#I needed to get this out of my system-----

[tinypaperstar]

Kpop Demon Hunters post credit scene

[wosospacegirl]

dinosaurs and...sex? - Alexia Putellas

Summary: Alexia's girlfriend is way too stressed out for her own good, so she puts matter into her own hands (fingers)

Word count: 2.2k

Warning: (+18) fingering and oral (r receiving) and at the end suggestive to oral (r giving) because we are all switches here at wosospacegirl

A/n: I think I've found my niche in fanfic and it's writing nerdy lesbian sex...sorry it's repetitive but it's just so fun to write them...

this is a scheduled post because I *actually* have a dinosaur test to study to and I don't have alexia to eat me out so--

..

"Can I come in, or are you still acting like a monster?" Alexia said from the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. She was holding something, but you couldn't quite see what, mostly because your eyes had stopped functioning after reading the word Mesozoic for the ninth time.

You had decided to go to university.

 And now you carry that burden every day. Every. Single. Day.

It was finals week, and you were an absolute wreck. You were so stressed that you had caught the worst cold ever known to humankind. Why your immune system gave up on you at the slightest sign of stress, you didn't know.

Alexia had taken care of you and made sure you rested. But of course, that meant you hadn't been able to study for three whole days.

And now here you were, at Alexi's house, sprawled across her bed, surrounded by books that were open at completely random pages, with class notes you didn't even remember taking.

Your eyes hurt. Your head hurts. Everything hurt. But mostly your soul, because you felt like you barely had one. Surely you had long lost it between the Jurassic and the Cretaceous period.

And when everything hurt, it made you angry, because you couldn't study the way you wanted to. And when you were angry, you were rude.

Alexia had shown up (to her room, in her house) and asked if the two of you shouldn't take a walk or do something relaxing. AKA: She was getting stressed from watching you mumble like a maniac about something called…Coelurosauria?

You, ever the sweet and understanding girlfriend, had snapped at her, questioning why the hell she was bothering you while you were studying.

It wasn't a "Hi, Alexia, I'm sorry, I can't talk right now."

It was a "Oh my fucking God, Alexia, can't you leave me alone for two whole minutes?"

Alexia–who was actually sweet and understanding– didn't say anything. She just stepped closer to where you were sitting, kissed the top of your head, and left a protein bar beside you before quietly walking away, probably heading for a lonely walk around Barcelona.

You cried while studying the skeleton of the Brachiosaurus because you felt guilty afterwards.

You didn't want to be mean, but finals brought out the worst in you. Still, Alexia wasn't the one to blame.

You knew Alexia was back when you heard the front door on the first floor opening and then closing. You heard her taking off her shoes and making her way upstairs.

You felt the mattress dip beside you, and when you turned around, Alexia was sitting there. You gave her your biggest, most apologetic eyes. 

"I'm sorry," you said, genuinely.

Alexia looked at you, cupped your jaw, and brought your mouth to hers. She kissed you sweetly. "It's okay," she murmured against your lips as you closed your eyes. 

"I know you get grumpy when you're overwhelmed with school. No need to say sorry."

"Yes, I do," you said, breaking the kiss and flopping back onto the bed, almost like a starfish. Your book was lying open beside you as you stared at the ceiling. "I was rude, that's not okay."

"It is okay," Alexia said, as she hovered above you, her hair tickling your cheek. "Because you sound hot when you're mad."

You rolled your eyes and pecked her lips. "Okay, now you're stretching."

"I'm serious," she said, getting off of you and sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed. "You pout and your brows furrow…It's like  exactly the face you make when you're about to cum–"

"Okay!" you interrupted, throwing your book at her, your face burning. Alexia could be so crude when she wanted to.  "No talking about sex, or–"

"--you cumming?" Alexia teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," you groaned. "This is literally the most boring subject ever. It doesn't pair well with dirty talk."

Alexia stayed quiet for a few seconds, and you took that as a sign to return to your notes and re-read them. You were lying on your stomach now,  your paper was spread out in front of you, when you felt Alexia climb on top of you and drop all of her weight onto your back.

Out of the sudden, you had a book to your face as well–your zoology and evolution of dinosaur book.

Alexia cheekily snatched your notes, and before you could complain, her voice filled the room as she read the book.

"Thyreophora, often known as armoured dinosaurs, were a group of ornithischian dinosaurs that lived from the Early Jurassic until the end of the Cretaceous…"

You listened as Alexia spoke, and you couldn't help but feel as if she was… reading it erotically?

You felt her weight on your back, the way she held your book right in front of you, holding it with one hand while her other hand stayed pressed to your ribcage.

"Primitive forms had simple, low, keeled scutes or osteoderms," she continued, her voice low as she pressed more fully into your body like she was getting cosy, relaxing. "Oh, those are cool, right, bebé?" she said against your ear, and you couldn't help the shiver that ran through you.

You had known Alexia long enough to recognise when she was doing this on purpose.

Sometimes, you had the willpower to push her away and to fight back. You had to study, your exam was tomorrow!! But right now?

Right now, you wanted to be pliant.

"Most thyreophorans were herbivorous and had small brains for their size," she said, her hand slipping under your shirt, her cold fingertips grazing your skin just above your ribs. 

"Oh, does that mean they were dumb?"Alexia asked innocently, placing a kiss on the back of your neck.

"N-no," you stammered as you tried to move, but her body was still pinning you down. "Brain size doesn't really determine intelligence…"

Alexia hummed against your skin, letting the book fall onto the bed with a soft thud. 

Now her full attention was on your neck, she was licking your skin before sucking the it into her mouth.

"I thought the bigger the brain, the smarter?" she murmured.

She sat up from behind you and turned you over, leaving you flat on your back. Then she kissed you deep and slow, biting your lip.

"No, it doesn't mean that," you mumbled, lifting your arms as Alexia pulled off your shirt, leaving your torso bare. "W-what is intelligence, after all, right? It's a very human construct and we…."

Your breath hitched as Alexia kissed your stomach, slowly making her way down to your navel, then she gently tugged at the waistband of your pants.

You lifted your hips, helping her in the process of getting you naked.

"Keep going, amor, "Alexia said, kissing you just above your underwear. "I don't want to distract you from your studies."

Her fingers slid down to your centre, where the wet spot of your underwear was. Your eyes were closed now, but you knew Alexia was smirking.

"What were you saying about intelligence?"Alexia coaxed, her voice innocent, as if she wasn't doing anything wrong, as if she really was helping you study.

But thinking about dinosaurs or intelligence or anything was nearly impossible as she hooked her fingers into the sides of your underwear and pulled them aside, exposing you completely. She slid her fingers just above your cunt, spreading your weteness slowly around your folds, teasing you.

You moaned as Alexia pressed just the tip of your finger inside of your cunt, your hips moving, begging for more contact, but Alexia didn't give in. She wanted to make you work for it for a bit.

"If you don't talk," Alexia said sternly, kissing the inside of your thigh, "I'll stop. Keep going. Tell me about the subject."

You were in silence, your brain mush. It was like you forgot you even knew any words, let alone the evolution of ornithischian dinosaurs.

Although you were quick to remember it when Alexia took her mouth away from your body.

You clutched at her head, pressing her against your cunt. 

"Please, keep going–"you whined. "I-I was saying that intelligence is a human parameter, and we shouldn't judge other species based on it because it's honestly a very anthropocentric concept…"

"There she is, my smart girl, "Alexia purred. And just like magic, she slid her index finger inside of you, and your body welcomed it immediately. "What else can you tell me about those Thy… Thry…"

"Thyreophora," You breathed as Alexia slid another finger in, thrusting into you so slowly it made you want to cry. "There are two major groups, th-" 

You didn't even get to finish, because you felt alexia's hot breath against your cunt, her mouth touching your clit, wrapping her lips aorund itand sucking gently. "Fuck–more." 

Alexia slapped your thigh; it didn't sting, but it was a warning.

"Keep talking." 

So you did.

Alexia ate you out slowly as if she was savouring every single drop of your wetness. You were very aware she was enjoying herself way too much; you also knew she was doing it as a form of revenge, too.

But you didn't mind for her motives, not when she kept fucking you like that. She only stopped when you stopped talking. 

She really was taking your studies very seriously.

Alexia's tongue was thrusting inside of you. You didn't know how she had mastered the ability to penetrate you so deeply with her tongue, but you (once again) didn't care.

Her hands were pinning you down on the mattress, clutching your hip bones, not letting you move an inch as she continued to thoroughly pleasure (or maybe torture) you.

