#I want to do something to distract myself but I can't focus on anything so here I am screeching into the void

[laurelindebear]

I've been very unwell today and my queue is pretty short at the moment, so I might go quiet for a bit. Honestly I might end up in hospital again. I've been struggling for awhile and it's gotten worse, and I'm about past my limit of managing.

Take care of yourselves. xo

[firstelevens]

something annoying happened at work today and I really can only be annoyed about it on principle because the only person with any power in this situation just kind of shrugged and like I understand that we provide a public service so we have bigger problems on a daily basis than one employee doing something unsanctioned that will lightly inconvenience every other employee in the building and this cannot be the hill I choose to die on but I'm very very good at my job and I am a serial rule-follower and I know how long it takes for basic things to get done because there's protocol that we have to follow so unfortunately I do need 5-7 days to stew in fury over someone else just choosing the 'forgiveness over permission route' and altering the way an entire section of our library is shelved based on a whim that he had and then???? getting away with it because he's?????? mild mannered?????

[pollen]

hi fellow neurodivergent people

i hate to jump on the "i think i might have adhd" bandwagon, but if i think i might have adhd, how do i bring it up to my care team as a 28-year-old cis woman who was a massive overachiever until i couldn't keep up the ruse anymore?

[icewindandboringhorror]

feeling sick constantly in the background all the time is like.. usually negligible-ish.. until multiple various chronic background issues all happen to overlap at once and then it’s like 

[julietsf1]

Focus with Franco - Franco Colapinto x Reader

summary: Studying for exams is tough, but trying to focus while your yapper boyfriend, Franco, is around? Impossible. (2k words)

content: cute yapper franco, wholesome vibes only

AN: work starts again next week so I'm writing so much in advance rn!! I have this super cute halloween fic I can't wait to post ^_^

_____________________________________

I'm seated at my usual table in the cozy corner of my favorite café, surrounded by textbooks, notes, and a half-empty cup of coffee. It’s test week, and the weight of impending deadlines presses heavily on my shoulders. Normally, this is my sanctuary, a place where I can zone in and get things done, but today is different. Today, I have a very lively distraction sitting across from me—my boyfriend, Franco.

He insisted on joining me today, claiming he wanted to spend time with me, even if it meant sitting quietly while I studied. But quiet and Franco? Those two things don’t exactly go hand in hand. From the moment he sat down, his restless energy has been evident—he’s bouncing his leg under the table, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the surface, and stealing glances at the pastry display every chance he gets.

I hadn’t seen Franco in what felt like forever. Between my busy university schedule and his constant travels, the time we spent together had been scarce. I missed the ease of hanging out, the silly conversations, and his infectious laugh. So, when he suggested coming along to “keep me company” during my study session, I couldn’t really say no. I was excited to see him, even if I knew his presence would make focusing a challenge.

"Do you think I should get another cappuccino? Maybe a hot chocolate? Ooh, or one of those caramel lattes!" Franco muses out loud, glancing over at the counter. His eyes flicker to the pastries in the display case, and he grins mischievously. "Or maybe something sweet? You need brain fuel, right?"

"Franco, I’m trying to focus," I reply, smiling despite myself. He’s so effortlessly charming that even when he’s distracting me, I can’t be annoyed.

“I know, I know. You’re in full-on study mode,” he says, putting his hands up in mock surrender. "Silent as a shadow, I promise. Just here for moral support. Quiet, calm moral support. You wouldn’t even notice I’m here." He mimics zipping his lips and leans back, a mischievous glint still dancing in his green eyes.

“Right,” I say, fighting back a laugh. “Completely invisible.”

In truth, he’s anything but invisible. His presence is like a ray of sunshine on an otherwise cloudy day—warm, bright, and impossible to ignore. Even now, as I glance over my notes, I can hear him humming softly to himself, tapping his foot to some imaginary beat. His energy is contagious, but not exactly the kind that helps me get through chapters of academic content.

“You’re staring at your notes, but I don’t think you’re reading them,” he teases after a few minutes of quiet.

I let out a sigh, finally looking up from the page I’ve been pretending to focus on. “I’m trying. You’re just... a little distracting.”

His expression shifts to one of mock innocence. “Me? Distracting? You are offending me, cariño.”

I shake my head, amused by his puppy-like energy. Franco, with his boundless enthusiasm and natural charm, is impossible to resist. He’s always buzzing with ideas, questions, and random thoughts, much like a Labrador puppy who can’t sit still but is too cute to be annoyed at.

“I could help,” he continues, nodding at my books. “You explain it to me, and I’ll quiz you. I’m a great study partner, you know.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I chuckle. “I’m pretty sure you’d turn every question into something about racing or capybaras.”

Franco leans back and says with a playful sigh, “Ay, qué optimista eres,” (Oh, you’re so optimistic), giving me a grin that says he knows exactly how distracting he’s being.

I laugh, rolling my eyes at him, while he beams, leaning back in his chair, clearly proud of himself.

“Okay, maybe not racing. But capybaras? I could totally work with that. Did you know capybaras are basically the chillest animals ever?”

“See? Exactly my point,” I laugh. “I need to focus, Franco.”

He gives me a mock serious look, leaning forward again. “Okay, okay. I’ll be quiet. Silent. Like a... capybara.”

I try to hold back my smile, but it’s no use. He’s too endearing. As much as I need to study, it’s hard to be upset with Franco. He’s always so full of life, always so positive and uplifting. Being around him makes everything feel lighter, even during stressful times like test week.

After a few more failed attempts at reading the same paragraph, I finally sigh in defeat, setting my pen down. “Maybe I should’ve just stayed at the library…”

Franco’s face lights up, his grin spreading wide. “Nooo, come on! I’m helping, I promise! You need breaks, right? How about we take a little walk? Ice cream maybe? You’ll study better after some fresh air.”

“Franco…”

“Ice cream solves everything,” he says, not missing a beat. “You’ve been working hard! A quick break won’t hurt.”

I look at him, seeing that spark of excitement in his eyes. He’s like a puppy, always ready for fun, always eager to make me smile. And, as much as I want to get through my study session, part of me knows he’s right. A break might actually help.

“Fine,” I agree, starting to gather up my things. “But we’re getting back to work after, okay?”

“Of course,” he nods enthusiastically. “Ice cream first, study later.”

As soon as I stand, Franco’s on his feet, taking my bag from me before I even reach for it. “I’ve got it,” he says with a playful wink, throwing it over his shoulder like it’s no big deal. “This is what I’m here for—moral support and bag-carrying services.”

I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips as I follow him out of the café. The afternoon sun greets me as I step outside, its warmth a welcome contrast to the cool café air. Franco grabs my hand, swinging it lightly as we walk down the street toward the ice cream shop.

“So, what flavor are you getting?” he asks, already deep in thought about his own choice. “I’m thinking something with chocolate. Or maybe caramel? Or both! You can never go wrong with both.”

I chuckle at his enthusiasm. “You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”

“I mean, it’s ice cream. You can’t just make these decisions lightly,” he says, completely serious.

After we both get our ice creams—Franco, as predicted, goes for a mix of chocolate and caramel—we stroll toward the nearby park. The sound of children playing and dogs barking fills the air, and for a moment, the world feels simple and carefree.

Franco, of course, is still talking. He’s switched from ice cream to racing, then to a random story about a funny moment at a team meeting. His thoughts flow effortlessly from one topic to another, like a stream that never runs dry.

“Did you know,” he says between bites of his ice cream, “that capybaras are basically friends with everyone? They even let other animals hang out with them, like birds and monkeys. They’re so cool.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Why are you so obsessed with capybaras today?”

He shrugs, a playful grin on his face. “They’re fascinating creatures. Plus, I feel like they’re the perfect animal to study when you’re stressed. All chill and unbothered by anything.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I say, nudging him gently with my elbow.

“But you love me,” he replies, his voice softening.

“I do,” I admit, leaning into him as we walk. “Even if you’re the biggest distraction ever.”

The two of us finish our ice creams as the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the park. Franco slips his arm around me, pulling me closer as we walk in comfortable silence for a while. Despite the fact that I didn’t get much studying done, I feel lighter, more relaxed. The stress of test week seems distant now, overshadowed by the simple joy of spending time with him.

“We’ll really hit the books tomorrow,” Franco says after a few moments, his voice quieter now. “I’ll help you, and we’ll crush it.”

I smile, knowing full well that tomorrow will likely involve just as many distractions. But with Franco, everything feels a little easier, a little more fun.

“Deal,” I say, squeezing his hand. “But I’ll need complete focus tomorrow, no distractions.”

Franco grins mischievously. “I can’t promise that, but I can promise ice cream breaks whenever you need them.” He winks, and with that, I know tomorrow will be just as productive—and just as perfect.

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Logan as your teacher.

You're one of the senior students, experienced, sometimes going out on missions with them. His class is mostly about control. Learning to control your powers, your emotions, making sure you're as focused on the job as possible.

The last thing you're doing is focusing.

How the fuck are you supposed to focus on class when Logan's standing there? In his plaid shirt, jeans, those dangerous eyes flicking across the class and occasionally landing on you.

You're distracted, not listening to anything he says. You're just imagining him fucking you. Dragging you into his office and making you suck his cock if you want an A. Imagine him letting you kiss him all over, touch him, fuck him...

It's legal, you think to yourself. I'm twenty. It's legal...

Not like anything is gonna happen.

