#I have more these are just all the ones I have the mental capacity to explain

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

still fucked up? here's a pick a pile reading.

pile 1. pile 2. pile 3.

a pick a pile reading inspired on sundays being the longest and most tedious day of the week. i never know what to do on a sunday other than overthinking and feeling sort of gloomy.

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· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ – • · Pile 1 · • – ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Honestly, I really dig this combination of cards. I feel like this Page of Wands is asking you to take a different approach when thinking of success. It's clear that you value material and spiritual achievements equally, but you see them as something that's too far away from your reality. I think that it is very important to recognize that you are guarded by energies that match your ambitions, and you are doing things right to become the person you wish to be. 

Other than that, it is also relevant to think of the dissonances and miscommunications that can cause you trouble when trying to face any obstacles in your journey. The Emperor and The High Priestess are both equally strong in their own ways. Both of these energies are present in your life, and they happen to be complete polar opposites, the peak of male energy and the peak of female energy. Balancing both with every step you take is difficult, therefore it's understandable if you choose to focus on one or another depending on the moment. Ideally, these two should be able to communicate with one another, so you don't betray the nature of one taking actions more suitable to the other. 

In order to do this, I'd say that it's a great moment to look at the world with child-like eyes; allow yourself to be amused and ruled by curiosity, enrich your life with first time experiences and find joy in spaces where your creativity is nurtured. Don't assume that your learning years are over. 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ – • · Pile 2 · • – ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Okay, this is a tough one. Stay strong bestie. So… Clearly that Ten of Swords is about something in your head that has caused major negative impacts on your life. I wouldn't say it's mostly about emotional distress by itself, but instead I think it's more about the prevalence of dysfunctional thought processing patterns that are being ignored or mishandled in the social and emotional parts of your life. It seems that a deep understanding of your own sensitivity hasn't been enough to cope with this. 

But, it's not all bad, as the presence of both Kings, Wands and Cups, show me that the maturity and strength is there, what's lacking tho, is a more solid sense of trust on the logic presented by sources outside your own head. Feeling trapped and buried by your own thoughts, it's common enough that you can share them with trusted ones surrounding you in order to appease feelings of doubt and desperation. 

This combination of cards shows me that you have the capacity to move from this thought provoked stagnation, to move from a mental eco chamber of negativity. To accomplish this you should aim to build more solid relations based on nurturing each other's potential and emotional strength. Don't be doubtful when taking the first steps towards what you already know you can do for bettering yourself and others. Stop being confident in negative thoughts and begin being confident in positive ones, even if you need help beginning to do so. 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ – • · Pile 3 · • – ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Well, one is not bad but it’s not that good either. I think the main topic of this spread is to remain cautious when material success is achieved, in order to not cause yourself emotional and spiritual harm. Sometimes our material achievements can be directly related to spiritual growth, yet, we can not deny that the energy we spend on creating success for ourselves is just as valuable as the energy we spend on our spiritual journeys. In this case, the Seven of Pentacles shows me that your sense of purpose, in resonance with patience and determination, will bring great satisfaction as long as you take time to reflect and rest from the hard work. 

Nonetheless, be careful with who you choose to be generous with. There’s nothing wrong with providing a helping hand, but make sure that those who receive it understand the value of your hard work and are not there to deceit you by playing victims. Keep an eye on anything that is causing you doubts on your enterprises, and do not fool yourself with ideas and proposals that come from unrealistic perspectives. This is a great moment to reflect on the ways your energy is being received by others. The main priority should be your well being and your stability first. You can’t give to others if you can’t provide for yourself.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ – • · FIN · • – ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

hey there, im gigi i did this tarot thing, hii. hope this was at least fun to read i guess? im just chilling with the cards and writing. thinking about making a introduction post but then idk... like i love this blog and i love tumblr so im like ayyy i get to practice my english and get back into tarot? slay. like i swear

im kinda rusty with tarot's rn but hopefully eventually I'll get back on it like i used to so i guess that if someone wants to follow me in case i open my questions inbox to answer questions with the cards and stuff that could be nice.

ugh and im also putting together a nicer space for the readings, my desk is full of paint stains (my normal job is art related lol) and there's always a university thing peaking from the side of my desk, it's like my notes are watching me while i kinda ignore them...

anyways i got like 40 notes on my first post, soooo thaaaanks omg i was so like nervous about it i hate that im this kinda shy to post tarot content anynomously like wtf how can i be like that when im posting nasty thirst traps on my personal instagram with no context?? the duality of women i guess. okay this is too much venting

bye thanks for reading, stay bad, stay focused, might post a card of the week PAC reading later seee yaaaa love yaaa

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Had a terribly great thought! The Ghoul and reader traveling together. She's a brat but loyal as a dog to that man. They get into a pretty bad fight and she storms off and he's too proud to follow after her, struggling with coming to terms that he's actually soft for her even though he's mean as hell. She finds him some days later, with her tail tucked between her legs. He's not surprised, comparing her to a female dog often. 👀 still, he's going to make sure she's sorry. Lots of groveling on her part, maybe some face slapping, boot licking, he gets off, she doesn't. Ends with her in his lap. Hair petting and praise for coming back to who she belongs to.

As A Dog

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 7,085

Warnings: smut (18+), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Jealous!Cooper, canon-typical violence, intimacy issues, angst, insecurity, slightly fucked conceptions of love and loyalty, pet play-ish activity, hard drug use, forced intoxication, shotgunning, slapping, boot licking, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, riding, cannibalistic thoughts, orgasm denial (female), breeding kink, creampie.

Notes: I had several pieces in line in front of this one and then this prompt reached through my screen, sunk its teeth into my brain, and shook me until this came out. It really is a terribly great thought. Tagging heavy, since the themes/Cooper's mentality may be triggering for some. It is what it says on the can, folks.

I dunno what unholy demon you've unleashed on me here, Anon. But bless you for it. Another Coop POV because I have a problem. Thanks for the patience on this one; I've been doing some admin stuff the last few days, including setting up an AO3 that you can find here, where I'll be uploading all the long-form stuff. Enjoy!

Cooper's trigger finger was itchier today than it had been for a long time.

He was fully aware that he'd never be able to stop every man left in the world from talking to his little vaultie companion, but boy, he sure would love to try. On an average day, he struggled to hold his tongue as she drove away her own sun-baked suitors, standing silently aside until called up to defend her, no matter how badly he wanted to reduce whomever was bothering her to nothing.

Today was a worse-than-average day, and the girl wasn't helping anything, herself.

"Are you gonna be ready to go any time soon, princess?" he asked her acerbically as she passed by him for the millionth time, tossing his current cigarette down to the ground.

He'd intended to stop at this shitty little settlement, little more than a dingy bighorner ranch at first glance, for a few minutes at most, just long enough to unload some things and check to see if they had any vials on hand. Here it was, nearly four hours of glad-handing and chit-chatting and unnecessary gun repairs later, and he was still leaning against the same crumbing wall, still angrily smoking. She was pushing it.

"Oh, be patient." she shot back, rolling her eyes as she turned to saunter back to the little ramshackle counter. "I'm waiting for my gun back and I was having a nice chat with the mechanic. Try to be pleasant for five minutes, would you?"

She was so full of shit, he thought as he snuffed the still-glowing smoke butt out beneath the toe of his boot with just a little more force than necessary. Typically, she shied away from male attention at her most demure, refusing to acknowledge most advances, playing innocent, playing dumb. The big doe eyes and soft voice didn't hurt on that front, but usually didn't deter the more steadfast predators.

