#train services disruption
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Tragic Collision: Coromandel Express and Goods Train Crash in Odisha, Raising Concerns of Casualties
Train in crash Odisha: Witness the heart-wrenching collision between the Coromandel Express and a goods train in Odisha, resulting in casualties and raising critical safety questions. Explore the aftermath of the tragic incident, the ongoing rescue efforts, and the government’s response. Discover the impact on train services, the compensation announced, and the call for a thorough investigation.…
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#compensation#Coromandel Express#goods train#government response#investigation#Odisha#passenger protection measures#railway safety#rescue efforts#train collision#train services disruption
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me and the bipolar girl i found at the 7 eleven at 3am
#busy glasgow train line to close in weeks as scotrail services face major disruption#scott pilgrim#paul mccartney
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One of things I try to be really cognizant of when doing public access training with Forte is confidence. And more specifically not becoming suspicious in already stimulating environments. It's something I knew I would need to include in my training plans due to his breed and the nature of some of his tasks.
Forte is very friendly for a Belgian but he's also still a Belgian and a teenaged one at that. So a staple of our training is playing look at that look at me games and just learning to chill in various environments.
I'd say Forte is about 75% confident at the mall at this point. He doesn't pull when we are walking but does sometimes drift little farther ahead of me than I'd prefer. And when we stop he does have a tendency to people watch. He doesn't hard stare at people but I feel like it could become that without mindful training.
My own feelings about the mega mall aside, I do actually like it as a place to train for us. It's busy with all kinds of people, there are lots of novel noises, several arcade type places, etc. It also has a lot of large alcoves with seating and only one or two store fronts. So we can have distance from the main thoroughfare while still being able to experience the mall.
Lately I've been using an alcove that faces the elevator banks. We're well out of anyone's way and have plenty of room to play/practice basic obedience. Then we sit and Forte is allowed to take in the environment while being rewarded for settling and checking in with me.
It usually takes him about 10 minutes to go from being in a down to being actually settled. Once he's actually settled I'll do maybe two to three minutes of task training behavior interruptions, then we leave. I'm trying not to have him do any crowd control tasks in the mall yet. Because I don't want to accidentally tip him from observant to suspicious.
He does crowd control in the form of blocking just fine at the grocery store and smaller shops. But I want him more at ease in the mall before I add that into the mix.
Anyway I'm so proud of him, slowly but surely we are coming along.
#dogblr#forte#belgian tervuren#service dog in training#sdit#service dog#public access training#he's in front of a wall with a poster in case anyone was curious#not a real carousel#slow is fast#i am hyper aware of Forte's body language#so I'm constantly fine tuning our training to make sure I'm giving him opportunities to have fun and process the environment#technically i could claim him as a fully trained service dog#he knows and reliably performs tasks that mitigate my disability#he is not disruptive#and is fully potty trained/doesn't mark or go where he shouldn't#but like many handlers#my standards are higher than whats in the ADA#and it's so important to me that he's comfortable and enjoying the training/work
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#my living expenses have increased exponentially with the train service experiencing disruption since last year...#and being stuck in traffic on the way to the heart of the city day in day out is making me feeling all burnt out#please send help#while you're away#kim bo ra#kdrama#2020 kbs drama special#kbs drama special
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Train Services Disrupted Due to Adra Division Development Works
Several routes cancelled, diverted on August 4 amid ongoing construction Adra Division’s development works lead to cancellations and route changes for multiple train services on August 4, 2024. JAMSHEDPUR – Ongoing development works in the Adra Division will cause significant disruptions to train services on August 4, 2024, affecting multiple routes and schedules. The 18019/18020…
#Adra Division railway works#August 4 train cancellations#जनजी���न#Barddhaman-Hatia MEMU cancellation#Bokaro Steel City train changes#Indian Railways development projects#Jamshedpur railway updates#Jan Shatabdi Express reroute#Jhargram-Dhanbad MEMU cancellation#Life#Purushottam Express diversion#Train Service Disruptions
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Train Services Disrupted Across France Ahead of Paris 2024 Olympic Games
France is grappling with significant disruptions to its train services today due to coordinated sabotage attacks. This comes just hours before the highly anticipated inauguration of the Paris 2024 Olympic Games.The country’s Transport Minister confirmed the disruptions, which have affected several train routes, including the Eurostar service connecting Paris with London and Brussels. Eurostar has…
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Busy Glasgow train line to close in WEEKS as Scotrail services face major disruption | In Trend Today
Busy Glasgow train line to close in WEEKS as Scotrail services face major disruption Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS
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#Busy Glasgow train line to close in WEEKS as Scotrail services face major disruption#Celebrities#Money#Motors#Politics#ShowBiz#Sport#Tech#UK#US#World
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I spent the evening looking into this AI shit and made a wee informative post of the information I found and thought all artists would be interested and maybe help yall?
edit: forgot to mention Glaze and Nightshade to alter/disrupt AI from taking your work into their machines. You can use these and post and it will apparently mess up the AI and it wont take your content into it's machine!
edit: ArtStation is not AI free! So make sure to read that when signing up if you do! (this post is also on twt)
[Image descriptions: A series of infographics titled: “Opt Out AI: [Social Media] and what I found.” The title image shows a drawing of a person holding up a stack of papers where the first says, ‘Terms of Service’ and the rest have logos for various social media sites and are falling onto the floor. Long transcriptions follow.
Instagram/Meta (I have to assume Facebook).
Hard for all users to locate the “opt out” options. The option has been known to move locations.
You have to click the opt out link to submit a request to opt out of the AI scraping. *You have to submit screenshots of your work/face/content you posted to the app, is curretnly being used in AI. If you do not have this, they will deny you.
Users are saying after being rejected, are being “meta blocked”
People’s requests are being accepted but they still have doubts that their content won’t be taken anyways.
Twitter/X
As of August 2023, Twitter’s ToS update:
“Twitter has the right to use any content that users post on its platform to train its AI models, and that users grant Twitter a worldwide, non-exclusive, royalty-free license to do so.”
