#i've been ✨️struggling✨️

[starmocha]

me @ my body: getting real damn sick of your lethargy get your shit together i have things i want to do

[leon-stupid-kennedy]

Queue might run out and make this blog inactive for a couple days until I can replenish it ✌️

[forgotten-daydreamer]

vent moment but my health is a bit worse than i let on, which is weird ik since it seems like complain about it all the time here, and apparently i also look sick, because two separate people in their 40s or 50s asked me, 24, if i needed their seat on the bus. kind of them. but humiliating nonetheless.

[aureamors]

Week 1 summery

It's actually now a month into it but I didn't post this ages ago for some reason. I will do a follow up 1 month post soon

Physical changes

The very first thing I noticed which began happening by day 2 was that I started smelling different. I'm super sensitive to scent so I have noticed I'm smelling different- not necessarily worse but different.

Having said that though I have also been smelling worse quicker. I've begun sweating a bit more, and that's heavily contributing I think. I've always been super hygienic, so this was pretty surprising lmao. I gotta spray more deodorant so I don't get feral and reek

The main other thing I've noticed is bottom growth - it's genuinely surprising how fast it's happening. I noticed it growing by the fourth day, and it's since grown a lot more

Mental changes

Mentally I'm doing a lot better in a LOT of ways.

I'm a lot more excited for life, and I'm feeling a hell of a lot more connected to my body. I have always had fucked up levels of dissociation and maladaptive daydreaming to get away from my reality - mainly due to how dysphoric I am/was after working through all the other inflammatory issues for it.

Now, I actually want to live my life because it isn't as much as a mental struggle to exist with severe dysphoria. It's still present because T doesn't magically work all at once overnight, but I'm already feeling so much better knowing I'm finally beginning to change.

Before, I was kind of counting down to when I wouldn't be able to take it anymore and was utterly miserable. Now I'm actually happy to be alive and live life - it genuinely feels surreal.

The only real downside I have had is that due to that initial consultation being mainly about every single possible consequence health-wise (even it it's SO uncommon, it's laid on so thick bruh), I have been stressed out about potential complications as I also have OCD and it's latched onto the things my doctor was telling me even though I am at extremely low risk for said complications 💀.

I will warn the trans OCD having dudes who are gonna go on hrt to be aware that so much of that first consult is mainly going over the absolute worst case scenario like blood clots, cancer, and shit like that. It honest to God felt like reading the back of a panadol bottle where it lists stuff like kidney failure and heart attacks on the back but like - presented as the absolute FRONT of shit 😭

[fawniswriting]

𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐞

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Synopsis: After a mission filled with close calls and bad decisions, the team comes home to find an even bigger threat waiting at the door—your wrath.

Warning(s): THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS!!! platonic!thunderbolts x reader. no use of y/n. use of the nicknames doll, honey, and pretty girl. canon typical violence. descriptions of injuries. descriptions of explosion, gun use, etc. established relationship. profanities. kissing. VERY suggestive content (minors be advised). talks of having a baby. bucky being a little feral (very briefly). slightly hurt/comfort. basically bucky and reader being the parents of the group.

Word Count: 3.6k-ish

Author's Note: GUYS I saw this fanart on instagram and instantly knew that I had to write something inspired by it!!! I've been itching to post a thunderbolts fic since last week 😭 welcome back 2012-2014 era of avengers' tower fanfics ✨️ anyway I hope they're keeping the revolution hair for bucky in doomsday or else I swear I'm gonna RIOT!!! (I know seb's head is shaved rn but wigs exist yk 😔) don't forget to comment, like, and reblog loveliesss 🩷

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky Barnes doesn't understand a lot of things since he returned to society.

Cryptocurrency is one of them. Social media is another. Anything that involves more acronyms than actual words is an immediate no on his list.

Above all else, Bucky Barnes struggles to comprehend how exactly he became responsible for the group of walking disasters now hailed as earth's newest, mightiest heroes.

Looking at the pack of hellions in front of him, Bucky has serious doubts about that title.

Right in the middle of the tower's lobby, the Thunderbolts—the New Avengers now, apparently—are scattered like barbie dolls in the aftermath of a toddler's tantrum. John is standing against a column with a tight jaw, his left leg lifted gingerly, wrapped in a makeshift splint that looks suspiciously like someone's utility belt. Beside him, Yelena sits on the ground, legs sprawled in front of her as she cradles a bruised shoulder with an equally bruised hand. Alexei leans atop the front desk with a dried blood streaking down his temple, the young receptionist gone in fright the moment the team walked through the tower's entrance. Even Ava, usually one to disappear before debriefs, is visible for once, propped against the wall with her suit half-glitched and her expression blank.

Everyone is accounted for. Everyone is breathing. 

But they all look like they rolled down a hill of bad choices where they banged their heads at every rock.

The mission was supposed to be a quiet recon, a simple surveillance on a rumored underground tech sale in an abandoned shipyard, low risk with minimal engagement. But then someone—Bucky still doesn’t know who—decided that they could handle it. 

No heads-up. No plan. 

Just four impulsive thrill-seekers interrupting a high-stakes black market deal involving high-tech plasma rifles and an offended buyer with too many goons. 

By the time Bucky caught wind of what was happening, it was already chaos. He had to go in solo, extract the squad under heavy fire, disrupt the shipment, and reroute an entire response team of hostiles to avoid further catastrophe. They got out—just barely—and none of them seemed particularly eager to look him in the eye about it, especially after the thirty-minute tirade he launched into somewhere between fourth gear and a traffic jam.

From his place in front of the elevator, Bucky crosses his arms. “If any of you pull something like that again, you're all getting benched. Indefinitely.”

“What?!” Alexei roars.

Yelena scowls. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You don't get to make that call, Bucky,” John protests.

Ava nods. “We're not children. You can't just ground us whenever you feel like it.”

“Yeah?” Bucky laughs. Sarcastically. “Watch me, kid.”

As if on cue, the elevator arrives with a ding. Bucky gestures curtly towards the opening metal door. “Inside. Now.”

Reluctantly, the team shuffles in like a group of sheep being herded back into their pen for a much-needed nap time.

For a beat, the only sound that settles inside the cramped space is the low mechanical hum of the elevator ascending. 

That is until Ava decides to speak up.

“I’m just saying,” she begins, “it wasn’t like we meant to crash the deal. We were just improvising.”

“Improvising?” Bucky exclaims, glaring at her. “You call tossing a grenade into an active negotiation improvising?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Yelena argues, crossing her arms. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Bucky screeches, his tone rising. “Walker nearly lost a leg!”

“It's just a sprain,” John clarifies. “Probably.”

“See? It's just a sprain!” Yelena repeats a little too cheerfully. “He'll be good as new in no time. Right, John?”

John nods, failing to conceal his wince when Yelena bumps her unharmed shoulder to his.

Bucky rubs his temples. “I can’t believe I’m in charge of you people.”

The elevator dings again at the top floor.

“You know,” Yelena says as the team stumbles out of the metal trapbox, “we technically stopped the deal. You're not giving us credit for that.”

“That’s because you weren't supposed to stop the deal. You were supposed to observe.”

“Back in my day, observe meant punch first, ask questions later,” Alexei quips.

Bucky lets out a scathing scoff that echoes through the air. “Right. Remind me again how many years you spent rotting in that Siberian prison, Alexei?”