He preferred the days where she had a little extra spitfire, when she told them clearly and loudly to fuck off, no doubt emboldened by having the rather intimidating ghoul hanging over her shoulder, silently encouraging her as she did it. In the past, she had proven that she wasn't above evoking his capacity for violence as a threat when the desert trash was persistent, and it gave him a thrill he couldn't identify, one that ruminated deep in his gut.

That same gut feeling was burning him now, eating a hole in his patience as he watched her listening attentively to the third scrawny young man who'd approached her as she waited around the repair hutch to yap her ear off. She nodded and smiled politely, even laughed from time to time (the sound of which made him want to shoot he kid between the eyes just for that), but kept a respectful distance. Clearly, she'd finally learned that the sort of over-friendliness that she'd been raised with in the vaults could be read differently up here. The young buck, however, continued to try and dance into her space as he spoke animatedly, and, eventually, she reached out and quickly touched his chest.

The old cowboy was stomping across the sand to her before he was even aware he was moving.

His logical brain could see very clearly what had happened: the boy had advanced into her space for the half-dozenth time and she'd put her palm out to gently rebuke him, distracting him from the rejection with a laugh at whatever he'd said. But that part of his brain was rather quiet after a long afternoon of watching her rather blatantly flirt with the asshole she was having repair her plasma pistol (something that she would typically have him do, since it wouldn't cost her anything, and he almost certainly could do with equal or superior adequacy), and letting every other little piss-ant farmhand in the next mile radius chat her up.

"We're hitting the road in five. Get your shit and let's go." he hissed to her, ignoring the little scowl she shot him as he interrupted her newest conversation with the willowy, greasy mechanic, who was sliding her her pistol back across the knotted wood of the semi-exposed countertop. Flashing him that brilliant smile, the one that he wanted to be only for him, she checked the thing over before tucking it back into the holster she kept on her hip, pushing a stash of caps in a metal tin back his way. The old cowboy watched with inflamed indignation as the fucker opened the box, dug out a massive handful, and tucked them back into her hands, letting his own linger across her skin as he placed them back into her palms.

Frankly, he was impressed he was able to let her drop the things back into her bag before he grabbed her by the arm, none too gently, and wordlessly began to yank her back down the road, back in the direction they'd originally been heading in. He could've shoved the damn things in himself and just dragged her along; it wasn't like he was unfamiliar with where she put them. The long, sleepless nights could be boring, and early on, he'd been curious enough about her to nose through her things once or thrice. That, like this, had been quite illuminating.

"Oh, you're being such a prick today!" she yelled, yanking at his grip in an attempt to free herself. He humored her, dropping her arm and turning to face her, unpleasantly surprised as the last farmhand she'd been chatting with, the one she'd touched, came running up.

"Hey, leave her alone!" he yelled. Or, he would have, if he'd had a chance to finish.

The sound of Cooper's rifle butt cracking into the kid's face was incredibly satisfying, collapsing him into a limp, useless pile on the ground, deep crimson pooling around where he lie face-down in the dirt. The girl didn't scream, probably surprised that he hadn't outright shot him, but her hands did fly to her mouth in a quick moment of silent shock before she kneeled to quickly check his pulse, rolling his ugly mug to face the sun. Blood poured from his obviously broken nose, leaving the old ghoul wiping at his face to cover the smirk it sent twitching across his lips.

"What did you do that for?!" she demanded, frustration clear in her voice.

"Oh, my apologies, sweetheart. Your little boyfriend there was trying to join a party he wasn't invited to." he replied, though she was clearly ignoring him in favor of turning the boy onto his side and examining him.

His little companion let out a huff, casting a look between the body on the ground and the little cluster of buildings they'd just left. After a moment, she grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt the best she could and began to drag him back towards where he'd come from. The ghoul watched her pull him about five feet, red and huffing by the time she made it there, rolling his eyes deeply.

"Leave him. He'll be fine."

"He won't be if no one comes over to collect him soon, and you know it." she snarled, and her tone sent him seething, snatching the kid up over his shoulder like a sack of spuds and stomping ahead of her, depositing him unceremoniously against the ranch's handmade sign before yanking her along with him once again.

"Y'know, if you'd have just gotten in and out like I told you, that wouldn't have happened." he said eventually, dropping her arm once more.

"Oh, fuck you!" she hissed. "I was trying to see if I could talk him down on the price. And sometimes people know useful things, you know!" she yelled, exasperation clear in her tone as she threw her arms up in the air.

She pretended to be ignorant, but clearly knew what he was upset about before he specified. Interesting.

"Oh, I'm sure. Y'know, I'd wondered how long it was gonna take you to start sellin' that little ass of yours. Figured it would be for something nicer than a pistol repair or some bad intel, at least." he sneered. He could feel himself slipping further from rationality.

"What are you talking about? It wasn't even like that!" she insisted, an edge of something more worrisome creeping into her voice.

"Quit playin' dumb, doll. You make it seem too easy." he said, watching her entire face light up bright red in frustration. She was tersely quiet for a minute, the gears in her head clearly turning hard and fast as she worked to contain herself and formulate a response at the same time.

"I'm sick of you getting pissed off and treating me like I'm the stupidest person you've ever met." she spat, eventually, madder than he'd ever seen her. "I'm sorry that I haven't spent enough bitter fucking years walking around the desert and killing things and being an asshole to know everything like you do, Coop. I'm sorry I still have human emotions and desires. My sincerest fucking apologies."

That was it: the argument had officially become about...something else.

Honestly, he'd assumed that she was going to leave him a few days back, when they'd stayed in a rare hotel room waiting for a bad dust storm to settle, the little thing getting just a tad too tipsy on some whiskey he'd given her before trying to kiss him. He'd rebuffed her, though not as gently as he wished he had, and, feeling bold, she'd pushed back with surprising fervor, basically demanding to know why he wouldn't kiss her more, why he wouldn't sleep with her.

True, he felt closer to her than he'd felt to anyone or anything in a long while, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but, as embarrassing as it was, the idea of being expected to perform sexually so suddenly made him feel a seizing sense of panic that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

What he'd wanted to say was "I care about you so much, but I'm not sure I'm ready to take that step." Instead, what had come out was "Why are you buggin' me about this? I said no. Fuck off." followed by him storming out to spend several hours smoking in the decrepit, junk-walled-in parking lot.

When he'd returned, she'd been asleep, her poor face tear-swollen and red. He'd waited for her to rouse and hash it out with him, but she'd slept through the night, and, the next morning, didn't bring it up or seem amenable to discussing it. She hadn't seemed angry, necessarily, perhaps a little sad, but in the few days that had passed since, she had definitely been colder, poutier than usual.

It seemed, to him, that she was punishing him now for not doing what she'd wanted, and it was pissing him off.

It didn't matter that he hadn't fucked her yet, that he didn't feel ready to expose the most vulnerable parts of him, inside and out, so openly. She was his; she belonged to him and she knew it as much as he did. The fact that she was even still traveling with him after all this time, after what happened at the hotel that night, was proof. She proved it every single time she came back from one of her little stomp-offs every time he ticked her off, lacking the wherewithal to ever even move fully out of sight before slinking down to pout awhile, inevitably peeking out from whatever she was hiding behind to see if he was still there. Despite her lack of proper training, she was a loyal little bitch.

The fact that she suddenly didn't want to act accordingly sat entirely wrong in his mind, wriggled under his skin like when his stash ran low.

"All's I'm saying, princess," he growled, throwing out the nickname he knew she loathed once more, "is that you're too fucking friendly for your own good, and you shouldn't be shocked when it gets people hurt."

"Why would you give a shit who I'm friendly to, anyway?" she spat, suddenly pushing her way right into his bubble and sending him baring his teeth.

"I wouldn't. Didn't I made that clear enough the other night?"

