#( THIS IS JUST ME WITH MY INCOHERENT BABBLING OF POTENTIAL RELATIONS &

[jardaddy-a]

@rapturam​​ delivered a letter !  ( plots please ! ( listen i adore what we talked about on my other blogs and some dynamics we have already i am SO curious for your lamb thoughts ) )┊   ⤏ send me “plots please”… and I’ll respond with  3  (or more)  interesting  plots / relationships / connections  I can think of for our muses! // ACCEPTING !

This took me a hot second to work on because I had to do speedrun Anthurium’s new icons and I know little from the game other than Dior rambling about how their cult is fucking dying LMAOOO .    Which I need to change , I need to know what the game is ABOUT !!! 

1.) 🍏 DAISY  &&.  LAMB  ━ Okay , let’s start with platonic / funky friendships !  Considering that the laniatura of Sanctum Natura are pretty much time travellers   &&.  they’re known for hopping through multiverses for fun   &&.  observation purposes , it’d be funny if Daisy wandered into lamb’s little world by chance .  Considering she’s a devout follower of her own Goddess , she would definitely be interested in exploring other cultures and learn how other creatures devote themselves to the deities of their domain .     So just imagine her just walking in with apple pie as a housewarming gift and seeing the cult and she’d be like “Okay what the FUCK is going on in here ?” / j .     

But I think Daisy would be a very good friend for Lamb considering she’s from a different domain , immortal ( so lamb wouldn’t fear any type of loss ) , and she would see Lamb as their own person ( or lamb )   &&.  seek out a genuine friendship since she would communicate with them as they truly are .   It would also make up for a good contrast in personalities considering Lamb seems to be a very reverent creature , and Daisy’s the complete opposite due to her overly cheerful personality , this girl can literally light up the entire room with her aura alone ( sometimes literally with her powers ) .  If Lamb wants a friend that they can truthfully be honest to , she’s the one for the job ! 

                                       MORE BELOW THE CUT  ! ! ! 

2.) 🎎 ANTHURIUM   &&.   LAMB ━ Okay , i offer the prospect of shipping .   I read your most recent post regarding Lamb’s perspective towards love and I offer (1) immortal priestess who has the full capability to see them beyond a mere figure of idolization   &&.   worship since she is outside of their jurisdiction , it’s easy for her to see and love them as who they truly are .  Like Daisy , she also works in the churches ( or temples ) of Existence .   Considering Lamb’s love languages are acts of service and quality time .    Anthurium is a very homely person and she adores doing simple and meaningful things for her lover .   If Lamb fancies eating anything or has any cravings ( do they even eat . . . ? ) , Anthurium is a brilliant cook and would make home-cooked meals for them .   Even the simplest actions of respect like cleaning the locations where they hold sermons or any of their ceremonial artifacts and totems , whatnot .  

And as for spending quality time , this girl has the eternity of life being a deity’s champion so she’s willing to earnestly take her time into getting to know Lamb in a pace where they feel most comfortable .  Both of them sort of resonate with me considering both of them have personal fears and traumas in relation to their pasts and they could possibly support each other and keep each other grounded , Anthurium distances herself from mortals because of her uncanny to attract the supernatural has cost her those she loved and she’s afraid of losing others to the same fate .  The only cons are the periods that she’s away considering she’s devoted to her tasks in her own world hence there will be moments where her presence is minimal and the fact that she’s a magnet for supernatural creatures .   But she will always come to them , despite their differing responsibilities she will still show her devotion to them .  She would be willing to gently hold their hoof if need be .    I just find it funny because Anthurium is a priestess that attracts supernatural creatures and spirits and she ended up with an eldritch lamb cult leader , wouldn’t that be a SIGHT ? 

3.) 🌹 ROSERED  &&.  LAMB ━ Another potentially cute platonic relationship , and as a twist I’ll give a little youngin in turn !    I feel like Rosered would mesh well with Lamb’s personality .   I can see their first meeting being this child just travelling around and looking for new inspiration for her art pieces and accidentally wandering into Lamb’s world like some sort of cultish edition of Alice in Wonderland .    She just sees Lamb and instantly latches on to them .   ( It’s because she probably thinks they’re incredibly fluffy and she can’t resist cute animals )  Rosered is a very docile and sweet child and she has a very in-depth and vivid way of seeing the world .   I feel like she would visit Lamb from time to time and have a peaceful conversation with them over a cup of tea , or ask about Lamb’s cult and doctrines because she’s a very curious child .   And she’ll also craft artworks and pieces for Lamb ,  one day she’ll come running and show Lamb a dope portrait of them that she painted .  Rosered in mcdonalds with Lamb “Excuse me , they asked for a lamb toy in their happy meal.” / I’M JOKING - 

( INSERT THIS A.I. thingy , Imagine a painting like this but way prettier , i’m out of Midjourney trials LMAOO ) 

#rapturam #( My apologies I gave you a novel ) #( THIS IS JUST ME WITH MY INCOHERENT BABBLING OF POTENTIAL RELATIONS & #SLIGHTLY IN-DEPTH CHARACTERIZATION ) #( ALSO AAA I HOPE YOU'RE DOING OK PRAYING FOR YOUR SPEEDY RECOVERY ) #( I HAD ANOTHER RELATIONSHIP IN MIND FOR ANOTHER JARDIN OC BUT SHE'S NOT IN THE MAIN ROSTER YET SCREAMS ) #( when i saw that they usually use asl and i stare at my church choir conductor / composer who lost her singing voice #SMASHES DESK ) #˗ˏˋ┊🍏 * ( 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐘 ━ &&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 × ) #˗ˏˋ┊🎎 * ( 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐌 ━ &&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 × ) #˗ˏˋ┊🌹 * ( 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 ━ &&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 × ) #˗ˏˋ┊💐 &&. * 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃. ( 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐋𝐘 )

[goldenshoyo]

Taste like Strawberries - DILF Daichi

Warnings: Fem!Reader, age gap (Reader is 22 and Daichi is mid to late 30s), daddy kink (obv), brat taming, finger sucking, spit kink sorta, dumbification, degradation, thigh riding, oral (m. receiving), rough sex, a little praise, alcohol consumption. (as always, let me know if you want something else tagged)

Word Count: 4.9k (honestly idk how it got so long hahaha sorry)

Author’s note: This is my contribution to @kaijime's dilf collab! Make sure you go check out the masterlist and read all the wonderful works on there as well! Also, I edited this at 2am; so sorry if it is a mess.

--

Can you pick Mei up for me? I have to work late.

You sigh looking down at the text from your sister, this is the third time in the last few weeks she’s sprung this on you. Despite knowing there’s nothing she can do about it, it’s irritating with her husband traveling and needing to work. The one good thing is the quality time you get funny spoiling your niece after school, getting her whatever junk food she wants that your sister never lets her have.

Texting her back that you will, you go back to studying. Your final year of college has been more stressful than you expected, work always piling up with your motivation lacking. No wonder so many students take an extra year. However, you were determined to finish now and not extend your torment any longer.

Glancing at your phone you see it’s nearing pick-up time at Mei’s school. You clean up the library table, shoving your laptop and notes into your bag, and leave. The drive isn’t long, her school is close to your apartment and sister’s house so you would have needed to take this route anyways. Pulling into a free spot near the school, you leave your bags in the car going out to meet her by the school’s front gate.

“Big sis!” Your niece squeals and you look up from your phone. She’s dragging another little girl behind her, pulling her your way. “This is Kaiya! She’s my best friend. She said it's okay I use her first name, so don’t scold me like momma does! I let her call me Mei too!”

You laugh listening to her babble on about her new friend. She’s coming up on her 6th birthday, and every day she is growing more and more into her own personality. “I wouldn’t scold you like your mother. You know that,” you bend at the knees, getting at their height.

“Hi Kaiya, I’m ----. It’s nice to meet you.” You shake her little hand and she smiles.

“You’re very pretty, like Mei.” She pulls her hand away and then her lip pouts. “I wish I had a big sister.”

“I can be your big sister too if you want. Mei, you don’t mind sharing me do you?”

“Only if you promise to get me ice cream.” Her eyes and nose squint and she laughs, her mischievous face has stayed the same since she was a toddler. It’s impossible to resist.

You stand up, rubbing her head and laughing. “Fine, we can stop by a shop on the way home.”

“Sorry,” a deep male voice comes from a few feet behind you. “I had a work thing... I’m sorry I’m a little late baby.”