The class ends. You realize it because everyone stands up to leave and you're pulled back to reality. You hastily gather your stuff and start walking when Logan calls out your name. You turn to him.

“Stay for a while, we need to talk,” he tells you, crossing his arms as he leans back against his desk.

You sigh softly. You've been...barely passing his class. In fact, you're not even sure you're passing anymore. The weird thing is you don't care. As long as you get to see him, you really don't care if you have to repeat this class again and again and again.

You walk towards him, the last student that leaves closing the door after himself. You stand in front of him, backpack slung over one shoulder. “Yeah?”

-

Logan eyes you. He's trying his best to control himself. To be the adult here. You're just twenty. Just a kid.

And he sees how you look at him. He's been alive for two centuries. He knows what lust looks like, he knows when someone wants him. And you want him.

You want him bad.

He can smell your arousal as his eyes study your body. His cock twitches in his pants, alert, and he suppresses the need.

“Are you aware that you've got a C in my class?” he asks.

You blink. “Wh—Why? What?” you stutter. He can hear your heart beating faster. He's got you.

“Yeah. C, kid. C. You're not gonna pass my class with a C. The minimum is a B.”

You sigh, glancing down at the floor. “I'm...I'm sorry. I just...I guess I've been a little distracted lately.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “Is something goin' on, kid?”

“...no,” you murmur.

He hears the spike in your heartbeat. He knows you're lying.

“Kid,” he says in warning. “Look, it's okay. You can tell me.”

When you continue to avoid his gaze, he puts a hand under your chin and tilts your head up so you look at him. “Come on. What's wrong?”

You swallow thickly. He can see it in your eyes, you want to tell him. You're so close to tell him.

You shake your head again. “I—I'm sorry, I can't. You'd...you wouldn't understand.”

He sighs. “Kid, I know,” he says quietly. “I was asking you to give you the chance to tell me.”

Your eyes widen. You're confused. “Huh?”

“I know why you're distracted. You think I can't smell it? Think I can't feel it?”

You blush bright red, your eyes darting around the room as you look for a way out. “I...I...”

He cups your face, caresses your cheek with his thumb. “It's alright. I'm not mad. I'm disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” you echo, staring up at him with those gorgeous, innocent eyes.

“Disappointed you haven't done anything about it,” he says quietly and grins.

Your heart rate picks up, your eyes widen. He grins. “Logan—Professor Howlett, I...I'm sorry. I'm...”

“Kid, it's okay. It's fine. You think I'd call you out on it if I didn't want something to happen? Hm?”

You blink up at him and he smiles. “You know what? I'll help you pass the class. Meet me in my office at four, okay? Not a second later.” He pauses, a sly smirk forms on his lips. “Otherwise I'll have to give you extra credit assignments to make up for lost time. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes,” you reply nervously.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.” You blush a little. The way you say it is different from the way you usually call him sir. You're flirting with him and he's loving it.

“That's a good girl.”

-

I'M SO SORRY this was totally inspired on this teacher I have a crush on and I was like...what if Logan was your teacher??? So yeah 😭

Blog masterlist

[aestherin]

KEEP MY HEART

goal 30: something wrong

NOTES: this took longer than i thought 💀 anw it was more tamed than i imagined omg yay!! ^^

Scaramouche thought the car ride home was plenty suffocating, but nothing could compare to how heavy the air was once he got home with his mother.

An extensive home that is reasonably far from other neighboring houses, with a spacious lot surrounding the house itself. It could've been such a perfect home — if not for the two broken people living in it.

As his mother remained silent while the two of them exited the car, Scaramouche thought he had at least the whole night to prepare for his mother's outburst. Alas, they haven't even made it to the front door yet, and he had already started hearing something.

"Kunikuzushi."

He merely turned to her, not even saying a word.

"Just what happened?" Scaramouche could not get something from his mother's voice at all. She wasn't yelling — it would be out of character for her to do so anyway. But she obviously wasn't happy either. But at least it wasn't that cold, too?

At a loss for words, the young man forced himself to focus his gaze on one random thing, perhaps the grass peacefully lying on their front yard.

'I'll just have to let her say anything and everything she wants to say, and I'll say nothing. And then tomorrow, we'll just continue like nothing happened,' he thought.

And so he did, letting his mother's words pass through one ear to the other. 'How can you let yourself play like that', 'how can you allow people to see you like that', 'just what would they say about you now', 'this isn't what we trained for'... Nothing he wasn't used to. It was all alright. He can go through another sermon session just fine.

Until he was knocked out of his stupor by a certain statement from his mother.

"Perhaps I should've gotten between you and that companion of yours I saw in the freedom wall. I think she is distracting you, maybe you should stay away from her."

A sudden surge of rage came over him, prompting him to finally meet eyes with his own mother. Ei was slightly taken aback, not used to receiving such a hateful look from her one and only son.

"What?"

The woman could not utter a response, still in shock at the state her son is in. She was so used to him being so indifferent whenever they talk, making it seem as if her advices and sermons have no effect at the slightest.

Meanwhile, Scaramouche, at the lack of response from his mother, could not stop himself anymore.

Scaramouche felt like a balloon — thinned, worn out, and keeping too much inside.

Much more than he could handle.

And his mother's words that night felt like a sharpened needle.

"Why the fuck do I always have to do what you tell me?" He finally snapped.

"What?"

"Can't you see that I'm trying?! And yet you always see something!" Scaramouche gritted his teeth.

"You always see something to criticize! You always see something like a flaw! You always see something wrong!" He yelled, shortly followed by a bitter laugh. "Heck, maybe you even consider my birth to be something wrong."

A swift slap cut him off.

Somehow, the physical pain inflicted by his mother got him out of his continuous outbursts, replacing his seething anger with shock. No matter how cold and strict his mother was, she had never gotten physical with him.

Refusing to believe what just happened, a wondering Scaramouche looked back up to his mother's face — only to see her eyes dripping and her cheeks stained.

'Are those tears?'

'My mother... crying?'

"How could you say something like that Kunikuzushi?"

"How can you treat your life so lightly like that?" Ei sobbed. "Your birth wasn't something wrong — it was the most beautiful thing that happened to me."

The young man just stared at her, probably in disbelief.

"You are my son, a part of me, something even more important than myself —"

"— and that's why I never wish to see you hurt."

"Hah," Scaramouche scoffed. "Really?"

The man could not do anything but laugh ironically. She doesn't want to see him hurt, she says?

'I hate to break it to you mom, but you've been doing that for so long.'

How many lies would she feed him tonight?

"I don't want you to suddenly commit a mistake while playing, put yourself to shame, and be unnecessarily criticized and judged heavily." The purple-haired woman said. "And if that happens? Then what? You'll be so affected by all the backlash, and then you'll finally lose yourself?"

Scaramouche swore he never expected to see his mother cry so hard. In fact, crying was one of the things he thought his mother was incapable of doing. But what was she saying?

Where is she getting all this from?

"What?"

"I don't want anyone precious to me to ever experience that again."

"What the heck are you talking about, mom?"

It was a slip of the tongue, unconsciously going back to what he once used to call the woman in front of him. A slip of the tongue that he failed to catch, but did not go past his own mother, whose memories of the days when he used to call her 'mom' flashed by her eyes.

But before she could even explain herself, someone else made their presence known.

"Your mother had a sister, you see."

It was Yae.

His mother's old friend.

“Have you ever heard of Makoto?” The pink-haired lady asked. Scaramouche could not see the relevance of her question, but he decided to humor her nonetheless. “Who?”

“My twin sister.”

“You had a sister?!”

Scaramouche thought he knew a lot about his mother. But really, is he even qualified to say that he knew her if he knew nothing about her past before having him? Everything he knew about Ei were memories of them together. Her being a loving mother to him when he was little, her having Yae as her only friend, her suddenly changing her parental practices once he started his soccer career — all of them were memories of her after his existence.

Only now did he realize he never knew anything about his mother’s past.

Yae sighed. “How is he ever going to understand if you never told him about Makoto, Ei?”

“It’s too dark of a story. He might not be able to handle it.”

“And you think he can handle your coldness and strictness forever?”

“What, do you want me to discourage my son from his dreams of being a top soccer player by telling him that my twin sister fucked up on a game just once, got so many backlash and became the people’s punching bag, went depressed up to the point that she couldn’t handle it anymore and eventually lost herself?” Ei spat out. “I don’t want to scare him off from achieving his dreams, but I can’t also risk the possibility of him having the same experience as my sister.”

What the fuck?

Merely processing the things he was hearing already required so much from the young man. He could not bear to disturb the conversation between the two ladies, lest there are still some things he should hear.

“So you set high expectations for him?”

“It was the only way I thought of.”

“Have you ever considered the thought that you yourself may actually be ruining his dreams for him?”

“What?” Ei turned her gaze to Scaramouche for a moment, allowing her to once again notice the state that her son was in. Trembling hands clenched into fists, focused yet glossy eyes, and brows furrowed — she couldn’t tell if they were out of fury or confusion. Perhaps it was both.

“You are making your son hate that dream of his that you sought to protect with the way you are treating him, Ei.” Yae walked towards the young man and lightly tapped his shoulder. “What this kid wants is to have fun playing, not play under constant expectations and strictness from his mother.”

Scaramouche looked up at her, who only smiled at him in return. “Isn’t that right, Kunikuzushi?”

He turned his face away from her and immediately swatted her hand from his shoulder. “What would you know about what I want?”

