#lots and lots going on in that tiny messed up brain of mine

[cosmoseinfeld]

looking up punk pictures on google is so bad for me because it always ends up showing me the grainiest oldest baby punk pictures and i start hyperventilating and crying...

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

Wild how the way your brain develops during your formative years will impact so much of the rest of your life….. absolutely stupid that if you don’t have a healthy environment in those formative years your brain is just absolutely fucked…. Absolutely insane and unfair how much work you’ll have to do (most likely for the rest of your life) to undo even a small bit of what it’s done to your brain and your development and how you navigate the world….

[a-b-riddle]

A Simple (Mis) Understanding Chapter Two: Numbness & Pain

Daisy

I always used to think it was an exaggeration of how pregnancy is a constant state of exhaustion. But it was a lot of work growing a tiny human. Add in the fact that I'm still working 40 + hours a week and, of course, something is always causing some sort of discomfort or pain.

Swollen feet, back pain, nausea; I can't even find any solace in sleep. The 32 week mark felt so close, yet still so far. Another eight or so weeks of this seems like a drop in the bucket compared to how far along I am, but still. That still another two months. So far away when you want to be done, but still too short compared to everything I still have yet to do.

Another two months to set up a crib and wash her new clothes. Another two months to figure out a name and make decisions that I always envisioned making with a partner. Another two months of struggling to do things like picking up shit off the floor or staying on my feet long enough to make a decent meal.

But right now, I wasn't worried about the two months ahead of me and all the things I still have to do. Right now, I was looking forward to a three day undisturbed weekend. The pain in my feet and sciatica was becoming so bad, I had taken Friday off to see a doctor and spend the rest of the weekend doing nothing, but sitting in my modest little house and watching mind rotting television. I might even indulge in some spicy reading. Heaven knows its been too long.

Or at least, it hasn't been since them. That day in the office, but... that really didn't count. I often wrestled with myself about it. That one time erased any feelings I had for any of them. But I felt a bit pathetic how it now tainted every good memory I had with them. Kyle bringing me something to snack on when he realized I hadn't gone to the mess hall. Price always having a cup of earl grey tea cooling for me first thing in the morning. Two packs of zero calorie sweetner and a bit of honey.

Sweet like you.

I couldn't stand the smell of it now. I blamed it on the hormones. A lot of things made me queasy, but something about the smell of the bergamot, made me sick in a completely different way. A feeling not of nausea, but of... fear. Like the same way a pentagram could summon demons, earl grey could summon mine. As if John Price was somehow there any time the scent lingered in the air.

But he wasn't. None of them were. Fuck. Why did my thoughts always go back to them at some point? No. This was going to be a relaxing weekend god dammit. Fuck them.

Almost angrily, I hit the garage key fob, shutting the door and engulfing me into darkness; a thin line of light leaking through the bottom of the garage door. When I had opened my door, I could at least see a path to my mudroom. I grabbed my purse, ready to go in, when I felt it.

Hundreds of needles. Stabbing and digging into my feet. Not just the soles, but the entire fucking foot the moment I bared any weight on them. I pulled off my flats and it was then I noticed how angry they looked. Red and swollen and all but screaming at me to sit my fat ass back down. I wiggled my toes, trying to get some blood flow. Fuck. Why didn't they hurt while I was driving?

I manage to get onto my feet, using the car door as support. Steading myself until I was ready to take the first step. By the time I had managed to all but crawl inside, ten minutes had passed since my initial arrival time. I got off at 5:00, but usually didn't log off until almost 6:00. Granted, I work from home, but I had run out of a few essentials. Essentials now that were in the boot of my car.

Fuck.

10 minutes won't hurt. Not like there is any thing frozen. Speaking of which, I forgot my ice cream... dammit. I really need to start keeping a list on the fridge. It's hard to remember when pregnancy brain (or stomach) takes over and I slam a container in a single sitting.

Grabbing a pillow from the couch, I went to the kitchen. Which considering the town house, or terraced housing I suppose now, was perfect for a single and expecting Omega it was cozy. Not like the base where going from the common area to the chow hall was about a three minute stroll.

I get down and lay on my back. Carefully maneuvering so my ass rests against the cabinets before I hook the back of my heels unto the counter top so I could rest my feet a bit. Not the most sanitary, but it wasn't like I had guests. It was just me. For now.

It took a few moments to adjust. My back ached against the hardwood, but I could already feel the relief from my feet and legs. It wasn't all that shocking that I was having a hard time with them. I had gained a considerable amount of weight during my pregnancy. When I had brought it up to the OBGYN about possibly cutting back on food, her suggestion was to simply not weigh myself at home. Now when I went in for a visit they made me turn around before taking my weight.

It was hard. I've always had a problem with how I looked and now adding pregnancy then taking away the option to diet and exercise didn't exactly help.

I pulled out my phone and was preparing to open my kindle app when I saw a tiny red bar in the top right corner of my phone. Of course. I get nice and settled and my phone is on 2 fucking percent. Whatever. I tell Alexa to set an a timer for fifteen minutes and take a little nap. Maybe meditate.

A knock on the door quickly brings any possibility of relaxation to a pause. Margaret next door was dropping off Winnie off early to go to her book club. Margaret was a widow and a recent empty nester. She had spent her life as a mother and a homemaker. When I got custody of Winnie two months ago, she had quickly stepped up in helping me with everything from child rearing to managing my pregnancy.

"Hello, Maggie!" I greeted from the floor. "Hello, Winnie Darling." Winnie had the same sand colored hair as me and bright green eyes. Her face was a shade of red and I could smell her from the entryway. Someone would need a bath today. Fantastic.

"Oh, Dear!" Maggie fussed, setting Winnie down on her feet before coming over to me. "Are you alright?" Winnie didn't bother stopping to hug me like she normally would before making a beeline toward the potty. She usually was a creature of habit, but nature calls I suppose.

"Feet are a bit swollen." I waved off. "Just resting them a bit."

"I don't have to go tonight." She set her bag down. A deep green corduroy shoulder bag that always had just what you needed in it. A wet wipe, hand sanitizer, a spare tissue and even a stain pen when a spill happened at the most inconvenient time. "I'll stay and-"

"Maggie." I said, trying my best to sound at firm, but it was hard with her. No one told Maggie 'no'. "It's alright. Just a bit of water retention. Nothing to fret over." And it wasn't. I could already feel the pain from earlier subside.

"Really, it's no bother." She argued, bending over to unstrap one of her shoes. "It's a bloody stupid book anyway. I just go for the gossip really."

"Maggie." I tried again. "Really."  "It's getting close to the due date and I don't want to burn out on me just yet." It was a lie. Even with her greying hair, a deepened laugh line, Maggie didn't burn out. She was one of the few Omegas I had met in my life and she could run circles around any of them, myself included.

The sound of flushing sounded from the bathroom followed by the faucet. She huffed before slipping her shoe back on. "If you insist."

"I do." I encouraged. As much as I loved having Maggie's help, I hated feeling like a burden. She had raised her children. It was time for her to do things for herself. "Besides, we'll see you tomorrow after my appointment tomorrow." The bathroom door clicked open, revealing my little Win with the front of her smock covered in water. Fantastic.

"Hi, Mommy." Winnie finally greeted. Her freshly washed hands dripping water droplets onto the hardwood. "What are you doing?"

"My feet hurt so I'm just letting them rest." I explained, looking up at her. Winnie was rambunctious as most four-year-olds without a sense of self preservation are, but when I explained to her how careful she had to be now that I had her sister in my belly, her nature had become more gentle.

It worried me as much as it warmed my heart. 

"Why don't you sit on the couch?" She asked. Her head tilting to the side, face etched as if she were trying to figure out my reasoning.

"Because it helps when you lift your feet up high in the sky, Winnie Pooh." Maggie explained before looking back at me. "Well if you're sure-"

"I am. Go." I urged. "We'll see you tomorrow. Lunch around noon?" Spending time with Maggie didn't make me feel like such a parasite when I knew she enjoyed the company. Her children had all moved away, only one staying in the UK. She wasn't so alone, but neither was I.

"Wouldn't miss it." She gave a soft smile. The laugh lines around her face deepening. "See you tomorrow, Dearies." She said, retreating back outside. The soft sound of the door clicking behind her.

Winnie had laid down beside me. Yep. Definitely going to need a bath tonight. "How was school today?" Winnie went to a pre-school that was luckily covered under my insurance. Perks of being an Omega. I'll take it where and when I can.