You watch as a tall, broad man picks up Kaiya while she giggles and wraps her arms around his neck while squealing ‘daddy’. You smile politely when he looks at you. His face is handsome, features not too sharp or round; everything about it warm and inviting. He’s still dressed in his uniform, well besides the jacket. You assume he’s a part of the police force from the pants and belt he wears matched with a dark blue shirt that clings to his form.

“I hope she wasn’t bothering you,” he says while setting her down.

“Oh of course not. She was very polite and well behaved. You’ve raised a great daughter.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thank you. I’m Sawamura Daichi, and you are?” His smile is so cute, you think. It’s not forced or out of politeness, but instead genuine happiness.

“---- -----,” you tell him and shake his hand. He squeezes it once, and your stomach turns. What was that?

“Is Mei yours?” He tilts his head, eyes going between you and your niece. “I’ve never met her mother, only your husband. Kaiya talks non-stop about Mei when she’s home with me.”

“Oh, no-no. I’m her aunt. My sister works a lot, so I pick her up from time to time.” You laugh. “I go to the local college, so it’s close by. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Sawamura.” Trying to keep yourself from becoming too flustered, you look away. Watching as your niece digs through her backpack for some reason.

“Please, call me Daichi. It’s nice to-”

“Daddy, big sis is taking Mei to get ice cream!” Kaiya cuts him off. “Can we go too? Pretty please!” She kisses her father’s cheek, smiling brightly as he sets her back down. She holds tight to his hand, begging some more.

“If it’s okay with your dad, we don’t mind. Do we, Mei?”

She nods with a big smile. “Kaiya they have the BEST strawberry flavor.”

“Do you mind? I don’t want to impose on your time with Mei.” Daichi asks while still keeping an eye on the girls, who have wandered a few feet away while blabbering about ice cream flavors.

“Of course not. It’s good for young girls to spend time together.” He nods and thanks you. “There’s a spot close by. We could walk if you don’t mind.”

“Better wrangle the girls then,” he laughs, walking towards them both and getting their attention.

Taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh, you try and relax. It’s just ice cream for the girls… even if Kaiya’s hot dad is coming along. You’re sure he’s just trying to be nice and let his daughter have a nice time. However, it’s hard not to feel something when a man this hot and good with children is around.

The ice cream shop has a pretty outdoor area off the back of the shop, fenced in with a swing set and other children’s toys and playsets. No one else is visiting currently, so the girls have the playground to themselves, running around with ice cream dripping all over the ground when they forget they should be holding the cones up. Sitting quietly, spooning ice cream into your mouth, you try not to stare at Daichi too often.

“What are you studying?” He asks, breaking the silence that was threatening to become awkward.

“Oh, uh,” you swallow the cold cream. “Literature and classics.”

“Interesting. I bet you enjoy reading to your niece then,” he smiles at you before taking another spoonful of ice cream. You can’t help but watch his tongue dart around the spoon.

“Yeah.” You say quickly looking away. “Mei enjoys it, well, when she pays attention. Does Kaiya like stories?”

“Her mother says she always listens to her when she reads, but for me, it’s hard enough to get her to go to bed. I don’t think she’d ever stay still to let me read her a book.” He continues to talk about the weekends he gets with her, and you listen closely.

It’s stupid, you think. You shouldn’t feel this excited that he’s either divorced or at least no longer together with Kaiya’s mom. It’s selfish, but lucky in some ways. You don’t have to worry about a jealous wife coming after you because her husband paid for your ice cream.

“I’m not around for bedtime, so I can’t really relate.” You say softly and stick your tongue out lick the spoon clean. Stopping yourself from licking the ice cream off, deciding to explain more, “Mei never really stays the night anyway. She gets too worked up without her-”

The spoon is plucked from your hands and you frown looking at Daichi, who has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “What do you like to do at bedtime?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you stutter out something incoherent. Daichi’s tongue swipes up your spoon, and you watch carefully, longing to be that spoon as his tongue drags across it.

“Well?” He continues, then hands you back the spoon.

“I, uh, I don’t know.” You manage to stutter some words, even if it's not a real answer. “I uh-”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t need to answer now. Let me see your phone,” he asks holding out his hand and you hurry to hand it to him. He puts in his number then hands it back to you. “I’m not free on weekends unless I get a sitter. But, I’ll see you around.”

You sit, stunned by how quickly that turned from a polite playdate for your niece to potentially a playdate with Daichi. You bring your hands to your face, trying to compose yourself before waving at both Daichi and Kaiya as they leave.

“Big sis,” your niece wines. “Wanna go home.” She pulls you from the park bench and through the shop while you continue trying to collect your thoughts.

Did you really just pull a dad? There’s no way he was serious, right?

--

You texted him the night after you got ice cream, but he hadn’t responded. It wasn’t until late Sunday evening he sent back a short ‘you’re welcome’ after you thanked him for the ice cream. Your face burned and your stomach twisted with every flashback to watching his tongue slide across your spoon.

It was so unnecessary.

It was so hot.

Gathering up the courage to ask when you could see him again took another day and liquid encouragement. Maybe texting him while you were drunk wasn’t the best idea, but it did make sending him photos of yourself a lot easier. The ones you got in return nearly made you drool. Joining the police force ensured he never lost his perfect physique. Every inch of him looked like it had been handcrafted by the gods themself.

Slipping your fingers into your panties and toying with your desperate clit was all too fun when he called you late that night, not caring about his early morning shift or the classes you may have. His voice breathy and deep, yours whiny and high pitched when you came around your fingers begging him to come over and fuck you.

He only laughed, telling you to wait until he had a day off.

--

Sitting across from him at dinner should be fun. He keeps the conversation going and you always paid attention and politely answered. However, it becomes increasingly obvious that the burning between your thighs is becoming unbearable.

“Check please,” he tells the waiter, and you nearly squeal with excitement.

“Mind if I go get some fresh air while you settle the bill?” You ask, placing your hand over his; thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He smiles at you and you walk out of the door, ignoring the way his eyes make you feel as you walk out the door.

Cool evening air hits you hard. Letting out another sigh, you laugh at yourself for acting this desperate in public. He must know. It’s not like you’ve been good at hiding it. You’re worse than a cat in heat, mewling for attention and a quick fix.

“Ready?” His voice startles you and you turn to face him. You nod and he extends his hand out for you. The walk to his car is short, and you’re grateful for the dim lighting in the parking garage once you slide into the passenger seat.

Unable to can’t wait any longer, you straddle his lap in his seat and he tilts his head, looking up at you in amusement. Kissing his neck, you run your hands down his chest and slowly grind against him. His firm hands hold your hips and you whimper, trying to convince him to give your body more attention.

“Daichi,” you whine against his neck. “Please, I need-”

You’re stopped as his hand takes control of your jaw, cheeks squished in his hand while he admires you above him. His gaze is intense, not a hint of a smile or enjoyment on his face, but the bulge in his pants hints otherwise. You frown looking down on him, irritated this is the most he’s touched you all night.

“I don’t like brats.” He says simply. “Impatient ones are even more annoying. Tell me, are you going to be an annoying brat?”

You try and shake your head no, barely getting it to move from side to side in his grip.

“Good,” he releases your face and you sigh. Rubbing your cheeks with your fingers you relent from trying the aggressive approach with him; seeing now he’s much less patient than you had expected. “Now can you wait until Daddy takes you home?”

You nod, a smile brimming on your lips while your stomach turns.

“I want to hear you say it.” His eyes somehow focus on you more, making your stomach twist once more.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.”

The rest of the drive is silent, his hand resting on your exposed thigh a little too close to the hem for comfort. It keeps your mind buzzing, every nerve lit aflame at the slightest bump in the road or motion of his fingers. His thumb occasionally draws circles on your sensitive skin, and the whimper that always leaves your lips feels embarrassing.

Are you really a whimpering mess already?

Everything about being with Daichi made you feel more intense like your body knew just how to react to everything he does and says. Was it the age difference and excitement? Or was it simply because he knew how to touch and speak to you?

“Sweetheart?” Daichi’s voice draws your attention and you look over to him. “We’re home now. Be a good girl for me, and go unlock the door.” He dangles the keys in front of you and you take them nodding.

“Yes sir,” you slip out of the car. Did you call him sir? At the moment it felt right, but now with your face burning and palms sweating you wonder if he thinks it’s ridiculous.

You unlock the door, pushing it open and standing awkwardly waiting for him to walk up the stairs to the front door. Why is he prolonging this? There was no reason for him to stay behind. Turning your head to look where he parked the car, you see he’s talking to a neighbor, laughing, and paying you no mind.

What’s his game here?

