#the pain of relief

[furiousgoldfish]

Do you ever experience stress so long term, that when it gets released, you struggle to function without it?

Your body is washed with relief but it's so intense it actually hurts; you can't breathe, your limbs go limp, you can't force yourself to do anything anymore, you need to lie down, you can't get up, and you can't focus. It's almost like you go from stress right to grief, there is no time for joy, the waves that hit make you feel that you were suffering for so long, that it was so awful it forced your body on edge for weeks or months, you can finally acknowledge how bad it was, now that you survived it. The release of suffering is so painful it makes an actual negative impact.

[shroomwar]

Obsessed with the way Vicodin is such a huge piece of symbolism in House’s relationships. Like. Cuddy left him because he relapsed. She told him that he took the Vicodin to avoid pain, because pain means you care and he wasn’t willing to do that. We’ve seen throughout the show how House’s emotional pain manifests as physical, increasing whenever he feels guilt or anger or sadness or fear. Keep in mind this was while Cuddy was worried she might have cancer.

And then Wilson ACTUALLY gets cancer, and House treats him at his apartment, and he feeds him Vicodin. Because Wilson is in pain, and he’s always the one who cares so much, and it’s House’s turn to take that away. And House doesn’t take any Vicodin. He feels the pain so Wilson’s is lessened, because he CARES. They make a point to show that he is willing to care, willing to take on that burden for him.

House will do anything to stop the pain, unless it makes Wilson suffer.

[shotmrmiller]

size difference where the one afraid to fuck you is simon. he thinks you soft. which is what you are. soft. fragile. small.

you're not like him. nothing like the guys. battle-scarred. muscles carved by relentless missions, scars that speak of duty.

your skin divots under his fingers, yielding to his weathered touch and if he squeezes hard enough, you'll have marks by morning. (he needs to be careful, he can't hurt you, won't—)

and so simon watches you touch yourself in the beginning, clever fingers swirling over your slippery clit with practiced movements even though his cock is straining against his trousers painfully. he can hear you mewl his name through bitten lips and it takes all of his self control to not tug his jeans off, slot himself between your spread, inviting thighs and push— stretch open your fluttering walls, so hot and slick, until he meets resistance, until he can push no more but—

he can't. you'd hurt. and he'd hurt because he hurt you. he won't.

after, when your eyes are heavy lidded, mouth slightly parted in exertion, you remind him that you aren't made of glass. that you won't break. you'll shatter— in the way you do when his tongue replaces your fingers— but not break.

"not a virgin either, for christ's sake," you groan.

maybe he's thinking too hard about it. he knows your teeth have edges, knows your bite is swift when deserved. but all he's truly good at is making things give. biology made it so with his bulky frame and raw mass.

his eyes trace the contour of your collarbone. delicate. then it darts to the pulse on your wrist. vital. his hands, the size of dinner plates don't coax. they demand. he'd snap you like a twig, leaving nothing but splintered remains in his wake.

you don't seem to mind, however. it slightly alarms him. where's your self-preservation? do you enjoy pain? is this some masochistic thing?

he looks at you, all glassy eyed and dewy skinned (ethereal; you're practically glowing under the soft light of the full moon that paints the room silver) and he thinks of how it's going to take work to make it work. his cock is large (he's seen the guys' eyes pop out of their heads in the showers once they caught a glimpse of what's between his legs) but you're persistent in the end. one too many nights of having him without having him.

he understands. simon knows better than most what it's like to yearn. to want and not have. he'd cause you pain by not giving in, and cause pain by giving in. damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.

so he caves. promises to go slow. careful.