There isn’t much to say. They’re doing the same thing Instagram is doing (to my understanding) and we can’t even opt out.
Tumblr
They also take your data and content and sell it to AI models.
But you’re in luck!
It is very simply to opt out (Wow. Thank Gods)
Opt out on Desktop: click on your blog > blog settings > scroll til you see visibility options and it’ll be the last option to toggle
Out out of Mobile: click your blog > scroll then click visibility > toggle opt out option
TikTok
I took time skim their ToS and under “How We Use Your Information” and towards the end of the long list: “To train and improve our technology, such as our machine learning models and algorithms.”
Regarding data collected; they will only not sell your data when “where restricted by applicable law”. That is not many countries. You can refuse/disable some cookies by going into settings > ads > turn off targeted ads.
I couldn’t find much in AI besides “our machine learning models” which I think is the same thing.
What to do?
In this age of the internet, it’s scary! But you have options and can pick which are best for you!
Accepting these platforms collection of not only your artwork, but your face! And not only your faces but the faces of those in your photos. Your friends and family. Some of those family members are children! Some of those faces are minors! I shudder to think what darker purposes those faces could be used for.
Opt out where you can! Be mindful and know the content you are posting is at risk of being loaded to AI if unable to opt out.
Fully delete (not archive) your content/accounts with these platforms. I know it takes up to 90 days for instagram to “delete” your information. And even keep it for “legal” purposes like legal prevention.
Use lesser known social media platforms! Some examples are; Signal, Mastodon, Diaspora, et. As well as art platforms: Artfol, Cara, ArtStation, etc.
The last drawing shows the same person as the title saying, ‘I am, by no means, a ToS autistic! So feel free to share any relatable information to these topics via reply or qrt!
I just wanted to share the information I found while searching for my own answers cause I’m sure people have the same questions as me.’ \End description] (thank you @a-captions-blog!)
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vēnor | sylus
— summary: sylus must’ve gleaned all the info he needed during your exchange and dipped. figures. you’ve played your role well, and it seems he no longer requires your services. unbeknownst to you, crimson eyes narrow in the lowlight, watching the elevator doors swish shut as your target has his way with you. — cw: female reader, marking, biting, unprotected intercourse, creampie, rough sex, size kink, praise kink, cevix f-king, explicit language, jealousy, knife fight, alcohol use, mentions of blood and viscera, self-indulgent, not proofread, mdni — wc: ~4k — notes: you can prolly tell i was inspired by his new secret times, *fans self* thank you for reading, lovely! — now playing: wasted eyes - amaarae u, lost - jeremy pope
Your mission is simple.
Saunter in. Seduce your target. Extract as much information as you can concerning the whereabouts of a particular artifact. Smile pretty. Flutter your lashes. Lure him away with the promise of pleasure. Snuff him out like a candle’s flame when the moment allows.
The setup is flawless. Routine. Until it isn’t.
The figure clad in black, oozing smugness and sex appeal beside you, complicates things.
Typically, you complete your missions alone. You’ve played the role of seductress so long that it’s second nature. You’re more than capable of fending for yourself if shit hits the fan. You’re a menace with a blade and just as formidable without one.
Besides, you live for the thrill of a good fight. A few bruises and broken bones have never deterred you. According to your intel, your target came stacked with security, so you anticipate possibly getting your hands dirty.
But he insisted on accompanying you this time around—Sylus. Reasoned he didn’t want his diamond falling into the wrong hands, whatever the hell that meant. You figure it was an excuse to micromanage you. He’d been doing it a lot lately, ever-looming like a shadow, trained to your every move.
So, here you are—standing beside your employer as the elevator lazily descends, fretting over your hair and the occasional slip of your blouse off your shoulder.
You’re enveloped in an unbearably tense silence. Shift your weight between your feet, trying to keep your gaze on the gilded elevator doors ahead. Even that is a task within itself, scarlet eyes occasionally capturing yours in your reflection, coupled with an omniscient smirk that causes your chest and cheeks to swell with heat.
He stands in good form beside you, hand stuffed in his pocket, hair coiffed, dressed to the nines. He’s infuriatingly calm in contrast to the maelstrom brewing inside you.
You feel much like a child about to perform at a piano recital in front of their parents for the first time. Insane, given you’ve never been this anxious around him before. But things are…
Well, things are different now.
Lately, your relationship with your boss has shifted on its axis, making way for tender words and disarming touches where there were once indifferent looks and tedious banter.
You’re not entirely sure when, but at some point under his tutelage, you’ve developed a fondness for him. A part of you wonders if he feels the same pull, his recent treatment towards you slowly dismantling that carefully constructed wall between you.
The elevator pings and dips, disrupting your thoughts once it reaches its destination.
You release a breath you were unaware of holding. Square your shoulders, mentally preparing yourself for your mission. The doors slide open, a crisp breeze fanning over your inflamed skin, ruffling your floor-length skirt. You move to dismount the lift, but slender fingers encircling your wrist halt your exit.
They’re like a brand on your skin, searing straight to your heart. You’re stock-still as Sylus nears you, swaddling you in the warmth and enthralling scent of scorched cedarwood and cracked vanilla beans he carries. He rounds you, the tips of his shoes staining your vision. You’re wordless as worn fingertips graze your temple, sweeping errant curls behind your ear.
He chuckles something low, his other set of fingers easing beneath your chin to tilt your head back. Your breath corks in your lungs when your gazes interlock.
It’s like he’s peering into your soul, the way he studies you with a reverent shine to his eyes despite the ever-present smirk twitching his lips. You swallow thickly past the barbs in your throat. Enraptured by his gaze, you hardly notice him pushing something into your ear. Not until a sharp pitch of feedback causes you to wince until it levels out.
“Stunning,” he lauds, brushing the flat of his nails over your earpiece, outlining the curve of your cartilage. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”
You vibrate internally from the praise. He smooths back your hair, ghosting over your neck and shoulder. Slides a thumb over the space just shy of your bottom lip, and he tracks its movement, irises darkening into a mysterious shade of garnet.