“Oh? But was I wrong?” She grinned. “No response? I must’ve been right then.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re just salty I’m right.”

“I am not?” The guy scowled. “Stop making things up you annoying hag —“

“Uh, excuse me?! What hag?!”

A certain purple-haired woman remained all throughout the banter between her son and her friend. When was the last time her son spoke to her without reservations like that? No, when was the last time they even had a proper conversation, one where he isn’t replying with words not even amounting to a handful?

“Ei, I want to ask you something.” A voice brought her out of her trance. “How do the other players on your team look whenever they practice and play?”

“Tired.” Ei described exactly how the boys on the team looked whenever they were on the field. Their whole beings drenched in sweat, their limbs trembling, their breaths hurried.

But despite everything, she remembered that they were having fun.

“But were they having fun?”

“They were.”

“And how does your own son look whenever he’s on the field?”

For the first time that night, absolute silence reigned over their abode’s front yard.

“See?” The pink-haired woman smiled. “Don’t you want Kunikuzushi to have the same experience as everybody else on your team?”

For the first time, Scaramouche heard the two words he thought he would never ever hear coming out from his mother’s mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

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[mommybard]

You know how in some lewd stories they have those pills that can change or corrupt people? I need those to become real because I’m stuck with a thought that I just can’t get out of my head.

Getting just the cutest little thing as a roommate. Befriending them. Gaining their trust. Hanging out with them. And then…well, slipping some of those into their food and drink. Not enough to give them an overnight change, where’s the fun in that? No, just enough for small changes here and there that their mind will rationalize away until it's too late~

Increased libido? That’s not too hard to explain away, some people's sex drives tend to ramp up or slow down for various reasons. So it’s not too hard for them to accept when they find themselves masturbating as the first thing when they wake up and the last thing before going to bed. Granted, they’re suddenly wanting more but…well, that could just be anything. Definitely not caused by the cookies I made them~

The changes to their body? Well that's easy enough at first. Sometimes people gain a bit of weight, or clothes shrink in the wash. That has to be the reason those jeans seem to be clinging a bit more, hugging their hips, barely able to get up over their ass. And they have been going to the gym…maybe its just finally seeing the results of the work out? As for their chest…well its just more sensitive it all. Could really be anything. Probably not that fresh horchata I made them~

The changes keep coming. Any rational person would've probably scheduled a check up to find the cause. And they meant to do that, honestly! Its just…their focus has been preoccupied recently. It started off with just finding themselves occasionally day dreaming about lewd things. Being forced to their knees and made to worship a domme. What it would be like if their friends lost all respect for them as a person and started to use them like a free use toy. How good it would feel to not have to think but instead just be the bestest little pet, spending their day under the desk of someone who does the thinking and worrying for them as they fill their day with loyal service to that person. 

But its been taking up more of their brainpower. The last few times when they meant to make the call they got distracted when they opened their phone and saw the smutty story they had been touching themselves to earlier…and, well…spend the next few hours playing with themselves. Similar thing happened when they tried to do it on the computer. They meant to type in the website! But as they started it auto suggested a porn site and…gods way they would give to get fucked like that. 

Poor thing being forced to wear less and less as they run out of clothes that genuinely fit anymore. Thinking they're being subtle about how drooly they'll get mid conversation. That the walls are thick enough that I can't hear them desperately fucking their holes raw on toys they rushed to order. 

Until I give them the final pill. One that pushes them into a deep heat. Full strength, not the careful doses I used with the other drugs. Watching them drink it down without even realizing, laughing to myself when they rush to their bedroom to “study”. Letting them go for a few hours, long enough for them to realize that need deep inside them isn't getting satisfied with their fingers or toys. They need something more. Something real. 

And of course, like the good friend I am, I offer to help them out. Wouldn't want them to try to rush out in their state. There are so many evil people out there who might take advantage of them and their trust! I wouldn't want that now, would I~?

[lizziesribbons]

Quiet |

PAIRING: MOMMY! WANDA MAXIMOFF X FEM! READER

Summary: Wanting attention from Wanda on a day off, you find yourself on her lap, her fingers buried deep inside you as she attends her online meeting.

Warnings: Smut 18+ men and minors dni!!!! Degradation, but aftercare at the end: omg, fingering, slight choking if you squint, pet names (baby, bunny, princess)

Author's note: just reminding you guys that my first language is not English, so if there are any grammatical errors, PLEASE IGNORE THEM AND MOVE TF ON. Also, I'm pretty fucking awkward when I'm writing.

Wc: 1.5k

_______________________________________________________________________________

It was a Sunday. You woke up from your afternoon nap hoping you would find your girlfriend right next to you with her legs tangled in yours, but that wasn't the case. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you looked for her, calling out her name. You looked around, not getting an answer, so you stood up from your bed and went outside your shared bedroom. "Wandaaaaaaa," you shouted. "In here, darling," you heard her say. The voice was coming from her home office, so you made your way over there and knocked. You knew better than to just barge into your girlfriend's office. Wanda was anything but soft regarding this; she has told you many times not to disturb her while she's working in her home office, as she said something like, "You're a big distraction; I can't focus when you're around," so you respected her privacy.Wanda called you in, and you went inside, seeing her sitting in her work chair. Her laptop was open, but you didn't bother to see what she was doing. She was wearing a white, almost see-through shirt with no bra that made you throb between your legs. "Yes, detka?" You made your way over and sat on her lap, not giving her time to object. "What are you doing, mama?"

Wanda smiled, giving you the tiny bit of attention you desperately craved. She rubbed your back softly as you lean more in. "Just some work, bunny. I've got a Zoom meeting with my boss in 5 minutes," she said as she rubbed soothing circles down your back.You made a quick "ohhh" face and said, "Mommy, can I kiss you?" She stops you from leaning in too close. "Just a peck, sweetheart. I don't want my lipstick all smugged in my face, okay?" You nod as you lean in closer, holding her face and kissing her. Not being able to stop, you start to kiss her deeper as Wanda holds you by your neck and yanks you away. "I told you, just a peck! Look, my lipstick is ruined now, bunny," she said, looking at you with a smile. "Sorry, m' mmy, I couldn't help  myself." You mumble as you blush in embarrassment. Wanda's facial expressions change suddenly into something darker, her smile converting into a smirk as she looks at you as her innocent doll.

"Is my baby needy for mommy's attention? All icky down there need mommy's help." She talks to you like a person would to their dog or any pet. "Please." You whine, not understanding why she's teasing you. All of a sudden, "No baby, I have my meeting in less than a minute." She shifts and makes you face the other way, so your back is facing her. "But you will not be going anywhere because I don't trust you in this state. You're a desperate slut, and you will go against mommy's orders and touch yourself, so just stay quiet and sit still in my lap." You nod while whining as you adjust yourself in her lap.

Wanda started the meeting, the first 10 minutes were okay you were sitting comfortably in her lap until suddenly her hands starts roaming around, you look back at her to see what she's up to but you were only met with a straight face as she paid no mind to you at all, her hands reached the waistband of the underwear you were wearing as she takes them down you let out a quiet moan as soon as the air touch your clit, Wanda muted the call all of a sudden and softly whispered in your ear "be quiet" as she continue on like nothing happened, her index and middle fingers starts to rub your clit as you throw your head back over her shoulder arching your back to lean your hips more into her giving her more access as she rubs harder, she wents on talking to her boss about work like she's literally not making you a desperate mess over here on her lap Her fingers find their way to your entrance, and she puts two of them in as you try your best to not make a sound, but as she starts rubbing your clit while pumping her fingers in, you can't help but whimper, which makes Wanda hold your neck and put a little pressure on you as she whispered in your ear,

"Shhhh, shut up. You don't want mommy's boss hearing how much of a slut you are now, do you?" You shake your head as you try your best not to moan. Her hand leaves your neck and goes under your shirt, tugging and rolling your nipple harshly as you arch your back, letting out a soft moan. Wanda is quick to remove her fingers from your pussy, and before you can whine, she puts them in your mouth to shut you up and whispers in your ear, "You fucking slut, you can't keep quiet for a minute." "Miss Maximoff, is everything alright?" Wanda heard her boss say, "Yeah, no, I actually have something to do. I'm so sorry. Can we move this meeting? I'll meet you tomorrow at the office if that's alright." With that, they say their greetings, and Wanda shuts her laptop off, her fingers still in your mouth, making you suck on them greedily.

"Fuck bunny, you are so hot for mommy, like a bitch in heat. I bet you want to be fucked so bad, don't you, baby?" She asked with faux innocence as you desperately nodded, blabbering something around her fingers, which Wanda only just laughed at. "You're so needy; it's pathetic; really, I feel sorry for you." Wanda watched you with amusement as you tried your best not to just hump the desk infront. Suddenly, two of her fingers entered you and immediately started Thursting inside, adding another finger, she kept hitting your weakest spot. Three of her fingers in your pussy and two of them in your mouth were turning her on so much as she let out a deep moan, "You love this, don't you? Ugh, I know you do bunny, you love getting filled by mommy in both your holes." She takes her fingers out and chokes you, making you arch your back as you were trapped between the desk and her as she fingers you at an animalistic pace.

