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[workfromhomejobs987]

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[todojoblist]

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घर बैठे पैसें कैसे कमाए

घर बैठे online करनी है कमाई तो ये प्लेटफॉर्म हो सकता है एक अच्छा अफसर जहां online प्लेटफॉर्म के जरिये आज सभी लोग कुछ ही स्किल्स सीखकर अच्छा पैसा कमा रहे है और आप भी हमारे साथ जुड़ कर पैसे कमा सकते है और अपने छोटे बड़े भाई बहन को भी प्ररित कर सकते है कि 20,30,50 हजार नही बल्कि लाखों कैसे कमाए वैसे तो इंटरनेट पर कई प्लेटफॉर्म उपलब्ध है जहां बड़े बड़े सपनो के साथ कमाई की बाते की जाती है पर बाद मे मायूसी ही हाथ आती है

पर यहाँ आप को सीखने को मिलेगा refer-से पैसे कैसे कमाए

इस कोर्स के बाद आप को कहीं भी भटकने की जरूरत नही होगी आप सभी सफल हों 🙏

👉watch

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[bitchlessdino]

mood rings, drive thru theaters, and the latest issue of tiger beat (m)

Pairing: chan x college student!reader (afab) Genre: angst, smut, fluff Word count: 6.9k tags: SVTHUB COLLAB, set in the 70s, plot twist with dark ending (possibly triggering to some), pwithplot, tutor!reader, busty!reader, pining, brief mention of religion, mention of recreational drugs, mention of death, mention of medicine and medical practice, mention of tragedy (car crash), breeding kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex, couch sex, handjob cream pies, dirty talk. Summary: when you fall in love, it can feel like you’ll be with that person forever, that there isn’t another being in the world you rather be with. This case is just as heavy in your youth, tutoring a boy you’ve only ever walked circles around, while you wear a mood ring from his parents souvenir shop so you could feel closer to him. When it happens, you don’t expect things to crash harder than the way they do. author note: she's here!!! i might reedit later but i wanted to get this out before i changed my mind about the plot again so enjoy and check out the rest of the collab!!!!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun

Falling in love in the seventies wasn’t easy. You didn’t have mobile phones or text messaging, hell, you were lucky if you had email. Most people didn’t. That’s what made it so much harder to be a person stricken in love. All you had was paper, a pen, and the possibility of hearing something through your home landline.

Every day you would wait for the confirmation call he’d be coming. He was one of the polite ones. You were grateful to have formally met him through the tutoring program held in college and you look forward to that phone call and the weekly meetings every Tuesday and Wednesday to go over organic chemistry. Somewhere in that mix, you had hoped to find your own chemistry with him despite knowing how selfish that’d be.

You’d never admit it loud but you had the classic high school pining back when you attended the same classes in the same town. He was a sweetheart then just like he was a sweetheart now and you longed for him like any other teenager. He had you doodling combinations of your names together in a worn out notebook and cherishing an item you secretly associated with only him. Yours was a mood ring.

In the summer of 74’, a new souvenir shop had just opened around the block after countless failed businesses by previous owners. This shop was owned by the Lees, a cute mom-and-dad duo that was sweeter than any cream-filled Twinkee. There was not a thing intimidating about them. They seemed like good people. What you weren’t ready for was their son working the register that day.

What was it about a man in wide leg jeans and a tight fitted shirt that made you want to physically fall to your knees?

At the time, he was wiping a glass candy tray rather meticulously. He has only greeted whoever came in without looking, too focused on getting every dust particle out of every crevice, so he didn’t notice how you found him to be the most interesting sight you’ve seen.

His smile when seeing the swell job he’s done was priceless compared to every piece of merchandise in the store. If there was a chance you could bottle up and take it away for keeps, you would. You would tell the local newspaper this store would be a new world wonder just from this boy alone. 

You had to pinch yourself to finally pull your eyes away from him, scanning for something, anything, interesting enough to purchase and ring it up with him. Finally, your eyes land on something colorful, ever-changing, and wearable.

“Will that be all for today?”

You nodded, holding back a wide grin as you watched him run through your purchase. His smile never faltered in front of you, and for some reason, it made you feel special, despite the assumption he probably smiled in front of anyone who came in. Still, it made an impression.

“That’ll be a dollar please and since you’re a new customer,” he picked something from a box behind the counter, “a pack of now and laters for the road. You can have one now and another later. They’re great.”

God, he’s cute.

You mused at him, accepting the ring and freebie after paying him up front. “Thank you.”

“Have a great day. Catch you on the flip side!”

You waved back at him on your exit, immediately regretting not staying longer to chat. As expected, your mind went blank the second he spoke to you, and the moment you were alone, you slid on the mood ring on your ring finger and focused all of your energy on thinking about the questions you could’ve asked. For him, that was like any interaction, but for you, it’ll be a core memory. 

It was throughout the years you realized that you’d be attending the same high school, sharing the same senior year, experiencing the same last year festivities, but despite the many opportunities, you never had an encounter like that with him again. You’d pass by that souvenir shop countless times, glancing at him while he worked every shift, but cowardly never approached him again. Not with the lack of trying, of course, your adolescent self was too busy to find a way to make him fall in love with you according to whatever you read in Tiger Beat.

You remember flipping through it, back and forth, momentarily distracted by the boyish charm of David Cassidy, and then going back to reread it in case you missed something. This had been your adolescent bible to understand whatever was on trend because only God knew you needed it. Somedays, you’d pretend you were talking with him through your magazine posters. Now that was a face deserving to be in magazines.

“You’re still thinking about that boy? Just talk to him already.”

Even your closest friend, Stacey, couldn't get your head out of the clouds. 

You adamantly shook your head, the magazine clung to your chest. “No, absolutely not. Me talking to him wouldn’t even happen in my dreams. In fact, I’d probably have to pay admission to see him in my dreams.”

She rolled her eyes, letting you get back to whatever exactly you were doing. “Okay, drama queen. We get it. You like a boy.”

She was used to this at that point and it’d be all the same. You never outgrew it entering colleges either, the same one he happened to attend, which you couldn’t have been more stoked to find out. “He’s not just any boy, Stacey. he’s the boy. He’s so far out. I can’t even fathom his existence.”

You were in fact exaggerating, but at the ripe age of 18 all of it felt sincere and you truly did believe it was all true.

And to think you hadn’t formally met him yet until you started participating as a tutor in a peer help program at your University. You didn’t expect much of it, only thinking of collecting some community hours and hopefully maintaining a good reputation with your professors and there he was, like fate. There he should, hair coifed in intentional pristine, a loosely buttoned vibrant green shirt, and familiar tightly fitted pants that flared from the bottom. 

Your breathing seized, stunned by the sheer fact you have stood this close to him since the first time your eyes laid on him. When he turned to you, he didn’t seem to notice your reluctance to walk closer as he strode confidently in your direction. 

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Lee Chan. You're my tutor, right?”

Your heart sounded like a metronome at the highest speed at this point, taking your breathing in little by little, timidly returning him with your own introduction. Safe to say, you were both scared out of your mind, yet excited about this turn of events. Though, if you thought about it too hard, you had the chance of rendering tutorship useless and then it’s farewell to Chan.

That’s when you made the executive decision to omit him from your head during these sessions and treat him like any other peer needing help, as you initially intended with anyone you were assigned. If you wanted to continue these sessions and help out Chan, you needed to do more than think about what your future looked like together with 2.5 kids and a big picket fence.

You picked up a polite smile and settled in at a table, flipping a textbook to the first chapter of the course. Fortunately, he followed just as any other person struggling in chemistry and attempted to keep up with the lesson plan. As expected, you’d stumble over many of your teachings, forgetting some of the information yourself and having to refer to the book due to the blinding glow of your student, but as time passed, things eventually were more tolerable.