He knew that this particular barb would hurt her, but he genuinely didn't expect what she did next.

"Alright, then." she said; her voice was trembling noticeably, as was her lower lip. With that, she snatched her backpack up from the ground, jammed her arms into the straps, turned, and began to walk back towards the way they'd come from. He watched her silently, waiting for her to duck back into the ranch, but she didn't; instead, she kept walking, as long as he could watch her, until she disappeared over the hill that fed into the horizon.

The old man watched her go, dumbfounded as she actually continued to walk instead of stopping as she always did. For a while, he hung around, waiting for her to come huffing back, but she still hadn't by the time the sun had fully sunk out of the sky. Eventually, he resumed moving himself, stopping after about a mile in their original planned direction, settling down for a grating night of looking out over the road at every little noise.

She'd never even looked back. He couldn't shake that thought from his mind as he sat there resting overnight. It was basically the only thought he had for hours, plaguing him as he puffed his inhaler and watched the world around him brighten with the rising sun.

When the next day started in full, he'd resolved to hit the road, to resume his travels as he would be resuming his existence before the girl had come along. Compared to how long he'd been exploring the desert solo, she'd been but a brief blip in his life, and there was no reason to fret so much over where she'd gone or what could happen to her without him around.

For some reason, he only covered about half the ground he would typically cover on a day like this, and he found himself beyond unreasonably frustrated...with himself. Nothing about the conditions was slowing him down; he didn't run into more trouble than usual, and he was fine on supplies, vials, but for some reason he found himself hypervigilant, looking for any excuse to move up high and scan the road with his binoculars.

By the time it was too dark to safely continue, he was seething once again, but at his weakness, at his cowardice. After he chose a tucked away little corner to settle down in for a few hours, he quite literally couldn't dig into his stash fast enough, doing line after line, hit after hit of whatever he had on him, until the horrible pain he felt behind his breastbone melted away into a familiar, soothing numbness.

But his numb mind liked to wander, and soon he found himself thinking about the softness of her voice, her skin, her lips against his that night...

And, quickly, he was back to pain and anger, but an irrational anger fueled by a far-more than reasonable dose of basically every kind of stimulant known to Wasteland man. This pain, too, was chased away with more and more chems, until he was so fucked up that he could barely keep his eyes focused and open.

She truly did plague him now, just as she had all the months she'd traveled with him. She plagued his thoughts at all points in the day, plagued his worries about the future, and even as he attempted to snort and huff himself free of the thought of her, she plagued him, dancing up along beside him in a quiet, stalking creep, watching him daintily from the end of the rotted log he sagged himself on, his back wedged against the large rock cluster behind him. At some point, he'd tugged his gloves off and shucked them somewhere nearby, leaving him feeling quite naked as his hands fretted with themselves absentmindedly. Against his will, he thought about running them through her hair like he'd wanted to for so long, and the unpleasant flip his stomach did made him sigh.

"I'm sorry." came a voice on the breeze, so much like hers. The visions of her were persistent, annoyingly so, the one staring hauntingly at him from the side really starting to unsettle him. He was no stranger to visual and auditory hallucinations when he was this far gone, but she was so solid-looking out of the corner of his eye, watching him so close. Judging him and what a fuck-up he was.

He squeezed his eyes shut hard, willing her away, willing himself to go back a few days and redo this entire thing differently.

"Aren't you...gonna say anything?" came the soft, timid voice once more, this time from beside him. Firmer, realer.

He narrowed his eyes in her ghostly direction, focusing as best as he could on her blurry, swimming visage.

"Huh. Didn't know that was really you."

When had she arrived, exactly? Fuck, he was dangerously gone if she'd been able to sneak up on him like that.

She frowned at that, leaning close and sizing him up with worrying eyes. Gingerly, she placed her palm on the back of his bare hand.

"Jeez, Cooper. How fucked up are you?" she asked, her tone sincere, almost apologetic.

Her glaring worry burned into him as judgment, harsh and stinging, and he struck out in response, yanking his hand away.

"Mind your fuckin' business." he slurred, forcing himself to sit up straight enough to point his full anger in her direction, growing with each passing moment. "Think you're better'n me? Hmm?"

He'd fully expected this to ignite another yelling match between the two of them, but she didn't scream back; instead, she quietly dropped her head, avoiding his eyes as she gazed around where he'd chosen to bed down. Truly, he was quite impressed she'd managed to find him at all, let alone in the dark. Turns out he was rubbing off on her even more than he'd thought. The idea left him bitter.

A big part of the anger he felt, the ugliest, most violent part, was the Jet; he knew this. The stuff had gotten him into more than his share of scuffles through the years, making him even meaner than usual, his sharp tongue exact and piercing. However, beneath the amphetamine fog, there was a nugget of true bitterness, an open wound of insecurity that pained him into lashing out when she tried to come close. He'd lashed out in such a way that night at the hotel, despite how hard he'd tried to hold back his sour words.

There was a fear there that he'd felt before, but never so strongly as when he'd watched her disappear over that hill. If she'd tried to leave over that relatively small argument, when would she try to leave again? He wasn't a pleasant man to be around, even when he actually tried to be, a lot of the time. Hell, he wasn't even pleasant to look at; if he'd been a giant prick in his old life, at the very least, he had been handsome.

Increasingly, since she'd come into his life, he tried to reach deep, deep into himself and pull out whatever remained of the old him, the one who was kind and hopeful and actually knew how to talk to women, but the process was infinitely more difficult and painful than he'd imagined.

She clearly wanted and needed intimacy from him, on more than one front, and the pressure of feeling like he couldn't give her what she needed was increasingly getting to him in a way that embarrassed him more than he could possibly say (not that he'd ever say it out loud). Centuries of time had passed, and yet, here he was, still dealing with the same anxieties and feelings of inadequacy that he had before, just dressed up in a new, uglier face.

When would he finally succeed in pushing her away, in frightening her away from him 'for her own good'? The walls around him had never failed him before, for better or worse.

Things were quiet between them as she fidgeted in her spot, the tension of an inescapable conversation in the air, but the desert's constant score, the hiss of sand across corroded asphalt, the soft rattle of the wind in the rocky hills, played on. His muddled ears played tricks on him, making him hear murmurs and distant gunshots and the crack of his rifle butt into that farmhand's face, but he tuned them out, focusing on her steadying, but increasingly heavy breathing, his eyes unable to leave her mouth..

He let himself drink in the fact that she really was there, sat on her knees in the dirt before him and already begging him for his forgiveness, for his acceptance; corporeal, flesh and blood and her sweet smell and that wet, warm place between her legs. Only in his drug-induced private fantasies had he felt it, but he knew he wanted to bury himself there, as deep as possible, and never let her pull away.

"I really am sorry, Coop." she whispered, those big, round eyes brimming with big, wet tears. It wasn't difficult to see her sincerity, even as he struggled to focus. But that hot coal of bitter anger still smoldered in his gut; not replaced by the lust he felt, but fed by it.

Slowly, his own movements labored under the weight of too many substances, he reached out and ran the thumb of his sullied glove along her smooth, smooth cheek. Smearing the trail of wetness there until he was tracing the outline of those pouty lips, he pushed it into her mouth.

"Prove it."

She let out a pitiful little retch, though whether it was from the taste of the incredibly filthy material, or because he was shoving her tongue back in her throat and gagging her with it, he didn't know. What he did know was that the sound made his cock twitch, which was already more blatant sexual desire than he'd felt in ages.

"How?" she asked, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as he pulled his own away. The wetness that trailed from his thumb, from her lips, made him feel feverish, and he quickly knotted his hand into the thick, soft hair at the back of her head, yanking her so close that their noses would've been touching, had he still had one. When her wide eyes met his, not so much as a sound escaping her lips at the sensation in her scalp, he finally gave in and harshly mashed his mouth to hers, swallowing the sigh that escaped her as he did.