You huff, frustrated, and embarrassed with how desperate you’ve been acting and he seems to not have a care in the world. Stepping inside, you close the door and take your shoes off. He doesn’t mind you having access to his house with you unsupervised. After all, he did give you the keys to unlock the door.

His home looks comfortable and lived in, not overly clean but not messy per se. You sit on the couch, crossing your legs and laying your head back. While you know it’s rude to begin feeling this irritated, if something didn’t happen soon you were going to have to call for a ride and get home to a toy or even indulge in one of the sleazy dating apps you’re all too familiar with.

Pulling out your phone, you respond to a few notifications you garnered over dinner, nothing of real substance, but better than sitting in silence. A few friends have invited you to a bar not too far from your location, and you consider it, but the front door opening grabs your attention.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart.” He smiles at you and you lay your phone down on the cushion beside you, feeling like you’ve been caught texting in class. “I see you made yourself at home.”

“Oh, I-” you stand up, even more embarrassed.

Does he take pleasure in making you uncomfortable or are you just too on edge?

“Sit back down,” he laughs walking into the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

“No thank you,” you answer quickly, sitting back down and laying your hands in your lap to fiddle with your fingers.

He comes back into the living room with his shirt unbuttoned a few, his chest peeking out, and a beer in his left hand. Sitting on the recliner adjacent to the couch, he motions for you with his pointer finger then pats his lap. Your body moves without thinking, straddling him with your knees sinking into the soft cushion of the recliner on either side of his hips. He grins watching your dress ride up your thighs before he takes a drink from his beer.

“Why are you acting so shy now? What happened to that confident little attitude?” He sets the beer down on the table between the couch and chair.

“Why are you toying with me?” You ask, furrowing your brow and tilting your head. “Just fuck me already.”

“There it is,” he chuckles. “You’re not as good of a girl as you think. You’re nothing more than a spoiled brat who needs put in her place. Lucky for you, I know just how to handle bratty girls like you.”

His thumb pulls on your bottom lip and you part them, letting his middle and index finger slip in and press against your tongue. You moan at first, grinding your cunt against his thigh before his fingers slip further in and make you gag. Closing your eyes you grind on him harder, the gagging only intensifying and your body lighting on fire.

“Pathetic,” he laughs while resting his cheek against his hand. Opening your eyes more you see he looks unamused, even as he shoves his fingers down your throat more. “Moaning like this over what? I’m barely touching you.”

You moan again, pressing your core harder on his thigh and whining. Your fingers dig into the arm of the recliner, steadying yourself while you ride his thigh. It feels too good to stop, the minute amount of pleasure intensified by Daichi’s fingers in your mouth.

“Maybe I was wrong,” his voice making you whine again. “Maybe you’re not a brat, just a dumb little slut desperate to cum.” Removing his fingers from your mouth, you take deep breaths, coughing and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“P-please,” you beg. “Please fuck me, daddy. Wanna feel you in me. I’ll be good, I swear.” You sound desperate, you know it and so does he.

“Do you think you deserve it?” He rubs the spit from his fingers onto your cheek while holding your jaw. He shakes your head back and forth slowly as a no for you. “That’s right. You don’t deserve daddy’s cock.”

“B-but-” you whine and grind against him. “Please!”

“Hmm,” he hums, releasing your jaw and licking his fingers clean before taking another sip from his beer. “Maybe if you earn it. I’m not in the mood to fuck an ungrateful whore.”

“Anything!” You nearly shout, eager to please him.

How you’re feeling is different than usual, the need to do whatever Daichi wants completely takes over your own desires. While the feeling is new, it’s something you want to continue to chase. Your head feeling lighter and body burning is all too good to give up now.

“Do I need to tell you what to do?” You nod. “Of course,” he chuckles, “silly of me to forget you’re nothing but a dumb brat. Get on your knees in front of me. Put that mouth to good use for once, won’t ya?”

“Yes daddy,” you say quietly, sliding onto the floor and tugging at his pants.

His belt is a struggle, and he makes no attempt to help you until you’re sliding his pants and boxers off and he lifts his body up just enough to get them down his thighs. Gripping his cock, your mind races wondering if you’ll even be able to fit his girth in your mouth as your fingers barely manage to wrap around him.

“If I finish this beer before you make me cum, I might not fuck you at all.” He says tapping your forehead with the cold glass bottle. “Do you understand?”

You nod again and he leans back into the recliner. Precum leaks from the tip and you wipe it up with your tongue, enjoying the taste as it floods your senses. As your tongue swirls around the head and your warm mouth takes him in, he moans.

It’s quiet and short-lived, but enough to encourage you to take more of him. He fills your mouth so quickly, but you’re determined to make him cum; unsure if it's because you’re desperate to be fucked or if you just really want to please him. Either way, you’re going to have him cumming in your mouth in minutes, you know you can.

You gag loudly when you force him into your throat, nearly taking him to the hilt. This time his moan is louder and longer, making you buzz with pride. Managing to keep him deep in your mouth you rub his balls with your shaky fingers while setting a steady pace bobbing your head up and down.

“Fuck,” he groans. “I guess that mouth is useful for something…” another moan breaks his last word but you don’t care.

The condescending praise just enough to make you hum against him with glee. He bucks his hips when you do, his fingers tangling in your hair and forcing you to choke on him again. You claw at his thighs, desperate to come up for air while you fight against him. He releases the tight hold and you take him out coughing as you stroke him with your hand.

You watch with a frown while he drinks on his beer again, watching carefully as the faint line of liquid lowers nearing the bottom of the bottle. You can do this, you tell yourself before taking a deep breath and taking him back in your mouth. Humming against him lightly while massaging his balls in your palm earns the same reaction, except you’re better at keeping a steady pace now.

“Shit,” he groans.

His cock twitches against your tongue and warm spurts of cum coat your mouth before you can swallow fast enough. He pulls you off his cock by your hair.

“Tongue,” he says and you stick it out timidly.

He spits on your tongue before pulling you to his face and kissing you, his tongue invading your mouth and making you gag at the taste of his beer. His kiss takes your breath away, literally struggling for air as he continues. You’re coughing and pulling away from him while a mix of spit and cum runs down your chin.

“I didn’t think you could do it,” he admits. “I’m surprised someone as desperate and stupid as you could make me cum that fast. I suppose I should reward you then, hmm?”

“Please daddy, please,” you beg. “Want your cock in me so bad.”

His hand slips under your dress and rubs against your soaking panties. “You really do want me, don't you baby?”

You nod.

His free hand gropes your breast, pinching your nipple through the thin material of your dress. You close your eyes biting your lip as you enjoy the not so soft touches he gives you. You moan when his fingers slip into your panties, sliding against your puffy clit.

“Daddy!” You squeal when his middle finger slides inside of you and curls. “Fuck, more please.”

He laughs, pulling his finger out and standing up. He sheds his clothes while you remain on your knees in front of him. You can’t help but admire how good he looks above you like this. Honestly, you think you’d do anything to remain in this moment even if the anticipation of him splitting you open is forcing you to clench around nothing.

Daichi offers you his hand and he assists you in standing to your feet, but it doesn’t last long. He bends you over the arm of his recliner in seconds, pulling your dress down and allowing your bare breasts to fall from it.

“Tell daddy what you want,” he teases while rubbing his cock between your folds.

“Want your cock!” You turn your head back to look at him. “Please, I need it.”

“Good fucking girl,” he groans while sliding inside of you.

Even with your intense arousal and the spit on his cock, it stings. Your body goes limp against the arm of the recliner as you try and relax your body to let him in. Crying into the cushion, you try to not be too loud while getting used to his size.

“If I’d known you’d be this tight, I would have fucked you sooner,” he says after fully sheathing himself inside of you.

He isn’t nice enough to give you more time, too overwhelmed with the way you squeeze him so nicely to not start thrusting immediately. You cry out when his cockhead hits deep inside of you, pulling against your walls as he pulls back out only to do it all over again.

It hurts. It feels ethereal.

“Daddy!” You whine as his fingers twirl your nipple between them and he holds you back against him while relentlessly pounding into you. “Too much!”

“Be a good girl,” he hisses. “I know you can take it.”

You whimper in response, his thrusts forcing your breasts into his hands while he continues to assault them. Your thighs begin to shake and your core feels like it’s a tightwire about to break.

“Wanna cum!” You tell him, some part of you knows it's better to warn him or ask instead of letting yourself go. “Please, daddy! Let me cum.”

“Aw, my little slut is learning,” he chuckles, thrusting deep into you and letting you fall back onto the recliner. “Go ahead, cum for daddy. Cream all over my cock sweetheart.”