It was a few months later found an easier medium of being infatuated with the young man but helpful enough to pass the assignments in the above-average percentage. He just happened to be a good student that required more patience. Somewhat, it made you warm to learn that about him, including the fact he was good at listening, or how his eyes lit up picking up a lesson and recalling from memory. However, you kept this situation mostly professional, avoiding social interactions that would take away from your role. That was until Chan found comfort in spending time with you, having a sense of gratitude much grander than anyone teaching him Aldol reactions or valence electrons.

You could feel his soft gaze as you outlined something on his study sheet, emphasizing its importance since it’s appearing in the final he’d be taking eventually. If this were you back in the days of learning his name for the first time and thinking about him every waking second, you’d faint right about now. You’d be lying right now if you said you didn’t feel dizzy from the heat of his presence, but as you have been for the time spent together in the library, you’ve trained yourself to ignore it while mastering to subdue your intrusive thoughts.

Chan somehow found a way around that.

“Oh, your ring. Looks like the one in my parents' shop.”

You momentarily glanced back at the trinket before zone backing into today’s lesson, awkwardly chuckling to yourself. “Oh. Ha ha, that’s because it is.”

His eyes lit up the way they do, a cartoonish gleam in his eyes. “Really? I think I’d remember seeing you.”

“It was once a really long time ago.”

“Well, you should visit again. I can give you a good discount. We just got a big shipment of pop rocks.”

“Okay, sure.” You smiled, internally giggling at the thought of Chan entertaining himself with explosive candy and sharing it with you like the coolest treasure. “Alright. Organic compounds—“

“We really met before?” He interrupted.

“It really was so long ago. I’d be surprised if you did remember.”

“Well, I feel bad. I feel like there’s time it should be making up.”

You waved it off, not minding the now teary expression of guilt on his face. “It’s fine, Chan.”

“How about we go and watch a movie? I think the drive thru is replaying ‘The Godfather’. You should come with me.”

“Really? I don’t know.”

“Come on, consider it a thanks. You don’t even get paid for all the time you’ve spent teaching me.”

“No, but I get community hours. Speaking of teaching.” He placed his hand over yours, cuffing off the words caught in your throat. You find yourself helpless at the sweat pleas of Chan who works the cute angle all too well as he scooted closer to you. “I don’t think I can rest knowing I haven’t found a way to thank you. You’ve been tutoring me for 4 months. The least I can do is take you out.”

You’re a bit stunned, your leg already shaking in nerves as you never expected such a proposal to easily leave his lips and for you nonetheless. You exhaled, mustering the courage to meet his eyes before nothing, pressing your lips to discourage an all too gleeful smile. “Fine. We’ll watch ‘The Godfather’.”

He let you go, beaming, and tracking his pencil tracking over his notebook filled with chicken scratch that was comprehensible to him. “Good, I can pick you up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated before gluing his eyes back on the textbook, a noticeable hue of peak creeping up the back of his neck. “So, organic compounds...”

This arrangement was all you could think about until the day of, reading and rereading your magazines for possible outfit ideas, dating tips, and anything with the potential of making the best of this nerve-wracking situation.

On the day of, you got in your best get up just in time for the meetup. Anxiously, you turned your mood ring around your finger as you waited by the door, contemplating to yourself if what you chose was the right course of action. When the knock came, you came swinging the door open and pinched yourself from swooning seeing him in casual attire, including jeans that hugged his hips just right.

Chan, on the other hand, didn’t hide his emotions. Bright and animated, you grew hot under his watch, fiddling with the mood ring now on your middle finger and seeing it glare back a yellowish orange, indicating how nervous you really were. He took cautious steps towards you, mouth falling in awe, and he tugged at his band tee, which now felt lackluster compared to what his eyes were now seeing. “You look really good. I feel underdressed.”

“No, no,” you said, shaking your head and stepping down from the porch. “I just threw something on.”

“Well,” he offered an elbow, “shall we?”

You accepted his offer and hooked it through, hiding your elation. “Of course.”

He escorted you to the car and guided you to the passenger seat before closing the door, allowing you a moment to swallow the spaciousness of his station wagon before heading off to the theater. 

Cars beside cars, people neither mingling, making out, or taking advantage of the concession stands with 25-cent popcorn and pop. The sun was in the process of setting before it became a violet hue and eventually pitch black, perfect for movies. You got out of the car and smoothed out the wrinkles of your outfit, taking another deep breath.

You only had a fleeting second seeing him come out from the driver's seat, a smile settling on his face for what felt like you and only you.

Then came the hoard. Voices calling out Chan’s name, boys and girls his age gathered around him, offering his gregarious greetings and rowdy conversation. They hounded him with hugs, not minding you who stood off from the side behind the cat. Your expression dropped, starting from your smile before spreading over your body language. Chan, remembering your existence, tugged you from the hood and brought you to his side. He briefly introduced you as his tutor, and you did your best to greet them back just as politely.

They nodded at you, sly faces towards Chan as if you wouldn’t notice, and then came their bombarding again, only this time in your presence. You kept up the calm facade, only laughing when necessary before turning to the person who brought you here. “Nice to meet you all. Hey, Chan. I’m gonna get some snacks.”

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

You didn’t let the disappointment show on your face as you walked away but let it fall free as your back was towards the group. You hear their teasing and playful banter, questioning if you’re really just his tutor and Chan confirming, leaving no implication for anything else. You crossed your arms in embarrassment, already regretting letting this situation occur, imagining the worst scenarios to come.

You quietly asked for popcorn and a grape pop, greeted with your refreshments a few moments later, along with a box of raisinets. Your lips parted in confusion. “Oh, I didn’t order these.”

“On the house,” the guy winked, leaning over the counter a little too close for comfort, “a secret promotion for cuties like yourself.”

“Ah,” you gave him a tight-lipped grin, visibly distancing yourself, “thanks.”

“You know, I can always sneak away from my post for little liplock in—“

“Hey, you doing alright? I was worried about you.” You didn’t have to look to know. His body came crashing into yours. An arm slung over your shoulder, an action almost as natural as breathing. “Do you have enough?”

Your eyes flickered toward Chan who came to your rescue, nodding curtly. “Huh? Y-yeah.”

Chan met the seller's eyes before accepting your purchase for you, handing you over only the popcorn. You stared at the box of raisinets before he tugged you away from the stand.

“I did good, right? I’ve been told that guy’s a creep. I didn’t know he worked here.” His whisper sent chills through your body, yet burned your ears. You could feel the fanning of his breath, tickling your skin and raising every hair in your body.

“Me neither.”

“He’s not a good guy. You see him around, walk in the other direction ok?”

You nodded, taking his advice into serious thought. “Thanks, Chan.”

When it’s clear you’re out of sight, he parted from you, keeping his hands down his pockets, visibly apologetic. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable with that. He just won’t let it go unless he finds out you have a boyfriend or something.”

“Mmh-hmm.”

“Let’s get back to the others, hmm?”

You spent most of the night with Chan and his friends. Some laughed at how cheesy the movie was or actually scared of what was actually occurring (Chan was a mix between the two). You’d enjoy it more if you weren’t a bit bothered by the circumstances. All you could was glance in Chan's direction while he smiled and laughed along with his friends. Even though you were sitting next to him in the same car hood, you never felt further away. Every direction tonight felt like a punch in the gut, having only spoken to him before the movie started. At this point, you felt as if you had no place here, blinking away the humiliation tears threatening to fall.

“I’m a little cold. so I’m gonna finish the movie in the car.”

Finally, his eyes landed on you, “What?”

You slid off the hood and dusted yourself. Chan followed behind you confused before seating himself inside the car with you, a worried expression on his face. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course not.” You splayed a less genuine smile, raising your cheekbones for good measure, but seeing its failure to convince otherwise.