“Mommy’s going to make this pretty pussy soak my lap. Yeah? You like that idea, bunny?" you could only just moan louder as she thrusts harder she cursed to herself at how hot you looked in this position all spread out on her lap as she fucks you, taking your top off in one swift motion she squeeze your breast roughly taking her time with both your breasts "are you gonna cum for mommy" she seductively whisper in your ear "ye s y yes let me come mommy please please" you somehow let out a full sentence between screams and moans "come for mommy come all over her lap like the dirty slut you are" as soon as that sentence left her mouth your whole body went numb against her as you reached your climax she carefully fucked you through your aftershocks as she slowly takes her fingers out loving the sight of them glistening with your juices "suck them clean" she said putting them on your mouth the green in her eyes fully gone converted into something dark she turns you around and carefully put you on the desk "no mommy I'm too tired please" she holds your thighs down as you try to back her off "just trust mommy okay I'm just gonna clean you up" she carefully laps at your pussy licking it clean moaning at your taste "fuck detka you taste so fucking good" she said as she kissed you and stood up "let's go have our nap which I rudely interrupted okay?" You happily but weakly nodded as she carried you with her to the bedroom, laying you down on the bed.

"You want water," Wanda asks, holding a glass of water. "No, just want mommy, please," you say as you did grabby hands. Wanda understood and laid down beside you, cuddling herself into you. "My perfect little bunny, I love you so much, baby. Mommy loves you the most," she says as she hears your light snores, which lull her to sleep.

[topazadine]

Okay, okay, here's perhaps my spiciest and most controversial take yet.

Now, before I even say anything, please note that I am talking specifically about fantasy. Not retellings of myths, not historical fiction set in different countries, nothing like that. This is for second-world fantasy, where you're creating a whole different world.

Ready?

Stop making everything so damn complicated!

This is not to say that you can't have a rich and exciting world filled with lore, religion, different societies, traditions, unique geographies. Not that. Of course we want that: it's the whole reason we read fantasy. I'm talking about something else.

This is my simple takedown, and you can read the rest to better understand what I mean:

Stop jamming your story with five billion weird words.

Don't use super complicated nouns.

Keep the characters to a minimum so we can know and like them.

Don't yammer on about all the backstory.

Stop making readers do homework just to understand things.

Focus on the feeling a story gives instead of the intricate worldbuilding.

And lastly, a pre-emptive note to those who are putting their hackles up and telling me why they are an exception.

Why is it important to keep things simple?

A lot of people shy away from fantasy because they assume that every fantasy story is going to be so complicated that their head will hurt. Not in terms of plot - many people like complicated plots - but in terms of terminology and history. Things that ultimately don't really matter to the plot.

We as writers often assume that everyone cares about our story as much as we do and is equally captivated by every detail. This is simply not true.

To your reader, your story is not their life's work: it is entertainment that they want to be able to enjoy at their leisure. It's a distraction from their difficult lives and all their real-world frustrations. If they get really into it and, say, write fanfic or whatever, that's amazing! But they're not likely to do that if they feel like they'll be jumped on for doing something wrong or that they have to include every single little detail.

For example, I wrote over 1 million words of Touken Ranbu fanfic. Touken Ranbu, at its heart, has a very simple premise: you've got a bunch of legendary swords that were turned into hot men and fight evil time-traveling monsters. You can understand it with just that. There are layers to it, though, that you can slowly untangle. That makes for good writing because it works on multiple levels depending on how much you care about it.

I would have given up on the story if I felt like I needed a dictionary just to understand the plot. Most people would. Language needs to be accessible and premises need to be clear, or no one is going to want to go deeper.

Subtle little details that people can pick up are way more enjoyable than tossing every single factoid at people so that they feel overwhelmed and can't think. It's wonderful to have rich layers of symbolism, mythology, etc. That's excellent. But you can only get people to care about those things if they can actually comprehend your damn story.

A lot of the things that turn people off from fantasy are all about a writer's ego, and it oozes through the work. People can tell that you're wanting them to pat you on the back for putting so much shit in your story. It's annoying and a total turn-off when you make readers work so hard to comprehend what you're saying.

So what exactly am I talking about? This.

Using made-up terms for everything that could easily be explained with a normal English word

When I am writing fantasy, I imagine myself as a translator. After all, my made-up societies have their own made-up language (Seinish) that is referenced a few times.

However, I'm not using Seinish words all the time. I'm writing in English. I didn't write out a Seinish dictionary or even come up with most of the terms because, honestly? Most readers don't care. They want to understand what's going on in as simple of terms as possible, with only a few specific terms that remind us that we're somewhere different.

I may use some specialized terminology, but it's always couched in context clues that make us aware of what it is without actually having to just say "sdlkjfslkdjf, also known as a marketplace."

For example, in The Eirenic Verses, the High Poet Society has religious centers called meronyms. (Which actually isn't a made-up word.) We know they're religious centers because we see all the religious leaders living there. Someone sees the term "meronym" and goes "oh yeah, that's the religious place" and moves on.

It's one of the only confusing, specialized terms in the book other than place names, which people expect whenever they're reading fantasy. Because of that, it stands out and is easy to remember. It's not one of 1029310283012830132 different terms someone has to remember in order to follow along.

Even Tolkien, famed for literally writing an entire extra book full of lore for his stories, doesn't really use that much specialized terminology except for place names. My favorite author, China Mieville, only uses specialized terminology for things that have absolutely no basis in our reality and that can't be explained otherwise. And he's an extremely eloquent guy who uses the weirdest words possible whenever he can. If he can write a book that's mostly comprehensible without a cheat sheet, you can too.

If there is an English term for what you are trying to explain, just use that, for the love of god. The point of writing a story is not to show how smart and special you are: it is to tell a story. You need to remove as many barriers to access as possible.

Things that get a pass and can be made up most, if not all, of the time:

Place names (as in specific places, not categories of things)

Peoples' names

Languages

Species that don't exist in our world

Modes of transportation that don't exist in our world

Magic that can't be explained in any other way

Technology that can't be defined by our language

Look, if you have an animal that is basically a dragon, just call it a dragon. If you've got a wheeled carriage, call it a carriage. Call earth magic something based in earth terms, like "terravitae" or something, idk. There should be some connection to our world in your terminology because you are writing this in English for an English-speaking audience.

It doesn't make you a lazy writer, it makes you one that wants people to understand what you're talking about. Again, imagining yourself as a translator is a good way to keep yourself from going ham on the nouns.

Proper nouns that are way too complicated

Let's look at some well-known proper nouns from fantasy.

Middle Earth

Narnia

Earthsea

Discworld

Westeros

Ankh-Morpork

Bas-Lag

Wonderland

They're all ... simple. They're not a million syllables with weird intonations and accents and all that. If you showed this to a medieval peasant, they'd probably be able to pronounce them and would likely understand that they were place names.

Unless there's a good reason to have a weird name, don't use one. Come up with something simpler.

All of these I mentioned are three syllables or less, making them easier to remember. In fact, I'd argue that nearly every proper noun in your book should be no more than three syllables. Maybe one or two four-syllable ones.

Any very weird name should be balanced out by several easier ones so that it stands out.

40 million characters

Younger writers often want their world to feel very lived in, so they introduce dozens of characters with their own names, descriptions, backstories, etc etc etc. The problem is that this is a huge mental load on your reader, especially if a lot of the characters have very similar names. It makes reading your stuff into a chore rather than an enjoyable experience.

Now, some literary greats do have a lot of characters. But they get away with it because they're great.

I'm not great, so I don't do that.

I'd also suggest that you don't do that, regardless of how good you think you are.

To see if you have too many chracters, write out a dramatis personnae and rank it in terms of importance. Does your top tier have like 15 characters? Cut some. Figure out where they are in the story and if they don't exist for more than a few pages, delete them. Absorb them into someone else.

If a character is only in one scene, don't bother naming them. They don't matter enough. This reduces the cognitive load for your reader because they can see that character for what they are: a background person who exists only briefly.

Any time you name a character, they need to have deep plot relevance. The more unusual your character's name, the more important they should be. And they should have some sort of relationship to another character, preferably the main character. Otherwise, why are they there? Why do we care? Go away!

Way too much backstory

I am an adult and my brain is filled with 50 million other things. I have to remember stuff for my job, I have a to-do list, I have family I care about who needs me.

Your story is not the end-all be-all of my existence. Hell, my story is not the end-all be-all of my existence either. I want to be able to pick up your book, understand what's going on, and then delve a bit deeper or even make up my own headcanons.

I do not need the entirety of your story's world thrown at me right off the bat. It is overwhelming and tiring. Imagine if you visited a different country and someone immediately came up to you and started spewing the whole history of the country right after you stepped off the plane. That's what you're doing to your readers!

Think also about how you approach your everyday world. Do you reel off a million facts about your personal history the instant you meet someone? No, of course not. It'd be weird and creepy.

Are you constantly recalling facts about your city while walking down the street? Do you even know any major facts about your city? You probably know a few little trivia points and that's it. Because it's not relevant to you, and it's not relevant to your readers, either. I can't recall off the top of my head when Cleveland was settled, but I can tell you that we have the world's first Dunkleosteus fossil in our museum, because that is interesting to me. That's the kind of thing that makes a place feel lived-in, not four hundred thousand pages of exposition about the place's history.

Give your readers time to settle in, and reveal things slowly as they make sense. Maybe we hear a little bit about the country's government as they pass a parliament house, or because they have to visit the city center for a different reason. If it's not pertinent to the current scene, then don't put it there.

I've got tons of lore for my world. Some of it may be referenced one singular time, and some of it may be never referenced at all. That's okay, because it's just for me to get a better sense of the place I created. If a reader doesn't need it, then I don't bother putting it in, because it might detract from their enjoyment.