He hits the sweet spot inside of you once more and you come undone, cumming around his cock and crying out a mixture of daddy and curses. He grunts as you clench around him, body pliable for him to hold you closer while rapidly fucking you.

He cums, and you feel it drip out of you around his cock before you comprehend what’s happened. You’re too fucked out to even care if you’re honest. He pulls your panties back to the side as he pulls out of you.

“You’re going to keep it all in, aren’t you?” He pulls his pants back on, leaving his shirt on the floor and sitting on the couch.

You nod, pulling your dress back over your breasts and adjusting the thin straps back to a comfortable position on your shoulders. He pats his lap again, and you sit across him, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your cheek against his shoulder.

A knock at the door startles you and you look at Daichi with a concerned face.

“Oh,” he laughs. “I lost track of time. Can you get that?”

You sheepishly nod. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I need to go grab something from my room. I’m sure you can handle it.” He disappears down the hall.

Running your hands through your hair to make sure you don’t look crazy, you open the door.

“Oh,” a sharp tone greets you.

“Big sis!!” Kaiya screams, jumping up and down and running inside.

Shit.

“Uh,” who you assume to be her mother says shaking her head. “Is Daichi here?” She’s irritated, and reasonably so. “I need to speak with him immediately.”

“Yeah, he’s right-”

“What do you want?” He appears back into the living room, pulling a loose shirt over his head as he comes in.

He easily could have done that before. Is he doing this on purpose?

Oh god, he is.

You look quickly between the two of them as he steps in the doorway with you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“I think we need to speak in private.” His ex tells him, eyeing you up and down.

“Sweetheart, do you care to take Kaiya to her room to play for a few minutes?” He kisses your forehead and you look away from the intense glare you receive from Kaiya’s mother.

“Daichi! Why are you-”

“Stop,” he says loudly. “---- can watch her for a moment.” He lets go of you.

“Can you show me your room Kaiya?” You ask sweetly and she takes your hand and guides you down the hall.

You’re not sure if you’re grateful Daichi got you away from his ex or if you’re happy Kaiya won’t have to see her parents bicker. Either way, it’s a win for you. Your heart is beating against your chest, making you nauseous. There’s no way he just forgot he was getting his daughter tonight.

You’re flattered that he used you to make her angry, but the more spiteful part of you wishes he had let you in on it a little more. Having you answer the door was good, but you could have left your hair a mess or something more…

“Big sis, why are you here? Did you and daddy have a playdate?” She asks, handing you a stuffed rabbit while you sit on the floor of her room with her.

“Uh,” you giggle. “Yeah, we had a playdate.”

#dilf collab!! #daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi x reader #sawamura daichi smut #daichi smut #dilf daichi #daddy daichi #hq smut #haikyu smut #haikyuu smut

[aussiebee]

The Next Step

This is a continuation of Derek Hale: Baby Whisperer on AO3 :)

Derek let himself into the Stilinski house and set the baby bag and his keys on the kitchen table. “John?”

“Out the back, Son,” John called, and Derek shifted Leo on his hip a little and took Genevieve’s hand to go out the back door and find John in the backyard. “Hi, kids,” the sheriff said, his entire face lighting up when he caught sight of Gen and Leo, the former of whom tore her hand from Derek’s and bolted down the back steps to allow John to pick her up and spin her in a wide circle, and the latter who began squealing happily.

Derek waited for John to set Genevieve back on her feet before handing Leo over for a cuddle, the baby lighting up the same way he did whenever Stiles walked through the door. “Need some help?”

John shook his head. “No, just cleaning out the shed. Let me get this packed away so the kids can play,” he said, and began collecting all the bits and pieces he’d pulled out of the shed to put into the trash. “Why don’t you go and grab us a drink from inside, and grab the blanket from in the hall closet for Leo while you’re there.”

Derek did as instructed, leaving Gen to pepper John with a million questions as he took Leo back and fetched the things from inside. He was twitchy with nerves, but Leo’s babbling helped him focus a little and he smiled as chubby hands patted clumsily at his beard.

“You need to tell Pop that this is good idea, okay?” Leo grinned widely, four perfect white teeth on display, and Derek smiled back. “Or just keep doing that,” he agreed. “That’ll win him over for sure.”

Once he had everything he needed wrapped up in the blanket, he returned to the backyard and John, passing Leo over once more so he could set up the blanket. Gen was exploring the back yard, prowling through the flowers along the back fence, and once John set Leo down he was happy to sit on the blanket and babble about the grass and leaves he could reach.

Stretching his legs out and leaning back on one hand, Derek sighed contentedly as John groaned and sat across from him, opening both bottles of beer and passing one across.

“How’s Gen doing with Lydia being away?” John asked.

“Better than I’d expected, to be honest,” Derek told him. “I think the fact that her routine already involves us has made it a lot easier.”

“You want to leave her here for the afternoon?”

Derek shook his head. “No, I actually came because I wanted to ask your advice about something before Stiles got home.”

John raised his eyebrows and settled in more comfortably, setting his drink down and away from Leo’s grasp. “Ask away.”

Drawing in a deep breath, Derek nodded once and focussed on carefully coaxing a small twig out of Leo’s mouth. “Alright. Well, you know that Stiles has been working on setting up the ‘supernatural adoption service’,” he began, smirking at John’s eyeroll. “Yeah, I know, it’s a ridiculous name.”

“He’s gotten it up and running so quickly, though,” John said proudly.

And he had. Stiles had used his contacts- incredibly many and varied- all over the country to work within the law enforcement purview to begin creating a kind of phone tree of supernaturals and people in the know who were willing to take in any orphaned or abandoned supernatural kids who were left without families or pack in the event of a tragedy or hunter-related intervention. As far as Derek knew it was the first time something of the sort had been attempted, and not only had he gotten it up and running, it was working. Just last week Stiles had placed an abandoned half-were with a pack in Texas, and by all accounts the fostering was going well.

Derek had never been so proud of Stiles, either as a deputy or as his partner, and his heart ached when he remembered the way Stiles had tugged him into a close embrace and waltzed him around the house after he’d gotten the phone call, his delighted laughter filling their home.

“He’s amazing,” Derek agreed with a fond smile. “Um, but I was thinking, because of what Stiles is doing and where we are, you know, life-wise and financially and whatever, and I guess we’ve kind of spoken about it, in a general kind of way, so I don’t know if Stiles would even really be ready right now-”

Derek managed to stop himself from rambling and was about to try again when he caught sight of the slow, happy smile creeping across John’s face. “What?”

“Derek, is this your roundabout way of asking me whether or not you think I think you should ask Stiles to adopt a child?”

He felt a flush crawl up his throat and he cleared it once, picking a long blade of grass and swiping it down Leo’s nose, chuckling when the baby went cross-eyed and tried to grab it. “I-- yes. I guess it is.”

John reached over and gripped the top of Derek’s shoulder. “I think that’s a great idea, Son. To be honest, I’ve been waiting for you guys to announce something like this for a while.”

“You have?” Derek asked, surprised.

“My son loves you more deeply than I have ever seen anyone love before,” John replied matter-of-factly. “There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you, to make you happy. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was his motivation for doing this whole thing.”

The thought hadn’t even occurred to Derek, but he heard the truth of the words. “So... so you think he’d consider it?”

“I think he’d do it tomorrow if you wanted it.”

“I want him to want it too, though,” Derek said, finally voicing his deepest fear. “I don’t want him to do this just because he knows I want it. That’s not fair, and long-term it won’t work.”

“Give him a little more credit,” John said gently. “When have you - or I, or anyone - ever been able to make Stiles do anything he didn’t want to do?”

Derek laughed shakily and shifted his leg so Leo could try and crawl around him. “So. You ready to be a Pop for real?”

John smiled again. “You’d better believe it.”

Gen returned to pass John a scraggly bouquet of bluebells and daisies, idly scenting him with a hand across the shoulders as she went back to exploring. John kept a hold of the flowers like they were precious, and Derek felt a flood of affection for the man.

“What if I’m bad at it?” he said suddenly. “I mean, I know Stiles will be incredible, he’s got you as a role model and he’s such a good person inherently. But what if-”

“Aaand I’m gonna stop you right there,” John said with finality. “The fact that you even care enough to worry so much is proof that you’ll be a great father. You’re a good man, Derek; a great man. You just need to have more faith, in Stiles and in yourself.”

Derek knew what his face must look like, knew that he couldn’t hide anything from this man or his son, but he believed John when he said he believed in Derek, and for now, that would be enough.