She talked about going to the playground and painting. All the usual bits. Who she played with and new things she learned. Then came the question. A question she had asked before in passing. A subject I changed with ease before. 'Have you brushed your teeth? How about another episode of Bluey? Put on your trainers (because we can't just say tennis shoes anymore) and we'll go for a walk to the park. I had skirted around the question with ease. 

"Why don't you have a mate if you have a baby?" Winnie was too young to get the answers to a lot of life's difficult questions. Why did Tiffany not like us? Why didn't she get to see her daddy anymore? Why did that man look at you weird on the train, mommy?  I wish she would just stay this little. That she never needed or want to know the harsh truths about me, us.

"I..." I wracked my brain for an answer and just came up short. I couldn't think of a way to sugarcoat it. We almost had a mate. Mates. We almost had a pack that would have walked you to school on the mornings my feet were too sore or I was already running late. They would have loved you. "It... it's complicated, Darling." Is what I chose instead. The other worrisome fact is that Winnie was too young to understand the concept about mates. I had never broached the subject which only means she probably heard it from some little shithead at school. 

Wonderful.

"I'll explain it when you're older." I promise, closing my eyes and letting her snuggle into the crook of my arm. "Do you wanna rest your eyes with me?"

"Like when I'm five?" She asks putting one of her hands underneath my shirt onto my belly. It had become a thing she had started since I told her about the baby.

"Maybe six." I said, looking down at her. She gave a yawn before closing her eyes.

"I think five is better."

"Okay, Win." I said. "When you're five we'll talk about it." It was a promise I hoped she would forget. But I didn't want to negotiate with a four-year-old about something future me could deal with. I wanted just 15 minutes of this. I order Alexa to set a timer to make sure we haven't dozed too far off. Winnie still needed to shower and eat. I still needed to get the groceries out of the car. But I could spare another 15 minutes.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Perfect.

Pairing/AU: Soft Boyfriend!Joel Miller X Curvy AFAB!reader , no outbreak.

Words count: 3612, One shot.

Summary: Basically Joel worshipping you and your curvy body ❤️

Warning: +18 only because there is a little bit of smut in the end (Joel 🍽️😺), nothing too serious but still. Reader is curvy, has wide hips, big breasts, has hair (not specified how long or what color it is or anything), has a freckle above her upper lip. Age not mentioned but they’re both fully grown adults. Joel is the cutest and loves you deeply like anyone has ever done before. (If I did things right you will end up crying a little bit, hopefully)

We talk about not accepting ourselves, seeing ourselves as ugly, having a bad relationship with a parent (mom), briefly about bullying and in general about how society perceives non-conforming bodies and how sometimes we convince ourselves that we are wrong. I don't go into much depth but there are still some passages that I feel are truly mine, so you are warned. I don’t want to trigger you, I want you to feel beautiful and valid and one of a kind and special. All of you.

I was toying myself with the idea of a story about Joel and a curvy reader and this came out. I wrote this at 2am after listening to “Pedro” and “Glow” by Omar Apollo with tears streaming down my face, it’s probably full of mistakes (English is not my first language, no beta reader because it’s 2 fucking am and I should sleep like everybody else in my time zone instead of doing this DAMN!) so I beg your pardon, my brain is a mess right now.

Most of all, I hope you will like it, let me know! Thanks to anyone who will read this.

You wake up in bed alone and you stretch your arm on the other side of the bed feeling it empty and cold.

Joel is out for work, meeting a big potential client who wants to renovate his huge mansion.

Obviously he has to try to get the job, but you feel like he's been forever away when he's only been gone for two days.

Your bed feels so large without him in it.

You grab his pillow to try to inhale his scent, just a little tiny bit of him that still lingers on it.

Your man smells amazing, even when he come home after a full day of working in a construction site you’re madly aroused by the minty, sweet, sweaty essence of him.

You don’t care that he’s covered in dust and rubble, you just throw yourself in his arms and take his mouth that rightfully belongs to you and only you and you feel so lucky and blessed to have him in your life.

You had so much troubles with your love life.

You’ve never been skinny, to begin with.

You always had a discomfort with your appearance, your friends were tiny and cute while you were just standing there being ignored.

You had a very almond mother that didn’t waste a chance to remind you how big you are, how much you need to take diet more seriously and become the skinny person every guy wants to marry.

You suffered from that until you were an adult and you could afford going to therapy.

It helped you a lot.

Embracing your body and shape was a long and difficult process but it was worth it.

You gained so much confidence and learned how to be kind to yourself.

But you still had difficulty with boys, growing up you learned to notice strange guys at first glance, after a series of failures with gym fanatics who wanted to change you, older men who wanted to control you and cowards who kept you hidden as if they were ashamed of you.

And then, one day, you met Joel.

While you were looking at him from the other side of the bar too shamed to do anything he walked towards you.

You immediately thought that he was coming to talk to your skinny friend that was with you but no.

He wanted to spoke to you.

That big strong man, broad chest and shoulders, wavy dark brown hair and eyes like the most delicious chocolate cake introduced himself and asked if you wanted something else to drink and the last thing you know you two were talking about everything for 3 hours straight, totally immersed in each other.

You barely noticed that your friend tap your shoulder to tell you that she was going home.

You mentally took a note to apologize profusely to her the following day but you really didn’t want to leave.

It felt too good to be with Joel, talking to him was so easy and he melted your heart in a way you didn’t experience in a long time.

You really didn’t want to give up on him.

You have so much in common with him and he made you laugh and you felt cute and confident and it really worked like magic.

He made sure to compliment your outfit and your hair and your pretty eyes and he made you feel so good about yourself.

You noticed the way he was smiling and looking so intensely at you, he was hungry and turned on by you.

You couldn’t believe that this handsome man was so into you but couldn’t ask for anything better.

You never really parted ways after that first night together, he was a perfect gentleman, took you home on his truck and he never tried to touch you until the two of you arrived at your door.

He was saying goodnight to you when you heard him whisper “oh fuck it” and he kissed you, no longer holding back. It was a perfect kiss, full of desire and passion and you could feel his need for more through his lips and the way his tongue found its way into your mouth.

You felt vulnerable and weak as if he really saw you, beyond appearances, beyond fences that you have built to defend yourself, in the most hidden part of yourself. And you didn’t mind feeling that way in front of a man, in front of him.

You knew it was right.

You could feel it in your bones.

You wanted to drag him inside the house but you stopped just in time before completely losing control.

“I don’t do this at first date, you know” you whispered in his ear while he was kissing your neck giving you shivers down your spine.

His mouth was eager and insatiable, nipping at your skin like he was starved, but again, he was a real gentleman and didn’t do anything you didn’t wanted.

He was fully respectful of your boundaries and conquered your heart with patience.

At your fifth date you were so thirsty for him that you couldn’t even get to the restaurant.

He knocked at the door dressed in dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt that hugged his biceps and his chest in a way that drove you completely wild, you took his hand without saying a word and run to the bedroom dragging him with you with no shame whatsoever.

You didn’t care about manners, dinner that was booked the week before, whatever else that could delay that moment.

You just wanted him.

You felt safe with him and this made you even more horny.

He fucked you wildly and then cuddled with you in the sweetest way ever.

Your heart was full, your body soothed and your thirst quenched.

You moved in together after 6 months of the most fulfilling relationship you had ever had.

Joel has his flaws, he is stubborn, when he is angry he can barely speak and mutters under his breath, he doesn't know how to cook, he's messy and leaves his dirty socks on the carpet in the living room, sometimes he's way too protective and it drives you crazy the way he always tries to warn you off from everyone as if you're not used to assholes.

Minor things compared to how he makes you feel anyway.

When he loves, he loves deeply.

He showers you with compliments and nice gestures, he’s a grumpy with a heart of gold.

And he’s handsome. So handsome you can’t believe that he’s your man even if he makes sure to tell you how beautiful, smart and sexy you are everyday.

You yawn and finally decide to get up, you head to the kitchen and make yourself a coffee.

It’s Saturday and Joel is supposed to come home in a few hours.

After breakfast you do some chores and cleaning around the house.

You go to the supermarket to buy ingredients to make his favorite dinner.

And then you decide to take the afternoon to yourself, you take a long bath and relax in the tub listening to music lulled by the hot water and the scent of bubble bath.

Once out, you decide to wear the dress you wore on your first date with Joel.

You remember perfectly how he looked at you and you feel a shiver down your spine. You haven't worn it for a while and as soon as you put it on you discover that it is too tight on your breasts and hips. You know you've gained a few pounds since you've been with him, you're relaxed, you're happy, you don't care, but you really wanted to give him a perfect evening and this makes you nervous. You look in the mirror and fall back into all the negative thoughts about yourself. It's a fragile balance.