“Well, that's not very nice,” John mutters.

“You know what else isn't nice, Walker?” Bucky growls. “Getting your asses lit up by dozens of machine guns because none of you seem to grasp the basic concept of following orders.”

The group swelters in a momentary silence.

“I mean, in our defense,” says Ava, “none of us actually got shot.”

Before Bucky can tell her off even further, a voice suddenly intercepts, “How fabulous! You guys didn't get shot? Geez, someone really should give you all a medal for that.”

The whole team stops in their tracks.

One by one, everyone turns their head towards the direction from which the voice has come. The view that greets them could probably send a perfectly healthy man straight into an early grave.

On the platform floor a few paces away, they find you standing with arms folded across your chest. Despite the bright lilt of your voice, your eyes are cutting as they assess the entire team with the judgement of a juror who has already decided on a guilty verdict. It's clear from your attire that you were freshly off work before going straight to the tower, and since everyone knows that you were supposed to be on a work trip to Philadelphia for at least another two days, it’s safe to assume that your ticket back was booked right around the time someone shouted “mission compromised!”.

It's a full ten seconds of shared disgrace before Yelena finally breaks the silence.

“You called her?” she hisses, landing an accusatory glare in Bucky’s direction.

“I did not.” Bucky scoffs. “And why does it matter if I did?”

“Bucky didn't call me,” you interject, your posture still rigid, your gaze still icy.

“Then who—no.” Yelena's eyes drift towards the kitchen, squinting as she takes in the figure trying to hide behind the doorway. “Bob.”

Ava snaps her head up. “Bob, you little shi—”

“That’s enough,” you jump in, moving sideways to conceal Bob from Ava's murderous line of sight. “He's got nothing to do with this. This is about you—all of you—and what a stupid, reckless, dangerous thing you just did.”

Under your scrutiny, the whole squad shifts like a pack of raccoons caught rummaging through the kitchen trash. The weight of your stare seems to age them all by a decade.

“I'm gonna give all of you two minutes to explain yourselves,” you declare, the authority in your tone indisputable. “And I already know what happened, so don't even think about trying to trick me.”

There is a lull in the air where everyone seemingly tries to process your demand.

When their mouths open again, what follows is not so much an explanation as it is a verbal dogpile. Everyone starts talking all at once—too loud, too fast, and entirely contradictory. John tries to lead with the logistics, only to be steamrolled by Alexei shouting something about creative liberty. Ava attempts to downplay the situation with a jovial “it was barely an explosion!” while Yelena throws her under the bus with a hasty “she started it!”. 

Bucky—standing to the side with the posture of a man watching his funeral getting turned into a Dollar Store circus—doesn’t even bother stepping in. He knows better. 

You hold up a single finger and the room quiets instantly, like someone pressing mute on a trashy sitcom argument. The stillness that follows is so heavy, even the lights begin to flicker in anticipation.

“But we got out fine!” Ava sputters, desperate to fill in the quietness, though her voice immediately thins when she adds, “Mostly.”

“Yeah! I mean, it's just a bruise here, a bruise there—everything's great.” Yelena grins.

Your sharp stare slides towards John, the lines between your eyebrows tightening as you take in the awkward angle of his injured leg. John nearly cowers under your piercing gaze.

“How bad is the damage?” you question, your voice booming throughout the surrounding space.

“What, this? Oh, it's not that bad. Probably just need to ice it then I'll be good as new—”

“Walker.”

It's hardly a secret that John is perhaps your least favorite person in that room, with you still clearly holding a grudge towards him for what happened with the Flag Smashers. The man is used to your constant cold shoulder by now. He expects it, even. More often than not, John finds himself wondering if you would ever warm up to him the way you have with the rest of the team.

And yet, as he now stands at the end of your long stare, John can't help but think that perhaps your silent treatment isn't really that bad. Especially if it means he doesn't have to be on the receiving end of the critical scrutiny you're currently aiming towards him.

The blond gulps.

“There's a forty percent chance it might be broken,” John admits. “But it's likely just dislocated. No big deal.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Get to the medbay and tell them to run a scan,” you command. “Alexei, go with him.”

“That's not necessa—”

The sharp glare you're sending him causes John's words to lodge in his throat.

Alexei springs right into action, steering John away from your ferocious perusal and back towards the elevator.

“C'mon, big guy,” Alexei bellows. “Let's go pay a visit to our doctor friends.”

As soon as the two men disappear into the elevator, your glower shifts towards the remaining two people standing behind Bucky. Yelena pretends to check her nails while Ava's eyes are roaming the ceiling with faux nonchalance, both a pathetic attempt to avoid the clear daggers in your stare. The ridiculousness would've made you chortle were you not livid beyond salvation right now.

“I want you two to go back to your rooms, clean yourselves up, and be back here in no more than thirty minutes,” you proclaim. “We'll continue our discussion after dinner.”

“Wait, hold on—”

“That's not—”

“Just go, you two,” Bucky interrupts, the blue in his eyes colder than the Arctic ocean. “That wasn't a request.”

The two figures slump in defeat, teetering towards the staircase with the speed of a turtle in a morning rush hour. You hear Yelena grumbling something in Russian under her breath, and you force yourself not to think about what the phrase might mean lest you want your skin to crawl in an even higher degree of vexation.

“Good gracious.” Bucky shakes his head.

Behind you, Bob emerges out of the kitchen, his shoulders drooping ever so slightly as he approaches you like a wounded kitten.

“They're mad at me, aren't they?” Bob murmurs. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you guys fight with each other.”

“It's not your fault, sweetie,” you assure him, extending your hand and offering a comforting squeeze around his palm. “They're just being idiots right now. You did good, okay? Give it a few hours and I promise you, they'll forget about this already.”

Bob nods solemnly, his voice quiet as he excuses himself and trudges towards the common area. You release a breath as you observe him diving head first onto the sofa, burying his face in the cushion like a Victorian widow fainting onto her chaise.

Turning around, your eyes lock with another pair in blue. The smile on Bucky's face grows as he takes you in, his arms opening with all the intention to collect you in his embrace. 

“Hey, doll. I've missed—”

“No. Stay right there.” You raise your palm, taking a step back. “I'm mad at you, too.”

Bucky blinks. 

He watches you turn around and walk away from him, his arms coming down limp by his sides before he scutters after your retreating form. Bucky lingers in the doorway as you move about the kitchen, taking out pots, knives, and pans while slamming the cabinet doors shut in the process. You don't even spare him a glance as you start retrieving fresh ingredients from the fridge.

“Honey?” he calls out, voice meek beneath the echo of your knife slicing through onions on the counter. “C'mon, doll, you're really not gonna talk to me?”

“No.”

The chopping continues.

Bucky rubs his face.

“You know I'm just as disappointed in them as you are, right?” he begins. “Swear to God, doll, I had nothing to do with this. Didn't even know what those rascals were planning ‘till I got the call from Alexei. Told ‘em off as soon as I extracted them outta there.”

“Hm.”

Sighing, Bucky takes a tentative step forward, then another, finally closing the distance when he's sure you wouldn't smack him across the head with the chopping board in your hand. His fingers find purchase around your elbow, halting your movements, the gentleness aching as he spins you around to face him. The knife and half-sliced onion lie dormant on the counter.