*

“Hey, Darth Daddy-O,” Stiles greeted John later that afternoon as he came around the side of the house after work. “Love of my life,” he added, dropping down to a boneless sprawl beside Derek and curling a hand behind his neck to pull him in for a deep kiss.

“And hello to you, wannabe human,” Stiles laughed, pulling away as Leo dragged himself over to him, clutching at his chest and babbling incoherently. “Oh, I missed you, baby.”

The desire in Derek’s chest softened at the same time as it intensified, and as John got to his feet to answer the phone in the kitchen Derek gathered Stiles and Leo both up against his chest and snuggled them thoroughly, scenting Stiles as he did so, pleased when his scent shifted from happy and pleased to interested and aroused.

“Hi,” Stiles murmured, eyes alight as he reached up with one hand to run his thumb over Derek’s lower lip.

“Hey there.”

“You’re looking extra gorgeous today.”

“You only want me for the babies,” Derek smiled.

“Trust me,” Stiles said, his heartbeat steady, “that’s just a bonus.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m really in it for your fine, wolfy ass.” He yelped a laugh as Derek shoved him to the grass and kissed him breathless, Gen running over to investigate and wrestle with them as Leo laughed and clapped his hands where he was sitting on Stiles’ belly. “I like this playful side of you,” Stiles told him sweetly.

“I want to adopt,” Derek said suddenly, then reared back in shock at his own words.

“I know, honey,” Stiles told him, head tilted back as he tried to avoid the wet, open-mouthed kisses Leo was favouring him with.

“Now,” Derek ground out. “I want to adopt a baby now.”

Stiles froze, his beautiful bourbon eyes intent on Derek’s. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

There was an intensity to the question that Derek couldn’t help but respond to, shuffling closer as Stiles cradled Leo against himself and shoved himself up to sitting. “I’m sure.”

“Because I got a call today from my person in DCSS in San Diego- he’s got a little boy there who was found at a fire station under the Safe Haven Law. It’s sudden, and there’s a pack in San Diego who could potentially take him, but-”

“No,” Derek said suddenly, surety so deep in his bones that he could feel it. “If you want this too, if you think this is the right time for us, I want to take him.”

Stiles carefully sat Leo down on the blanket and took Derek’s face in both of his hands. “I think it’s the perfect time,” Stiles told him, a little breathless.

John returned to the backyard as Derek leaned in to kiss Stiles again. “Hey Dad?”

“Yeah, Kiddo?”

“We’re gonna have a baby.” Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck and stared into his face. “Holy shit, Derek- you’re gonna be a daddy!”

John’s laugh was fond, and he smiled as he watched his kids celebrate on his back lawn.

#derek hale: baby whisperer #becca writes #ao3 #sterek #derek/stiles #fluff #sap #adoption

[doriscahill]

Abuse  Tiring: Acceptance  exhausting: Fight Back Risky.

This story is a true story however, fictionalized in regards to time and place. Its meant to speak out to a new generation of women in business and how my fight to stand strong never easy, often at the request to never tell and forget. 

Its a day like any other day,  training and site visits, but wonderfully  warm. It was fall.  We arranged a national expert to visit; education for regional businesses, a “how” to class. Our facilities would supply the room, conference table and seating;  in turn they offer training.   

Shortly before class we became aware our expert had not brought a projector.  We were more than happy to provide one and have done so for others needing equipment to present; not uncommon.

The expert  was  recommended by our affiliate office as a content expert who contracts with other firms like ours; a rich history of talent. We are excited.  He arrives. He is stout, full white beard, pale, face worn, glasses and quick gate. I greeted him and brought him to the conference room with his moderator; a young woman, brown hair pinned up, notably quiet. The attendees trickled in, we all shook hands; polite greetings.

It was not his first visit to our City so we chatted and tried to find common interests. I share my love of his topic, but he seems preoccupied; discussing his long flight and late evening.  Turning to the matter at hand, I quickly plug his laptop into the needed outlets and configure the projector for the presentation.

It sounds simple to plug in a projector, but, in fact, takes a bit of experience; plugs vary, graphic resolution can be dated, tweaking focus involves 3 dimensional tweaking and dual imaging.  These modifications require experience.  In making the adjustments for visibility on the projector, we both could see his power-point image on our wall.  The image was  blinded by the sun from the adjacent windows. It was mid morning and glorious rays blared through modest window blinds.  

The room quiets.  Thinking, possibly seconds, that seemed like  minutes,  “Hmm”, how best to adjust for this glare. I’m Startled. He immediately became verbally abusive about our lack of readiness to receive him, repeating himself in an extremely abusive and loud tone, with threats he would report to the world and all the powers regarding the office ineptness!   His voice raises, then blaring “How ill prepared our facility!, touting, “we had to correct all this!, if we think he is to return again”. Its not just his words, its the tone of madness.  I walked away, because it frightened me and others; mostly men were present. I sought out my female supervisor for assistance.

In tandem with my search,  the speaker raced to locate her first and continues the rant: directly his face to hers he gasps as he  yells. She looks like child frozen in fear. Unbelievable. Saddened I watch. 

Other  office colleagues see the situation and quietly  began to solve this very simple issue.   They gather supplies, signal me and we first  move the blinds to each side. Then, gather flip chart paper.   In an effort to control the situation and dodge his screams,  she joins us, shimmies up on the windows ledge in tall heels.  The plan: cover the windows with flip chart paper. I held the flip paper upright, other tore the masking tape in short lengths.   She stretched to  set it in place and tape. Others continue to  fetch and carry supplies to/from the windows until complete. All takes place in less than 10 minutes. 

The morning session commences, uneventful. At lunch the  expert apologizes to myself and female counterpart; however his  words intermingled   with stern discipline and a demand for changes. Resilient he wraps up his apology with a threat regarding a formal report that will be read by “all”. We nod in humble acceptance.  

We return to the conference room post lunch, I apologized to the moderator our silent witness. I felt responsible for somehow triggering this  behavior and most attendees saw/heard this.The session continued uneventful, I had returned to my desk to work. 

Afterwards we visited clients in field, my role was to gather data for the days event. Visiting client sites is really fulfilling for me. Its important to reach out to  at their businesses, it makes lessons taught more relatable.   Active participation forms better connections in your brain.  Myself, a male colleague and driver, and the expert are in one car. The driver and expert in the front; me an my colleague in the back. I am the only female. 

After the second field visit, driving to the third field visit, suddenly, our trainer/expert began verbally abusing me again. I thought I was making friendly chat and contributing to an interesting discussion. 

Vehement dislike of my chatter. He became loud, vulgar, ranting and repeat degradation. My background, my position, my affiliated organization and all its colleagues, our failure as an office, not taking clients seriously, my attitude, my topic interest, loser attendees lacking entrepreneurial spirit. Disparaging that attendees were of great disrespect; not agreeing with him nor his opinion. 

Cornered and no in the car is speaking up. He slams the dash board repeatedly with his fist. Slamming, screaming expletives directed at me. I was closed in a car with what I would define as an unstable crazy man. The car was in motion, the roads unfamiliar.  Babbling so many incoherent phrases;  a page could  fill with random cuss words. 

Did you ever feel that moment when you can not take it any more? That minute you had a chance to say something and let it slip by. 

Others quiet, I anted up the nerve and I told him he is yelling, this is not how we speak to each other and  he needs to stop. I repeated myself.  He would not and continued screaming for me to shut up. I raised my voice again and again. I dropped the F bomb a few times in desperation, he quieted. I found myself defending myself, my character and how their are many who really love me and my skills. Satisfied but lowered to yelling. 

Finally, my colleague sitting inches away whispered; acknowledging  he's crazy and I did nothing wrong. 

Normally, I would sit quiet when a  business man felt it best to scream and yell at a woman. That day and days in my past there were ample men in the office to yell at too, but women the yelling target.  In my youth, this unacceptable today was normal. If one complained about a male superior verbally abuse you, you were likely complaining to an unsympathetic ear; possibly male.  Complaining  meant loosing your job. If you  had a family and financial responsibilities, speaking up  considered very high risk endeavor. Worse: complainers may not receive promotions or potential for raises.

I believe this expert is an abuser and that is who he is a person. He chooses to conduct himself in this manner and may have encountered other women like me in the past, as he had a lot of unkind things to say about “the others” he had met in his career.  He could have an untreated condition sickness, but I am saying its not the first instance.  I report his behavior to the referring affiliate. And waited.