You're still navigating the middle of it, even though you're much better.

You take off the dress and put it back in the closet, hidden, where you can barely see it, hoping bad mood will pass even though you know it has completely ruined your day.

You start cooking, leaving the decision on what to wear until later.

You like cooking and have always been successful at it, your grandma shared all her recipes with you and teached you all her secrets.

Your mother just told you the calories in everything you cooked.

When everything is ready you go to get dressed, you stare at your clothes for what seems like an infinite amount of time, sighing. In the end you choose another dress, black, narrower at the waist and wider at the hips. It leaves your legs uncovered, it's not like the other one but it still suits you so you make the best of it.

You’re spraying yourself with your favorite perfume when you hear the keys turning in the lock and you instinctively run to the door.

As soon as he opens the door you don't even give him time to enter and you throw your arms around his neck.

“Hi sweetheart” he whispers in your ear as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tight against his chest “did you miss me?”

You can hear a little laugh in his voice as you reply “of course, I couldn't wait for you to come back”

You take his lips with urgency and just feeling his scruff brushing gently against your cheeks and your cupid bow makes you feel better.

He tastes sweet, he’s warm and familiar.

He never fails to make you whole.

When you're with him it feels like the world is turning right, like things are all falling into place, magically.

One look is enough for him to understand you.

His tongue makes room into your mouth so easily and intertwined with yours and you’re lost in his embrace.

When you finally part to take breath he’s grinning and watching at you with burning desire in his eyes.

“I missed you too. Let me see you, sweetie. I want to admire my beautiful babe in this dress”

You instantly feel better and do a pirouette laughing to make him look at you.

“Jesus, hun, it’s really amazing on you”

You walk up to him and give him a kiss on the hairless part of his beard, then take his lips again.

You moan into his mouth when his hands move to your ass, stroking it gently then squeezing it.

“I love your ass babe, so full and juicy and soft”

You whine at his praise, kissing his jawline and his neck.

You rest your face on his chest enjoying his warmth.

“It's amazing how you always make me feel better. I felt like crap a few hours ago." you murmur.

“Why, love, what happened?” you can clearly hear concern in his voice.

“I wanted to wear the dress I wore the first time we went out…but it's too tight now” you whisper, a little bit ashamed.

He cups your face with his hands, looking at you with sweetness.

An incredible sweetness that instantly melt your heart.

“Don’t be sad babe, a dress is just a dress, it doesn’t fit you anymore? Who cares. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I’m so lucky to have you”

You want to cry, but you don't, instead you take his lips back into yours, grateful to have a man like that by your side.

No one has ever made you feel more loved than him.

You kiss him intensely, so much that you're almost breathless, but it doesn't matter.

You feel his erection pressing against your thigh and you can't wait any longer, you even forget about dinner already being prepared and he doesn't seem worried either.

“Can we go to our bedroom already? I need you so bad, Joel” you pant against his skin.

“Whatever my love wants” and he take you by the hand “I definitely need to remind you how much I love you and how incredibly sexy and lovely you are. Come with me”

He takes you to your bedroom without stopping to hold your hand and makes you sit on the edge of the bed.

He looks you in the eyes as he caresses your cheek with his knuckles. It's incredible how delicate his big hands can be.

He trace the outline of your jaw with his fingertips never stop looking at you.

He then moves to your neck, placing his hand right under your ear, his fingers hidden in your hair.

He leans down to kiss your nose and your lips, so softly.

“Babe, you’re the most precious thing I have in my life, I don’t know what I would do without you”.

His voice is low, slightly hoarse, it surrounds you like a hug, it goes straight to your heart, every little intonation that characterizes it, how it glides over the vowels and caresses the consonants, his breathing, that warmth that emanates, that sense of familiarity and comfort, his sensitivity and his inner strength and his fragility that he is not afraid to show.

He lowers the straps of your dress and makes you stand up just for a moment to let it fall at your feet, sliding it over your hips.

He makes you lie down on the bed, while he also undresses, remaining in his boxers. He climbs onto the bed and lies down next to you.

“Never forget how gorgeous you are, please”

His hand slides over your breast, still covered by your bra, he searches for your nipple and takes it between his fingers, pinching and pulling it gently.

“I love your tits, so big and perfectly shaped” and he kisses you there. “I love your pretty face, and your smile and your sparkling eyes and your luscious lips.” Each word is followed by a kiss on the body part he just mentioned “And your silky hair. And this freckle right here. Above your upper lip. I would do nothing but kiss it all the time. I love the smell of your skin and your taste, so sweet.”

You can't believe he's doing this, he's literally worshipping every part of you.

“I love your incredibly sexy hips and thighs."

His lips move over you like velvet, like butterflies flapping their wings on your skin, so impalpable and yet so real.

“I love every inch of your body, especially those that seem too much to you. And of course I love your intelligence and how you laugh at my stupid jokes that never make anyone laugh. I love that you’re funny and sarcastic. I love the little wrinkle that comes between your eyebrows when you concentrate. I love the way you squint when I say something about my work that you don’t know. I love the way you look at me, I love hugging you and feeling your breathtaking body on mine.”

Joel isn't one for many words, he generally prefers action but now he's a river in flood and looks at you haunted.

It's an incredible feeling to have him all to yourself, to have the certainty of being able to trust him blindly, without the fear that he will turn out to be like everyone else you've been with.

No one has ever treated you this way before, with devotion, as if your body were a priceless treasure.

You yourself were mean to this body, you hated it, you tried to change it, you cursed it and cried because it didn't look like anyone else's when the only thing you wanted was to be like one of your friends.

Thin. Impeccable. Someone who fits any dress and who has never heard "we don't have your size". One who wasn't laughed at, treated like a joke, one who everyone looked up to, one whose face people didn't throw pies at and call a whale or a monster.

Joel knows all this. You told him. And everything he's ever tried to do is exactly the opposite of what they've always done to you.

An ode of love to you, to your body, to your soul.

He moves between your knees, settling at the end of the bed.

He leaves a trail of kisses along your inner thighs moving up and up towards your pussy, his beard deliciously rough on your skin.

He smiles at your already wet panties, at the unmistakable stain that spreads across the front.

You wore a cute white lacy pair with matching bra that he bought to you last Christmas.

You sigh in anticipation as he takes the time to stroke and tease your clit through the fabric with just one finger.

He then slides his fingers into the sides of your panties, he makes your hips rise slightly and takes them off, smiling at you.

You gasp as he buries his face between your legs kissing your folds so softly, he stick his tongue out and lick your lips and then part them with two fingers and kiss your clit.

You moan loudly and feel his smile widening on your skin, he’s so good at this and he knows that you love the way he does it.

He takes your clit in his mouth and suck gently.

“You’re so wet babe” and he kiss your lips again “so good for me, the perfect woman”

He teases your hole with his tongue, just the tip, while his thumb circle around your clit.

Nice and slow, a steady pace that makes you whimper against his face.

You grab his hair pushing him even more against your pussy, whining in pleasure.

You feel his beard crawling across your skin, you know it will redden your skin but you don't care, you don't care about anything now.

He continues to lick you, up and down and then back to your clit, his large hand splayed on your tummy.

You've always been ashamed of your tummy.

He adores it. He always tells you, he likes to touch it and he likes to kiss it and he loves that it’s so soft and fluffy.

He groans as you tug his hair and increases the pace, making his way into your hole with two of his thick fingers, stretching you and searching for the spongy spot that always makes you feel on fire.

You raise your head slightly to look at him and see his eyes staring at you mischievously and proudly, he likes looking at you, he doesn't want to miss a second of your pleasure.

He’s again on your clit with his mouth, swirling around it with his tongue.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, you whine again and again more and more loudly.

He doesn’t stop.

“Joel I-” your voice cracks in an attempt to say something “God, I just can’t”

“Yes, you can, babe, just come for me, I want to feel it. Come all over my face”

you whine, squeeze his head between your thighs, your hand tucked in his hair “Joel!”

You feel a heat radiating inside you, your orgasm building as he gives you no respite.

“Come on baby, give it to me” he whispers softly on your skin.

And you do. You explode at his praise, at his begging for you to give him what he wants.

You pant loudly as he doesn't stop licking you until you calm down.

He comes back next to you and kisses you. You taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, you're all over his face and it drives you crazy.

“Fuck me Joel. Fuck me now, please” your voice comes out almost desperate.

He looks at you, nodding without saying anything else, takes off his boxers and climbs on top of you, making you spread your legs to make room for himself. He takes his cock in his hand and rubs it on your clit. Once, twice, three times, wetting it with your pleasure that slid down to your inner thighs.

