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velvetures · 3 months

Note

Helluuuu!! I saw your post about sending requests and mine is actually a really simple one cause I don't have a creative but I just though about a ghost hurt/comfort story

Little Secrets

A/N: So this is very self-indulgent... I hope you don't mind. I think there are quite a few people who struggle with taking meds for depression/anxiety or feel guilty for it. Me included. Hopefully, this helps everyone feel valid, seen, and supported. Summary: Task Force 141 is where you belong. But it doesn't make the work easy by any means. You finally get the help you need and try hiding it. Ghost notices and is the one who sets you straight. T/W: depression/anxiety themes, medication, guilt, insecurity of reader, fem reader, and I'm sure I've missed something, so let me know.

photo by: pedropcl

You couldn't keep fighting it for any longer.

Staring down at the two orange bottles of pills in your hands and the directions packets in the other, you felt like you'd failed despite the psychiatrist you'd spoken to reassure you that this was certainly not a failure. Your brain kept refuting that this was a step in the right direction. Working as a professional and legal murderer should've meant you had no feelings. No failures of regulating your emotions or having such miserable trouble falling asleep at night. That nice woman who'd put the prescription in for you said it would take two to three weeks to see a difference. It felt like no time, yet an eternity all at once. Relief felt so far away, but insignificant compared to other people you often compared your personal struggles with.

You weren't homeless, you could eat without worrying, you had clothes and shoes all of the time, and never needed to wonder if you would have enough money to take care of your responsibilities. Education hadn't been a problem, you were well-respected despite being a woman in such a male-dominated field and kept up with your work extremely well. At least, when your brain decided to deny that you had the ability to do anything. Or... repeatedly try to convince you that nothing you did was worth a damn or actually made you useful. Vicious cycles of fighting with your own brain, knowing that you shouldn't feel or think this way but have no strength or way of stopping. None of the "hacks," meditations, or affirmation bullshit touched that panicky feeling you had mere minutes after laying down at night.

The pills shaking around in your hands were your last resort. And they made you feel so fucking embarrassed as you tucked them in your pockets before entering back into HQ. Praying to god that none of the 141 would see you with them or hear that slight sound of them rattling in their bottles. By grace or luck, you were able to avoid all of them and got back to your quarters to stash them under your bed in a small ammo box repurposed for some personal belongings. The directions you'd thrown away on your drive back, just taking a picture of them for reference and ditching the paper copies so you wouldn't have to keep track of those.

"This better fucking help," You breathe out heavily to yourself.

Staring up at the ceiling and almost dreading having to take one tonight before bed and the other when you wake up the next morning. Daily reminders of how you couldn't be hard and cold like the others. Cool and collected like Gaz, confident like Soap, unaffected like Ghost, or just so very reliable like Price. It made you feel like the weak link needing support. You'd never needed it before, and within two years you'd suddenly realized that your own mind was winning in a fight you'd never even been aware of fighting in the first place.

Keeping all of them in the dark about this would be safest. If they didn't need to question your stability, then it wouldn't feel like such pressure to perform. And hopefully, after a few weeks, things might start to shift a little. Maybe enough to where you could begin sorting out the other problems without the image of a cluttered attic representing the state of your head. Taking care to not raise the alert of the 141 wouldn't be easy. Always noticing everything out of sheer training and sharpened instincts. Having no other good ideas... You just settled on doing everything you could to keep your little secrets under wraps.

In the following couple of days, you’d become adjusted to the routine of taking your medications on the surface level. While the one tasked with easing you anxiety and depression wasn’t going to take effect for quite a while longer the other -a sleeping aid- was definitely making a significant impact. You were able to actually fall asleep and stay that way, problem was, with a couple missions impending in the near future, you were getting concerned that if you took them when you were supposed to -on a schedule- that staying awake would be next to impossible. And if you didn’t take them at all… you didn’t want to deal with the consequences of breaking a much more healthy habit.

And the reason you were so worried about the missions was because of a reoccurring problem that the 141 began finding you falling victim to. Thankfully you were all on leave, making it a lot more acceptable, but they still began walking into different rooms around HQ to see you sleeping soundly. No matter the noise level, temperature in the room, or the space you’d fit yourself into. And no one was quite as intrigued with your sudden change in behavior was the Lieutenant.

Ghost liked things to have order, and often used regiment or habit as a very small form of comfort when he felt that his physical situation was one that could be trusted. And while the others just thought you’d found a new safety in HQ and enjoyed sleeping somewhere safe, Ghost could see that something much different was happening. Your sleeping wasn’t a new habit.

It appeared far too quickly, and you oftentimes didn’t look like you had much control over it. There had already been three times where he’d watched you fall asleep on one of the guys late in the evening without as much as a single attempt to fight the drowsiness. While Ghost didn’t like to think that he cared that much about you, he found himself paying even closer attention to you than he had before.

“There she goes…” Soap chuckled quietly, pointing to you on the couch; head laying in Captain Price’s lap, eyes closed and sleeping deeply with your arms tucked against your chest and lying on your side.

Price had a loving hand on your head, and had been idly petting your hair much like a father would despite being hardly of age to act it. Yet, Ghost felt that Price’s warmth towards you wasn’t the entire reason you had yet again fallen asleep before 11 o’clock. Purposefully he’d been keeping count, and this was the fifth time in a week. More than enough to raise alarm with the others… but he was still waiting silently for someone else to bring it up.

Price chuckled, glancing down at you. “I carried her to bed last time,” His pointed look at each of them was more than enough to guess what he was about to say. “Someone else needs to, otherwise you’ll be voluntold.”

Ghost internally groaned. Not only was that kind of behavior what made people soft, but it also made seeing through the mask of affection far more difficult. But before Soap or Gaz took initiative, the Lieutenant was up on his feet and approaching Price with every intention of being the one to take you back to your quarters. Looks got thrown around the room, and Ghost wasn’t stupid enough to not notice. It was the first time he’d gotten this involved, and there was certainly a spectacle of him picking you up carefully enough to not wake you.

Even though he was quite certain it would take a lot more to get you up than that.

Your door opened up into warm, glowing light from a little lamp you’d left switched on. He catches sight of your quilt on the bed and the little rug that made the polished concrete floors look so much less like the jail cell his own quarters resembled. The whole room smelled like you too. Sweet, and a lot like cinnamon rolls. Probably some type of candle or other smelly thing that you had thought was worth spending money on. Plenty more reasons added to the list of what separates the two of you. Debating your differences or the reason you preferred your quarters smelling like a bakery wasn’t his purpose for bringing you back to your room.

But even with laying you down on your bed and pulling the sheet and blankets over you, Ghost wasn’t seeing any of the possible signs that could lead him to better understand what was going on with you. Nothing is out of place though. Your room is pretty much spotless save for a sleep outfit you’d laid out for tonight, but wouldn’t have the chance to get changed into. And right about the time Ghost decided he’d been looking into your business too much, he bumped into your nightstand.

It knocked something off into the floor, bouncing under the bed and clattering a bit.

Ghost sighed, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling and having quite the frustrating experience of dealing with the sudden responsibility of making sure you were cared for. And that meant picking up whatever shit he’d been too busy watching you, to not knock somewhere under the bed he’d have to fish around and find. So he knelt down and pulled his phone from his pocket and used the flash to spot a tube of chapstick near the bed frame foot.

That, and an ammo box with your initials spray-painted onto the side of it.

Compared to everything else, it didn’t look like it fit amongst the rest of your things. And damn if Ghost didn’t have a sudden gut feeling that it was the reason you’d been sleeping so much. Why you’d been so out of character; Setting his teeth on edge. Reaching out… Ghost grabbed the lip balm and got back to his feet and sit it down on the nightstand where it couldn’t be as easily disturbed again.

“G’night kid.” His whispers fell on your unconscious ears as your Lieutenant dismissed himself from your room and back down to his own space.

***

You woke up in your bed after falling asleep somewhere unintentionally, for the who-knows-which time. Just like before, left in whatever clothes you’d been wearing and all of your blankets tucked up tightly around you. It left a lingering sense of disappointment in yourself. A little pinch of sadness rested like a rock in your stomach. You couldn’t really remember falling asleep to begin with. If you ended up keeping this little habit going, there’d be no doubt you would risk everyone on a mission falling asleep at the drop of a hat.

All because of this damn medicine.