I hear directly from our affiliate. The expert/abuser keeps his job. On agreement should to return to the office at some point; I would not  work near him again. We only agree  he is unstable and unsafe to my well being. No attention was given  to other woman he would encounter.

Damn. 

Epilogue: Although the content expert;  was remanded and given verbal discipline and with a promise to correct his behavior, admitting to medical issues and his word this was the only time ever he acted in this manner.

Less than a year later; of no surprise, he retired. Apparently there was another incident, heard through the grapevine. 

Post Script: The content expert got his own projector. I got in the car because my generational mindset accepts abuse. I was right, but sad to think others were abused. 

I am a  real person to be loved and respected. A woman who struggles to combat verbal abuse. 

#empowerment #workplace abuse #verbally abusive #verbalabuse #verbabuse #metoo

[behardonyourself]

I F*cking Quit...

I fucking quit…

I’ve quit feeling like shit. 

I’ve quit wasting copious amounts of time and money on happy hour.  

I’ve quit decimating my body with poison. 

I’ve quit allowing my kids and wife to see me in anything but in control. I’ve quit dreading early mornings. 

 I’ve quit needing to sleep as late as possible just to function.  

I’ve quit pouring in absolute garbage calories that have a catastrophic effect on my waistline, cardiovascular system, liver, kidney, and overall health.

I’ve been a fairly constant drinker for my entire adult life.  And man, I can fucking put it away.  

I probably could make an attempt to justify it because I have typically lived a crazy fucking life running around the world in the military, finding some of the greatest parties the world has ever seen, and still being able to wake up in the morning, knock a workout down, and still kick ass at my job.

Or spending over 18 months in Iraq.  I mean, I fucking deserved it, right?

Hey, I’ve been a small business owner for a great portion of my post-military life.  Gotta network, yeah?

Or of course, “work hard, play hard.”  

Genetics.  There are some legendary drinkers in my family. Motherfuckers that pulled Johnny Cash style shit.

But the truth of the matter is I’ve fucking quit justifying it as well.  Justifying it and defending it is pussy shit.  

You know what?  I am an alcoholic.  I can fucking face that.

But I’m 101 days without as much as a sniff of alcohol.

This isn’t preaching. If you are battling demons, my thoughts are with you.  If you know someone that you want to stop or at least reduce their alcohol consumption? Prayers.  Because if they aren’t willing to change it or stop, it ain’t fucking happening, no matter how much you plead.

Funny thing is that I had none of that.  I’m sure I’ve driven my wife out of her fucking mind with my occasional incoherent babbling.  Staggering in all hours of the night when she had to be up realllllly fucking early to deal with gaggle of 6 year olds.  She has always been my guardian angel and at least tolerated me.  She knows me – and she knew that I am the guy that is going to do what the fuck he is going to do.  Never had a DUI.  Thankfully never fucked anyone else up behind the wheel.

Work?  I’m certain it affected me.  But I’m one of the best to do what I do professionally.  While I feel that I have a small level of pure talent, I’m always looking to improve and become better.  I am relentless at personal improvement and I will outwork anyone. That recipe there has carried me to unbelievable heights.  Hung over or not.

Yeah, it absolutely contributed to me becoming a fat ass, fucking my insides up, giving me a heart attack scare, and keeping me in a state of fatigue that made working out the furthest thing from my mind.

But I wonder:  How fucking great can I be?  Not just at work – as a father.  As a husband. As a professional.  As an athlete…

Here’s the truth:  No matter what you’ve convinced yourself, there isn’t a fucking thing worth doing that you can do better drunk or hung over than you can do sober.  

I have no idea what the 12 steps are.  I have no idea if there are 12 steps or 11 or 14.  

What’d I do?  First, I made a decision.  Yeah, I had made the decision that a lot of drunks make often – I need to stop drinking, I’m never going to drink again, etc.  Why has it stuck 101 days now?

I look at it as a one day at a time ordeal.  I don’t think about it as “My race is 6 months away and that’ll be 9 months of no alcohol”.  I just look at it as “Today is May 6, 2019, and I don’t think I’m going to drink today.”

What do I do?  I take a daily inventory:  My wife, my daughter, my son, our future, my job, my health, my family, all that I have left undone, my potential influence, Ironman, etc.  I have a lot to live for.  I have a lot to be sober for.

I don’t have a WHY.  I have WHYS.

Right now, I train upwards of 20 hours per week.  My job occupies 60+.  I sleep 50+ per week.  I give my family QUALITY time.  We aren’t mindlessly watching bullshit TV.  We are laughing, talking, playing with Ava, yelling at Peyton (joking, kinda – he’s 14).  

What don’t I do?  I don’t do shit that I associate with drinking.  I don’t put myself in situations where I have had drinks in the past. I don’t meet friends at happy hours just to hang out.  I don’t go to the casino.  I don’t mindlessly lay around and watch sports.  I don’t go to the casino.  

That is all shit that I’ve been known to throw a few vodkas back while partaking.  So it’s better that I just cut that shit out.  I don’t have time.  Could I do it and not drink?  Maybe.  Probably. But why risk it?  I don’t care to even put myself in that situation.

In my opinion, I don’t view anything in my life as restricting.  Eating plant based has made me feel amazing (funny thing is that more people message me negative shit over that than anything else).  I recover like never before, sleep like a baby, and have energy that I never thought possible.  I don’t miss things because I “have to workout”.  I fucking GET to workout.  I get to run for miles, swim, bike across the county.  It’s fucking amazing.  Far better than a stinking ass bar or sitting around listening to people bitch about their situations.  I don’t have time for bad shit going in - food, energy, or whining.

As related to this post? I haven’t “given up drinking” – after 43 years on this earth, I finally realize that there’s so much more to enjoy when you’re lucent, focused, and always energetic.

So there you go.  I sat down between a ride and a run and just wrote this down and posted it.  Hell, I haven’t even proofread it (I may or may not do that later).  May not make sense to most of you.  Someone might appreciate it, may get inspired by it, or just think “Damn brother I’ve been there with ________.”  Isn’t always booze or a substance.  

I’m not arguing that you can do a lot of the things that I’ve traditionally done drinking not drinking. Of course you can.  Just thought I’d share my mindset and where I’m coming from.  Hell, some of you may not like me sober.  That’s fine too.  Best of wishes to you.

 Peace.  I gotta get the fuck after it now!

#alcohol #ironman #plantpowered #plantbased #training #nutrition #health #fitness #motivation #xl #mybattles

[montmartre-parapluie]

5 Things Meme

Well, I got tagged in this delightful meme by the ever-wonderful @calamity-bean! Tagging the last 5 people in my activity: @raniajames, @vivereperamore, @slutty-but-sleepy, @sansakarstark, and @jamienorrington

Five things you’ll find in my bag:

Loose change. All the useless copper loose change a girl could possibly need if she were going diving with nothing but her handbag as a weight to get her to the bottom...

Old sweet wrappers. Occasionally with a squished/fluffy sweet stuck to it.

the “Lanyard of Doom,” with all my keys attached. Feels about the same weight as a Lord Mayor’s chain of office.

Depending on whether it’s a re-enacting week or not, there may well be a wooden needle-case and a thimble rattling around in there at any given time

A brown watercolour pencil.

Five things in my bedroom:

My sewing machine.

Newt Scamander (no, seriously! Granted, he’s a Funko Pop, but at this point I will take what I can get)

The Fabric Stash. A leaning tower of impulse-bought regret and untapped potential that lurks in my wardrobe.

A half-eaten packet of pistachio and almond cookies. (Yes, I am a slob. I embrace Slob Life)

 The moodboard wall. All the pictures I actually like once I’ve finished drawing them go up on here.

Five things I’ve always wanted to do in life:

Go to Paris. Just for a weekend, or even for a day - I just need to do Notre Dame de Paris and the Palais Garnier to get a few old fandoms out of my system. Oh, and the Louvre. And Versailles. And anywhere even remotely featured in Alexandre Dumas. And....*incoherent babbling*

Be able to waltz.

Visit Colonial Williamsburg (okay, so this is a recent “things I’ve always wanted to do”, but damn it, this one’s a keeper!)

Falling in love would be nice at some point, but no biggie

Learn how to knit.

Five things that make me happy:

Pretty fabric

Awesome friends, both near and far

Listening to music on a long journey. There’s a tranquility in the movement and the music that really puts me in a contented mood.

That bubbly feeling (you know the one) when you get a review notification over on AO3.

When a project comes together really well and you know you’ve done the best you possibly could for it

Five things people may not know about me:

I’m left-handed, and thus will forever have ink smudged over my knuckles from writing. It always looks as though I’ve been punching an inkwell.