You’re wearing his favorite color of lipstick–a dangerous shade of rouge reminiscent of wine shared over passionate nights. Your stomach pinches with something foreign. For a moment, your surroundings fall away, and only the pair of you exist in this world of pheromones and shrouded intentions.
Briefly, you entertain the thought of conquering the gap between you. Entertain grabbing his shirt and tugging him into a kiss. Based on the flutter of his lashes as he studies your mouth, you don’t think he would be opposed to it.
But fate has other plans for you tonight, another invasive ding from the elevator disrupting your reprieve.
So caught up in your own little world, you hadn’t noticed that the doors closed in your idleness until someone outside called for the lift.
“Oh shit! My bad,” says a sheepish voice from the hallway. With Sylus’ fingers still curved around your chin, the pair of you look at the intruder outside, Sylus’ expression reading annoyance, and yours, dreaminess.
—
It helps that you’ve already had a drink—a glass of bourbon in your hotel room to take the edge off, loosening your inhibitions.
The music is good, too. Something sultry and ambient as you wend through the envious gazes and intrigued whispering of the bar’s other patrons in pursuit of your target.
You feel his eyes on you, too. A familiar wash of scarlet trained on the space between your shoulder blades and the sway of your hips. The notion of him watching you so intensely sets your insides alight.
You banish the memories of his breath on your skin—of his ghostly touches along your flesh—to the furthest reaches of your mind. It’s showtime. You’ll have plenty of time to confront these complicated feelings for your boss later.
For now, you home in on your target. He’s dressed in something tailored and expensive, the material of his suit crisp as you slide a hand over his shoulder with a sultry smile rounding your lips.
The gentleman looks up from the whiskey glass in his hands. Dons a smile of his own, straightening when you pour yourself onto the stool beside him. He signals to the bartender, then turns to face you, skimming over your visage with his brows lifted in intrigue.
“Well now. What’s a pretty thing like you doing here all by yourself?” he queries, tone murky like the liquor in his glass.
You tilt your head, your hair falling over your features just right. Cross your legs, offering him your hand to kiss. Your voice is husky. Disarming as you counter, “Handsome fella like you looked like you could use some company.”
He drags his lips over the notches and grooves of your knuckles, whiskey-colored eyes fastened to you. Smiling, you pluck his glass from betwixt his fingers. Throw back what remains in it, the acrid sting warming your innards whilst you set it down on the sticky counter with a definitive clack.
The man whistles, clearly impressed. “Pretty and a drinker. I like you already.”
You laugh something rehearsed. Toy with the red-gemmed pendant between your collarbones. He’s charming. Good-looking. Maybe you’ll have a little fun before you take his life. You haven’t had your desires sated in a while, too busy tamping down your own needs for the love of your boss.
On cue, scarlet twinkles in your periphery. Sylus. He’s seated not too far off, nursing a glass of something viscous. Quietly biding his time, poised to step in if he deems it necessary. A part of you is spurred on by his attention. You play up the theatrics of your flirtations if only to get a rise out of him.
It’s relatively easy to fall into femme fatale mode thereafter. You chat up your target, inquiring about his profession and complimenting his taste in liquor, guided by Sylus via earpiece.
You don’t miss the vexed clip in your boss’ voice whenever you get a little too handsy, laugh a little too bewitchingly, and bite back a smile at how envious he sounds in your ear. The gentleman is putty in your hands, a grinning, chuckling fool when you squeeze his thigh and stroke his ego.
You pull out all the stops, feeding him alcohol until he’s red-faced with a loosened tongue, unwittingly spewing out the information you seek. He touches you as the night blurs, worn fingers smoothing over your thighs, cresting down the slope of your arm, brushing your cheek, dragging over your shoulder.
You let him have his fill. It’s not like you aren’t enjoying yourself, too, the alcohol warming in your veins, heightening your need for physical stimulation.
Finally, you sweep in for the kill. Angle yourself closer to your prey, your breasts pressing temptingly against his arm whilst your hands roost on his quad.
“Wanna take this party elsewhere?” you whisper, brushing the outer shell of his ear with your lips. He chuckles like the enamored fool you molded him into, dragging his mouth across your cheek in a kiss as you pull back.
“Got a room upstairs,” he husks in what little space dwells between your faces. “We could have some real fun there.”
Hook. Line. Sinker.
He takes your hand in his, drawing you from the stool. Twirls you ‘round to get a good look at you, the dangerous contours of your body accentuated by your outfit.
Your target clicks his tongue, inwardly patting himself on the back for bagging such a beauty. He guides you through the crowd towards the elevator. And as he whisks you away, you survey your surroundings in search of a familiar shock of white.
Disappointment spumes through you when you don’t find him through the bar's furling smoke and sultry lighting. He must’ve gleaned all the info he needed during your exchange and dipped. Figures. You’ve played your role well, and it seems he no longer requires your services for the time being.
Where before, you felt guilty for seeking a little fun, the feeling sloughs off, replaced by disdain and spite spooling in your gut.
Your target draws you to him by your waist as the elevator doors slide shut, the pair of you flanked by two of his bodyguards. You succumb to his ministrations, his lips on a shameless excursion over your throat, drawing the sultriest little laugh from betwixt your lips.
Unbeknownst to you, crimson eyes narrow in the lowlight, watching the elevator doors swish shut.
—
The hallway of the sixth floor is barren. Eerily quiet, the fluorescent lights above dancing over four figures moving over the carpeted floors.
You toddle behind your prey, guided by interlaced fingers, swathed in the imposing aura of his bodyguards on either side of you. You feel for the blades cinched to your thigh, tucked beneath the veil of your skirt. Easing one from your garter belt, you conceal the knife in your palm, and the guards seem none-the-wiser.