One that you needed to grab from under your bed, and sneak into the kitchen so that you could have some water and food. You'd seen one of the tens of sites -during your research of your pills- that it would help digest it better... whether it actually worked or not wasn't something you could tell. But either way, a doctor had said it, and plenty of people taking it agreed. So you grabbed the pill, shoved it in your pocket, and went out into the kitchen to find a glass.

The floors felt cold even with socks on. And while a steady rain poured from the sky, you were more heated with concern that someone would notice you. Notice your sleeping issues, the way you crawled around in the morning for the first couple hours before the pills began working, or the shady way you hid your face in the refrigerator while swallowing down your medication. Surely the stuff had to be working since you'd not been struggling to get your work done throughout the day. But maybe that was the hard part. Taking pills to fix your head, but needing your brain to recognize whether or not you felt better.

"Oh god help me..." You mutter quietly, searching past Soap's energy drinks and Gaz's revolting jug of green juice to find something you could make for breakfast.

A cabinet door shutting behind you nearly stopped your heart. Seeing Ghost's dark eyes evaluating your reaction didn't make your heart rate drop back to normal either. In his typical day-off wear, a pair of well-worn jeans hung low on his hips and an old SAS t-shirt you'd seen him wear countless times stretched tightly over his chest and shoulders. No doubt he'd been up since four. Quite certain he never actually slept, you wondered momentarily if he could benefit from the sleeping tabs you took. But quickly that got covered in anxiety when his eyebrows furrowed at your expression.

"Nothin' to eat?" He asked with a smooth voice, nodding to the refrigerator door you still held open dumbly.

"N-no... just a bunch of shit drinks." You reply, letting the door shut and noticing that he's got a brown bag with grease spots at the bottom corners. He just nods, looking off into the empty common room. Like he's trying to think of the right way to talk shit about both Gaz and Soap's bad choices in hydration.

"Sit. I've got enough to share." He jerks his head to the other side of the counter, turning that wide back to face you, leaving no room for argument.

You're swallowing down a thick bite of a bagel with god-knows-what in British style as Ghost brews tea. Silently making you a cup as well and standing stiffly with both milk and sugar on the table with the expectancy that you tell him how you like it. Not really unusual behavior from him... typically you get along just fine. But it's the fact that he watches so heavily.

"Just sugar, please." You say through a mouthful, covering your mouth with your hand.

He nods, but then starts putting the sugar in, mentioning something about fucking Americans before sliding the mug closer to you with a couple of fingers. Those damned eyes are just as observant as ever when you crumple up the finished sandwich before he even steeps his own drink. It made you nervous. Wondering if those pills were helping with your appetite too. The psychiatrist said it could; Something about feeling less stressed can give your body more opportunities to worry about being hungry. It was one of those facts on the medication packet you'd taken pictures of.

"Plans for today, L.t.?" You ask, sipping the tea, eyes grazing over the cup rim as you stare at the back of his head.

Mask rucked up high enough to eat and drink freely he nods his head. Leaning his lower back against the edge of the kitchen counter

and resting one hand back.

“Yeah, you?”

You shake your head uselessly, “No. Maybe some laundry, but I’m not really even due. Wouldn’t be worth the water in the machine.”

He hums lowly, taking a drink of his tea. You can hear his swallow and a steady exhale of air that follows. Whether it’s him cooling off the steaming cup or just breathing, you cant tell. But it’s so steady that you actually mimic the tempo of it. Feeling the way it expands and contracts your lungs smoothly. Almost settling. Much like L.t. himself in that way. Terrifying until you see just how easily you can be around him. He’s always quiet and composed, even when there’s plenty of reasons not to be. You wished it was something you could do too. Maybe it would help the task force if you didn’t have to spend your energy keeping yourself at an unnoticeable level of consistent panic.

“Know anythin’ about cars?”

“No,” You’re quick to add on. “But I can learn fast.”

You watch the way the back of his mask slides down further and how his head tilts from side to side to settle it comfortably. Seeing the rest of the tea get dumped into the sink and his own sandwich bag get crumpled up. He’s silent as he washes the cups used and methodically cleans up after the pair of you. Even reaching across the counter to swipe a couple of crumbs off your t-shirt with a subtle nod to his own satisfaction.

“I like to hear it,” His hand palmed at the back of your neck. Gently tugging you off the barstool, and grabbing your jacket to toss it to you. “You’re comin’ with me then.”

Learning about cars actually became quite easy… when Ghost was teaching.

He explained the parts clearly, what his goal was, and didn’t get pissed when you handed him the wrong size socket wrench on the first try. On the other end, you’d only been working next to him -well, sitting on the wheel well- for a couple of hours when you started getting tired again. Almost helpless to your own frustration, you yawned. Fighting the sleepy feeling valiantly, and taking as detailed of mental notes as possible while watching Ghost’s greased knuckles tighten a bracket holding his master cylinder in place. Surely it was a cosmic joke. L.t. was fixing his brakes, and it felt like someone had stomped on yours.

“Hand me that,” He muttered, head stuck down in a gap between his engine block and alternator, still effortlessly pointing at a pair of channellocks. “And get in for me.”

You did as he asked, yawning one more time. Trying to blame your sudden exhaustion on the rain pelting the metal roof above you. Sliding into the back of the car and kicking off your boots to let them rest on the concrete floor outside of it. Attempting to be polite by not getting any dirty spots on the mats of the -very original- DB4 GT Aston he’d given you trust to even sit in. The leather seats help you glide into the driver’s seat, giving you a very slim look at Ghost through the gap in the hood.

“What exactly am I doing in here?” You ask, loud enough so that he can hear you.

It prompts his head to pop up from inside the engine bay, giving you those same, observant eyes from earlier. He looks back down, reaches in and taps on something harshly, then looks back to you.

“Roll it over.”

The car starts effortlessly. Practically purring under you, and echoing in the metal hangar making it sound all the more ruggedly beautiful. The whole car hums, and as you watch Ghost go back to focusing on something in front of him, you feel the heat come through the dash. It’s a perfect storm that lulls you even closer to sleep. A dangerous thing, considering the one man who could figure out what was wrong with you was the only one close enough to see. Hell, you weren’t even sure he didn’t already have it figured out, and wasn’t planning some way to tell Price about it and have you removed from the task force.

Unfit for duty.

You could just picture it now. Red pen in Price’s handwriting detailing your medications and how it was grounds from honorable discharge. Perfectly common in the military, but it felt like death in your hazy mind.

Not that you could fight it for much longer.

Because by the time the Lieutenant had finished his little bit of work, he came into sight of you, slumped over in his driver’s seat with you lips parted and your arms wrapped around yourself. Nothing short of a pretty sight for sore eyes. His car had damn near rocked you sleep, and for once, Ghost felt his heart couldn’t take the feeling of waking you up. He’d watched you all morning. Gauging your reactions, your lack of conversation, and the way you tried to keep from showing him any sign of being tired. Initially he wanted to be angry. Mad that you were hiding something from the team… from him. But seeing you sleeping there, he knew there was a fight in your head. A fight he knew well. So he left you there to sleep.

Turning off the engine to keep from filling the garage with exhaust, but pulling up one of the small space heaters close to the open door to keep you from getting cold while he worked. Making small adjustments, looking over future jobs, and even entertaining the thought of adjusting you over in the seat a little bit so that he could drive-test his handiwork. But that didn’t come, because Soap arrived with a grin on his face and no idea that you were sleeping.

Until Ghost told him to lower his goddamn voice.

“Sleepin’ again bonnie?” Soap chuckled to himself, looking at you before back to Ghost. “How long’s she been out?”

Ghost shrugged, “Few hours.” Really he hadn’t been watching the clock; far too comfortable to concern himself with it.

“I know you’ve been tryin’ to figure it out,” He started back, resting his hands on the hood. “Why she’s doin’ this so much. Have ya’?”

Ghost shook his head. “No. Not yet, but I’m not concerned.”

Johnny laughed softly, slapping Ghost on the back and beginning to walk away. “I never took you for the type to be worried, L.t.. But since you’re so reassurin’ I’ll take it t’heart.”

Any way Ghost came at that statement, he felt himself on the end of a losing battle. Maddening. Losing a fight wasn’t in his nature. Even if that meant he had to take some of the most fucked up torture to reach it. But what bothered him more than Soap knowing he was concerned about you was the knowing you weren’t okay.