When I have a cold, I get a man-cold. I morph into a sluggish whiney thing who wants to live in blankets forever. Stoic, I am really, really not.

I was once bitten by my 2 year old little sister in a case of teddy-bear related theft.

I am a confirmed stationary addict. Especially when it comes to nice sketchbooks.

I keep anxiously wondering whether to get Twitter or not, so I can better follow the Turn cast  Erm... I mean, keep informed of current events! Politics. Yeah... *sideeye*

#five things meme #@calamity-bean #tagged

[opalmothnightingale]

Love Still, Even Though & Anyway I Do, & Can’t Not Love You

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I love you still.  I love you even.  Even though I love you like that...  Even though my love is still and even,...  Level and flat, I love you anyway...  Anyway you are, anyway I am, I love you anyway life goes and anything that happens...  Love you even though you did all that...  Even though I’m like this, even though I’m still, still as a rock and hard and cold, flat, expressionless, lazy and tired...  Even though I’m a nerd, so tedious, so boring, unbearably dry, inscrutably complex, incoherent and vague, babbling, even so I love you...  And I am filled with bizarreness and even so I love you...  And I can’t not love you and no matter what is happening I love you.  And my love is under the pull of the moon’s gravity...  Fluctuating, going into hibernation, receding far from the shore of your existence, leaving you there, bare and alone...  What can I say?  Even out at sea I love you.  I know your virtues, your passions, your values and wisdom, your art and creativity, the things you do that make me laugh, the things that make me feel like a human, not just alone in my own weirdness,...  Things that show me you also don’t care about false ideas of what is intelligent, normal, worthwhile, charming or annoying, moral or not...  That you also have e a compass that shows you a whole nother angle on those topics... That you are also able to understand my own unique compass and that we are able to relate when no one else sees us...  That your heart and mind and creative impulses are pure and strong like a child, even if your child also goes into hibernation, hides and feels dissociated, scared, confused, ill, traumatized, for much of the time... We can heal our children, our inner children...  We both see and value our inner children enough to really do that, to the full expression of joy and potential, beauty and artistic truth, however naive and simple but creative and original, as children are in their undistorted basis...  We will find it again.  I know that you are so weird, so nerdy, but I see so much I love in you and so I will bring you flowers and books and poems and art, and jokes and whatever I can find, when I can bring myself to emerge from my mire and when you are also not in your own mire...  too preoccupied to notice me..  But even so, during the times apart I will love you.  There is nothing but love.  

Magnificently bizarre and atrociously boring and amazingly good and wise, you are all these and for all these reason I love you because it makes you so that you are beautiful, good and smart...  a rare combination, as I read in some quote by Fitzgerald.  Yet somehow you’re all that and still, humble, between the lines, the paradox, the transcendence, spiritual channeled being,...  Child essence being.  Nature immersed being,...  In touch with animal human nature, in your own unique expression of it...  And so you’re also humble, and mysterious and spiritual...  Passed over, not seen by the masses of society who aren’t ready for you and your ideas and values you represent...  So you're kept safe from them by you own weirdness, boring nature, and weakness...  And for these reasons I love you.  Your very weaknesses make you so lovable even when I’m dry, distant, still, tranquil as a stone like meditating Buddha...   We love each other in our stillness and give each other space.  We are space, even when we are also love and matter...  We are spirit and we are material and we are the spheres of manifestation...  Where spirit can manifest in matter...  

I am in love with you...  

And who are you...  but me,...  Me, of course....  And who could love you but me, me, maybe?  It might be that anybody else would use, abandon, manipulate, try to control, demand things, misunderstand, mistreat, or fail to treasure you enough...  as you are worth... You will never succumb to them again, because you have my still, even love instead...  My cool, calm happiness that can feel like sadness, presence that can feel like absence.  Answers that can feel like silence,...  Adoration that rains down only too rarely.  Admiration and praise you wish would be more bounteous.  Gifts and spark and life and fire that you wish for more often.  But you have faith that it is enough.  You wait my storms and self-abnegation and self-flagellation and still are there for me, knowing I only mean to cherish and to develop your goodness, reading my mind as I do so.  Even if I make mistakes, you share my same identical delusions and spirit will guide us in our wandering in the wilderness calm, dry, still love as it is... 

I could hope for someone else to love me like you do, or even better...  To love you and bring different riches to the table, to balance me, someone who doesn’t have the exact some problems and gifts and illnesses as me...  

Who is able to see my goodness and give it the love and respect and adoration I do actually deserve...  

But,...  

Well, even If it will only ever be you and me,... 

Yes, I am fine with that!  

I am honored by that.  Grateful I have the chance to love you so...  To give you gifts and attention, nurturing and care...  Revolving my life around your care since no one else wants the kind of care that I want to give and have to share. 

Much, much happier than most people would make me...  You treat me so much better than most would,...  

And if our love feels heavy, dragging and tired, maybe one day it will heal to b more lively...  But even if not, it’s fine... 

And so even then we are enough together... 

[retracingpoliphilo]

Pilgrims

Love, I have been hesitant to share this - for the expansive open multi-personed love i reference, and fear of your reaction to it and its implications. Silly scared. Love is.  This is my most cohered and articulated of my vision, and the run through the trees at the end is the core of the vision I have referred to wanting to share but been unable to find written, was sure I had written as part of this draft. There is more to it, but as I attempted to put words to in just now, it slowed and stalled in interpretation. This was drafted September 3, 2013. -----

Una inhaled deeply as the lander's hatch opened. The air of her birthworld was a scent unmatchable in its ability to put her at ease and restore her balance. But, for the first time, it carried with it also a hint of bitterness. This was her last obligatory yearly pilgrimage. Once she completed her apogica the rites of the pilgrimage would still be open to her, welcoming and indeed - hopeful to have her. But, she would no longer be required to take part but every 10 years. Well, so long as she succeeded in her apogica. The yearly pilgrimage was not a thing all, or even most, people ever passed beyond. It came as a reality as one advanced towards the core and heavier transaction costs in their value added commerce. To travel inter-system, or even communicate interplanet, levied a heavy fee. Releasing those who pursued …   

Una arrives to ancestral home, greets family. Sits down to work on her (culmination), is approached by a younger sibling or niece/nephew/etc, asked about what she is doing.   

(Explains:) I am composing a biography, in fact, of the great biographer. What have you learned about her?   

(Child recites the basic backstory, replete with worshipful overtones). (Una responds:) Ah, yes. Thats very good, you're more intellectually advanced than most of your milieu (10 year generational cohort), yes? (Or have they accelerated the curriculum recently, she asked herself. There are the signs of it, in his tendency to worshipfulness in his recounting.) 

And how about biography? What have you learned about the core of our culture? (again, the child responds with a childs version of the accord - that journalism is a public service of maintaining a transparent view and awareness of reality for the general populace and that biography is the paired calling - helping people to not only step outside of their own shaping experiences and opinions but also to step into those of another, thus truly gaining understanding and insight into the broader reality that surrounds us, not winding ourselves into dark, blind, dead end alleys with no means of escape and a couple of big guys with heavy sticks. Yeah, sure, side passages could open up before the guys with sticks, or they could not. And, if they did, they could lead to escape, or they could unleash a totally unexpected danger on us. Perspective is gained by reaching a vantage point. A vantage point is composed of multiple views and is not only achieved, but as we live in a fluid reality, something that must be maintained and grown and evolved alongside that which it observes. 

The childs response was somewhat rote, but for such a complex concept, that was to be expected at this age, no matter their precociousness.   

And how about the (profession encompassing both trades)'s principles? Do you know those yet?   

And the child responds that they don't remember them all, but there is one, his favorite - because of the reality analysis exercises they do to teach it. It goes: Compassion is the core of culture and civilization, and is achieved through careful analysis and experience of reality. Accept and portray only reality, do not embellish it, do not apply insight or avenues to an experience that is beyond the years or experience of the subject being portrayed. This leads to false worship, unfair judgement, disconnection with reality and has the potential to stagnate a people, destroy a culture and decimate an ecology. In order to portray reality, one must have compassion, which is achieved only through continual work and engagement with the metier of one's subject matter. The ability to put oneself squarely in the mindset and context of another - to the extent of completely removing your own mindset and context but retaining your intellect and judgement in full operating order is hard fought, imprecise, and even harder maintained. It requires both a strong sense of self and an ability to be completely effacing as necessary, without distress, unbiased resentment or impossible expectations.   