Suddenly, muffled sounds erupt on either side of you. You glance back, alarmed to see the bodyguards wiped from existence. The only clue revealing their fate is a familiar, wispy coil of dark red left in their place. You narrow your eyes, jaw set in a rigid line.
Sylus.
Your target seems undeterred, continuing to prattle on ahead as he herds you to his room. Sylus must’ve assumed you couldn’t handle your own, which makes you buzz with irritation.
Fine. He thinks you’re incapable? You’ll prove him wrong.
With the blade held firm between your forefingers, you prepare to thrust it into your target’s neck. So much for having a bit of fun.
However, before you can complete the thought, something ensnares your wrist, snatching you from the hallway into the arms of an inky darkness. Your spine collides with something rigid and cold, the air siphoned from your lungs.
Your fight or flight senses kick into overdrive, and with the moonlight highlighting your assailant's silhouette, you swing your blade where you assume their head is. They release a brief sound of exertion, ducking beneath your attack. You cleave through the air again, coupling the swing with a series of kicks to put some space between you and land a hit.
Your aggressor, seemingly familiar with your move set, catches your ankle, shoving it down to derail your attacks, and a dark chuckle vibrates the air.
“That all you got?” they provoke, the timbre of their voice reminiscent of thunder rolling over the horizon.
You stumble back a few paces, righting yourself before charging with another slew of punches, swipes, and kicks. It’s a futile endeavor, scuffling in low visibility like this against an opponent who seems to be using the darkness to their advantage.
But you’ll be damned if you go down without a fight.
“Too slow,” tsks your foe, egging you on.
Suddenly, your attacker traps your hand clutching the blade, and you dumbly blink as they use your momentum to swing you ‘round, manacling both your wrists together at the small of your back. Your cheek squished against a glacial surface, your assailant shoves their weight against you, trapping you between a wall and the hardened slope of their body.
Faint wisps of vanilla invade your scenes, yet the hot rush of adrenaline seeping through you blots out all logic and reason. You struggle against their hold, your labored breaths intermingling with their husky laughter.
You grit your teeth when a hand eases down the curve of your hip, sliding over your thigh with practiced ease. You grit your teeth against the feel of it as it dips beneath your skirt’s slit to tug your remaining knives free of your garter belt.
You listen with pinched breaths as the crisp steel plunges into a far-off surface. How the hell did they know where you kept your knives?
In a ditch effort to free yourself, you thrust your hips back, momentarily throwing your attacker off-kilter. Their grip on your wrists slackens, and you spin around, planting your foot against their chest to create some distance. Twirling your knife, you thrust it towards the outline of a neck. It’s to no avail, those searing fingers once again taking possession of your wrist before you can land a blow.
You release a frustrated cry, your hand twisting painfully until the blade plummets to the ground, sinking into the floor with a resounding thwack! Employing your other hand, you try to pry your wrist free, aiming an onslaught of kicks at your aggressor’s ribs. They effortlessly block them with the hard edge of their forearm, and your moot efforts seem to amuse them further.
The severity of your situation settling in, soft light suddenly floods the narrow space, pouring down from overhead to reveal the contours of a familiar face.
“Sylus?” you gasp, bleary-eyed and chest heaving.
He uses your surprise to his advantage, surging forward to capture your lips. The air punched from your lungs, you trade your alarm for a bitten-off moan, fingers instinctively seeking out the silken glide of his hair.
He pushes his tongue into the warm cavern of your mouth, swallowing your groans whilst his hands make frantic expeditions over your sides, bunching up your blouse and skirt in pursuit of the supple glide of your skin.
Fingers curl around your thighs where they pinch and knead the flesh there, Sylus notching himself between your legs. And fuck, he’s hard, your scuffle awakening things in him he thought himself dead to.
He lifts you into his arms, and your legs intuitively wind about his waist. The hotel door rattles behind you when he slams you against it, his hands greedily sprawling over your body, burning through the layers of your skin.
“What the fuck,” you breathe when he releases your mouth, and you crane your neck to the side, granting him more access whilst he brands your throat with the languid drag of his lips.
He nips and sucks in a way that borders pain, his breaths sweltering and ragged, matching the roll of his hips. The rough stitching of his slacks acquaints itself with your center, and you sigh all hot and wanton, your spine scrubbing against the door whilst he grinds into you.
“Did you really think I’d let him have his way with you?” he pants through the lust-ladened haze, dragging his lips over your shoulder and collarbones, down to the ample swell of your breasts. He rakes his teeth over the skin there, sure to leave pretty blooms of purple and blue in their wake.
You huff a laugh, the back of your head colliding with the door. “Oh, Sylus. Don’t tell me you were jealous.”
Of course, you were banking on it, playing your role too well.
You yip when he bites you in warning, the predatory gleam of his eyes trained on your face. “How could I be jealous if you’re already mine?”
You scoff at that, a wave of ecstasy surging through you when his fingers ease between your thighs, grazing your labia, rucking your panties to one side to reveal your own desire. Your back bows when he prods your puckering sex with two fingers, and he chuckles against your neck, the sound of it making your pussy flutter with excitement.
“Seems I’m not the only one affected by our little spat.” With a few more strokes up the span of your cunt, he sinks his digits inside you, and you share a pleased exhale as you greedily suck him in down to the hilt.
“Look at you. So ready for me. And to think you were so eager to give this away to another man.”
“Do you always talk this much,” you breathe, draping your arms around his shoulders. Screw your eyes shut, humping against his fingers, chasing that sweet coiling sensation building in your tummy.
“Are you always this impatient,” counters Sylus, open-mouthed against your chin, his thumb sifting through the thick folds of your sex in search of your clit. He presses down, and you shudder, the sound of his name curling around your tongue, making his dick jump.
“Only with you. Unh, fuck. Just with—just with you.”
“Tell me you want this,” he rasps into the hollow of your neck. Scissors his fingers inside you, slowly unraveling those bundles of nerves inside, the vulgar squelch of your cunt intermingling with your labored breaths. “Beg me to fuck you, or I’ll stop.”