Days out in the field were bad enough. But when they got worse, you were always there. And maybe you didn’t feel much better than he did, yet you always held softness. For everyone. For him. A kind of understanding and acceptance that wasn’t required, or exactly approved of in this line of work. You could keep a secret better than anyone he knew, and while he didn’t burden you with a single one of his, there was always the foreign comfort in being able to come with them if he wanted to. Hiding your own feelings wasn’t right though.

Selfish maybe. Thinking it was okay to linger in his own issues and still demand you give him yours.

But hiding behind his rank and position over you meant he could make that kind of decision without any questioning. A type of don’t fucking ask why that saved him face when carrying you from his car back to your room after you still hadn’t woken up nearly seven hours after passing out in his car. Shouldering open the door just like the night before, he expected to see nothing out of place. The same lip balm on the side table, the same rug, and maybe a different night shirt since you’d mentioned doing laundry. But there was something out of place. And damn if it didn’t make his gut twist up in a ugly kind of feeling. One he’d not felt in years, but certainly recognized as soon as he spotted the orange pill bottle sitting on your bed.

It made sense.

The sleeping. The different behavior. The reason you’d practically swallowed a whole fucking sandwich for breakfast when a cup of tea would typically be all you stomached until afternoon. And thank god… you were finally starting to look a bit fuller. Getting prettier every day, and he finally had something to place the blame on. All hesitations about you being able to handle the upcoming missions faded once he got a good look at the bottle. A medication, funnily enough, that Ghost was well-acquainted with. It wasn’t part of his own personal line-up in his medicine cabinet, but it was one he’d taken for a while.

You’d been in need of some help, and luckily for you, it hadn’t been nearly as hard for you to get help as it had been for him. Actually asking for what you needed -and while frustrating- decided to try and manage it without anyone else’s knowledge. Ghost couldn’t think of a better scenario. Realizing that the only thing he needed to know about was your side effects, and how to best manage them alongside you. Thank fuck you weren’t sick… well… sick in a way that someone couldn’t help you with. A way that he couldn’t help.

So, he sit down in on the floor in your room and waited.

Your wake-up call came in the form of sleepy eyes opening to see the massive silhouette of Ghost sitting in your floor. Dark eyes much softer than you’d expected, and a much more concerning sight of your pill bottle resting in his massive hand. A sight that sat you up ramrod straight in your bed, gasping softly and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t tell Price.” You sputter, rushing to get the words out of your mouth. Terrified that he’s going to get up and run out the door. Just sitting long enough to let you get a good look at his plan before exposing you to the Captain as some sick kind of satisfaction.

His eyes narrow a little, “Don’t tell Price?” His voice sounds hoarse. “Don’t tell Price?”

It sounds that much more broken and gritty when he repeats it. Standing up to meet you a bit more level, fisting the pills in his hand, and lightly making them shake. He can’t understand your fear. Completely blind to the fact that -much like him- you’re fearful of being shamed. Misunderstood for it. Or worse. Ghost can’t recognize why you’re looking at him as if he’s going to be the reason your life ends. When in all reality, you don’t see how he’s trying to figure out why you didn’t feel safe coming to him.

“You’ve been takin’ these… fallin’ asleep on everyone, and-and struggling for who knows how the fuck long…” It’s hard for Ghost to keep his tone even, thinking about it. “Why didn’t you tell me. you should’ve told me. Said something. Anything.”

Caving in on itself, your chest burns. Eyes locked on his and scanning every confusing moment of emotion and each shift as it comes and goes.

“You wouldn’t…”

Ghost takes a fast step closer, “I wouldn’t what?” His hand drops the pills on the bed and quickly grabs your face, soft fingers pressing into your jaw. “I wouldn’t get it? I wouldn’t do what you needed me to? Wouldn’t let you sleep on me?”

Your lips open in surprise at the softness in him. All of him. The gentleness of his fingers, how his eyes lay silkily on you. Even his voice, falling so softly despite it’s rough tone and deep sound, feels like he’s terrified of you being scared away from him. Like that gentle hold on your face is all he can manage, and he’d rather do anything other than let you pull away from it.

“You have to know…” he starts weakly. “You have to know that - that I would do… anything you needed me to. Anything to make this easier for you. Even somethin’ small, I’d do it for you, honey.”

reblogs & comments are appreciated 🤎

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures #anon <3 #velvetures answers #anon answered #anon ask

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animehideout · 5 months

Text

A Deal ( Ryomen Sukuna x F.Reader) Part 2.

Read Part 1 here.

part 3

Manga spoiler⚠️

WARNINGS: Sensitive, smut content. Minors and those who don't like this kind of stuff please DO NOT INTERACT 🔞🔞

🔗🔗🔗🔗🔗🔗🔗🔗🔗🔗🔗🔗🔗🔗🔗🔗

6:12 PM

You laid on the soft silky bed. Sukuna departed early in the morning, having taken all he could from you, leaving you completely drained. You were aware of the cost when you got yourself into this for your loved ones; the cost... was you.

Despite the comfort in the room, it couldn't soothe you enough. All you wished for was to be in Satoru's embrace. You understood it might not happen, but at least he was alive now – Sukuna did keep his promise in the end.

You thought about surrendering, running away, abandoning everything even if it led to your death.

"No, I can't abandon Megumi" you whispered to yourself, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Leaving is impossible as long as Sukuna controls Megumi's body.

Yet,perhaps ....perhaps when Sukuna regains his own body, you can leave, when you make sure everyone's safe.

Surely, this deal has got an end.

......

"I see you're still awake," Sukuna remarked, pulling you from your trance. You chose to ignore him; the last thing you desired was to see his face or engage in conversation with him.

"Come now, puppet, don't ignore me," he sighed while settling on the bed's edge.

His hand began to wander across your form, starting from your shoulder, waist, hips, down to your exposed legs. His sharp nails grazed your soft skin, sending shivers down your spine, like being struck by lightning.

You'd had enough of him using your body for his own impure pleasure.

“I have a mission for you” he added.

"What mission?"

"I keep my promises, you know. I need you to find me another body ...of a powerful sorcerer so I can return to my true form."

You smiled, aware that this task wouldn't be simple, but it meant Megumi could finally be free.

"When do I start?"

"Tonight," he smirked.

Determination filled you; after all, you were his servant.

"And after that, Sukuna, stay away from Megumi, Satoru, and all of my loved ones."

He laughed, his red eyes penetrating your soul.

"Don't worry about them. Worry about yourself. Though I do fancy Megumi's body; he's rather handsome, much better than that brat Yuji."

You swallowed hard, the thought of being Sukuna's perpetual captive made your heart sink, a bitter taste of self-disgust settling in.

"You seem uncomfortable. Am I the cause of your nerves, little sorcerer? Or is it because you can't resist the thought of how I make you feel when you repeatedly scream my name?" he inquired, drawing nearer and trapping you between his sturdy shoulders and the bed frame.

"I-I'm not," you stammered.

"I must acknowledge that you, a frail human, have indeed impressed me," he declared.

You remained silent, not trynna say something wrong that would lead him to fucking the attitude out of you.

His hand gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"The power of love led you to sacrifice yourself for those who don't even care about you, Gojo Satoru hah.. Do you truly believe that brat loves you? If he did, he'd be here trying to snatch you away from me. But he's witnessed death and thinks staying alive after dying on my hands is more important than saving you, you.. the one risking it all for him."

He attempted to manipulate you like a puppet, trying to mold you into his likeness. Making you see the flaws in people instead of giving them excuses. Yet, he forgot that you possess a heart that keeps you human rather than a heartless curse.

You're the one who prayed and hoped Gojo wouldn't come to save you, fearing Sukuna might kill him again. Even though you didn't want him around, your heart couldn't shake the slight ache, the idea that what Sukuna said might be true.

"Submit to me, obey me. Let me introduce you to a different kind of love. I can provide pleasure in ways his mind can't comprehend. As the king of curses, I promise you eternal protection."

His lips crashed yours, the strong hand on your waist pulled you closer to him, forcing you to straddle his lap.

You tried to push him away, to turn your head to the other side but he was way stronger than you. Kissing you hungrily, his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth, biting, licking, sucking.. leaving you completely breathless.

“S-submit to me” he whispered against your lips.

His mouth started trailing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, neck and collarbone, moistening the soft skin of yours with his saliva.

While his hands roamed your waist, finally resting on your hips pushing you down on his clothed crotch.