It took you a while to cum, but not because Alexia wasn't giving you what you needed, but because your body had trouble switching from stressed, anxious and overstimulated to relaxed.

Alexia didn't say a word about it. She didn't make you feel bad that it was taking longer than usual. She just kept her mouth on your cunt, as if she had all the time in the word.

And when you finally came, it felt like your body had truly relaxed for the first time in days. 

You felt as if all of your muscles relaxed all at once. Your eyes rolled back, and you yanked at Alexia's hair with a little more force than you were intending to, but she didn't complain. 

You were trying to catch your breath when alexia finally lifted her face from your cunt. 

She made her way up your body, kissing your stomach and your breasts before (finally) kissing you, and sliding her tongue in to let you taste yourself.

"See," Alexia whispered as she broke the kiss. She lay her head on your chest, her finger gently tracing your face. "I was right."

"Rigth about what?" You barely manage to say. 

"Your face when you cum," She said against your sking, kissing your collarbone. "The pout, the furrowed eyebrows."

You blink, still pretty much dizzy. "Did you make all of this... too prove a point?"

"Maybe," she said, smiling. 

"I hate you," you murmured, closing your eyes and letting your hands run through her hair.

"You don't," Alexia said. "You just came in my mouth, I think that was a love confession, actually."

You chucked at Alexia's words. 

Maybe it was the oxytocin running through your body stream, or maybe it was the quiet realisation that this was the first time you and Alexia were properly intimate in days, mostly because of your schedule at uni and her schedule at Barcelona.

You surprised yourself by lowering your head and kissing her again, your hands slipping under her shirt to trace the back tattoos you knew by heart.

Alexia kissed you back–and what was a sweet kiss–turned into something urgent.

"I want you," you breathed against her mouth, your hand curling around the back of her neck. "Now."

"Yeah?" Alexia smirked. "How?"

"On your back, legs spread open," you said.

"Okay," she simply said.

She did what you asked of her. 

She lay down, but she winced slightly when one of your pens dug into her back.

You watched her for a moment, admiring her, and then you undressed her completely. You took her shirt off, and then her training bra.

You wrapped your lips around her nipples, sucking them until Alexia was gasping, asking for more.

Without wasting another second, you pulled down her shorts and underwear in one go. 

You spread her legs apart with each of your hands and began kissing the inside of her thighs, biting them softly,  leaving teeth marks where no one would see them.

You were in your moment now.  Feeling hot and heavy, watching Alexia's cunt dripping right in forn of your face, how pretty her cunt looked, how ready she was for you.

But just as you were ready to taste her, Alexia said.

"Do you want me to read your notes out loud while you do it?"

You paused, your mouth still slightly open, looking up at her. You truly had a problem reading her facial expression.

At the same time that it looked like she was teasing you, it also seemed like the proposal was sincere, like she might actually do it if you said yes.

You glared at her, your eyes narrowing, trying to make your point across without having to use any words.

"Okay," she said quickly. "I guess that's a no."

..

A/n: Got the dino infos on Wikipedia!

Tag list: @footy-lover264 , @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16 , @wosohk04 , @evaissleepy13 , @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics

[justarandomart]

rewatched 'Guardians of the galaxy' and this scene!! i just had to draw it as them!

[nonglukest]

RESET ★ 01.04

And what kind of hashtag will you create?

[joshusten]

wait...

[concretechrysalis]

One of the first incredibly demoralizing things that I learned as a new English teacher fresh out of college is that a lot of elementary school reading curriculum focuses almost exclusively on training students to pass an assessment tool designed to measure oral reading fluency rather than comprehension. Basically, that means that they teach kids to decode the letters on a page into their corresponding spoken sounds/words accurately and quickly, but they don't bother/have time to teach the part where they make genuine meaning out of it.

I taught sophomores and seniors who could read anything I put in front of them aloud with accurate pronunciation, but when I asked them what they thought about it, or what it meant, they'd just look at me like I was crazy because they were sure it was *my* job to tell *them* after they'd done their end of the deal by successfully replicating the words as they were printed. They knew the meaning of the majority of the words they decided, as well, but it was just word soup if the ideas were complex or nuanced, or if the length of the text was lengthier than a couple of paragraphs.

I'm not shitting on the kids. It wasn't their fault. It was the fault of the shit funding of their education system that was so underfunded that a curriculum that was designed to be the easiest way to pass the difficulty of teaching reading down the line to the next grade level teacher until finally there's some poor 23 year old rookie teacher telling a kid in their "Prep for College English" course that they literally can't read.

When kids can recite beautifully, everyone involved (parents, students, the community at large, policymakers, etc) feels satisfied that schools are teaching kids to read, but they don't have to give schools a lot of extra money and time on the soul of reading, which is making genuine meaning out of squiggles and dots on a page that, without explicit instruction, are totally unrelated to the spoken language that it's meant to represent.

We stayed within our slashed-to-ribbons yearly school budget *and* conditioned a generation of kids to defer to figures of authority to tell them what they need to know instead of using independent thought and critical evaluation. Can't get more American than that!

i'm not saying people shouldn't be reading more books, but i do think it's funny how many people thinking "reading comprehension" is just about how good you are at reading books and not like. criticial thinking skills.

[kxsagi]

Bllk boys with an s/o who somehow manages to make them fall asleep just by blasting sleepy phonk like they'd be wide awake and then sleepy phonk and they're knocked out cold and they question why every time ( kaiser, rin, shidou and anyone else you wanna add )

“𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐤 𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐥”

a/n: I THOUGHT THIS REQ WAS FUNNY

but i’m not really sure what sleepy phonk counts as, is it like the instrumental of roi by videoclub or the lost soul down by NBSPLV??? 

ft. kaiser michael, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, karasu tabito, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, bachira meguru

kaiser michael

you play one of those slow, mellow phonk songs with the deep bass and hazy loops, and he doesn’t think anything of it. he’s literally in the middle of dramatically trash-talking isagi when his body just… starts betraying him. 

his voice fades. eyelids droop. his upper body sways. 

“what the f– … why am i…” BONK. slumped sideways on the couch, dead asleep. 

you didn’t even notice, you were too busy wiping crumbs off your shirt. when you turn around he looks like someone hit him with a dart tranquilizer. 

wakes up four hours later like “who drugged me?” and you’re like “uh. the speaker?” 

absolutely refuses to believe it's the music. keeps blaming it on bad sleep or low blood sugar. 

tries to fight it like it’s a challenge. he’ll stare at you dead in the eye and go, “i won’t fall asleep this time.” cue you playing it again. three minutes later he’s dozing off mid-smirk. 

one time he got so mad he threatened to destroy your speaker. (he tripped over his own feet on the way and knocked himself out before he could.) 

itoshi rin

rin is fully convinced this is psychological warfare. 

he’ll be standing, talking to you normally, then you press play and suddenly he’s blinking slow as hell like he got rebooted. 

“wait. no. you’re doing it again.” 

tries to leave the room. doesn’t make it past the hallway. collapses dramatically like a fainting goat. 

once fell asleep in the middle of washing dishes. the faucet was still on. 

absolutely hates it. thinks it’s “unnatural.” starts researching “subliminal music control” and asks if you’re brainwashing him with some kind of audio hypnosis. 

he once accused you of trying to assassinate him with music. 

“turn that off. turn it off. my nervous system is shutting down.” 

refuses to let you have aux ever again in the car because last time he woke up in a parking lot two hours from home with a blanket on him and no memory of how he got there. 

shidou ryusei

cackles the first time it happened, he thought you laced his food. 

“you’re telling me you just played this… and my brain factory reset?” 

every single time he hears that beat drop, he immediately yells “NOPE NOPE NOPE. NOT THIS DRUGGED UP COWBOY MUSIC AGAIN–” then collapses mid-sentence like a tranquilized bear. 

literally wakes up mad. throws your speaker across the room while still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes like a grumpy toddler. 

tries to act like he’s too wild to be affected, then you catch him sleeping with the same sleepy phonk playlist under his pillow like it’s a bedtime lullaby. 

“listen i don’t need it, it’s just a vibe. you wouldn’t get it.” 

will absolutely start calling it your "sleepy black magic tape" and pretends he's scared of you. fake shivers and all. 

“my body associates your music taste with comas now. thanks, babe.” 

itoshi sae

you start playing it during a late-night drive, and within five minutes he’s gone. head slumped against the window. breathing soft. soul left his body. 

wakes up all confused like he just took a power nap in another dimension. 