“That means I did do something wrong,” he said, smiling bitterly. “Sorry. I’m not the best at picking up cues.”

“I told you, Chan. I just got cold.”

He sighed and turned to reach for something behind, pulling over something thick and warm over your body, covering your torso and legs. “Here. So you won’t catch anything.”

There’s that familiar clang to your heart you should be used to by now, following the marching band that typically arrives after inside your chest. “Thank you.”

You both sat in silence for a bit, continuing to watch the rest of the movie. He makes so attempt to communicate with his friends outside and he doesn’t smile, only focusing on the movie, insistent on being in your presence. You aren’t sure how to behave, fingers inching at lingering awkwardness.

“If I’m being honest,” You started saying, filling the charged air with something other than tension, “I didn’t expect to see that many people with us.”

“You didn’t?”

You shook your head. “I misunderstood all on my own. Don’t worry about it. Let’s just finish the movie.”

“Hey—“

“I’m feeling warmer already,” You said, grinning as yourself deeper into the blanket.

Your eyes were ready to train back in the movie before he spoke again, hearing a tone in his voice you weren’t all that familiar with. “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable alone with me. I guess I did anyway.”

Guilt festered in the out of your stomach, regretting making a big scene out of nothing. “That’s not—“

“I got scared,” he admitted, the corner of his lips quirking up in a self-loathing grin. “They already saw my tickets so they thought they would get some too. Make it a group thing. I didn’t want it initially, but I thought, maybe it’d make things easier…I should’ve run it by you.”

You met his eyes, earnest yet soft. You didn’t know how to respond to any of this, processing his confession slowly. A fit of emotions wash over him and you see now the inner conflict that he had dealt with, somehow washing you over with relief. The final deep exhale you let out was solace, thinking to yourself how situations like this only happen in movies and books. You’re warm all over, an overwhelming urge to reach over and hug him, a fellow rambling mess.

“You didn’t misunderstand anything. I did want to go to the movies with you, but I wasn’t sure if you felt pressure or—“

You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his. He stiffened under your touch, blinking back at you like a lost child. You smiled back at him from ear to ear and body leaned over on his side. “Just hold my hand. We’re not going to cause any more misunderstandings. Okay?”

He matched you, his pearly whites staring back at you as pretty as ever. “Okay.” His thumb caressed over your fingers, noticing something interesting as he did so. “It’s purple.”

“Hmm,” You looked down at your clasped hands, noticing that same thing he did: your mood ring in a solid rich purple. “It is.”

“Do you remember what purple means?”

You avoid edhis eyes, quietly laughing to yourself. “You know better than anyone.”

“I do.” He tightened his grip, head leaning against your shoulder and it felt as if time had stopped. You don’t doubt that he can hear your heart racing right or your uneven breathing. He turned the ring around your digit, watching how the colors periodically shift. “I won’t let there be any more misunderstandings.”

Since that incident, you went about your tutoring sessions as normal, with the additional intimacy that didn’t exist before. You both gradually developed these sessions into more study dates and then they became real dates. Things only became official when the semester finally ended and he continued wanting to see you, visiting your place whenever you got the chance using any possible excuse.

You could remember how happy you felt at the time. The relief there was to know he liked you back. It was almost as if you were living a dream. A damn perfect dream.

Then your first kiss came around. You were as nervous as anyone anticipating the first. Every doubt in the past didn’t matter, only now did. Everything all led up to this point. It just happened in the way you least expected it to.

You didn’t know why he insisted on teaching you how to play arcade games when he was just as bad. Still, it was cute seeing him try so hard. The firmness of his back followed your movement, guiding you to the right combos, shifting the joystick to move in the right direction, and although it was all wrong, you appreciated the back hug you were getting in return. Even the claw machine had to be a teaching lesson, insisting he had something to teach you. 

“I did it. Chan, I did it!” You saw the stuffed dinosaur grabbed by the metal prongs, dropping right into the winner’s slot. You bounced on your feet cheering and took Chan along with you, hugging him tightly as your inner child healed and squealed at your achievement.

“I knew you could! You’re amazing.” His strong arms came around you firmly, pressing you against the glass of the machine.

Your breath was seized, replaced with weightlessness and tension in your chest that doesn’t seem to want to leave and perhaps you didn’t want it to. Although he didn’t pull away from the embrace, he parted far enough to meet your eyes and the longing in them. He knew what it was because that’s what was in his eyes, falling into their trance like a lucid dream that had him higher than any recreational drug. Neither one of you was willing to let it go, so all you do is stare. Stare at each other like you’re in your own world and no one else’s. As if life as you know it ceased to exist except for you and Chan. Nothing else matters.

When it felt as if you could imagine a more perfect moment, he leaned in with closed eyes, finding your lips like they were a second home and stealing your breath. You thought to lean in to kiss him deeper, but he already had found his grasp and pressed into you closer against the glass, feeling every ounce of muscle and shape of his body beneath his clothes. His shallow breath against yours, his hug of lips pulling at your bottom lip, and he emitted a soft grunt.

He pulled away from you with his arms still wrapped around your sides, shocked by his impulsivity. He stroked the side of your head, scanning for any fear in your eyes, slightly relieved to see any in sight. “I’m sorry. That was…a lot, huh?”

You shook your head reassuringly. “No.”

“Then I can kiss you again?”

The corners of your lips turned up, gripping his jean jacket to pull him closer. “Yes.”

You were kissing for hours that day and the next day, and then again the day after. Since then, something has shifted and these teenage dreams turned reality into something less family friendly. Your nights in his dorm became more frequent, more intimate, and always backed by a melody thanks to a record player gifted to him by his dad when he moved out. His prized possession, besides you anyway, as he claimed.

“What do you want to be when you’re older,” he asked, dragging his digits in and out between yours. He smiled, noticing your mood ring turning a mix of pink and purple before kissing your knuckles. “You know I want to be a nurse. What’s your dream?”

In the background was Led Zeppelin, their intoxically addictive tune spinning on the table. You thought to yourself a bit before turning your head back up at him, nuzzling closer into his warm touch before answering. “I want…to be surrounded by the people I love.”

He laughed like he heard the sweetest thing on planet Earth before his fingers threaded through your hair. “Baby, that’s sweet but not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant, but it’s what I want. It doesn’t matter much what I do, as long as I’m with my loved ones.”

“Am I one of these loved ones? Do you love me?” 

“Yeah. I love you.” You didn’t even hesitate, the words were always on the tip of your tongue until that final push. You lifted alight above him to repeat yourself louder. You let him heed your words. “I think I really love you.”

You thought he’d react differently, more scared and unsure but—“I love you too.”

“Chan,” you smile, warm filling your inside as you let your breath chase away the race in your chest.

“I mean it.” He bent his head down to meet your lips, cupping your cheek with the warmth of his palm. “I really, really love you.”

Chan toppled over you, lips meeting yours repeatedly in a heated frenzy, caressing your body and holding you desperately against him as you did the same to him. He kept you between his legs, whispering it over and over, ‘I love you, I love you,’ blistering and marking your skin. How was it that made you feel as if you weren’t allowed to breathe? 

Before you realize it, clothes started coming off. Piece by piece. As ‘Babe I’m gonna leave you’ replayed, shirts, belt, pants, and everything underneath fell to the ground. You saw him. You saw all of him. And he saw all of you. Your instinct was to shield away, be conscious of your then and there but in his own way, he reassures you, speaking to you as though all his words were nothing but the earnest truth. “I’m here. You’ll never have to worry about me not being here. I love you so much.”

Your flesh spilled through his fingers, imprinting his hands through your nude. Sounds of worship leaving his lips between every kiss, not even the worry of lack of condoms could stop him. Your thighs were glued to his hips, and you felt the warmth of his length titter to your fresh heat. You moaned every time you met lips, every bite he gave to your skin, and every full twist his fingers made with your sensitive buds before filling the inside of his oral cavity of your full breast.