“Hey,” Bucky utters, so softly that the air nearly swallows the word whole. “Talk to me?”

You heave in a shaky breath, evading his eyes. “What's there to talk about? I told you I'm pissed.”

“Okay, that part I already got.” Bucky chuckles, brushing the back of his palm on your cheek. “Help me understand why? At least tell me how I can fix it, pretty girl. Hm?”

Your silence quivers at the edges, growing more brittle with each swipe of Bucky’s touch on your skin. The walls around your heart crumble under his infuriating tenderness.

“When Bob called and said the team had gone radio silent, I—” you pause, swallowing hard, “—I thought something terrible happened. I booked the first train out of Philly before I even hung up.”

Bucky stays quiet, watching you with careful eyes.

“I couldn’t reach anyone. Not John, not Yelena, not Ava, not Alexei—not you. And the longer I waited, the worse it got in my head. I pictured the mission going sideways. All of you gone.” You inhale sharply. “I pictured all of you coming home in body bags.”

Bucky's heart breaks at the shudder he feels running through your back. His soul is already mourning over the loss of light he would usually find shining so brightly out of your eyes. It makes him cling to you just a tad bit tighter.

“Bob finally called me again to tell me that you're all fine. That you're on your way back. But that's not the point, Bucky.” You look at him then, your fingers flexing. “The point is, I should've never heard about all of this from Bob in the first place. I should've heard it from you.”

Bucky's shoulders sink. “I didn't want you to worry.”

You shake your head, eyes burning with the threat of unshed tears. “But I do worry, Bucky! That’s the point. I worry every single time. The moment all of you step out of this building, I'm counting down the minutes until you guys return to me again. You can't shield me away from that.”

He steps closer, removing what little bit of distance between the two of you until all of your atoms are nearly merged as one. “You're right. You are. I should’ve called. Should've trusted that you'd want to know, even if it might scare you.”

“It did scare me,” you whisper. “And I didn’t want Bob’s voice telling me everything was okay. I wanted yours.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs, his arms pulling you nearer. “No more leaving you out. I promise it’ll be me from now on. I'll tell you everything, doll. Always.”

A shuddering breath leaves your lungs, and just like that, you completely melt away under Bucky's touch. Your forehead drops against the line between his shoulder and chest, your fingers gripping his sides as though he was the very force keeping you tethered to earth. Meanwhile, Bucky's lips ghost over the top of your head, whispering sweet nothings, the contrasting temperature of his palms appeasing you with random patterns against your back.

“I don't know how this all started,” you confess. “I'm not sure when I began caring this much about those idiots, but I do. The thought of something happening to them—to you—to all of you…”

Bucky's arms tighten around your frame. “I know, honey. I feel the same way.”

“This is not what I had in mind, you know?”

You tilt your head back to stare at his face, your fingers tangling themselves in the soft waves that Bucky has been growing out over the past few weeks. He almost cut them all off several days ago, but after some convincing on your end—which may have included activities that found your fingers buried in the soft tendrils and his face buried somewhere else—you managed to talk him out of it.

Bucky's eyebrows lift. “What do you mean?”

“Well… when you said that you were joining this team, I thought I'd never seen a more dysfunctional group of people in my entire life. I figured it'd be a miracle if all of you last a whole month without someone quitting or accidentally blowing each other up.” You chuckle, your eyes softening. “I didn't think I'd end up pacing the hallway every time you guys went out, worrying like some overworked mother of five.”

Bucky huffs out a laugh, his forehead falling onto your own. “I get it. This wasn’t exactly how I imagined myself stepping into the dad role either, but… here I am.”

“Yeah?” Your lips quirk up. “How did you imagine it then?”

“Well—” Bucky's voice drops, his breath warm where it fans against your skin, “—I figured it’d start with a little house, somewhere quiet. Nothing fancy. Just enough for us to start building a life in. I’d fix the place up real proper. You’d hum to yourself as you whip up one of those famous pies of yours, and I’d pretend not to stare.”

The cheeky grin on Bucky's face grows, prompting a laugh out of your chest. His thumb continues to trace idle circles upon your waist.

“Then, when you feel the time's right, we’d try for a baby. The old-fashioned way. Real slow, real sweet. I’d kiss you like I got all the time in the world, and make love to you like I didn’t.”

Something flutters inside your chest, like stardust stirring in a forgotten corner of the galaxy. The way Bucky is looking at you makes you feel as if you were the first breath of the universe itself.

“That's how I pictured us becoming parents,” Bucky adds, brushing his lips along your jaw. “Not… this. Whatever this is.”

You smile at the graze of his beard on your cheek, angling your head to capture him in a brief kiss. 

“You know what I think this is, Buck?” you ask, teasing your lips against his own. “I think we should view this as a practice run. After all, how hard can it be to parent our own kid if we can do it to a group of five ridiculous, chaotic misfits, right?”

“Doll.” He sighs. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“Depends.” You hum, your lips twitching in feigned innocence. “If you think I'm imagining you putting a baby in me… then yeah, you're absolutely right.”

Bucky swallows your cheeky grin with a kiss, grunting against your mouth as he presses you back against the counter. The muffled moans you let out are music to his ears, a lascivious melody that rushes straight towards places he reserves explicitly for you. His hands slip under your blouse, roaming the expanse of skin, drifting lower and lower in search for the one place that could send him straight to heaven and—

“Yelena! Give it back to me!”

“I told you it wasn't me!”

Bucky groans.

The shrill voices resonate all the way down to the kitchen, followed by the unmistakable echoes of footsteps thundering down the staircase. Bucky makes a guttural noise of frustration as his face slumps into the crook of your neck.

“I swear to God, I’m gonna ship them to Asgard one of these days,” he mutters.

You snort, brushing your fingers through his hair and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. 

“Let's put a raincheck on the baby-making, soldier,” you purr, smirking when it spurs on a rumble from Bucky's chest. “Looks like I've got a fight to break up before we have two dead superheroes on our hands.”

He groans again, this time at the loss of your warmth as you slip out of his arms. From the kitchen's doorway, you raise an eyebrow towards the common area, perching your palms on either side of your hips as you take in the havoc ahead.

“What the hell is going on here?” you snarl.

“She stole my snacks!” accuses Ava.

“I don't even like Jammie Dodgers, you lunatic!”

“What a lot of crap. We all know you'd even eat chicken off the ground given the chance, you pig!”

“Fucking asshole—”

“Hey!” you interrupt, your voice sharp as you march towards the two fuming Avengers. “You call each other any more names, then I promise you, you're gonna wish you got shot on that mission today.”

Bucky watches the whole interaction from the kitchen with his arms crossed and a slow grin spreading across his face. He leans against the counter, studying you with the quiet reverence of a man who has found the meaning of home after decades of searching. Even in the midst of this domestic madness, even with the team’s antics grinding on his last nerve, he wouldn't trade a single thing in his life for anything else.

There are still a lot of things in this world that Bucky struggles to understand.

But with you by his side, and his entire team watching his six, he knows that he's got nothing to worry about.

[curlyberrrry]

My silly lil contribution to the Harleyverse ✨️

I just wanted to say thank you guys for making me feel like I fit right into the fandom, I've been struggling recently with mental health and I had to give something to show my gratitude (dw I will draw more Harleys, I ain't leaving anyone out!)