Each touch setting you on fire

You hated this, with each cell in your body.. but you couldn't help the wetness building up between your thighs..

He drove you crazy from the intense pleasure, of how his mouth worked, even though he didn't touch you...yet.. it was just a kiss.

The harshness of the kisses, made you lower lip bleed..

“ohh I see I made it bleed..” he smirked, proud of what he did to you.

He opened his mouth again, his tongue licking off the blood off of your lip.. Savouring your taste, humming.

Finally breaking the kiss, letting you breathe.

Choosing to submit means being stuck with him forever, while refusing means your death. That little heart of yours, desires life but not this one. You dream of a life with Satoru and your friends, not on Sukuna's side—alive for his desires, doing his dirty work, while he's robbing you of freedom and your will to live.

"If I do, if I submit, can I see them one last time? Will you allow me to give them a proper goodbye?"

Tags:

@wifenanami

@certainduckanchor

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danikamariewrites · 6 days

Note

Hi! I’m in LOVE with your blog! Would you be able to write something with nessian x reader where the reader has just an awful no good day/week and maybe something small sets her off and they comfort her and calm her down? I have had a very bad week and I had a whole breakdown over dropping a pen lol and I wish they had been there to comfort me. Anyways, I hope you have an amazing day!!!

Just A Bad Day

Nessian x reader

a/n: They would be so sweet and caring, especially Cass my fav gentle giant☺️ also I’m so sorry this feels very boring/typical. I might take a break for a few days bc this slump is killing me.

warnings: slight angst

Slamming the front door an angry sigh escapes your lips. You head staright to your personal bedroom wanting space from your mates. If you saw anyone right now you might yell at them.

Not even bothering to take your boots off you flop on the bed face down. Grabbing your pillow you stuff your face into the feathery soft fabric letting out a blood curdling scream.

You screamed and screamed and screamed until there was no air left in your lungs. Until your throat burned. Throwing the pillow as hard as you could against the headboard you flop back down on the bed.

Why are people so difficult to deal with? Today made you never want to speak with the governors or the general public ever again. You don't know if you just weren't communicating properly or what. But everyone was stupid and deserves to have a bad day. Not you.

After an hour of laying in bed you decided your throat was tortured enough and that cold water was necessary. Making your way down the stairs Nesta and Cassian's mixed scents hit you. It didn't calm you or anger you. You felt nothing but the exhaustion slowly creeping into your bones.

Another sigh leaves your lips as you open the cup cabinet. Frowning, you realize the glass you want is on a higher than usual self. Not feeling like asking Cassian to get it for you you strech up on your tip toes, grasping at the edge of the shelf. As your mind wandered to Cassian's usual teasing remarks about your height you get angrier.

The glass was just out of reach. Just a hair's breadth away from your finger tip. Your nail finally catches on the glass, bringing it forward. You finally grasp it with between your fingers and pull it down.

The glass slips from between your pointer finger and thumb. Your other hand reacts thanks to your fae reflexes, landing safely in your palm. You turn on your heel a little too quickly, sending the glass flying out of your grasp. It hits the wall shattering far too loudly.

Your hands go to cover your ears instantly. Tears pricking your eyes. You try to tune out the muffled sounds of Cassian and Nesta’s worried voices followed by their footsteps. Your face quickly contorted in anger. Angry at yourself. At the fucking glass. At your mates.

Your fingers tug at your hair in frustration. Your eyes are so clouded by tears you don’t even see Cassian in front of you. He gently takes your hands in his large ones. Slightly pressing his thumbs into your palms to lessen the death grip on the roots of your hair.

“Hey,” he coos, “what’s going on sweet pea?” You don’t look at him. Keeping your eyes down so you don’t break at the look of pity on their faces. Nesta hooks a finger under your chin, pulling your face up to look at them. The sad frowns on their lips broke you. The last thing you wanted to do today was upset or disappoint your mates.

Nesta took in a sharp breath at the projection of your feelings through the bond. “Oh, sweetheart. We’re not upset with you at all.” She wraps her arms tightly around your shoulders, swaying you gently. At Nesta’s loving embrace you break down. Sobs shaking your body.

Cassian smoothed your hair talking you through your tears. “I’m sorry.” You choked out repeatedly through your sobs. After hearing enough Cassian pulls you into his arms to carry you upstairs. Sitting you in his lap you continue to cry into his chest.

Nesta finally joins she has the glass of ice water you’ve been dying for. Just like Cassian taught her Nesta began massaging the pressure point on the back of your neck. She wanted to do everything to prevent your eventual headache.

When your tears finally stopped you took deep shaky breaths. They were coming too fast making the simple task difficult. Cassian laid you flat on the sheets to give you space. “Slow down, y/n. In for five and out for five.” He began to breathe with you until you finally calmed down. “Thank you,” you whisper.

You grabbed their hands so they can hold you up. Nesta hands you the water which you immediately gulp down. The cool liquid soothing your throat. Once it was empty Nesta took it from your hand. You lean into Cassian, resting your hand against his chest. Your fingers toy with the old fabric of his shirt to ground you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Nesta coos. You shake your head mumbling, “Just a bad day.” “Do you want to talk about it?” You sniffle and shake your head. “No. That cry was good enough, honestly.” A short humorless laugh escapes your lips. Cassian kisses the top of your head letting out a small hum in answer. “Let’s get you some dinner and relax, yeah?” You nod again. Cassian lifts you again, carrying you downstairs.

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jae-bummer · 1 year

Text

More Than You Wanted

Request: HALLO MY DEAR! Welcome back to writing 💛 May I HUMBLY request either 7 or 9 (or both cause we all love that hurt comfort spice) with the one and only Mr. Kim Mingyu? He's moved into bias zone, I am ASHAMED /s

Prompt:

7) "Doesn't matter what happens...if you call me, I will always answer."

9) "I don't want them. I want you."

Prompt list can be found HERE.

Pairing: Seventeen Mingyu x Reader

Genre: Angst/Steamy

The carpet in your apartment building was disgusting. Covered in dirt (at least you hoped that's what the stains were) and always kind of moist, you avoided contact with it at all costs. But now, you were sitting on it. Slumped against the wall behind you with your head in your hands, you were sitting on the world's dirtiest carpet and crying.

It had been approximately two hours since you had contacted your building's repair man, and an hour since you talked to anyone in management. You had locked yourself out and were completely exhausted. All you wanted was to lay down and maybe binge watch your favorite drama. You hadn't signed up for enrichment time outside of your enclosure today.

Cringing as the idea came across your mind, you looked helplessly down at your phone. It would be just so easy to text your ex-boyfriend. The two of you had never met up to exchange each other's things, so he still had your key.

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly, you lifted up your phone and scrutinized the battery life. It was running below 10% at this point, so if you were going to do it, you needed to suck it up. Scrolling almost to the bottom of your saved text messages, you found Mingyu's name and tapped.

you busy?

That was safe, right? You didn't want to make him worry and you certainly didn't want to inconvenience him. You had done enough of that in your past relationship.

You weren't surprised when you saw typing bubbles appear before you had even locked your phone. Of course, he was going to be hyper available during your crisis.

Depends. What's up?

What a terrible non-response.

i was wondering if you could stop by and drop off my key?

Want me to bring the rest of your stuff?

not if it's not already with you...

"Why would it already be with him?" you muttered. "Please use your one active brain cell before you hit send again."

i just really need my key

Contrary to what you may believe, I have no plans to break into your apartment. Can I drop it off at the end of the week?

You groaned, leaning back and lightly bonking your head repeatedly on the wall behind you.

Resisting the urge to reply with "that's fine" and leave your fate in the hands of your apartment complex, you quickly typed out a message.

i locked myself out of my apartment.

Give me 10 minutes.

Breathing a momentary sigh of relief, you commended yourself. Texting Mingyu had not been easy, but it was a necessary evil for your own mental well-being. Surely you could play nice for approximately 45 seconds while he handed you your key and walked back down the stairs. You had 45 seconds worth of gratitude in your system, didn't you?

Closing your eyes, you tried not to think too hard about seeing him again. Naturally, that had the opposite effect, and you began dragging out memories that you hadn't touched in weeks. Your relationship had started out innocently enough. You had been an English tutor for the entertainment company that Mingyu was signed to and tutored him weekly. After spending hours upon hours with each other, a natural closeness formed between the two of you. While yes, you had been close to all of the artists in one way or another, something with him was different. It was something warmer, something more incendiary.