Overall: stop making your readers do homework!

We do not want our readers to feel like they are working when they are reading our stuff. Excellent writers can infuse deep themes and symbology into their stories without making it feel like work. These are the writers who are remembered forever, because not only have they made a good story that you can enjoy at a surface level, but they have also twined in deeper themes that you can dive into after you've digested the story.

I did my undergrad in British literature, so I read a lot of Shakespeare and contemporaneous authors. Shakespeare is considered complicated by modern standards because of the Elizabethan language, but if you translated it into modern terms, his stories are simple. People betray each other and stab each other, or fuck each other, or get transported to weird magical worlds.

You could watch a Shakespeare play and think absolutely nothing of the themes, but still enjoy the story. You could know absolutely nothing about Greek history and still get the gist.

This is because Shakespeare specifically wrote his plays to appeal to a mass audience. He was a god-tier author when it came to balancing symbology and plot. To be like Shakespeare, be simple. Remember that your reader does. not. really. care. all that much. They don't.

It's very unlikely that your writing is going to become someone's life's work and they're going to spend their whole existence studying. Cool if true, but unlikely.

Your job is to make a story that people like and want to read. Only when you've gotten people liking and reading do you get permission to go ham with the backstory and the characterization and the weird names, because they trust you to create a story that they will like. Otherwise, your primary objective is making people feel things so they want to feel more things and read more stories.

People care more about how a story makes them feel than the specifics

Yes, of course there are outliers to this who really want every single detail of the world, but those are few and far between. You should not tailor your story to these exceptions. Think about the average everyday person.

I have many books that I love, but I can't tell you everything about them now. I can, however, tell you how I felt when I was reading them: the plot twists that made me gasp, the thing that made me cry. I can give you a general, sweeping impression of whether I liked or disliked the story and what made me feel something. This is what people recommend books based on: how they felt.

Your story should focus on the plot and the emotion. People watch movies, listen to music, read books, or look at art to feel something, not to memorize factoids for later usage. Even if they do want to memorize factoids, they won't do that if they haven't built an emotional connection to the story.

While in life, we want facts over feelings, it's opposite in creative writing. We want feelings over facts. The emotional resonance, the mood, the characters, the plot: that is what is important, not showing off how smart you are and how much you have thought about your story.

"But Topazadine, I am special and different! I'm not going to follow your advice."

Sure. Go ahead. I can't stop you. If you want to have a million characters and an entire dictionary to explain everything, that is your choice.

No one can tell you how to write; my advice is just advice.

If you don't like what I have said here, then feel free to ignore it. You don't need to justify it to me or anyone else.

However, you must recognize that this may not resonate with readers. It will turn people off.

I'm not a completionist, and neither are many others; they'll roll their eyes and click out when they are faced with ten pages of character names upfront.

Of course you should always write for yourself first, but if you are planning to write fiction for any level of commercial appeal and you intend to make any amount of money on your work, then audience does matter. If you want kudos or comments on your AU, audience matters. You won't get engagement if you are alienating people.

Your writing decisions are always your own and no one can demand you do something different. You just need to decide whether your personal satisfaction in writing your story in a certain way outweighs your desire for validation, and, perhaps, money. I can't tell you the answer for that; it's up to you.

If you enjoyed this, maybe you'll consider reading my fantasy book, 9 Years Yearning, which does not have 121238103 characters and 3230123 strange words. It does, however, have double-tsundere-mutual-pining-gay-boy-awakening. And horses. It's also just $3.

[thewritergx]

Math Problems Pope Hayward x F!Reader

Summary: Pope and y/n have been studying for a test. They decide to take a break in the library. Warnings: Pure Smut, PinV, fingering, oral (f!receiving), pet names (sweet girl, baby), Lots of L-bombs. 

Word Count: 2K

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me

The library was one room with gray brick walls, and stone columns supporting the ceilings. Lining the room in straight rows were multiple shelves, packed to the brim with various books. Pope and I sat at a quiet table in the back, only a few other locals appeared to grab a book and then head back to their circle of friends. Sounds of low whispers and scratching pencils echo around the room. It was a bit cramped but comfy in a ‘grandma’s house’ type of way. Pope sat in front of me, his face bawled up to focus on the paper in front of him. He mumbled something about the math problem we were working on. I wish I understood but math was my biggest enemy. I was grateful Pope agreed to help me out, or else this GED was out the window. Pope wore a dark flannel, the first few buttons undone to expose his collarbone and a bit of his chest. I tried to focus on her homework, but the way Pope leaned in to whisper about the research was making my heart beat riot. Pope yawned, stretching his arms and neck. “What’s wrong, you seem tense?” Pope asked. “I just can't figure this problem out. I think I need a break.” I revised. Pope dropped his shoulder slightly at my words. He thought he had explained the problem well. Pope could tell I was distracted, but could not place what it was on. “We’ve only been here thirty minutes. Let me try to show you one more time. If that doesn't work, we’ll go.” He whispered, his voice thick and low. I nodded and gave him a small smile. One thing I loved about him was his patience. Pope grabbed his chair and moved it close to me, our legs grazing against each other delicately. As Pope explained the problem, he placed a hand on my thigh. It startled me but I tried to play it cool even if it sent my body into hyperdrive. Pope wrote on the paper explaining the problem in great detail. All I heard was “multiplication blah blah blah”. Every time he spoke a pulse of vibrations fluttered around my head. His breath was minty and hot. It was making me crazy. What made me even crazier is that Pope didn't seem to notice at all. We had been spending a lot of time together lately and it was starting to get to my head. I couldn't tell if he liked me the same way. Maybe he was too shy to tell me or maybe the thought of being with me disgusted him. Anxiety filled my thoughts, but I focused on pushing them way. I nodded my head, pretending to listen. “Okay, that helped a little”, I lied. Pope leaned back some in his chair, laughing teasingly. “You didn't get it all, did you?” Pope met my eyes, finally looking up from the stupid paper and rubbing small circles on my thigh with his thumbs. “What's got you so quiet today? Something wrong?” Pope leaned in closer, trying not to make the conversation loud enough for anyone else to hear. I felt heat rise in my cheeks. Was he doing this on purpose? I stuttered, trying to think of anything to say.

Pope refused to break eye contact. It was obvious now that he noticed how flustered I was. He paid close attention to the slight stutter in my voice and my flushed cheeks. They were all the proof Pope needed to know that his game was working. Pope became more confident, wanting to test the waters as much as I’d let him. Pope moved his head up my thigh further, grinning. I watched as his hand moved, my breathing picking up pace. I sunk into my chair, unable to move away from his touch. It was exhilarating. Pope watched the way I reacted. He searched for any hint of regret. He clearly found none. His hand reached a comfortable place, his fingers grazing against my core. I cursed but also weirdly praised myself for wearing a skirt today. Pope scooted his chair even further, practically leaning on me now. His body was warm and strong against me. “P-Pope…There are people around”. I fought to speak, my voice strained and quiet. Pope took a quick look around the room. He smiled, not a hint of nervousness in his face. “Don't worry, no one can even see us behind the shelves”. Pope dragged his fingers up and down creating a little motion against my slit. “I love this skirt by the way.” He looked down, watching his fingers move slowly. Pope dragged my panties to the side, fighting to keep them away from my core. His finger began to rub light circles on my clit. His motions were smooth, and I fought to stay quiet. Moans threatened to spill out with every second that passed. I placed my hand around his forearm, in an attempt to keep his movements at a manageable pace. I never expected Pope to be so confident. JJ or John B maybe, but Pope? He was so put together, so wholesome. I wondered why he chose now to act on anything when we had been alone with each other so many times these past few weeks. Pope moved his fingers a bit faster, my clit swelling under his touch. It wasn't enough to satisfy the urge he was building. Just enough to keep me wanting more and more. “You have been driving me crazy for days, you know,” Pope breathed against my neck. He placed a light kiss under my ear. His lips were soft and delicate. He stayed quiet. The motions of his fingers slowly down to a stop and move down further to my entrance. Pope looked me in my eyes, slowly dipping his index finger inside me. I sucked Ina big breath of air, my mouth falling open. I prayed and no one stumbled over and Pope dragged his finger back and forth. His fingers were, rhythmic strumming me like a guitar. Pope groaned a quiet ‘so tight’ under his breath. “Pope, please. I-” I was cut off my Pope, adding another finger inside me, curving them to hit my most sensitive spots. I felt my legs begin to shake and my grip on his forearm tighten. “Come on, sweety. I'll take you to that bathroom right after you cum on my fingers.” Pope mumbled against my neck. His words sent a shiver down my spine. I swear I was under his spell, willing to do whatever he asked at this moment. I shook my head, focusing on the pleasure of each stroke of his finger. I felt a band in me stretching, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“Need u-um a little f-faster,” I moaned. Pope was quick to give me what I wanted, quickening his pace. In the quiet of the library, I prayed other people couldn't hear the sticky sounds of his fingers against my wet pussy. It was getting harder and harder to stay quiet and I had to place a hand over my mouth. Pope laughed a bit, pulling my hand down and placing a kiss on my lips. He muffled my moans and I for the band finally broke. Sick hot wetness pooled at his fingers and I tried not to throw my head back. Pope stilled his motions, staying like a statue inside me as he deepened the kiss. 