Why do they look like they're about to drop the next boy band album 😭

In order left to right :

@archaospetryx

@gmonocle

@ajoure

@paninityl

@harleysawyerlover

@birbdaddygram

@disasteryxs

[attackedastoria]

35% off entire sh○p with HELP25 ✨️

Just enter code at checkout! Reblogs appreciated, I've been struggling a lot the last few months unfortunately 💔

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

HIIII ayyy-imma-ninja

BTW FIRST OF ALL, LOVE YOUR CUTIE PATTOTIE WORK!!! I just wanna eat it [in a respectfull way because you're so talented

!question¡: any drawing tips?? for example, the things I've been struggling on [hands, shoes, or even how to perfect hair?]

p.s: You were my inspiration to keep on either drawing in the first place and not to mention the other thumbnail artists are ALL talented in the tsbs community so thank you ALL🤍🤍!! and have a nice day!😆🫵🏼✨️ ☀️ 🌙

✨References✨

I will admit that most times I just draw from memory out of stubbornness, but references are your best friend in figuring out how something might look (I like using Pinterest). There's lots of guides out there that even show how objects look at certain angles.

Using references is NOT cheating and never let anyone say otherwise!!!

Here are a few that I've collected:

[flawless-peach]

change your life ✨️

feel free to join me in this. I'm going to try to post every day about how I did <3

- get at least 7 consecutive hours of sleep. I've found if I go to sleep and then wake up back for a couple hours and then finish the 8 hours I feel I incredibly unrested. I keep myself accountable by using pokemon sleep which has a great alarm, so I'm looking forward to trying this instead

- read or listen to an audiobook for 30 minutes. literacy is a muscle, and using it is important, but sometimes I can't just sit down and read a book, and audiobooks are great for when I'm cleaning or cooking or folding laundry

- get sun daily. humans are a lot more like plants than you would think and so it is important to get some sun, even when it's a wintery sun that's cold or when it's a blazing furnace. Since I have some mental health issues and am unable to go outside im going to at least open my curtains, and if possible, crack a window to get some fresh air

- start a hobby you can enjoy. this one can be difficult because a lot of things require some sort of financial investment. for me, my hobbies for these six months is going to be writing and annotating books. but being creative is great for the human mind.

- learn to be comfortable alone. honestly this one will be difficult. personally, I live in a studio. privacy is nothing i experience, butthe little moments where you find yourself escaping with TV playing or music pause it and sit with yourself, how else can you learn to love someone if you avoid them 🥰

- meditate daily. this will be something I struggle with so much, but I'm going to try in the mornings since that's my peak time <3 and that's when I plan on doing a yoga flow during the sunrise

- eat healthy nutritious food. I hate cooking and I hate eating. having autism can make these really difficult for me to do, but I'm really really trying. I started the week before last to work on figuring out what snack foods I can prep, and now i just need to work on planning out some meals.

- positive affirmations everyday. I really struggle to have positive self talk because it feels so awkward and uncomfortable because I've been pessimistic for so long, but I want to change that ^^

- reduce screen time. this is going to be specifically targetting mindless scrolling for me. I have a tiktok account that I use for motivation, same with my tumblr account, and I also read on my phone and use my sleep app that I need to keep open at night.

- practice gratitude. my goal is to at night reflect on the day to try and find the good. I already reflect on my days and pick a mood, but I want to create lists of things i am grateful for, especially while I'm in between jobs.

[divine-crows]

🎨✨️Art Magic✨️🎨

Uses, Forms of it, and Why I Think Everyone Should Try it at Least Once.

Foreword

Right before the COVID-19 pandemic hit, I had been trying and failing to rekindle my flame for magic work. No matter what I tried to do I just couldn't get back into my studies and I was reaching a point where I was convinced I lost my spark and was doomed to live an empty life. Then it all changed when a YouTube Channel challenged how I thought about everything: Molly Roberts. That's when I was opened to the possibility of art magic, and I'll now share my love of it with anyone willing to read on.

What Is Art Magic?

A means to utilize art for spellwork, raising magical energy, or for exploring your magical subconscious. It encapsulates multiple different types of art and is generally not confined by conventional expectation (unless that's what you prefer).

You can utilize art magic by. . .

Using traditional art methods

Digital art methods

Collages

Music composition

Jewelry making

Embroidery

And much more!

How do I know if Art Magic is Suitable for Me?

There isn't a specific thing that'll indicate this form of magic is perfect for you, however I have some anecdotes from my personal experience as both a witch, and a regular artist that form a sort of idea on what could denote this being perfect for you!

First off, craving freedom from personal restraints was a big factor that pushed me towards blending my craft with my passion for art. If you want to run from the monotony of life, if you feel trapped by the social construction of boxes, or if you simply want to challenge your own mental restraints... then this idea might resonate with you.

Challenging yourself with a new form of magic, similarly, can also be a good enough reason to try. I'm the type of person who loves to constantly learn new things and I unfortunately get bored really quickly if I can't get new source materials. Using Art Magic has proven a fun challenge for me that allows me to explore a lot more topics you can't just open a book to find.

For those that may not be able to safely perform a lot of traditional style spells, this form of magic provides a discreet way to practice witchcraft. Most people wouldn't really question someone if they picked up the hobby of making art, and even if they did there's plenty of reasonable excuses out there.

How you prefer your spells to manifest themselves can also affect if this journey is a good idea or not. I find that Art Magic is really good when it comes to subtle spellwork that is more longform (though depending on how you construct them you can definitely create a spell that's the opposite).

Catalog aspects of your magical journey. Imagine a grimoire filled with pages of drawings, each one telling a story of something you experienced or learned as a witch. This especially may be more beneficial for visual learners.

You could use it as a means of meditation, sometimes art can be calming and it can open the door to your mind (so-to-speak). Especially if you're like me and struggle with staying completely still while trying to clear your mind, this may be helpful for you.

Trying to better understand archetypes, deities, types of entities, or even your own self can also be a big part of this. I've used art magic as a way to embody the "energy" of something before so I could better understand it. Especially when you're trying to seek knowledge that isn't often written on, it can provide a great way to explore more.

How Can I perform an Art Spell?

I have a step-by-step process that can give you some insight on how you may approach it:

1) Think of the intention you want. I like to close my eyes and meditate on it for about a minute then I write down if my mind wandered to any specific imagery or ideas.

2) Think of visual symbolism and colors that can help you capture the mood you want. Perhaps you need a warm color palette to invoke positive feelings, or maybe there are specific objects or animals you can include on the composition that represent something.

3) If you feel it fits your composition, you can include sigils, symbols of significance, and include shapes that have certain associations. It doesn't even have to be obvious either. You can use a circular composition to convey something endless for example, or a triangular composition to show priority over something.

4) In general follow what your heart tells you. This is a little cliche, but ultimately follow what seems best to you. Art isn't about boxing yourself in and my guidelines are just general ideas for anyone who's lost!

Why do I think that everyone should try it at least once?

From my experiences as a witch, I find that a lot of paths to be followed are quite rigid. By no means am I implying that a rigid structure is bad-- it creates a foundation from which we can work upon. I myself am exploring rigid, 'traditional' (for lack of a better term) ways of working magic. Art magic pushes you out of your comfort zone in a safe way. It makes you consider how you associate things. It makes you create new sigils and makes you research new symbols you previously wouldn't have used.