Cooper was unsure how long they kissed, how long he plundered her swollen, eager mouth with his tongue before she stumbled onto her knees, pulling back slightly to pull air into her lungs. As she hovered there, eyes closed as she attempted to gather herself, he dug deep into the pocket of his duster and withdrew a Jet container, giving it a shake to prime it as she righted her breathing. Once she was steady once more, he cupped the back of her head again, bringing her to him and lifting it to her mouth. There was hesitation in her eyes, then disgust as the chem filled her lungs. It touched him with a twinge of amusement, knowing how badly the stuff tasted, watching her retch harder than before. He let her cough for a few seconds, allowing her a few half-cocked breaths of air before shoving the thing back between her lips and holding it down even longer.

By the time she managed to stop sputtering and drooling, he'd had a hit of his inhaler and started stroking his increasingly hard cock through his pants, watching her closely as she raised her now bleary, glassy eyes towards him. He waited for her to mouth off, to complain, to remark on anything that had happened, but instead, she sat there, unmoving, waiting for his instructions. She was the picture of obedience, but nevertheless, he could still see that glint of outrage behind her gaze, waiting to argue with him the moment she sensed an opportunity.

It pissed him off more than he thought possible, and, before he could even think to stop himself, he lashed out and slapped her across the face, the blow landing squarely in the center of her cheek and making her head turn away from him slightly. Surprising him again, she didn't make a sound, but she also didn't correct her head to look back at him.

Pulling a long drag off of the Jet inhaler himself, he held it deep in his lungs as he grabbed her by her long hair to kiss her again, exhaling the stuff right down into her lungs. She kissed him back until she choked on the sensation, leaning away to spew and cough more.

"Wanna prove you're sorry?" he hissed, his brain buzzing with the fresh hit as she leaned against his knee. "Clean my boots, vaultie. Show a little humility for once in your life."

His words were mean, meaner than he should be right now, but she didn't seem to register their full weight as she struggled to focus her eyes on the boots in question. When she lifted those dark, glassy pools back to his, he could see she knew what he meant, a heavy blush staining her cheeks and neck. Of course she knew what he meant; she was a smart girl, and her brain worked so much like his, even if she wouldn't freely admit it.

She looked up at him so dreamily through those thick lashes, though whether it was real affection in her eyes or simply the haze from all the Jet he'd forced down into her lungs, he couldn't tell.

In truth, his boots weren't as filthy as they could've been, as he'd cleaned the farmhand's blood off of them the night she'd taken off to get rid of the smell. But it wasn't about cleanliness; no, she'd humiliated him, her and her spoiled, entitled vault-dweller attitude, when she ran off, and he wanted to see her humiliate herself a little in kind.

The woman kneeling before him didn't hesitate as much as he'd thought she would, the red outline of his palm and fingers seeming to glow on her cheek in the dying firelight as she cast a vaguely-seeing glance around her, measuring her space before pulling herself into a sort of downward dog position, her round ass in the air as her marred cheek rested softly on the sandy ground. There was a moment of quiet tension as she seemed to study it, planning her approach before rather timidly leaning forward and running her tongue along the side, swiping a clean stripe across the tarnished black material from ball to toe. She gagged at first, likely from the dryness of the dust, but, again, she didn't complain.

He didn't have to tell her to clean the other boot; she did it with no prompting as soon as the first was finished, gagging less as she ran her pretty pink tongue all along the sullied, scuffed leather, and he couldn't believe how much it turned him on while equally failing to quell his indignation, his disappointment. Before she'd really finished her work, he yanked her up by her hair again; this time, she let out a slight yelp of surprise as he dropped her onto her ass, gesturing to her shabby, scavenged armor with one hand as the other began to wrestle his ammo belt, then his actual belt, open.

"Take that shit off."

Again, she did as he asked with only a moment's pause, placing all the little pieces of boiled leather and metal off to the side, her eyes flitting to him for a heartbeat before she proceeded with the rest of her clothes, quickly exposing herself completely. He could see her well in the moonlight, but not as well as he'd have liked, leaving her standing there, vulnerable and shivering ever-so-slightly as he took a good, long look at her. He was painfully hard at this point, desperate to have at least some minor relief from the confines of his trousers, but he was also uncharacteristically nervous at the idea of exposing himself to her this way. Beckoning her forward, he used her distraction as she kneeled once more to pull his cock free, grateful for the darkness and her weaker eyes.

"Suck me." he growled.

While he wasn't exactly pleased at how entirely fucked up he'd been going into this, he was sort of grateful that he couldn't feel almost anything with any vivid detail across the expanse of his body; the visual of her wrapping her dainty little fingers around him and obediently leaning down to take him into her mouth alone would have been enough to finish him if he'd have been able to feel her properly.

The way she went about it also seemed to indicate she wasn't entirely experienced, simply sliding her mouth down over his cock and setting to finding a pace that she could handle, as everything was surely spinning for her. For a while, he let her do so, fingers knotting into her hair again, before his patience wore thin and he began to push her head downwards, the sound of her gagging once more sending a thrill up his spine. Even with the numbness from the most recent hit seeping through him, he wasn't able to keep it up long before he yanked her back, taking in the drool hanging down from her swollen lips.

Cooper gave his spit-slicked cock a few firm tugs, hissing from between his worn teeth at her as he sat back, making room for her on his lap.

"Now get up here and show me you know who you belong to."

She didn't even look towards her bag, towards the condoms he knew she kept tucked deep inside her little toiletry pocket, as she quickly and sloppily pulled herself up into his lap. A part of him knew that he'd have stopped her if she did try to put one on him.

He tried so hard to not think of Barb as the pretty young thing on top of him began to sink down and envelop his cock in her heat, tried so hard to not feel guilty for giving himself to another, and he failed miserably. She felt heavenly, tighter and warmer and sweeter than he could've ever imagined, and he hated himself for how much he loved it, for how alive it made him feel when for so long he'd simply been existing. The choked noise that left his dry throat as the aching head of him fully breached her wasn't a sob, but he wouldn't have known what to call it.

It must've seemed to her, he thought, that he was forcing her to do all the work out of anger, wanting her to fully prove that she wanted him, that she was his; this was true, but he was also terrified, deep down, of how he would react if he allowed himself to freely touch her the way he wanted. He feared he would literally rip her limb from limb in his intoxicated state, sink his teeth into her pillowy flesh until it bled, tear a chunk off of her and swallow it so that she could be part of him forever.

He couldn't tell if the way she huffed and whimpered her way down his length was because she was high and hypersensitive or because she'd never been with a man this way before. That thought was quickly and harshly banished from his brain, however, his hands finding the plush fat of her hips, fingertips digging hard into the soft, supple flesh.

"Good pup." he breathed out when he eventually felt her ass rest on his thighs, fully sheathing him inside her.

The whimper she let out in response, her tight little clasp quivering around him as she clumsily reached out and braced her hands on his shoulders, made him throb hard, leaving him at least slightly grateful for his intoxication once again. If his numbed brain and body had been able to feel her fully, he knew he would've absolutely shot his load already.

Cooper struggled to stay still as she moved experimentally on top of him, lifting and lowering and grinding herself a few different ways before she found a rhythm that made him let out a throaty moan, the ghost of a smile flashing across her sleepy face as she rode away at him for a while.

What he really wanted, deep beneath all the unwanted feelings and unanswered questions about things he didn't want to think about right now, was to knock her up. For so long now he'd thought of her as his, and now that he'd claimed her, he wanted nothing more than to see her round and full to the brim of him. He wanted her to need him, to be completely dependent on him to provide for her and keep her safe.