You ached to have him in you, hand barely reaching his girth before wrapping a tight wrist around him. He shuddered at your touch, thrusting through the circle of your palm. You felt the need in his movement as he grinded down on his couch, not minding the wool burn inevitable to be left behind. Weak chuckles escaped his lips and he flashed you a smile, seconds away from melting into helpless groans. “You know just how to handle me…”

“Only because you treat me so well.”

Kissing one breast and then the other, he reached your lips as he held your thighs against the sides of his torso. “And I’ll do it for as long as I’m alive.”

You looped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself against him, his warm breath tickling the tip of your nose. “Make love to me. I wanna feel you inside me.”

“Then I won’t wait a second longer.”

The moment you felt him inside you, you felt higher than anything you could find in a blunt offered by the shady next-door neighbor. You buckled into him, lifting your hips off the couch for a fully bloomed taste. The stretch he left had your jaw falling, clutching to his shoulder, and letting out exasperated breaths. You nearly choked on your own spit that had only forced it down when he picked up the pace.

You molten walls only sucked him in deeper, calling his name in blurred whines. Each thrust and each kiss was fueled by an undying passion. He carried you, palm to your back and your legs around his waist, and pulled you on top of him. From beneath you, he drilled your insides, meeting your longing expression. 

Your fingers draped over his face, and you held on to his blissful expression that occasionally dropped in anguish when chasing after his rhythm. You whined his name desperately, clinging to him as you dug down your hips down his lap. He moaned louder than before, gingerly cupping your breasts and finding your stiff nipples between his fingers.

“You feel so good taking me…and your tits are so soft and warm.” He pushed himself to thrust hard, pleased with how easily you easily bounced against him, watching your flesh moving loud and fluidly like water. “You’re so perfect to hold, and love, and fuck my dick into—shit.”

Your chest rose and fell catching up with his efforts. “Chan, I love you so much.”

“I love you too. So, so, so—fuck!”

You felt his grip grow tighter and saw his jaw drop lower. His legs clenched to your sides impulsively, unwilling to let go. Soon enough, he couldn’t take it anymore and came inside you. He looked as if everything in his brain told him not to, but it seemed that nothing could stop the geyser within him from coating your insides with hot ivory. He snapped into you in an erratic rhythm, cum spilled in you and out of him until it stained the wool underneath.

Chan was red in the face, both in embarrassment and heat. He looked up at you in panic at the direness of circumstance considering neither one of you thought to stay protected. “Shit, fuck,” he exclaimed still pumping inside you, “you feel so good. I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, bending down to kiss him. “It’s okay, just don’t stop…please…”

His stressed expression melted, as did his fingers into your skin. He caressed over your sides with love in his eyes, swallowing nervously. “Really, baby? That ok?”

Perspiration coated his skin, beading down his adam’s apple as it bobbed. You felt like mush in his touch, letting your hips make use of the natural lubricant. Your boyfriend groaned at the sound of the slick moisture sliding over his skin. You cupped his face in your hands, working your jaw in a needy liplock. “Yes, please. Fuck your cum in me, please.”

His fingers tensed, dragging your lips to slap down on his. He exhaled slowly, your walls hugging his cock erect. He asked in a breathy voice, “Fuck my cum in you…my pretty girlfriend wants something so dirty done to her?”

“Yes, yes, please…” You whined.

He slammed up into you, feeling how he’s already bottoming out inside you. Hearing you moan his name lit a fire beneath him and he rolled you on your back to rut in you like a merciless animal. 

“You want my cum in you, hmm? Fill you up with my cum and put my fat load in you?”

You jerked in the opposite direction, your skin smacking against each other causing the tenderness of your skin. “Yes, please,” You choked out, “I want it all with you.”

His lips picked up from the corner in a smirk, turning you back over to plant you against the couch while his feet finally touched the ground. “You want it all? Like a life? A family? You want me to build a family with me…have me fuck my babies into you?”

“Yes, baby, please. I want you to fill me up so I can make you a daddy.”

“You love me that much?” He slammed into you with a proud smile. “You love me so much you see your future with daddy?”

You batted your lashes back at him. “I see every day either full of joy or full of your cum inside me.”

He snickered before biting his lips in a filthy moan, “Such a dirty mouth on the mother of my kids.”

You’re spent by the time your legs gave out, and you and your boyfriend exhausted your bodies to the point you couldn’t move even an inch off the couch. Cum seeped out of your holes like sap, only halted as you pressed your legs together to get comfortable. Chan had barely enough energy to tug a blanket off from behind him and throw it over your bodies. You smiled into his warmth, nuzzling into his chest, and inhaling his lusty musk. 

You moaned in satisfaction. “Mmh, I like this…”

“Me too.” He hummed.

“I never want this to end.”

“And it won’t,” he said, kissing the temple of your forehead.

“Are you hungry?”

You moaned. “Starving.”

He chuckled, holding you closer to him as his voice dropped an octave. “Let’s fill you up with something, hmm?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling as you lightly shoved him. “Chan…”

“Food, babe,” he said with a cheeky smile, “get your mind out of the gutter.”

After a quick shower, and a few wet kisses in between, you’re set to refresh yourselves with some fast food and can’t help but be filled with elation. You cozied into the passenger seat accepting the hand he’s offered as the other steadied the wheel. You can’t help but notice how he glanced every now and then when he shouldn’t, making you nudge him to fix his gaze.

It was always a loving one, one that you’d forever burn in your memory. You don’t even know why, but you shed a tear looking at it. That smile of his seems to go on for miles and brightens your day like the morning sun. You felt it in your heart. Something suffocating that you couldn’t describe but all you think in your head is that this was love and that loving Chan would be the easiest thing you could do.

He sent you another glance before making a turn, one a little longer than the few before, then all you heard was a loud blaring honk, your voice screaming his name, and then your vision went pitch black. You stared into darkness. Emptiness. Nothing was in sight. 

That was until your eyes were open again. You woke in a place of all white, smelling of antiseptic and a hint of febreeze. You slowly blinked, scanning the room, unmoving. Still, in fact.

“Good afternoon, Sunshine. Sleep well?”

You only could see who entered when they walked in your field of vision. Your eyes stared in shock at the sight of your boyfriend, smiling back at you in scrubs as he wrote away in his clipboard and looking as if he hadn’t aged a day. You internally screamed at your body to move, crying from within the inside at the inability, and then soon growing tired, realizing it’d never be possible. As he put away documents in a file holder pinned to the high wall, you stressed your throat to speak, hoping for the least a sound to follow, but instead, it was your silence.

“I’ll just open the blinds a bit, make sure they’re not too much light in your eyes. Too bad your nap was a little long. The weather was so good. I thought we could roll you out into the garden.”

You are losing your mind. The last thing you could remember was a car accident that felt like mere seconds ago and staring into the eyes of the man before you, who matched the love in your eyes. Now you’re imprisoned in your own immobile body, with no clue why and how the love of your life survived when you barely did.

“Your heart is pounding. Wait a second.”

Chan strode over to the monitor just out of view, forcing yourself to rely on your peripheral to watch him. His side profile and his body were all within reach but unassessable. You felt the sweat of your palm through the sheer determination alone, but to no avail, he stayed away from your grasp.

“Hmm, we’ll have to figure that out.”

Finishing up, he stood in front of you like a figure of light radiating brightness unfathomable to man. A light bright enough to fully grasp your reality. Your true reality.

That’s right. He’s not your boyfriend. You were never together.

You’ve been the way you were for two years, by a car accident nonetheless. This was Nurse Lee–your caretaker and nurse–who insisted you call him by name and talked to you as if you could talk right back. 