So next time you're lost on a spell, or you've lost your way in your Craft and you don't know what to do, think about maybe giving Art Magic a try. I hope my guide was a helpful starting point for anyone interested in the topic!

[r-aindr0p]

Back home from the con !!

I am exhausted but I had a good time w/ friends at our combined booths✨️ And even if the con was not all that good this year financially being with my friends still made it worth hehee

There were lots of parents with small kids/families this year though and neither was the audience for the allover merch of the con, so I was a bit confused ??? It was a struggle for 90% of all the artists there ough.. Most parents were walking past without a glance or a 'bonjour' and pulling their kids away from the tables. They were just here to see ?? The cosplaying contest and music animations on the nearby stage ?? Yeah that was something...

Very shook though that I actually got a few art commissions there, stuttered a few times and was scared to talk to most fellow artists but it's getting a bit better each year eee

Also I've been attending the same con for years though, and my friends and I are considering attending other cons outside of Strasbourg eventually so yeah that's a good motivation to get a driving license !

[sun-citadel]

Headcanon time, hooray

Harpuia is a ✨️ narcissist ✨️

No, I don't mean the stereotypical portrayal of an individual with narcissism, but rather the concept of a person [ reploid ? ] with NPD [ pwNPD ] . I'm not saying this because he was a villain, but because it suits him.

Edit ;; this is a game based observation, I didn't account for the audio dramas as it's been a while

[ flag cred ]

Why specifically NPD ? It's typically viewed as the " evil abusive person disorder " , when in reality it's a maladaptive coping strategy to handle a sense of inferiority and an internal struggle with deep seated self - hatred from early on abuse, by portraying one's self as high and mighty — and in many instances, better than other people to cope. But that's barely scratching the surface.

Anyways. I did reference the DSM - V / an unofficial revised version by a pwNPD, as well as testimonies from others. But this is more an internal character breakdown, rather than how a person may view a pwNPD on an external level.

But to my points :

- 1. Grandiose sense of self :

That's very blatant with how Harpuia portrays himself, to where upon his first meetings with Zero, he states that he will repent for his sins, only to then be bested. While he'd admittedly impressed by it, he does tell Zero to stay healthy so that he may exact his revenge in the end — still believing himself to be superior, despite Zero's legendary status and capabilities. Upon years of going unopposed and retiring reploids to the point of almost boredom it feels like, I've always felt he'd garner a rather haughty attitude up until a challenge comes forth and bests him. Though, his disgust and anger is best apparent upon the repairs forced upon him. To be stripped of his position, to be torn apart, only to then be repaired by those he views as lesser is a clear strike to his ego. He's pushing himself to the point of fully avoiding repairs if it meant he could have a shred of pride left, which, self punishment and harm is common when a pwNPD struggles against a crash and feels at a low point. Harpuia has gone from mighty, basically second in command to X, to someone who was brutally beaten time and time again, to outright admitting to enjoy the pain / letting the pain distract him from his existence [ depending on translation ] to just cope with a fragile sense of self as someone split of X.

- 2. Preoccupied with feelings / fantasies of success, power, etc.

It does tie what I said previously, his countless attempts to try and surpass the legendary reploid, so I won't be redundant and repeat points. But he is in a place of power, of success, yet feels dissatisfied at times. His Japanese dialogue states that :

フフ‥あいかわらず‥やるな‥

それでいい‥それでいいんだ‥

オレは‥

オマエとたたかっているときだけ‥

なにもかもわすれることが‥できるんだ

しばらくは、これでいい

Only when fighting Zero can he forget everything for a little while, an act of self - harm that allows him to cope with the fact the world he knows is starting to crumble. He's forced to face his ego, when he never did prior to the awakening of Zero. It's a ruse. His feelings are complex, switching from the enjoyment of a challenge, only to go mask off during the repairs and admit to feeling highly inferior, especially after his banishment.

By this point, as to not repeat myself, I'll lump categories together.

- 3. Believe that they are “ special ” and can only be understood by other special or high-status people.

The Four Guardians position, being created of X's DNA — dare I elaborate ? He's essentially the top 1% of Neo Arcadia, just below Copy X essentially, with an entire battalion beneath him.

- 4. Require excessive admiration.

Harpuia recieves it, he receives admiration, respect, yet at the same time, fear. He is entitled, because he's so used to his role as someone so above everyone, yet below only Copy X — which he does seem mostly satisfied with, up until his questioning of things with Weil. Being betrayed by his Master like so, especially to someone like Weil, is bound to make anyone feel low : and with Harpuia, he results to harming himself by leaving early from the Resistance Base.

- 5. Sense of boredom, due to a lack of connection with others.

Points to the Japanese translation yet again. That, paired with the fact he seems relatively lonely. The other guardians don't even follow him in his banishment, and show up only after to aid in defeating Omega. They were a team, he worked closely with Leviathan — yet, ultimately he was left by himself.

- 6. Lack of empathy.

He's killed others for what he assumed the greater good, contemplated killing Zero while he was downed, attempted to kill Elpizo for knowing too much, there are various times where he takes a more selfish approach when he tries to play hero. Though, in his lack of compassion and empathy, he does choose to do good — especially when following the rules of robotics to help aid and protect Neo Arcadia. Though to other reploids, he comes across as callous, harsh, and even evil, yet, he is simply following orders that he learns to eventually question upon realizing he's doing more harm than good.

So he enters an arc of remission at the end, where he isn't cured [ NPD is incurable ] , but ultimately makes a selfless sacrifice to better humanity.

Does he like Zero after this ? Debatable. Does he respect him ? Absolutely, possibly to the point of being viewed as an equal in the NPD hierarchy in my eyes, despite initially starting out as a devalued person / bottom of the tier.

There are other points, but I really don't want to be repeating myself. He just comes across as an individual with NPD, judging from a fluctuating sense of self as his ego is repeatedly shot down by Zero. He's self loathing despite a mighty mask he wears, and ultimately, still attempts to do good despite the horrible actions commited from a lack of awareness that his goal caused harm.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[erinwantstowrite]

might seem a bit out of nowhere

but i wanted to ask how you get started in writing. and i mean like how do you get into the ✨️flow✨️ of it after sitting down. 'cause i just tend to stare at my laptop

i struggle with getting into the flow a lot. which sounds crazy with how much i write, but it's true. usually when this happens, it's because i have a lot of inspiration, but no energy to complete anything. i have to make sure i start writing when i'm feeling good, after taking a break from my writing space. sometimes it's because im so exhausted from outside sources, which is more annoying than if i just needed a break from writing

but sometimes that writer's block hits HARD. sometimes i'm also staring at my document and not writing for hours on end. and when i do write, im in a constant state of "i don't like this" where i rewrite a chapter or just a singular scene over and over and over again. THIS is where i'd say i struggle the most with getting myself into the flow, and i can share what i do to guide myself out of it (here's a post i made a while back with other tips)

IMPORTANT: notice how i said GUIDE. you can not FORCE yourself into a flow. I repeat, you can not. it's impossible to force a flow, and if you try, you'll only make yourself hate writing. however. you can help yourself to get into a flow