To punctuate his words, he slows the pleasurable drag of his fingers, and you whine, clinging to his shoulders for dear life.
The heat of embarrassment washes over you. You’re too far gone to care. Too enraptured to give a damn about your facade or pride. Need him inside you, otherwise, you might just die.
“Your words, sweetheart. Use them,” he coaxes on a rasp.
“Fuck me,” you relent, baring down on his digits curling inside you. “Fuck me, Sylus, please.”
“Good girl,” he praises, already freeing himself from the restrictive pull of his slacks and briefs.
You’ve no time to admire his size in the dimness. Too clouded by lust, your eyes fixated on his while he rubs the swollen head against the seam of your pussy. He prods your sticky opening, and your mouth waters with anticipation, the sheer size of his head alone enough to stretch you nice and open for him.
“Deep breaths, darling,” he coos against your hinged-open mouth. And your thighs crater between his fingers as he sinks you onto his cock, the strain of pushing into you stealing the air from his chest.
“Oh fuck,” you gasp. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.” You’re halfway sobbing, gritting your teeth, your fingers buried in the collar of his shirt, and your face falls into the crook of his shoulder, where you bite and suck, seeking a little respite from the painful stretch.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Breathe for me.” He isn’t intentionally being pompous. Knows he’s thicker than the average bear, and as much as he burns to be buried inside you, he doesn’t want to hurt you more than necessary.
Soon, the pain subsides, making way for little flutters of pleasure when he’s fully eased home, his swollen cockhead kissing your cervix. When he’s sure you’ve adjusted to his girth, he fucks into you with shallow thrusts at first, watching your face for any signs of discomfort.
Despite the moment, he’s a patient lover. Taking his time moving inside you, invoking pretty sounds from your lips. A thick ring of cream forms around the base of his cock as he ruts into you, your intermingled fluids scorching down the inner cut of your thigh.
As time passes, your moans crescendo, spurring him on, and he fucks into you a little harder, your nails forming angry crescents in his traps through the fabric of his shirt. One of your heels falls off and clatters against the floor, he’s fucking you so good. So deep, battering against your cervix.
“You take me so well, sweetheart,” he dotes into the junction of your neck and shoulder, bouncing you on his cock a little faster. “So deep. It’s like you were made to be my precious little cock sleeve.”
You can do nothing but gasp at the delicious friction, blanketed in the throes of passion, in the feel of him nestled deep inside you, filling you to the brim.
You feel like you’re in a dream, being fucked by your boss like this. The object of your desires, the focal point of your fantasies and affections. Your clit scrubs against his pelvic bone with each thrust, and that sparkling rush of ecstasy begins to bloom in your tummy.
“Gonna cum?” he husks, your walls clenching around him.
You nod, your voice lodged in your throat, and you tangle your fingers in the delicate sweep of hair at his nape, pulling him in for a kiss, pouring every pent-up feeling into the warm chasm of his mouth.
Spurred by the delicious drag of his cock inside you, by his tongue licking into your mouth, and by your puckered nipples grazing against the hardened lines of his shirt, you cum. God, you cum.
And the world slides into white, your mouth opening with a moan seemingly dragged from the bowels of your chest, your toes curling against the divots of his buttocks. He fucks you through it, pulled over the edge with you, hot spurts of cum flooding the searing clench of your pussy.
He holds you like this against the door, swathed in the symphony of your quickened heartbeats and breaths. Gulps down air, his forehead nestled against your shoulder, a fine sheen of sweat covering your bodies whilst you pet through locks of powder white, drawing him down from the sky.
He hums against your lips, drawing you into a sticky kiss that lingers and etches a smile onto your face. He plucks you from the door, tenderly gathering you into his hands to walk you into the bathroom.
He sets you down on the crisp countertop, the marble cold beneath your inflamed skin. And you paw from him like a needy kitten whilst he divests himself of his clothing, chuckling when he steps between your thighs to rid you of your wrinkled attire.
“Sylus,” you query, blinking lazily up at him whilst he draws you into his arms, turning you toward the shower. He hums in reply, a boyish gleam to his eyes and a smile rounding his lips. “What about the target?”
Sylus snorts, depositing you beneath the warm spray of the shower, the water already working to ease the strain on your muscles.
“I already took care of it.” And with his hands perched on your hips, he angles himself to kiss you, full-bodied on the lips, never wanting to hear another man’s name touch your tongue again.
—
Meanwhile, Luke and Kieran meander through the quiet halls of the sixth floor, their masks spattered with blood and viscera as they whistle a wistful tune.
#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus smut#love and deepspace sylus#sylus#lads sylus#lnds sylus#l&ds sylus#sylus lads#sylus qin
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Rail News| Sealdah: বৃষ্টির জেরে বিধাননগর স্টেশনের কাছে লাইনে ধস, বাতিল ৫ জোড়া লোকাল
অয়ন ঘোষাল: শিয়ালদহ উত্তর শাখায় লাইনে ধসের কারণে বিঘ্নিত হল অফিস টাইমের ট্রেন চলাচল। বৃষ্টির জেরে লাইনের নীচের মাটি সরে গিয়ে ধস নামে বিধাননগর স্টেশনের কাছে কাঁকুরগাছি কেবিন সংলগ্ন ���কটি জায়গায়। বিষয়টি নজরে আসতেই গতি কমিয়ে মেইন লাইন দিয়ে ট্রেন চালিয়ে পরিষেবা স্বাভাবিক রাখার চেষ্টা করা হয়। বাতিল করা হয় ৫ জোড়া লোকাল ট্রেন। সকাল সাড়ে নটা নাগাদ ঘণ্টা খানেকের চেষ্টায় শেষপর্যন্ত ধস সারিয়ে ফেললেন রেল…
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AGING HEADCANONS — SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA
just a lighthearted drabble about Sanemi dealing with the effects of age on his body.
