFINITELY have an end to my patience) has a definite end.

Anyway there's someone in a discord server I moderate who's been self-defeatist almost constantly, and in a very attention-seeking way. Which I knowwwwww isn't necessarily "bad" or "wrong" (I DEFINITELY did that as a teen, though this person is mid/late 20s) but it sure is fucking annoying. And as the resident mental health knowledgable person in the whole damn server, I've been trying to GENTLY push some coping skills across the table. Or another part gently pushes coping skills across the table while I fume behind the curtain.

It just pisses me off! The idea that people chose to sit in their sadness and push away every chance they get to make anything better at all! And don't fucking lecture me about how everyone's at a different stage because I KNOW. It doesn't mean it doesn't still piss me off. It's still fucking annoying. I associate it with being a stupid teenager, not being an adult. Maybe it's because I'm jealous they're allowed and able to do that, while I didn't have time to do that as an adult because I had to get shit done. Maybe it's just that I'm unempathetic and missing the compassion key other parts have or whatever the difference is. Do they not realize how fucking draining it is to everyone around them? It's a fucking bummer, dude! And then they have the fucking gall to be like "nobody likes spending time with me :( I have no friends :(" maybe because you won't shut up about how no one cares and your life sucks all the fucking time! If I was out with someone having a good time and they told me nobody liked them I'd be pretty fucking insulted! And of course I care when people are sad or upset or hurt or whatever, but really only when it's something that makes sense. If it doesn't make sense to me it's just annoying in my eyes. You're not the only or even the first person to be sad! And this person in particular keeps being all fucked up about these huge existential questions about who they are or whatever, which I get, but you get there when you get there and you need to do the small boring shit first, like some CBT or whatever. But they don't want to do the small boring shit because they're laser focused on this one Giant Answer, which whatever not my problem I'm just giving some shit that could help but leave it if you don't wanna use it. But they have the audacity to be like "when will I care about myself" and my man, that's up to you bud! That's 100% on you. They act like recovery is something that will stumble upon them by chance instead of something fucking hard to achieve. I GET they feel all alone or whatever but they seem to be under the impression I just got lucky with recovery. Which is frankly insulting. I don't tell them that though. Someone who's much kinder than me was real nice about everything and talking shit through which means it's MY turn to bitch about it on the internet away from their eyes and ears.

Anyway I'm sure I could be all introspective about this and maybe later I will be, for now I'm just going to be a lil hypocrite and bitch and moan. Whenever other parts help these kinds of people I want to yell that we should just leave them to figure out their shit on their own. And occasionally they listen but most of the time I'm dismissed.

I think a lot of the others feel like a "bad person" cuz of me. Which whatever. I would say I feel bad but I'm not going to lie about it. I do what I need to do and say what I need to say and I'm the one responsible for getting us out of a lot of bullshit to begin with so I know they're grateful and all even though they feel guilty and fucked up about me. On a whole (probs bc of the autism) we have very low/no empathy, and I think a lot of others make up for it by being extra kind and compassionate, I just don't bother. I'll help because I'm not a total asshole, but if someone doesn't wanna accept the help that's their problem and I won't bother trying to pull them out of their own shit. God (and Seba) help those who help themselves. You gotta pull your own damn weight.

#seba

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crankywhenprovoked · 4 years ago

Text

Kinktober 2020. Day 7. Whips. Prinxiety.

All of these stories have been done well in advance, as such means I will NOT be accepting any ship requests, thank you for understanding.

Warnings: Role playing, minimal cbt.

“You have been captured and will be sentenced to forty lashes. How do you plead?”

Virgil scowled at the prince who was holding a blood red whip, smacking the multitude of ends against his other hand. Pulling at the binds that were around his wrists, holding his arms up to either side of him and above his head.

“Fuck off.”

“Now now, that’s no way to talk to royalty, especially the royalty that is about to deliver your punishment. Since I could go easy on you, well, as easy as one can go that is.” He smirked, coming closer and tilting Virgil’s chin up with the whip.

Scowling more, Virgil pulled his chin off the whip, before back as much as his restraints would allow.

“Let me say again. Fuck. Off.”

Roman tsked softly, reaching out and grabbing Virgil’s face this time, pulling him towards his face.

“That was the wrong move, thief.”

Virgil squirmed in his grasp, gasping as Roman’s fingers dug more into his chin, holding him until he stopped trying to escape. Pulling back, Roman pulled a knife from his pocket and grabbed Virgil’s shirt in his hand. Slowly he cut all of the clothing from Virgil’s body, leaving it in a pile on the ground, watching as the goosebumps covered Virgil’s skin.

“If you had been nice, maybe I would have left some of it on, but you had to run your mouth.”

Turning to try and watch Roman as he moved around behind him, Virgil hissed as the first of the hits came down across his shoulder blades.

“Count them for me.”

“Why should I?” Virgil spat, gasping as another smacked across his upper back.

“That’s one.” Roman smirked, as Virgil twisted to look at him.

“That was two.”

“If you’re keeping count that was two, if you leave it up to me, that was only one. Which will it be?”

Turning back to the front, Virgil hung his head a little, nodding as another smack rang out in the room.

“Three.” He counted out loud, flinching as he felt Roman’s hand on his waist, a kiss pressed to his shoulder, as soft as a butterfly.

“Good boy.”

More of the hits rang out through the room, Virgil’s wavering voice calling them out each time, his cock jolting as Roman’s whip landed across his thighs.

“Twenty!” Virgil gasped, as a particularly hard one landed on his left buttcheek.

“Half way there, now where should the rest go?” Roman mused, coming around the front of Virgil again.

“That’s not up to me.”

Virgil shivered as Roman lifted the whip, letting the tails of it tease over his cock, painting a few with his precome.

“Oh, is it not, thief? Then maybe I should put them right here.” He smirked, pulling the whip back and giving his cock a light swat.

“Fuck, Ro.” Virgil whined, shivering as Roman did it again.

“Are you daring to call the king by his real name?”

Virgil opened his mouth to either agree or argue, Roman smacking the whip lightly against his cock again turning the words into a moan. Stepping closer, Roman wrapped his arm around Virgil’s waist, pressing their lips together and kissing him solidly. Virgil whined against his lips, kissing him back as Roman dropped the whip, holding him tight.

“Ro, please?” Virgil breathed against his lips, pulling at his restraints again.

“Do you want to keep playing, or do you want me to take care of you?” Roman asked, sliding his hands down to Virgil’s hips.

“Can the king be so worked up he has to take the dirty thief?”

A smirk crossed Roman’s face as he nodded, giving Virgil one more kiss before pulling back and giving Virgil a small smack across the face.

“Such a dirty fucking thief. Such a tempting body.” Roman breathed, reaching up and undoing Virgil’s restraints.

“What are you doing?” Virgil gasped, as Roman grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards a table, shoving Virgil to bend over.

“Shut up and take it, and just maybe I won’t give you the rest of your punishment.”

Virgil’s fingers grabbed at the top of the table as he felt fingers at his opening, pressing in with a slick sound. Roman worked his pants open and down, pressing three fingers in and out of Virgil, slicking up his own cock.

“Fuck.” Virgil moaned as Roman pulled his fingers out before the head of his cock spread him open.

Resting his cheek on the cool surface of the table, Virgil choked out a moan as Roman rocked his hips, his cock pressing deeper with each movement. Roman’s hands holding his hips kept him pressed against the table as he moved faster, moans filling the room.

“So fucking tight, but taking my cock so well, this isn’t the first cock you’ve ever taken.” Roman mumbled.

Virgil’s fuzzy thoughts were confused as to what Roman was talking about for a few long moments before he remembered. Pressing back a little, trying to fight back but he couldn’t bring himself to push too hard, his cock throbbing with each thrust.

“All the fight gone from you, little thief? Afraid that if you fight me too hard I’ll stop, lock you back up and leave you with that pretty little erection you’re sporting.”

Whining low in his throat, Virgil nodded absently against the table, fingers grasping at nothing as Roman’s thrusts grew faster. With a deep rumbling moan, Roman fell over the edge, filling Virgil up as he ground against him. Pulling out slowly, Roman shushed Virgil softly as he whined, pulling Virgil up and leaning him against the table.

“Don’t worry, love.” Roman told him, pulling him into a kiss as he wrapped his hand around his cock.

Moaning into Roman’s mouth, Virgil held him in a tight grasp as Roman worked him, stroking him until he was coming across the ground. Shivering at the chill of the room, Virgil pulled himself closer to Roman’s warmth, humming as Roman kissed his forehead.

“And scene.” Roman said, making Virgil nod.

Slowly the room shifted into Roman’s bathroom, the water in the tub already running, bubbles filling the top of the water. Helping Virgil into the water, Roman willed his own clothes away before joining him, pulling him close again once he was settled.

“Was that what my love wished for?”

“That and more, thank you, my king.”

Roman smiled as he pulled Virgil into a soft kiss, letting the warm water sooth Virgil’s outsides as his kisses soothed the rest of him.

Tag list:

@migraine-marathon @hanramz-the-fander @darude-sanderstorm @thestoryofme13 @a-blog-just-for-sanders @cursed-by-thedragonwitch @ray-rambles @allthemetalsoftherainbow @musicphanpie-b @just-another-transblog @neko-ereri @shygirl4991 @prplzorua @lockolocka @spaceroman @deep-ocean-blues @musicsavedmefromdeath @randomslasher @thenerdycube @multi-fandom-trash-x9000 @thepusheenqueen @artistictaurean @thecrimsoncodex @trashypansexual @paxtonnsfw @princeofdespair @rptheturk @shadow-walker-1201 @milomeepit @ill-interested @ansfwcollection @moonlightinwater @datonerougecookeh @logically-sided @ruuworld @velocifoxy @microsoft-nerd @pearls-of-patton @jade-dragon226-fan @thomas-must-get-to-sleep @nyxwordsmith @thesilentbluesparrow @angered-turtle @siriuswhiskers @louisthewarlock @bekkyboo2003 @XxxxWitlee @too-precious-to-process @imaflashcard @bethebetterbard-and-backitup @backatthebein @nymphaedoratonks @jaybingu @bluebellie01 @starry-eyed-haiku-dreamer @allaboutme7 @reba-andthesides @crankywhenprovoked @thisisshien

@justanotherpurplebutterfly

@razalin

@nightlovechild

@mr-rectify

@cover-your-eyes-children

@greeneggsandham1998

@vulnerablevirgil

@secretlygeneralperson

@sanderssmutsides

@karmels-stuff

@officialpattonsander

@deitywithablog

@sanderssidesstuffs001

@pundefulpapa

@hell-or-high-waters

@fandomfreak18andover

@ashensanity

@that-one-smut-addict

@nsfs-side-blog

#kinktober2020 #not safe for sanders #prinxiety

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didntwanderstillgotlost · 4 years ago

Text

Winchesters and Angels (and God)

I’m gonna apologize in advance for the absolute trainwreck that is this fic. @malvenue and I spent 3 hours yesterday morning texting each other this mess and I decided I had to turn it into a fic and inflict it on the rest of you. So, here’s some Destiel and Sabriel crack. Enjoy!

Gabriel popped into the bunker and found Sam sitting at one of the tables in the library. He sat down in the chair across from him.

“Hey, Sammy. Did you know I have PTSD?” He couldn’t hide the shit eating grin on his face, but it didn’t matter because, without looking up from the book he was reading, Sam said,

“Don’t we all.” Gabriel’s face fell.

“Oh. Are you okay? Do you wanna talk about it? Do you need a hug?” He grinned again. “I could probably cure it with some CBT.” That got Sam to look up.

“Cognitive behavioral therapy?”

“Cock and ball torture.” Sam coughed.

“I’M NOT EVEN INTO THAT, GABE!”

“I’m just saying things until you say yes to something.”

“JUST GIVE ME A HUG YOU FREAK!”

“Oh. Okay, sure, we can do that.” Gabriel stood up and wrapped himself around Sam. “So, you want me to suck you off now or--.”

“GABE, I SWEAR TO GOD!”

“You called?” Jack asked, causing both of them to jump. Gabriel was grinning again.

“Yeah, I was just telling Sammy that--.”

“GABRIEL, HE IS THREE!” Across the room, Dean leaned closer to Cas and said,

“How come you know exactly what I want, but Gabe can’t figure Sammy out?”

“He didn’t get to fondle Sam’s soul like I did with yours,” Cas responded matter of factly. Dean choked.

“YOU WHAT!?”

“I just hugged your soul with my whole true form to protect it from Hell’s flames and demons. I did try to just grip your shoulder but I was afraid I’d drop you.”

“CAN EVERYONE PLEASE LEAVE!?” Sam shouted. Dean stood up and took Cas’s hand, leading him out of the room.

“Did you really scream that loudly when you saved me that you woke Anna up from her angel coma?”

“I was very happy. You were so pretty. You still are butIi never got to cuddle a human soul before and the first one was the most beautiful one.” Dean felt a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Yeah, okay, buddy.”

“I can still hear you!” Sam complained. “Go away! Gabe, stop touching me!”

“Sammy, you make it sound bad. I was just gently caressing your cheek.”

“MY ASSCHEEK!”

“Still a cheek!”

“How did this become my life?” Jack tilted his head, much like Cas.

“Is that something norm--.” Cas pulled away from Dean’s grip and stormed back into the library.

“No, son, cover your eyes.”

“GABE, I TOLD YOU, HE’S THREE!” Sam cried.

“Sammy, just give the guy a chance,” Dean said. “Also, he was two when he wanted to fuck that crazy chick on that one case.”

“Yeah, you still didn’t tell me about se--.”

“THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE!” Sam was sounding more and more distressed by the second. Gabriel grinned.

“I can teach you about sex! Come on, Jack!”

“Gabriel, I don’t think that’s appropriate,” Cas said.

“Babe, relax, it can’t be that bad.”

“Dean, I’ve seen Gabriel do some very disturbing things involving various plastic objects and--.”

“ENOUGH!” Sam snapped. “Jack, I’ll tell you, okay? Just please stop guys.” Gabriel smirked.

“Come on Sam! I thought you liked when I--.”

“STOP!” Dean grinned.

“Wow, Sammy, you really--.”

“NO!” Jack looked between all of them, utter confusion written all over his face.

“You totally do!” Dean crowed. San narrowed his eyes.

“Oh yeah? Well have you told Cas about that time in the backseat of the Impala?” Dean stopped laughing immediately.

“Do. Not.”

“I am a celestial being, Sam, and I used to watch over Dean almost all the time,” Cas said and Dean’s eyes widened. “Which time are you referring to?” Sam mirrored Dean’s expression.

“I WAS MORE THAN ONCE?”

“Well, it was--.”

“CAS, NO!” Dean interrupted. “Don’t. And what do you mean almost all the time?” Cas shrugged.

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“What could happen to me during sex, Cas?”

“Heart failure? Muscle cramps?” Dean had to admit, that was a point.

“Okay, but you didn’t have to watch.”

“I didn’t want you with Anna.”

“CAS!” Cas looked at him and Dean’s heart almost broke at the pain in his eyes.

“That was very painful for me.” Dean swallowed.

“Fuck, Cas, I--. You know I love you, right? I didn't realize back then. I'm so sorry. I'm a complete asshole. I promise I love you.” Cas smiled softly.

“It’s okay, Dean, I know.”

“I am GOING TO BE SICK!” Sam said. Gabriel pretended to wipe his eyes with a tissue from a box he pulled out of nowhere.

“My little brother has grown up so much.” Jack spoke up, clearly still confused.

“Dean and Cas weren’t always together?” Everyone turned to look at him. Dean frowned slightly.

“Why would you think we were?”

“BECAUSE WE ALL HAVE EYES!” Sam yelled. “Oh, here we go again. YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE SO SNEAKY DIDN’T YOU DEAN? With all the longing looks and careful touches and mixtapes and--.”

“Shut up, Sammy,” Dean muttered.

“AND THE PRAYERS, OH MY GOD!”

“Yes, Sam?” Jack said. “I’m right here. Anyway I could always see Cas’s wings around Dean when they were in the same room.”

“WHAT?” Dean turned to Cas, who only shrugged.

“It’s not my fault you can’t see my true form. I had to make sure you were comfortable and safe.”

“Even now?” Jack asked. Sam turned to Gabriel.

“Keep your wings away from me, Gabe.”

“Actually, he--,” Jack started.

“OF COURSE, SAMMY!” Gabriel interrupted loudly.

“Someone please just kill me,” Sam said. “Just end this.”

“Sammy, come on a little wing petting never killed anyone,” Dean said.

“I WISH IT DID!”