You found yourself actually paying attention to how you dressed or how you styled your hair. Starting to become overly interested in your personal appearance likely should have been a red flag. You knew better than to start anything with an idol.

Against your better judgement, your sessions quickly turned into flirting for hours. Mingyu was incredibly smart, so it wasn't a surprise when he was ahead in his English lessons. With the spare time, you got to know each other. Finally, one day he asked you out for dinner.

With time, the two of you had become inseparable. That was until the company found out about the burgeoning relationship. It only took days for them to threaten Mingyu until he said he couldn't see you anymore. It came as no surprise that a few weeks later, they had alienated you so entirely that you put in your notice.

"Stupid," you muttered to yourself. "How could you have been so stupid."

"People forget their keys all the time, Y/N," you heard a familiar voice say above you. "Do you know how often I lock myself out of places?"

"But you have twelve other people to rely on," you sighed, opening your eyes. "And I have...well, you."

Mingyu looked down, a sad smile playing over his lips. God, why was he allowed to look so good? You could tell he had showered only minutes ago judging by his damp hair. He had thrown on a pair of fitted joggers and a t-shirt. It should be against the law to make casual wear look so expensive just by being hot.

Using the wall as leverage, you pulled yourself up to stand. "Thanks for doing this. I didn't mean to disrupt your whole afternoon."

"Don't" he said softly, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter what happens...if you call me, I will always answer."

He dug around in his pocket, producing the pink Hello Kitty key you gave him ages ago. It looked so small in the palm of his hand.

"Well anyhow," you said quietly, taking it. "Thanks."

He nodded, signaling the end of the conversation. You went to turn away from him but paused. He wasn't moving.

"Y/N, this whole thing" he motioned between the two of you. "When did this happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"When did we become strangers?" he sighed. "Because honestly it is hurts so bad."

An unknown feeling of annoyance bubbled up to the surface. "Mingyu, you broke up with me."

"You had to have known that it wasn't really me," he whispered, looking away. "I didn't have much of a choice at the time."

"Whether you did or not, we knew it wasn't going to work out in the long run."

"Don't say that!" he snapped. "I loved you...I still love you."

"Mingyu," you said quietly, deflated by his reaction. "You have millions of people out there wanting you. You're an idol. If your company discourages you dating noncelebrities, that is what it is."

"I don't want them. I want you," he said hoarsely. Stepping closer, he took your face in his hands.

You could feel tears beginning to gather at your lash line. "Mingyu-"

"Let me talk to them. The management team and everyone above and in between. Let me fight for us like I was too scared to do before," he whispered.

You tried to shake your head, but your face remained caught. Reaching up and placing your hands atop his, you sighed. "I wish it were that easy."

"It's not easy at all" he said, furrowing his brows. His eyes searched yours. "Nothing about love is easy. Nothing worth fighting for is easy."

"Mingyu," you whimpered, tears starting to fall. "I just wanted my key..."

"Yeah, well," he breathed. "You're getting more than you wanted for once."

Before you could clock his advancement, Mingyu's lips were on yours. You felt your tears falling even faster as you reached to grasp the fabric of his shirt. Because of you, the kisses were much wetter than normal, but it didn't stop his urgent need. He was manic with his movements; afraid you may slip away at any point. After every labored breath, his lips found yours again and again. Biting, licking, groaning against your mouth, you thought you would simply unravel in the dingy hallway.

Eventually the two of you had to take a break, all of the emotion was just too much. His hands sliding from your face and resting on your hips, he looked down at you, his expression hopeful.

"Why don't you come inside?" you asked nervously, unsure of what would happen moving forward. "We can talk."

"Sure," Mingyu nodded, a genuine smile spreading across his lips. "I'd like that very much."

#kim mingyu #mingyu #seventeen #svt #seventeen mingyu #svt mingyu #mingyu fanfic #mingyu oneshot #mingyu scenario #mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #mingyu angst #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen oneshot #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months

Note

AITA for breaking off a friendship without an explanation after a boundary has been crossed repeatedly?

This is one of those "happened a while ago, but still on my mind" stories. I (then 26F) had a long-term close friendship with a classmate from highschool (then 25F) in which we'd been really through a lot together, too much to recount here.

Relevant to the story is that I had just survived cancer a few months earlier, though. Also probably relevant is that we had started drifting apart a little bit recently anyway, because I wasn't as available for daily phone calls anymore due to a new job and a new relationship.

To get to the matter of the friendship break-up fight: I usually proofread her papers for university as a courtesy, she didn't proofread mine, which I didn't mind - orthography is a skill of mine and she showed up for me in different ways. Now it was time for her to write her graduation thesis and I had agreed to help her with it if (!) she managed to finish it a couple days before the deadline this time, because I knew I was gonna be busy on the weekend of the deadline (hand-in on Monday morning). She had a history of procrastination, so I made that clear beforehand.

Friday evening rolls around, she hasn't send me anything yet and I figure she has it covered or found someone else to help her out.

On Saturday evening I'm entertaining guests, two friends who were emigrating halfway across the globe for work the next week. I haven't looked at my phone in hours, as I find that really rude on such a special occasion. I get a call on the landline from my thesis friend, telling me she's done and demanding I get on it immediately. I tell her that I'm busy hosting friends, and that I don't know when I'll next see these two.

She gets nasty. Demands again that I get right on it and to throw my guests out now. I can only put this down to severe stress. I tell her that I'll do it Sunday morning, but not now, and hang up. I get back to my goodbye party. Sunday morning I do the proofreading, send it back to her, we talk a little on the phone and I can tell she's still mad at me for blowing her off.

When I probe a bit and ask what's wrong, she blows up at me and tells me that she had expected better of me, that she expected me to be there for her and not other people in her time of need because she was there for me when I had cancer. That I should count myself lucky because unlike some other friends, she didn't leave me over my illness. (Which did happen, other friends left.)

I get very upset and tell her how much that hurts, that I don't feel it's fair to have this brought up in this context and that if she uses my cancer against me again, friendship over. She hands in her thesis on Monday, gets an A- for it.

Fast forward a couple months, a common friend calls me and tells me my thesis friend had said some incredibly rude things about me and she worries. I have her tell me the story and lo and behold, it's the same complaints: I wasn't grateful enough, didn't value her sacrifice during my chemo enough (visiting me in the same city every two weeks to watch shows together), she expected more devotion etc.

I tell the shared friend and thank you and block the thesis friend on all social media and my phone. I get calls from a hidden number at an insane rate for a week, which I don't pick up, and then that stops too - I'm still not sure if that was her, but the timing was... weird.

The shared friend tells the thesis friend that she told me, so the thesis friend definitely knows what caused me to block her - but I wasn't the one who told her why. Some of our shared friends still feel like I was an asshole for cutting her out like this, so am I?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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toosexymommys · 6 months

Text

Son, I'm serious, you get down on this matt and start stretching. I'm really getting worried about your health

LOOKING FOR A ROLEPLAYING PARTNER! (please only approach me about roleplay after reading below:)

The roleplay revolves around mom having an impossible fantasy about incest with her son. Son is a moral and ethical person, who would never cross that line. Therefore, mom's strategy is to find ways to tease him in ever more seductive ways hoping that one day he'll brake and just rape her. So, she makes up false reasons, lies and excuses to provide a believable cover and plausible deniability for increasingly teasing and seductive activity like dressing, acting, talking and touching in incestuous ways - but always for some unrelated or mistaken reason. She must always keep her true intentions under the radar or she'll scare her reluctant son away.

As this goes on, son always verbally maintains his position of moral purity (e.g., "mom, are you sure this is necessary? I feel like this is crossing the line", or "careful mom I can see your X!"). However, he never physically stops his mother's actions, as he respects his mother and doesn't want to offend her. He refuses to believe that she would actually have perverted desires for him, so he prefers to believe her excuses, ridiculous as they may sometimes be.

On the other hand, it so happens that Son's moral objections and discomfort from his own attraction to his mother is exactly what mother lusts for and turns her on more than anything in the world - so the more he resists, the more turned on she becomes.