After a few moments, he slowly pulled his fingers out, gleaming with my cum. Pope pulled my panties back to their original position and stood me up from the chair. We walked as normally as possible through the locals and into a small single-person bathroom. I locked the door quickly, watching as Pope stood up in front of me. His body was tense, eyes screaming for me. “I love you, sweet girl. Let me show you how much I love you” and tugged me into a passionate kiss. He tasted like a sunset, warm and sweet. His tongue dipped into me, moving with a direct mission. Pope pulled up my legs, wrapping him tight around his waist and placing my ass on the sink. He positioned me perfect, removing my skirt and panties quick. I watched as Pope leaned down, placing a light kiss on my clit and sucking a bit. He flicked his tongue against my button. It felt like heaven as I gripped onto his hair. He devoured me fora while, only stopping his actions to take a few breaths every once in a while. “Taste so good,” Pope groaned as he stood back up, gently unzipping his khaki pants and pulling down around his thighs. I couldn't pull my eyes from his bulge. He looked big even half hard and covered by his boxers. I watched as he pulled out his cock. Pope spit on his hand, dragging it up and down his shaft. With every stroke, he grew harder and bigger. “Gonna let me make love to you baby?” He asked, pulling me so my entrance lined up with the head of his cock. I nodded in response, watching as he rubbed the tip up and down my slit. He was gentle and so warm. “Please Pope, need you,” I moaned. He looked down where our bodies met and slowly pressed into my entrance. He grabbed my wit hard, letting out a low groan. I gripped the side of the sink hard, my knuckles turning white. “Oh shit, love you Pope. Love you much,” I moaned as he pushed inside further. His cock was making me drunk already. Pope pulled me into another kiss, his dick hitting the perfect spot. “Love you too sweet girl. Feel so good,” He groaned, finally bottoming out. He kept his thrust slow and steady, sending wave after wave of pleasure through me. I wrapped my legs tight around him, bringing him deeper inside me. His thrust picked up speed, hitting me with the perfect amount of force. “Gonna cum, Pope,” I struggled to get out. “Go ahead, baby. I’m right with you.” Pope moaned, his thrust sloppy and wet. I felt my legs shake and I let out a high-pitched moan. I threw my head back, pleasure rushing through me wave after wave. “That’s it, cum around me, baby. I love you so much. Gonna make you mine forever,” Pope moaned, riding my high out for as long as he could. He groaned a string of curses, quickening his hips. I felt a warm sensation fill me up. He finally slowed down, pulling out of me with a light hiss. He placed a kiss on my lips, pulling me off the sink and into a hug. I quickly dressed again, fixed my hair in the mirror, and walked back to our table. 

[cemetery-sunset]

My Love - Carlisle Cullen x GN!Reader

A/N: i do not feel comfortable writing SH, so this is just what happens afterward :)

Summary: Depressed!reader relapsed into self harming. Having nobody else to turn to, they go to the Cullen house and Carlisle is the only one home. Being the amazing doctor he is, he takes good care of them. 

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: swan!reader (no pronouns used), self harm, self hatred, depression, sh relapse, crying, panic attacks, angst (obviously),  hurt comfort

divider from: @saradika-graphics

I walked out of my room, going next door to the only bathroom in the house. Charlie’s at work and Bella is out somewhere with Edward, or maybe Jake? I can’t remember honestly. Wanting to witness just how bad I looked, I turned to the mirror. In the mirror was not me, from what I could see through my blurry eyes, it was a red-faced idiot.�� I hate seeing myself like this. I couldn’t look at myself any longer, I turned on the faucet and grabbed a washcloth, running it under the cool water. I tried to slow my breathing, taking a deep breath as I brought the washcloth to my face, but it came out shaky. 

After a few minutes of trying to make myself look most presentable, I decided I can't be alone right now. I need to talk to someone, not even about the problems I have going on right now. I just need a distraction and something else to focus on, instead of being disappointed in myself for doing this. 

In a slight haze, I didn't even realize where I was going until I pulled into the driveway. I looked out the window to see the large, fancy house in the middle of the woods. I didn't call or message anyone ahead of time, I wasn't thinking clearly enough for that. But the Cullens wouldn't mind. Sure, I was human but having Bella as my sister automatically made me close with the family; they’re my friends as well as hers. I glanced one last time at myself in the rearview mirror, making sure I didn't look too wrecked, before getting out of the car and walking to the door. 

I took a deep breath before knocking. Before I could touch the door, it swung open to reveal the head of the household. 

As soon as I saw his expression, I knew there was no hiding anything. Being human, Carlisle could smell my distinct scent before he even opened the door, but I knew he could smell my blood too. Or more specifically the fresh cuts along my arms. 

“Carlisle… I-” My voice barely a whisper, my eyes were already starting to water again as I tried to speak, and my hands were playing with the cuff of my long sleeves. 

“Are you alright?” The blonde questioned me, even though he already knew the answer. When I tried to speak up again, the tears just started flowing again. I couldn't stop them. Without anymore words, Carlisle gently pulled me into a hug. It wasn't warm or bone-crushing, it was soft, comforting and familiar. My hands balled into fists on the back of his sweater, and the front of his shirt was growing damp with my tears. One of his cold hands were lightly rubbing my back, trying to comfort me. All while I could hear him whispering that it was all okay because he was here now. 

Without letting me go, Carlisle pulled me closer, with one had slipping into my hair, he moved us into the house and shut the door. His comforting voice was quiet and soft became like white noise. My head wouldn't shut up! Thoughts racing with all the anxiety and self hatred I've been feeling. 

“Shh, shh, shh… it’s alright, darling. I’m here. You’re okay, love…” Normally his nicknames for me would turn my insides to mush and make my knees weak; in the current situation, I didn't even realize he called me such sweet things, I couldn't even hear him. It was getting harder to breathe, my lungs struggling to even gasp through the tears as yet another panic attack racked through my body. Even as I held onto Carlisle as tight as was humanly possible, I couldn't stop trembling. 

When he realized I couldn't hear him, he pulled back from the hug. My arms on his sides, trying to stay on him for any small amount of grounding, and his cold hands moved to my face, holding it gently. He tipped up my head, forcing me to look him in the eyes. 

“Breathe with me… come on:” Speaking gently, his slight english accent more prominent as he was focusing on my state. 

“In… and out… in… and out…” He pretended to breathe with me, dramatically raising and dropping his shoulders, until I gained enough breathe to not be gasping and struggling. Using his thumbs, he wiped away the falling tears from my cheeks. 

With the feeling of his icy hands on my face, soft sweater beneath my palms and quiet voice in my ears, I started to calm down. My breath came back to almost normal, my crying slowed down to only a few tears and I was shaking a lot less than before. 

Carlisle wouldn’t move until he had calmed me down at least mostly. When he saw the progress we had made, he pulled me into another hug. I buried my face in his chest, once again all but clawing at his back. I was so embarrassed that he had to see me in this state; this isn't his problem, it's mine. He shouldn't have to deal with this. I mumbled apologies into his now damp shirt. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” He questioned, yet made no movement to push me away, he wanted me to move at my own speed. I pushed my forehead against his chest, so my mouth was free to speak without being muffled anymore. 

“...I said… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Carlisle. I didn't mean to come hear and annoy you. I'm sure you're super busy and I just had nowhere else to go. And I just-” Carlisle once again cupped my face in his hands, only moving it so I could look up into his golden eyes. 

“Don’t apologize. Please don't apologize, my love. You have nothing to worry about.” He reassured me. I knew he meant it but that bad part of my brain was convinced he was lying. 

“...May I see?” He questioned, worried to overstep a boundary but the doctor in him was too overwhelmed with the need to help me. I didn't want to show him. He shouldn't have to deal with this, I can clean myself up. I can take care of myself… I always have…

After shifting my gaze to our feet, I slowly nodded. His hands moved to one of my forearms; one holding my arm gently and the other rolling up my sleeve. I couldn’t look at them. Instead, I was focusing on the wall to our side. The window, the trees outside, the doorway to the kitchen. Anything but my arm as I could feel a light finger proding near the open cuts. 

“Come on, darling. Let’s go to my office.” He moves his hand to hold mine as I followed him to the office. He sits me down on his desk and walks away to gather the necessary supplies. I didn't even want him to move away that far. 

The tears start to silently flow again when he brings a little bowl with bandages in it over and slowly moves to pull up my sleeves again. I look down in shame but when I see the red on my arms, the tears flow a little harder and instead I try to focus on the trees outside. It's easy with windows that big. 

It’s too quiet as he starts to clean my arms. Too quiet when I wince at the sting of the wet gauz meeting the fresh cuts. Justs too quiet as my brain starts to overthink again. 

“I’m sorry, Carlisle…” I say to the tree out the window, my voice a little shaky. 

“Darling… look at me.” He stops tending to my wounds to focus on my face. I slowly look at his; still ashamed of what I did and this whole situation. Eventually, I met his gaze. 

“You do not need to be sorry, my love. I’m glad you came to me; that I am the one taking care of you. You never need to apologize to me, you know I am happy to take care of you… you know I'm here for you, sweetheart.” My tears slowed only because my body was running out of tears to cry; yet a huge sadness grew in me. Even more than what was there before. I know he doesn't feel the same about me, but hearing him say those things -- the bad part of my brain interpreted them as a paternal taking-care-of. My mind was too clouded to see how wrong I actually was…

When everything went quiet again, he looked back down and continued working on my arms. I couldn’t bring myself to respond; I had nothing to say. I couldn’t tell him why I relapsed, or else I would send myself into another spiral. I couldn’t tell him my feelings; we were already in such a vulnerable situation, I really couldn’t risk that. I couldn’t say anything; so I didn’t. 