And this wasn’t the 1970s. It was the 2070s. 

Your gaze quickly turned to “Three's a Company” playing on the highly advanced TV plastered on the wall, momentarily surprised that they still had the show on cable, before snapping right back to your nurse, now going on about the daily work gossip. You couldn’t help but stare again, watching his handsome face turn up in a smile every time something delightful popped into his pretty little head as he spoke. Your eyes fluttered in remorse, a familiar sinking feeling in your chest as you inhaled and exhaled through your breathing tubes.

It all made so much sense. Too much in fact. Here you were in dreamland living in disbelief that someone as sweet and kind and Charming as Lee Chan—nurse Lee Chan—would ever be someone so madly in love with you. You lived a happy and healthy and normal life in your dreams, shutting off from the dark truth of your world is, as if you’ve never been in this accident. You dreamt of life before it was taken away before you narrowly escaped death.

If you could call this escaping death anyway. You were practically dead.

And perhaps the worst part—

“Vivian liked the flowers you suggested. I think she’ll finally stop being mad at me thanks to you.” 

He gently moved your head to fluff the pillow behind you and placed you back on top. He brushed away a hair that strayed over your face, and you felt a sensation pulse through your fingers. “I wish you could meet her. You’ve always been there to listen to me talk about the wedding planning, the bridal stuff, and then the actual wedding. I hope you liked the photos, the guy we hired was—phew—a pretty penny.”

You started to blink rapidly, seeing your reality crumbling before you, and all he could do was look as devastatingly beautiful as always, even with the dark circle under his eyes from long hours of work. 

“I talk a lot, huh? That’s what you’re thinking. Sorry, you’ve always been a listener, not that you can help it.” He chuckled to himself. “Sorry, dark joke. I’m sure if you could move now, you’d laugh.”

No, you wouldn’t.

“I’ll be out of your hair in a second. Don’t worry.” 

He did the last round of his thorough check-up of your room before standing by the door with his clipboard in hand. Clicking his pen, he turned back to you one last time with a smile now turned bittersweet.

“Any day now. Your heart pulses a little faster every day. Your family is waiting for you. And because I’ve grown attached to you I’m waiting for you too. Maybe after all this, we could be friends, then you can tell me how much you love or hate when I talk to you. Just as long as you’re up and running again.”

The moment the door closed, you were alone again. The fluid built in your tear ducts finally found their escape and streamed down your still face, facing their discomforting warmth. Your chest heaved, your grew breaths shallow, your throat went dry, and suddenly your lips quivered. In solitude and sheer desperation, you said your first words in years.

“Chan…come…back…”

But it didn’t matter.

[popatochisssp]

Would it be too much to ask what kind of jobs the new skeles might have since you already shared bram would be a groundskeeper at a cemetery?

Looks like I never officially did this one for Wave 2, just Wave 1 over here.

So, while we’re at it, let's do 2 and 3!

Ash (Undergloom Sans): He’s semi-unemployed, or self-employed depending on how you look at it. He busks, playing his trombone out on the street and accepting donations from anyone who feels so inclined. He likes playing music and the idea of brightening peoples’ days in the middle of their commute, so the money doesn’t really matter to him. Sometimes he picks up small gigs at local venues, mostly by word of mouth, and eventually he breaks into the tutoring scene—teaching his favorite instrument to young aspiring musicians who find the same joy in it that he does.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): He works as a professor at the local community college, teaching anthropology. He’s passionate about the subject and can’t think of anything he’d rather do than share it with a classroom of humans who probably have no idea how interesting they really are. If only one student walked away from his class with a new appreciation for what humanity’s all about then he’s fulfilled—but he tends to send a lot more away with that than just one, since he’s a very popular, friendly, and accessible teacher.

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): He’s self-employed, knitting blankets at home and selling them online. He doesn’t need a job at all, between the Queen and his brother, money’s not an issue, but he’d go crazy if he didn’t have something to do all day, and nobody wants to see what he looks like when he goes crazy. He takes commissions often, but other times he just makes things according to whatever he’s feeling and what color yarn he has handy and sells to whoever feels like buying it.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): He works as a physical therapist. He more or less taught himself to walk again after losing his leg, and a second time after getting a replacement, so he very personally understands the need that exists for people who are injured and want to get back to their normal life—but maybe lack the discipline, the knowledge, or the tools to take that journey solo. He’s hard on his patients and sadistically merciless, but his success rate in terms of mobility recovered is very high and any complaints after the fact are begrudging at worst.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): He’s a home baker, making cakes and small pastries for a small but growing client base. He likes the freedom of getting to pursue his passions seriously and to be his own boss, set his own hours, screen his own clients, et cetera. He puts a lot of time and care into what he makes, both in terms of flavor and decoration, and finds nothing quite so satisfying as a repeat customer or a glowing review and recommendation to someone new.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): Freelance programming is what he does for cash. It was something he could both learn how to do and actually do remotely, without the need for more than the bare minimum of in-person contact. He likes problem-solving, and complaining about the problem-solving, and the field is pretty much always in demand so if he’s bored of certain kinds of jobs, or sick of the person giving him the jobs, he can jump ship at any time and be a contractor someplace else.

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): He’s a boxer, more amateur than pro so he doesn’t make a ton doing it, at least not consistently, but he likes fighting and draws in a decent crowd by being a bit of a spectacle (a blind skeleton in the ring) so the entertainment value is worth something. Aside from that, eventually, he fills in for his brother as a combination business partner/agent/accountant, helping him get jobs and keep clients and manage the money he makes doing so.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): He’s unemployed for a long while, but ultimately breaks into professional photography, with a specialty in travel photographs. He likes taking pictures and getting to see the world in the process, and it helps that it’s a family business so he and his brother have pretty much full control over what jobs he takes and for how much. He doesn’t really concern himself with the money numbers, though, he just likes filling out his portfolio with gorgeous locales all around the world.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): He does a lot of odd jobs, all over the place, generally (things that are considered) unskilled labor—bussing tables, janitorial work, desk clerking, that kind of thing. He doesn’t like the thought of getting too stuck into any one thing and being unable to try something else out later if it doesn’t work out, and there’s something to be said for the satisfaction of being closely connected to the results of your labor. Sometime down the line he will end up sticking in one career, as a dealer for a casino, because it combines his social, charming nature with his sharp eye and quick hands, but until then he’s happy to bounce around.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): He’s a bookkeeper at a nondescript company. He’s organized and thorough with record-keeping and double-checking data, and he likes putting those skills to use to make sure his employer’s finances and transactions all balance out at the end of the day. Some might find it boring work and he could almost certainly qualify for a much more ‘prestigious’ job doing something else, but he’s satisfied having a job that doesn’t require all of his effort and brainpower, so he can save some of that for his personal life and private interests.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans): He’s a nomad, a wanderer, he has no job. He’s a robot in the shape of a monster—ostensibly still a monster, even so—in a world full of humans that as yet believe monsters don’t exist, so even if he wanted a job, getting one would be logistically difficult. Luckily, he feels no special need to be gainfully employed and just spends his time wandering around and taking in the world. If he needs something, he’ll either just take it or use one of his brother’s accounts to pay for it.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus): He’s a performer, a disc jockey who mixes, makes, and plays music to crowds at clubs, raves, and discos, anywhere he’s welcome. He takes advantage of the perception of his holographic form as an artist’s gimmick, like Daft Punk, Hatsune Miku, dead musicians projected onto stages to play posthumously… In his defense, that last one is sort of exactly what he is, except he didn’t really start making music until after he died. Still, he has fun doing it and adores the fame he’s steadily gaining as a popular, cutting-edge technology music act.