He wanted her too vulnerable to get away from him.

On top of him, her movements were rapidly losing all coordination as her glossy, heavy eyelids drifted shut, her head nodding violently as she struggled to maintain her pace. He'd given her too much for someone who didn't use regularly, someone her size, and she was crashing out, falling asleep against her will right there. Poor thing.

He slapped her again, the sound ringing out across the vast, empty desert, watching closely as she startled back into a fully upright posture, her hips stilling for a moment before slowly beginning to churn again, her gaze unfocused.

"Mmm." she murmured groggily, leaning forward and placing her forehead against his shoulder, her arms winding around his neck as she tried her best to keep in some sort of motion.

This gesture, the way she cuddled up to him and sought comfort, support from him, even after the way he'd treated her, the fact that he'd literally just slapped her awake, was the only thing she'd done thus far that truly quelled the ugly, raging anger inside him.

"Thought this stuff was s'posed to wake you up." she sighed into the crook of his neck. She was entering the peak of her high, her body pitifully liquid against his chest as she clearly struggled to stay upright.

Personally, Cooper was reaching the un-fun part of his comedown, where everything started to feel grating and the mind began to uncloud, providing an increasingly painful level of clarity, but the senses remained muddled in a way that provided more discomfort than relief.

"Usually does. You had too much, baby." he responded, the mild chastisement in his tone doing a poor job of hiding the guilt behind it. His naked hands stroked reverently at her back, at the long, wind-swept hair that flowed down it, mindful to hold her so that she wouldn't lilt too far to one side as he attempted to soothe her.

Familiar with the unpleasant swimming sensation too much Jet could give you, he let her relax fully against him, the small sigh she let out one of gratitude as her whole body sagged even further. But she didn't stop grinding against him, probably out of some sort of pleasure for herself, he figured as he could feel her greedy insides tugging around him. He hid his grin again, this time in the crook of her neck as his hands found her hips once more, easily lifting her a few inches before dropping her down again, bouncing her on his cock as she rested.

Things went on like that for a spell, him bobbing and rocking her naked, lax body on top of his as she curled up on his shoulder, cooing and nodding off from time to time. As his high wore off, the sensitivity in his body was returning, and it made her feel more and more overwhelming as he continued to fuck her, her hot, wet little cunt leaking all over him as he continued to use her body to get himself off.

She seemed to be more conscious now than before, though barely, jostled awake by the increasing force of his thrusts up into her, bare breasts heaving with the movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to trace his lips down her chest, sealing them around her puffy, erect nipple and swiping his tongue along her slightly salty flesh. In response, her arms tightened around his neck, holding him on her breast as she clenched around him hard.

"Cooper." she whimpered, and that single little sound pushed him right into what felt like the most powerful orgasm he'd ever had, his fingers digging into her hips far too hard as he dropped her full weight onto him, grinding her down onto his cock and yanking her against him. His head dropped back, dead weight as he let out a feral snarl, tapering off into a throaty moan.

As he throbbed his gift up inside her, she squirmed at the feeling, tucking her bright red face into the side of his neck in what read as slight embarrassment, giving little huffs and whimpers as he continued to fill her. Another, smaller wave of guilt nagged at him as she clung to him, as he held her as close as he possibly could, struggling to regain control of his breathing; even if she'd had sex before, she'd never done this.

He held her as long as she could tolerate, her grip around him loosening slowly as she moved closer to real sleep. His girl was exhausted through and through, lightly snoozing against his chest.

For a few minutes, he let her rest uninterrupted, scanning her over to assess how badly he'd fucked up. She seemed fairly intact, though certainly more bruised than before. Eventually, he went digging into her bag, knowing (hoping) that she would have Radaway somewhere, and letting out a small sigh of relief when he found some jammed into the bottom.

Only one dose; he would have to find her more, and soon. This would be enough to see her through the next day, though, and he was pleasantly surprised to note that she wasn't showing even minor signs of radiation sickness as he found a vein in her arm, starting up the intravenous line to administer the thick, yellowed solution. Surprisingly, she didn't rouse fully when he slid the included needle into place, but she did begin to stir and groan mildly as the stuff began to effuse. Dimly, he remembered being given it when he'd been in the service, and how shitty it could make you feel.

Softly, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his bare knuckles before setting to jabbing her with a Stimpak from his bag around where she'd stuck some staples in her belly, making a note to ask her what had given her the several inches-long laceration he saw there.

He hesitated, though, when he moved to give her a dose of Med-X he'd dug out from the depths of his saddlebag. Most of the Wasteland's mind-rotting and pain-soothing substances were on the table for him, and in great amounts, but he hated the way the opiate made him sluggish and sleepy, reducing his accuracy in a fight significantly. The pain relief it provided wasn't worth it if he ended up dead anyway.

Smoothskins loved it, though, so he usually kept a few syringes on him for bartering purposes. Never did he think he'd be happy to give so much of his stash away for free.

He knew she must be hurting, or, she would be when she woke up, whenever that was. But he was hesitant to give her anything else, both for fear of how she would react, and, somewhat selfishly, because he knew a proper dose would make her sleep even longer, and he was desperate to actually get to speak with her again.

If she asked for the stuff, he'd give it to her. But...tomorrow. After they'd gotten a chance to discuss everything that had happened with cooler, more sober heads. After he was sure she wouldn't wake up in the morning and hate him for what he'd done to her.

His fingers played softly in her mussed hair as the indigo cover of night faded into the periwinkle of twilight, washing her nearly grey in his arms. She slept hard awhile, undisturbed until the awkward angle of her neck made him gently resettle her into a more comfortable-seeming position, letting her slip down until she was curled up in a ball on her side in his lap, her head supported in the crook of his elbow. Lying this way, he'd have to hold her up while she slept, but he found himself strangely excited at the prospect.

"M'sorry I ran away." she murmured suddenly after a long period of silence, readjusting herself in his lap to curl closer.

"I know, kid. I forgive you." he replied after a moment of hesitation, the words soft and strange as they formed on his lips. He petted her hair as gently as he could manage. "Did a good job findin' your way back to me, pup. Proud of you."

"Mmm. Please don't be mad at me." she echoed his own thoughts softly, so slurred as she finally began into unconsciousness that it was barely intelligible, her face buried in his side.

"I'm not." he said, fully, completely honest for once in his long life. He let his eyelids rest, his hand on his gun, ready to stop anyone who would try to ruin this quiet moment under the fading stars. "I promise. Now, get some sleep, pup. I know you came a long way today."

She sighed at that, as if to say "You have no idea." before flopping loosely into his arms, and was snoring lightly within a minute. He allowed himself a small smile at this, at how earnest and adorable she was.

"Good girl." he murmured.

[maevecrom]

You accuse nesta of abuse but love rhysand and ship feysand when he sexually abused her. When he committed reproductive abuse. Ok🙄

Note: I love and support Feysand because of Rhys's patience, respect, and appreciation of Feyre's strength (both mental and physical). Is it possible to love/support something, but also acknowledge when something bad happens? Yes. I know that's hard for hyper-fans to understand, but it is, indeed, possible.

So, firstly I'd like to define both of those terms of "abuse," not to say it's not true, but just so we can really digest all of it.

reproductive abuse: any deliberate attempt to dictate a person's reproductive choices or interfere with their reproductive autonomy (deciding whether or not to use a contraceptive, hiding pills, secretly removing c0nd0m after sex, lying about having a vasectomy, etc.)

sexual assault: occurs when physical sexual activity is engaged in without the consent of the other person, or when the person cannot give consent (physical force, violence, threat, intimidation, ignoring objections, or taking advantage of intoxication)

Reproductive Abuse Claim:

I have NEVER condoned Rhys for withholding information about her pregnancy from her.