Earlier, I think Carlisle noticed how I only started to calm down once I had an anchor; once I had him to focus on. So, he began to hum. I didn't recognize the song, I could barely think right now. I just liked focusing on the sound of his voice. It’s such a nice voice; I could listen to him all day, if he let me…

My gaze roamed all over the man in front of me. His golden eyes were focused on the arms I didn't dare look at again. His pale skin looking so smooth and soft, I just wanted to hold his face in my hands. The pale pink of his lips barely moving as he hums the nameless song. His blonde hair looking so perfect –too perfect–  I was tempted to run my hands through it just to mess it up. He just… looked like an angel. My guardian angel. 

After he cleaned my arms, he wrapped them snuggly, but not tightly, in some bandages. As Carlisle moved to dispose of the bloody cloths, I finally looked at my forearms. Only glancing down once I knew all the red was gone and the bandages were in place. I used my right hand to lightly run my fingers of the bandage on my left forearm. I could feel a faint sting of the fresh wounds, but it isn't painful anymore. 

“Carlisle…” I whispered, not bothering to look up. He turned around and grabbed both of my hands. I still didn't look up; now choosing to focus on how his cold hands almost engulfing mine. 

“Come, why don't we go into the other room?” he gently asked, using one hand to gently tip my chin up with his pointer finger. His eyebrows slightly raised as if he were waiting for an answer. 

“...Thank you” I finally spoke, looking right into his eyes so I know he understood how much this means to me and how genuine my thanks were. We both know that didn't really answer his question; he seems to understand me perfectly though. With a small smile, he pulls up both my hands so my forearms are eyelevel with me. He leans down to the left side and gently kisses the middle of my forearm, right on the bandage. 

“You’re welcome, my love.” He leans up to look me in the eye as he speaks before moving to do the same on my right arm. I want to cry. Not just for that sweet moment but how patient and kind he has always been to me, especially today. I don't think he knows how much he means to me; and I'm too scared to even tell him. 

“C’mon, let’s go,” He repeats, helping me off his desk and into the living room. He pulls a thick blanket off the back of the couch and wraps me up as he sits me down. I watch as he leaves the room for one second and returns with a book in hand. My favorite book… He remembered?

Sitting next to me on the couch, he goes to open the book but before he can, I scoot closer to him so we’re shoulder-to-shoulder. I try to throw half of the blanket over his lap, but somewhat fail miserably. He laughs it off and gives me a quiet thanks as he pulls the blanket over his legs and helps me get comfortable. I kick off my shoes and pull my feet onto the couch, gently resting my head on his shoulder as he moves to open the book once more; this time succeeding and holding it somewhat in between us, so I can see the words. As if I don't have them memorized by now. 

The last thing I remember from that long, tiring day was the pounding in my head finally subsiding as my eyes drifted shut. The absolute serenity and comfort I felt in the moment was unreal. I have never felt more safe than when I'm with Carlisle, especially on days like these: gently falling into some well-deserved sleep while listening to his voice.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

HI ITS ME gvxzggsgjfh ok look this is. i know this is a weird one it is SO specific and so obviously something i should just write myself if i want it👏but👏but👏BUT i decided to shoot my shot when a perfect chance has arisenderised for you to pick and choose from anything you like AND in any form, and to see if this one maybe by any chance just so happens to spark anything fun in u too xD

ssssssssssoooooooooooooooooooooo RANDOM EVENT ROLL D20 mc gets bitten by a werewoof or some other kind of "contagious" monster species (....cant really think of anything else other than vampirs, now that i say it) but WAIT THERES MORE because. what if mc insisted that they dont want any potential existent cures, they just wanna stay monstery >:3 JVDTHGLN who's considering it, who would absolutely go in the "its either me or this" direction, who's enthusiastic🤣 this is silly as hell but in the case it sparks joy id love to hear ur any and all thoughts because this idea has been haunting me for forever lmao honestly the best way ive imagined it is like one of your own selfinsert pieces youve posted before where its just all of them together bickering heeheehee💘💕🩷💞💖

love u have fun!!

The Arcana Drabble: MC transforms into a "monster"

In the spirit of things, I though a long drabble/short oneshot would work best to keep the madness going XD

Asra's getting stuck in their "one focus and one focus only" mode and right now that focus is making sure you're okay. He'll decide how he feels later, which isn't being helped at all because Julian keeps calling on him to help him slow down the process and get you to think about this a little more. However, it's hard to tell what exactly Julian wants your decision to be because in between him trying to get Asra to make you think about it some more, he's having all kinds of medical epiphanies about how your anatomy is adjusting to the new monster form:

"MC, let's think about some more, shall we? I'm sure Asra agrees with me - don't you, Asra? Asr - oh, whats this?! Your finger's joints are rapidly adjusting to accommodate for - I need a pen and paper -"

"Right here, Ilya." It's Portia's dismissive tone as she digs a small notebook and pencil out of her pocket that keeps you grounded. Not for long, though, because she can't wait to see what happens next. "Accommodate for what, anyways? Are you growing another joint?? Are you going to get claws??? Talons???? Show me!"

Between Julian jotting down unintelligible notes while he studies your elbow's range of motion, Portia's excited exclamations, and Asra's attempt at soothing touch as they rub your shoulders and ask how you're feeling, it's a miracle you can notice Muriel's quiet mumble in the background. He's clearly overwhelmed and very concerned that the physically-altering substance in general got to your brain first, making you so seemingly okay with turning into a monster.

"MC, do you remember your name? Do you need to take a nap? You don't have to be okay with this -"

"I believe this may warrant far more than a nap to recover from." Nadia's doing her best to keep Lucio calm, holding him back from tackling you much like she might grasp a leash. You can practically see the headache building behind her eyes. "We have yet to determine what the extent of this transformation is and therefore whether our dear MC is even capable of fully agreeing to the current process. MC, darling, did the source of this transformation give you any indication of what the end result would be?"

You'd try to respond, but Lucio's excited yelling is too noisy to shout over. He's fumbling at the fastenings on his cape, distracted by your ongoing changes, and very annoyed at Nadia's interference.

"Where did it go? I want to see if it can give me powers too - OW! Dammit, Noddy, I'm trying to help here! You're keeping me from finding the monster and getting it to give me cool - I mean, getting it to tell us more about what's happening! Don't you want that? Don't you want to help MC, Noddy?! Let me go -"

It's with a loud RIP and subsequent "that was velvet, you know!" that Lucio finally breaks free and sprints off in the direction of your new monster friend. You can feel yourself slowly settling in to your new form as the process shows signs of slowing and reaching completion.

Nadia's facepalming. Portia's looking at you with eyes shining in wonder. Julian's still trying to nag Asra into reversing this as he takes notes. The magician in question is still ignoring him as they ask you how you feel for the nth time. Muriel's eyeing the nearby closet in hopes of taking a nap and waking up to it all being a dream. Lucio's a distant, spiky golden speck at this point.

Faust is quietly trying to sneak her knife into your hand, for crimes.

[666writingcafe]

Level Six

Content Warning: sub!/needy!Lucifer antics ensue, possibly OOC?

It all ends in Lucifer's room.

Upon reaching his bedroom door, I notice a note taped to it. Reading it reveals that as soon as I enter the room, I must remain in there for thirty minutes. If I succeed, I'll earn my star.

I stick the note in my pocket, take a deep breath, and open the door. The sight that greets me makes me audibly gasp. Lucifer's wrists and ankles are tied to the bed, leaving him quite vulnerable to anything that wants to have their way with him. That, combined with the fact that he's naked and hard, tells me that this is going to be a long half-hour.

"MC." His voice is higher than usual, making him sound a bit whiny.

"Lucifer?" I walk up to the bed, resting my hand on the nearest post.

"Is this how you want me?"

"I mean, sometimes," I answer honestly. "I just want to be able to take care of you from time to time. You have so much on your plate, and you rarely get to relax."

"I suppose that's true." Lucifer sighs. "I'd be lying if I told you that I've never wanted to do something like this."

"Yeah, with Diavolo."

"With you," he corrects. He's never this candid with me. Not unless he's under the influence of something. Yet, when I question him about it, he tells me that he's completely sober.

I don't know who blushes more: me or Lucifer.

"Frankly, I'm surprised," I respond. "I didn't think you were the submissive type. Not willingly, anyway."

"Only with people I trust completely."

"I'd imagine that's a rather short list." He hums affirmatively.

"You're one of maybe five in my entire existence that I've felt comfortable sharing this with." I feel like my heart just leapt up my throat, making it impossible to speak. How in the world did I manage to do something like that? While I'm proving to be rather powerful, I'm still only a human.

"Quit it," he states.

"Quit what?"

"Thinking that you're unworthy. I don't make these kind of judgements lightly, MC. If I didn't think for a second that you'd be able to handle this appropriately, I wouldn't have agreed to indulge you in this particular way." His red eyes stare deep into mine, making me gulp. It reminds me that I'm dealing with the literal Avatar of Pride and not just some handsome guy off the street.

I have to distract myself. I can't give in now, not when I'm so close to completing this whole test.

I walk away from Lucifer, choosing to sit in his desk chair.

"MC, please." Ignoring him, I pick up one of the books off his desk and begin reading.