CW: 600 words • MDNI • suggestive/implied sexual content • comfort • fluff
Sanemi Shinazugawa strikes me as the type to retain a great deal of his strength as he ages. He takes pride in his muscles, and even after the Corps is disbanded, he keeps up his physique. After all, while the threat of demons has been purged from the earth, humans are still a fickle enemy. Best to be prepared to defend himself — and his family — at all times.
But what Sanemi is not prepared for is the impact his rigorous training has on his body as he gets older. Sure, he’s strong; always has been, always will be. Unfortunately for the former Wind Hashira, however, Sanemi is learning that reaching his forties has its consequences.
His joints, for example, are just the latest casualty.
“The fuck do you mean I threw a hip out?” He grumbles you help him settle into your sofa with a grunt. “I’ve done these exercises every day for more than twenty damn years —“
“Not as flexible as you were in your twenties, are you?” You half-scold, half tease, wiping your hand across your damp forehead.
When you’d awoken that morning, you hadn’t expected the labor of lugging your husband back inside his mansion before he’d completed his morning training.
You’d been in the middle of preparing tea for you to share once he’d finished — a well-settled part of your routine, one you knew he looked forward to as much as you did, even now, twenty years after you’d married. Never before had this sacred ritual been disrupted until this morning, when Sanemi’s strangled yell sent the birds scattering into the sky, and the tea kettle nearly out of your hands.
You’d hurried out into your gardens, where Sanemi maintained his sparring ring, complete with thick, wooden posts and an orderly litter of training weapons. There, sprawled across the ground, had been your husband, spitting every filthy word in his lexicon into the dirt, his hand gingerly braced atop his right hip.
In your retirement from the Demon Slayer Corps, Sanemi had been the more active one between the two of you. You regretted not keeping up with training, however, when you’d been forced to shove your shoulder under your husband’s and half-heave, half-drag him back inside your shared estate.
Once settled, you help guide Sanemi’s right leg up onto the cushion, keeping his hip elevated. “I’ll ring for Kanao or one of her girls, later.”
The Kamado family lived well over an hour away in the mountains. Had Sanemi been injured even a decade earlier, you would’ve panicked. While you were certain the doctors in the nearby prefecture were perfectly competent, there were none you trusted more than Kanao or her daughters. Thankfully, you no longer had to rely on crows or even mail services to reach them, Sanemi having purchased a telephone a few years earlier.
To your surprise, Sanemi doesn’t argue, instead turning his attention to the way you rub at the small of your back.“You okay?”
“Better than you,” you retort easily, forcing yourself to walk away, spine straight, into the kitchen to fetch the tea you’d prepared. Like you’d let him see how age was beginning to affect you, too. Heaven knows the kind of trouble you’d be in if both of you were down for the count, and you don’t think you could survive the embarrassment of sending after one of your children for assistance.
You return a moment later with the tea tray, laden with the delicate china Sanemi had gifted to you on your wedding day. He grunts his thanks when you hand him his cup, filled halfway with his tea of choice — green — sharp and bitter, the way he liked.
You busy yourself with pouring tea for yourself. “Maybe this is your sign to ease up. It’s perfectly normal that you can’t do the same things you once could, you know.”
He deflects with a cocky, smug grin. “Don’t have any trouble keepin’ up with you, darlin’. At least, you haven’t had any complaints.”
Humming, you settle into one of the great armchairs across from him. “If memory serves me right, your knee popped rather loudly the other night.”
He’d been thrusting hard up into you while you braced your hands against the headboard when a loud pop! had disrupted the steady rhythm of your hips. And, try as he might, your husband’s furtive attempt at covering the sound with a loud moan hadn’t been successful.
Sanemi’s cheeks redden, and he drops his gaze back to his tea, muttering under his breath. You smirk. Y/N, one; Sanemi, zero.
“Gettin’ old sucks,” he sighs, blowing on the steaming liquid. “Bet fuckin’ Uzui doesn’t have to deal with this shit. Tomioka and I are the only ones who still train consistently.”
“Yes, well, Uzui has his plate full.”
It was true; between three wives and four children, you reckon the former Sound Hashira got more than his fair share of physical activity.
You glance to your husband, then, chewing lightly on your lip. “I’m happy you have these issues, you know. These aches and pains — I think they’re a good thing.”
Sanemi snorts, though his eyes warm when he meets your gaze across the sitting room. “You just like seein’ me knocked down a few pegs.”
“Not at all,” you set your tea cup on the lacquered table between you and smooth your hands over your skirt. “I like knowing you’re here to age.”
Solemnity passes over his face then, softening the irritated set of his mouth. You know, as well as he, how lucky the two of you are to be sitting here, bemoaning the woes of aging, when so many of your comrades hadn’t the same fortune.
Every morning you see is a blessing; every new line appearing by your eyes or the corners of your mouths, a luxury far too many never got to indulge. No matter how inconvenient your stiffening joints or limited mobility became, you would never not be grateful.
When Sanemi finds his voice, it is hoarse with emotion. “Get over here. I wanna kiss you.”
Oh, you would love nothing more, but now that you’ve sat down, you find the concept of standing up almost an impossible feat. Perhaps the two of you really are doomed.
Busted, you grin, sheepish. “Can’t. My back is a little more sore than I let on.”
Sanemi groans and you laugh. “Then I stand by what I said. Gettin’ old fuckin’ sucks.”
#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#sanemi shinazugawa#kny#kny x reader#kny fanfic#kny sanemi#sanemi x reader
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I don’t think I’ve talked much about having a service dog on here, but maybe I should
Boom used to be my service dog, I got him the summer before my last year of high school bcuz I needed a nurse 24/7 to ensure I could eat/sleep/stay alive due to a recent very traumatizing event in my life and my mom came up with the service dog idea.
Getting him was hard. And expensive. No trainers were up to my standards. I, who could barely take care of myself, had to train my own dog. The problem is no matter how hard I worked, my own family or other trainers would ruin it all by messing up my commands, by letting my dog do things I had trained him not to do. It wasn’t training anymore, I ended up simply having breakdowns because everyone kept ruining my dog. People close to me thought they could be an exception to the rules I had taught my MEDICAL AID because surely my DOG would learn the difference between them and strangers.