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans): He does aura readings for people. For those interested to know, he shares his perception of their colors and the flow of energy in and around them, and just generally describes the sense he gets about a person. What he does is really more of a soul read than an aura read, so a lot of the color meanings and terminology he uses contrast with the kind of readings his clients may get from humans who practice something a little bit different. Still, he’s earnest in his desire to help people understand themselves and their energies and emotions, so he gets a lot of recommendations and repeat clientele who trust he’s the real deal.

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus): He works as an event planner, organizing gatherings, arranging vendors, booking venues, the whole nine. He has a great reputation for making things go smoothly and always seems to be able to talk out bumps and snags before they ever become a major problem. He also maintains great relationships with people in the industry and delights in having connections just about everywhere in case he needs to call on a favor to make something happen for a client. He's got the magic touch and the silver (gold) tongue that makes everything fall into place just so.

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans): He works as a clerk at a pawn shop. He gets to handle a lot of interesting items and assess roughly how much they’d be worth, and he’s pretty good at haggling and negotiating with people who might not agree with said assessments. Sometimes people will come in with broken stuff they wouldn’t be able to get too much for, but maybe he can cut ‘em a deal, fix it up on his own dime and if they come back for it, great—and if they don’t, his boss’ll be happy to have something that works to sell to somebody else at a markup, how ‘bout it? He does a brisk business and both sides of the counter love him.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus): He’s in construction. He’s huge, strong, takes direction well, and diligently follows rules and protocols—he’s an ideal fit for it. He likes to work hard and be able to see a job come together, knowing he had a part in it and being satisfied with the quality of his contribution. He especially likes to take every safety training and equipment certification course he can attend because he likes knowing what the rules are and being specifically told how certain procedures are run, machines operated, et cetera. He’s very likely to be apprenticed in as a foreman if not the inheritor someday of the construction business by its current owner for his work ethic and dedication, but that’ll be a long ways from now.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans): He works as an independent auditor and combs through companies’ records, internal and external documentation, processes, and accounting and ensures everything is being done in accordance with industry standards. In short, he shows up, demands to see everything they have, and looks through it to see if they’ve lied, did something wrong, or lost information they weren’t supposed to. Sometimes he can do this remotely but other times he has to travel out to a physical office somewhere and sit down with a bunch of stuffed file cabinets, and he really doesn’t mind either way. He likes the work and he’s good at it—maybe because he’s good at it—and he finds it satisfying to catch the tiniest little misses and errors to demand an accounting of them.

Hunter (Swapfell Fruition Papyrus): He’s a trail maintenance worker for Ebott National Park. He walks the paths and hiking trails and makes sure they’re safe and unobstructed for visitors, as well as whatever odd jobs in the area that happen to come up—looking out for invasive species, helping with a bench install, directing lost tourists, that kinda thing. It’s not especially glamorous work but it’s pretty much exactly where he wants to be and he’s happy to do it, probably wouldn’t pick any other job in the world…except maybe to volunteer for a seasonal fire-watch position and do pretty much the exact same thing, but more isolated and with a big cool tower to sit in.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans): He works as a mortician at a local funeral home. He generally isn’t expected (read: allowed) to deal with grieving families, that’s more the funeral director’s purview, but he works behind the scenes embalming, processing, and otherwise preparing the dead for their final party and last ride home. He has a strong stomach—or rather, no stomach at all—and doesn’t get squeamish or emotional about the dead, so that works out. They also let him work nights so he has several long, quiet hours of methodically going through the routine with no (living) humans around to irritate him or vice-versa. Sounds like a good gig to him.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus): Yes, still a groundskeeper for the cemetery and loving it. It was something he kind of fell into through his brother, when he didn’t really know what he wanted to do on the Surface, but his brother sends dead humans off to their final resting place and said final resting place was looking for someone to dig holes, mind the grass, keep everything looking neat and nice—and that’s certainly something he can do! He also works nights, being that monsters are almost entirely nocturnal these days, so he’s also an unintentional scarecrow deterrent to teenagers sneaking in late for partying or spooky dares when they see a slim, bony silhouette materialize out of the shadows with a shovel in hand, asking if they’re just visiting or thinking about moving in.…

[saint-vagrant]

heyyy, somehow gained many new followers recently. thank you very much for enjoying my work! in light of that, let's do a small introduction.

i'm Seosamh Dáire, or you can call me joe. he/him • sé/é only. transsexual butch man and leatherdyke ✦ fear tras/aiteach agus gearrán 🐗

i'm a painter, comic author-illustrator, web/html artist, petty designer, smalltime archivist, passionate marxist. i like anime and virtual pets both from ~1990. as someone working primarily with past decades, i'm interested in broadening our ideas of time/place and who was in it. pro-palestine, native rights and strong proponent/student of irish-native solidarity, blm, roma, the works (uninterested in debating these topics!)

i make trans gay art for perverts and i was recently an artist in residence in the Burren, focusing on traditional paintings and reflecting/writing on being Queer In The Land.

SUPERPOSE: the tremendous dark trans sci-fi comic i make with my life+work partner Anka @kingfisher-cove . take a look! this project is my whole LIFE, and almost every piece i make pertains to it, so if you're unsure of who or what my images are of, that's a safe bet. the comic is recommended for mature readers. here's a brief synopsis,

An ongoing queer sci-fi horror comic about physics.

On the Atlantic coast, in a town called PORT CITY— “a place out of time”

While a tourist destination boasting a popular beach and boardwalk, Port City is also home to ROMAN LABS, an aerospace-turned-tech company now floundering in the tech boom.

Rafael and Royal are each listless in their own lives as longtime locals with little mobility, whose orbits have only occasionally overlapped, until now. Turning a job at the lab into a last-ditch effort for a glimpse of a more equitable future brings Royal and Rafael together, and beaches Kas, a young physicist, on Port City’s shores.

Together they seize the opportunity to alter their future and carve out a place in time for themselves, finally shaking the town and their lives from standstill. Changing history begins with the machine.

(also a supplementary web art/ARG aspect, using flat digital spaces to create a sense of 3d depth and narrative.)

SUPERPOSEBLOG @superposeblog is the repository for all updates and news about the comic.

198X.LOVE our homepage & portfolio

PATREON is where i share most of my work first, early comic pages, WIP, process and thoughts and other resources. it's a direct way to support mine & my partner's work. we are an independent team of two and i'm sure you can appreciate the effort and dedication to managing our practise as well as life obligations. for one-time support, there's also ko-fi. thank you!

i've also begun a new, as of yet unnamed 18+ comic about trans disposability/sapped as a resource + weird blood + nuclear war. so look out for that next year 😘

[octuscle]

Dear Support-Team,

I just downloaded the App for my mobile but I guess I'm too overwhelmed with all these settings. Thats whyy I am asking you for help.

I'm 25 years old, german. Just finished university and now I'm working a boring job, but at least good income.

Sometimes I see old classmates (the cool kids, most of them are Moslem and with Arabian (?) family backgrounds) on Instagram and I wonder: where would I be today if these People where my friends at school and today...

I don't know how to program the app to find out. Hopefully you can help.

Thanks a lot!

What a cool car! Your father-in-law was really generous. But when you marry his son tonight, when your new brothers and cousins block the inner-city ring road of Dortmund honking their horns, when you dance in the streets and shoot your guns in the air, then everyone should also see that someone is getting married here who made it. An alpha Arab. And you, his German husband.

Damn, you wouldn't have thought that twelve years ago. You were only 13 years old. And a car fanatic. But your father was unemployed and your mother had to work as a cleaning lady. In life, you would never be able to afford one of the cars that stood at the luxury car dealer in the industrial park. That's where the soccer stars of Borussia Dortmund bought their cars. And other people you didn't even want to know where they got their money from. You always stood in front of the shop windows with wide eyes. And then you took heart and asked if you could have a student job. To be allowed to be close to the wonderful cars. And then you started vacuuming floor mats, polishing rims, cleaning air vents with a toothbrush. Always on time, always hardworking, always thorough. The boss's eldest son quickly noticed this, and as a result he gave you more and more errands to run. And more and more responsible tasks.