"i can take it," you bravely say but he's barely pressing himself to your entrance and you're already making noises that tug at his pathetic little heart. the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip-- you look so pretty, how'd a twisted creature like him get someone like you to come home to-- as his cock fills you has him feeling lightheaded. it takes every ounce of self control to not sink into your heat, to hook your legs around his thick waist and let gravity do the rest.

an unsteady hand weaves its way down to your stuffed cunt, fingers splitting into a vee, feeling how he splits your puffy lips, and the view makes him buck his hips involuntarily.

his hands tighten around your calves when you keen, a high pitched noise that swells the lust he feels burning white hot at the base of his spine, tips of his fingers, deep within his loins. he feels ready to burst.

and he's only halfway in.

your voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. "m-more, simon, c'mon," the n is low and drawn out.

his fingers bite into your flesh as he pushes slow, oh so slowly, until your vise-like cunt envelops him completely. the sibilant hiss you let out makes his hair stand on end. (shame pricks at his nerves like a thousand tiny needles when his cock twitches at the sound of your slightly pained moans)

simon doesn't move, feeling your swollen walls around his cock ripple, tighten and slacken, like it's got a pulse of its own. he could be here, in you, cock deep in paradise for the rest of time.

"fuck me," you warble out, hand rubbing your swollen clit to well up the pleasure that's being smothered by the searing pang of discomfort.

when simon cants his hips back, he watches his cock come out of you, glistening with slick. his jaw aches from how hard he's clenching it. control. got to keep it slow, gentle. slow, simon, slow, slow--

"harder."

he feels the sudden sharp sting of your nails and jerks forward in surprise, filling you completely in one fast movement.

your moan this time is needy, thick with want, arousal dripping from your voice as it does your pussy, coating him in creamy white, a frothy ring at the root.

simon can see the barest of bumps below your navel, or maybe he's seeing things, your hot cunt putting him in a state of delirium but the way you take all of his cock and continue to beg for more, beg him to fuck you like he means it even though he's twice if not thrice your size well...

you'll just have to forgive him on the finger-shaped bruises they're going to be on your body after.

(you'd looked so cheeky before he flipped you onto your knees, grabbing onto your delicate neck like a lifeline as he pulled your hips to meet his. you'd taken him easier here, cunt sodden with slick but the angle had him reaching a devastating depth no one else could ever dream of reaching and even though it'd sprung tears to the corners of your eyes at the pinch, "mama ain't raise no bitch.")

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[thebibliosphere]

So in not great news, I’ve developed a trauma response to my migraines.

I just had a faint niggle of pain on the right side of my head—likely caused by my neck muscles being jacked up from yesterday’s migraine and the hours upon hours of throwing up—and while my original response to potentially getting a migraine was weary resignation, I just had what can only be accurately described as a panic attack.

Like full on, couldn’t breathe past my terror, vision tunneling in a way I haven’t experienced since [redacted trauma], ‘it feels like I’m having a heart attack’ panic.

Which is not… not great to begin with but it’s really not good when you have a mast cell disorder where stress can be an anaphylactic trigger, which it is for me, which is why I’ve spent the last for years trying to regulate my nervous system and get a handle on my complex trauma.

Only now, due to the severe amounts of pain I’m in every ten days or fewer, I’m experiencing total emotional dysregulation from the mere thought of having another migraine.

And now I have a headache from the panic attack because it triggered my POTS and now my blood pressure is fucked 🫠

I legitimately cannot do this anymore. This is going to kill me.

[gardenofnoah]

“you’re going to hurt yourself like that, my love.”

you startle at the voice over you, having been nearly asleep.

“—uh?”

you turn your head to see Nanami looming over your side of the bed. if you were fully conscious, you would see the tiny look of mischief in his eyes as they roam your body, but you’re not, so you take it as his tendency to mother hen you.

and then he’s pushing you to the middle of the bed despite your whining, climbing in beside you. you try to settle in and find you’re still being moved—he’s on his back, shuffling himself down the bed and pulling one of your legs over his chest. you feel him turn his face into your belly in a move that feels suspiciously like nuzzling.

“what’re y’doin,” you slur, a little petulant at being woken up like this, despite it being well past the time you meant to rejoin the living and despite your own desire to seek out the warmth he’s emitting next to you.

“you’re going to hurt your hip, laying like that,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. he runs a hand up the back of your thigh and over your hip, and you sigh a little bit, comforted by the feeling of him.

“i don’t know how you sleep like that,” he continues, absentmindedly dragging his fingers over your skin, making you shiver every now and then.