“You want my cock, babe?”

You nod repeatedly looking at him with beg in your eyes.

“Tell me how much you want it”

“I want it, Joel. I want it so bad. Please”

He enters you effortlessly, even though he's big, much bigger than any man you've ever had.

“Always so tight for me, God, you’re so amazing”

He wraps his arms around your torso and pulls you up to sit on top of him, he’s sitting on his heels, his cock still inside you.

He kisses you deeply, his tongue licks hungrily into your mouth, he holds you tight against his chest, you moan into his lips feeling you totally enveloped by him, your arms around his neck, ruffling his hair, your thighs around his waist.

His cock burns in your center, he moves his hips to sink into you, deep.

You feel like you're one, you're totally drunk on him and it's an overwhelming thrill.

He fucks you like this, holding you close to him, each thrust harder and harder, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.

You fill your nostrils with his scent, his masculine unmistakable scent, the one you were missing this morning.

The scent that smells of home and comfort and caresses and the purest love you've ever felt.

It’s here now.

And it’s yours.

You end up hugging each other on the bed, tired but incredibly happy. You are still held in his arms as he whispers “I love you” into your hair.

You look up and look him in the eyes and you know it's true.

"I love you too.”

[khakirnelm]

From an incorrect quote generator

If Melody was a human tho

Phoebe: WHAT’S YOUR TYPE Melody: Anything, honestly, but nerds especially Phoebe, desperately, as Melody bleeds out: YOUR BLOOD TYPE Melody: Oh! B positive. Phoebe: DONT TRY TO CHEER ME UP JUST TELL ME YOUR BLOOD TYPE Melody:

-

Phoebe: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming Melody: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak

-

Phoebe: Whaddya call a fish with no eye? Melody, not looking up: Myxine Circifrons Phoebe: Phoebe: fsh

-

Phoebe: So what's for dinner? Melody, staring at the food she just burnt: Regret.

-

Callie: I left instructions for everyone while I'm gone. Phoebe: Mine just says "Phoebe no." Callie: I want you to apply it to every possible situation.

-

Trevor: Not elegant enough to be a vampire, not jock enough to be a werewolf... Phoebe: Goblin it is.

-

Trevor: My head hurts. Phoebe: That’s your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity.

-

Computer: Please enter a password. Phoebe: *types in Melody* Computer: Your password is too weak. Phoebe: How fucking DARE YOU-

-

Phoebe: So what are your political beliefs? Podcast: Well, I think Pikachu would be a lot more powerful if he had a gun.

-

Callie: You spent all our money on THIS?? Gary, putting tiny raincoats on ducklings: They live outside. They need this.

-

Phoebe: Why are you on fire? Melody: This is just how my day is going.

-

Podcast: Change is inedible.

Phoebe: Don't you mean inevitable?

Podcast, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

-

Phoebe: .. .----. -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.--

[translation: I’M SORRY]

Callie: What's that?

Phoebe: Remorse code.

Callie: I'm even angrier now.

-

Phoebe: I don’t do relationships.

Melody: *exists*

Phoebe: Shit.

-

Trevor: Kissing can burn 26 calories in a minute, wanna work-out with me? ;)

Lucky: Are you saying that I'm fat?

Trevor: No that's not what I meant I-

-

Phoebe: Podcast... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?

Podcast: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned.

Phoebe:

Phoebe: I wrote sanitize, Podcast.

-

Callie, tending to Trevor’s wounds: How would you rate your pain?

Trevor: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend.

-

Peck: I'm going to ask you to be respectful. Phoebe: I will politely decline.

-

Podcast: I’m having one of those things! A headache with pictures!! Phoebe: you mean an idea..? Podcast: MMMMHHMMM!!

-

Phoebe: English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though. Trevor: You need to stop.

-

Phoebe: How did none of you hear what I just said? Callie: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours. Gary: I got distracted about halfway through. Trevor: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

-

If Melody was a human, again

Phoebe: HELP! I TOLD MELODY I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK! Trevor, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

-

Podcast: What if I press the brake and gas at the same time? Phoebe: The car takes a screenshot. Trevor: For the last time, get the fuck out.

-

Gary, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him Callie: You did WHAT– Phoebe: William Snakepeare

-

Trevor: You look nice, I want to kiss you. Lucky: What? Trevor: I SAID IF YOU DIED, I WOULDN’T MISS YOU.

-

Gary: The best revenge, really, is being nice! Podcast: [in the distance] Or murder.

-

Gary: That’s one of my biggest fears. Like, if I ever woke up as a donut... Callie: You would eat yourself? Gary: I wouldn’t even question it.

-

Phoebe: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO- Melody: It was me... Phoebe: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

[badaseyebags]

private lessons ⋆｡°✩ chapter 4 ⟢

warnings: poor writing as i had a lot going on and low-key forgot i was even working on anything, new character makes an appearance, tiny bit of angst

word count: around 1,8k

authors note: y’all i’m not dead yet unfortunately, anyways here’s to all the baddies that are still reading 🫶🏻 you have a special spot in my heart (right next to bada’s eyebags) - 🍞

little shoutout to @luvleyk for motivating me to write again 🫶🏻

your feet swung around as you slowly sipped on your iced coffee, lips lightly wrapped around a glass straw. you thanked bada for the sweet treat, while bada thanked herself for deciding to take you here. what she deemed as a “nice gesture” was a way of preventing herself from straight up pouncing on you. you weren’t the only one who’s had sleepless nights after your “private lessons” with her. she’s reminded of it every time she walks past her dining table, sits down to eat or drinks her coffee. she keeps reminding herself to not let this go too far, not to fall in too deep, before it’s too late. she has a reputation to keep. she knows she can’t go all in, just yet. and being in a public setting saved her from doing so.

if she wasn’t your teacher could this be considered a date? you thought to yourself looking up at her, stealing glances at her and seeing her give you a soft smile in exchange. you look down immediately, shaking off the thought as it made you realise the situation. why do you always forget the actual reason she meets up with you? freaking tutoring. she’s your goddamn teacher, get a grip you crazy woman.

“oh my, is the coffee that good?” she chuckles, catching you off guard with her hand resting on her chin as she admires you, making you snap back to reality and realise you’ve been sucking on air for a while as you’ve already finished your coffee without noticing. you mentally face palm, closing your eyes in embarrassment, letting the straw go in a swift motion. “umm yeah! it was! i think they maybe might be putting… something illegal in it-“ you tried covering up your act of distraction once again.

“aww, even better than the one i made for you? that’s such a pity. i made it with love.” she fake pouts, pretending to act hurt by your words. “no! what? definitely not! doesn’t even stand a chance! yours was soooo much better, i just didn’t get the chance to fully drink it because i-“ here you go mumbling again, being too honest because you’re nervous. thankfully you stopped yourself before you could embarrass yourself even further, but fate of course made other plans for you.

“poor thing, couldn’t finish her coffee because her lips were too busy tasting mine. is that it?” she chuckles enjoying the way your eyes widen slightly, back to sipping on the straw with nonexistent coffee, the ice making your overheated brain freeze. oh how she loved teasing you, the way your body and face respond to her without you having to say a single word. she wouldn’t admit how weak she was for it, for you. “i’m just messing with you sweetie, we both know that was my fault.” she assures you, hand smoothing over yours gently. as she enjoyed your company, she almost didn’t notice the strange figure standing across the table, looking at the both of you from a sight distance. what the hell is he doing here? she shoots him a warning glare, not going unnoticed by your admiring eyes, filling them with worry.