He did not infringe in her reproductive choices as described above because she was fully aware of the situation and her desire for what she wanted. Now, people may throw the "he should've known the kid would have wings," and I'd like to add that maybe he did know, but wasn't aware of the reproductive anatomy differences between Fae and Illyrian women due to lack of education within the Illyrian camp.

With that out of the way, we can talk a bit more about the reproductive autonomy: this is defined by having the power to decide about the control matters associated with contraceptive use, pregnancy, and childbearing. I will say that diagnostic delay is a serious problem and anon can read more about it here (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC8195035/). Rhys had no right to withhold that information in any capacity, and I have never stated otherwise. I think it's important to remember that Rhys as a character is extremely self-sacrificial, and will take on the brunt of any mental and physical load for the safety and wellbeing of his loved ones. He was terrified for her. He wanted her to revel in her pregnancy. That is his flaw. And that is something he needs to work to change.

You can read more about my opinion on that here: https://www.tumblr.com/maevecrom/750821197694058496/i-really-want-to-talk-about-the-pregnancy

Sexual Abuse Claim (UtM I'm assuming):

Let's just break down and go through everything Rhys did...

Had her drink faerie wine even after she said no - He had her drink the wine so that she wouldn't remember the people getting tortured and murdered at each party

Painted her skin and dressed her in a sheer, skimpy outfit - He painted her skin so that he would know if someone touched her, and kept the paint on the next day so she'd know he had only touched her waist and her shoulders

Kissed her without her consent - Kissed her to make it appear to amarantha that it was him that messed up the paint on her body instead of tamlin (also important to mention that he described that night with amarantha as being twice as brutal because she began speculating that rhys cared for feyre)

Had her dance for him - I'm going to say that if this is true, that if he forced her to dance for him, then i have no excuse. That's wrong. But i'd also like to mention that the person who told feyre/the readers what happened was lucien. Someone who isn't close with rhys and already has a vendetta against him, and could've misinterpreted the events due to bias (understandable from how rhys portrayed himself).

Now, people will also argue "well he could've just kept her in the cell." And let her go insane? It was the exact same reason he made a bargain with her. He was desperate to get her out of that damp, dark, isolated enclosure to spare her mind.

You guys can read more on effects of social isolation here:

Can also read about how social isolation is a form of torture here:

https://afsc.org/solitary-confinement-facts

Now, does any of this excuse anything that he has done? No. But the real problem with people like anon is that N/A is not as black and white as YA. No one is 100% good or evil, there is a grey area, and while nothing above excuses what he has done, it at least offers an explanation. He didn't do anything with malicious intent. Was it the wrong solution? Maybe. Would I have done something different? Probably. But those flaws are what make him an incredible character because he has done enough to prove that those flaws don't define him.

There is no such explanation for the way Nesta treats Feyre. There has never been. Feyre craves a relationship with Nesta, and we have seen this time and time again because she is a pleaser. Nesta, on the other hand, has been described to seek out insecurities to break those she loved. She hated Feyre for doing what she couldn't: taking initiative to keep them alive. SJM even described her blood as "singing" when she sees the effect her words had on her sisters. None of this can be defended as having any benevolence.

"Nesta was depressed" - and? I understand that mental health can become extremely damaging and serious, but it is not an excuse, nor is it a crutch. Rhys was emotional abused by his father, trained in an extremely damaging and abusive environment where he was discriminated against simply for his Fae ethnicity, and was sexually abused for 50 years - do you see any Rhys stans defending his actions due to his poor mental health? No. Because it's not a real defense. It's an explanation, sure, and can provide some understanding, but if you cannot find any source of good will in the abuse Nesta inflicted, then I don't want to hear it.

[tsams-confessions]

I dislike the Earth Giving Therapy trope.

Ok so I know it's just a fictional show, BUT I can't get over how they handle the aspect of earth giving "therapy" to the whole cast of characters. I LOVE earth don't get me wrong... but she doesn't handle therapy or counseling in that matter really well. The writers should have done a bit more digging tbh like watch a mock counseling or therapy session just to keep things accurate at least. And yes, some things earth does in these therapy sessions are ok I'm not saying she did awful.

But I want to touch on the things that irked me.

First of ALL, Earth has no right to counsel or give therapy to family members, friends, or anyone shes in a relationship with. This is considered unethical be cause Earth can be biased, and Earth can be affected over certain topics because she is so close with the one receiving therapy. This also creates conflict of interest.

ANOTHER thing that irked me was when she gave therapy to Eclipse the first time around. I already hated Moon dragging Eclipse to Earth because when one doesn't want therapy it'll be harder for them to accept help or cooperate they won't be comfortable and this'll create a hostile environment for the client in this case Eclipse. I like how Earth makes it clear that she doesn't like when someone is forced into therapy so I liked that

Then Earth manages eclipses session atrociously....

Although she says she holds no bias torwards Eclipse, there will always be some sort of feeling there, they've already exchanged conversations numerous times, and Earth has already been to some extent been influenced by sun, moon, and lunar's feelings torwards Eclipse.

Moon says he doesn't deserve confidentiality after Eclipse requests it!!! I hate that... ik he is a criminal basically but this rubs me the wrong way. Especially when one of Eclipse's problems are his trust issues. Then Moon goes on to say he knows all his problems! LIKE no you dont. You have no clear idea back off... To me thats so degrading.

Earth also mentions to Eclipse that she doesn't have the MENTAL capacity to deal with Eclipse's retorts torward moon being there... Let's keep in mind that she shouldn't even be here to begin with! Especially after what she witnessed with Lunar! And Eclipse was part of that situation as well. THIS IS CAUSING HER PROBLEMS MENTALLY SHE IS IN NO CONDITION TO BE GIVING THERAPY TO OTHERS much less Eclipse who is a really convoluted character. I love Earth so seeing her do this session while she herself is in a bad place is really self destructive.

SHE GOES ON TO BELITTLE THE MAN TOO! When Eclipse is being particularly fussy to the point he calls Earth an idiot, she goes on to say "A harmless one compared to you" I hate this because there should be no antagonizing in a therapy session it makes things hostile... and thereafter Eclipse closes up again destroying the progress Earth had previously achieved.

I can go on to other smaller details and things I disliked but overall these were points that made me particularly mad. Earth does do a good ok job at times so I don't want to take away her merits. I really enjoy the show and all just I wish it could be more considerate at times. Especially since this is creating an impression of what therapy is like to young impressionable children.

Thanks for comming to my Ted Talk 👁👁

.

[thebluntstudent]

FIVE TIPS FOR STUDYING WHEN ILL OR OTHERWISE INCONVENIENCED...

disclaimer: when at all possible, you should always prioritise physical and mental wellbeing over a good grade. If you are seriously ill to the point where it is heavily impeding your capacity to study, you are not fit to take an exam, or write an essay, and I hope your educational institute has measures for exceptional circumstances/extensions/deferrals to allow you to do so! Alas, it isn't always possible to do the ideal thing in life, and that is where my experience comes into play.

°•☆•°

Sometimes you find yourself in a crappy predicament a couple weeks before an essay is due, or an exam is scheduled, and you find yourself slipping further away from the stacl of textbooks on your desk, and closer to the comforts of your bed and the rest you really wish you had the time to make the most of.

Right now, my hormones are currently out of whack in a way that could meaning anything from (the most likely cause) PCOS to perimenopause at 22 to plenty of other less likely possibilities I'd rather not dwell on. This means that sitting up for more than 5-10 minutes in the same position sends my abdomen into spasms and sharp pains, and generally existing hour to hour is a painful, emotional, hot-flush filled experience.