You must have been about 16 years old, you had just finished secondary school and changed to high school when the Aouns invited you home for the first time. And that's when you saw Chafik for the first time. A cool man. Well built, well dressed, disarming smile. It was probably love at first sight. Even if you had to keep your love a secret for a long time. But in the years that followed, you earned the unreserved trust of the Aouns. At the latest, when your mother died of breast cancer and your father later of his alcohol consumption, you were the sixth son here. And at some point it was clear that there was more than brotherly love between you and Chafik. Mr. Aouns was furious. But at some point he accepted that he could not imagine a better son-in-law than you.

After graduating from high school with honors, you joined the family business and took over the fitness center division. And you made the business flourish. In the meantime, more pharmaceuticals were sold in your gyms than in the pharmacy of the nearest university hospital. And you were always clean. Even if you didn't convert to Islam, you didn't drink alcohol. Of course you would have liked to decorate your muscles with tattoos. But that would not have been godly. At some point, you fit perfectly into the clan. As one of the area leaders. You were only always the only one without a beard and with a smooth chest.

You turn into the underground car park of your mansion at the Phoenixsee. Now you have to hurry. In an hour you will marry Chafik dressed in a suit. Then suddenly you are Christian Aoun. Although no one calls you Christian anymore anyway. Because of your radiant smile, you're just Bassem to everyone here!

Thank you, @jacobadler2 for the perfectly fitting picture!

[workfromhomejobs987]

Work From Home Part Time jobs,

More Details

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being upset at my mom?

🎵🎵 (to find it)

I know it's not a real big deal, but it's starting to get upsetting. English is not my first language and im on mobile sl sorry about that.

Okay, so my(20f) mother (F mid40s) suffer from long covid. Her symptoms consist of chronic fatigue, short breath, join pain and brain fog. (I still live home because im a college student, and finding an appartment in this market is hell)

We've been really supportive of her :

I drive most of the time, and my sister(16f) has her apprentice driver license, so she drives for mom when im at school; when we go to the mall and she need to take a break to breath, i always offer to go get her a wheelchair, or going to get the car, she sleeps a lot in the day so we don't make noise, i bought her loops earplug for sleeping, etc.

We're are used to it and my dad (mid40s too) work 12 hours a day to compensate for the money we're losing with mom on sickleave (where we live we have job insurance and etc): he starts at 5:30am to 6pm, and i usually only see him in the evening, so the only time we really are together as a family is during the evening meal.

There is where i could be the a-hole:

Since mom got long covid, it takes more time for her to respons us, and her memory isnt as good as it was (shes well known in her workplace, she a well respected manager who takes great care of her employees). It's just, almost every night, when me or my sister or even my dad are telling a something that happened in our day, she always cut us to say something, like :don't forget to put this in that, or just to say something she did that day over our own story, or asking me to bring her water in the middle of my sister's sentences (which she could have waited for after she was done).

So we, someone different each time, always tell her "X was speaking, you just cut them, and you do this often, please let them finish" and, well, when it happens everytime i am (or my sister) is trying to say something, it get upsetting. And she always uses the same reasons: "we're a family and we're cohabiting, sometime we talk over you but still listen to you" (no she doesn’t, i have to tell her a million times the same fucking thing and she always forget) or "you know my mind is a little slow right now, i'll forget if i don't say it" or she gets upset because we're annoyed by it.

But god forbid if you cut her! She'll raise her tone, and still doesn't get why we're upset.

Like, i get it, she got long covid and it's a bitch to deal with the way your cognitive capabilities slow down with the fatigue, but we've been extremely helpful (and im still gonna be, because she's my mother) and her allowing herself to lack respect towards us doesn't excuse her because she's ill. At least this is how i see it?

At this point i dont really know if i can feel upset? Like, she's my mom, and she's ill (and it's really depressing seeing her this put down by the symptoms i don't wish it to anyone) but im just so tired to have to restart the same sentence four or five time because she keep interrupting me

So, aita?

What are these acronyms?

[ghostsbimbo]

Simon Riley with a significant other whose a daycare/Pre-K teacher or teacher's assistant.

this is fairly short due to being on mobile!!

⚝ Simon would totally take care of them when they get hit with a cold from their job - and whenever it happens within the first few years because god the colds are rough. It would continue until they can finally figure out a routine that works for them, and actually does start wearing masks around this time because, hey, COVID was actually smart with the mask mandate.

⚝ Simon helps them out on nights when they're trying to make lesson plans for their students - if kindergarten students - who have affectionately earned the nickname of their "little wonders".

⚝ The fridge is always covered in art work from their kids. A few kids even drew Simon and asked his significant to send them to him if on deployment or give them to him when he's home. Their office wall is no different.

He immediately apologizes and gives them more candy to calm them down. It totally worked.

⚝ Simon coming in and helping them out on party days. The students? LOVE HIM. he's basically a jungle gym to them. One boy even says he wants to be as big and strong as him - he totally didn't melt at the statement.

He doesn't wear his mask, per their request because they're worried about scaring the kiddos. They do gently remind them to not ask about the scars every once in a while.

⚝ Simon tries to do their teacher voice sometimes when they're getting more rowdy than you and your teacher aide can handle, but it scares them on accident.

⚝ Simon totally can't help but fall in love with his significant other even more while watching them interact with their kiddos, enough to the point that after the day is over and they're on their way home together, he just bluntly states he wants a kid with them.

[lazyyogi]

Zhan Zhuang: Standing Meditation

The body of the average modern human being has become a dysregulated, disconnected mess of weakness, tightness, tension, chronic pain, and numbness.

In a word, imbalanced.

Some of that may be an inescapable aspect of our mortal form, such as a chronic disease or permanent injury, which then must be accepted and accommodated. But in many other instances, this poor state of the body is a result of our own misuse and neglect.

How often do you simply stand? Not leaning one way or the other, not shifting your weight from foot to foot, not contorting your posture around a mobile phone or heavy bag.

A multitude of people work office jobs or are students of rigorous academics and they will spend many hours sitting. During the first year of the pandemic, when most people were staying at home, I found myself sitting or lounging all the time.

It was during the pandemic that I first began to practice Zhan Zhuang, Standing Like a Tree.

As I have begun standing for very long surgeries, I have made an effort to return to this practice daily. It has made an immense difference.

Zhan Zhuang

The premise of this standing practice is simple.

You stand. You breathe. And that's it.

There are some finer points to the posture, which should be integrated as one acclimates to the practice.

One can imagine how this develops a sense of being both grounded and centered. And it needn't be a long session. I have been doing 5-10 minutes with amazing results.

Beneath this deceptively simple practice, a profound shift unfolds over time. The body re-organizes itself in relation to the axis of gravity and in doing so it also pulls the body into a naturally harmonious alignment.

There are a number of resources for leaning zhan zhuang. I found a YouTuber with an excellent several week course for free:

Nick Loffree: Bioenergetic Health

Additionally, there is a site with a free PDF I quite liked:

Scott Jeffrey: Zhan Zhuang

Standing Meditation

So you may ask yourself: does this count as meditation?

My answer would be: it depends. It can be!

I would categorize this practice as somatic meditation. This means that if you are engaging your conscious attention with the physical sensation of the body as a whole and breathing silently with it, then it is a meditation practice.

If you are doing this while watching TV or something, it is still good for the body but I would not call it meditation.

Qi

Lastly, standing practice is also a beneficial method for discovering, gathering, and aligning qi.