“how long was i out? …why do i feel like i’ve been asleep for twelve years?” 

every time you play it again he tries to stay awake out of pure ego, but he gets so annoyed at how heavy his limbs feel. 

mutters a whole paragraph of insults under his breath before slipping into REM. 

eventually starts using it intentionally but won’t admit it. like he’ll go “i guess it wouldn’t kill me if you played that stupid zombie song again” right before bed. 

“i’m not addicted. i’m just being efficient.” 

pretends it’s annoying but secretly has the playlist saved on his phone under the name "🤨" 

karasu tabito

BRO STARTS DANCING TO IT AT FIRST. 

you’re like “karasu no” and he’s like “karasu YES.” 

and then two mins later he’s laying face-down on the floor like a body outline at a crime scene. 

wakes up, rolls over, and goes “yo did i die for a second orrrr…?” 

loves it though. finds it hilarious. he’ll literally set it as his own alarm so he wakes up and falls back asleep in a loop. 

“you don’t get it, babe. this music is laced. this is phonk fentanyl.” 

sometimes just asks you to play it to prove to people that it works. like he’ll invite bachira over and go, “watch this,” then collapse 60 seconds in like it’s a magic trick. 

he becomes the #1 believer that you’re a sleep witch. 

“this woman is dangerous. protect her. or let her drop a mixtape. either way we all win.” 

isagi yoichi 

isagi thought it was a coincidence the first time. “oh maybe i was just tired.” 

second time? “okay maybe i’m still tired.” 

third time? “wait a damn minute.” 

he gets so serious about it. starts journaling his sleep patterns. literally charts the timestamps of when the music plays and when he loses consciousness. 

“this is a phenomenon. i need answers.” 

he keeps trying to test it under different conditions like it’s a science project. “okay play it while i’m exercising.” falls asleep doing jumping jacks. 

one time he tried to fight it by drinking three energy drinks beforehand. the music still knocked him out. woke up with a headache and heartburn. 

“what is this sorcery?? this is stronger than melatonin AND ASMR combined.” 

eventually surrenders and asks you to play it when he has trouble sleeping. but only if you’re there. otherwise he gets paranoid and thinks he’ll wake up in an alternate timeline. 

nagi seishiro

honestly? he was already halfway to unconsciousness when it first happened. 

but the moment you played that dreamy, floaty phonk beat? instant deep slumber. like you enhanced his default settings. 

he didn’t even say anything. no reaction. he blinked slowly like a sleepy cat and just laid down right where he was standing. 

you were like “bro you good?” and he mumbled “yeh…” then snored 0.5 seconds later. 

he now refers to your playlist as the “ultimate sleep cheat code.” 

uses it on nights when even he feels too lazy to fall asleep naturally. 

“just play the thing. the lo-fi cowboy drug one.” 

weirdly enough, he becomes your personal sleep ambassador. 

you bring it up once around the blue lock team and he goes “it’s like being gently sedated by cloud ninjas. 10/10 experience. would die again.” 

if you’re gone and he can’t sleep, he’ll text: nagi: can you send the playlist nagi: the one that knocks me out nagi: i’m twitching like a windows xp shutdown screen over here 

has lowkey gotten emotionally attached to it. if someone else tries to play sleepy phonk, he gets offended. “no. only she can do that. it’s different.” 

bachira meguru

bachira thinks it’s funny as hell. 

“i’m like a dog with a whistle. only this one is a sleepy cowboy beat.” 

the first time he heard it, he got weirdly invested. like “oohh this is a vibe! what’s it called?” proceeds to pass out mid-groove like a light. 

you turn around and he’s in the fetal position under the table. 

he wakes up grinning like “that was so fun!! what happened?? do it again!!” 

he starts treating it like a carnival ride. asks you to “put him to sleep” like it’s a magic trick. 

“close the curtains, bring me a snack, and hit me with that sleep sauce 🛌🧃✨” 

you accidentally make him fall asleep in public once (you were just playing it on your phone during a train ride) and he collapses onto a stranger’s shoulder. 

you’re mortified. he wakes up three stops later, bows and goes “thank you for being my pillow today :)” 

he names the playlist. something like: “cowboy dream juice vol. 1 💀🐴✨” 

sometimes tries to rap over it and see how long he can stay awake. his record is one minute and 14 seconds. 

“this music is like a lullaby made by sleepy ghosts on synths. i love it.” 

© 𝐤𝐱��𝐚𝐠𝐢

[creativiteaa]

Mac from Date Everything is an innacurate wheelchair design, let's talk about it! Also, before anyone says, "they were going for a computer theme!" I am aware! That does not change that this is a bad design.

For anyone who does not know me, hello! I'm Solstice. I'm a full-time wheelchair user and functionally non-ambulatory. I know my way around a wheelchair considering I use one in my everyday life.

First off, Mac has a hospital style wheelchair. a hospital style is essentially any wheelchair you'd get or use in a hospital. I'd like to clarify that I know some disabled and chronically ill people use hospital style wheelchairs, but a lot of the time in media, depictions of wheelchair users show hospital style wheelchairs NOT for representation, but out of ignorance for active ultralightweight manual wheelchairs.

On the left is a Drive brand hospital style wheelchair. On the right is my personal custom wheelchair.

Mac's armrests are also disproportionate to the rest of the wheelchair. There are definitely people who have armrests on their custom wheelchairs! I have armrests but have taken them off, personally. The issue on Mac's wheelchair arises when their armrests are not only incredibly high, but their drive wheels (the big wheels in the back) are disproportionately small. And while on the topic of their drive wheels, they have no push rims, and no other features like a joystick to show that this is a power chair. The camber tube (tube between the two drive wheels under the seat of the chair) is also way too low. The camber tube goes towards the bottom of the wheel, not even the center of the wheels. Those drive wheels would be unable to roll.

Mac's castors are also very big. Castors can range in size but Mac's castors are so big I don't think that wheelchair could turn- the castors would hit either the footplates or the drive wheels! And with the castor assembly, Mac's castor has an axle system instead of a fork system. Those castors couldn't even turn because they can't freely swivel!

Mac's backrest looks hard and uncomfortable, and it's very tall. Some people need or opt to have high backrests, but this is not accurate to what a rigid backrest would be like. Mac also does not have a cushion, or a very tiny cushion, which would cause pressure sores and also just be uncomfortable.

I'd like to conclude that I hold no ill will towards the artist, designer, devs, fans, etc. But I did want to talk about this since Mac's wheelchair design feels like it wasn't researched much at all. I love that the devs wanted to include a disabled character, but you have to do research. I was really interested in playing this game but Mac's design really did turn me off from the game. I hope this is something that could potentially be amended.

My ask box is also open to questions, comments, concerns, etc.!

[cinnamon7girl7]

"WHAT'S MINE IS YOURS"

Being married to Satoru Gojo didn’t just mean sharing a bed, a house, or a last name. It meant sharing your life with someone who loved you absurdly — someone who never understood, and never will understand, the concept of boundaries.

You had your own missions.

Your cursed technique.

A well-built life long before you ever met him.

But from the moment you stepped into his world, Satoru decided that no part of you would ever be alone again. Not your exhaustion. Not your hunger. Not even your most simple little preferences.

The first time you said your feet hurt after a mission, a week later you had a high-tech imported massage chair with a smart footrest and a robe with your name embroidered on it.

One night, he canceled a meeting with his clan elders just to come back home, crawl into bed with you, and wrap his arms around you.

—The only urgent thing on my schedule is you —he whispered, without even taking off his coat.

His gestures were constant, subtle... and sometimes incredibly ridiculous.

Other times, if he found out you’d had a rough night, he’d wake you up with a breakfast cooked by private chefs in his kitchen.

Once, he spent over six million dollars just so you could see snow on your birthday for the first time… in the middle of August.

He had an entire climate-control system installed at one of his properties in Dubai, imported realistic artificial snow from Japan, and had a fake alpine village built in the garden.

The team helping him included meteorologists, movie set designers, and a group of dancers dressed as penguins who showed up at the end with an igloo-shaped cake.

—You said you wanted “pretty snow, like in the movies” —he told you with a proud grin, while you cried in your thermal robe and bunny-ear slippers.

—And I want every birthday of yours to be better than the last. So… get ready.

If he noticed you were quiet or down, he would shut down five floors of a luxury shopping mall just so you could walk around in peace, no crowds, no noise.

—The world’s being annoying today, babe. So no world. Just you… and the window displays —he’d say, carrying your bags like they weighed nothing.

Sometimes he even paid millions so that an amusement park would open just for the two of you for one night. Not because you loved the rides… but because you told him you’d never been to one as a kid. That night, he let you ride the Ferris wheel a thousand times, just to see you laugh.