“If you died, you’d go to Heaven,” Jack stated.

“No one really dies in this family anyway,” Dean pointed out.

“Fuck you,” Sam grumbled.

“Me?” Gabriel asked.

“You know what?” Sam snapped. “If it shuts you up, YES!” Gabriel grinned.

“FUCK YEAH, I WIN!”

“Sound proof your damn room, Sammy,” Dean said.

“Gabriel can do that for him like I did for--.”

“CAS!” Cas frowned.

“What? You said “Don’t break the walls with your angel voice and don’t let Sam hear me wh--.”

“CAS, DAMMIT!” Sam smirked

“You whimper? Awe, Dean, that’s kinda sweet.”

“That’s NOT what he was going to say. Right, Cas?” Dean shot Cas a desperate look.

“No. Of course not. He, uh, whines?” Dean hung his head.

“On second thought, kill me, too.”

“Sorry, Dean, no one really dies in this family,” Sam said with a grin. “Come on, Gabe.” Gabriel’s eyes glowed a little as he followed Sam down the hall. Jack looked at Dean and Cas.

“So…it’s all okay here?”

“Of course, Jack, why do you ask?” Cas asked.

“You all call me at least 56 times every day,” Jack said. Cas chuckled.

“Abuse of human language.”

“Cas, I cannot BELIEVE--,” Dean started.

“Sounds like conflict,” Jack said. “Bye, Dad!” He waved at Cas and disappeared.

“Dean, why are you upset?

“YOU DON’T TELL PEOPLE, ESPECIALLY NOT SAM, WHAT I DO DURING SEX! Unless it’s something absolutely awesome.”

“But you sound beautiful to me so that must mean that it’s awesome too.��

“Buddy…” Dean could feel himself blushing again. “Just don’t talk about that with anyone else, okay?” Cas paused a little too long.

“Okay.”

“WHO ELSE DID YOU TELL?”

“No one, I just…” Cas faltered.

“WHAT?” Dean watched a few tears slip down Cas’s cheeks.

“You’re just so loving that you sometimes can’t speak so you whimper and it’s just…it’s so beautiful, Dean.” Before Dean could even begin to process how to respond to that, Sam shouted from across the bunker,

“GABE, DON’T DO THAT!” Dean paled.

“Cas, please soundproof their room.”

“GABE, HOLY FUCK!” That was followed by some incomprehensible yelling.

“CAS, NOW!” Cas frowned slightly.

“They’re not in a room.”

“WHAT?”

“They’re…in the hallway.”

“SAMMY, I WILL KICK YOUR ASS IF YOU DON’T GO THE FUCK TO YOUR DAMN ROOM!” Dean yelled. Across the bunker, Sam looked at Gabriel.

“Does he think we're having sex?”

“I mean, I could make you sound like that if you let me,” Gabriel said with a wink.

“GABE NO!”

“SAMMY, I SWEAR TO GOD!” Dean shouted and Sam dragged Gabriel back to the library. Jack popped up in the middle of the room.

“I just left, what now?

“Abuse of language, it’s okay,” Cas said. “We’ll say Jack if we need you, okay?”

“Oh, okay.” Jack disappeared again.

“Your kid takes things too literally doesn’t he?” Gabriel said.

“He did say Cas is his dad first thing,” Sam agreed. Dean studied his brother.

“Sammy, the FUCK were you yelling about? Are you hurt or something?”

“I can’t seem to find any injury,” Cas said. “I just get the sense that--.” Sam cleared his throat loudly.

“No, Cas, please continue,” Dean said.

“No, actually, I should go to my--,” Sam tried to deflect.

“Sam seems to be extremely aroused,” Cas said.

“I’m an angel, Sammy, I told you I can tell,” Gabriel said. Dean smirked.

“Awe, Sammy, that’s kinda sweet.”

“GABE, CAN YOU WAIT TILL WE GET TO MY ROOM THEN?”

“I didn’t do anything, Sam,” Gabriel said with a wink

“Gabriel did you just use your grace to--.”

“Shut UP, DEAN!” Sam yelled as Dean started laughing.

“Gabriel, it’s actually very nice of Sam to let you do that because Dean doe--.” Dean stopped laughing abruptly.

“CAS!”

“What?”

“What did we just talk about?”

“This wasn’t related to your s-.”

“NO TALK ABOUT ANYTHING WE DO ALONE, OKAY!”

“Come on, Dean, a little grace never killed anyone,” Sam teased.

“Sam, I will kick your ass.”

“Don’t bruise it,” Gabriel said. “He has a nice ass.”

“Gabe, I swear to--,” Sam started

“Stop calling Jack,” Cas said.

“You know, Gabe, I think Sammy here would love you to bruise him a little.”

“DEAN!” Dean grinned.

“And I’m sure he would absolutely melt if you bite him a bit too.”

“DEAN, I WILL MURDER YOU!”

“I don’t hear you denying it,” Gabriel pointed out.

“No you won’t, Sam,” Cas said.

“Dean, continue, I’m memorizing,” Gabriel said.

“If I remember correctly, he also really loves when people lick his-.”

“DEAN WEARS PANTIES!” Sam yelled. Dean rolled his eyes. That wasn’t much of a secret anymore. So, of course, Cas had to open his mouth.

“Well, actually--.”

“CAS!”

“What now?”

“No talk about my underwe--.”

“No, no, Cas, please continue,” Sam interrupted.

“Since you didn’t let Dean finish I’ll just lick all of Sam till I figure out what he wanted to say,” Gabriel said.

“NO ONE IS LICKING ME!”

“Sam is aroused again,” Cas commented.

“CAS!” Sam whined.

“Why is everyone yelling at me?”

“Not me little bro. Not me,” Gabriel said.

“Yeah, but you never yell,” Dean pointed out.

“Yes, I do,” Cas said.

“NOT YOU, CAS!”

“I bet Sammy could make me scream,” Gabriel said with a wink.

“Just make sure to protect the room,” Cas said. “You will break everything if you--.”

“If you break ANYTHING with you weird angel shit I SWEAR TO--.”

“Don’t call Jack. Please,” Cas begged. “He doesn’t like conflicts.”

“I wonder where he gets it from,” Dean teased. Cas tilted his head.

“Me, of course.” Dean just shook his head with a fond smile. They stared at each other and Dean could feel himself getting lost in the endless sea of blue.

“Here we go again,” Sam muttered, rolling his eyes.

“I thought they’d stop doing that once they--.”

“Well, no such luck apparently.” Gabriel shrugged.

“Guess eye fucking is easier.”

“GABE!”

“I am not having any kind of intercourse with my eyes,” Cas said, breaking eye contact. “I just stare deep into Dean’s soul and--.”

“Cas, please, not now,” Dean said, blushing furiously. Cas squinted at him.

“You know what, Dean? Why don’t you just tell me when I’m allowed to speak.”

“Wow, Dean, I knew you were an asshole but really?” Sam said. Dean ignored his brother.

“Wait, no, Cas I’m sorry.” Cas just stared at him, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Damn, bro, you really fucked up,” Sam said.

“Sam, shut up! Cas, look, let’s just go to our room and--.”

“‘Our room’. Wow, congrats guys!”

“Sam, SHUT UP!”

“Sammy, does that mean your room is our room now?” Gabriel asked.

“No, Gabe! We are not a couple!” Gabriel mirrored Cas’s expression.

“Damn, bro, you really fucked up,” Dean smirked. Sam rolled his eyes.

“That won’t work on me, Gabe. We are not a couple.” Gabriel shed a single tear. “Not gonna work. You’re not my type.” Gabriel turned to his brother.

“Cassie, come on! How do you do it?”

“Well, you’re at the beginning, so you could try showing the shadow of your wings and breaking some glass. Maybe let him stab you.”

“THAT WAS NOT FLIRTING!” Dean insisted

“Of course it was,” Cas said.

“I was trying to kill you!

“Well, I was trying to prove I was strong because I know you want to be protec--.”

“CAS!”

“Right. I forgot I’m not allowed to talk unless you tell me to.”

“Awe, Dean, are you a little spoon?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Cas answered.

“CAS!”

“So, you don’t want to be anymore?” Cas asked. Dean closed his eyes for a moment.

“Cas, please stop.”

“Sammy, you can be whatever spoon you want,” Gabriel said.

“Still not into you.”

“I bet Sammy’s a big spoon because he’s a control freak,” Dean said.

“Also, even Cas said you’re aroused when I talk to you so you’re lying, Sammy,” Gabriel pointed out. He turned to Dean. “Also, Dean, that’s sizest. I can be a big spoon!”

“Gabriel’s true form is quite large indeed,” Cas said.

“It’s not sizest! Cas is shorter than me!”

“SO YOU ADMIT IT!” Sam yelled.

“YEAH, I ADMIT THAT YOU’RE A LITTLE BITCH!” Dean shot back.

“Sam is not a female dog,” Cas said. Dean sighed.

“Cas, don’t do that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to shut up.”

“The only one who should shut up is SAM!”

“Now listen here you jerk--.”

“Oh, Sammy, you’re so cute when you’re angry,” Gabriel said.

“Gabriel, I swear I will fucking gag you.”

“Oh, PLEASE DO!” Sam groaned

“Sam, I don’t think you’re gonna win here,” Dean said.

“Sam is aroused again,” Cas stated. Dean grinned.

“Cas, did I tell you how much I love to hear you speak?” He turned to Gabe. “I told you Sam is a control freak.”

“I have no problem with that.”

“You can all go straight to hell,” Sam muttered.

“We’ve all been there, Sam,” everyone else said at once.

“Hey, Sammy, what were you planning on gagging me with?” Gabriel asked.

“Keep talking and you’ll find out,” Sam threatened.

“If I can choose, please gag me with your--.”

“Gross, Gabe!” Dean complained.

“But, Dean--,” Cas started.

“CAS, NO!”

“One moment I’m not allowed to talk, then you love it when I speak. Make up your mind please.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You know what? I'm done with this. I'm going to bed.” He turned to leave. Cas, you’re coming with.”

“It’s 4:30 in the afternoon,” Sam said.

“Never said we were gonna sleep, Sammy,” Dean said with a grin and a wink. Cas’s eyes started glowing a little. Dean grabbed his arm. “Come on, buddy.” They left the room and Gabriel looked at Sam.

“So, big guy, how much do I have to talk to get to choke on your--.” Sam grabbed Gabriel’s arm.

“COME ON THEN!” Gabriel grinned.

“Yay, I win!”

#Destiel #Sabriel #crack fic #Jack is God

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converse-luke · 5 years ago

Text

F is for... (A to Z part 6)

A/N: I think this is the longest part of this series that I’ve written so far. So enjoy ;)

Warnings: sub luke, boot licking (they’re clean tho dw), strict dom, flogging, some cbt, exhibitionism, some tears, sex club, collars and leashes, bondage

Flogging

“And what if I hit him too hard? I don’t want to traumatize him!”

“Sophie.”

“I know he likes pain but there’s usually pleasure involved!”

“Sophie! Shut up!” Sierra stands up and grabs her shoulders, shaking them. “You’re worrying too much. We both know damn well you’re a good dom. Luke has a safeword and so do you. You’re not going to traumatize him.” Sierra sits back down and rests her head on the back of the couch. “You can always give him a nice reward after for taking the flogging so well.” Sophie finally sits back down.

“I’m just really nervous.”

“If you want you could take him to The Ring and I’d watch to make sure everything goes well.” Sophie shakes her head.

“I can’t show my face there again. Not after what Jane did.” Sierra drags Sophie towards her, holding her tightly.

“Jane was a biphobic bitch.” Her lips press against Sophie’s shoulder. “She wanted a relationship and you didn’t, which you told her.” She squeezes Sophie lightly. “Plus, you ended it with her when you figured out you had feelings for Luke.”

“And she destroyed my social life for it.” Her eyes are wet and she rubs them as hard as she can. “What if she’s still there?”

“I have a shoot there in a week. I’ll ask around.” Sierra kisses Sophie’s cheek.

The two women get comfortable on the couch and cuddle against each other. Sophie fits herself into the curves of Sierra’s body. She wants to feel small. The front door opens, Luke dropping his gym bag to the floor as he steps in. “Hey Sierra,” his skin is shining with sweat, curls flat against his forehead.

“Do you want me to go Soph? Your boyfriend is hot and sweaty.” She disguises the concern with a joke. Sophie nods, hugging Sierra tightly. “Talk to him,” She whispers before getting up. As she walks out the door she squeezes Luke’s arm. The look the two of them share lets Luke know all he needs to.

After the door closes Luke walks over to the back of the couch. “Hey Soph,” he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Come take a shower with me?” Sophie nods mutely. When she rounds the couch Luke takes her hand. He strips in the bathroom, throwing his clothes in the hamper. Sophie doesn’t do her usual routine of trying to start shower sex that Luke’s too clumsy for. The lack of a teasing smile worries him. Luke lets the water heat up, taking Sophie’s shirt off for her. He steps into the water, pulling Sophie in. The warm water eases the tension between her shoulders. She presses her body against Luke’s, resting her head against his chest. Luke runs his fingers through her hair. “Soph, you okay?” Their eyes meet, Sophie’s glistening until she looks away.

Luke leans against the tile wall, his arms wrapped around her. Sophie is flush against him, content to just rest against Luke. He wants to move but knows Sophie wants to stay where she is. “I’ve gotta wash up Sophie, can you rest against the wall?” She moves with a heavy sigh and lets Luke rid himself of the gym grime. Luke steps forward, tipping Sophie’s chin up with a gentle nudge of his fingers before kissing her. “I don’t know what’s wrong, and you don’t have to tell me, but just know that I’m here no matter what.” Sophie tips her head into his hand and closes her eyes. He strokes her skin with his thumb. “Do you want to get out?”

“Sure,” at least she’s said something. Luke tips his head back for a second and then blindly reaches behind him to shut the water off. He pulls her out of the shower and wraps her in a towel. Sophie smiles weakly when Luke ruffles her hair with another towel so its going everywhere. He wraps a towel around his waist after drying his own hair.

After Sophie’s dry he takes the towel from her, putting her fluffy robe around her and tying it shut. Despite his aching muscles Luke picks Sophie up. Her head rests against his shoulder while he walks them to the bedroom. “Pajamas and then snuggles yeah?” Sophie nods as she’s set back down. She’s quiet while she changes. As soon as Luke drops the towel a hand smacks against his ass. He yelps and turns around to fake a glare at Sophie. She smiles back at him, her smile so strong one breaks out on his face. “Menace,” Sophie laughs at him while she sits on the bed. Only in boxers and a shirt he walks back over to the bed. He gets in and pulls her to his chest.

“I love you,” she whispers as she kisses his jaw. “Do you have to go to the station later?”

“I’m all yours,” he presses a kiss to her forehead. Luke lets her rest against him, trying not to pry. She’ll open up when she wants.

It takes a few moments of silence but Sophie finally speaks up. “I’m nervous about flogging you.” Luke startles a little but remains quiet. “I don’t want to hurt you. And Sierra suggested going to this bdsm club so she could watch without feeling invasive. But um, that’s where Jane and I-

“Oh,” Luke breathes out. He just barely remembers Jane. “She’s who you were with before me.”

“I wasn’t dating her,” Sophie snaps. “We had sex but I was not interested in her romantically. At all.” Luke squeezes her tightly.

“You don’t have to talk about it.” Sophie sits up and straddles his waist.

“Sierra’s going to check if she still goes there for me.”

“I think we should go no matter what.” Sophie looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “I mean like as a ‘fuck you’ to her. You could wear your super tall boots and the most domme clothes you own. You could make me wear a leash and pull me around. And make me scream so loud no one has a doubt it’s you doing whatever you want to me.” Sophie feels his dick twitch under her. “You could do whatever you wanted to, I wouldn’t mind.” Luke squeezes her thighs.

“You’re hard just from thinking about this.” He nods, cheeks pink as his hips buck.

“I didn’t know how much I wanted it until I got the idea.” Luke groans as Sophie grinds down on him. “We don’t even have to do it at that club, we could go somewhere else. Fuck Sophie,” she smirks at him. There’s a dark look in her eyes.

“I think for such a great idea you need a reward. Get undressed.” She climbs out of bed and opens a drawer, pulling out a hitachi wand. She turns it on, the loud buzz filling the air.

“Yes Miss.”

Sophie is beaming at him when she walks through the door a week later. She climbs over the couch and presses a hard kiss to his lips. “I just got off the phone with Sierra. Jane got banned for being biphobic towards other women. And that everyone there is very excited to see me again.” Luke beams back at her. “So I do have to let you know that people can walk into where we’re playing at any time. It’s against the rules to take pictures of club members in a scene.” Luke nods, eager to hear more. “I’m going to start gathering up stuff to bring but we’re not going until I know your work schedule. I’m not going to flog you and then let you go to work the next day.”