That being said, I have an exam in a few days, and since deferral is not an option for me (this is my last attempt, I can't take any more time off of uni, my last attempt was last year during a period of several losses that occurred on an interruption year I had taken due to burn-out and unresolved trauma sliding into my life- you get where I'm going with the 'sometimes life is a bitch and your general and academic life can't be pretty and pristine' bit) I have been doing my best to balance comfort and productivity in a way that helps me look out for what I need right now whilst still getting in as much revisiom as I'm able to.

So! I thought I'd share my little tips for building a comfy study space when conditions are not ideal but you still gotta keep moving:

• abandon the 'do not study in bed' tip, but only for as long as it helps you as opposed to hindering you. I have tried sittimg up at a desk with pillows and blankets swathing me- and all I get for it is hefty back pain and constant awkward readjustments every time I start heating up or shift around in my seat too much. If you're ill, you aren't doing yourself any good sitting hunched over a desk either- and frankly your sleep is probably going to be buggered until you're feeling better anyways. So, if sitting at a desk is putting you off, prop up some pillows, rest your writing materials on a hard surface (a folder, an A4 hardback- a chopping board works for a cute wannabe lap desk too), and set a zone of your bed aside (or just use a bedside cabinet if you have one) for anything you'll be using fairly often- by which I mean stationary, textbooks you'll be using over the course of the next hour or so- just enough stuff to save you constantly getting up out of your comfy study bubble.

• listen to tesco: every little helps. What I like to do to get myself going when I'm feeling naff- which works also if you're simply having a difficult time focusing yourself for the day- is to do micro pomodoro sessions, where I'll dedicate myself to 5 minutes minimum of focused study. If I really can't bring myself to continue longer than 5 minutes, I'll let myself rest for a little while (up to 20-30 minutes) before getting myself to do another micro session. This may not seem very productive, but you are more likely to do a good hour of work on a bad day when you tell yourself you only need to do little 5 minute sessions, than procrastinating studying because you feel as if you'll have to sit up and focus for a much longer period of time for it to count. Every. Little. Helps. In 5 minutes you can run through a topic of flash cards, do a slide of lecture notes, answer small exam questions, do a page or two of readings- and on a good day, that 5 minutes might turn into 10 with a small break, then 15, then you'll find yourself picking up your regular pace in no time! But again, even 5 minutes, just one little session, is a win when the world is throwing hurdles at you <3

• maximise your comfort: you know the little things that bring you joy, and you don't habe to be rolling in cash to surround yourself with little things to keep you going when all you want to do is sleep. My current comforts are the loyal presence of my cat next to me, a few old blankets I can swaddle myself in to stare at the ceiling when my ovaries are throwing a tantrum, a little variety of teas (currently rocking a chai latte with home bargains vanilla syrup, girl gotta have her sweet relief), a pack of energy drinks, some painkillers, and a little incense tray nearby that I forget to use 70% of the time (though the remaining 30% makes up for that). None of this is in particular mandatory- if it were, the dog people of the world would be doomed. The point is, find your little comforts- an activity you can do from the comfort of your bed like a puzzle, sensory toy or just a book to doodle in, a certain type of drink or snack you really love, some smellies (perfume, incense, candles, wax melts, and so on), supplies for whatever ails you- little personal things to relax you whilst you try to gather your energy.

• Now is not the time to push it. I tend to find the times in which I am most likely to push myself past my limits are the times in whicj something is inhibiting me- the frustration of being bed-bound, fatigued due to chronic conditions, etc tends to make me feel even more than usual that I am not doing enough because of my awareness of my present restrictions. Though this post is about pusning through bad times, you should be doing so with self-compassion, and with the mindset that every little bit you achieve in your current state is a win, a bonus, even if you find yourself unable to work to the same standard as normal. You aren't well- you aren't supposed to be functioning at 100% because your body is only functioning at 50%, and if you want to get back to your regular stressed student self you need to rest! Remember that a slightly lower grade than you were expecting in the short-term is not a reflection on your character, and it's better to *be* better for the long-term than to work yourself into a ditch and burn-out when you are already at a low point.

• If healthy study you is a carefully rehearsed play, then sick study you is a completely improvised show. Don't knock the analogy, even if it is silly and obscure- when I am at my peak, I will time-block my studies, plan to do certain topics on certain days, do 30-5 or 50-10 study sessions, work during a set period from the morning to the mid afternoon.

When I am ill, I do not know when I will be unable to sit up to work. I do not know when I will be able to sleep, to stomach food, to concentrate- so I have to accept that the normal routines that keep me consistent have to be chucked in the bin for the time being. Instead of planning my whole day, I create a vague, rough outline of the next few things I want to get done. This way, I don't feel crushed when I start working on lecture notes and find myself flat out on my back crying 10 minutes later- I just pick up where I left off when I'm ready, and work in increments from there.

°•☆•°

Right now my sleep is a bit fudgy because of night sweats/panics and p a i n, and by building a cosy space and letting my plans adapt to my body's needs I've managed to get 3 hrs of lecture notes, 2 sets of flashcards, and a set of logic practise questkons done over night between 8pm-4:30am. If I had tried to stick to my regular 'good day' study routine, I don't think I would have lasted 15 minutes before giving up and crawling over to youtube with a bowl of white chocolate and a horlicks in hand.

It is this kind of adaptability to external conditions that allowed me to survive an unstable home situation during college that meant weeks without wifi, constantly moving between different homes and constant fear of eviction due to family debts I was too young to do anything about- and allowed me to get into the top university in London* as a working class girly from a council estate.

I was given the opportunity to do an extra year at college for free due to these circumstances and a great support network within the institute to make sure I got into the specific university that I wanted to, and I had to take an interruption after my firdt yesr of university because I am not a super-human, and I knew my limits- but I'm still going, and the time away I've had has paid off and gotten me back to my scrappy, chaotic, passionately nerdy self.

You can be messy and be a good student too- and you can get through the worst of times with a little adaptability, perseverance, a good support network and a little self care ♡

*Times Good University Guide, 2024.

[skitskatdacat63]

Fernando Alonso × Unconventional Drinking Implements

[lostbizkits]

Would definitely like to hear about all your Seraph headcanons please!

Congratulations I will now never shut up about my Seraph headcanons >:)))))

Uh this entire post has spoilers for DDS 2 so don’t read if you haven’t played that

Ngl my whole blog is a giant DDS 2 spoiler why the fuck are you here 😭😭😭

Ok so one thing that distinguishes the way I personally draw seraph from canon is that I actually gave them heterochromia, as well as reflecting their hair colour all over their body. The left side of their body has black hair, eyebrows, eyelashes and body hair, and the right side is white/silver.

But the eye colours are swapped, the silver side has Sera’s human eyes, and the black side has Serph’s. Seraphs pupils are also different but that’s because of a general headcanon that I have for the junkyard. You see, since the AI never had complete atma(in the Buddhist/Hindu sense, not the powers) their being is fragmented, so their pupil’s reflect that. It’s also because most of the Asuras are just fragments and stitched together chunks of Sera’s perception of the people that she met.

You’ll be able to see this in the way I draw Seraph, and most Embryon members that I’ve drawn recently.