And if he noticed you were happy… he gave you even more reasons to be.

Once, he hired Chanel’s head designer to make you a custom dress in less than 24 hours, just because you said “nothing I have fits for tonight’s dinner.”

Another time, he decorated an entire room just because he heard you say “I need a space just for me.” You didn’t say anything when you saw the library with new shelves, the aroma diffuser, the soft blanket on the perfect chair. You just hugged him.

—You deserve to be comfortable. Always. I don’t like that you’re unhappy in our little home because… I want to give you that. All of it —he said.

By “little home” he meant, of course, his modest three-story mansion with a Japanese garden, heated pool, and a walk-in closet that looked like it came out of a fashion magazine.

Because for him, the size of the place didn’t matter if you didn’t feel at peace there. And if that meant gifting you an entire tower just for yourself, he would do it again without hesitation.

Not even when he replaced all the chairs in the private cinema because you once mentioned that velvet irritated you. The next day, the furniture was soft leather, with cashmere blankets and a sound system that made you feel inside the movie.

Not even when he ordered croissants from Paris, flown in by private jet, because you joked that “nothing tastes the same since I came back from my trip.”

You didn’t question it when he planted a whole garden of flowers that only bloom at night, you said nothing. He just took your hand one early morning and led you outside, under the moon, to show it to you.

Or when he had a perfume made that smelled exactly like your freshly washed hair. He didn’t tell you. He just wore it one night when he had to travel, and when you hugged him, you felt your own scent wrap around you like an invisible ribbon.

Not even when he reserved a planetarium just for the two of you and rearranged the constellations to spell your name.

—Because there’s no star I find more beautiful than you, darling —he said, in a voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him.

And he meant it.

Not out of obligation, but as a personal desire —and you knew you couldn’t stop him. Not even when he bought you 10 identical pairs of Louboutin heels just because “he didn’t know which color you liked more.”

Not even when he bought a private island just because you said you wanted to “sunbathe without hearing people talking nearby.” He furnished the whole place in two days, with exclusive chefs, an endless bar, and a 3-meter-wide bed just so you could sleep like a queen.

And much less when he installed a heating system in your studio because you said, half asleep, “I hate when my feet get cold while I’m working.”

One night, while the city lights shone through the tall windows of his office, Satoru was reviewing papers with a half-finished glass beside him.

His phone vibrated on the desk. He answered without hurry, without even looking at the number.

—Gojo?

—Mr. Gojo, good evening —said the voice on the other end—. We’re calling to confirm a transaction attempting to process from your joint account with Mrs. Gojo. The amount is four million seven hundred thousand dollars. Do you authorize it?

He smiled, leaning back in his chair.

—Of course I do.

—Are you sure?

—If she’s the one buying it, don’t even ask me.

And he hung up with that calm of his, as if approving a multimillion-dollar purchase was as easy as breathing.

Because for Satoru, it didn’t matter what it was. If it was for you, it was always worth it.

One afternoon you came back from an exhausting mission. Everything hurt, you didn’t want to talk, just sleep.

But when you opened the door, you found something that left you speechless.

Lilies.

White lilies. Blue lilies. Oriental lilies, in big and small vases, marble flower pots, crystal bowls, and even in a teacup on the table.

There were petals on the stairs, tall stems in the corners, bouquets gently swaying with the breeze from the open windows.

The scent was delicate, enveloping. Familiar.

You walked among them with wide eyes, your heart racing, as if you had been transported to another world. In every corner, a small note:

“Here I took your hand for the first time.” “Here I realized I never wanted to let go.” “Here I knew you were my home.”

Satoru appeared at the end of the hallway. Smiling, without glasses, messy hair, wearing a light blue shirt half unbuttoned.

—Happy anniversary of the first “click” —he said—. I don’t remember what we ate that day… but I perfectly remember how your hand fit in mine.

And since then, I haven’t stopped wanting to repeat it.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

So you did the only logical thing: you threw yourself into his arms, among lilies, among notes with memories, and surrounded by the scent of a kind of love money can’t buy.

He held you like always: as if you were the only thing he’d ever let fall.

I’ll be posting a long feed about Streamer!Gojo tomorrow, so hope you enjoy this one for now!

[what-username-where]

I still have never started a relationship without being asked out BY someone, and then not believing them until they repeatedly tell me that yes they ARE actually serious

and then I spend the entire time thinking oh god oh fuck when is the other shoe gonna drop when are they gonna start laughing at me for being so gullible to believe they actually liked me and reveal this was all an elaborate prank the entire time or that they just found me useful enough to put up with and play along so I'd keep doing things for them

Which unfortunately the only people who ever asked me out were a pedo, an entitled manipulative self centered emotional abuser, and a wildly out of control mentally ill asshole

All of whom I got incredibly attached to and planned on marrying and building my entire life around because at least having someone to indulge my highly romantic sappy touchy self would be better than just yearning from the sidelines my whole life and watching other people get things I'd dreamed about being able to have but never thought would actually be possible for me

because there was something innately wrong with me that other people saw but I didn't and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't fix it or even identify the problem

so I had to give up everything I possibly could give in order to make myself worth putting up with for other people and if I didn't I would spend the rest of my life isolated and alone because no one would want to be around me unless I was of sufficient benefit and service to them

Needless to say none of my exes helped that feeling at all

I still struggle deeply with it and have slowly come to accept that my friends are here because they genuinely enjoy me

but I still have the intense problems around romance and romantic relationships and feeling like the only way I'll ever have something close to what I want is by doing it myself quite literally and relying on my system for it

which while being amazing and wonderful and I love my system so much it still has some things that are physically impossible to do and thus leaves me with a longing just the same, whether that's a longing for another body for them to inhabit or longing for another person to be romantically interested in me both of which feel equally impossible

because no other person could possibly want to be anything romantic with me without either not knowing what they're getting into and later wanting to back out or wanting to take advantage of me because they know I'll stick around serving them a feast if they toss a breadcrumb my way once in a while

Which no amount of logic and comforting and repeating positive phrases and reassuring myself "I don't need a romantic relationship to be fulfilled as a person and that's a really toxic attitude to have" has ever really made go away despite my best efforts and years of therapy both professional and self guided

Man if you did that bullshit as a kid where you fake asked someone out to embarrass them or said your friend liked them I hope that shit haunts you somewhere inside now. I hope you know that never leaves the person you did that too. I've been out of school for 8 blessed fucking years and I still do not believe people when they say they like me or are attracted to me. Doing that shit straight up makes you a bad person. You completely destroy someone's ability to perceive themselves as loveable.

[simjakesgirl]

drive in (18+)

synopsis: you and jake haven't seen each other for a while and decide to go see a drive in movie... warnings: afab reader, smut, dom!jake, brattamer!jake (sortaa??), sub!reader, degrading author's note: okay i haven't forgot abt my series but i am multi fandom and while digging through my drafts i found this old jake smut and it's kinda good lol..

you and jake went out to see a drive in movie, unsure of the last time you guys might’ve went on a date. you can guess the outcome of that, you were dying to just touch each other. jake, being a gentleman, tried his best not to go insane when you left the house in the tiniest skirt he'd ever seen. of course he also couldn’t tell you not to wear it because it was him that bought it for you. you knew exactly what you were doing though. it barely covered enough for his liking and you knew that it would drive him crazy. with so much comeback preparations, the only thing you got was phone calls when he was too fucked to even think straight and he needed to hear your voice.

it became obvious that you guys needed more as you both could barely pay attention to the movie. you noticed how jake would look over once in a while, not at your face of course and then quickly turn back to the movie with no focus on it whatsoever. his mind raced with things he wanted to do to you instead, but his restraint was strong. you couldn't help but look over at him too, taking in the way his jaw was tightly clenched and his hands fidgeted with each other. he looked too good and knowing that he wanted you just as bad as you wanted him was enough to tip you over the edge.

you then got the best idea possibly ever. you quickly checked your surroundings as jake’s eyes stayed glued to the movie. everyone seemed preoccupied, just enough for you to get away with your plan. jake drove a pretty old car, not because it was all he could afford or anything, but because he liked the style of it. the downside was the air system was pretty busted. it would only really work when it felt like working and jake constantly worried about overheating the car especially in summer, so he'd try and run the ac when it did work. you realized since you guys left that jake forgot your blanket that you'd use when he ran the ac since you preferred warmer temps. the plan was destined to work.

you began to fake shiver in your seat, rubbing against your arms and chattering your teeth just enough to make it look real. jake quickly took notice, shutting off the ac and turning to check the backseat.