“feels good,” you grumble, face shoved into the pillow. talking about your bizarre sleeping position and maybe also the way the rough pads of his fingers leave a trail of warmth in their wake. you think you hear him chuckle softly, and you feel him press a kiss to the skin of your belly, right above the hem of your sleep shorts.

it’s soft, chaste—and then it’s not, and you suck in a breath when you feel him kiss you there again, feeling the tip of his tongue drag along the skin that stretches over your hip bone.

and evidently he hears your sharp inhale, because you feel a strong arm sneak around your lower back, pulling you closer to him.

“was still sleeping, you know,” but it’s lost all of its bite and you’re a little breathless now, fixated on the way his free hand slides up the back of your thigh to brush over the sensitive spot just under the curve of your ass.

“go to sleep then,” he says into the soft of your belly, pressing another kiss, opening his mouth a little wider to catch the skin of it between his teeth. he’s turned into you now, and despite yourself, you drag your leg up from his chest so it’s over his shoulder.

he moves to rest his head against your thigh that’s trapped underneath him, and distantly you think that it is more comfortable like this— his head squeezed between your legs having alleviated some of the pressure against your hip from laying on your side. that thought quickly becomes muddled in your head when you feel him latch on to the skin of your inner thigh that rests against his face.

you whine, hips bucking weakly as you squirm under tongue and teeth—both leaning into and trying to get away from the sting of his bite.

“my sweet love,” he coos, running his tongue over the fresh bruise, placating you. you shiver, pressing your face further into the pillow to try to breathe—to ground yourself despite the heat that curls up your spine. he stops, then, and you peak down at him to find that he’s staring back up at you.

“hi,” you whisper, fighting another shudder at the way his lips pull at the corners into a smirk that looks absolutely sinful on him.

“good morning,” he drawls, deep and far too awake. he rests his chin in the space between your hips, pressing a quick kiss above your pubic bone. your hips buck toward him a tiny bit, and his smirk widens when he feels it.

you bring a hand down to run it through his hair, tangling in the blond strands and scratching at his scalp. he closes his eyes and hums, deep in his chest, nuzzling into your thigh. it makes you smile, and it makes you ache.

“want you, ken,” you murmur, squeezing him gently between your thighs and reveling in the groan he lets out.

“i know, sweetheart,” he coos, hands coming up again to grope whatever skin he can reach and pressing a tiny kiss through your shorts, “i can smell you.”

[leonardcohenofficial]

love having chronic pain 🙃

[piss-stained-jorts]

BABYGIRL YOUR SMILE GIV ES ME LIFE I LOVE YOU

[s0fter-sin]

something happening on a mission, something personal that has soap spiralling; panic and rage making him reckless, thoughtless, and ghost has to draw the line

“you’re compromised johnny; you know what that means?”

“you’re not pulling me out,” soap immediately snarls. he turns on him and ghost barely recognises him; venomous fear turning his eyes to unyielding ice. "you're not sidelining me; i need to be in this-!"

but ghost has never been afraid of venom; spat or dripped straight from bared fangs.

he snakes out a hand grip the back of his neck, jerking him in a rough shake. "if you can't think, you can't be a soldier," he growls and he flinches like he's been struck.

his lips quiver as they twist in a sneer and he wrenches, trying to free himself of his hold.

ghost doesn't let him.

"it means you give your body to me because your head ain't fucking attached to it anymore."

soap stills, body trembling beneath his hand as he sucks in shaking breaths.

he tightens his grip, pulling him closer and digs his forehead hard into his. “it means you give yourself to me so i can have the weapon that you are and use you the way you're meant to be used."

the ice in soap's eyes fractures.

ghost’s voice drops to a whisper, spoken only to johnny, not this facade of vengeance and pain, and wills it to reach him through the glaciers.

“so i can keep you safe ‘til it’s done and i can bring you back.”

