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Sleep is overrated for Xavier and can you feel how much I want you for Zayne if these haven't been requested yet please🫶🏽❤️

Hey anon! Sorry I'm getting to this kinda late, I was sick and just started to feel better. Normally I'd say limit one prompt per request but since I didn't get that many I'm writing both (and because I'm a sucker for these two).

“Sleep is overrated. I have better ideas.”

“Can you feel how much I want you?”

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Xavier:

It was a rare day off and Xavier was snuggled into you, your back pressed comfortably against his chest. You knew being a hunter drained him and that sleep was a luxury for him. However, you were just needy enough today that the sight of him getting ready to fall asleep was making you antsy. You turn in his arms, pushing your face up to his.

Blue eyes already heavy from a long's day work blink at you. "Are you ok?" His long fingers idly play with your hair, pushing it back behind your ears, a sleepy smile twisting his lips.

"Xav, are you planning on going to bed already?" You run your fingers down the front of his tshirt hoping to rouse him but he yawns loudly as the question is asked.

"I was. I'm sleepy."

“Sleep is overrated. I have better ideas.” You hold your breath waiting for his reaction and see a little twinkle in those captivating eyes.

"Better ideas? Like what?" Curious, he props himself up on his elbow to look at you.

"Oh you know...just...cute little ideas..." You boldly trace your fingers further down his chest, running bast his belly and suggestively give a light stroke at the front of his pajama pants. His sleepiness evaporates in an instant, every nerve in his body at attention.

"What are you doing angel?" he asks tentatively as you stroke him again, then reach out to cup him in your palm, feeling the softness morph under your touch.

"Isn't it obvious?" you tease then start pulling down the waistband of his underwear and pajamas at the same time. Pink dusts his cheeks but he allows you to do so, covered only by the blanket. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, his newly hardened cock now in your grip and pump him enticingly.

"Does that feel good?" you murmur sweetly in his ear, hot breath tickling him as he lets out a groan. Xavier manages to nod and you continue playing with him, stroke after long stroke of your small, soft, hand bringing him closer and closer to the edge of pleasure.

His hips start to roll on their own accord, matching the pace of your hand as you bite and kiss his neck.

"Mhhmm...that's so good angel..." his voice pants, thick with desire as your dextrous fingers continue to pet him. Precum leaks from his tip and you gather them to further lubricate him, movements growing slick and fast. Heat gathers in his abdomen and he can't control the noises he makes, hoping for it to come to peak soon.

A low, gravelly moan escapes him as he orgasms, spurts of cum erupting from his tip and falling messily onto your hand, little spasms punctuating his pleasure at the base of his cock.

He gazes at you in adoration and you grin.

"Still sleepy?"

Zayne:

Your arms are wrapped around Zayne's neck as he kisses you, tongues mixing and lips desperately locked against the other's.

It hadn't been that long since you'd had sex but the two of you had a hard time keeping your hands off each other, growing clingier as the day had progressed. Zayne's intentions were made clear from the moment you stepped into the car, his broad hand caressing your thigh as the other remained on the steering wheel. Your bare bodies are flush against each other and you feel tight hardness pressing against your thigh.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” He rasps, grinding himself on the soft plushness of your legs, his head bowed against your collarbone. "You make me...so weak for you..."

His lips capture yours possessively as his fingers dip between your wet folds, gently stroking before inserting a thick finger into your leaking core, his thumb coming up to rub circles on your clit. Your lips part to let out a sigh of pleasure, struggling against his actions, the sweetness gathering in your pussy too good to describe.

Your nails tighten on his back , leaving marks, whining needily. "Zayne don't stop...that's perfect..."

"I have no intentions to stop if it's making my pretty girl feel good," he says in a smooth whisper and you bury your face into his shoulder as you cum, pussy spasming around his fingers in harmony with your clit. Colors fade in and out of your vision as you ride out the waves of pleasure before collapsing back onto the bed. Zayne licks his fingers clean before positioning and sheathing himself into your warm cunt.

Both of you hiss in pleasure as he bottoms out, stretching you deliciously. "Can you take it?" He asks as he starts to thrust.

You nod dizzily, your brain turning to mush as he strokes your inner walls.

"That's my good girl."

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Gorgeous Misty Invasions Art from chimmyming on Twitter

https://x.com/chimmyming?s=21&t=E--mYAhoHyWN-Kup-yWiBA

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mhmm, a real danger to society.

(≖_≖ ) if dangerous, why so soft?