“fuck,” he breathed out. you almost stop breathing at the sound.

he turned back to you, examining the way you shivered and looked up to him innocently.

“i forgot the blanket, i'm sorry,” he apologized sweetly, biting his lip while trying to think of a way to help you.

“it’s okay, jakey,” you pouted, trying to seem as innocent as possible even though your plan was far from it.

“here.” he removed his hands from his lap, gesturing you over with his fingers. “sit on my lap.”

you hid your smile the best that you could, climbing over the center console and sitting between his legs so you were facing the movie. he innocently kissed the top of your head before pulling you gently into his chest for comfort. you were inches away from what you needed, except you were unsure how to get the point across. he brought his hands to your legs, rubbing them to warm you up, but stopping inches away from where you needed him the most. you shifted around, purposefully rubbing against his dick a little bit to give him a hint. his breath hitched, but he didn’t do anything further, making you pout. you tried again, making it more obvious.

“here,” he lifted you up onto his thigh, putting his hand loosely around your waist so you couldn’t fall. “is that better?”

“..mhm” you hummed, lightly grinding yourself against him, fighting for release.

at this point jake knew what you were up to, but he didn’t want you to think it would be so easy. he’d let you continue and then stop you once you were close by moving his leg. tears began to bore at your eyes as your multiple attempt failed. you didn’t know why he couldn’t notice you needed him.

“why're you pouting like that, sweetheart?” he teased, turning back to the screen.

“jakey please.” you breathed out, your tears falling from your eyes at that point.

“what’s wrong, hm?” he started, his voice laced with fake comfort. “you wanna cum?”

you nodded quickly, looking at him with glossy eyes as he looked down on you with dark ones.

“tell me what you want.” he demanded, finding himself getting hard at your quivering lip and teary eyes.

he turned you around effortlessly, your back now facing the movie. you looked down, shy all of a sudden and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“i..i want you to fuck me jake…please.” you pleaded, just above a whisper.

“yeah?” you could hear the smirk in his voice. “that’s why you wore this little skirt to tease me and rubbed yourself against my dick like a whore? hm?”

you nodded, your face still buried in embarrassment.

“if you want it, you’re gonna speak to me like a big girl,” he said, bringing his hands to your arms and pushing you away from his neck.

you diverted your gaze, playing with the bottom of his shirt innocently, too shy to look at him. his hand quickly left your arm, holding your chin and pushing it up so you had to look at him.

“tell me then,” jake started again as if he was disciplining you.

his eyes locked with yours, making you shiver under his touch.

“i…i wanted to tease you,” you admitted, your cheeks getting hot under his gaze. “m’ sorry, please forgive me.”

your eyes welled up with tears and the pressure from trying to hold them back had you sucking in your breath.

“baby, i know you’re sorry,” he fake consoled you, rubbing his thumb against your bottom lip. “but you know how hard you made things for me?”

“yes,” you choked out, tears soaking your face from how bad you felt.

he stuck his thumb into your mouth, rubbing against the soft padding of your tongue.

“then tell me you’ll be good girl,” he demanded, his eyes flitting back up to yours.

he removed his thumb from your mouth, still holding your chin.

“i’m a g-good girl,” you repeated, just above a whisper.

“you can do better, do it again,” he demanded.

“i-i’m a g-good girl.” you repeated, louder but strained from your crying.

“stop crying, do it again.”

you whimpered, biting down on your bottom lip to try and calm down, but the frustration only made you want to cry more.

“please, jake, i’m a good girl.” you repeated once again, gripping the bottom of his shirt to put your frustration somewhere.

he reached down, unhooking your hands from his shirt to unzip his jeans. he pushed through his boxers to free his cock and you almost drooled at the sight, especially the way he ran his hand over it to jerk himself just a bit.

“you think you’re a good enough girl for it?” he questioned, his voice husky and strained.

you nodded quickly, looking up at him for a split second to meet his dark stare.

"you want it?” he asked.

you nodded again, trying to grab it, but jake grabbed your wrist tightly.

“nuh-uh, you want it, then you gotta beg me for it.”

you whined again, feeling yourself wanting to cry. your core was aching painfully, just wanting to be touched, but you couldn’t do anything about it. you pouted, trying to lightly grind yourself just barely against jake’s leg to ease the pain and clear your mind, but his hands came to your waist, holding you with such a grip, you couldn’t move.

“you really are a whore,” jake degraded, “can’t even spend two seconds without touching yourself. you see how pathetic that is?”

“jakey, please, i can’t think straight. i want it so bad, it hurts, please give it to me. please, daddy.” you babbled, not even registering half of the things you were saying.

“it hurts, baby? is that right?”

you nodded, taking shallow breaths to control your emotion. his cock visibly jumped, not that you noticed at all. you weren’t noticing much of anything at that moment. he knew it was past enough teasing for you, but now also for him.

“fuck,” he breathed out. “lay back for me.”

you laid back against the wheel as jake pulled your legs closer to him so he could see under the skirt. right away there was a dark wet patch against your underwear and his jeans. he pulled them off to the side, you now on display for him. he ran his fingers up your folds, noticing how sensitive you were from the slightest touch. you couldn’t help but moan when he touched you since you’d been waiting so long. he stuck two of his fingers in, watching your face as he slowly fucked them in and out. you wanted him to go faster, but you knew better than to provoke him at that moment. at least he was giving you something. he waited until you climaxed to even think about himself, his restraint wavering towards the end as he guided you through your high.

he spit on his dick, jerking with it before lining himself up. you looked at him with lidded eyes, almost too drunk on feelings to even keep them open.

“fuck,” he breathed out while he pushed himself in.

you moaned lightly, trying to keep quiet before anyone got suspicious, but jake didn’t seem to care. the way he had you, if anyone looked over they'd know exactly what was happening. slowly you forgot to care too, the way jake felt was just too good after so long without him in you.

“kiss me,” you strained out to him.

he pulled you towards him, kissing you and swallowing your sounds as they came. you tried your best to slowly ride him so the car didn't shake so much, but eventually jake got tired of it and took things into his own hands.

“feel good?” he asked through heavy breaths.

“yes, it feels so so good jakey.” you whined, feeling close already.

he took notice, bringing his thumb to your clit to bring you to your high. you tried to hold back, not wanting the moment to end just yet, but the sensation was too much.

"stop fighting it. be good and cum for me, sweetheart."

and that was all it took. before you knew it you were cumming all over his cock and he was pulling you off.

“wait, what about you?” you asked as he was still visibly hard.

“you know i can’t help but feel bad for you, baby, but it doesn’t mean that you can get away with anything. we still have to go home,” he explained, covering you up once again before himself “i didn’t even punish you yet.”

he gestured for you to sit back in the passenger seat and next thing you knew, he was pulling out of the lot...

[ave-draws]

the winner takes it all

[hope-for-the-planet]

I would like to know your thoughts on the increasing frequency that what is happening to our planet is being described as "climate breakdown" or "climate collapse". I find those descriptions to be far more fear inducing than just saying climate change and I assume that's deliberate for many campaigns who want to show the urgency needed in taking action. However I worry about the accuracy of those words, is it really breakdown and collapse? If so we really should be worried. But it is change, and change that we are learning to mitigate and adapt to, right? So why must they say it is collapse and breakdown. There is also the fact the scariness of those phrases will more likely scare people into inaction rather than action. Just interested to hear your thoughts on this

Hi Anon!

This has been a somewhat controversial issue lately, which I’ll briefly get into the reasons for. I personally prefer to use "climate change" for clarity. I'll warn you in advance that this is going to be another long one.

It’s not inaccurate to call the looming crisis a breakdown or collapse. We are taking action--more than a lot of people think and the speed of change is picking up--but if we did nothing the changes would eventually be beyond our ability to adapt. Climate change will wear away at the systems that maintain consistent and predictable weather, that our housing and agricultural systems are built around, and that preserve vital ecosystems.

We need to avert as much climate change as we possibly can to minimize the human suffering and damage to our world. It is also something we are already adapting to and will continue to adapt to since some warming has already happened. We have solutions for adaptation and more are in the works, but communities that don’t have as many resources to devote to adaptation are already and will continue to be hardest hit by climate impacts.

That being said, there is a lot of argument about whether changing the term to something more urgent actually increases the likelihood of action. A recent study showed that using terms like “environmental breakdown” or “climate crisis” increased emotional responses compared to "climate change", but in some demographic subgroups this increased emotion actually produced a negative backlash reaction. A similar study in Taiwan found that overall the terms "climate crisis" and "climate change" had similar reactions but for some demographic subgroups "climate crisis" negatively impacted perception and action.