Clarifications:

At NO POINT in the roleplay do either mom or son admit to their incestuous desires for each other. The entire roleplay revolves around finding excuses, reasons and lies that mother uses to allow for increasingly perverted activity to happen. I didn't give examples for these reasons as all the fun is in coming up with them. The story can be modified in any way to make the reasons work, e.g. defining the circumstances (e.g., lockdown) professions (e.g., she's a physical therapist, doctor, or psychologist), etc.

With that in mind, so long as we come up with good excuses, things can go VERY far. In fact, given a good enough reason/excuse, even full sex can occur (but it does require some real creativity to come up with a seemingly non-incestuous, non-perverted reason why it's necessary for son to stick his penis in his mother pussy and thrust repeatedly. But it's not impossible!)

Bonus game which I also love: Husband/Father also has a secret mom-son incest fetish, and so he's the one coming up with fake reasons and excuses why mom and son need to see or touch each other in ways that would normally be considered perverted. In this game mom is (surprisingly) cooperative with fathers suggestions/requirements, and son is still the reluctant/moral/innocent "victim" of the situation, though he doesn't physically stop it and must comply with his parents wishes. It's also possible to have a daughter/Sister in a similar role to this Husband/father (that is - who loves mom/son incest). In any case, all erotica revolves around mom-son.

I don't mind playing either son or mom (or husband/dad, or sister/daughter). My favourite - we switch between the characters.

I'm not interested in passive partners who just expect me to do all the writing.

When I come online, it's usually around 10pm-1am CET (Europe), 4pm-7pm EST (US), 2am-5am India.

I'm not interested in any roleplay that doesn't follow these guidelines. So please ONLY ask me about roleplaying if you've read all of the above and you LIKE it (don't expect me to compromise about the above 6 rules). However, so long as we're keeping within these (admittedly stringent) boundaries, I'm open to any scenario.

you can send me a message here on Tumblr or by email/hangouts at [email protected]

If all of the above sounds good to you, we may be a rare and incredible match, so I definately would be thrilled to hear from you!

#hot mommy #mommy k!nk #mommy milkers #son #mommy #cougar #teasing #sexy tease #yoga

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solomons-poison · 10 months

Note

you ask for distraction, i oblige i offer the choice of either prompt below:

♡ kissing their knuckles to ease their anxiety

♡ kissing them softly when they’re hurt

with the choice of any of the following characters: leviathan, satan, belphegor

Ooh thank you, it'll be good to write a little self-indulgent anxiety piece, and we'll give some love to Levi, our most anxious sweetheart

Leviathan x GN!reader

♡ kissing their knuckles to ease their anxiety

You'd been bouncing your knee repeatedly, just barely visible at the edge of Levi's peripheral vision as he was involved in a game raid. It wasn't unusual for you to be a little restless while he was gaming, and you'd often busy yourself with something while awaiting Levi to be done with his session. He didn't think anything of it, assuming you to be a little bored and made a mental note to take a break once this raid was finished.

He said something to you, asking about what to do when he was done gaming, suggesting maybe watching a new anime he'd been eyeing recently. But there was no response, and he got distracted by his teammates before he could think more of it. It wasn't until afterwards, saying goodbye to his team before logging off and taking off his headphones, that he turned to see you spaced out, leg still bouncing in place.

Levi was all too familiar with anxiety, knew the way it could shut you down, make your mind run at a million miles an hour yet unable to process a single thing. He called out to you softly, trying not to jar you, then a little bit louder, which finally garnered a small response, the slightest hum from your chest. Looking down, he could see your hands were tightly clenched, and he gently reached out to hold your hands in his.

It took a moment, but your fingers relaxed just the tiniest bit, letting him slip his own fingers in to hold them close. In times like these, there wasn't much he could do, other than provide his presence and hope it was enough. But although he couldn't say anything, he could still provide some physical relief, something comforting. He leaned forward, pressing soft kisses to your strained knuckles, not missing the way your hands were shaking against him. As if a switch flipped, the feel of his kisses brought you out of your space, automatically taking a deep breath now that you were back in the present.

Levi's worried eyes met yours, a burning orange full of love and sweetness, and you couldn't help but give him a small smile at his thoughtful gestures, letting your hands relax in his. There was no miracle cure when the anxiety hit you out of nowhere, but your lover's kisses never failed to bring you warmth and ease your nerves at least a little. You don't know how you'd lucked out with such a sweetheart, but his consideration and sweetness was always a boon, the way he gave you space and time to confront it the way you want. It let you know that, no matter the troubles you faced in the future, he would always be there for you and help you through it.

—

Send me a type of kiss and a character!

#leviathan x reader #levi x reader #obey me leviathan #obey me shall we date #˗ˏˋ꒰ minx replies ꒱

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garpond · 10 days

Text

i feel like i have a lot to say about ocd now that ive been working towards teaching myself ERP for the better part of a year.. probably one of the most useful things to me was learning to visualize OCD as something like an ai large language model. or generative image ai or something if your ocd comes in more as visuals. but thats the best way ive found to explain how it works. even though your mind really knows how to hit on your worst fears, its important to remember that the part of your brain responsible for intrusive thoughts doesn't actually know what it's saying... it only learns what is a "threat" and what isn't based on your reactions to things and the thoughts that happen in your conscious mind. but that's all it is- the use of your conscious awareness/memories/learned information/etc to pick out patterns and use those patterns to send you thoughts.

Like... imagine you for some reason decided to train an LLM to generate messages that scare you. at first the messages arent tailored to you at all, just random potentially scary things it's drawing from its machine-learning understanding of what concepts are "scary". most of them don't bother you, but eventually it makes one that really freaks you out. in response, you give a positive rating to this message, and the Ai knows that *this* is what you want when you say "scary". so after this, the AI just keeps using this positively-rated message to make related scary things, or even just re-hash that same exact message and repeatedly send it to you. since it got your feedback on that one, it now knows that this is what it is "supposed" to be doing, so it's just going to keep doing that, even though it doesn't actually understand WHAT it's saying the way a human being would.

that's basically all OCD is, believe it or not. it's a type of anxiety disorder that occurs when a random thought from your subconscious was reacted to with an amount of fear and distress that signaled to the brain that the content of the thought must be a threat, and that something needs to be done to neutralize it. but again, your brain doesn't actually understand what the thought was, or what the threat was supposed to Be. All it wants is this: to "warn" you about the Scary Thing all of the time, since clearly you are very worried about it, and to get you to do something to Protect Yourself From Scary Thing. It doesn't know wtf is going on!! For all it knows, maybe your house is filled with deadly snakes and that's what you're so afraid of all the time, so it needs to remind you to watch out for snakes and it can only relax when your brain activity indicates that you Have in fact watched out for snakes. But it doesn't grasp the situation itself- only the mechanics of it. This snake situation could just as easily be "oh my god what if i dropped my credit card in the gas station I need to walk around the whole building again staring at the floor and then check my bag and then check my bag Again and" and your brain genuinely will not know the fucking difference. It only grasps "scary thing, neutralizing thing" chain of events, and your level of fear when it sends you the prompt to Watch Out. This is how OCD perpetuates itself- it sends you a Scary Thought complete with a large fear reaction, and when you Do The Thing, it serves as positive feedback for the brain and it thinks "wow, looks like there was a threat! I'm doing a good job. I'll continue." It's not trying to hurt you, and it doesnt KNOW anything about the situation that you don't... it just has no idea what's going on because it wasn't built to, and it's doing its best. It didn't evolve to understand situations the way your conscious brain does. It only evolved to make you react to things that scare you fast enough to keep you alive. And so consequently, it doesn't grasp whether or not the thing it's making you worry about actually makes any practical sense. And this is where ERP comes in, because the way to get your brain to Let Go of that topic is to train it in reverse. Just like you'd train an AI, basically. ERP preventing a response is basically teaching you how to train your brain that there is no threat, and that's why we don't have to do the action. The less you do the action/compulsion, the more times you send your brain the message that this thought isn't important, this isn't something that needs to be worried about, and it doesn't have to keep sending you that intrusive thought and anxiety. And it works!! If you would have told me a year ago that I would make as much progress as I had I probably would have started crying because I didn't think it was possible but here I am. It's possible to take your life back and learn how to keep OCD manageable! It just takes patience, trust in yourself (which you have to build from the ground up which is HARD and SUCKS but please keep at it), and a willingness to learn about OCD and how it functions. but it's been helpful for me, so helpful that I cannot recommend it enough

#THIRD TIME. PLEASE POST #WHATS WRONG W THIS POST...#ocd

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kisilinramblings · 15 days

Note

I’m currently bothering everyone with questions and statements who reblogged that “please bother me with questions and statements” post, so: Do you have a weird fact that won’t leave your mind that you feel like sharing with all of us?