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“Irony tyrannizes us. The reason why our pervasive cultural irony is at once so powerful and so unsatisfying is that an ironist is impossible to pin down. All irony is a variation on a sort of existential poker-face. All U.S. irony is based on an implicit ‘I don’t really mean what I say.’ So what does irony as a cultural norm mean to say? That it’s impossible to mean what you say? That maybe it’s too bad it’s impossible, but wake up and smell the coffee already? Most likely, I think, today’s irony ends up saying: 'How very banal to ask what I mean.’ Anyone with the heretical gall to ask an ironist what he actually stands for ends up looking like a hysteric or a prig. And herein lies the oppressiveness of institutionalized irony, the too-successful rebel: the ability to interdict the question without attending to its content is tyranny. It is the new junta, using the very tool that exposed the enemy to insulate itself.”

— Taken from “E Unibus Pluram: Television and U.S. Fiction” (1993) by David Foster Wallace.

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The making of a comic page. This is page four of “Sistrenday”, an eight-page comic pilot that our artist completed recently for writer Mikael Lopez. In 2016, Lopez and our artist collaborated on the short piece “David Loses His Head”, published in Sliced Quarterly and praised in Broken Frontier this year. “Sistrenday” is an ambitious new step in their partnership; and, with luck, it will mark the beginning of a lengthy new series.

In order, the steps pictured above are:

Completed page

Finalized artwork

Refined colors

Rough colors

Refined pencils

Rough pencils

Thumbnail

“Sistrenday” is a fantasy adventure story, set in a magical land roamed by huge, enigmatic gods. In the page above, sister-protagonists Enh and Tuh are hired to steal from Mother Ember—the most powerful of these gods. By the end of “Sistrenday”, the terrible consequences of this decision are made apparent.

Since last month, Lopez has been posting teasers and concept material from “Sistrenday” on his blog. Those interested may find more of this project, including an unused test page, there.

Still Eating Oranges

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I slept so good last night. I wrote three songs in my sleep but was too lazy to get up

Hate it when that happens

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The significance of plot without conflict

In the West, plot is commonly thought to revolve around conflict: a confrontation between two or more elements, in which one ultimately dominates the other. The standard three- and five-act plot structures–which permeate Western media–have conflict written into their very foundations. A “problem” appears near the end of the first act; and, in the second act, the conflict generated by this problem takes center stage. Conflict is used to create reader involvement even by many post-modern writers, whose work otherwise defies traditional structure.

The necessity of conflict is preached as a kind of dogma by contemporary writers’ workshops and Internet “guides” to writing. A plot without conflict is considered dull; some even go so far as to call it impossible. This has influenced not only fiction, but writing in general–arguably even philosophy. Yet, is there any truth to this belief? Does plot necessarily hinge on conflict? No. Such claims are a product of the West’s insularity. For countless centuries, Chinese and Japanese writers have used a plot structure that does not have conflict “built in”, so to speak. Rather, it relies on exposition and contrast to generate interest. This structure is known as kishōtenketsu.

Keep reading

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my first favorite hobby is yapping. second is being extremely quiet and not talking ever at all ever.

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Greetings bugs and worms!

This comic is a little different than what I usually do but I worked real hard on it—Maybe I'll make more infographic stuff in the future this ended up being fun. Hope you learned something new :)

If you are still curious and want to learn more about OCD, you can visit the International OCD Foundation's website. I also recommend this amazing TED ED video "Starving The Monster", which was my first introduction to the disorder and this video by John Green about his own experience with OCD.

The IOCDF's website can also help you find support groups, therapy, and has lots of online guides and resources as well if you or a loved one is struggling with the disorder. It is very comprehensive!

Reblog to teach your followers about OCD

(But also not reblogging doesn't make you evil, silly goose)

[toothpickchewer]

ADHD at night: I could write a book. I could get my Master’s Degree. I could go to the club and come home with 12 new friends. I could get a job at that club and meet the mother of my children. I could cure every disease and use my wealth to bring world peace.

ADHD during the day: Fold laundry too hard :( Come back next week

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i just wish someone told me

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it can be hard to leave a toxic environment, but you deserve to be safe.

Digital illustration of a young Asian woman sitting on a staircase in a green tank top and pants. Text reads, 'you deserve to be in an environment that brings out the softness in you -- not he survival in you.'

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Shout out to the people who never had a safe place. Who didn’t have a before trauma. Who were loved but not protected. Who were collateral damage in someone else’s breakdown. Who got fucked up so young that they’ll never know who they could have been.

Shout out to people who’ve never felt safe. I hope you do someday.

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