Another more recent study found that there was less perception of urgency or importance when using terms other than “climate change” that participants weren't as familiar with. Most people more or less understand what climate change is and what the stakes are��changing the term can just confuse them.

There’s also the issue of crisis fatigue—humans can only spend so long in emergency mode before they will burn out on it. Climate change is something everyone living on earth now will need to deal with for the rest of their life—we need to act urgently but hitting people with “this is an emergency if we don’t act now everyone will die” can actually hurt credibility and buy-in as time passes and the crisis worsens but does not deteriorate into everyone dying. We need sustainable support and action, not surges of panic followed by apathy when the apocalypse doesn’t immediately materialize.

I'm personally a big fan of finding ways to talk about climate change and environmental damage without using politicized buzzwords like "climate" or "environment" since that can sidestep the knee-jerk reaction some people have to those topics--either of identity threat or of fearful shutdown.

So that is my two cents. Climate change is scary enough on its own and turning up the emotional volume of the alarm doesn't necessarily actually translate to more action--like you said it can just make people so fearful that they shut down.

This article does a really good job of covering the many different perspectives in this space:

[waitingin4-4time]

So around about 2017 I started losing weight without going to the gym or making a big change to my diet. I called it the shitty job diet because my employer had been purchased by some venture capitol assholes and became a pretty shitty job pretty quickly.

In 2018 I quit that job, got a new one, and got a dog. I started walking 5 or 6 miles a day because my dog refused to go home unless we walked for like 2 hours a night. I was drinking so much water, and loosing so much weight.

In 2019 I was still losing weight, still walking the dog, still drinking so much water (and peeing all of the time), my feet were so dry and cracked you could fit a penny in there like a tire tread test. I had a sinus infection that just kept coming back.

And then I got hit by car while walking the dog. She was fine. My toes were not pointing the right direction at the end of my leg.

So I got my first ambulance ride and the attention of a lot of medical staff. One of fine folks in the ER asked me why my blood sugar was 300. I didn't know and was more worried about my very broken leg.

During my week in the hospital I did get to talk to a nutritionist about what foods have carbohydrates and why they are bad. I also spent less than 5 minutes with an endocrinologist who diagnosing me with type 2 diabetes without asking me a single question. I was still almost 200 pounds obviously it was type 2.

Metformin and kicking a decades long pepsi addiction worked for a bit, until it didn't. Obviously I just needed to really check those nutritional labels and get more exercise (with the limp and sometimes the cane).

In 2021 my doctor sent me to the office pharmacist to talk about a once weekly shot for the fat diabetics who can't control their A1c. We had a conversation that lasted more than 5 minutes. She said hey that sounds like LADA I'm going to order some tests.

Turns out I've got GAD Antibodies. Turns out no amount of hitting the gym and no carb dieting was going to fix my A1c. Turns out LADA is what you call it when doctors can't recognize Type 1 diabetes when it shows up in an over weight 30 something instead of a kid or a skinny person. Turns out I probably did give myself diabetes, but it wasn't pepsi and donuts. It very well might have been working through the flu for the shitty venture capitol assholes that convinced my immune system to start trying to kill me.

Anyway, this is all to say that it should be socially acceptable for me to kick people in the shins (or hit them with my cane when I have it handy) if they make jokes about food choices and diabetes.

This is Lulu she still doesn't want to go home until we've walked at least an hour.

damn people rly hate type 2 diabetics don't they

[antithetical-bolter]

Hi everyone, here’s a WIP that fell out of my brain tonight.

4.5k words | Robby x Original Female Character

Seasoned ER nurse Iris had been treated to the best sex of her life almost exactly a month ago - from the attending she’s been low-key in love with for longer than she’d like to admit. Now, she’s sitting in her bathroom staring at three separate positive pregnancy tests. Unfortunately for her, Robby had dipped before she woke and has all but ghosted her since.

Title TBD? Pls suggest Taylor Swift themed titles if you have any.

This is the second fic I’ve ever posted anywhere and my first time posting to tumblr so pls be kind to me (but still tell me if you hate it), It’s also very much a first draft with minimal editing so keep that in mind

Well, shit.

That is most definitely two pink lines.

On three different tests. Iris Elizabeth McDowell, you fucking idiot.

Just my fucking luck, that getting tipsy and fucking the very hot and vey emotionally unavailable attending would result in a god damn pregnancy. I’d been blissfully ignorant the last 6 weeks, my periods have never been all that regular but as soon as the nausea and the sore boobs hit I knew it was time to face the music. And sure enough, the music was telling me that I was pregnant. With Michael Robinavitch’s baby.

Robby, who has barely made eye contact with me past what was required for patient care since it happened. Robby, who let it slip at the bar that he had been interested in me for months now. Robby, who I was unfortunately in love with. Had been for an embarrassingly long time now, so him up and leaving the morning after the best sex of my life triggered a full blown crisis. Almost a decade of pining, all for one (admittedly spectacular) night. He briefly had me considering switching jobs, but decided I wouldn’t let a man dictate my life. Even if it was that man.

Do I want to keep it? I think so. Should I want to keep it? Probably not.

It’s not like I’m some young new grad nurse who doesn’t have a career. I’ve been an ER nurse for 10 years now, working at the Pitt for all but the first two. I occasionally fill in for the charge nurses, I’m damn good at my job, and I have a great support system. But the thought of having to tell Robby that I’m carrying his child? Genuinely makes me want to puke. Again.

I have money, a 2 bedroom condo, a regular enough schedule that daycare wouldn’t be an issue. But do I really want to be a single mom? Put my body through the fucking wild ride that is pregnancy? Oh god. Pregnancy scrubs? The absolute worst. Not to mention actually giving birth.

Thankfully, the universe has seen fit to give me a single win in all this, and I have the next 4 days off to figure out how to be normal at work again. First order of business - call my OB. A brief phone call later, I have an appointment for 9:45. Just over two hours from now.

Fuck, I could really use my mom right now. Not like we were ever super close, with her living on the west coast and me getting the fuck out of my tiny ass hometown right after high school, but I’d like the option to call her and freak out. Both her and my dad were killed in a car accident just over three years ago, and somehow this scenario had never crossed my mind. Cue the tears - but they feel cathartic. A release I desperately need right now.

My therapist is going to lose her ever-loving mind. A quick look on her patient portal reveals that she has an opening this afternoon, so I guess that makes 2 wins from the universe for me today. I’ll take what I can get.

***

I am very picky about my medical providers. Working in the field myself means I have seen some shit doctors, and I just flat out refuse to put my care in the hands of someone I don’t trust. My OB is the best of the best, and she’s really earning her copay right now.

The transvaginal ultrasound was quick, confirming that I definitely have something cooking in there. The tech asked if I wanted to hear the heartbeat - but I said no. I’m right at the six week mark so a heartbeat can be heard at this point but I am not ready for that just yet. Not until I decide what I want to do. My OB, bless her, ran me through all of my options. She knows I know them, I’m an ER nurse after all, but it’s like all my schooling and experience fell out of my brain the second the stick(s) turned pink.

She encouraged me to take my time in making a decision. I have a few weeks to make a choice either way. We went through what it would look like to keep, terminate, and adopt. Having all the information laid out in front of me makes me feel both better and far worse.

She also tells me that no matter what the father wants, this is my choice. That I should lean on my people, and find someone I trust to tell. That if I do decide to terminate, I need to have someone with me after I take the medications to make sure everything progresses as it should.

I leave the appointment armed with 4 different pamphlets and 3 sonogram images that I have yet to look at.

Therapy is significantly harder. Erica, bless her, has been my therapist since I moved to Pittsburgh for college almost 15 years ago. She knows me far too well. Immediately clocks that it must be hard to be dealing with all of this without my mom’s support, which triggers a crying spell. Once I’ve recovered from that, we move on to how I’m going to tell Robby.

“I don’t know, Erica. He has barely looked at me since we slept together, I can count the non-patient related words he’s said to me since then on one hand and none of them were particularly nice.” That man needs therapy more than anyone I’ve ever met. He’s an incredible doctor and great to his friends, but ever since he fucked up his relationship with Collins so badly that she left the state he’s been especially moody.

“How do you think he’s going to react to this?”

“Not particularly well. He’ll freak out, not speak to me for a few days, and then inevitably come back around and say that he’ll help me with whatever I choose. I know that if I decide to keep it that he would help, but that it would be out of obligation and that is not what I want. I would never keep him away from his kid, but I can almost guarantee that I would be eternally fucked up over it.” Erica nods thoughtfully, taking a pause to formulate a reply that won’t send me over the edge.