“huh?” you turn your head in curiosity, trying to follow her gaze, but she grabbed a hold of your chin before you could do so. you could only look up at her, confusion painting your features. “shh.. don’t you worry about that, sweetie. it’s someone not important. you don’t have to wrap your mind around it.” your eyebrow furrowed in more confusion, causing her to coo at you. “i don’t want you to stress your poor little brain. it’s just someone from the past. but you’re my present, okay? that’s what matters.” she leans in closer, whispering to you reassuringly. oh.. is it her ex? you were so curious what she looks like, why they broke up, and why she doesn’t want you to see her in the first place. is it because you’re her student? is it because she’s just playing around with you? you’d surely hope not..

many questions flood your mind as you hear footsteps approaching you, seeing her face twist in pure irritation. “stay still for me, princess.” she mumbles under her breath as her thumbs make their way against your lip, the rest of her hand cupping your face as she presses her lips against them, the barrier between your lips both electrifying and slightly confusing. oh how you wish to feel her lips against yours, to have them stained bright red instead of her thumbs that shielded them..

she strokes your lip gently as you obey, closing your eyes monumentally. you hear a rough voice scoffing mumbling out a few curse words. huh..? a man? it’s a man? her ex is a man?!! your eyes open, searching for hers in approval as she nods at you, her lip stroking your bottom lip as she slowly pulls away. “good girl, did so well for me without asking..” she offers you a relieved smile as the figure walks from her sight, a soft sigh leaving her lips. “mrs. lee who was-“ you try asking her what this was all about, but she shushes you with a simple word. “nono, you don’t get to ask any questions right now. as i said.. don’t wrap your pretty head about it, hm? such a pretty girl shouldn’t worry about things like these.” you chew on your bottom lip, nodding at her despite feeling slightly hurt by her actions. why didn’t she just kiss you for real then.. is it because you’re in public? did she not want to? or did she just use you to make her ex jealous? so many questions flooded your mind but she was quick to calm you down, grabbing your hand and gently guiding you up, taking you back to her car. you sigh thinking you ruined the mood and she’s going to take you home. she opens the door for you, and sits down next to you, not putting on a seatbelt on either of you, puzzling your mind.

“now tell me what’s on your mind honey, what’s making you sad?” she turns her body to you, giving you all her attention. oh, she took you here for your comfort and privacy, what a woman. you chew on your bottom lip, looking at her red painted lips and back at her eyes. “why.. did you pretend to kiss me?” you stutter out, trying not to sound weak. your question caught her off guard, her eyebrows raising in panic. “i’m sorry sweetie, i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, i should have warned you.”

you shake your head fast, tears threatening to fall any second. “that’s not that i mean..” you look down, trying to keep yours emotions in check. why were you getting so hurt over such a thing? it’s not like you’re a couple or anything. “what did you mean, sweetie? come on, use your words.” she lifts your head with her finger on your chin, eyes meeting yours. how can she fluster you in such a situation?

“why didn’t you kiss me for real? were you ashamed.. or something?” you manage to get out as tears cloud your vision, feeling pathetic for having such feelings. she gasps not expecting your reason to be this, she was afraid you didn’t like the fact she tried to kiss you, yet the truth was far from that. “oh you silly little thing.. you thought i didn’t want to kiss you? the only reason i took you there was to restrain myself from kissing you again” she frowns seeing yours tears. “baby.. i would never want to make you cry..” she speaks out gently, her thumb stroking your cheek, rubbing at the tears staining them. “at least not in this way…” you look up at her with teary eyes, lost and about to question her words, but she crashes her lips against yours, making you gasp. more tears slide down your cheeks as you finally feel her lips on yours after what felt like ages of agony and torture of not tasting them. the faint aftertaste of bitterness from the coffee coating your palate becoming sweetly addicting to you. she strokes your cheek, hand gripping your jaw as she deepens the kiss, leaving you gasping for air as she swallows it all up. the windows of her car becoming foggy with every passing second of her lips devouring you. she pulls away, her eyes slightly watery at the sight of your tears drying up on your cheeks as she pulls you into her lap, her uneven breathing matching yours like a melody.

“never… say that again…“ she breathes out, the grip on your jaw becoming stronger as she pulls your head in closer against her lips again, coating them in tender kisses. “how could i not want to kiss you? do you even know how hard is it for me not to push you up against my table and kiss you ever time you walk into the classroom? claim you as mine? let everyone know you only belong to me?” you gasp looking up at her, her red lipstick smeared across both of your lips as you shake your head at her question.

“exactly sweetheart, you have no idea about so many things.. and they aren’t for little girls like you to worry about. be a good girl and leave them to mommy.” she breathes against your lips, hand gripping your waist making you feel like putty in her hands, being able to only nod at her command. you swear you feel yourself getting dizzy, the earlier feelings of sadness long gone and replaced by extreme waves of warmth spreading through out your whole body. she gives you one last passionate kiss, this one more gentle than the previous ones as she pulls away, resting her head on top of your head, twirling at your hair as you try to calm your breathing.

“you fit so nicely in my lap, you know that?” you blush at her remark, hands wrapped around her neck as you look up at her with glossy eyes, fingers reaching out to rub at the corners of her smudged lips, wiping away at the messed up lipstick the same way she did when you first kissed. “then don’t let me leave it..” you whisper, feeling one of her hands grip your waist harder as she looks at you in awe. as if she was in a trance. whatever spell you put on her was working, you’ve officially broken her and made her melt. all hopes and plans she had beforehand were no longer a choice, thrown out the window along with any rational thinking as she crashed her lips against yours once more, hand cradling your head, unable to hold back her desire anymore.

[everythingne]

looking in a mirror - still waters (op81)

Oscar and Daisy meet again ahead of the season, alone, before they’re accompanied by their trainers, and find common ground in the calm before the storm.

(series masterlist) fcs: // archie madekwe (rhys) / ruby campbell (y/n / daisy)

oscar piastri x reader series

-

"I still can't believe he'd do that to me!" Sebastian's head perks up at your voice, followed by the slamming of his front door, the broken hinge he still needed to fix making slamming actually necessary for once. You had become a staple in the Vettel household in the past two weeks. Between breaking up with your long term boyfriend, starting your f1 career, and needing to move to Germany, it had been a lot.

And now he's staring down Mark Webber who calmly takes a sip of the coffee Hanna had made him with a tiny shrug. Sebastian hears you kick off your shoes, pause to greet Hanna in the foyer, and the three Vettel children who happily babble to you for long enough for your anger to dissipate as you make your way through the house to where you know Sebastian will be perched in the kitchen as per usual.

"She speaks like you during Red Bull." Mark hums into his coffee and Sebastian sends him a look that has the Australian holding up a hand in surrender with a soft laugh through the coffee in his mouth.

"Mark Webber?" You query in the doorway as the Australian snaps his head to you, giving a polite smile to your bewildered expression.

"What an honor to finally meet the second woman Sebastian doesn't shut up about," Mark reaches a hand out to gently shake the one you lift to him, Sebastian rolling his eyes.

"No no, honors all mine!" You smile, gently setting down the paper bag of groceries you'd been sent to get, "Sorry I'm a bit scatter brained at a moment, a lot has been happening."

"Ah, Oscar's the same--ow?!" Mark is cut off by Sebastian punching his shoulder, and your eyes narrowing at the man who had inadvertently raised you through sponsoring your karting since age nine.

"Daisy," Sebastian says in the voice that would make most people think you were in trouble as he crosses his arms and leans on the counter, "Mark's here for a meeting with me, about Porsche's strategy next year because... Porsche is making negotiations with McLaren."

You blink, "Oh..." You look at the obvious tension between the two retired drivers and slowly sink down into the seat you usually find yourself in, "...kay..."

"Sebastian, she's not five." Mark scowls, setting down his coffee, drawing your attention to how he's using one of the many mugs you'd bought Hanna, "Porsche and McLaren have made a deal to sort of... trade their drivers. They're trading Rhys for Oscar. You won't be racing on a team with your brother this season."

It doesn't take a keen eye to see the way your body tenses, hands tight around your phone as Sebastian realizes he should've asked if you were on a call. You hastily hang up with whoever you had been calling, setting your phone face down and leaning your elbows on the table. Hands tangled in your hair, messing up the time you had spent with the hot comb in the bathroom this morning.

When you let out a slow breath, Sebastian hates the way your voice strains as you ask, "Since when?"

"About..." Mark checks his watch, "Six hours ago? Oscar isn't even aware yet, I think he's still with his sisters for his Mom's birthday. Didn't wanna bother 'em."

"Why would Rhys do that?" You head snaps to Sebastian and he stammers, he detests the tears that line your eyes and threaten to fall. The tears that Mark takes that as his cue to go find something interesting in the hallway to stare at. He squeezes your forearm in reassurance as he passes behind you and out of the room, and as your head in buried in your hands you can hear the scratching squeal of a chair as it's pulled to your side. Sebastian settles his hand between your shoulder blades with a soft, soothing rub, watching as you cry, and try to force yourself to stop, just to cry again. It had been a tough few weeks, and he knows this isn't the easiest thing for you to hear.

"McLaren gave Rhys money Porsche didn't want to give him. Porsche gave Oscar money McLaren wasn't going to give him. It was an easy natural trade." Sebastian tries to simplify it. He doesn't want to get into how in the past two seasons, even though Oscar was performing amazingly for how young he was in the sport, McLaren was neglecting him in favor of Lando. And McLaren, unlike how they had done it with Danny, were good at making it all seem well. Oscar didn't complain, he was already quiet, and it took Mark intercepting and getting in a blow out argument with Zak for Oscar to even notice the blatant favoritism. McLaren wanted Rhys purely because Porsche wanted Oscar, and Rhys was enchanted by the money before he even thought about leaving you behind. But he doesn't bring that up. He can't bring it up even when he tries because the lump that forms in his throat is impossible to speak around.