-i take the time to go outside and/or get some exercise. i also mentioned that in the linked post but it's important so i talk about it a lot. i've recently decided to take up photography and birdwatching, and I got myself a hammock. as someone who's struggled with finding ways to enjoy being outside (I live in Louisiana and it's like i'm being slow cooked to death during the spring and summer), that's what gets me out there. i also make sure i hydrate and eat well because our bodies need fuel in order to create

-i read something new or i go back to something i haven't read in a while, and that (usually) helps TONS. i recently read some Sherlock adventures and I had a blast. right now I'm picking apart a "psychology" book (this author should be glad we will never meet, my annotations have not been kind), and i'm reading a book about fashion history. and my friends and I are going to start reading Dracula in our book club soon, which is exciting!! i have a lot of books on my to-read shelf and i annotate all of them. the annotations aren't necessary for this if you want to try but it's fun for me

(^ that being said, i'm gonna add on: sometimes i go reread fanfics that i like, and that's all well and good. there are very talented writers who only write fanfic!! but it's important to also read published works as well. if anyone wants a random recommendation for a book to try, hit me up. i'll give you a book that i have on my shelf or that i've been wanting to read for a while)

-i make a playlist or listen to a playlist to get in the mood before i try writing. specifically, i need something that i can imagine some scenarios to. i can't listen to music while i'm writing cause i'll get distracted, but doing so before helps me figure out the vibe im going for

-drawing. oftentimes i need a visual of what i'm trying to write. whether it's something like a character interaction or something like "i have no idea where everything/everyone is in this scene," it helps to have some paper nearby

-journaling!! i've talked about this a lot on here but i journal more than Ford in Gravity Falls. I'm not joking. I have a bookshelf dedicated to literal decades of writing and learning about writing. i have two notebooks for LoF, one for my DnD campaign, one for my personal records, etc. I have a new notebook ready for writing essays about the books i recently bought and am reading. my LoF notebooks are dedicated to messily writing up brainstorms or writing through scene ideas, i've written partial chapters in them by hand, etc etc. this helps me when im not in a writing mood to at least be doing SOMETHING. i rewrite my outline a LOT. also it helps me keep track of my timeline (i still fuck it up sometimes)

-actually forcing myself to sit down in front of the computer.

this sounds like the most obvious thing, but i'm talking i close out all my other tabs that i don't need for writing, i put my phone away across the room or in a different one entirely, i put on headphones and listen to only brown noise OR i get on a call with my friends to make myself not want to open Youtube or anything else. i'd rather sit there and stare at my computer than sit there and scroll on my phone or get distracted with something else and then be upset that i didn't write. even just staring at the document and working it out without writing a single word is better than that, because it means i was still working

in all honesty, you don't know you're in a flow until it Clicks. you could go do all of these and gain experience and knowledge for months on end and not write anything that whole time, and then one day you sit down and you knock out an entire chapter like nobody's business. it's just important to take care of yourself in the meantime and keeping your mind fresh

[jcollinswrites]

I've been trying to read this but I'm struggling because I really want the answer to be yes but I'm nervous to realize the answer is no and I did check the FAQ and I did search but I could not get the answer that way so I'll ask directly. Sorry if you've answered it before. And if the answer is yes (WOOOOHOOOOOO) or no (aww. OK) I will read this regardless. I just really need to know.

Can MC do magic? If so how does it work? If not...I'll be envious of all magic users for life as I get to see this stunning IF in action. All the best✨️

Well, that kinda depends. If you play with a priest/ess MC, then yes, your MC can do magic, but not in a Harry Potter kind of way. In the game, magic is not a solve-it-all. It works with natural elements, and it can do some interesting things, but human magic definitely has many limitations. For example, it's quite slow, it requires lots of concentration, and the result isn't always as good as you'd want, but it can still be effective in certain situations.

If you play with a non-priest MC, then you can learn magic from others, but it's never going to be as specific as a priest MC's magic. It will mostly be strong intuition, some telekinesis, and other, not overly spectacular things.

It's hard to explain without giving you specific examples, so I'd say, dive in and decide if you like it or not! :D

[russellsppttemplates]

Could you write one for Charles where one of the kids is struggling with something at school but they're having a hard time admitting that so he just finds out one day, and talks it out and tries to help?

Charles noticed Amélie seemed a bit more anxious lately, always closing herself in her bedroom to do her homework and study for hours on end, not allowing anyone to go inside her room until she was done.

"Amélie, can I speak with you, chérie?", Charles said as he watched your daughter walk into her bedroom.

"Sure - is everything alright? Did I do something wrong?", she mused she sat at her desk.

"You tell me - I've noticed you have been worried, tired, you're always studying and you don't seem all to well", he tried, "I just want to help with anything you're feeling but you need to tell me first", Charles spoke softly.

"It's just... school has been harder lately", she admitted, "I don't know what it is, because I'm still working like I usually did, but my mind keeps flying somewhere else - and then I've seen these videos of where people learn they have ADHD because of how many fingers they put down and it's all so exhausting and confusing", she admitted as tears of frustration pooled on her eyes.

"Chérie, you could've told me sooner, or mama too", your husband offered, "we could've helped".

"It's silly sometimes, because there's so much information, but then the teacher keeps saying that we should all work harder, but I'm hitting the top mark every single quizz we do", Amélie argued.

"Your math teacher? That woman is a fossil at that school, she was there when me and mama were students there and everyone thought she was ready for retirement then already", Charles chuckled, "but if you're worried, we can also talk to a professional, there's no shame in that".

"I know there isn't - it's just that I never felt like this", she swivelled on the chair, "maybe it isn't a bad idea, just to make sure".

"We'll do it then, no worries", Charles smiled, "in the mean time, you should also rest your brain a little, okay? And if you need any help, you ask for it".

"Well, since you're offering, there's this bit on my homework that I haven't been able to complete", Amélie added as she opened her notebook, "the dinosaur teacher said we should be able to do this with our eyes closed by now even though she failed to teach us how to!", she stated.

"Amélie Leclerc!", Charles warned even though he wanted to laugh at her words.

"What?! You called her a fossil, how's mine worse than that?", she argued.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[lick-me-lennon22]

Poly!Beatles X F!Virgin!Reader - Open Invitation

(HELLO AGAIN!!! my sincerest apologies for the short hiatus, I've been struggling with some heart issues and work troubles but I am back in business and rest assured, all of your requests WILL be filled !! ✨️ please enjoy this lovely request from anon :) 💕)

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️!!! VERY NSFW!!!⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

You'd wondered about the strange look they seem to have shared, but thought nothing of it until reached your hand in your pocket to pull out a lighter, only to find a scrap of paper. The boys had slipped a special invitation into your pocket at your meet and greet, one they had been saving for a very special fan.

But here you were, standing in the hotel hallway and staring up at the door in front of you, glancing down at the slip of paper to make sure you have the right room number. You suddenly began to get cold feet, wondering if this was some kind of sick joke. Would you open the door, only to be met with bewildered expressions on unfamiliar faces? Or, even worse, would you be greeted by the four of them, cackling like a pack of hyenas at your gullible nature?

You push away those unwelcome thoughts, putting on as brave a face as you can muster and raising a trembling hand to the door. You knock thrice as instructed, waiting with bated breath. Until...

"Y/N! We were beginning to worry you'd run our invitation through the wash. Come on in!" Paul welcomes you, holding the hotel door open.