“Maybe you should start by telling someone else, then. Maybe Samira, or Dana? Someone who will support you unconditionally without any emotional baggage taking up space in the back seat. They could help you decide what to say when you tell him, and support you if it goes as poorly as you think it will.” She gives me a very pointed look before continuing. “Also, and really think about this before brushing it off, maybe this conversation between you and Robby will help you both. A push that requires communication where there is a gap right now.”

“I - I, ugh. I just really, really don’t want to have to do this with him. He really hurt me when he just up and fucking ghosted me. Especially because he spent the whole night prior telling me that he’s been wanting to kiss me for months, and a whole bunch of other shit that he clearly didn’t mean.” He doesn’t seem like the type to spout bullshit to get a woman into bed with him, but I really cannot come up with another reason for him to be acting this way.

“It’s fair and reasonable for you to be scared. And if he screws this up, you have my blessing to tell him to fuck off. But no matter what you choose, you will be okay. It might suck for a while, but you will come out the other side.” The unspoken words are loud - that I will be okay but that it’s going to take a while for me to get there.

“I know you’re right but it’s hard to see right now.” Pretty much impossible, actually.

“That’s okay, I’m here to remind you. Your homework this week is to tell someone you trust.” Sad that I don’t consider the father someone I trust, but he definitely is not making that list right now.

“I’m going to call Dana literally as soon as we hang up - Samira’s working right now.” She nods in response, flashes me what I’m sure is supposed to be a reassuring smile but it just doesn’t land. We schedule an appointment for next week and then we hang up. I give myself 10 minutes to spiral before I pick up the phone and call Dana.

***

Dana picks up her phone on the third ring.

“Hey, kid! Where are ya?” I can hear the sounds of what is likely a bar or restaurant in the background and belatedly realize that there’s ER social plans today - most of day shift is gathered at the sports bar near the hospital to watch the first Penguins game of the regular season. Hockey is one of the few sports I will watch voluntarily, and I definitely told Dana I would try and make it out tonight.

“Shit, Dana. I totally spaced, had a bit of a personal crisis. Can I call you later? When you aren’t surrounded by our coworkers?” I hear a booming laugh in the background and immediately place it as Robby’s. Just my fucking luck. “Can you just, uh - text me when you leave the bar?”

“No, Iris, wait. Are you okay?” Her voice changes, drops lower and sounds muffled. Like she’s covering her mouth while she speaks in an effort to afford me some privacy. She knows something happened between Robby and I, and has had a front row seat to whatever the fuck is going on right now so she’s sensitive to the fact that I might not want him knowing about said personal crisis.

“I mean, okay is not really the word I would use but I’m safe and not currently in any physical danger.” Very much not okay, but I don’t want to make her change her plans for me. It’s so rare that we’re all able to see each other outside the Pitt and I know she values this time with her friends.

“Iris, honey. What’s wrong?” I don’t answer, but I do start to cry. My best efforts at keeping my sobs quiet are unsuccessful. “You know what, never mind, I’m just gonna come over. Hang tight, okay?” I hear the screech of a chair as she scoots back and presumably stands up. Her voice is quieter as she speaks next, having moved the phone so she can talk to whoever else is at the table. “Change of plans, guys. I have to go. Enjoy the game and I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The crying has not slowed in the thirty seconds it takes her to get outside.

“Dana, really, I appreciate it but you can stay and finish the game. I can wait.” I must not convince her, because she laughs at me. Fairly so, given that my words are very much broken up by sobs.

“Absolutely not. I’m on my way, I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

She arrives in eight.

I’m waiting by the door, and open it before she has a chance to knock. I’m still crying - no longer sobbing, but a pretty steady stream of tears track their way down my cheeks. I see the question forming on her lips but I beat her to it and hold out my three positive tests for her to see.

“Are we happy? Shopping? Making an appointment at the clinic?” Classic Dana - no big reaction, just thoughtful statements of action. Unfortunately I don’t know what I want.

“I don’t know yet. Took the tests early this morning and was able to get in last minute to see OB this morning to confirm it. I’m just about 6 weeks along and I have no fucking clue what I want to do.” She closes the door behind her and immediately pulls me into a tight hug. Rubs my back with one hand and runs the other through my hair, tells me that it’s okay to not know what I want and that she’s here for me no matter what. Does not ask me who the father is. Unfortunately that is the biggest piece to this puzzle and I know I need to tell her.

We move to my couch and she makes me drink some water before continuing to fill her in. I decide it’s best to just fucking do it - no preamble and no backstory.

“Robby’s the father.” That stops her in her tracks for a second. Her eyes go wide and I can tell she’s working extremely hard to keep her own emotions under wraps.

“Well, shit. So that ‘thing’ that happened between you guys in August was sex?” I nod. “And, let me hazard a guess here, he freaked the fuck out and now he’s unable to act normal around you.” I nod again.

“That about sums it up. He left before I woke up and any effort I made to talk to him about it ended with him getting snippy and walking away from me. My texts went unanswered so I just stopped trying.”

“What an asshole - I’m so sorry, Iris.” She leans over to pull me into another hug. “Are you going to tell him?”

“I mean I kinda have to, don’t I? Would be a real dick move of me to not tell him about this. Even if he doesn’t deserve me speaking to him ever again.”

“I think that depends on what you decide you want to do. If you want to keep it, then yeah you’re gonna have to tell him. But if you don’t, then we go to the clinic this week and he remains none the wiser. Either choice is okay, whatever you decide to do will be the right decision for you.” I take a deep breath, enjoying having her here to support me.

“See that’s the thing, my first instinct is that I want to keep it. I’ve always thought that I could go either way on having kids, but now that it’s staring me in the face I can’t imagine not going through with it.” Saying it out loud all but confirms my decision - this is happening. I’m going to have a baby. And I’m going to have to tell Robby.

“Then that’s what will happen. I’ve got your back through all of it, and if you want me to hide upstairs while you tell Robby I can do that. I’ll even chase him out if he acts a fool.” She’s serious, and I love her for that.

“Might not be a terrible idea. The last thing I want is for him to be involved purely out of obligation.” I debate stopping there, not divulging the depths of my (unadvised) feelings for him, but I’ve already gone this far so what’s the harm. “I’m like, stupidly in love with that man. Have been for a long time, and I was happy to have it kinda live in the background of my life up until recently. He approached me at that party we had for Jesse and we hit it off, and he was really sweet. Told me that he’s been wanting to kiss me for months and that he hasn’t been able to get me out of his head. We each had a few drinks, but I wasn’t drunk. A little tipsy for sure, but sober enough to consent and be smart about it. Then he was gone when I woke up and you’ve seen how he’s been since then.” She grimaces a little before responding.

“Yeah, he’s been in rare Robby form. Very broody. But, Iris, I really think he meant what he told you. Handled it terribly for sure, but he’s so thoroughly fucked up in the past that his ex literally left the state. He’s probably just trying to protect you in his own, very fucked up way.” I laugh and try to wipe away the tears staining my face, but they just keep coming.

“Well he’s doing a terrible job. Is it crazy of me to make him go to therapy before I let him really be involved? Is that, like, blackmailing?” The last thing I want out of all this is for my kid to be hurt in the same way - their dad hot and cold, unable to really make a commitment to be present in their life.

“Maybe a bit, but I fully support you in that. I actually think that’s plenty reasonable, and if he gives you pushback then he’ll hear about it from me.” So quick to jump in and support me, even when the problem is one of her best and longest friends. “If it makes you feel any better, the second I said your name at the bar earlier he looked like he was two seconds away from taking my phone and checking on you himself.” A mirthful laugh escapes me at that, it does not make me feel better.

“Then blackmail it is. Now, how the fuck am I supposed to have this conversation with him when I can’t even get him to say three consecutive words to me that aren’t directly work related?”

We spend the next hour brainstorming, and by the time she leaves I feel better. I have a loose plan, my tear ducts have long since run dry, and I no longer feel like I’m about to fuck my whole life up.

I make myself a list before I go to sleep - things I need to buy for first trimester health, food I should avoid, and symptoms I’ve been experiencing so I can be as informed as possible.

My list exhausts me (that, and the tiny human I’m currently cooking) and I fall into a blissful, dreamless sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

***

I spend the next three days making more lists. Baby names, furniture, birth plans. If there’s a relevant list to be made - it’s currently up on my fridge.