He especially doesn't bring up how Mark was the one to ask about Oscar in Porsche, he doesn't want to damage anything before you'd even started.

"Rhys left me for money, then." You mumble into your hand, looking up through your lashes at Sebastian who just rubs your shoulder and pulls you to slot under his chin and between his arms like usual.

"He didn't want to leave you. I'm sure." Sebastian is sure that Rhys did. Rhys knew you were a better driver than him, had told Sebastian such during the argument before he'd signed off to McLaren, and he felt like he could get more of a spotlight in McLaren then under you. He holds you for a little bit longer, until Hanna comes in to sit with you, and he can slip off to the hall where Mark leans against the wall on his phone.

"Oscar's not taking it well either." Mark shoves his phone in Sebastian's face, showing the constant stream of confused messages from the now Porsche pilot, how he wasn't even aware the change was finalized.

"I think it will all flatten out once they meet." Sebastian tries to sound optimistic, but Mark's soft head tilt tells him that he just missed the head of the nail on that.

"We'll see." Mark hums, before lifting his phone to his ear and greeting Oscar on the other line.

--

Mannheim is gorgeous, at least you have that going for you. Porsche's new extension of the motorsports center is nicely furnished and you've been settled on one of the various soft chairs facing one of the large bay windows for a while now--soaking in the warm sun.

The footsteps behind you make you crack open your eyes and peer over your shoulder as Oscar slowly approaches, laughing to himself softly when he sees you looking.

"Thought you were sleeping." He says idly, sitting in a chair next to yours and you hum, stretching like a cat just woken from a nice sunbath nap.

"Wish I was, the sun feels amazing." You reply softly, glancing over at the Australian, eyes tracing the freckles that are now more prominent from his extended time in the sun. You and Oscar were never super close, just mutual friends through Logan, both of you sort of the introverted companions to your loud-mouthed American friend. Oscar doesn't say anything in response, just looks down and picks at the skin by his nails, so you continue.

"Bet the sun feels better in Australia."

"Feels worse," Oscar replies, "gives you a burn before you can even get sun tan on you, and burns your retinas before you can get sunnies on."

"But the glow I would have would be unstoppable." You chime, earning a soft chuckle.

"Yeah, probably. Your glow now isn't too bad though."

Back a few years ago, any compliment from Oscar would make you blush--and make Logan receive probably thirty spam texts of mush. You'd had a crush on the Aussie in your teens, between racing and hanging out with him and Logan, his charm was top notch. But, what you had failed to realize was that he was not interested in dating until Logan had to softly break the news to you.

You had successfully swallows your pride after a good two pints with Rhys and Logan in a back corner of some shitty Austin bar, and a pint or two of ice cream when you'd gotten home, and started dating your (now) ex-boyfriend, Andre Boucher, a week or so after that season had ended.

Six years ago.

You crossed one leg over the other, looking over at the man who'd been holding your heart for years, and found your mind made you rational. Luckily.

"Sorry for being a bit of a blow-in on your season with Porsche." Oscar says when he notices you've been trying to find words to say, ever observant as he pressed on, "I know you really wanted to have your maiden season be with Rhys, but he was like... off his head when they were telling him about all the money they'd give 'em. I felt bad but Mark kinda made the decision it would be best for both of us to swap. I just hope they treat him better than they were treatin' me."

You're quiet for a long while, trying to still the insult brewing in the back of your throat in defense of Rhys but honestly, you hadn't even spoke to Rhys about it yet. Letting out a soft sigh that turns into a whistle, you rub at the irritation headache forming across your temple.

"Feel free to tell me to piss off whenever." Oscar hums and you shake your head.

"It's not you. Trust me, it's not." You grumble, leaning forward, "Rhys has always been chasing the money and the limelight since we were kids. I know he loves his work here but sometimes I wonder how much is a love for racing and how much is a love for money--not to just... dump all of this on you."

"I know what you mean. Sometimes that money just gets to your head. Give Rhys time, I reckon he'll come back 'round." Oscar nods to you, then looks down at his watch to some text that pops up on the screen and he huffs.

"Mark pushed back the meeting two hours, wanna go get lunch? Apparently theres a really good ramen place just down the road. A lot of the interns have carry out from there." Oscar stands and you smile, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"Sounds perfect to me."

-

oscarpiastri made a new post!

liked by a.boucher, rhyspearce, m.webber, and 359k others...

oscarpiastri: one week out from the season... woah. heres what mark and seb see vs what they dont (us eating out half the time instead of following the meal plans we have been told we NEED to follow)

tagged: msdaisypearce

sebvettel: im gonna kill both of you

⤷ msdaisypearce: seb no pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls pls !!!!!

m.webber: I honestly don't know what I expected from you two.

landonorris: we never had teammate dinners........ </3

⤷ oscarpiastri: stop being a little bitch in my comments

user1: stop they get lunch together let me CRY

user2: daiscar supporter since 2018 wheres my damn medal!!!

rhyspearce: gl not having her steal ur kitchen ever five minutes

⤷ oscarpiastri: unfortunately ur sister is too good of a cook to ignore

⤷ msdaisypearce: aweeeeeeee staph itttt

user3: daiscar nation RISEEE

logansargeant: get a room

⤷ oscarpiastri: L

user4: so like. are they dating.

⤷ user5: bro pls they've been on a team together for like two months and have been friends for YEARSSSS.

[tsukasalover]

I can think of a lot of reasons why I like and have gotten attached to tsukasa more than any other fictional character and i think if i had to keep it simple (or else id be rambling for hours) id say

1. He’s so interesting. I usually pick up the extremely mischaracterized blonde characters anyways but he gets my brain working real hard. its almost 2am and i cant think straight but theres something about his duality that keeps me glued to him and the amount of Layers he has and how removing even one layer or completely ignoring how both his huge ego and kindness + selflessness coexist can really mess up your perception of him. There was something quite short i wrote about how both sides make him. Well. Him. back when his colofes dropped since i was so annoyed at the people Not getting it (while most never even read the STORIES 😁) anf ive been screaming this for a year now Please. Also the way his dream and being a good big brother go hand in hand have captured me. I really like fictional siblings and they fill something personal i miss and Looove looking at the roots of characters. Discovering where this and that and connecting events to what started their behaviors or helped their personality bloom. So seeing saki and toya play such an important role in his life keeps me HOOOKEDDD. I took the bait like tiny fish. Dont regret it. Never will. I like my fictional characters like layered cake. Thats basically how i see them. I had a yummy chocolate cake with so mant layers the other day 🤤 but anyways. I also really like when characters have to learn and grow as people after making really bad mistakes or being straight up assholes so it really took a while even after mainstory but once i got to see more of him with saki and read dazzling i was like. This is the guyyy. Youre mine now lets go. I dont like perfect characters but.. you see.. when characters who have (sometimes way too much) confidence and are dramatic yet are shown to truly be good people who enjoy making others happy… alright.. now im listening… Sign me up…

But really he has almost everything I’ve ever looked for in a character. Starting with the fact that he’s a theatre kid. And blonde. Of course emu nene and rui + more fictional characters have made their way into my heart and ive gotten attached to them on very Very personal levels but when it comes to this Idiot who wants to be a star and reminds me of a dog its something that i dont even know how to explain sometimes. Why is he here? What are you doing inside of my head. Ill never have one solid answer because he takes up too much space in my mind and i become incoherent too often when talking about him.

2. Ignoring my first answer, He is ugly. My favorite punching bag. Cartoon character. Begins floating when he smells pie. I dont know anymore

3. he just like me fr (Which is terrible i dont like that)

[good-beanswrites]

A second drabble of "Fuuta goes to get a 3am snack and Es is being Weird" LOL. I love @waivyjellyfish 's hcs of inhuman Es, and they would 100% use this to torture Fuuta. Nothing overtly supernatural happens, which just adds to his pain that it's all technically possible, but still creeping him the fuck out 😂

Fuuta blinked the grogginess from his eyes, the fridge light nearly blinding him. He shifted around some leftovers, picking out something that looked appetizing. He peered over his shoulder. It was the dead of night, and he’d hate to wake any of the others. Unfortunately, he had no such luxury himself. His grumbling stomach didn’t care about his need for rest. 