Qi is something I have been exploring these days as part of my foray into somatic spirituality. I have yet to alight on a plain English translation that I really like. Qi has been called many different things previously: vital force, spirit, or simply energy. It seems to be very similar to the yogic concept of prana. Both are vital forces that relate to organic systems.

I am thinking "vital energy" may be a sufficient term, as it is distinct from even more subtle forms of energy spoken of within various occult/spiritual paradigms.

Regardless, I will be writing more about qi and somatic spirituality in the future. That said, standing meditation is a good fundamental practice with a number of benefits. Give it a try!

LY

[shinsengumi-archives]

Okita Souji's work schedule

During the Edo period, low-ranking samurai working at Edo Castle had a "three-day shift," working two days and taking the third day off.

Working hours were shorter than now, and the work was divided into morning, evening, and night shifts.

This may sound somewhat enviable, but the pay was low, and the workers ended up working long hours at their own side jobs.

On the other hand, what was the work schedule like for the Shinsengumi, who were paid well but had to work hard?

Since there are no historical materials about the service shifts of the Shinsengumi members, I would like to speculate based on some records.

Since the Shinsengumi were often mobilized for emergencies, there were relatively few incidents, and I have referred to the events from the first year of the Genji Era to the second year of the Keio Era, when the organization seemed to be in place after the assassination of Serizawa Kamo.

Off-duty days?

In the first year of the Genji era, Tomizawa Chuemon, the village head of Hino and a fellow student, went to Kyoto and wrote in his diary that he often visited the headquarters.

According to this, on 2/2, Hijikata, Inoue, and Okita were at the headquarters from around noon to evening.

The following month, on 3/5, they attended the Peach Blossom Banquet hosted by Kondo and others. Kondo, Hijikata, Inoue, Okita, Todo and others were there and returned home the next morning.

On March 11, a cherry blossom viewing party was held. Kondo, Hijikata, Inoue, Okita, Toudou, and Takeda Kanryusai attended. After the banquet, they moved to Shimabara for an after-party, so it's likely that they returned home in the morning on this day as well.

Although we do not know the start time of either banquet, they must have been off duty that day or the next day.

The next month, on April 11, a farewell party was held for Tomizawa who had completed what he set out to do and was returning home. This was attended by Kondo, Hijikata, Inoue, and Okita. Since the party was held in the evening, it cannot be said that they were off duty.

Work days

Except for emergency dispatches such as the Ikedaya Incident, there is nothing that shows Okita's work days in the First Squad.

The mistaken arrest that caused trouble with the Higo clan was introduced in the article "Okita Souji's Apology Conference". If this was the work of the First Squad, 9/8 of Keio 1 is a work day.

On the other hand, for some reason, an attendance record still exists for Takeda Kanryusai and the 7th Squad.

Takeda was involved in the capture of Masuya (Furutaka Shuntaro) on 6/5 of the first year of the Genji era and the Akebonotei Incident on 6/10. It is believed that he belonged to the 3rd Squad at that time.

In the 7th Squad, Yano Shigetaro was captured on 5/12 in the leap month of Keio 1. On 9/12 of the following year, there is a record of Sanosuke Harada leading his unit to the Sanjo Noticeboard Incident.

It's noteworthy that in the Sanjo Noticeboard Incident, it's clear from the subsequent historical materials that Squads 3, 5, and 7 were deployed.

Although the 1st squadron was not dispatched, the other odd-numbered squads were all dispatched together, probably because they were on the same shift.

Morning shift, night shift, 3-day shift?

Then, assuming that the "Peach Blossom Banquet" was off-duty, I created a shift based on the same "three-day shift" as that of Edo Castle.

Then, the "Tomizawa's Farewell Party" was also off-duty for odd-numbered teams.

Also, Hijikata Kennosuke, a member of the Sennin Doshin (Thousand Men Army) who had come to Kyoto, visited the headquarters and held a drinking party on September 18, Keio 1 (1865) [edit: corrected typo], also off-duty, and Okita and Inoue of the First and Third Corps attended all the parties.

Furthermore, none of the days when Takeda and 7th Squad were deployed fell on off-duty days, but rather on work days.

However, 2/2, when Tomizawa visited, was a work day on this shift. Considering that Okita and the others were drinking until the evening, they may have been on a different shift before the "Peach Blossom Party," or they may have been on duty from the evening.

Since the Sanjo Noticeboard incident also did not involve the First Squad, it's also possible that they were on morning-duty on this day.

This is just a hypothesis, but I think that the Shinsengumi took turns off-duty for each even-numbered and odd-numbered squad, and that there was a morning shift and an evening shift on working days.

There is a high possibility that the work interval is a "3 days shift", but if it's based on odd or even numbers, there will be days when all employees are dispatched, so there may have been another group.

However, when Iba Hachiro went to Kyoto, he worked once every four days. Other diaries from the same period show consecutive days of work and consecutive holidays, which are irregular and depend on the organization.

The Shinsengumi's work schedule was announced in the morning, so even if there was a general schedule, it would have varied.

Incidentally, according to this schedule, the day Okita wrote a letter to his hometown informing them of Sannan's death fell on a day he was off duty.

It may have taken him a long time to write that painful letter...

References

「新選組日誌　(上)」 菊地明・伊東成郎・山村竜也

「日本人は昔から働き者?知ると深い「江戸の労働」 濱田浩一郎

「幕末武士の京都グルメ日記　「伊庭八郎征西日記」を読む」　山村竜也　幻冬舎

「慶応元年御進発御用日記  十九歳の長州出兵記録」　日野の古文書を読む会研究部会　日野市郷土資料館

「新選組史料大全」　菊地明

[lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers]

I want to talk quickly about teacher pay. It's going to come up a lot I'm sure over the next few days. Teachers have had an (unfunded) pay rise this year (not all teachers have received it yet) and so the starting salary for a teacher is £28,000 outside of London.

Which sounds like a lot I'm sure.

Take home from that with my student loans and pension deductions is about £1,700. Still sounds like a lot, I'm sure.

I looked up the cheapest rent for a 1 bed flat where I used to live. That's now £700. Due to the amount of work you have to do at home, and especially during covid I think it's very difficult for teachers to live in shared houses. Of course some do, but for me, at that point it gets into the territory of "why am I bothering"

So, I worked out what would be left over based on my old bills, except electricity which I used my current bill for, because of price rises.

After essential bills only (including a car because it was essential in that town and mobile+ internet because they are considered essential for teachers by most schools), I worked out said teacher has £480 a month left over.

That's to cover any hobbies, buying clothes, any subscriptions, any money they spend on school stuff (which they will in most schools) any treats like a takeaway or god forbid a night out...

You can see it's not going to go that far. Like, sure, it's doable and you know in your second year of teaching it will go up etc etc.

But equally, when you're looking for jobs to apply to (and there are a lot) you'd potentially discount expensive towns. Maybe you'd live in a city and not have to run a car? Maybe you'd live in a cheaper location? (Maybe you'd decide it's not worth it and opt for that 32k grad scheme instead). (Maybe you'd opt out of your pension).

Anyway perhaps you start to see why some schools in some areas of the country struggle to recruit. In London, the pay is higher of course, but not in other expensive places like Bristol or Oxford etc.

And then equally you start thinking about couples who want to have a family. Childcare is crippling, they need to be able to afford a 2 bed house, even on M3/M4, it looks pretty unaffordable. Maybe one of them goes part time. Maybe one of them switches careers?

The point of this is not to be like "woe are teachers" because I know a lot of people have a lot lower take home pay. My point is that a) teachers are well qualified people with the option to switch careers b) we need teachers to be able to live in every part of the country.

Now, I can only see two possible solutions. Rent controls, or pay teachers more. Unfortunately, I'm not allowed to strike over housing costs, so therefore I'm left with the option of striking over pay.