“I get my hours tomorrow.”

“Perfect.” Sophie starts walking towards the bathroom to shower but stops and turns around. “You didn’t say anything about people watching.” Luke’s cheeks turn red, his fingers fumble over the joysticks of his PlayStation controller. “You kinky fucker.”

Luke is sitting on a rolling chair stark naked while he watches Sophie get dressed. She is adjusting herself in the bodysuit, staring at her reflection. Luke’s eyes are on her ass and she knows they are, shaking it while he stares. “You’re not playing fair.”

“What did I say about being quiet.” It’s not a question, Luke says nothing. She grabs her leather pants and wiggles into them, buckling her belt as well. Sophie sits down and puts on white tennis shoes, not wanting to get her boots dirty.

She grabs his shirt, sliding it up his arms. Only two buttons of his black and white shirt are done, leaving most of his chest exposed. Luke puts on his pants and shoes, only standing up again when he hears Sophie grab his collar. She fastens it around his neck, staring at the o-ring. “I’ll leash you up when we get inside okay?”

“Yes Miss.” Sophie sits him back down in the chair.

“Gonna let me put pretty makeup on you?” Luke nods, closing his eyes. The brush is soft against his eyelids as Sophie pats golden eyeshadow on them. One hand holds his chin to keep his face steady. He hears her shuffling through makeup until she finds the eyeliner she wants. She only lines his lower lids and smudges it. His eyes open again for the mascara, blinking up at Sophie. The highlight brush tickles his cheeks and he scrunches his nose when she brushes over it. “There we go all done. Wait setting spray,” Luke closes his eyes again. “Okay now perfect. Grab my bag and get in the car.” He scrambles up to go get it while Sophie pulls a leather jacket over her shoulders.

Luke fidgets in his seat while Sophie drives to The Ring. Her dark cherry red lips have twitched into a smile while her eyes dart between the road and Luke. She reaches over and squeezes his hand. He smiles and squeezes back. “Be a good boy for me okay?”

“I will,” there’s no landmark for the club that Luke notices but Sophie turns into a parking lot. She parks the car and steps out. Luke follows. She guides him inside and she’s immediately wrapped into a hug.

“Sophie!” She’s lifted off the ground by a man that Luke has to look up to. Sophie giggles as she’s set back on the ground. “It’s been too long.” She nods, still smiling widely. “Gonna introduce me to your boyfriend?”

“Yes of course, Luke this is Henry. He owns The Ring.” Luke reaches his hand out to shake his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you.” A flash of recognition crosses Henry’s face as they shake hands.

“Your voice sounds familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” Luke shoots Sophie a worried look as his hand falls to his side. “I know, you’re that radio host who does those movie reviews! My husband loves your show!” Luke’s cheeks turn scarlet and he looks down. Sophie grabs his hand and squeezes it.

“Henry, don’t embarrass him, it’s his first time doing this. Luke,” her hand moves to turn his face towards her, “you have nothing to worry about. Privacy is really important here. We’re not allowed to talk about other club members outside of these walls.” Sophie shoots Henry a glare and unzips her bag, pulling out a black leash. Luke bares his neck for her as she clips the leash around his collar. “I’m taking one of the rooms on the first floor.” She calls as she pulls Luke towards the big black doors. As they open Luke’s eyes widen. The club name fits perfectly, the two floors open up in a perfect circle for viewing the main area. “This is usually for clinics,” Sophie explains as she tugs him towards a room under the balcony the second floor provides.

She opens the door, pulling Luke inside. “Get undressed,” she drops the leash and puts her bag on the table at the back of the room. Luke unbuttons the rest of his shirt and lets it fall to the floor. “Don’t make a mess.” Sophie doesn’t turn around. He removes his shoes and slides his pants and boxers off in one go. Luke folds his clothes up and holds them in his arms, shoes balanced on top.

“Miss, where should I put my clothes?” Sophie turns around and takes his clothes from him. Luke kneels back on the ground and puts hands behind his back. The door opens and a hand runs through Luke’s curls. He looks up and Sierra smiles down at him. Luke’s cheeks turn a faint shade of pink. She continues to pet his hair while she watches Sophie get her heels out.

“Your boy is being very good for you.” Sophie jumps a little and turns around. She looks down at Luke and smiles at him lightly. The door opens again and Luke’s cheeks go redder, hiding his face against Sierra’s thigh. Sierra looks at Sophie before she moves away from Luke.

Sophie carries over her boots, setting them down before squatting to Luke’s height. “No need to be shy Lu. Just keep being my good boy.” She presses a kiss to his forehead and stands back up. Luke can already feel the need to be touched by her growing in his tummy. He stares at Sophie as she puts her boots on. “Keep your eyes on me.” Luke nods, fighting the urge to look behind him when the door opens again. Sophie puts her hand on his head as she faces the people watching them. “House rules; no pictures, no touching, no talking. Luke what’s your safeword?”

“Red,” he quietly tells her. Sophie picks his leash up and tugs him forward. The pressure against his neck feels amazing. She grabs a toy from the counter and faces Luke. “Stay still,” she walks behind Luke and unscrews the humbler. Luke groans as his balls are clamped between them and the humbler is screwed closed. Sophie got it specially made because the last one they got he was too tall for and could maneuver out of.

He’s stuck on all fours until Sophie decides to release him. Luke loves it. Sophie puts the end of his leash on a small hook and picks up her flogger. “Beg for me to hit you.” Luke moans and looks up at Sophie.

“Please Miss, I want it so much. Please hit me. I want my ass to hurt so bad I can’t sit for days. Miss I-” Luke yelps as Sophie’s hand smacks against his ass. Sophie walks over to his head and pulls Luke’s head up by his curls.

“If you knew the first thing about flogging you’d know that this,” she dangles the flogger in front of his face, “isn’t going to hit your ass tonight.” Luke’s cheeks burn red while Sophie lets go of his hair. “Such a shame, I thought you’d earned this.” The sound of the flogger clattering against the table makes Luke’s head pop up.

“Miss please I can be good. Please hit me Miss. I want you to hit me Miss.”

“Stop begging, you sound pathetic.” Luke’s blush trails down his neck and covers his ears. “If you really wanted me to flog you you’d prove you were good enough to be flogged.” She walks back over, crouching down and grabbing his chin so he meets her gaze. “And so far darling, I’m not impressed.”

“I can be good enough Miss.” Sophie’s lips twitch into a smirk and she stands up. Luke whines while she walks away. “I can be good.”

“Then prove it.” Luke wants to whine out and ask how he should do that but decides its not good boy behavior. Sophie taps her foot impatiently and Luke understands what she wants. He moves forward and winces, the humbler tugging on his balls.

It’s a slow crawl over to Sophie, the humbler preventing him from going too fast. When he finally reaches Sophie her foot stops tapping. Luke looks up at Sophie for a second before bending lower to the ground and licking at her boot. He drags his tongue over the side of her boot, parallel to the zipper. “Do I have to remind you again that I have two boots?” Luke’s cheeks flame in embarrassment. He lets out a small apology and kisses the toe of her other boot. Sophie shoves the toe into his mouth and Luke drags his tongue over the bottom of the boot. “Going to actually listen to me now?” Luke nods and hums around the boot. Sophie removes her foot from his mouth and pulls Luke’s head back so he’s staring up at her. “Do you know why I can’t hit your ass with a flogger?”

“No Miss.”

“If I miss your ass with the flogger I could hit those trapped balls and that would be very bad.” Luke’s eyes widen in shock. “So, why can’t I hit your ass with the flogger?”

“Because if you miss you’ll hit my balls Miss.” Sophie lets go of his hair and picks up a spreader bar.

“Get ass up face down,” she waits for Luke to get into position before cuffing his ankles. Sophie grabs his wrists and pulls them under his body, locking them into the spreader. Admiring the sight before her, Sophie lightly squeezes his balls. Luke jerks and moans.

The tails of the flogger drag over his back as Sophie walks around him, her heels clicking against the floor. His head turns to the side and Luke remembers that they have an audience. Luke’s cheeks burn red and his cock twitches against his stomach. The thud of the flogger hitting his back causes a startled moan to escape his mouth. Sophie hits the same spot again, relishing in the redness that blooms on Luke’s back. She switches to the other side, striking right next to the first spot. Luke responds each time with a moan or a whine. As she goes back to the other side her eyes meet Sierra’s. She nods at Sophie and continues to watch Luke. Feeling more at ease, Sophie strikes harder.

The reaction she gets is wonderful. Luke’s back arches up while he curses in pleasure-pain. She hits the same spot until his skin is quickly reddening. “Miss, more please,” Luke begs. Sophie quickly brings the flogger down and he screams.

“Did I say you could speak?”

“No Miss,” Sophie hits him with the flogger again. He lets out a strangled groan.

“That’s right, I didn’t. So what makes you think you can speak out of turn?” Luke doesn’t answer and Sophie lets out a disappointed sigh. She takes his trapped balls in her hand and pulls. “Answer me.” Luke yelps and whimpers, Sophie doesn’t let go until he answers.

“I wanted you to hit me more Miss.” Sophie scoffs as she walks around him.

“You wanted me to. Luke, Luke, Luke, when will you learn that this is not about what you want.” She swings her wrist and the tails of the flogger smack against his shoulder blade. “It’s about what I want.” Sophie continues to walk around him, dragging the tails of the flogger on his red skin. “And do you know what I want Luke?” He shakes his head the best he can. “No you don’t know what I want so I’ll tell you.” Sophie bends down and pulls Luke’s curls so his head is forced up. Her eyes are filled with so much dominance it makes him shiver. “I want you to shut up and take this like a good whore. And then maybe I’ll give you some pleasure.” Luke dips his head down and Sophie lays it back on the ground. For a short second her hand runs through his curls, grounding him. As Sophie walks back around him to face their audience he relaxes into the cuffs, holding onto the comforting touch. “How many times should I flog this slut?”

Their small crowd rattles off numbers but Sierra’s reply catches Sophie’s attention. “Think you can take twenty more lashes slut?” Luke gulps before falling into his role.

“It doesn’t matter what I think Miss. You decide what happens to my body.” Sophie grins wickedly at him.

“I think you’re finally learning.” She slaps his back with the flogger and Luke yelps. “Oh how disappointing. That wasn’t taking it quietly now was it?”

“No Miss it wasn’t.”

“So now we have to start over.” Luke shuffles around and makes a small noise in his throat when Sophie hits him again. As she hits him Luke’s head goes fuzzy. Everything seems to fade away except the rhythmic slap of the flogger against his skin. When Luke makes a noise Sophie is about to chastise him but she realizes he’s not fully in his head. Her nails lightly drag over his red back to hear him whimper and whine. “Are you being a good boy Luke?” He babbles a response as Sophie turns his head so she can look at him. She hadn't realized he'd been softly crying until she sees the black mascara stains trailing down his cheeks. Sophie gets onto her knees and brushes her fingers through his curls. “Of course you are, being such a good boy for me.” A whimper tumbles from his lips as Sophie continues to pet his curls. “Only two more and then you can get a nice reward for being so good for me.”

Luke’s eyes flutter closed as Sophie stands again. She makes the two hits quick and then sets the flogger down. Sophie makes quick work of unlocking his hands and ankles before removing the humbler. Luke shudders, every nerve ending in his body alight. He doesn’t move as Sophie kneels back by his side. Her hand lightly massages his balls and Luke lets out a high pitched whimper. “You sore bub?” Sophie’s voice is softer but there’s still a hint of dominance. “Let’s get you up so I can give you a reward for being my good little slut.” Luke hears his leash get unclipped but it feels far away. Sophie guides him up onto his knees and holds his chin between her fingers. Glazed over blue eyes look at her but Sophie knows Luke’s having trouble focusing. “What do you want me to do to you Luke?”

The question seems to confuse him as he stares up at Sophie. “It doesn’t matter what I want Miss. You can use me as much as you want to.” Part of Sophie beams with pride, the other part worries about just how far Luke has sunk into submission.

“Need you to stand up Luke.” Unlike last time she’s ready for Luke to tip forward when he stands. Sophie catches him with ease and his arms wrap around her shoulders while his head digs into the crook of her neck. He mumbles apologies into her skin and small tears trek down his cheeks. “Shh, shh it’s okay baby boy, nothing to apologize for. Being so good for me.” Sophie wants to kick everyone out of the room so she can solely focus on Luke. He’s so vulnerable as he leans against her and Sophie has no doubt it's from the intensity of it all. She blindly grabs for her hitachi wand, thanking past her for putting fresh batteries in. Luke stiffens as the wand turns on before relaxing against Sophie’s body. A moan rips from his throat, his body shivering in pleasure. “There’s my good boy,” Luke keens at the praise.

“Miss I’m so close. May I cum? Please may I cum?”

“Go ahead baby,” Luke’s hips stutter a few times before he’s cumming. He chants his thanks as Sophie strokes his hip. She’s so focused on Luke that she doesn’t notice their small crowd leaving except for Sierra and Henry. Sophie turns the wand off and places it back on the table.

“You got him Soph?” Sierra’s voice makes her head pop up. She stumbles a little as Luke rests more of his weight against her.

“Yeah, I got him.” Sophie slowly walks Luke towards the bed on the other side of the room. Once he’s situated on his stomach Henry hands her a wet washcloth. “Thanks,” Sophie lightly presses it to the red welts before laying it over his back to cool the heated skin. “Will you bring me my bag?” Luke’s hand curls into the fabric of her pants. Henry brings it over and Sophie digs through it. One of her hands stays on Luke while she looks for her aftercare stuff. She pulls out some hard candy and unwraps it. “Suck on this.” Luke takes it into his mouth and suckles on the candy. “Good boy,” she runs her hand through Luke’s hair. There are still small tears trickling down his cheeks. “You did so well for me today. I’m so proud of you Lu,” Sophie kisses the top of his head.

“Thank you Miss.” Sophie checks Luke’s back, his skin isn’t as hot as before. She grabs her soothing lotion and rubs it into his skin. Luke whines slightly at the sting.

Sierra and Henry excuse themselves after ensuring Sophie has a handle on Luke. When the door closes Sophie relaxes. “Luke, you don’t have to call me Miss anymore.” He sits up slowly and grabs another candy. “Drink this,” Sophie hands him a bottle of water. As Luke drinks he starts to shiver. Sophie pulls a blanket out of her bag and wraps it around Luke’s shoulders.

“I’m tired.”

“Drink your water and then we can go home.” Sophie grabs a pair of pajamas out of Luke’s bag and sets them down. She gets off the bed and slides the fuzziest socks they own on his feet. “Arms up,” Luke sets the water down and lifts his arms in the air. As Sophie pulls the sweater over his head she presses a kiss to Luke’s lips. He grins at her widely. She gets a makeup wipe and gently wipes away the streaks of mascara on his cheeks. “Alright let me take your collar off.” Luke bats her hands away and pouts at her.

“It stays.”

“Luke I gotta take it off.”

“No,” he whines. “Please Sophie, I need it on.” Luke’s eyes water and tears spill down his cheeks. Sophie wipes them away.

“Okay, okay bub I’ll keep it on. But we’re changing it for a different one when we get home.” He nods at her and continues to drink his water.

There’s a knock on the door a few minutes later and Luke jumps. “Come in,” Sophie pulls the blanket over Luke’s bare torso. Sierra walks in and smiles at them.

“I’m driving you two home.” When Sophie goes to protest Sierra holds up a finger. “You really want to not be able to hold him for a whole thirty minutes after this scene?” Sophie shuts her mouth. “Also I Ubered here so you don’t have much of a choice.” She saunters over to Sophie’s bag and fishes her keys out. “Take your time, I’ll just be listening to podcasts.” Luke lets out a small laugh when she leaves. He rests his head on Sophie’s shoulder.

“You ready to go?” Luke holds his empty water bottle up at her. “Alright then up we go, Sophie pulls him off the bed. “Now step in,” she shimmies Luke’s bottoms up his legs. “Give me a second to take off my boots and then we can go.” He leans against the wall with his shoulder despite the small sting. “Okay now we can go.” They double check the room and leave The Ring hand in hand.

Luke falls into bed almost as soon as they get home. Sophie shakes her head at him and unbuckles his collar. She makes quick work of grabbing the softest collar they own. Luke hums in satisfaction when Sophie snaps the baby blue collar into place. He’s still cold and shuffles under the blankets. Sophie changes into her own pajamas and climbs into bed. Luke clings to Sophie once she gets in. She makes sure to not touch the welts on his back while he rests on her chest. His cheeks are a light pink and his eyes still shimmer with gold eyeshadow. Sophie feels him fall asleep and presses another kiss to his forehead before closing her eyes as well.