He placed a bite of cold food in his mouth. 

He closed the fridge door, revealing Es standing behind it. 

His coughing masked the sound of horror that would have come out otherwise. He’d leapt backwards about five feet, narrowly avoiding throwing the food directly at the warden’s darkened figure.

“You didn’t choose my cooking?” was all Es said in response to the mortifying reaction.

“The fuck are you doing!? I didn’t even hear you come in…” 

One would think that those clicking heels and collar of jangling keys would make Es into a walking noisemaker, but they were surprisingly silent everywhere they went. The prisoners had often joked about Es’ catlike steps. Fuuta in no laughing mood, now.

“Don’t you have a lot to do tomorrow?” He tried to shake the uneasy feeling swirling in his gut. “You’ve been talking about it all day, I thought you’d want as much sleep as you could get.” 

“I don’t sleep.”

“Does it look like I care that you’re drowned with work? That’s your own fault for trying to handle ten prisoners all by yourself. You’re not getting any pity from me.”

“Eh? No, I mean, I don’t sleep.”

Fuuta paused. “Stop fucking with me. I’m too tired for this crap.”

“I mean it. I was already awake when I heard someone up, I just wanted to investigate.”

“Bullshit. There’s no way you heard me from all the way down the hall, through that heavy door of yours. You’re probably hungry, too – but don’t get any ideas, these are mine.” He moved to the counter, transferring the food to another dish to heat. 

Es followed, their icy eyes flicking between him and the food. 

“You really prefer Mahiru’s cooking that much more?”

“Of course. Yours sucks. Don’t think I’ll give you any fake flattery just because you’re the warden.”

“I figured you would want me in charge of the kitchen instead of Jackalope. I’m just trying to help.”

“Tch. I’m pretty sure you’re trying to kill us.”

“With my cooking?” A smirk stretched across their lips. “There are easier ways to kill a person.”

Es stared at him, that odd smile on their face.

Fuuta tried to smother the shiver creeping up his spine. 

They had to have been messing with him. This is just how a bored warden gets their kicks, he figured. They sneak up on unsuspecting prisoners in the middle of the night and say ominous things. They just liked bringing up murder to get under his skin. And of course they slept. They slept, ate, and – he looked down at the dish of food. He had seen them eat, right? He wracked his brain for any memory of it. It would explain the poor-tasting cooking…

“Ah!” Es’ voice made him jump for the second time that night. He followed their gaze over to the doorway, where Jackalope was hopping into the dim kitchen. 

Es began to speak into the silence. This type of craziness, at least, was a familiar one: their insistence that they could speak to the little animal.

“I know, I know. … Yes, of course. I’ll be finished here in a moment.”

Fuuta’s gaze flicked between the pair. Tiny, black, beady eyes. Large, pale, round ones. Jacklope’s twitchy little nose. The way Es seemed entirely motionless.

“Whatever. I’m going to bed.” Fuuta grabbed the dish and stormed out of the room. He avoided meeting either set of eyes. Let them have their crazy, creepy conversations in the dark by themselves. He was out. 

Es’ voice echoed into the hallway as he hurried back to his cell. 

“Goodnight, Fuuta…” 

Fuuta tried not to look like a little kid running back through the darkened corridors, but he certainly didn’t take his time.

The sheets rustled around him as he got into. His back pressed against the cell wall, so he could keep an eye on the entrance. He strained his ears to listen for any unnaturally quiet steps.

Then he looked down at his food.

He had completely lost his appetite.

[whumpfish]

Extractions! (Tooth vs. Nail)

I've been wanting to do this one for a long time, for all you torture fans out there...

So I metabolize lidocaine like a motherfucker, and any time I get a local, I always have to get a second one halfway through whatever is being done. For the most part, doctors and dentists listen to me when I say this... for the most part.

Tooth

(The oral surgeon did not give me my second shot when I asked for it.)

1. Any fillings you have will collapse under the pressure of an extraction, even a medicated one. (I'm not sure if this is true for metal ones; all of mine are plaster.) It produces a half-crunch, half-thunk sound that reverberates in that half of your skull and sounds absolutely terrifying.

2. The pain of an unmedicated extraction is acute and radiating at the same time. The acute part feels more like having a stiletto stabbed upward into that space than a tooth taken out in a downward motion.

2a. In maxillary extractions, the stab goes straight up, and depending on the location of the tooth, that stab can feel pointed anywhere from your eyeball (frontmost) to right into your brain (rear).

2b. Mandibular extractions* stab downward from the chin (frontmost) to the hinge of your jaw and straight down your throat (rear).

3. The radiating part spreads like a flower blooming, from a concentrated central point outward in a rolling movement.

4. Your ears might pop like an airplane taking off as that blooming pain reaches the hinge of your jaw. Sometimes only in the one ear.

Nail

(I have been doing minor self-surgery** for years because I am genetically predisposed to ingrown nails, and if I don't catch it in time, they grow straight down and I have to extract them to be able to trim them. If I really don't catch it in time, they grow straight down and then curl backward, and I have to get an actual surgeon involved.)

1. Self-surgery, split off edge of nail, 0 to 1/2" down and backward: You have to wiggle these in a sawing/rocking motion back and forth in order to get that tiny bit of root to let go, and when you "saw" backward it feels more like a steak knife than a butter knife, this time moving with the direction of the nail. Then it reverses when you actually yank.

1a. The yank hurts more than the sawing, sharp like a stab from a steak knife instead of one being pushed in slowly.

1b. You will get the best whump out of a whumper splitting off the edges of the nail and doing this and then yanking the middle part

2. Medicated: Locals in the toe/finger area hurt like a bitch. They're sharp and needling like a stiletto to a paper cut, then if someone tried to pry that cut open. At the same time, they feel hot, almost burning. (Hotter than anesthetic being pushed through an IV, if you're familiar with that sensation.) And there are so many nerves involved that just the first round of locals takes 3-4 shots.

3. Unmedicated, grown down and backward, 1/2" to 3/4": The last time I went in, my surgeon said "given the amount of times I have to shoot you up, you'll probably hurt less if I just yank." (She was right.) This sumbitch goes in both directions, down/back from where the root is, then forward. The down/back is a stabbing pain. The forward is like somebody trying to pry open that papercut, a sensation probably caused by the fact that you are in fact messing with something stuck in a very small cut in the skin, in my case the cut was just caused by the nail that has now been removed.

4. If it is a toenail extraction, you are going to bleed significantly more than teeth or fingernails, because your body has to work harder pushing blood up through your leg veins than it does pushing it down into your shoe. Especially when you take a step. Ibuprofen makes this worse. If you take ibuprofen at all that day, expect your shoe to fill up when you take a step. (Mine did, scaring the tar out of everyone present, including me.)

Pain Intensity Verdict:

Teeth > Nails. By a LOT.

Happy yanking!!

*Because of nerve fuckery, dentists using the sonic cleaning tool despite my warnings results in a pain on the level of extractions, and the sensations described here are based on my experience with that.

**This never fails to horrify my friends. They'll see what I'm fixing to work on and say, "Oh ouch, that's bad, go to the doctor," and I'm just like "nah, just get me isopropyl alcohol and some office supplies, I got this."

[mrs-kodzuken]

Art Frustration ♡

Pairing: Kōshi Sugawara x fem!reader

WC: 1.8k

Genre: fluff

CW : fem!reader, fluff, comfort for frustration, art frustrations

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

Once again, the paper was scattered with useless and chaotic drawings. It had seemed to be as if my brain couldn't handle anymore pathetic scribbles.

The frustration grew in my head as I tore another piece of paper up and groaned loudly.

It's simple really, art is supposed to make you feel relaxed and at one with what you're making. It's something to release the feelings and emotions you have into something that explains you.

Well this wasn't the case with me.

I haven't had a good crumb of inspiration for the past two weeks. As an artist, that can put a lot of pressure on you when you draw almost every day.

Especially when I have so many expectations that I've set for myself and I'm not even managing to reach them.

There were so many ideas swarming in my head but I just couldn't put it on paper. It would come out as something not even definite, which is so not the look I was going for with this piece.

Taking a deep breath, I set up a new sheet and paused. I tried to differentiate an idea with how well I could get that idea on this page without frustrating myself again.

My hands started marking on the page with a very simple sketches. I, unfortunately, erased those lines upon lines frequently. Feeling my anxiety getting the better of me as I really wanted to draw but couldn't.

It was getting to the point of hopelessness for me. My tiny sketches here and there, they always started out small. I could feel the tears pricking my eyes as it wasn't going the way I wanted it to, just like the other fifty million times.