Eventually I brought him to school. Printed papers explaining what a service dog was and how to behave around him and I plastered them all over the place.
People barked at him, petted him, tried to grab his attention.
His harness was hot pink, patches and signs on it that very clearly said “DO NOT TOUCH” and shit like that.
Someone defaced one of the papers.
Going to school was already hard, I could barely leave the house, my mom had to accompany me to the school doors every morning and then a social worker at school would greet me there and take care of me throughout the day.
I had my own locker at a floor mostly unoccupied so I wouldn’t see other people much and my dog wouldn’t be too distracted.
But it was still to much and I ended up dropping out four months before graduation.
I couldn’t leave the house. I had Boom but he wasn’t perfect yet. People kept ruining him.
But eventually I managed to leave the house. Go to a shopping mall from time to time with him to just walk and have fun.
Too many times people came up to me to tell me the gear I used was hurting my dog. Too many times people came up to me to tell me that their own dog died. Too many people came up to him and pet him without even acknowledging my presence. Too many people telling me they wished they could bring their pets anywhere. Too many people disrespecting me and my service dog.
I stopped going out. I stopped being with my dog.
All this stress and trauma drove a wedge between my dog and I. I consider him my mother’s dog now.
I had to learn to handle myself alone when I went out. It took me years to learn to go out by myself. Only last year I started doing that.
My dog doesn’t live in my room with me anymore.
Having a service dog did still save my life. But those around me ruined that. They made it about themselves. They prioritized my dog over me. My dog that LOVES working. If you tell him “do you want to go to work” chances are he’ll get so excited he will attempt to do a backflip.
We used to have a deep bond. That bond is now broken. People took that from us.
So I guess what I’m trying to say is:
Let people and their service dogs alone.
You are not an exception.
You are not special.
You are disrupting the dog’s training and distracting it.
You are endangering a human life because you can’t resist petting the cute dog.
This isn’t about you. This is about a disabled person trying to simply live their lives.
You don’t know what you’re talking about, your advice is unsolicited and lacks understanding of what the life of a working dog is.
Just leave us alone.
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i luv this song
#sza#sza ctrl#busy glasgow train line to close in weeks as scotrail services face major disruption#SoundCloud
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BOYCOTTING FOR PALESTINE
The Official BDS Boycott Targets
Campaigns
Block the boat: End maritime arms transfer to Israel
Ban Apartheid Israel from Sports (FIFA, Olympics)
CAF get off Israel's train: Boycott CAF
Greenwashing Apartheid
Israeli Spyware
Military Embargo
Farming Injustice
Consumer Boycotts - a complete boycott of these brands
Cisco
Axa
Puma
Carrefour
HP
Siemens
Chevron
Intel
Caltex
Israeli produce
Re/max
Ahava
Texaco
Sodastream
Intel
Organic Boycott Targets - boycotts not initiated by BDS but still complete boycott of these brands
Disney
Macdonald's
Dominos
Papa Johns
Burger King
Pizza Hut
Wix
Divestments and exclusion - pressure governments, institutions, investment funds, city councils, etc. to exclude from procurement contracts and investments and to divest from these
Elbit Systems
CAF
Volvo
CAT
Barclays
JCB
HD Hyundai
TKH Security
HikVision
Pressure - boycotts when reasonable alternatives exist, as well as lobbying, peaceful disruptions, and social media pressure.
Google
Amazon
AirBnb
Booking.Com
Expedia
Teva
Here are some companies that strongly support Israel (but are not Boycott targets). There is no ethical consumption under capitalism and boycotting is a political strategy - not a moral one. If you did try to boycott every supporter of Israel you would struggle to survive because every major company supports Israel (as a result of attempting to keep the US economy afloat), that being said, the ones that are being boycotted by masses and not already on the organic boycott list are coloured red.
5 Star Chocolate
7Days
7Up
Apple
Arsenal FC
ALDO
Arket
Axe
Accenture
Ariel
Adidas
ActionIQ
Aquafina
Amika
AccuWeather
Activia
Adobe
Aesop
Azrieli Group
American Eagle
Amway Corp
Axel Springer
American Airlines
American Express
Atlassian
AdeS
Aquarius
Ayataka
Audi
Barqs
Bain & Company
Bayer
Bank Leumi
Bank Hapoalim
BCG (Boston Consulting Group)
Biotherm
Bershka
Bloomberg
BMW
Boeing
Booz Allen Hamilton
Burberry
Bath & Body Works
Bosch
Bristol Myers Squibb
Capri Holdings
Costa
Carita Paris
CareTrust REIT
Caterpillar
Coach
Cappy
Caudalie
CeraVe
Check Point Software Technologies
Cerelac
Chanel
Chapman and Cutler
Channel
Cheerios
Cheetos
Chevron
Chips Ahoy!