Taglist (message me to be added or if you’re username has changed): @buggy-blogs @dukehoods @singt0mecalum @sleepwithdeath @calumsmermaid @babylon-corgis @turtoix @httpspook @madbomb @irwinkitten @5sos-microwave @findingliam-o @flannelpunkcalum @boyfriend-cal @sexgodashton @prettybabycal

#a to z #lh smut #converse-luke works #my work #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings x oc #luke hemmings #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos smut #sub!lu #sub!luke #luke hemmings smut

97 notes · View notes

divingjudge4 · 4 years ago

Text

Anxiety Treatment And Also Treatment In London, Uk.

Psychological Therapy For Children Teenagers As Well As Households In Gloucestershire.

Content

After Some Time.

What Takes Place In Treatment?

When To See A Cbt Therapist For Ocd?

' Cbt Is A Fraud And Also A Waste Of Cash': Preferred Speaking Therapy Is Not A Long.

Compulsions are actions or routines that you feel driven to act out over and over. Usually, obsessions are executed in an attempt to make obsessions disappear. As an example, if you're afraid of contamination, you might establish intricate cleaning rituals. And the uncontrollable routines as well as actions commonly end up causing anxiousness themselves as they end up being much more requiring and also lengthy. In the last few years, far better results have actually been acquired by utilizing cognitive treatment combined with behavior treatment with obsessive thoughts. Cognitive therapy involves helping the client to reasonably change their thinking as well as therapists have established a number of methods to assist patients deal with their obsessional fears.

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The most efficient therapies for OCD usually entail speaking therapies-- such as therapy, psychotherapy and cognitive behavior treatment-- and medicine. Without therapy, virtually half of people with OCD still have signs thirty years later. With therapy, the expectation for OCD is excellent as well as many individuals will certainly attain a total cure, or at least minimize symptoms sufficient to be able to enjoy a good quality of life. These compulsions or repeated behaviours are usually accomplished with the hope of preventing the obsessive thoughts or making them go away. Executing these routines can give some temporary remedy for the anxiousness. At various other times, the individual might contain uncertainty that they have carried out the routine correctly and so they repeat the routine to 'obtain it right'-- a process that can go on for hrs. Lots of people have rituals, such as examining to see if the oven has been shut off several times before leaving your home.

After Some Time.

Frequently, cognitive behavioural treatments can aid individuals with obsessional thoughts in between 10 as well as 20 sessions of treatment. Nevertheless, top quality research study on the cognitive strategies to obsessional thoughts is still in its early stage and also we wait for bigger researches.

you can learn more about Family Counselling Therapy ='border: black dashed 1px;padding: 14px;'>

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy Reduces Hypochondriacal Symptoms in Long Term - Psychiatry Advisor

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy Reduces Hypochondriacal Symptoms in Long Term.

Posted: Fri, 15 May 2020 07:00:00 GMT [source]

The distinction is that individuals with OCD perform their routines despite the fact that doing so interferes with life and also they discover the repeating distressing. An individual with OCD gets little or no satisfaction from their uncontrollable behavior. Fascinations can be specified as unreasonable and also consistent prompts or ideas that cause individuals to experience significant distress and also anxiousness. The unreasonable ideas, advises as well as behaviours that are related to OCD can be comprehensive, very time consuming and feel out of control.

What Happens In Treatment?

The individual is asked to refrain from the uncontrollable behaviour (table-tapping) and also test the assumption that the mom's life is dependent on their actions. Ranges of awaited disaster are adjusted as well as instructions given. Primitive and also enchanting reasoning patterns are highlighted and logical conclusions made. Most notably, the client learns to tolerate feelings of stress and anxiety that undoubtedly surface area when the controlling behaviors are prevented. In direct exposure treatment, a form of cognitive behavioral treatment, the objective is to create prolonged durations of contact with the feared scenario till the anxiety minimizes normally. Although obsessions decrease anxiousness and also strengthen additional uncontrollable behaviours and routines, the decrease in stress and anxiety generated by an uncontrollable ritual tends to be tiny and also the effect short-lived. Effectively, routines prevent or disturb restorative direct exposure and also rather boost the tendency to ritualise better.

direct-therapy ">

What questions should I ask my child's therapist?

Tell me your understanding of my child's problem developed, and our overall approach for helping her. Tell me about the short- and long-term courses of my child's problems. What type of therapy do you think will be of the most help to my child in his/her particular situation? Why?

Medication as well as emotional treatments can work for relieving symptoms. Nonetheless, high demand and limited sources imply there can be a delay to obtain expert aid. New NIHR study shows pledge for using self-help products combined with modest levels of assistance from psychological health and wellness specialists, while individuals wait for even more intensive therapy. This makes it challenging to lead a regular life as well as is costly to the victim and also broader culture, in terms of lost employment as well as life chances, influence on family members, and assistance as well as welfare expenses. As an example, "If I do not tap the table five times, my mother will pass away".

When To See A Cbt Therapist For Ocd?

Compulsive Compulsive Problem is an anxiety disorder which triggers the private to experience both fixations and also compulsions. Most people will certainly experience some type of fixation e.g. worrying about having left a home appliance on or whether you have actually locked the front door and compulsions e.g. not walking under ladders. Nonetheless, in many cases these signs will not interfere with life.

Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy for Osteoarthritis - HealthCentral.com

Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy for Osteoarthritis.

Posted: Thu, 07 May 2020 07:00:00 GMT [source]

It's when individuals experience obsessive uncontrollable condition, a stress and anxiety problem, while pregnant or in the year after they deliver. When individuals obtain OCD throughout this time, it's called perinatal OCD or maternal OCD. You learned symphonious 2 that the irritating compulsive idea is triggered by OCD and also belongs to a biochemical discrepancy in the mind. In the Acceptance substep of Reattributing, you understand that fact in a very deep, probably also spiritual, means. it makes no feeling to slam your inner intentions just because of an imbalance in the brain.

' Cbt Is A Scam And A Waste Of Money': Popular Talking Treatment Is Not A Long.

In this instance it was vital to recognise just how Islam can change the treatment as well as prevention of Amir's psychological health disorder. Perhaps you are really feeling down and need a risk-free area to conversation, or you would love to fulfill brand-new people or try something various? This website listings over 100 groups around Camden, many providing complimentary or low-priced activities. While some will aid with a certain issue, others offer everyday activities to motivate us all to get out and around. You can make a listing of the teams that are of passion with 'My Shortlist'.

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hempactivegel · 4 years ago

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Hemp Joint And Muscle Active Relief Gel With Natural Ingredients

cannabis medicine and I've treated thousands of patients with medical cannabis in CBD over the years and this is where I share all of that knowledge with you so in this episode today we're going to be talking about CBD used for chronic pain so how can CBD help chronic pain conditions what kind of chronic pain conditions it helps with and which ones it may not be so helpful with and then we're going to talk about how to actually use CBD and the experiences I've had using high CBD types of hemp in medical cannabis with my patients with chronic pain so this is a question I get asked all of the time in facebook groups by email and of course with my patients is they really want to try to use CBD and usually in an oil forms of CBD oil for their chronic pain now there's some CBD oils that you can get over-the-counter in some countries that are from hemp and they don't have any THC in it or less than 0.2 percent THC so basically none and then there's the medical cannabis that really has high high high CBD low THC but does it a little bit of detectable THC in it let's say 1% THC so in my medical practice in Canada where medical cannabis is legal I use a lot of very high CBD very low THC oils to help patients with chronic pain now chronic pain it's a just a huge broad area of medicine because there's so many areas where pain can come from pain can come from the nervous system being injured and come from the nerves called neuropathic pain or nerve pain it can come from inflammation so if someone who has an autoimmune disease or they have arthritis from just wear and tear they can all get different types of pain and you have pain in the nerve endings and you have pain in the body and then you have pain that starts in the brain that's again something called central pain so with all of these different types of pain actually one of the most important systems in our body to manage pain is our own cannabis system in our body our endocannabinoids system so what this means is that when we are facing pain whether it's chronic pain or acute pain there's molecules in our body there's chemicals our body makes to help fight that pain and our body makes cannabis like compounds cannabis like molecules called endocannabinoids it helps to really regulate our pain perception how we kind of perceive pain and also how pain really changes the brain over time so a really common question I get is you know what should I do when I've already tried CBD from somewhere over the counter from a hemp store for example for my chronic pain and it didn't do anything does that mean that cannabis medicine in general and CBD in general it just can't help me the answer is usually no usually the answer is that it probably can be helpful somewhat but it really depends on the type of CBD the concentration of CBD it's different for every person in every pain condition and a lot of other factors like was it a full spectrum cannabis medicine product with lots of different chemicals in it besides the CBD or was a just CBD without anything else like a CBD islip what I find with a lot of chronic pain conditions is because CBD actually interacts with our own cannabis system in our own bodies called the endocannabinoid system it doesn't actually turn pain off directly like a painkiller for example what it does instead is it down regulates our perception of pain and the kind of tones our our nervous system so to speak so it can help with chronic pain over a period of time but often times it might take weeks or months to see in effect and it doesn't cure chronic pain so you have to keep taking it so what can happen with a lot of people is they start taking a very small amount of CS CBD oil and they don't really see much difference if anything oftentimes they have to use a different dose a different product or sometimes adding a tiny bit of THC so using in Canada for example where this is legal a strain of cannabis oil that has a tiny bit of THC and still very very high amount of CBD actually works better for chronic pain in many cases because it actually binds directly to some of the the pain receptors using the THC and then the CBD makes the THC work even better even at these tiny little doses so normally even at those tiny doses of THC people don't normally feel impaired or high so a lot of times people think that CBD oil is going to work directly for their chronic pain but again because CBD actually doesn't bind to either one of the cannabis like receptors in our body the cb1 or the CBT receptor like THC does it works in a more kind of overall toning capacity like a lot of herbal medicines it's all about really toning the nervous system and this is where CBD can be helpful over time there's also still so much we don't know about CBD and about the cannabis plant in general we're really only at the beginning of our scientific understanding and this is really I mean I mean when I say the beginning I mean I read the most up-to-date cutting-edge research every week on this topic and I'm still feeling like you know we're really at the beginning so that being said how can you actually use CBD if you have chronic pain well one way that you can use it is you can help use it to help decrease the anxiety that comes with chronic pain because what happens when you have chronic pain is in the back of your mind even though your brain gets used to having chronic pain it takes up so much bandwidth in your brain so much mental and brain energy to basically dampen the pain signals so you can just go about your life and not feel like you're in constant trauma that over time it can cause a lot of brain anxiety and it can cause a lot of fatigue so what I find seem to be helpful with when someone has chronic pain one of the ways there's many but one of the ways is helping to decrease the brain anxiety levels so basically it helps kind of calm their brain down which dampens the fight-or-flight response or you know the danger response system in the brain and that also dampens pain signals and it also dampens our pain perception because when you have chronic your nervous system is on edge all of the time it's like you're caught in this fight or flight running away from a saber-toothed tiger cycle all of the time and everything is heightened so your awareness of everything of sounds of smells of bright lights and of pain everything gets amplified so basically it just helps kind of calm everything down a notch and even in itself that's really helpful with chronic pain sufferers another way that can actually help chronic pain is if the chronic pain has an inflammation component so that's actually most types of chronic pain even indirectly if you have nerve pain sometimes there's an inflammation component as well so what CBD does in animal models we know and we think in humans although we need really bigger research studies to say exactly how this works but it's probably very similar to what we're seeing in animal models is that CBD actually works on inflammation through a number of different pathways in the body so it can shut down inflammation in some pathways so if pain is coming from inflammation CBD used daily over time may help reduce inflammation and that kind of pain as well another factor in many forms of chronic pain even if you didn't start out this way is the longer the pain goes on the nervous system tries to adapt to the pain and basically your own endocannabinoid system in your other pain control systems they get out of whack they just don't work as well and they kind of reach this new baseline this new kind of dysregulated baseline of I'm okay but actually the nervous system is really just regulated so this is where CBD may be able to help again because it may be able to help rebalance the endocannabinoids system when it's gotten out of whack so the last thing that I'm just gonna mention is okay what types of chronic pain do I see enjoy treat with medical cannabis and high CBD strains especially so I see quite a variety of chronic pain conditions one of the really interesting things that I've noticed in my clinical work with patients and this is not something that's really in the published literature yet is after someone's received chemotherapy for cancer in many cases they use different drugs that really affect numbness and tingling and burning sensations of burning pain the hands and the feet and this is kind of a neuropathic or nerve type of pain that specifically people get after a lot of chemo therapies especially the breast cancer chemotherapy regimens and what I've found is when patients use CBD oil after they finish their chemo and they keep using it their pain their burning pain in their hands and their tingling pain in their hands and their feet tend to tend to go away a lot quicker then I would say on average so it may be really a place specifically received II show some promise there's some animal studies on that type of pain specifically using CBD and we need more research to say exactly how it works in humans but it's really promising another type of pain that I treat is fibromyalgia I also treat arthritis pain and pain that's associated with a lot of other chronic diseases so I'm gonna talk about each of those in another video specifically but in general I think for chronic pain CBD holds a lot of promise especially when it's combined with other chemicals in the cannabis plant and potentially with other herbals and other medications so if you like this video please subscribe to our Channel and also please share this video with your friends and family who might benefit from it too and if you want more great free resources from me on CBD cannabis medicine and evidence-based natural medicine come over and join me on dr. Danny Gordon comm and sign up for our emails where you're going to get updates for me personally and exclusive content

#Hemp active gel #hemp gel

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gogh-save-the-bees · 6 years ago

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Fibromyalgia Masterpost

As someone who has struggled with severe chronic and pain fatigue for over a decade and have recently been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia - I have decided to research my condition amd educate myself on my symptoms.

Fibromyalgia, also called fibromyalgia syndrome (FMS), is a long-term condition that causes pain all over the body. As well as widespread pain, people with fibromyalgia may also have: increased sensitivity to pain. fatigue (extreme tiredness) muscle stiffness.

Through my own research i have learned that many difficulties i have are directly linked to Fibromyalgia. There are over 200+ symptoms and while not everyone will expereince all of them, we experience our own combonation of debilitating symptoms.

With anything, education is key.

If you have fibromyalgia, have a family member or friend with the condition or would like to be more educated on the condition this post can help.

Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional and do not claim to know everything about fibromyalgia. This post will not list everything so i urge you to do your own research. And if you have any of these symptoms, go to your doctor!

Symptoms (most common)

All over pain is the most common symptom of fibromyalgia but the syndrome causes many others. Extreme fatigue , trouble sleeping and feeling stiff and achy. Your ability to think and make decisions can be affected (this is known as fibro-fog).

As well as widespread pain, your muscles can be very tight and knotted. They can be painful to touch and they radiate pain to other areas - these firm knots are myofascial trigger points. (These knots are commonly used to diagnose fibromyalgia in a physical pressure point exam)

Other Symptoms

Cold feet and hands

Feeling cold often/feeling hot often

Heart palpitations

Craving carbohydrates

Symptoms worsened by temperature changes

Unexplained weight gain or loss

Joint pain

Feeling spaced out

Restless Leg Syndrome

Noise intolerance

Scalp Pain (like hair being pulled out)

Sensation that you might faint/ Syncope (fainting)

Tinnitus (ringing in one or both ears)

Photophobia (sensitivity to light)

“Growing” pains that don’t go away once you are done growing

Transposition (reversal) of numbers, words and/or letters when you speak

Difficulty with long-term memory/and short-term momory

Difficulty following conversation (especially if background noise present)

Difficulty expressing ideas in words

Blind spots in vision

Eye pain

Excessive sleeping

Difficulty falling asleep/ Difficulty staying asleep

Difficulty balancing

Vivid or disturbing dreams/nightmares

Sensitivity to the sun

Bruising easily

Sensory overload

Allodynia (hypersensitive to touch)

Menstrual problems

Suicidal thoughts

Irritability

Abrupt and/or unpredictable mood swings

Frequent crying

Diagnosis, Medical Help and Treatment

If you think you or someone you know has fibromyalgia go see your doctor. Tell them about your symptoms and explain that you think it might be fibromyalgia. Keep in mind that a diagnosis can take time and you have to be persistant and in many cases fight for your diagnosis!

Common treatment involves pain medication, anti-depressants, physiotherapy and therapy (CBT and pain managment).