You sigh in relief and chuckle nervously, taking a few tentative steps into the suite, the scent of cigarette smoke and cologne almost overpowering. The other three all greet you, seated in various positions on the sectional sofa.

A voice stands apart from the others, clearer than the rest - it's John.

"We've been looking forward to this all week."

Your heart skips a beat and you look to him with innocent confusion.

"And... what, exactly, is this?"

The four men exchange shocked glances, having assumed you knew what was intended by the invitation.

"Well, we thought... you know, with us," Ringo begins, but John cuts him off.

"We want to shag ya. The four of us," he explains bluntly.

George gives him a swift elbow to the ribs.

"Knock it off, mate! You'll scare the poor thing." John only rolls his eyes in response.

You're taken aback by the proposition. You know no one in their right mind would pass up such an opportunity and, though not opposed, you can't help but feel intimidated. This would be your first time, and with The Beatles? All of them?!

Paul interrupts your train of thought.

"You really don't have to, we can just-"

"No, no! Believe me, I've dreamt about this forever. It's just..." you trail off, somewhat embarrassed.

"What is it? You can tell us, we won't judge," Ringo encourages, but John interjects.

"If we didn't say anything about that outfit you wore to our concert, you know we're good for it," he snickers.

George throws him another jab to the ribs with his elbow.

"Ow!"

You ignore his snide comment, too focused on the matter at hand to be offended.

"I'm... a virgin," you admit, bracing yourself for laughter. Instead, you're met with gentle nods and understanding expressions from the four men. They take a moment to process your admission.

"We wouldn't want to pressure you," assures George as you take a deep breath.

You take a moment to consider the idea. On one hand, this is an important part of someone's life, a milestone - not exactly a decision to be rushed. But on the other... it's The Beatles. I mean, come on. This is the opportunity of a lifetime.

"Well, if there was ever a good time... I suppose this would be it."

"You sure, love?" Ringo chimes in. "The last thing we'd want is for you to feel uncomfortable."

"I'm sure."

"Well, all right then." They share another look amongst themselves before John nods and looks to you.

"We'll start off slow then, yeah? C'mere," he says, patting his thighs. You approach, nervous excitement coursing through your veins.

You sit on his lap, your body tense. He places his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them soothingly.

"Loosen up, I wont bite."

"Yeah, right."

He shoots George a look.

"Unless you ask nicely," he says with a wink.

You chuckle, beginning to relax. The others watch intently as John shifts his hands to your waist, gently massaging your sides. He mumbles lazily in your ear, his thick accent intoxicating.

"Speak up, Johnny!"

"Share with the class, will ya?"

"Oh, piss off," John dismisses Paul and Ringo, returning to your ear for a nibble. You giggle at the unfamiliar feeling, his nose brushing against your cheek. He moves to your neck, starting off with gentle kisses before growing bolder, leaving love bites along the junction of your neck and shoulder.

You shiver as his hands wander lower - down to your hips, giving them a squeeze, then coming to rest on your thighs. The size of his hands and the warmth of his palms stir something within you. You inhale sharply, biting your lip as a familiar heat pools in your abdomen - the same kind you feel when you watch the lads perform. Judging by the growing bulge beneath you, it seems John is enjoying himself just as much.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes!" You reply breathlessly, a little too eager. "Yes. Keep going."

This earns a chorus of chuckles from the group, who have each begun to palm themselves through their trousers at the sight.

John's hands work their way to your inner thighs, caressing and squeezing gently. He mumbles sweet nothings in your ear as he parts them. His warm breath tickles the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"More, I want more."

At that, Paul stands and steps closer to you, twirling a lock of your hair around his finger.

"You want more, do you, pretty girl?"

You nod enthusiastically, whining in arousal.

"Perhaps she could use something in that pretty mouth of hers to muffle those whines," George suggests with a smirk. You get what he's hinting at, biting your lip and giggling nervously as you look up at Paul.

"I'm not sure I know how..."

"Oh, I'm more than happy to show you, love... if you would."

"Please."

"Eager little thing, eh?" George and Ringo tease, but Paul ignores them.

"Sweet girl... I'll give you what you want."

Paul undoes his trousers and drops them to his ankles, followed quickly by his briefs. You can't help but stare, awestruck, and Paul chuckles.

"Like what you see?"

You nod.

"Would you?" he asks, and it takes you a moment to realize he's inviting you to touch. You reach a tentative hand out in front of you.

"No need to be nervous," he soothes, stroking your hair tenderly.

You grasp the base of his length, hand trembling, and Paul groans at the contact. His skin is softer than you's expected, somehow, and you decide you like the feeling. You begin to move your hand up and down, pumping him cautiously as if afraid to hurt him. Your eyes flicker from your own hand to Paul's face, cheeks flushed and mouth agape. The sight of him this way, knowing what you can do to him with just a few simple touches, makes you feel powerful in a way.

Meanwhile, John's hand slips beneath the waistband of your knickers, traveling lower until he reaches your heat. You instinctively tighten your grip on Paul and the two of you moan in tandem. John trails a finger up your slick folds, drawing gentle circles around your clit.

"Mm... are you ready to open up for me, sweetheart?" Paul asks, his voice almost sickeningly sweet. By this point, Ringo and George have both unzipped their flies, tugging their trousers and briefs down past their hips. They're clearly enjoying this little show, pleasuring themselves as they devour you with their eyes.

"Go on, doll," John encourages. "Take 'im into your mouth."

You do as he instructs, eliciting another soft moan from Paul. He tightens his hold on your hair, using all of his willpower to keep himself from tugging you down onto him.

"Oh, good girl... further, if you can. I won't rush ya."

You pull back for a breath before obeying, slowly taking more of him into your mouth. He throws his head back, groaning in satisfaction. A string of curses tumble from his lips at the soft, warm feeling and you hear John snicker behind you. You really start to get the hang of things, falling into a steady rhythm and bobbing your head as if you were made for this.

All of a sudden, your focus is broken as John's fingers cease their movements and you feel them wander lower. He slides a finger inside of you, taking care to go slow - he's far more gentle than you had imagined. You moan around Paul and he growls, faced flushed pink and eyes screwed shut.

"Fuck... don't stop, doll. You're perfect," he praises and you continue as John's hand moves between your legs.

The friction of his fingers along with Paul's words of praise leaves you lightheaded - well, that and the lack of oxygen. As you pull away for air, George clears his throat.

"What about us, Macca?" He quirks an eyebrow, gesturing to himself and Ringo.

Paul hesitates for a moment before sighing, irritated.

"Fine... I'm getting close, anyway," he grumbles, tugging his waistband back up as you pout in disappointment.

Soon enough, Paul takes a seat on the sofa and George and Ringo take his place, pumping themselves idly as they gaze down at you with lust-filled eyes.

"Go on, doll," George begins, a wolfish grin playing on his handsome features. You comply, taking him into your mouth a little too far as you sputter and cough.

"Careful, dear," he chuckles. "Take it slow."

You try again, more gradually this time. John squeezes your hip with his free hand and you squeak, sending pleasant vibrations through George's lower half.