Christina Aguilera
Citi Bank
Codral
Cosco
Canada Dry
Citi
Clal Insurance Enterprises
Clean & Clear
Clearblue
Clinique
Champion
Club Social
Coca Cola
Coffee Mate
Colgate
Comcast
Compass
Caesars
Conde Nast
Cooley LLP
Costco
Côte d’Or
Crest
CV Starr
CyberArk Software
Cytokinetics
Crayola
Cra Z Art
Daimler
Dr Pepper
Del Valle
Daim
Doctor Pepper
Dasani
Doritos
Daz
Dior
Dell
Deloitte
Delta Air Lines
Deutsche Bank
Deutsche Telekom
DHL Group
David Off
Disney
DLA Piper
Domestos
Domino’s
Douglas Elliman
Downy
Duane Morris LLP
Dreft Baby Detergent & Laundry Products
Dreyer’s Grand Ice Cream
eBay
Edelman
Eli Lilly
Evian
Empyrean
Ericsson
Endeavor
EPAM Systems
Estee Lauder
Elbit Systems
EY
Forbes
Facebook
Fairlife
Fanta
First International Bank of Israel
Fiverr
Funyuns
Fuze
Fox News
Fritos
Fox Corp
Gatorade
Gamida Cell
GE
Glamglow
General Catalyst
General Motors
Georgia
Gold Peak
Genesys
Goldman Sachs
Grandma’s Cookies
Garnier
Guess
Greenberg Traurig
Guerlain
Givenchy
H&M
Hadiklaim
Huggies
Hanes
HSBC
Head & Shoulders
Hersheys
Herbert Smith Freehills
Hewlett Packard
Hasbro
Hyundai
Henkel
Harel Insurance Investment & Financial Services
Hewlett Packard Enterprise
HubSpot
Huntsman Corp
IBM
Innocent
Insight Partners
Inditex Group
IT Cosmetics
Instacart
Intermedia
Interpublic Group
Instagram
ICL Group
Intuit
Jazwares
Jefferies
John Lewis
JP Morgan Chase
Jaguar
Johnson & Johnson
JPMorgan
Kenon Holdings
Kate Spade
Kirks’
Kinley Water
KKR
KFC
KKW Cosmetics
Kurkure
Keebler
Kolynos
Kaufland
Kevita
Knorr
KPMG
Lemonade
Lidl
Loblaws
Levi Strauss
Louis Vuitton
Life Water
Levi’s
Levi’s Strauss
LinkedIn
Land Rover
L’Oréal
Lego
Levissima
Live Nation Entertainment
Lufthansa
La Roche-Posay
Lipton
Major League Baseball
Manpower Group
Marriott
Marsh McLennan
Maison Francis Kurkdjian
Mastercard
Mattel
Minute Maid
Monster
Monki
Mainz FC
Mellow Yellow
Mountain Dew
Migdal Insurance
Marks & Spencer
Mirinda
McDermott Will & Emery
Motorola
McKinsey
Merck
Michael Kors
Mizrahi Tefahot Bank
Merck KGaA
Micheal Kors
Milkybar
Maybelline
Mount Franklin
Meta
MeUndies
Mattle
Microsoft
Munchies
Miranda
Morgan Lewis
Moroccanoil
Morgan Stanley
MRC
Nasdaq
Naughty Dog
Nivea
Next
NOS
Nabisco
Nutter Butter
No Frills
National Basketball Association
National Geographic
Nintendo
New Balance
Nutella
Newtons
NVIDIA
Netflix
Nescafe
Nestle
Nesquick
Nike
Nussbeisser
Oreo
Oral B
Old spice
Oysho
Omeprazole
Oceanspray
Opodo
P&G (Procter and Gamble)
Pampers
Pull & Bear
Pepsi
Pfizer
Popeyes
Parker Pens
Philadelphia Cream Cheese
Pizza Hut
Powerade
Purina
Phoenix Holdings
Propel
Ponds
Pure Leaf Green Tea
Power Action Wipes
PwC
Prada
Perry Ellis
Prada Eyewear
Pringles
Payoneer
Procter & Gamble
Purelife
Pureology
Quaker Oats
Reddit
Royal Bank of Canada
Ruffles
Revlon
Ralph Lauren
Ritz
Rolls Royce
Royal
S.Pellegrino
Sabra Hummus
Sabre
Sony
SAP
Simply
Smart Water
Sprite
Schwabe
Shell
Soda Stream
Siemens
StreamElements
Schweppes
Sunsilk
Signal
Skittles
Smart Food
Sobe
Smarties
Sephora
Sam’s Club
Superbus
Samsung
Sodastream
Sunkist
Scotiabank
Sour Patch Kids
Starbucks
Sadaf
Stride
Subway
Tang
Tate’s Bake Shop
The Body Shop
Tesco
Twitch
The Ordinary
Tim Hortons
Tostitos
Timberland
Topo Chico
Tapestry
Tropicana
Tommy Hilfiger
Tommy Hilfiger Toiletries
Turbos
Tom Ford
Taco Bell
Triscuit
TUC
Twix
Tottenham Hotspurs
Twisties
Tripadvisor
Uber
Uber Eats
Urban Decay
Upfield
Unilever
Vicks
Victoria’s Secret
V8
Vaseline
Vitaminwater
Volkswagen
Volvo
Walmart
Wegmans
WhatsApp
Waitrose
Woolworths
Wheat Thins
Walkers
Warner Brothers
Warner Chilcot
Warner Music
Wells Fargo
Winston & Strawn
WingStreet
Wissotzky Tea
WWE
Wheel Washing Powder
Wrigley Company
YouTube
Yvel
Yum Brands
Ziyad
Zara
Zim Shipping
Ziff Davis
#free palestine#palestine#free gaza#israel#gaza#long post#from river to sea palestine will be free#palestinian lives matter#palestinian genocide#free free palestine#current events#fuck israel#anti zionisim#isntreal#defund israel#ceasefire#boycott israel#boycott divest sanction#boycott starbucks#boycott disney#boycott mcdonalds#boycotting#boycott divestment sanctions#my post#boycotts work
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Train services were disrupted on Friday across France due to coordinated sabotage acts, the country’s transport minister said a few hours ahead of the inauguration ceremony of the Paris 2024 Olympic Games.
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Train Cancellations Impact Jamshedpur Commuters
Rail Services Disrupted Following Howrah-Mumbai Mail Derailment Numerous passenger trains suspended in Chakradharpur Division due to recent accident, affecting local and long-distance travel plans. JAMSHEDPUR – Rail authorities announce the cancellation of multiple train services on August 1st, following a recent derailment incident. The cancellation of nine train services on August 1st comes in…
#alternative travel arrangements#जनजीवन#Chakradharpur Division railway disruption#express train disruptions#Hatia-Sanki route affected#Howrah-Mumbai Mail derailment#Life#MEMU train cancellations#passenger train suspensions#railway safety measures#Tatanagar-Barkakana service cancelled#train cancellations Jamshedpur
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