Self Help

The most common coping technique for chronic pain is breathing exercises and meditation. Try the following,

Put yourself in a relaxed, reclined position in a dark/or low-light room. You can shut your eyes or focus on a point.

Begin to slow down your breathing. Breathe in deeply, using your chest. If you find your mind wandering or you are distracted, then think of a word, such as the word "Relax," and think it in time with your breathing...the syllable "re" as you breathe in and "lax" as you breathe out.

Do this for 2 to 3 minutes or until you feel relaxed.

Now that you feel yourself slowing down, you can try to use imagery techniques, like the ones below.

Positive imagery

Focus your attention on a pleasant place that you can imagine going to - the beach, mountains, a place where you feel safe and relaxed.

Positive self-talk

Encourage yourself and tell yourself: I can do this, I am strong and capable. Find a positive coping statement or affirmation that works for you (even if you don't believe it at first!). Write it down and memorise it for when you need it.

Counting

Counting is a good way to deal with painful episodes. You can count aloud or in your head. You can count breaths, the number of yellow items in your room, the floor tiles, or even visualise some sheep and count them!

Grounding techniques

Look around you, what do you see, hear, smell, sense? Say aloud (or in your head):

5 things you can see? 4 things that you can touch? 3 things you can feel? 2 thing you can smell?

It can also be helpful to use sensory items like plushies, fidgets, slime, and more! Anything that brings you comfort or joy or relaxation.

Pamper yourself

Do something you really enjoy, or do something relaxing like a bubble bath!

Mindfullness Box

Make a box of items that remind you to use the techniques that help, or put photos on paper, or write and decorate a list. (This box can be filled with items to help with depressive episodes)

The daily fight with fibromyalgia goes beyond pain management and fatigue and it's important to be educated on all aspects of the condition.(Especially if you or someone you care for has a diagnosis)

What are the facts

Fibromyalgia is a neurological illness and involves neurotransmitters (chemical messengers in the brain) that are also involved in some mental illness. This means that depression and anxiety are common overlapping conditions in fibromyalgia.

Stress is a major exacerbating factor in many, if not most, cases of fibromyalgia. It's suspected as a causal factor and known to make symptoms worse and cause flare-ups.

It is also believed that childhood trauma may alter the body's physiological stress response leading to illness later in life.

Looking after your mental health is just as important as physical treatments when treating fibromyalgia. (I should state that fibromyalgia is a chronic illness and that there is no cure for the condition.)

When it comes to fibromyalgia patients seeking mental health help it's not much different from someone without the condition seeking similar help.

The major difference would be around pain managment and the emotional distress that comes with daily pain and the inability to live a normal life. It's common for fibromyalgia sufferers to feel hopless/helpless and worthless alongsides feelings of frustration.

It is believed that depressive episodes, mood swings, suicidal thoughts and suicidal attempts are all symptoms of fibromyalgia and it is very common for fibro-sufferes to struggle severly with poor mental health.

Treatments such as anti-depressants, anxiety medications and therapy are commonly suggested alongsides pain medications. Both help the other as stress and low mood decrease our ability to cope with pain.

Mental Health Techniques

Keep a mood diary

This will help you keep track of any changes in your mood, and you might find that you have more good days than you think. It can also help you notice if any activities, places or people make you feel better or worse.

Connect with people

A good support network will always be a good thing. Having people you can reach out to when in distress is a important part of recovery and having good mental health.

Take control

If the problem has a solution, make it happen! Don't let thoughts like "i cant do anything" hold you back as they only add to the problem. But,

Accept the things you can't change

Changing a difficult situation isn't always possible. Especially when you have a disability. Instead, try to concentrate on the things you do have control over.

Try to be positive

Look for the positives in life, and things for which you're grateful. Challenge thoughts like "I can't do this" or "there's no point" or anytype of thoughts which are negative and defeatist. They won't help, chuck them out!

TIP: Try writing down 3 things that went well, or for which you're grateful, at the end of every day.

Work smarter

What i mean is, some tasks are more important than other. As someone with a chronic illness it's not always, if at all possible to do more than one task a day. Often we are forced to choose between making food or cleaning and we have to learn to prioritise based on a number of factors. Don't feel bad when you can't do a lot or even anything, your pain and illness is valid and the last thing you need is to feel guilty about something you can't control.

If you have to choose between washing the dishes or preventing a flare up - your health wins everytime.

Diet, sleep and exercise...

It can be frustrating we all you hear is "you should exercise, eat healthy and have a good sleep routine..." and somehow people think that this will heal us. This is not the case.

Yes, a healthy diet, sleep schedule and light exercise is good for us but it's not as easy for us to achieve. There are many factors that make access to these difficult (poverty being the big one). But, lets ignore that for now (like everyone else does).

Okay, lets say we eat a healthy diet. We can't always follow a sleep routine because we have severe pain that is generally worse at night. We also struggle with other symptoms that are more prominant at night (restless leg syndrome, heat intolerence, twitching, nightmares...) that make getting to sleep and staying asleep very difficult. And, exercise is the hardest of them all. We cant go to the gym and get our sweat on. It's not in the cards. Every chronically ill person has been told to eat healthier, sleep better and exercise and it's not helpful. In fact, it only adds to our stress. If you don't know what you're talking about (e.g. you suffer from a similar chronic illness or are a medical professional) then shut up!

Excerise when you can. Don't excert yourself. Swimming is one of the best options. Eat as healthy as you can (but any food is better than nothing) and try your best to keep a sleep routine. But don't stress when these things arent possible, they won't cure you, they will only help you decrease your symptoms and make them more managable.

This has been a long post, congradulation on making it to the end! I hope this post has been educational and helpful in some way or another. Feel free, encouraged even, to reach out to me with any questions, i am happy to amswer any to the best of my ability. Please reblog this post so other fibromyalgia sufferes can have a read and add to the post if they wish.

I would also like to add that i am looking for fellow spoonies to follow on here and instagram (@gogh_save_the_bees) give me a follow and ill do that back!

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dysthymiadysfunction · 5 years ago

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Okay, so I posted once and dropped off the face of the earth. Whoops.

I’d love to say “I’ve been super busy with work” or “I’ve been on holiday!” but honestly I’ve just been trying to keep my head above water. It’s been a mess of appointments with various mental health teams, work, pet care, house work and attempting to force myself to do things to will supposedly help with how terrible I feel.

And I’m not going to lie; it’s mostly been out of spite that I’ve been doing these things. It’s so when I go to the doctors/see a therapist/ family member or co-worker asks how I’m doing and if I’ve tried X, Y or Z I can say “Yes, I’m doing yoga, I’m going swimming, I’m taking my meds, I’m doing the CBT workbooks I got from the library and I’m meditating”. Heck I even have a Headspace subscription and an extensive collection of colouring books and sharpie pens.

Pro-Tip; felt tip pens make colouring a lot easier if you have wrist/finger pain.

But hey, if my determination to tell people that I’m doing all that crap to shut them up is stronger than the depression and anxiety I’m not going to complain. At least it’s getting done.

Anyway, I promise this is all linked to what I wanted to talk about today. Which is; Depression and motivation.

It’s a struggle that really eats away at me. And I see it affecting other people around me as well.

Sometimes it’s just shrugging off something until tomorrow that I really should, but don’t really want to do e.g. cleaning out the guinea pigs litter trays. And sometimes it’s not washing my hair for two weeks. Or leaving the laundry to accumulate for weeks on end. Or, in one really bad case, letting paperwork I couldn’t be bothered to put away to clutter my desk at work for weeks.

Sometimes it’s a bit more serious. E.g. I just can’t cook dinner, leaving wet laundry in the machine for days on end, or putting off the less enjoyable parts of my job. All of which impact not only me, but the people around me. But it’s usually a minor inconvenience for others at least. Although in the case of the first one, it can be an excuse to eat Burger King on a Tuesday night. Which is at least tasty?

But there’s a few things I do (or don’t do) that are really not good, and honestly I’m ashamed of. At my worst I didn’t bathe for a month. A whole freaking month. No wet wipes, no showers, not even a damp flannel. Just me stewing in my own filth, and trying to hold myself together with dry shampoo, deodorant and strong perfume. I honestly can’t excuse it. I just felt so terrible the idea of even a quick shower was exhausting. I had to cut chunks out of my hair where it was so matted from not being washed. And I developed a skin infection. It was bad.

Honestly I’m a little apprehensive about including that admission. But I think it’s important to talk about those bits of depression. Depression is so often depicted by well-manicured young women with a single tear and artfully smudged mascara. When, it’s really not that at all. It’s wearing the same leggings for a week straight because you can’t muster the motivation to change more than just your shirt. And even that’s only because you’ve sat and done some mental calculations and decided it’s less effort to change your t-shirt than it is to explain why you’ve been wearing the same thing for multiple days to people.

According to Smith (2013) a common characteristic of depression is “a diminishment in or lack of action and motivation”. And oh heck do I feel that.

It’s something that CBT focuses on greatly as well. But the best advice you really get from your therapist is to “make yourself do it, even if you don’t want to”. At least in my experience anyway. Personally I find that only works for so long.

But by the time I’ve forced myself to get out of bed, get dressed, make myself look like I didn’t just roll out of bed, walk to work, eat breakfast, do my job (to varying degrees of quality I’ll admit), get lunch and walk home I don’t have a lot of “force myself” left. And I work part time, so for people in my situation who do work full time, I can only imagine how tired you must feel.

I don’t really have anywhere I’m going with this, no profound statements or anything. Just that if you’re also going through this; you’re not alone. And it’s okay to take a break from “forcing yourself” to do things sometimes. Obviously not all the time, but sometimes you need that break. Or maybe just pick your fights with your depression.

Some days when I’m feeling overwhelmed and fatigued by it all I’ll try and prioritise things. For example; it’s more important to brush my teeth than my hair, root canal is expensive and takes weeks to resolve. But matted hair can be cut out in seconds or brushed out later with some conditioner and elbow grease in a few minutes.

Another thing I do is use preventative measures. I have very long and sort of curly hair, and when I’m feeling good, I love it and I love looking after it. But when I’m sick, as I’ve said before, it gets neglected quickly. So if I can feel it coming on I’ll put it up in twin plaits so it doesn’t get so dirty or so tangled. None of this fancy braiding though, I have neither the patience or the skill for it. Just basic on your way to first day of Reception class at primary school in the 90s plaits.

I also cook in batch so I don’t have to worry about it during the week, and lay my clothes for work out for the week on Sundays. It’s a bit of a pain in my arse on Sunday, but when I’m stumbling around in the dark muttering about wanting to die before work I appreciate it.

What about you guys? Do any of you have things you struggle with in particular? Or any hints and tips that you find help you? I’m always looking for new things to make my life a bit easier.

Reference:

Smith, B. 2013. Depression and motivation. Phenomenology and the Cognotive Sciences. Volume 12. Issue 4. Pp 615-635.

#depression #dysthymia #depressionawareness #depressionselfhelp #mental health #ocd #psychosis #selfcare #mental illness #mental health awareness #blog #mental illness blog #mental health blog #depression blog

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timeoutforthee · 5 years ago

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Like It or Not-Chapter 20

Taglist: @itsausernamenotafobsong, @sea-blue-child, @iaminmultiplefandoms, @princeanxious, @uwillbeefoundtonight, @zaidiashipper, @arandompasserby, @levyredfox3, @falsett0, @error-i-dunno-what-went-wrong, @scrapbookofsketches, @podcastsandcoffee, @helloisthisusernametaken, @amuthefunperson, @michealawithana, @yamihatarou, @heck-im-lost, @unlikelynightmareconnoisseur, @idkaurl, @bubblycricket, @fnp-alizay, @neonbluetiefling, @comicsimpson, @a-little-bit-of-ace

Summary: Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil are all struggling in their recovery. Their doctors, Thomas Sanders and Emile Picani think they can help each other out.

Aka Group Therapy AU

Trigger Warnings: purging (skip from "why did he bother?" to "are you okay?"), reference to child abuse

Read it on AO3!

“How’d your session go?” Violet asks. She always asks, as soon as Virgil shuts the door to the car, before he can put on his headphones. He never answers with anything besides-

“Fine,” he says, immediately pulling out his iPod. Then he pauses.

Violet glances over at him as they pull out of the parking lot.

“I mean…,” Virgil wants to put it off. A part of him wants to think that if he puts it off enough, he might just forget. But he knows better.

Like a band-aid, he tells himself, Just rip it off.

“It went better than the last session,” Virgil admits.

“Really?” Violet asks, trying to keep her tone steady, “What happened last session?”

A part of her tells her not to press, that it’s going to end in a growl and silence, but instead Virgil sighs.

“I told Dr. Picani about Dad.”

“Really?” she still keeps her tone steady, though she’s having a much more difficult time now.

“Not everything,” Virgil says quickly, “But you know...I told him that Dad used to hit me.”

Violet thinks back. She doesn’t think Virgil has said those words out loud to anyone, ever. Not even her, even though she obviously knew.

“I haven’t told anyone else, not even the guys in group, maybe I will eventually, but I-” Virgil cuts himself off, shoving his iPod back in his pocket. If he was going to do this, he had to commit.

“I still don’t like to tell people,” he admits, “Like it was the secret I had to protect, to take to the grave, and now there’s no point.” And it’s my fault.

Violet’s heart twists at how loyal Virgil still is to his dad. She knows how hard it is to walk away, to stay away, to realize they let you down, and in such a cruel way. A part of her brain latches on to “to take to the grave,” and she wonders if Virgil was planning on that being soon.

“It’s amazing you felt comfortable enough to tell him,” she says, tucking all that away for now.

“I wouldn’t call it amazing-”

“I would,” Violet says, immediately, offering no room for argument.

“So, you said this session was easier, what did you talk about this time?”

“Goals, mostly,” he says, “And Roman was talking about his brother, about how he was trying...and it kinda made me think about you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah...look,” Virgil tugs a hand through his hair. “I know you’re trying. A lot harder than should be expected of you, and I...I really appreciate it. Even though I don’t show it. It’s just...hard for me. It’s hard and I don’t know why.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” Violet says, “But the thing I want you to understand is I want to try this hard, whether it “should be” expected or not, you’ve been through a lot-”

“It wasn’t that bad-”

“You’ve been through a lot,” she repeats, using her “I’m not fucking around” voice, “And...I could’ve made it easier all those years ago, and I didn’t,” she swallows, still attempting to keep her voice even. The last thing Virgil needs is for her to start crying on him, “And I can’t go back and fix that. The best thing I can do now is be here for you, when you’re ready.”

They pull into the apartment complex and she glances over at Virgil. He finally tears his eyes away from the front window and looks back at her. They sit there a second, and Virgil smiles at her.

“Thanks,” he says, simply, and with that, they head upstairs.

He should have said no, he should have said no, what the fuck was he thinking-

“Roman, are you okay?” Max asks, as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Fine,” his voice shakes.

Max thought it would be a good idea to go out for dinner, since everyone at home had probably already eaten. Roman was also pretty sure this was his form of an apology for their previous conversation, so how could he say no? He thought he could handle it, he had handled the pizza before. He’d probably find something on the menu that was at least a bit healthy.

But when the food came there was just so much of it. He felt like everyone was staring at him. He should have saved some, but he was just so hungry. He could feel everyone’s eyes staring at him while he ate, he must have looked like an animal.

“Are you sure?” Max asks, “You barely ate anything during dinner.”

….what?

“I just...don’t feel so great,” Roman says. It’s not a complete lie. His goal for the week flashes in his head, but he can’t do that. Not yet.

“Okay, well,” Max says, pulling out of the parking lot. “We’re only about fifteen minutes from home.”

Thankfully, those fifteen minutes pass quickly, and when they get home, Roman bolts up the stairs to the bathroom.

He’s sweating. He can still taste it on his tongue, and it fills him with regret. Why did he bother?

A thought comes to him. He has to get rid of it. He has to.

Before he can think about it too much, he turns to the toilet and shoves his finger back his throat. The response is almost immediate.

Better is not the word Roman would use to describe how he’s feeling. Gross is probably more accurate, but to be fair, he felt gross before, too. So, this scenario was definitely better.

“Ro?”

Oh, shit.

“Are you okay?” Max calls, because of course it’s fucking Max. “I thought I heard you throwing up.”

Roman flushes to give himself time to think. Then he washes his hands to stall even longer. Then he pauses for just a little longer, hoping he can maybe wait him out. But, nope, when he opens the door, Max is still standing there.

“Are you okay?” he repeats, his hand going to Roman’s forehead. Roman shoves his hand away.