Hmm... Weird fact? I don't think so. Well, I do one thing that bothers me, but I dunno if you can really call it a fact.

Lately, my job did encourage us to learn AI tools as we are starting to incorporate those in our workflow. And well, I did start to check AI tools for video editing and boy, I am worried. Not about my job, but about the fact that since now you can just create videos from start to finish with the minimal amount of efforts and research without at any point reviewing your video and double checking up before posting a video that could hit all the algorithm markers to spread.

You can have Chat GPT create a text for you, import it into another website (because Tech Bros sure love websites instead of developing actual softwares to work locally) in which the text will be transpose as "scenes". Then you can pick up shutterstock like video from their database to add to the scene. Oh! And what about the ai-generated videos you can create with a prompt! And AI can also help you generated clickbait titles and so long.

Heck, the tutorial I saw had a guy explain how to make a youtube video through AI step by step and his subject was... "good" aliments for pregnant women. Imagine. This is a public health issue! Each year, I have ads I have to proofhead by an external agence before sending them to a TV broadcaster and anything related to health, medicine, cosmetic and alimentation are heavily scrutinized upon and there are very strict rules on what is allowed to say or show regarding those specific domains. You even will have to go to an higher governmental instance and pay for an highly qualify approval to proofhead that your ad isn't a public health hazard and can be broadcasted on TV. (Sidenote : if you are wondering why you often see TV ads with just people saying repeatedly the name of a product without any information aside of "Ask your doctor about it", this is thanks and because of that process).

But on social medias, on youtube, this barrier doesn't exist before posting. Someone in the public has to report when the content is inappropriate or dangerous often time after it has gone viral.

Anyway, it is becoming easier and easier to spread misinformation that can be very harmful. That is what is worrying me the most. And it will only go exponentially from here because now ANYBODY could make videos and the most dangerous people are often the ignorant people because they are way more ignorant people than malevolent and ill-intentioned ones.

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machifuwa · 1 year

Text

Nimbus Fumble | Episode 6

Season: Winter

Aira: Ehehe…♪ This really feels so great. Love~ly ♪

(Oops. I couldn't help but say it out loud. Both Sakuma-senpai and Tenshouin-senpai are already sleeping, so I have to be quiet.)

(I never thought I'd be able to make such a great video, and now I'm going to watch it over and over again. I'll watch it one last time before going to bed.)

(Ehehe. I can't thank Himemiya-senpai and Kohakucchi enough. This will surely be a hit. My followers will be surprised.)

(But for now. I'll also have to think about who to give the next baton to. Who should I give it to…?)

(It would be really surprising if I gave it to someone I don't know very well. So, the best option is to give it to the Alkaloid members, huh…?)

(Hmm. But Hiro-kun's not familiar with SNS. He definitely won't notice it if I give him the baton, even if I mention him.)

(No, since we're talking about Hiro-kun here. He'll definitely say "I've got the baton! Where do I run?".)

(Then, there's only Mayo-san and Tattsun-senpai…)

(No, if Mayo-san had danced the "Rabbit Dance Challenge"...it would've been such a big deal that it would be a trending topic itself.)

Hmm… Who should I pick…?

(I've been repeatedly sending and deleting mentions to various people…)

(I really can't think of anyone that would make me feel "this person for sure!"...)

*Yawn*

(Hmm… It seems like it's not…suited for anyone…I don't know…maybe I'm just confused…)

*Zzz zzz*

Aira: *Zzz*

Tori: Shiratori~! Wake up~!

Aira: …Hm? Huh~? Who…? Why are you so loud in the morning…

Tori: Shiratori~! Something serious came up!

Aira: *Yawn* Who is it…?

Tori: Finally!

Aira: Himemiya-senpai? What's wrong with you, this early in the morning? I haven't even washed my face yet…

Tori: I don't care! It's the baton! Why is the baton of the "Rabbit Dance Challenge" being passed to Eichi-sama!?

Aira: Huh…? To Tenshouin-senpai?

No way. I'm confused, too. I didn't do that. I haven't even given the baton to anyone yet in the first place.

Yesterday, I was lying in my bed, looking at my phone, thinking about who I should give the baton to—

Huh? What…?

H-H-H-How did I give the baton Tenshouin-senpai!? Eh. Eeeehhhh!? Why? Why!?

Tori: That's what I want to know!

When I woke up this morning, I saw on SNS that you had passed the "Rabbit Dance Challenge" baton to Eichi-sama. It's trending like crazy right now.

Aira: Perhaps it was because I was repeatedly typing and deleting mentions of various people, so when I fell asleep, I gave the baton to Tenshouin-senpai by accident…!

H-H-H-Holy cow! Himemiya-senpai, what have I done!?

Tori: Anyway, the only thing you can do now is to go to Eichi-sama, explain the situation and apologize.

Aira: Y-You're right!

Uhh. When I woke up, Sakuma-senpai and Tenshouin-senpai were already gone, so they're probably at ES right now. Let's go.

Tori: I asked the ES staff, and it seems that Eichi-sama is in StarPro's common room.

Alright? Just apologize when we get to Eichi-sama. If we do that, I don't think he will be very angry with you!

Aira: Y-Yes!

Tori: Alright~! Let's go!

Tori: Eichi-sama!

Aira & Tori: We're sorry!

Eichi: Hm? Hello, Tori and Shiratori-kun.

I was just about to contact Shiratori-kun. Thanks for the baton. Is this how you want my ears to look?

Aira & Tori: Eeehhh!?

Aira: Umm… Tenshouin-senpai, aren't you mad…?

Eichi: Mad? Why?

Aira: I mean. I passed the baton to you in front of everyone without permission…

Eichi: Aah, I see.

I'm not offended by that. In fact, I'm actually thankful. This is a project that could be used as fertilizer for the Ensemble Square flower beds.

Tori: Eh? What does that mean…?

Eichi: It's all about publicity, sensitivity, and all. Well, you don't have to worry about that. A lovely rabbit has to be immaculate, after all.

Aira & Tori: ?

Aira: B-But, I'm glad. I'm relieved there wasn't any problem…

Eichi: Fufu. I'm not that narrow-minded that I can't even grant the cute requests of my juniors with a smile ♪

Come on, you two. Will you both teach me how to be pretty so that my dancing will be lovely?

Prev | Masterlist

Translated by machi

#ensemble stars #enstars #eichi tenshouin #aira shiratori #tori himemiya

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babyzombiehottub · 2 months

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Apollo Justice, the legendary attorney with a nose for truth and an uncanny ability to wiggle out of sticky situations, found himself in a predicament that even his sharp wit couldn't extricate him from. It all began with a simple case of indigestion, but it quickly escalated into a full-blown case of explosive diarrhea. As Justice sat on the toilet, his usually sharp mind began to wander, contemplating the absurdity of his situation. "This is beyond embarrassing," he muttered to himself, "I've never been in a situation quite like this." He grimaced as another wave of diarrhea overtook him, the hot liquid flowing out of his body with such force that it splashed against the porcelain toilet bowl. "Fuck," he cursed, wiping his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. "I hope this is just a one-time thing. I can't afford to have everyone at the office finding out about this. They'd never let me live it down." He grunted as another wave of cramps rippled through his abdomen, making it feel like a hot poker was being repeatedly jabbed into his gut. "Shit, this hurts." He groaned, gripping the toilet seat for support as his insides convulsed once more. Just then, a knock came from the door. "Apollo? You okay in there, Apollo?" It was Phoenix Wright, his long-time friend and mentor. "I've been knocking for a few minutes now, and I'm starting to get worried." Apollo forced a weak chuckle. "Yeah, I'm fine, Mr. Wright. Just… in a delicate situation here. Can you give me a few more minutes?" There was a brief pause before Phoenix replied, his tone heavy with concern. "Are you sure? Because I can always send someone else to cover for you if you need me to." Apollo winced, his grip on the toilet tightening. "No, no, really, Mr. Wright, I've got this. I just need a little more time." He closed his eyes, trying to focus on breathing through the pain. "Thanks for your concern, though." Another wave of cramps hit him, and he let out a guttural moan. "Oh, man… this is agony…" He reached for a nearby roll of toilet paper, tearing off a few sheets and pressing them against his ass, hoping to stem the flow of diarrhea. As he clutched at the toilet paper, his bladder finally gave out, and he felt a hot stream of urine begin to flow out of him. "Great," he muttered, his voice cracking with exhaustion. "Just what I need right now…" He did his best to angle his hips so that the urine wouldn't mix with the diarrhea, but it was difficult to move with any coordination. The warmth of the urine against his sore ass felt uncomfortable, but it was a welcome relief from the burning sensation of the diarrhea. After what felt like an eternity, the pain finally began to subside. Apollo took a deep breath, wiped himself clean, and flushed the toilet. The familiar gurgling sound of the water and the whoosh of air were a welcome reminder that he was nearly out of danger. Standing up, he stretched his aching muscles and winced. His once-pristine suit was now stained and crumpled, and he would have to find a way to explain the smell. He walked out of the bathroom, still feeling a bit shaky, and made his way to his desk. Phoenix was still waiting outside, looking concerned. "Are you sure you're okay, Apollo?" he asked. "You don't look so good." Apollo forced a weak smile. "Thanks for asking, Mr. Wright. I think I'm on the mend now. Just give me a minute to catch my breath and get my bearings back."