"That's it, love. Nice and easy," he groans, running his fingers through your hair. After a few minutes you gain momentum, growing more confident in your actions. A tight knot forms in George's stomach as he feels the others' eyes on the two of you, heat rising to his cheeks as he lets out another deep growl. You continue your work on him, but Ringo becomes impatient, scoffing and nudging George's shoulder to snap him out of his stupor.

"C'mon, mate. I think it's my turn - that is, if the lass'll have me." He turns to you, a hopeful glint in his blue eyes.

You nod, humming an "mm-hm" around George's cock. He relents, pulling away begrudgingly.

"Fine. Go on, Rich."

"Attaboy, Ritchie," John pipes up, a lazy grin on his face. Paul simply gazes at you through half-lidded eyes, mesmerized by the performance you've been putting on.

Ringo stands before you, trousers undone. He seems a bit nervous, but any reservations he has are quickly overpowered by desire as he sees your glistening lips and messy hair. You reach a curious hand up and Ringo takes it in his calloused one, guiding you to grasp the base of his length. You give him a soft tug, catching him off guard. He draws a breath through clenched teeth, eyes fluttering closed.

You take him slowly into your mouth, your jaw working overtime to accommodate his size. Once you've settled into your pace, you begin to experiment with your tongue, tracing the underside of his cock. He growls almost primally, tightening his grip on your hair and moaning your name as you bring him closer to the edge.

"All right, you've had your fun," George interrupts and buries his own hand in your hair, gently grasping and tugging. You go to work on him once again, in a daze.

"That's not fair, mate. I had her," Ringo retorts, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling you back in his direction. The two men bicker as they stand over you, essentially playing tug-of-war with your mouth.

"All right, all right, that's enough of that." John swats their hands away and they draw back, pouting.

"Yeah, c'mon, lads. We'll each have our turn," Paul chastises.

"In fact, " muses John, "I'd say it's about time Paulie and I take the reigns, eh?" He withdraws his hand from between your thighs, casually licking his fingers clean.

"Wait, wait... and? How's that supposed to work."

"Come with us, love. We'll show you." Paul takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom, the other three following suit.

John places a soothing hand on your upper back, ushering you to the bed.

"On all fours, darling. Just relax."

You do as he instructs, getting into position as the others watch on with hungry eyes. John pushes your skirt up above your hips and tugs gently on the waistband of your knickers.

"Can I take care of these for ya?" he smirks.

You hesitate for only a moment before turning back to look at him over your shoulder.

"Yes. Please."

"Eager, are we?" They all chuckle and John slides them off, his trousers growing even tighter at the sight of you bare before him.

"Christ, you're soaked," he murmurs and you blush, somewhat embarrassed.

"Is that... bad?"

"Oh. Right." You bite your lip. John undoes his trousers and lines himself up at your entrance, stroking your hair to calm you.

John chuckles, amused by your inexperience. "No, sweetheart, not at all. It tells me you're excited - y'know, ready for me."

"Now - you're sure you want this, yeah?"

"Yes! Yes. I've thought it through, and..." you draw a breath, "this is what I want."

John groans, satisfied by your response.

"All right. Relax your body as much as you can, and keep your breathing steady. Don't worry, I'll be gentle," he reassures and you nod.

"Ready for me, love?"

You hiss and squeeze your eyes shut. John waits for your body to adjust to the intrusion before gradually sinking all the way in, using your hip as leverage while he buries himself inside you. The others look on with a combination of jealousy and need, wishing they were the ones to fill you.

"Yes! Yes. I want you, John," you beg and he takes your cue, pushing slowly into you.

"Fuck, doll. You're so bloody tight," John growls as you grip the bedsheets beneath you. The other three groan, imagining themselves in John's place. After a few moments, he speaks up.

"I'm going to move now, doll."

John begins to move, sliding in and out of you slowly, careful not to hurt you. You whine in pleasure, the sudden friction causing you to arch your back further. His breathing grows heavy, grunting as he increases his pace.

"Mm-hm," you whimper and brace yourself.

"Ah... fuck. Uh-huh," you manage as John continues to fuck you into the mattress.

"Mm... you're doing so good. Think you can take Paulie too?" he challenges and Paul lifts his head, pausing his movements.

Paul approaches, a sly grin on his boyish features as he stands in front of you.

"Yes, Paulie, yes! I need you all so bad."

"Sure you can handle it, love?"

You moan around him as he slides himself into your mouth, stilling when he hits the back of your throat. He pauses, composing himself before sliding in and out of your mouth, gripping the base of his length as he guides himself.

Your words elicit a collective moan from the men and Paul presses his tip to your mouth, eager to have you again.

"She's damn good, ain't she, Paulie?" he asks through his own pleasured grunts. Paul hums in agreement as the two men thrust in and out of you, the rhythmic push and pull scrambling your thoughts and dulling your senses.

"Bloody hell," he mutters, "Her mouth feels so good Paul groans as John chuckles breathlessly, increasing his pace to match Paul's.

"Feeling generous, love? You've got two hands, after all," Ringo points out. In your lust-filled trance, you raise your arms, offering your hands to the two men. They gratefully accept, thrusting into your fists as the four of them surround you.

Ringo and George, stroking themselves to the sight, begin to feel left out and approach the bed.

You take care of the men's needs surprisingly well considering your lack of experience.

"She's too bloody tight to have done anything before. Trust me, Macca," he groans, gripping your hips as he fucks you into the mattress.

"You sure you haven't done this before, doll?" Paul questions, but John interjects.

"Fuck... Christ, love. Where do you want me?" he asks and you consider your options.

Your whines increase in pitch and frequency, but you certainly aren't alone as all of the men approach their climaxes.

"On my ass," you reply and he pulls out near-immediately, spilling his load on your lower half. You revel in the warmth, moaning around Paul as he approaches his own summit. He pulls out of your mouth, unloading onto your pretty face while you lie as still as possible, drunk on the taste of him.

"Bloody hell, Y/N..." Ringo murmurs.

While John and Paul catch their breaths, George and Ringo increase the speed of their movements, driven by the sight of you drenched in their bandmates' cum.

"I-I'm going to-" he pulls out of your hand, covering your chest and shoulder with his hot cum as George does the same, groaning your name loudly.

The five of you take a moment to breathe, all of you sweaty and spent. You collapse onto the bed, none of them really caring about the mess.

"You should probably clean yourself up, love," Paul suggests. Begrudgingly, you rise from the bed and head for the attached bathroom. You manage to make yourself decent, dressing yourself in a t-shirt one of the boys left behind before stepping back out into the bedroom.

They all stare at you in disbelief, mouths agape.

"So, uh... can one of you drive me home?"

"Plus, you ARE wearing my shirt," John points out.

"You really think we're going to let you go back to your flat after THAT?" George asks, incredulous.

You chuckle in response.

"Guess not," you reply, flopping down on the bed. The men clean themselves up, returning to your side.

"So good for us," George adds, nosing into your hair while the others hum in agreement.

"Such a good girl, you are," Paul praises and kisses your forehead.

By the time they start arguing about John hogging the covers, you're already drifting off to sleep, the familiar chatter comforting you and quieting your mind.

"Aww. Look at that, lads. Guess we lulled her to sleep," Ringo snorts.

"Yeah, but I should-" John pauses, interrupted by your faint snoring.

They each lean over to place kisses on your cheeks, whispering their own "goodnight"s and finally shutting the light off to join you in your slumber.