“Who are you? Mom? I’m fine,” Roman says, trying to brush it off quickly. “I guess the food just wasn’t that great.”

“...oh,” Max says, as if he’s disappointed, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Roman says, trying to reassure him. “It happens.”

“You’re right, it just sucks,” Max says, turning back down the hall. He’s about to disappear down the stairs when he pauses and turns around, “But you’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Roman says, smiling.

Here’s the thing: Patton loves everybody. And he doesn’t get hung up on shallow things, like appearances. He loves everybody, and he loves everybody’s body. Whether they were thin or fat, or tall or short, covered in freckles or clear-skinned, he thought everyone was beautiful.

Everyone, that is, except for himself.

When it came to himself, he hated everything.

“Patton?” Thomas asks. Patton snaps his head up and immediately smiles. “I asked what you like about yourself. What are some things you can think about for your affirmations?”

“I don’t know, doc, don’t you think affirmations are a little silly?”

“No,” his therapist responds, uncharacteristically serious, “I think they work.”

“Oh...okay, well-how do they work?”

“It’s an attempt to retrain your brain, right now you probably have a lot of shame and such surrounding yourself, and you can talk badly to yourself, so affirmations are a way to add positivity back to that mix, to try and even out the playing field a bit.”

“Ah, so what if I don’t talk badly to myself?”

“Well, then I would have to ask why you’re bingeing and purging in the first place?”

“I haven’t done that!” Patton lies, “Not recently, anyway.”

“I’m sorry, I misspoke, why did you start bingeing and purging in the first place?”

And, really, Patton can’t remember, it’s been so long.

“I...don’t remember.”

“Okay, I know it’s been a while, but try and think back to when you were using these behaviors. How’d you feel right before they happened?”

“I don’t think I was feeling much of anything,” It’s not a lie. Patton always feels numb when he starts. Then regret sets in after.

“Then let’s start here,” Thomas says, turning to grab a binder. As he flips through the pages, he continues talking, “Because numbness is not the lack of emotion. It’s what happens when you’re feeling so overwhelmed that your defense is to shut it all down.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” Thomas says, “Here it is. There are other emotions we can look at, but I think that this one may be the most accurate.”

At the top of the worksheet, the title is “Shame.”

As Patton reads through the “symptoms,” he finds that more and more fit when he wakes up at night, right before he binges.

“You see, in the simplest terms, shame is when we feel like we’ve done something bad, and therefore we are a bad person.”

“So, what would I do?”

Thomas flips a few more pages and lands on one that says “Check the facts.”

“You would do this,” he says, “You would see if your emotions and intensity fit the facts.”

“And if they didn’t…?”

“You would do the opposite action, which is exposing the thing that you think you should be ashamed of, in a safe space, where people won’t reject you,” Thomas says. “Here, let’s break it down a little bit.”

Thomas lays out all the different ways to interpret an action, about how you would check the facts objectively, but the trick is you have to be honest about the way you’re feeling and why you’re feeling it.

“So, in theory, if I were still bingeing and purging, this could stop it?”

“DBT and CBT is helpful for many patients, so I think it’s worth a try,” Thomas says, “And you have plenty of people who are safe to talk to, Patton. You have me, the group, and your mom. Do you think you could talk to one of them if you’re feeling ashamed?”

“I...I guess I could,” Patton goes quiet, “Hey, Dr. Sanders?” his voice quivers a bit.

“Yes?”

“I...I lied. I’m sorry. But I haven’t stopped. I never stopped.”

A few tears fall down his face. He’s met with silence, so he looks up and sees his therapist giving him a gentle smile.

“That’s okay, Patton,” he says, “We can work on it.”

Patton takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly. “Okay.”

#like it or not #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders

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alextheantichrist-blog · 6 years ago

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The Last Demon

Keith Collins looked into his bathroom mirror and saw the demon. He was repulsed by its dark green skin, peppered with black dots. The muscular body towered over him, with curved horns twice as large as its head. Its long, serpent-like tail lashed back and forth. The red, flaming eyes stared into his own.

Sweat beaded Keith's forehead. I thought I was rid of you.

Images of mutilated bodies flashed before his eyes. He saw his hands covered in blood. Those hands were the same as the demon's. He saw himself ripping the still-beating heart out of another human being. He remembered the joy it brought him.

No, I'm not like that anymore, he yelled inside his head, crouching and clutching it in both hands. The demon is gone. It has been exorcised. It's not a part of me anymore.

I will always be a part of you, whispered the deep voice of the demon. You cannot escape me.

"No, you're gone!" Keith yelled, striking the mirror with his right fist. A crack spiderwebbed on the mirror. His right hand started to bleed.

"Damn it," he muttered, nursing his bleeding hand.

The black-robed cultist rushed Keith. Keith let the demon take control of his hand, transforming it into a dark green, black-spotted claw. He punched the cultist square in the stomach, the impact felling him. Keith then took ahold of him with his demon claw. The other hand turned into a claw, as well.

"Please," cried the cultist. "Spare me. I swear I won't do this anymore."

He's too dangerous, whispered the demon in his mind. Don't trust him.

"You're right," whispered Keith. He then crushed the cultist's head with his left hand. It squirted blood like an overripe grapefruit.

Jenna Watson, Keith's demon hunter friend, stared on in horror.

"He was a liability," explained Keith.

"S-Sure," stuttered Jenna.

The remaining cultists then rushed the two. Jenna pointed her right palm at them and let out a force blast. It hit them hard and they all toppled down. Keith then rushed over and started rending their flesh with his claws to finish them off.

"Keith, stop it," cried Jenna. "They're people!"

"Who's to say they won't summon another demon?" replied Keith. "We have to put an end to this now before more demons come into our realm."

"I-I guess. It still bothers me, though."

"If it bothers you, then look away."

Jenna pouted.

After he finished, Keith looked at his bloody claws.

Sweet, sweet blood, whispered the demon. Sweet, delicious blood. Taste it.

"No," he cried out, startling Jenna. He then wiped the blood on his pants.

They opened the door and stepped into the next room. On a throne of black obsidian sat Nazrafel, The Dark King. He was twelve feet tall and black from head to foot. Large spikes jutted out of his arms, legs and back. Two wings made of rotting skin flowed out of his shoulders. He had the large white tusks of an elephant. His horns were those of a goat, but four times as large. His eyes were dark crimson and lidless.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he began, stepping off his throne and moving towards the two. "I have heard of you, Keith. You have the power of the great demon Terraga inside you. Why do you use it to fight against us? It must be tearing you apart trying to keep it in check. Why not let it roam free? Join us, and you shall have power beyond your wildest dreams!"

"I'm good, thanks." Keith's eyes turned red as he lunged forward.

He went to slash Nazrafel and the demon blocked it with its right arm. It felt hard as stone. Nazrafel then grabbed his neck and started strangling him. Keith tried to break free, but the grip was like a vice.

"That's not enough, I'm afraid," mocked Nazrafel. "You will have to go full power against me."

I can beat him, cried the demon in his head. Just give me full control.

"No," cried Keith. He let the demon take control of both his arms and was able to pull free. He then pumped the demon's energy into his teeth. They grew into fangs as he bit into the Dark King's neck.

Nazrafel laughed in his booming voice. "This is your best? How disappointing."

The demon pulled him off and threw him to the ground. Keith's fangs shattered. Stars exploded into his field of vision.

Give in to me. You can't beat him like this.

"Quiet!"

Keith got back up and let loose a stream of hellfire from his mouth.

"Useless," cried Nazrafel, making it all disappear with a wave of his hand. He then loosed his own hellfire stream. Keith cried as his flesh burned.

You're going to die at this rate. Let me take over!

"Fine, but just this once," replied Keith.

His clothes ripped apart as he turned into the demon. He then tore loose of the hellfire. A dark aura surrounded him and he focused that dark energy into a ball. Nazrafel did the same. They both hurled their energy balls at the same time. They met in the middle.

"My magic is stronger than yours," cried Nazrafel, pushing his ball towards Keith's side.

Keith struggled to keep it in check. His whole body was tense. Sweat beaded his brow.

"Now die!" cried The Dark King as he hurled all his power into the blast.

The dark energy inched slowly towards Keith. He then cried out and threw everything he had into it. The giant ball of energy flew across the room towards Nazrafel and engulfed him.

"Impossible!" cried the demon. "This cannot be!"

The overwhelming energy turned him to ash.

"Keith, you did it," yelled Jenna. "The last demon has been destroyed!"

The monster turned towards her. "Keith is no longer here."

The demon lunged for Jenna as she shrieked. Its long claws tore into her body, leaving long, deep gashes. She was bleeding heavily.

"Keith. Please. Come back to me."

Suddenly the demon's head changed back into Keith's. "Jenna? What have I done?"

He slowly changed back into a human. After realizing what had happened, he grabbed his hair and with tears in his eyes cried out in despair.

You killed them, Keith, whispered the voice of the demon. You knew exactly what you were doing. Those people had families and loved ones, you know. How do you think they felt when they found out?

"Shut up!" Keith paced around the living room. "It had to be done. They were a danger to the world."

You took their lives. Who do you think you are, God?

"I never said I was."

You even hurt the ones you love. Look what you did to Jenna.

He went to the kitchen. He opened the fridge door and took out the bottle of Jack Daniel's. He poured himself a glass and emptied it in one gulp. The demon's voice became quieter. The images began to blur together.

Keith picked up the phone and dialed Jenna's number.

"Hello?"

"Jenna, I'm not doing well. The thoughts are back and they're stronger than ever. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"It's okay. You're going to be okay. Just know that this is a normal reaction. You've been through some horrible shit. Feeling guilty about it just means you have a conscience."

"Yeah, that's nice, but that's not gonna stop the thoughts."

"The thoughts may never stop. You just need to find a way to quiet them so that they don't bother you."

"The only thing that helps me do that is alcohol."

"Hm. That's no good. Have you tried anything else?"

"I've tried many things, Jenna! Meditation, distraction, CBT. None of these damn things work. What am I supposed to do?"

"Okay, calm down. You're starting to lash out and I can't help you when you get like this."

Keith sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just... lost. Life is just so empty now. It's nothing but pain. Maybe I should just end it."

"No, Keith, don't! Please! There are people who care about you."

"Yeah, that's what I should do. I should end it all now."

"No, Keith, wait..." He hung up.

Keith took out a kitchen knife and walked over to the bathroom. He watched his reflection in the mirror as he held the knife up to his throat. "Let's do this."

I wonder what death will be like, he thought. Will it just be nothing but darkness? Will I just cease to be? I can't die now. I haven't really lived yet. And I know Jenna will miss me.

No, this is the way it has to be done! I can't live on with this pain anymore. It's too much.

I'm scared. I don't wanna die.

Just do it, pussy!

I can't. I can't do this to Jenna. I care about her too much.

"God dammit!" He threw the knife in the sink.

After a while, a series of hard knocks came at the door. "Keith, open up!"

Keith opened the door. Jenna lunged towards him and gave him a strong hug. "I'm so glad you're safe."

"Sorry for making you worry."

She let go of him. "It's okay. I understand what you're going through is really rough. Maybe you should look for a therapist."

"What kind of therapist would believe the kinds of things I have seen?"

"You don't have to tell them the whole truth. Just lie and said you were in a war or something. Keith, you really need help. You can't do this alone."

Keith sighed. "You're right. I will look for one tomorrow."

"Thank you."

She laughed.

"What?" asked Keith.

"I totaled my car on the way here."

"Is that right?"

"Yup. You owe me."

Keith laughed. "I guess I do."

#psychological #ptsd #trauma #urban

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spale-vosver · 6 years ago

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A Year In Review: 2018 Edition

I don’t normally make my own posts here, nor are they ever personal (I say as though I make posts at all), but since the year is very close to being over—in fact, as I’m writing this it’s 11:02 PM on December 31st—I wanted to look back at where I’ve been and where I still have to go; review the year, basically.

2018 was one hell of a bumpy year for me, though bumpy isn’t inherently bad. I met some amazing friends (you’ll all be mentioned later on) and at the same time lost and almost lost some amazing ones, whether it was to them moving away or my own mistakes. I got involved in so many new things I’d never done before: I got fully involved in theatre, I got kind of maybe in shape, I started caring about my health, I met so many new people both irl and online, I asked my (now ex but still best friend) girlfriend out for the first time it was honestly so new to me and coming out of my shell was an experience I needed.

As the year progressed and school wrapped up, though, I started to wane a bit. Anyone who knows me knows that summer wasn’t great mental health, especially since I was cooped up inside all day doing absolutely nothing but watching YouTube and playing way too much Crusader Kings, and everyone I interacted with felt the effects. I wasn’t nearly as accountable for my own health as I should have been, and I ended up hurting the same amazing people I’d met that year. Truth be told, I’ve still not fully recovered from those mistakes, and though I know no one holds it against me, they’re still some of my biggest regrets. Even now I’m still making them, but each time I make one, it’s less severe than the last time, and each time progressively less and less bad, so I’m improving, though not as fast as I want to, and unfortunately that speed won’t be achieved until I finally start CBT.

Speaking of that, this year wasn’t totally awful on the mental health front, though, considering I both went to a gender therapist to speak about advancements in my transition and was properly diagnosed with anxiety and depression and probably autism, and I can finally start treatment for them. When I do, my own efforts won’t be in vain, and I’ll hopefully have a leg up on whatever treatment I start. I just hope it comes soon, though, because seasonal depression can actually kiss my ass and no, Pennsylvania, 11 days is NOT a suitable amount of time for a break.

Anyways, now on to the real gushy stuff where I @ my friends and acquaintances and tell them how much I lurvvvv them. So, starting off with who I met first:

@thefunrepository/Camille/pash: When you let me join your discord server, I met some of the best people and best friends I’ve ever had, and for that, I’m eternally grateful. Even though you’ve now left that server, when you were there, you tolerated so much of my incessant rambling and @ing and my overall teenage boy-i-ness, but you never made me feel excluded, and I loved every second of it. Thank you so much for even tolerating me, because when I joined and was even just talking to you, that was what I needed most. (P.S.: here’s a New Years resolution for you: FINISH A WIP thanks bye I love you)

@xinnic: my fellow Irish Catholic fam, you’ve been nothing but supportive of me and my work from day one, and I can’t count how many nights over the pretty-shitty summer I spent cooling down by rambling to you about my gay trash kids and my gay trash WIP. Likewise, I’ve never gotten tired of your ramblings about your gay trash kids and your gay trash WIP, and your rambles have singlehandedly made me weak for Roísín in 1000 different ways. You’ve always been there when I needed to talk or reference something, and when you bring your meme game, it’s top tier. I remember almost crying when you started the binder squad, and though it’s no longer around, I still appreciate it. Thank you so much for caring and just being you.

@lilquill: man, oh man do we have a weird relationship. I honestly kind of thought you were annoying at first and no that’s not unique to you but I also warmed up to you really quickly. Your energy levels are unmatched and no matter how tired I am, your ability to somehow shout over text fixes that. You’ve spearheaded so many weird and memorable moments for the hell server, including the readings that led us to our voice reveals, to the ACOTRASH find and replace kerfuffle, and so many other things. Besides that, you’ve been a great friend, always pushing me to do better and be better and calling me out when necessary; I may not show it the best, but I appreciate all of it, and I probably wouldn’t be who I am right now without you. You’re also one of the bravest and most outspoken people I know, with the whole whiteblr deal only proving how willing you are to speak out against bullshit and bigotry. Thank you so much for your undying support of me and of everyone else, and I only hope to be as badass as you someday.

@gingerly-writing: ok please don’t be upset that yours is slightly shorter than everyone else’s but I wasn’t around you as much SO. You’re an insanely talented writer and memeing at you as well as sharing my writing has been so fun. I annoy you so much but you still manage to tolerate me and honestly that’s insanely commendable. I want to see you succeed in all of your projects this year and the next and the next and so on, as well as continue giving amazing advice; when you told me I was really good at characterisation, it was the first time I’d ever gotten proper writing advice, and I’ll cherish it always. Thank you for being a pal and dealing with mine (and someone else’s who we’ll mention later) shenanigans.

@olympusrox123: Sian, you fucking Aussie meme, I love you so much and you won’t get this until later because you’re on a goddamn plane but oh well. You’re insanely funny and smart, and you’ve made me laugh so many times I can’t keep count. When you took part in the name change shenanigans on discord, that was when I knew you were A Top Tier Meme and someone I could send only my freshest. Apart from that, you’re so sweet and have always been interested in what I have to say; plus, I love screaming at you about whatever and whenever and that time we read the Sherlock fic? Godly. Anyways, I just want to say that I heckin love you and that I hope you stay just as you are. Thank you for being you.