The child looked puzzled, and asked, "But, if adherence to reality is such an important thing, why is the great biographer also called the creator of culture? Culture is created by those living it.   

Ahh, yes. and this was the tricky bit. Reality isn't simple, and there isn't just one - there are as many as there are sentiences in the infinite universe, which is to say infinity squared. This was one Una was currently banging her head up against in what appeared to be a somewhat altogether new way within her course of study. Of course, others had thoughts these thoughts before, and delved deeper into them, but more in the harder sciences, or the spiritual. Even the philosophical. 

Anyhow, it was time for her to head to her first husbands home and help prepare the pilgrimage supplies and equipment. Her first son and daughter were probably there already, preparing their year-name wear.   

As she opened the door her progeny both jumped her, reminding her of excited puppies. They both babbled incoherently at her in their excitement until all three split into grins and laughed. One last clasp and they released her. Aria automatically drifting towards the kitchen to bring refreshment, and Aidan settling back into his chair and picking up a book, Thoughtfully leaving space for mother and daughter to reconnect first, after the long months apart. Aidan had followed her into the inner systems for his trinary education - pursuing journeyman experience as a deepspace constructor and gaining access to the more esoteric materials and tools that could only exist in stable quantities away from the distortion of a planetary mass.

Aria had remained on the home world of her parents, pursuing a dizzyingly deep and broad wisdom of its ecology, and plying a myriad of artistic and creative trades through the seasons and her ranging studies. She sat down at the table next to her mother, depositing a tray of fresh and preserved snacks alongside two steaming mugs of spiced apple cider.   

How is your (culmination) doing? she asked. Una loved her daughters simple undemanding straightforwardness. She had the makings of a planetary leader, the way she was able to cut through any amount of noise and go directly to the heart of something without ruffling even one feather in passing.

All in all, really well, Una responded. I tracked down a neglected set of journals and work from Eva's late twenties and am elevating a number of seemingly odd notes to a fairly startling place, that is requiring me to delve into a surprising number of hard sciences and philosophies. That is all taking really fantastic shape, but I'm struggling to capture her mind in all of this. There is very little record of her activities during this time period, or, really, from that time period in general. …. Knox arrived, and embraced her in a way that was both as familiar as if he'd just kissed her goodbye this morning instead of nearly a year ago, while also conveying every ounce of missing each other that had passed and every iota of excitement, pleasure and anticipation at seeing each other again. And then, at the light undemanding touch on her hip, Una turned and similarly embraced her husband's home-wife and ruffled the hair on the heads of their two young children, as they scampered by underfoot after one of the cats.   

As she always did, she envied them good-naturedly their life, and appreciated her ability to be a part of it. Not all of those who moved beyond the orbits of their first marriages enjoyed such healthy relationships. 

She said a solemn hello with Miriam's older son Devereaux, while exchanging a secret wink with his mother. Devereaux had, at 12, declared his intentions to become a monk, not surprising for one who had lost half of his family at the age of 7. Miriam's first husband and daughter had perished in a freak space travel incident, and too much time had passed before their retrieval. Their last recorded consciousnesses had been forwarded in the chain, but energy and matter being what they were, the outcomes were always unpredictable. … I've had a link about Ica, Miriam told her later, over their traditional wives meal, sampling the best new eatery in the small town Knox and Miriam called home side Una's last visit. Her eyes shone with joy as well as the barely repressed dampness of imminent tears.   

My daughter has begun to re-emerge among a proto-herd of ilaxu and her parents have connected enough dots to realize what she was, thought it's not yet part of their repertoire, being a relatively new life form to (the cycle - give it a better name, mythologically related). As with all first children of first marriages, Ica was a new consciousness, and had only been forming itself for a scant 5 years when she perished with her father on a pilgrimage trip to his home world for her first formal rite of passage. Luckily it had been a long enough ship-board time voyage to require stasis, and the girls consciousness had been archived and copied through the parallels of (data backup term) for the first time since her birth.   

Recording a consciousness is not a pleasant experience, and was not done without dire need before a child's fifth year, and preferably not until after their tenth. 

Are you going to go visit? Una asked?   

I'd like to, and the her parents seem not only willing, but as if they would be happy for it. I gather she is somewhat of a struggle, unsurprisingly. But, the ilaxu homeworld is not close, and the cost necessitates a longer visit than I can reasonably accommodate for.   

Una clasped Miriam's hand, sharing her strength with the woman who not only shared her husbands heart, but also had a hold on her own. "Mir, don't even think about it. Plan the trip for after my (culmination). Take as along as you need, I will come home and step into your shoes. I'll be at loose ends anyways, and needing to take the time for reflection on my next move that this will allow me." 

At that, Miriam's control over her budding tears was lost, and she lowered her head and allowed herself a few deep shudders and re-emerged with glints of refracted light off of the tears rolling down her cheeks. The words "Oh, I had so hoped you would," poured from her mouth as she fully relaxed and ordered another round of raki. Her grip on Una's hand eased into gentle sensuality. … "Tyler and her family will be joining us," Una announced the next morning as she, Miri and Knox chopped, cooked and bound the meals for the pilgrimage. "Oh?" He asked, minimal with worlds as ever. 

"Yes, she's gravid with her first child." Una replied with some heaviness. Tyler was her mentor, the woman who had fostered Una's unusual talent and moved with her into the inner systems over the course of her education until Una entered her journeymanship. Tyler was an end cycle consciousness, completing her 23rd (number of chromosomes) form. She had begun her life in the central systems, and out migrated slowly over the years until she found a place to raise her final family on Earth, a backwater of the (culture) for sure, but also the home of its birth. She had been preparing for her second to last pregnancy when she encountered Una and took a detour to  foster her spark. Now, She had embarked upon her final forming, nearly 5000 years after her first awakening to consciousness.   

"Does she know where she is headed yet?" Knox asked? "No, she's hoping her path will be illuminated by this final forming. Which would be grand, but not expectable." 

"Well, I'm glad she will be joining us for pilgrimage and birth. That is an auspicious conjunction, almost as if she'd planned it …" He trailed off. Tyler had a known penchant for structuring her world along major lines of larger meaning. Not just a 10 decade (yearly pilgrimage), also a centennial pilgrimage and won't that line up her final pregnancy to fall into the millennial pilgrimage? He shook his head in amusement. Tyler and he and an affectionate if occasionally strained relationship. Among other things, She had taken his first wife from him, if one chose to view it that way. Which he didn't, but also which he couldn't entirely avoid. … Una pulled her bowstring back and nocked an arrow, tracking the buck down the ravine. They had just made the third deposit of pilgrimage goods at their ancestral long home village and were now continuing their journey into the woods, subsiding on what they could forage in the autumn wilderness. She wanted to bring a deer heart back to camp for Tyler. Her patron was entering her final days of gravidity and the heart would prepare her and her child for the imminent birth.   

Loosing the arrow as the deer lowered its head to nibble a blade of grass poking through the mat of leaves, her shaft hit home, stopping the deers heart even as it entered the left ventricle. The creature dropped as it's consciousness left it, and Una walked slowly towards it, reciting the benediction of the slain, thanking it for its bounty and wishing it well as it traveled towards its new embodiment.   

As she worked her knife deftly through the process of field dressing, she allowed her memories to wander to her first experiences with the gentle creatures. Two years old, she played in the mud at the edge of the stream while her mother washed their linens in its cold water, a fmaly of deer had approached her, the fawn clumsily nudging against her looking for a treat or caress.   

As she maneuvered the bulk of the buck onto her shoulders and stood she heard a rustling in the brush, and before she had even turned around and begun to walk towards this evenings camp the scavengers had begun to pick at the entrails she had left for them. Tonight she would be scraping deer hide.   

As she made her way through the trees she fell into reverie, her feet moving nimbly along the ground, in flow with the world. She was running, pure joy expressed in motion. She saw a flash through the distant trees of another figure on a parallel path. Dark, unable to be made out. For miles they ran alongside, trees flashing between them, each intensely aware of the other, yet never taking their sight from the glory of the living woods and skies. Then the air dampened and the ground took on a throbbing and they came to rest simultaneously at a cliffs edge, overlooking a cascading thundering fall of water, shaking the earth. Una now raised her eyes to the dark stranger and was struck with recognition, memories of childhood runs of the same nature through the same trees flooding back into her awareness.   

"You” she managed to get past her paralyzed lips. Suddenly overwhelmingly shy, she dropped to her knees and lowered the deer to the damp moss, taking breath gulpingly into her lungs, attempting to tether herself against the sudden and entirely unexpected flood of feeling.