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Purse Essentials For Day & Night (or Any Activity In Between)

Daytime Handbag Essentials:

Keys

Wallet/cardholder (ID[s], credit/debit cards, spare cash – enough for an emergency cab/train ticket, a bottle of water, and a cheap snack plus a little extra is my formula)

Phone/phone charger

Airpods/headphones

Mini sunscreen

Hand lotion

Floss picks in a travel floss dispenser

Mini disposable toothbrushes

Breath mints

Portable stain remover wipes

Hand sanitizer

Lip balm/your everyday lip color

Eyeliner

Brow pencil

Power foundation

Contour/blush stick

Oil blotting sheets

Roll-on perfume

Hair ties

Foldable mini hair brush

Feminine hygiene wipes

Panty liners/pads/tampons

Travel case bandaids

Condoms (not in a wallet, please)

A pen or two

Portable sticky notes

Travel pack of tissues

Spare glasses/contacts & contact solution

Sunglasses

OTC pain relief medicine

Water bottle

Non-perishable snacks (I recommend Larabars, Lupini beans/roasted chickpeas/edamame, roasted nuts/trail mix snack packs, Lupii/Raw Rev vegan protein bars, and freeze-dried fruit)

Nighttime Handbag Essentials:

Keys

Wallet/cardholder (ID[s], credit/debit cards, spare cash – enough for an emergency cab/train ticket, a bottle of water, and a cheap snack plus a little extra is my formula)

Phone/portable phone charger

Mini sunscreen

Hand lotion

Floss picks in a travel floss dispenser

Mini disposable toothbrushes

Breath mints

Portable stain remover wipes

Hand sanitizer

Lip balm/your everyday lip color

Eyeliner

Brow pencil

Mini power foundation

Roll-on perfume

Hair ties

Foldable mini hair brush

Feminine hygiene wipes

Panty liner (and maybe a pad/tampon, depending on the time of the month)

Portable makeup remover wipe (or two)

Portable cleansing towelette (or two)

Travel case bandaids

Condoms (at least two – not in a wallet, please)

Disposable foot socks

OTC pain relief medicine

Vitamin B-complex, Vitamin C, and Vitamin D supplement (one of each – for after or the morning after drinking)

Necessary Edit: This list is meant to be a comprehensive guide, designed to be personalized. If you don't think you need some of these items, [pick and choose at your discretion].

[blu3berrydraws]

drew this little guy as a reminder to myself~

[ganondoodle]

today i give you .. yet another wip for totk rewritten (botw2 edition) concepts, tomorrow? who knows :)

corrupted/dark satori boss? still unsure if it should be corrupted satori or a dark counterpart for satori that got out of control ..... or a merger of the two which resulted in it going nuts

wanting to make interesting places in botw into ... interesting places in botw2 (instead of .. nothing .. or a chest with a useless reward that feels more like a cruel joke at the expense of you having cared about it in the first place- )

so the satori mountain has been damaged by the cataclysm, splitting part of it up right at his lake, which now pours down into the underground (since the underground is much smaller and unique and every entrance is much more hidden now) hinting at you being able to go down there, theres small and narrow caves of broken things and traces of satori, until you reach it and it breaks through to the surface leading to a horseback chase (very much inspired by some of the bossfights in 'the pathless')

at the end it splits them back into two (going by the merger idea) and both satori from the surface and its dark counterpart are now friendly and return to their realm (im wanting to give them both another purpose after this but i still need to think of one, perhaps freeing rumis (the lil rabbit ones) for satori and collecting souls for the dark one in the underground- each being limited collectables with rewards like armor sets or access to special challenges- instead of just being a currency to pick up lol)

(legend of zelda)

[creekfiend]

I used to get an arguments on facebook and it bit me in the ass enormously because it turns out that when you get an arguments on facebook habitually, you'll be interacting with a lot of other people who get an arguments on facebook habitually, and most of these people are deeply unpleasant and they will be super mean to you in really fucked up ways. so for a couple of years I just sort of dropped off ever interacting with anyone who said things that I did not agree with. I would just scroll past stuff or I would get upset about it privately and move on. I did not ever engage. and the last couple of weeks I've started being able to say things in response to things I don't agree with in ways that I feel lay out what my perspective is but do not get overly invested in "winning" or "proving" anything -- I will say my piece generally for the benefit of other people who might be reading the conversation and need to hear what I have to say. and then I will turn notifications off and go do something else.

anyway. wow. y'all heard about this? pretty cool shit.

[justplaggin]

bsd volume 25 - table of contents