@ardentlythieving: oh man oh man oh man my ultimate meme buddy. My compadre. Second member of the three Memesketeers. The shit we’ve gotten up to together is amazing and I’ve loved every second of it. From the day we met we’ve been basically inseparable members, despite your penchant for backstabbing and betraying my meme plans due to your chaotic neutral nature, and every memey thing we’ve done together and every in joke we’ve made has been one of the most memorable meme moments of my life. You’ve always been there when I wanted or needed to just let loose my chaotic energy, and the fact that you just sort of adopted me into both your meme house and your internet family in general has made me so happy. I’ve loved playing SWTOR with you and talking about Thrawn with you and sending you the worst shit I can find, and I wouldn’t trade a second of it. Thank you for being your memey-ass self, and if I don’t get even better memes this year I’m flying to your hell-sheep-rock-land to fight you.

@thornheartcat: we’re waaaaay too fucking similar for our own good. To our taste in video games and anime (max weebage) to our experiences with ASD, I’ve found so many ways to relate to you, which has made talking to you so fun. And that’s another thing: you’re older than me by a lot, but you’ve never treated me any differently, which has meant so much to me. You’ve always put me on equal ground with you and the rest of your friends, and have tolerated my fuckery since day 1, even if you do have some questionable choices in media you enjoy. The long and short of it is, you’re hella rad and hella nerdy, and I love nerding out with you. Thank you for seeing past my age and treating me just like anyone else.

@catcatamelia: chaotic Aussie lesbian says what??? Amelia you’re fucking great and so talented and so creative, and you’re so much fun to be around. I love playing shitty and good video games with you, as well as just talking and memeing back and forth and watching you draw; you’re so amazingly multitalented and interesting that I never get bored around you. I wish that we could hang out via the interwebs more, but bullshit scheduling is bullshit scheduling and whatcha gonna do. You’ve also always been there to comfort me because, like so many of my amazing friends, we share so many issues and commonalities that you always know just what to say. Thank you for never being afraid to open up and just be your wild self. Please never change.

@sea-reader: I left you for last because I have the most to say to you. Our relationship has been up and down in the almost one year we’ve known each other, and it’s mostly due to me. Since we started talking on discord, I’ve always loved listening to you talk about whatever; you always bring your own energy and passion to it, and even if it’s about stuff I don’t know a whole ton about, I’m never bored listening to you talk about it. You’re funny, and smart, and talented, and I’m so glad to have met you in the first place. You were a major factor in helping me out of my shell; there wasn’t a day that went by in the first half of this year where I didn’t mention you in some capacity to someone I knew because you’d said something hilarious or really smart or had brought some new idea I’d never thought of to the table or just done something. Was it the most healthy thing in the world? No, and looking back on it we started getting unhealthy even before The Thing That I’m Not Going To Mention In Public, but we’re continuing to grow and improve even to this day, and for that I’m forever thankful. You could have easily shut me out after that incident, but you didn’t; you gave me a second chance that I’ve rarely ever gotten, and I’m so, so glad. I know we likely won’t ever be as close as we once were, nor will we be able to talk like we once did, but that’s okay, because it doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be us, and it has to be healthy, and that’s enough for me. I love you more than I can say, just like everyone else, and I can only hope 2019 brings the best for the both of us. Thank you for being a friend, Lori, because our relationship, the good and the bad, was part of what I needed and got from all of the people I interacted with and met this year. Happy New Year, you dork.

If I missed anyone, please forgive me; it’s now 7 minutes to 2019, and I’m rushing. Tl;dr; Happy New Years, everyone. Be a little better, because you can be, even if you don’t think so.

-Geoff.

#new years 2019 #new year 2019 #new year reflection #reflection #personal tag #personal #my own posts

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blissedoutphil · 7 years ago

Text

To Live In Clover Part 6

Dan needs to escape his hell life. Anthony has a rather extraordinary offer. But what does it entail for Dan?

aka an AU where Anthony is a sugar daddy to both Dan and Phil.

oh god it’s been a month since I updated this I’m sorry. I hope this chapter is worth the wait! and thank you anons for your prompts! they fit the idea I had for this chapter perfectly :)

4713 words of Dom!Anthony, sub!phil & sub!dan, sexting, punishment, nipple play, cbt, predicament bondage

~Part 5~

~Part 7~

or read on ao3!

“Anthony said he might be home late again,” Dan announced sadly as he read the text from his dom. Anthony had been working overtime almost everyday for weeks, and their sex life has plummeted as a result.

“Seriously?! Tell him to stop being a workaholic. There’s more important things to do, like us,” Phil answered from the kitchen.

“Done,” Dan grinned and went to help out with dinner.

A few minutes later, their phones dinged.

“Too bad, Phil,” Dan read the text aloud.

Phil huffed. “Time to take matters in our own hands.”

“How?”

Phil looked thoughtful for a moment. “Take off your pants.”

Dan looked incredulous for a moment before he squinted his eyes in suspicion at Phil. “What are you planning?” he asked.

“You want Daddy to come home quicker and play with us or not?”

“Why don’t you take your pants off?”

“It’ll be more fun if you do it, trust me.”

Dan huffed out, but he found himself getting up to remove the only piece of clothing he had on anyway. Phil grinned at him and got out his phone.

“Alright, do a nice lil pose for Daddy,” Phil said cheekily, opening the camera.

“Phil...I don’t wanna get in trouble,” Dan said, unsure about Phil’s idea.

Now it was Phil’s turn to huff. “We haven’t come in like, 3 weeks. Don’t you want to do something about it?”

“First of all, stop exaggerating. It’s only been 2 weeks tops. Second...yeah of course I wanna but not if we have to be bad. We shouldn’t disobey our Dom.”

“Stop being such a goody two shoes, where’s the fun in that! What’s a lil spanking anyway? Just think about the amazing sex we’re gonna have after that! That we’ve been missing out on for weeeeks,” Phil tried his best to convince Dan, getting up and closing the space between them.

Dan mulled over Phil’s words, wondering if a punishment really is worth the sex. He supposed he could handle it, he might even enjoy the punishment since he’s been neglected this long and he was so used to having sex almost daily before the past couple of weeks. But it was the fear of disappointing his Master that was giving him doubts.

Phil sensed that Dan needed more encouragement, so he leaned forward, catching Dan’s lips between his. He pulled on Dan’s bottom lip with his teeth, hearing a small moan escape Dan. He cupped Dan’s ass, smiling into the kiss when Dan leaned into him instead of trying to pull away from the embrace.

Dan broke the kiss and groaned when he realised he’s now half hard. They weren’t allowed to help each other out, so he’d have to either take a cold shower or go through with Phil’s plan now.

“Fine,” he muttered and plopped onto the sofa, wondering what pose he should do.

Phil smirked, satisfied that his plan was going to work out. Without warning Dan, who was still trying to make himself comfortable on the sofa, he snapped a picture of his sub brother. Phil hummed approvingly of his own photography skills and sent the picture to Anthony.

“Hey! You could’ve told me you were gonna take it, did I even look good?” Dan squealed.

“Don’t worry darling, you look absolutely dashing,” Phil said dramatically and waved the phone in front of Dan to show him the picture.

Dan blushed, and noticed that his boner was on full display in the picture. He hoped Anthony wouldn’t get too angry that they were being naughty. The phone dinged and he scrambled to read the message.

“Behave, you two. Don’t be naughty and influence your brother, Phil,” Phil read the text, grinning.

Phil reached out and caressed Dan’s thigh. He took a photo, capturing his hand dangerously close to Dan’s hard cock as well as Dan’s flushed face.

Phil: but dan looks like he rly needs help, Sir!

Sir: im warning u phil, u better not misbehave. and dan just be patient, i’ll be home soon enough

Phil smiled wickedly. “Time for the finale, baby,” he announced.

Dan had no time to ask what the finale entailed because Phil’s lips were suddenly on his neck, and he moaned brokenly when Phil began sucking on his sensitive skin there. His cock twitched, but he refrained from touching himself.

“Phil, you’re making this difficult for me,” Dan whined breathlessly, “how’m i gonna control myself?”

Dan knew he should stop Phil, he knew they’ll definitely be in lots of trouble if he came. But instead, he gripped the back of Phil’s head and kept Phil in place.

Phil hummed, happy that Dan was encouraging him through his actions. After he sucked another hickey, Dan tugged Phil up and pressed an urgent kiss to his lips.

“Phil,” Dan moaned when Phil broke the kiss, and he dropped his head to Phil’s shoulder. He tried his best not to buck his hips up against Phil’s thigh, but the way Phil kneaded his ass made him hornier and more desperate.

“Your soon isn’t quick enough, Daddy,” Phil whined, voice small and childlike.

Dan lifted his head to see that Phil was recording a video, angling the phone camera to show how Dan was desperately clinging onto him, how hard and needy Dan was.

“Daddy please,” Dan begged breathlessly.

Phil stopped recording and sent the video to Anthony, smirking triumphantly. Then he turned his attention back to Dan, who was nipping at his shoulder.

“Anthony will definitely come home on time today,” Phil smiled, “now do you need help? I mean, we’re already in trouble anyway so...no difference if you come or not now right?”

Dan still wanted to be as good as he could; just because he did a small naughty thing doesn’t mean he should go all out. And honestly, he’s rather appalled at how bad his self-control had gotten. He decided to blame it on the fact that he hadn’t come in like 2 weeks.

Dan wanted to say it’s okay, really, he could just stop his boner. But Phil had begun stroking him slowly, fingers gently moving along his length, and goddamnit they’re going to be in big trouble.

The boys were so busy jerking each other off that they didn’t notice their Dom replying to their little video. They didn’t think to check their phones chucked away carelessly. They barely heard the front door slam shut, only hearing each other’s ragged breaths as they grinded against each other on the bed.

Dan had already come, and his hand was tugging Phil’s shaft expertly, knowing from Phil’s whimpering that he was close. He broke their kiss to gulp in some air, opening his eyes to look into those beautiful blue irises. But the corner of his eyes caught something odd by the door, and he glanced in that direction to see what it was.

All breath left Dan’s chest when he saw his Dom leaning against the doorframe, anger written all over his face. Like a reflex, Dan’s body moved before he could even think. He bumbled off of Phil’s body, leaving Phil confused.

“Dan wha-” Phil began, but when he saw Dan’s expression, he knew what happened. He didn’t even need to look where Dan was looking. Internally, he groaned. At least Dan had gotten off already, his own orgasm was building rapidly but now he definitely won’t get the sweet release.

But externally, he put on an innocent expression. He was prepared for whatever punishment Anthony would give, maybe even looking forward to it.

“Daddy, you’re finally home,” Phil said, voice sweet as he slowly turned to Anthony with doe eyes.

Anthony’s jaw was clenched, lips pursed in a tight line. He held Phil’s gaze with a fiery stare.

“Where did my good boys go?” Anthony’s voice was steady, but Phil could hear the hidden anger.

“We’re right here, Daddy,” Phil replied, voice small, pretending to be confused. Behind him, Dan was peeking at Anthony with big, scared eyes.

Anthony’s frown deepened as he made his way to the edge of the bed and towered above his subs.

“Dan,” Anthony’s voice boomed, and Dan cowered a little, “did you come? Without my permission?”

Dan’s mouth opened but he couldn’t find his voice to answer. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint his Dom, but there was no way to deny what he’d done. To make matters worse, his mind started playing unwelcome flashbacks of angry men in his past.

Dan squirmed a little under Anthony’s stare. He knew Anthony won’t hurt him, not like all those monsters in his past did. He honestly deserved a punishment from his Master, he wouldn’t put the blame on Phil for making him come. And he knew that lying would only make things worse. So, he swallowed down his irrational fears.

“Y-yes, Sir,” he whispered brokenly.

With that, Anthony turned his attention to Phil. “What a bad influence you are,” Anthony scolded, “you’re in for a tough night, boy.”

Phil didn’t seem bothered, but Dan didn’t want to throw his sub brother under the bus like that.

“It’s not Phil’s fault, Sir. I should’ve known better, I could’ve controlled myself but I didn’t. I’m sorry,” Dan’s voice was steady as he defended Phil and shared the blame.

Anthony crossed his arms and looked contemplative, while Phil turned around to give Dan a what are you doing? look.

“Alright then,” Anthony began after a few moments of silence, “I was about to let you off, Dan, because I know this was all Phil’s idea. But maybe you deserve to be punished too.”

“I do, Sir,” Dan answered, despite Phil shaking his head at him.

The two boys watched their Master walk over to the chest of toys with bated breath.

“Kneel up, face each other,” Anthony instructed when he returned and the boys scrambled to do as they were told.

Anthony had lots of rope with him. He first made the boys grip their elbows behind their backs and tied their forearms securely. He then waved a couple of nipple clamps in front of them, not even trying to hide his smirk when he saw the nervous looks on both subs.

The clamps were connected by a short 6 inch chain. Anthony tweaked and rubbed the boys’ nipples, getting them hard and stimulated. When they started moaning softly, he stopped and connected Dan’s right nipple to Phil’s left with the clamps, then did the same for their other side.

Dan hissed at the pain of the clamps pinching his nipples hard, and he had to shift forward closer to Phil to keep the chains slack. Anthony flicked one of the clamps on Phil, making Phil groan. He then stepped back to observe his boys. They were kneeling so close to each other to make sure the chains won’t go taut. That won’t do. He wanted to make sure the chains were as taut as they could get, have the clamps pull on their nipples as hard as possible without falling off.

Anthony lubed his finger and slid it past Dan’s rim without much warning. Dan moaned slightly at the intrusion. Anthony didn’t bother to add another finger to stretch him properly, it was a punishment after all.

After hooking his finger and thrusting for a bit, Anthony removed his finger. He spread Dan’s ass cheeks with one hand, and with the other he slowly pushed an anal hook into Dan’s tight ass.

Dan jerked slightly when he felt the cool metal intrude him. When the hook was secure inside him, Anthony made a knot with rope on the end of the hook and tied the other end of the rope to the hoop at the top of the bed(**) right above the headboard. The rope was far too short to have even a little slack, and Dan found himself in a rather awkward position where his chest was still close to Phil to keep the chains loose, while his ass stuck out to reduce the tension on the rope connecting to the anal hook as much as he could.

Phil bit back a moan when Anthony started fingering him; he wasn’t supposed to be enjoying his punishment. Anthony had left him in predicament bondage before, but now with another person, he felt like it’s on a whole other level. He hoped they could take the strain that he was sure they’d soon feel.

And soon enough, Phil found himself in the same position as Dan, chest leaned forward and ass stuck out. If he moved forward to reduce the tension on the chain, the hook would dig deeper into his ass, but if he moved backward to relax the rope, the clamps would tug painfully on his nipples. It’s even worse than being in predicament bondage alone since his every move would affect Dan, and if Dan moves, he’ll be in pain too. If either of them wanted to relax, it’ll be at the other’s expense.

He looked at Dan, seeing the younger boy’s face scrunch up in concentration to stay still. They both have leaned forward as much as they could without getting themselves hooked deeper or losing balance, but the chains on their nipples and the ropes from their hooks have gone fully taut.

Anthony stepped back to admire his work. Phil shuffled a little and groaned when the hook in his ass grazed his prostate.

“Should I tie your balls to the bedposts too for good measure?” Anthony asked, and he chuckled when the boys frantically shook their heads.

He walked over and started stroking both his boys’ dicks. Phil moaned gratefully, he was still hard. Dan jerked a little, cursing in his mind as the clamps tugged on his nipples. In turn, it tugged on Phil’s as well, making him groan. He stroked them both to full hardness, until they were panting and breathing heavily.

“Almost forgot,” Anthony said, a smirk playing on his lips. He got out two ball weights from his pocket.

He hooked one weight onto each chain, delighted by the boys’ whimpers. “Don’t drop them,” he warned.

The weights swayed about, moving the chain and causing the clamps to tug the boys’ nipples down. Anthony tapped on the ropes tied to both their anal hooks. Like a butterfly effect, they both jerked backwards and caused the chains to go fully taut, tugging on their nipples painfully. They groaned and whimpered pitifully.

“Such naughty, horny boys...getting so hard even though it’s a punishment,” Anthony tutted. He smacked Phil’s cock at the last word and Phil jerked in surprise, in turn pulling on Dan’s nipples again.

“Well...good thing you have each other huh? You don’t need me. Guess I’ll leave you two to help each other get off again,” Anthony shrugged and left the room.

The moment Phil was sure Anthony was out of earshot, he whispered, “What was that for?”

“What was what for?”