Some Headcanons That Aren’t Necessarily in Their Design :D

Seraph’s Atma brand glows. If I got to remake DDS 2 (Atlus please let me remake DDS 2) I’d give Seraph’s head a soft glow, maybe with some particle effects. I personally think that the light from their brand is very strong, at times obscuring their face like an angel. And at other times it’s very soft :) and it ebbs and flows, changing intensity as they breathe (like a heartbeat)

Their voice also doesn’t sound like how it does in canon (to me) it’s more of a blend of both Serph and Sera. When they’re calm it’s a near perfect blend, both Serph and Sera’s atma working in perfect unison, but since the Seraph in DDS 2 is very young, when they get agitated or nervous their voice tends to fracture, going out of sync (Serph’s voice will be heard with a slight delay) or different voices speaking different sentences. But since Serph and Sera are very close this doesn’t happen often :)

[the-ebonarm]

Just some random thoughts but I currently consider Miraak and Odahviing as both of Valkrea's boyfriends even though I mostly have Miraak brainworms atm. And if for some reason Miraak ends up as her only romantic interest, I would still always consider Valkrea and Odahviing as a bonded pair. Bonded by soul and blood. They are inseparable and always will be. Their pain would be immeasurable if one was permanently taken from the other. They learn from each other and grow together. They can feel what the other is feeling. They can see what the other is thinking. They strengthen each other. They protect each other. They are always there for each other. When Miraak is no more (let's face it, he is not an elf. His lifespan likely won't compare to hers), she has Odahviing. When her friends are no more, she has Odahviing. When all that she loves and knows is gone, she has Odahviing. And honestly when she dies, Odahviing will find a way to follow and Valkrea will find a way to bargain with the gods so that he can be in Sovngarde with her.

[nylwnder]

it’s funny how i left for my tumblr cleanse calmly and proud that my team achieved something this year, celebrating mother’s day with my family with a bright smile and laughs, until last night, where i fell into a deep twitter/media hole about stupid and pathetic core 4 bullshit trades and talks all while trying my hardest to ignore that to then coming back to this (end of season media availability) and realizing i’m so emotionally fragile about all of this right now and i am in fact NOT CALM AND NOT ALRIGHT.

[snekdood]

Damn well. One of the clear ways you can tell my ex is bullshitting about me being anywhere near conservative is the fact that i get along well w the left leaning portion of my family vs the right leaning portion whomst i Do Not get along with or interact with

[aahsoka]

god so many people i know are having kids and like i just spent some time with my best friend (who has two adorable kids who are my honorary nephew & niece) and I’m like……. I do not want this responsibility. I’m seeing baby announcements like are you guys sure youre ready for that . Are you sure you want that right now. Some of you are in your early 20s calm down.

[lilyaceofdiamonds]

Not my mother asking questions that she damn well knows the answers to just so she can be vocally disappointed in my failings to do what she thinks i should do specifically instead of just the general air of disapproval that our conversations usually have.

[scareqrowbranwen]

//I stuck a bunch of stuff in my queue to spit out tomorrow while I'm out ✌️

[cubedmango]

It’s crazy cause I really convinced myself if I hated on it enough production would never ever start and now it has and the tags are so… i’m not strong enough I really am not

YEAH SAME theres been 0 news since november and that trailer Still didnt get released so i jst assumed they werent moving ahead w it but man ....... maybe if we hate on it even harder itll work this time-

[0dotexe]

hey I saw your reply in response to a post by autism-adhd-information-blog and I wanted to reply to it, but they have replies turned off. Otherkin can be adults and the oldest otherkin I know was in their early 50s, it's also not too uncommon to see otherkin older than 30. It's mostly just kids who tend to be the most callout-y about it and they're more like a vocal minority. I wanted to say something since "otherkin are kids going through a phase and later realize they're wrong" is a misconception that's a little annoying when you're an adult haha

Ok

[yandere-romanticaa]

An idea that I really like is Ratio falling for someone who is his complete and total opposite in every way imaginable.

He is the kind of person that operates on pure cold logic and facts. He believes in what he sees in front of him with his own two eyes and yes, while it may be fascinating, perhaps even a little entertaining, to philosophize about various unimaginable concepts they are all indeed just that.

Concepts. Ideas. Things made up from the bottom of the bored human psyche.

Veritas Ratio is a man who is able to grasp many, dare he say, possibly every concept he has ever encountered. He loves a challenge but hardly anything is challenging to him because he is such a genius. He devours books that are over a thousand pages long, the most complicated equations of any science are finished by his hand with such ease that many people might mistake him for a machine rather than a man of flesh and blood.

That's what makes it so fun to see him fall for an airhead. A person who probably doesn't care, or doesn't have the mental capacity to care about such things. This person would rather spend their days dallying away, picking flowers, baking, just doing things that are so mundane and plain (to him). If they do decide to read, it is some trashy romance model, maybe even just straight up written porn if they're just that shameless.

And this is the person who has Ratio grabbing his head in frustration.

He's shaking with anger in his room, golden eyes wobbly as he watches you walk up and down the space ship. You got lost, again. How much of an imbecile are you? Do you truly need someone to guide you through everything? With a huff, the scientist grabs his head made of plaster and makes his exist. He puts the mask on and in no time finds you, all lost in the hallways. You hear his upcoming footsteps before you see him and once you turn around, you are greeted with that bizarre mask you've grown so accustomed to.

You greet the man cheerfully, to which he just huffs. With his arms crossed, Ratio gives you a long and detailed lesson on how you ought to be more careful and aware of your surroundings, that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated. You are not a child and should stop acting like one.

Tears swell in your eyes but none are shed as the two of you turn back, him being a few steps ahead of you. Two pairs of footprints sound incredibly loud in this long and dark corridor. Veritas hears you quietly weeping and he feels the slight inkling of guilt pulling his heartstrings.

... Perhaps he was a smidge too harsh with you.

You are a clueless creature, sure. But maybe, he sometimes reveled in that fact. It was wrong and he would never admit it out loud but his heart whispered it clearly to him - you like this.

Veritas watched you carefully through the reflection of the window, the plaster head concealing the expression on his face. With your lips in a full pout and eyes watery like fresh morning dew, he couldn't help but to be just slightly charmed.

He scoffed to himself as he pressed onwards. He figured he had better standards for himself but that was not the case, clearly.

And just like that, he had escorted you back to your room. He could hear you mumble out a quiet thank you, which he acknowledged with a polite nod with his head.

He's not that cruel. Or rude for that matter!

With the situation now swiftly dealt with, Ratio figured it was high time he went back to his studies. He has already wasted far too much precious time on this, he isn't even sure when he'll finish that -

His train of thought is broken when he feels a pair of arms gently embrace him from behind, the warmth welcoming and dare he say sweet.

Veritas stilled, his body like the statue which some saw him to be. You still could not see his face but his anger could still be felt.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" he spat at you, his tone cold but venomous.

He felt your face being pressed against his broad back, fat tears caking his fine clothing. Just as he was about to pry your hands off him, he heard you finally speak:

"Thank you for helping me. Really..."

Your tone was soft and remorseful. You did not want to disturb him but despite that, you did just that. He was willing to accept your apology and have this situation be over with but what you said next simply knocked all of the air out of his lungs.

"You see, I... I wasn't sure how I could get your attention. I just wanted you to notice me, to talk to me..."

.... Goodness.

He was used to people trying to get his attention but to act like such a pathetic damsel in distress was new. He had to give you credit for your creativity, at the very least.

"I want to be your friend. I also want you to teach me all sorts of things-"

Ratio stopped listening to you mid sentence, his mind running hundreds of laps in thought. Perhaps you weren't the idiot he saw you as. Your little ploy worked, clearly. And if he took you under his wing, who knew what would become of you.

He could turn you into a diamond with his own two hands.

It was embarrassing just how giddy the thought made him.

The shadows of curiosity and some other emotions took over his mind as he analyzed the situation. There really was no harm in taking you all for himself.

Besides, if you were capable of this deceitful plan, who knew what else you could do?

He was eager to find out.