My first day back at work since The Event (TM) is fine, I guess. Dana greets me with a hug and a quiet check in, and while this isn’t that out of the ordinary it is unusual that she pulls me off the floor to do it. I feel Robby’s eyes track us as we walk back in from the ambulance bay, especially when we get closer and Dana does not smell like she’s just come back from a smoke break.

I treat Robby to his own taste of the silent treatment. No niceties, no attempts at small talk. Strictly patient care and work related conversations, and honestly conversations is a generous word. Terse exchanges is more accurate. I don’t let it get in the way of my job, and if I do say so myself I really knock it out of the park nursing wise.

Three shifts pass in this manner, three shifts where I can feel him fucking watching me like he knows something is up. Thirty-six hours of me sitting on the biggest fucking secret I’ve ever kept when all I really want to do is yell “Hey, fuckface! You ghosted me and it sucked, and I’m fucking angry about. By the way, I’m pregnant with your child. Get some god damn therapy if you’d like to be involved!” And then walk out, leaving him to stand with the aftermath of his actions.

But, unfortunately, I am professional adult so I don’t do that. I do heavily fantasize about it though.

Samira notices that something is up right away, but she is also on a long stretch of shifts so we agree to hang out when our work weeks are both done. We meet for breakfast at the closest Denny’s and she spits her coffee out when I tell her that not only did I sleep with Robby, but that there’s going to be literal life long consequences for it come early June.

“Oh my god. I would ask if you’re okay, but I think I can answer that myself. When are you going to tell him?” I shrug as I finish my bite of French toast.

“Great question. He’s been fucking frosty towards me lately and it doesn’t have me feeling very generous towards him. I know he deserves to know but god the thought of that conversation makes me want to punch a wall.” Another bite of toast. “I know that a few weeks after we slept together was the anniversary of Pitt Fest and Adamson’s death, but the way he’s been treating me does not make me want to tell him. It makes me want to be spiteful and keep it from him until the last possible second, so he can be as blindsided as I feel right now. Very immature of me, and I won’t do that but it’s nice to entertain it for a bit.”

“He’s clearly fumbling the bag pretty hard right now, but you and I both know he’s going to do the right thing.”

“I know, and that’s almost worse. If he’s going to be all emotionally constipated while attempting to be present I am going to lose my shit. Dana said she thinks I am well within my rights to threaten him with therapy, so I think that’s my game plan.”

“That’s - that’s actually a great idea. If anything will get that man into therapy it’s the threat of potentially fucking up his child’s life.” She chuckles a bit. “Can I tell Jack? I will obviously swear him to secrecy but it might be nice to have him in your corner.”

“Please do - but if he tells Robby before I do I will kill him.”

“And I will help you hide the body. Also, he’s picking me up from this meal so if you’d like to fill him in yourself you’re about to have your window.” Like she summoned him, Jack Abbot walks in the door. He immediately finds Samira and she waves him over.

I decide that I do not have another long, emotional story in me and just spit it out.

“Hi, Jack.” He looks at me a little weird, we’re friendly at work but I don’t think I’ve ever called him by his first name before. “Welcome to the party, you’re about to hear some very classified information so prepare yourself.” He stares at me, a little stunned, but I just keep on talking. “I’m pregnant and keeping it. Robby’s the father, but I haven’t told him yet.” His jaw drops open, and he has to open and close it a few times before actual words come out.

“Uhhh, wow. Fuck. Are you, uhm, are you going to tell him?”

“I mean, yeah. Not sure when or how, but yeah. What’s your opinion on me using this as an opportunity to threaten him into therapy?” This gets a loud, genuine laugh from him.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. You want my therapists number? I’ve given it to him multiple times but he’s clearly never used it.” Abbot doesn’t wait for me to answer, just pulls a card out of his wallet and hands it to me. “Are you doing okay? Managing symptoms alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks. Freaking the fuck out, but okay.” With that, I decide I’ve had enough social interaction for the day. “Now that all that’s out of the way, I’m going to head home. Samira, love you, thanks for the support, and Jack I’m a little sorry to drag you into all this but thankful that you’re here anyway.” I leave them at that, dropping enough cash to cover my meal and all but running to my car so I can have my next meltdown in peace.

***

I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I let another two full weeks pass before I even consider telling Robby. Erica, Dana, and Samira are all on my case a little bit but ultimately don’t push me too hard.

It takes an extra long session with Erica, complete with roll play and multiple outcomes of the conversation for me to feel even slightly ready to broach the subject with him. We decide that I’ll attempt to talk to him after our next shift together, a rare night where neither of us have to be in the next morning.

Dana knows, and as she leaves out the ambulance bay doors she shoots me a very encouraging thumbs up and a ‘call me!’ While I wait for him to leave. I don’t have to wait much longer. 10 minutes pass before I see him walk out, backpack slung over his shoulders and thick winter jacket thrown on like it’s armor. He doesn’t turn his head to look at me as he passes.

I parked at the very end of the lot today, hoping to use my car as an excuse to follow him for a bit. As we approach my green Honda CRV, I know it’s time to bite the bullet.

“Hey, uh, Robby? Can we talk for a sec?” He pauses, takes an AirPod out, and turns to face me. He looks like shit. Tired, like he hasn’t had a good sleep in weeks. I feel mean for thinking it, but I’m glad he’s getting just as much (little?) rest as I am.

“I’ve got somewhere to be, Iris. Now’s not a good time.” He maybe facing me, but he’s not really looking at me. Fucking infuriating.

“It won’t take long, please. It’s kinda important.” Fuck him for making me plead to have a conversation - this is starting to feel a little humiliating. I can feel the tears forming and threatening to spill out, but he isn’t looking at me so he doesn’t see them.

“Not now. There isn’t really anything for us to talk about. I have to go, I’ll see you later.” And with that, he’s got his AirPod back in and is walking away. Fucking dick. The hot sting of rejection sits heavy in my chest, and I have to take a few minutes before I feel steady enough to drive home.

I work myself up pretty well on the way home, moving from shame to anger. I kick my shoes off in the entry way and slam my bag down, feeling like I need to scream. I decide a run will suffice and quickly change into my running gear. As I slip on my shoes and grab my running belt I decide there’s something I need to do first, and pull my phone out to send the riskiest text I’ve ever sent.

Iris (7:58pm)

Hi, asshole. I have been working up the nerve to talk to you for weeks, but since I apparently don’t deserve even five minutes of your time I guess this is how you’re going to find out.

I attach a picture of the tests and hit send, and then immediately send a follow up.

Iris (7:59pm)

Before you have the fucking audacity to ask, yes it’s yours and I’ll be keeping it.

I immediately put my phone on do not disturb and start my watch so I can track my run. I hit the pavement with a vengeance. My feet feel heavy beneath me, and it takes me longer than usual to feel warmed up enough to really run. I play my angriest playlist, and run until I no longer feel like murdering the father of my unborn child.

I hit my favorite smoothie place on my way home, and as I walk and warm down I call Dana.

“So I told him.” She gasps. “But, uh, over text. I tried to talk to him as he left but he blew me off and I was just so fucking angry and maybe jumped the gun a little, but it’s done now.”

“How are you feeling about it, hon?”

“Terrified. Have not checked to see if he’s responded. A little elated? But like, in a manic way so maybe that’s not a good thing.” Dana laughs and reassures me.

“It’s alright, kid. That’s a big step you just took and you tried to do it in person, so fuck it. You want me to come over?” She asks, just as I turn the corner onto my street. My heart all but stops as I see an unfortunately familiar suburban parked in front of my house, and my breathing stops with it when I see that the man himself is sitting on my front steps.

“Ah fuck.”

“He’s at your house, isn’t he?” She’s far too smart for her own good, or maybe she just knows him too well.

“Yup.” God dammit, past Iris. Did you really have to send those texts?

“I can still come over if you want.” Seriously considering taking her up on that.

“No, I’ll handle him. But, maybe later? If and when I need to cry about this?”

“I’ll be waiting by the phone. You’ve got this, kid. Give him hell.”

[mediocremillie99]

Sleeping In

Emmrich and Annika spend a not-so-lazy morning in bed...

Can be read as a standalone or as a sequel to From the Journal of Emmrich Volkarin.

Thank you so very much to @svanha for this absolutely gorgeous work of art of Emmrich and Annika 😍 The details are incredible, and I love how she even put Annika's little freckle on her upper lip. ❤️

I needed a spicy lil one shot out of my system before I get into the heavier chapters of Beach Episode that are incoming.

Thank you to the Fade and Lighthouse servers for being amazing ❤️