“You could’ve gone without a punishment but you had to open your mouth and be such a good boy.”

“I couldn’t just let you take all the blame, I was in the wrong too. It’s not all your fault,” Dan said, trying to be as still as possible so the weights on the chains wouldn’t move.

“How long do you think he’ll leave us here?” Dan asked when Phil didn’t continue the conversation.

“Dunno...it always depended on how bad I’ve been and how pissed I made him,” Phil mumbled.

Dan whimpered, noticing that even breathing, a movement so small on his chest, can cause the chains to go rigid and the clamps to bite down harder on his nubs.

Phil moved forward, letting the chains go a little lax. The hook sunk deeper in his ass, but he was suddenly consumed by guilt for getting Dan into this mess, so the least he could do was help Dan suffer less.

Dan looked up at Phil questioningly, but he didn’t object. He gave a small smile as a form of thanks, and they stayed in silence that way for a bit.

“My turn,” Dan spoke up after a few minutes and leaned forward, biting back a groan as the hook forced his ass to stay in position.

“No, I’ll take it,” Phil replied, refusing to relax.

“It’s okay Phil, you should relax now and let me,” Dan insisted.

Phil let out a little wrecked noise, hanging his head in defeat. “Why are you so nice,” he mumbled, almost inaudible.

Dan was honestly a little worried by Phil’s sudden distress.

“I don’t want you to strain yourself so much, I can take it too,” Dan reassured him.

Phil looked up and Dan was surprised to see a tear rolling down Phil’s cheek.

“How are you not mad at me? First you’re sharing my punishment, and now you want to help me,” Phil sounded sad and confused, and if Dan wasn’t immobilised he’d hug Phil in a heartbeat.

“If I were you I’d be so pissed at me right now,” Phil admitted softly, “Would’ve pushed all the blame, would’ve taken the first chance at escaping punishment. I’d hate me.”

“Well,” Dan began, “I want to be here for you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to deal with the consequences alone since we both broke the rules. And I don’t hate you, I deserve this as much as you do.”

“But it was my idea...I’m sorry I dragged you into this, I shouldn’t have done that in the first place,” Phil bit his lip guiltily.

“Sure this isn’t the spanking you said it’d be,” Dan chuckled a little, “but you’re forgiven, okay? Don’t worry, I’m not mad at all. I just really wanna make it up to Anthony now. I can’t stand being the reason he’s upset.”

“You’re a much better sub than me; I’m always a brat to him. Anthony deserves you and not me,” more tears were slipping down Phil’s face and Dan’s heart wrenched hearing Phil.

When Dan first moved in, he’d feared that Phil wouldn’t like him because he now had to share his boyfriend. But over the months, he’d seen how Phil cared for him as much as he cared for Anthony. He’d learned how Phil was such a confident boy, fully enjoying the idea of having two boyfriends. Unlike Dan himself, who sometimes had irrational thoughts on how they might dislike him for randomly invading their life.

He looked up to Phil, despite Phil’s playfulness that sometimes got him into trouble with their Dom. He wouldn’t call it being bratty, plus Phil’s right when he says there’d be no fun at all in being perfectly obedient all the time without any playfulness in a relationship like theirs.

So he never once thought that Phil could be insecure. That Phil would even think Dan was better than him, or that Anthony would prefer Dan over him.

“No don’t say that, Phil. You’re a brilliant sub for Anthony! I lack in what you’re good at. You’re an amazing cook, you bother to do the chores. I’m too lazy for all that. Anthony needs you. And I bet he’d be bored with a goody two shoes like me. He needs a cheeky sub like you,” Dan said, happy when Phil smiled softly at his last statement.

“And he doesn’t only need us, he wants us. Okay? Us. He doesn’t favour me over you, he doesn’t deserve me more than you. So quit crying, you spoon, and help me remind him how much he loves us, show him what he’s been missing out on,” Dan continued and Phil blinked his stray tears away as he laughed hearing what Dan called him.

Phil finally leaned back and whispered a quiet thank you, only then realising how his ass was in pain from the strain.

Dan was so busy helping to reassure Phil that he forgot about the pain. His hook had sunk in deeper, and now that his mini speech was over, he was suddenly all too aware of the uncomfortable sensation in his ass. Not to mention how sensitive his nipples were caught in the clamps. But he didn’t move. Phil had let him relax, and now he was going to return the favour.

So there they remained for the next half hour, taking turns to feel the strain while the other rests. Both of them had sweat sheening their bodies. Despite the mini breakdown, Phil’s cock was leaking precum. He was always a painslut.

Dan was only half hard, getting tired from keeping his muscles tense as he stayed still in position. If not for the hook occasionally brushing his prostate, he was sure he’d be soft. He tried to shift his focus away from the sharp pain on his nipples and in his ass, but it only made him aware of the dull ache in his knees, the pins and needles in his arms. But he didn’t regret asking for the punishment. Besides needing to be there for Phil, he also needed the punishment for himself. He needed to feel forgiven by Anthony.

A little over a half hour later, Anthony appeared by the door again. Neither of the boys dared to look at their Dom as he slowly walked up to them. Dan’s chest heaved a little as his heart began beating rapidly, causing the weights to sway. Anthony merely stood by the bed silently, observing his boys as they grew anxious under his gaze.

“Dan,” Anthony suddenly spoke up, making the boys jump a little, “your sub brother got you off, isn’t it a little rude not to return the favour?”

Dan bit his lip, unsure of how to answer, and Anthony smacked Phil’s hard cock. Phil jerked back and Dan sunk his teeth into his lip even more to stop himself from groaning as the clamps tugged harshly on his sore nipples.

“S-sorry, Sir,” Phil stuttered, knowing full well that Anthony doesn’t like his subs being hard when he punishes them; punishments aren’t meant to be enjoyed.

Dan watched with wide eyes as Anthony continued hitting Phil’s reddened cock. Phil tried his best to stay still, he didn’t want to jerk against the chains and cause Dan any more pain. Phil’s groans were soft, and as precum leaked from his cock, Dan knew that Phil couldn’t get soft even if he tried. He only gets hornier the more torture his cock receives. Anthony obviously knew this, and he probably wanted to make it difficult for Phil.

“Because you were naughty, I had to leave work early,” Anthony stated, removing the weights on the chains. The clamps immediately felt lighter on the boys’ nipples, and Dan gave a small sigh of relief.

“And because of that, I’ll have to stay in the office even longer for the next few days,” he continued angrily. He yanked the clamp off one of Phil’s nipples, causing Phil to yell out in pain as blood rushed to his sore nub. Anthony pressed and rubbed the aching nipple, making Phil groan loudly.

Dan whimpered as the clamp tugged his nipple down with the chain swinging around. His own nipples had gone numb and he feared the moment Anthony would take his clamps off. Phil’s reactions certainly weren’t helping.

“But of course,” Anthony paused to let Phil thrash around as he freed his other nipple, “I can’t let this happen again when I’m in the office.”

Phil looked down to see his erect nipples red and sore, and his abused cock an equal shade. He panted, hoping that at least the worst was over. He shuffled back to reduce the tension in the rope connected to his hook.

“I don’t know if I can trust that you boys won’t disobey me when you’re alone again,” Anthony said disappointedly, and it broke Dan’s heart.

“We’re really sorry, Sir, we promise not to do it again. You can trust us,” Dan spoke urgently, making sure to include Phil in the apology.

Anthony looked Dan in the eyes, and Dan confidently held the gaze until his clamp was roughly tugged off. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain, unable to hold back the scream that ripped from his lungs. The pain grew as Anthony rubbed the blood flow back into the abused nub.

“You’ll have to earn my trust back,” Anthony stated, face emotionless as he waited for Dan to calm down.

Dan tried to calm his breathing, but it was hard when he knew the pain was going to be repeated when Anthony inevitably removes the other clamp. Despite anticipating it, he still couldn’t help but scream again when his other nipple was finally free. He blinked back tears and groaned when Anthony pressed on his erect nubs.

Dan looked up when he heard Phil sniffling. He followed Phil’s line of sight to Anthony’s hands holding out a couple of cock cages.

“P-please Sir, punish me but not Dan. He tried talking me out of being naughty but I dragged him into it. I’m so sorry and I deserve to be punished more, but Dan doesn’t,” Phil sobbed.

Anthony softly carded his hand through Phil’s sweaty hair to calm him down, but Phil continued.

“I’m sorry I’m such a bad sub you don’t deserve, you deserve a good one like Dan.”

“Phil,” Dan said in a mix of surprise and disbelief, saddened that Phil still harboured those thoughts despite his efforts to reassure him earlier.

“Phil,” Anthony echoed, “you’re a very good sub for me, okay? Everybody makes mistakes and I don’t expect you to be perfect. And you know that every action will have consequences, you need to take responsibility for your misbehaviour. Even though it was your idea, Dan still misbehaved too. I discipline you boys when you need it. I still love you both equally, I won’t prefer one of you to the other. And I’m proud of you for taking your punishment well so far.”

Anthony had moved to hug Phil while speaking, and Phil rested his head on Anthony’s shoulder, wetting it with his tears. When Phil had calmed down a little, Anthony pulled back. He moved behind Phil and slowly pulled the hook out of Phil’s ass, making Phil moan quietly.

Anthony did the same for Dan, and Dan moaned gratefully. When he was done, he moved back in between his subs and silently held out the cock cages again.

“I want to earn your trust back, Sir, please cage me,” Phil said earnestly. His boner had reduced during his breakdown, making it a little easier for Anthony to slip the cage on.

Phil smiled gratefully once his cage was on, he knew that he needed Anthony’s disciplining. He understood why Dan insisted to be punished, because just like Dan, he also needed it to get rid of the guilt of misbehaving and disobeying his Dom and feel forgiven.

“Until I don’t have to work overtime anymore, so 3 or 4 days, we’ll see,” Anthony told Phil who nodded firmly. He’d gladly wear it for as long as Anthony deemed fit.

Then, Anthony turned to Dan and locked his cage on as well. “Two days. Just to learn to improve your self-control.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Dan replied, genuinely thankful for Anthony’s discipline.

Finally, Anthony untied his boys’ arms. He hugged them, and the boys snuggled into his warm embrace. He kissed the top of Phil’s head.

“I love you both, no matter how naughty you may be,” he chuckled as he held his boys tight.

“We love you too,” Dan answered softly, and Phil nodded.

“And we’re very sorry,” Phil added.

“I know you are, I’m glad you took your punishment well,” Anthony said as he booped Phil’s nose and ruffled Dan’s hair.

They’d have to wait even longer to finally have sex now, but Dan and Phil didn’t mind. Because the rest of the night was spent receiving the attention and care from Anthony that they’ve also been missing.

After a nice warm bath - Dan’s still impressed by how it could fit all of them in - they had dinner then a good cuddle in bed, where Dan giggled at Phil and Anthony joking around. Like everything was back to normal.

fun fact I originally wanted their balls tied to the bedposts but then anon suggested anal hooks and that’s way better so thank u anon xo

~Part 5~

~Part 7~

#Phanfic #phan #phan smut #phanthony #phan fic #phansmut #to live in clover #my fic

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rotationalsymmetry · 4 years ago

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One thing I’ve noticed having been on here a lot during idk the past year maybe? A significant number of people who spend a lot of time on here (tumblr) feel conflicted about it or are pretty sure they should spend less time on here. Or on social media/the internet in general.

(I’m one of them. I can see some positive things about being on here of course, but it can get out of hand pretty fast. Like kudzu.) So, some thoughts on that.

Absolutes and hard-line rules (like “only between the hours of x and y”) work for some people some of the time. Personally every so often, I’ll delete the app on my phone, and even if I let myself go on tumblr on my laptop (or going on tumblr on my phone through a web browser rather than through the app) I still end up using it a lot less. If you think strict rules for yourself or apps that restrict your access to certain apps/sites at certain times will help, it’s a thing you can try. If you really want to go hard core, once we get libraries and internet cafes open again you might be able to set things up so that you don’t have internet at home -- if you want to go that route. You can also shut down electronic devices, put them in inconvenient locations, etc for certain periods of time, or if you need your phone on hand find ways to delete or otherwise limit access to certain apps.

Sometimes gentle guildlines, rules of thumb, and cutting yourself a lot of slack work better and sometimes they don’t; if you’re not sure, you can try one approach for a while, see how it’s going for you, then try a different approach. Figuring out how to quantify results, both objective stuff like productiviity and hours of screen time and subjective stuff like your mood, will give you something to work with. (This is a project: it’ll take time and there will be false starts and experiments that don’t work. That’s OK and part of the process.)

Self-forgiveness: shame/guilt can backfire really badly. If you’re using tumblr in part as numbing/distraction (and especially if you tend to get attached to content that gets you really angry or in red-alert mode...that may be a sign you’re trying to distract yourself from something) then beating yourself up for that will only make you more inclined to do numbing/distracting behavior. And the internet probably isn’t the only way you know to numb/distract. But working on giving yourself positive offline experiences might help. Practicing gratitude, scheduling off-line activities you enjoy and/or find meaning in, getting outside or at least hanging out near a window or in an indoor space you don’t usually spend time in, etc.

Accountability: additionally, guilt/shame tends to not just go away by wanting it to go away, you need to give yourself something to do instead. If you can identify one or a few things you can do with relatively little activation energy/executive function when you notice you’ve been stuck online for a while and are feeling bad about it, that you believe will help you stay off for a while and not get sucked in so easily next time, that can give you an alternative to mentally yelling at yourself. In particular, I’ve found when I procrastinate on things I have to get done via internet, I can’t always easily shift into getting things done mode, but getting outside does clear my head and makes me more functional when I get back. (Maybe eating something or lying down for a bit will work better for you, or you need something more physically intense like push-ups.)

In general, for me focusing on what I want to be doing works way better than focusing on what I want to be doing less of.

Five-second rule: you count down from five to one in your head, and then move. For instance, closing your laptop/putting down your phone and standing up. I don’t know why this works, but it does. (As in, it works pretty consistently for me when I remember to do it, under circumstances where telling myself “just get up” etc just results in me continuing what I’m doing for who knows how long.) There’s an entire book on it if you want more info. (Might be more helpful for people who are neuroatypical in some way? I’m not sure.) Easier to put into practice if you have some way of reminding yourself when you need it most, or if you set aside time to practice so that it becomes automatic.

Outside support: getting another person to check in with you every so often, having a study partner or group if you’re in school, having a work-from-home buddy, asking your boss for more direct supervision, any formal or informal set-up where someone else will notice if you don’t do what you said you were going to do. Or anything where you have someone else physically or virtually present to help keep you on track.

Knowing your next step: especially sometimes people procrastinate on big, scary things when they don’t know how to get started, this is fixable by breaking down the task into individual steps

Feelings suck: anything that helps you face your feelings is going to make you less dependent on using social media for numbing or distraction. CBT techniques etc. Also: physical exercise is supposed to be ridiculously helpful for emotional self-regulation. (And therapy.)

Loneliness: this one is trickier, especially while the pandemic is still going on...but when possible putting extra effort in to finding and maintaining offline relationships (casual acquaintanceships, friendships, romance, family connections, found family, qpr’s, etc) is going to in the long run make you less dependent on social media for human interaction, even if it doesn’t feel better in the short run. (Which is not to say that people with strong social networks don’t use social media...but definitely for myself, I spent way less time on social media before my cfs wrecked my social life, and I especially started spending way more time on social media after moving away from my friend groups. So presumably it goes in reverse as well, and stronger social ties make it easier to maintain a moderate and restrained social media presence, as opposed to a kudzu social media presence.) (Even if you think you want very close one-on-one friendships or relationships, having a lot of consistent positive interactions with acquaintances actually feels really good -- meetup groups and hobby/activity groups and religious orgs and art/theater/music stuff and regular volunteering and I guess sports? can be great for that.)

Willpower/self-discipline is a myth, habits are real. Don’t get worked up about whether you “should” be able to just choose to be on social media less often, figure out what life hacks let you be on social media less often, without making it a battle of will each time.

Finally... a lot of what makes people more vulnerable to having certain activities go kudzu, is not under your personal control. It’s how society’s structured or it’s your genes or who knows, right? If you’re having to do a course-correct on your life because you don’t like how it’s going, that’s normal. Needing to do a course-correct doesn’t make you bad, but being able to do it makes you strong or resourceful or something like that. It’s worth being proud of.

#the tumblr experience #self improvement #I hope this helps?#comparing social media to invasive plants #mental health #emotional management #coping strategies #how to cut back on screen time #how to cut back on internet time #how to cut back on social media time #long post #life advice #compassion #getting things done #I have the weirdest freaking tags

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