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intersex-support · 1 year

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Wasn't sure where else to go so sorry for sending an ask during the blog hiatus but I feel a little bit like I'm losing my mind trying to work out why my body is the way that it is. I show a lot of symptoms of hyperandrogenism and I am (I believe?) Afab. However. I have been told recently that I show more signs of having gynecomastia than 'female breasts' and I know I was given estrogen during puberty because I wasn't developing the way I was expected to. I don't think I've ever had any lower surgeries but I do have an enlarged clitoris (over 4cm)and, for lack of a better description, more of a 'masculine' appearance to my labia majora, appearance wise they're very similar to a scrotum. I have also had extremely irregular menstrual cycles in the past that would be maybe once a year at best before stopping entirely. My doctors have repeatedly told me that everything is fine and I have no reason to worry, but refuse to answer if I ask if anything is 'normal' or not so I don't even know where to begin looking. I suspected something like CAH at first but, without the estrogen during puberty, I would have developed a body that was entirely male appearing aside from the genitals so I'm now incredibly unsure what to think and had no idea where else to ask about something like this - so I am sorry to bother you!

Hey, anon. Thank you so much for your patience and sorry for taking such a long time to answer your ask!

I'm going to give my usual disclaimer that we are not doctors, and cannot diagnose you--all the information we provide is to give you some suggestions of things to continue looking into.

So, with every trait you've listed out, I think it's very possible that you might be intersex. Reading over the things you've shared, there isn't one singular intersex diagnosis that jumps out to me as more likely than the others. When that's the case, what's been helpful to me is listing out a lot of possible diagnoses, and pointing out what symptoms match up, and which ones don't, in the hope that you can narrow it down a little. This is probably going to be a long post with a lot of options, but I hope this helps you figure out where to research next. I don't want you to get overwhelmed by the amount of information--obviously, most of these diagnoses are not going to be what you have, but since I'm not a doctor and can't do the tests to narrow it down, I want to walk you through what your options are.

One intersex variation that is a rare variation, but seems like it could possibly really line up with your symptoms is Aromatase Deficiency. When you have aromatase deficiency, your body does not have the enzyme that processes androgens into estrogen. You will have XX chromosomes, a vagina, uterus, and ovaries. However, usually at puberty, without HRT, people with aromatase deficiency may not develop breasts, might not start having a period or have very irregular periods. Also, it can cause variation in genitalia from birth, meaning people might have a larger clitoris and their labia can become fused, making it look like a scrotum. This seems like it really, really might be a possible option and lines up with a lot of things that you described. It looks like the diagnosis for this requires some blood testing and physical exams, as well as analyzing your medical history for other symptoms like ovarian cysts.

Another option is Swyer Syndrome. People with Swyer syndrome have XY chromosomes, but have complete gonadal dysgenesis, meaning that their gonads have not developed into testes. This means that they will have a vulva, vagina, and often can develop a uterus because of another hormone. People with Swyer Syndrome typically only have periods if they were on Estrogen therapy at puberty, like you were. Swyer syndrome is not as much associated with atypical genitalia, but it's still possible. To get a diagnosis, you would do a pelvic ultrasound, hormone testing, and karyotyping.

Another option is mixed gonadal dysgenesis, or another type of chromosomal mosaicism. This is a variation where you would have a 45X/46XY chromosome pattern, and both testicular tissue and some streak gonad tissue. People with mixed gonadal dysgenesis have a wide variety of ways that their genitalia might look, including having visible genitalia variations like what you've described, or a typical vagina or penis. Usually, people with mixed gonadal dysgenesis have some uterus tissue, and with being on E, that could cause your periods. With mixed gonadal dysgenesis, people usually go through some aspects of a testosterone-based puberty. To get this diagnosed, you would need to get some hormone tests done, a karyotype, and most likely a pelvic ultrasound. This is another rare variation, but is a possibility. Ovotestes would present very similarly to the symptoms listed above, and would be diagnosed similarly.

It's possible that you could have CAH and have just had some of the symptoms go away because you were put on E during puberty, but I think that might depend on some other things from your medical history. CAH can cause genital differences and fused labia, but that seems to be more common with Classic CAH, which is usually diagnosed at birth, rather than Non classic CAH. So if there's other hormone medication that you've been on throughout your childhood like hydrocortisone or fludrocortisone, that would be a really big sign that you have CAH. Your symptoms don't seem to line up 100% with CAH, but I think that's something that's still an option that you could consider getting hormone tests like an ACTH stim test to rule out.

Please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, but from what you've shared, it doesn't sound like you've ever had testing or imaging to confirm whether you have a womb, uterus, and ovaries. I know you said you had a period, but because you said it's happened so rarely and has now stopped completely, one hypothesis could be that what you've experienced in the past wasn't actually a menstrual cycle, but was vaginal bleeding caused by vaginal atrophy or another cause. I think this is less likely, but if you rule out every other option, this might be a route to explore.

So, hypothetically if you found out you don't have a uterus or womb or ovaries, you could explore 5-alpha reductase deficiency, 17 beta HSD, Partial Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome These are all intersex variations where you have XY chromosomes, don't have a womb or uterus, and either don't produce testosterone, or can't synthesize and produce the testosterone that your body does produce. People with 5 ARD, 17 beta HSD, PAIS can be born with a vulva and vagina, a penis, or genitalia that doesn't look quite like either. If your gonads (testes) were removed as a child, you would not be able to go through puberty without taking either E or T. If you still had your testes, then unless you went on E, your body could naturally go through a some aspects of a typical testosterone puberty. If you got an ultrasound and it turned out that you didn't have uterus and a womb, then these variations might line up with some of the traits you described, like having to take estrogen to go through puberty but still having some traits associated with hyperandrogenism. This also could explain the "masculine" appearance of your labia. Overall, these variations are probably a less likely option, though.

Summary: This was a ton of information and not all of it will apply to you! In general, it seems like the intersex variations that are the most likely possibilities are aromatase deficiency, with CAH, Swyer Syndrome, or mixed gonadal dysgenesis/ another type of mosaicism being other possible options. To get a diagnosis for any of these things and to start to narrow it down, you likely want to find a reproductive endocrinologist and a gynecologist so that you could get hormone testing, pelvic ultrasounds, and potentially chromosome testing done. It also might be worth trying to get copies of your medical records and history, or trying to get information from your family about any diagnoses and treatment that might have been made while you were a child.

I would suggest reading through this glossary of intersex variations to get more information, and also checking out this website called DSD teens to get more basic info about what puberty looks like for different variations (content warning for cissexist language and assumptions on that page.)

I can't tell you whether or not to identify as intersex, but what I can say is that there are a lot of things you've shared that are things that other intersex people would resonate with, and a lot of intersex spaces that would welcome you. And I completely understand that the process of questioning intersex can be so stressful and isolating--you deserve support while going through that. Feel free to reach back out to us, and if you're over 18, I'm happy to give you a link to an intersex discord that you could join. Please feel free to ask any other questions, and truly wishing you the best and sending love your way!

-Mod E

#actuallyintersex #intersex #long post #aromatase deficiency #swyer syndrome #mixed gonadal dysgenesis #questioning intersex #intersex diagnosis

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