"MC!" Oh, he definitely sounds needy. And desperate. I take a deep breath, summoning as much self-control as I possibly can.

"No."

"Ple-ease!" Is he crying? "I wanna be your good boy so bad!" My hand grips harder on the book's spine. If he's acting, then he's nailing it.

"I can't." I hear him whimpering.

"Master, please." Oh shit. He's going there. "Give me an order. I'll do anything you ask me to." Glancing up from my book reveals a wide-eyed, flushed, and panting Lucifer. He looks so pretty right now.

How much time has passed?

"I would under any other circumstances, but not now."

"Whyyyy?!"

"Because I'd fail this part of the test." I try to focus my attention back on the book, but I hear Lucifer struggling against his restraints.

"Behaving like a brat isn't going to get you what you want, Lucifer." I'm surprised the thought escapes my mouth.

"I don't care. I need you, Master. I'll be so good for you."

"You're not being good right now." Would Asmo and Solomon consider this cheating? I hope not. I'm just trying to distract Lucifer--and myself--until the thirty minutes is up.

"If you untie me, I'll give you everything you ever dreamed of."

"Tempting, but no." His subsequent whining slowly turns into white noise, and I'm actually able to focus on the book. Not that I'll remember anything that I'm reading, but as long as I'm able to block out Lucifer, then I should be able to pass.

Suddenly, I hear a timer go off, indicating that the thirty minutes are up. I'm hesitant to move, though. Knowing Solomon, he's hoping to lure me into a false sense of security and then ding me for giving into my desires. Just out of curiosity, I start the stopwatch on my D.D.D. and continue reading.

Sure enough, another half hour has passed by the time Solomon enters the room. Waving his hand, he summons a sheet to cover Lucifer's naked form before walking over to me.

"I must say, I'm impressed, MC," he tells me as I close the book and set it back on Lucifer's desk. "I thought for sure you would have fallen for that." I shake my head.

"I figured it was a trap." Solomon smiles.

"Hold out your hand." Once I do, he causes the star of chastity to appear on the magical crest. He then guides me out of the room and gently shuts the door.

"Who's going to untie Lucifer?" I ask.

"The same person that tied him."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan

[psychoticallytrans]

So. Meditation.

I expect that a lot of you just cringed. Meditation is often presented as a cure-all, much like exercise is. And just like exercise, it's presented in a moralized way that fails to account for people who struggle to "just do it". In fact, in many ways it is worse- at least with exercise, you have sports, weightlifting, and running as classics that are widely known. With meditation, the only way generally spoken about is the "sit down and clear your mind" style. If there's only one way to do something, a large number of people are going to be completely unable to do it.

What meditation is supposed to do is to get you grounded in the present moment. It's supposed to help you tune back into yourself and the immediate world around you. Yes, I know that sounds like woo. Think of it as... an extended grounding exercise.

Here are some accommodations for various problems I've seen people have with it.

It puts you to sleep? Do it before bed and before naps.

Can't sit for an extended period of time? Take whatever position is comfortable. You also don't have to do it for long periods of time. Sometimes I set aside like five minutes to chill out and meditate to ground myself, and it has noticeable benefits for me.

Can't sit still? Walk. A park would be awesome, but just a room you can pace around works. If you really have to stay in one place, rock or sway. The key is that you want a rhythmic movement that you don't have to actively think about. I know at least one person who dances.

Distracted by the world around you? Focus on the input of one of your senses. Put all your processing power into hearing everything around you, or seeing everything, or feeling everything you can touch. The last one creates a great use for any fun rocks you have; you can roll them over in your hands and feel every part of them, and just experience the Texture. An advanced version of this is trying it with two senses.

Unable to clear your mind at all? Take your thoughts, start examining and untangling them. Then, organize them and figure out where they go in your mind. Why are you having this thought? Where should it be classified? I like thinking of the thoughts as books that need to be shelved correctly. This won't get rid of the thoughts, but it works as a form of meditation because you're thinking about the thoughts rather than just thinking them.

If you have another problem with meditation, please feel free to bring it up, and I'll see if there's anything I know that might help. It still won't be for everyone. Nothing is. But having more ways more widely known will expand the number of people who benefit.

[cr4yolaas]

the night shift — warmth

day 1 | masterlist | interlude 0.1

now playing: behind the moon shadow by lamp

kageyama watches as she rings up the last group of teenaged boys, the surplus of energy drinks and candies and chips failing to concern him. he thinks of her in her drunken, vulnerable, and giggly state, and her now, shielded and strong-eyed. the difference is evident in her stance, in her posture, in her tone. the group filters out and the jingle of the door marks the end of the night shift.

they follow their usual routine -- wiping down counters, taking note of stock, shutting off the heater -- and they move in tandem as they do so.

except, this time, she waits at the door.

"what are you doing?" he asks. his voice cracks ever so slightly.

she laughs at him, the noise filled with a heavy warmth that he finds unfamiliar. "waiting for you, of course. did you forget i was treating you tonight?"

he wants to tell her that he could never forget. that it never left his mind the entire shift. instead, he mutters, "a little, yeah."

again, she laughs, and it's whole. a far cry from what he perceived of her before, based on the cold shoulder she'd given him months prior.

the lights flicker off behind them, just like last night and every other night. she lifts a hand to her eyes to protect from tonight's harsher winds, with a sheepish admission that she doesn't quite have the funds to get something for either of them. "is it alright if we head to my place, instead? i can make you something," she offers.

he nods faster than he should.

——

it's awkward.

the lamps scattered around the house illuminate the kitchen and the dining table where he sits with his hands folded neatly on his lap and his leg bouncing up and down incessantly. despite all the uncomfortable silence, he feels a warmth that he hadn't experienced in a long, long while. maybe it's the air, he thinks, or the lighting, or the steam rising from her bubbling pot. but he doesn't think of comfort.

she stands over the stove with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her weight shifted to one leg. two packs of ramen reside on the counter beside her, both ripped open with tiny remnants of uncooked noodles. he watches her crack an egg in with one hand, then another egg with another hand. the pot stirs, and the water boils some more before simmering down to rest.

"spicy foods are great for winter, you know. helps to keep warm," she shares, an attempt at loosening the tension. her slippers click against the floor as she nears with the pot in her hands. the burning red hue of the soup and the assortment of vegetables reminds him of a meal from home.

the silence is less tense when they eat. they take turns as they pick up their own portions, her bites mirroring his. she chuckles at the pink spreading across his face from the heat, a mindless comment about his spice tolerance spilling from her lips naturally, and he can't find it in himself to argue with her. kenma's voice rings out in the background, and neither of them pay any mind to it.

a thought lingers in the air — whether or not he'd be in her house if it weren't for that accidental call. they don't want to dwell on it. good food is a good enough distraction.

"do you do anything outside of work?" the question disrupts the silence. he tears his eyes away from the meal and looks to her.

"volleyball. i play volleyball most of the time."

at that, she releases a hum and a nod, and he can't tell what it means. "yachi told me about that," she begins, her statement cut off by her own slurps. "why not go pro?"

he pauses. it's a simple question, but any semblance of an answer falls flat on his tongue.

it takes a moment before he responds. "i want to focus on myself first."

she can hear the bitterness behind it.

it's quiet again. they each take their last bites and the pot sits on the table completely empty, drained of all that it once had. together, they stack the collection of dishes up into a neat pile before she takes them to the sink, the water turning on and serving as white noise. porcelain clinks against metal in random bouts, and the warmth of the meal settles into sleepiness.

"what about you?" kageyama inquires, both an attempt to avoid silence and to keep himself awake.

"i don't have anything else to do outside of work."

her answer is instantaneous, a stark contrast to his, but similarly, it bears a hint of discontent. she bites the skin of her lower lip to redirect herself. "not that i really need anything else. or want anything else, for that matter. at least right now."

there's more to it. they both know that. but he glances at the clock hung atop one of the many lamps and realizes it's far too late to stay any longer. she jokes about how she couldn't care less, and it's natural. it flows.

the door closes behind him. she stands in the center of the living room with something heavy in her chest.

ᡣ𐭩 a lot of this smau is going to be convos between the frolickers gc bc i love them sm and they make everything feel natural

ᡣ𐭩 yams and yachi had the worst shift of their LIFE. an old lady came in and ordered the most complicated drink and when they couldnt get it down she started cursing them out </333

ᡣ𐭩 kageyama has a bad (?) habit of observing yn all the time. i hope it doesnt come off as stalker-ish i just think he’s a very analytical / people-watching person 😭

ᡣ𐭩 yn made shin ramen 😄😄

ᡣ𐭩 kags has an okay spice tolerance. he won’t throw up and die from spice but he will get super red and sweaty

ᡣ𐭩 i actually have no idea if i said this before but since new grounds and the convenience store are on the same street, yn and yachi tend to meet up during their breaks to talk and hang out !! they love gossiping about anything and everything hence why yn knew about kageyama’s vb stuff

ᡣ𐭩 similar to yn with kuroo and kenma, the frolickers gc is kag’s support system. he tries not to doubt their concern. he’s also just very avoidant so they try not to pry too much 😭😭

ᡣ𐭩 i hope this chapter was cutesy and nostalgic and warm and everything else that reminds you of home !! thats the vibe i was going for ^_^

taglist: @causenessus @strawberryuri @iiwaijime @savemebrazilhinata @tiramizuloz @conrad4life13 @wyrcan @zazathezaer @nperoconelcositoarriba @cupidsblonde @winniethepooh-lover