I couldn't see a good clear idea in my head to form what I wanted to express on the page.

My emotions started bubbling up inside me like a wild fire. Irritation was overcoming me and my hands were shaking with a burning need to get something on this damn paper. It was so bad to the point where I couldn't even draw anymore.

Defeated, I let out a shaky breath that I'd been holding in. I took the paper and crumbled it up once again. I desperately wanted to throw a fit and scream like a toddler. This wasn't working out like it's supposed to .

Art is something I've always been good at, I don't know why this is happening to me now.

I banged my head on the canvas stand, practically begging for some inspiration to help me.

Finally, I had just let go of the salty tears that were bundled in my eyes as I released a quiet sob. This was so frustrating.

Sliding down the wall to sit, I sobbed on the floor. Was it too much to ask to simply draw good?

This has been the only thing I've been good at since I was little, the amount of time I've put into trying to better myself and art style feels like it's for nothing.

A soft knock sounded throughout my room from my door which followed with my bedroom door being opened.

I had guessed it was my mom since she's been the one to see me like this for almost two weeks now. Sighing with my face in my hands, I waited for the sound of her footsteps to leave my room.

But they never came.

I felt a hand on mine as it pulled my own from my tear streaked face.

"Woah, woah. are you alright, (Y/n)?" I heard, it was no one other than my supportive boyfriend, Kōshi Sugawara.

Looking up at him with so many emotions that I was feeling I shook my head no. I wanted to explain what a rut I've been in but knowing that if I even tried to explain to him, it'd be a lot of high pitched whining noises.

"Come on, let's get you off the floor, sugar." Calling me my favorite name, he helped me to my bed. Rubbing soothing circles on my back, Suga waited for me to speak.

I could tell he was examining the absolute mess the state of my room was in. Papers everywhere, my trashcan overflowing with mess of drawings and scraps. My paint bottles were open and bound to dry out if I didn't close them soon. It just looked rough in here.

"How did this happen..?" Kōshi sounded hesitant to ask, as if I could start breaking down even worse. Which I don't blame him, usually I'm a very tidy person and I never let any sort of thing screw my room like this.

Deep breaths, (Y/n). Deep breaths.

"I've been in a rut, none of my art is coming out even remotely good. I'm a f-failure. Plenty of hours I've spent on this, just for it to be worthless." I sighed and hiccupped while trying to stop the warm tears that fell.

My anxiety ridden hands carelessly played with the loose strings on my shirt to distract myself from Suga's presence. I didn't realize it yet but the embarrassment was creeping up on me. I'm having an entire breakdown because of a drawing I can' t even do.

"Hey, look at me," I felt his warm hand softly turn my head so my gaze would be on him.

"Under no circumstance will I let my talented, wonderful girlfriend call herself a failure. You just need a break, sugar. Artist block happens to everyone once in a while." He comforted me, concerned.

Wiping away the few stray tears with his thumbs from my eyes. He kissed the red marks underneath them as well.

"Break time, yeah?" Kōshi hugged me close to him, humming a small lullaby to help calm me down. Rocking me back and forth helped my breathing slow again and I was able to fully relax.

Suga had held me like that for a while and when he did that, I felt at peace.

Listening to the rhythmic music from his heart beat and very few sniffles from me were the only sounds in the room.

"Are you feeling better?" The small circles on my arms didn't cease.

I nodded giving him a small smile, gee that sure wasn't embarrassing. My own boyfriend had to see a breakdown. I cursed myself internally for even letting this happen.

"Great! Now let's get this placed cleaned up sugar." He kissed my cheek whilst his gray hair tickled my forehead. He got me up from my bed as my eyes skimmed my room.

I cringed looking at the mess I had painfully made these past two weeks. Shuffling all the torn up pieces of paper to the bin, which was already full.

Suga had fixed my easels, lining them up like I would want them in the corner of my room.

We continued to clean my room and I had felt the need to apologize to him. Also to question of why he had come over anyway, not that I mind.

"Suga? I'm sorry if you had to do something and got stuck here because of me." My dejected voice sounded in the room, I felt pathetic really.

Looking up, I was faced with his charming smile that had made me fall head over heels with long ago.

"I didn't have any plans, don't worry. And I'd always love to take care of you anytime." He sent me an air blown kiss.

I smiled back and chuckled a bit while catching it, placing it in my back pocket for later.

When we were finally done with the cleaning, I persuaded Suga to stay for dinner as an apology. Letting him help me clean my messy room was something I felt guilty for but was glad he offered.

"It's always good to see you Sugawara." I heard my mom say as I helped clean the kitchen as dinner was finished with.

"You too, Mrs. (L/n)." He responded respectively towards my mom. Suga's always been the most polite person out of the two of us.

"It's going to get a bit dark soon. You might want to head home, but you're always welcome to stay the night. If your parents have no issue with it." My mom said, giving me wink. I could always count on her to be my wing woman when I needed it.

"Ah, that's right. Thank you! I haven't even thought of the time."

Grabbing my boyfriend's hand gently, I lead him back to my bedroom. Hearing a small chuckle come from my mom and she went to watch TV in our living room.

"Are you confident to create a wonderful piece of artwork now?" I heard Suga inquire from behind me.

"I'm lacking in the inspiration department but other than that, yes, I think." I smiled at him while gathering up his coat and shoes.

"You might want to go home before it gets dark outside, hon." I passed him his things as he looked like he just got an amazing idea.

"How about I give you some inspiration?" He mischievously said. Setting his coat down on my bed, his shoes on my floor, and walked to opposite side of my easel.

Kōshi laid on my floor with one hand on his hip and the other holding his head up with a contorted face.

"Draw me like one of your French girls." He chuckled as I couldn't help but to burst out in laughter.

"Kōshi! Dear God, pray for me." I rolled my eyes at his form.

"Well at lea-." He had begun to say but I immediately cut him off at the sparkle of an idea.

"Wait! Don't move! You actually just gave me something I can work with." I almost shouted at him and hurried to get my art supplies.

Paying attention to the canvas and looking up at him every once in a while. I created an absolute masterpiece.

I had drew a picture of my dear Kōshi but he was on a serf board, riding a wave. It was silly but magnificent nonetheless to me.

When I had got done, I physically and mentally felt better. Noticing that Suga had almost fell asleep on the floor because of how long I took. I awoke him with a question.

"Kōshi, do you want to stay over tonight?" I questioned him, already walking over to my dresser getting the comfy clothes he wore last time.

"Thank you. I don't think I could walk home in this state." He gave me a small tired, but grateful smile.

"No, I should be thanking you. I'm so glad I got that piece of art done. I feel so much better, like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders."

"I'd do anything for you, sugar." He kissed my forehead and headed towards the bathroom.

I used that time to change into my pajamas, as well as turning on my fairy lights.

When he was done I had put everything away and climbed into my bed.

"You ready?" I mumbled getting into the comfortable strawberry printed covers I had.

"Of course. Goodnight sugar, I love you."

A smile graced my lips, "I love you too, so much." I cuddled against him, swarmed in blankets.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my "Haikyuu x Reader Oneshots" on Wattpad! I'm slowly trying to transition to Tumblr then to AO3! I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you want more!

the header is from Jimena Martinez on Pinterest

[protector-of-tinies]

(Audio version at the end.)

"Since we both have the whole day off, I'm going to have some fun with you," I say as I come up behind you. "Would you like to be...had fun with?"

You smile and your heart starts to beat a little faster as you turn around. Here it comes. You know that my use of the passive voice to describe the "fun" you'll be having is not an accident. You love it when I talk to you like that.

I stand close to you, and you crane your neck to look up at me. You're currently standing at your "normal" height of five feet tall...but you have a feeling you won't stay this height for long.

Is there such a thing as "normal" height for you anymore? You've been shrunk so frequently and been so many different sizes (none of which were taller than five feet) that you've become accustomed to the feeling of shrinking. During the times when you're normal-sized and living a normal human life (which has been happening less and less frequently), you often experience the sensation of "phantom shrinking." Like when an amputee's brain tricks them into thinking they can feel their left arm, even though they no longer have a left arm. Or when a cell phone user's brain tricks them into thinking their phone just vibrated against their leg...even though it's turned off. Sometimes even when you're tiny, you feel those momentary hallucinations. Even when you're a tiny, helpless little fraction of the petite person you used to be, you're expecting to shrink even smaller at any second. You're constantly off-balance. You know that you're completely mine now...physically, mentally, and emotionally. It feels so good to surrender.

You wonder if I'm going to be "nice" to you or "mean" to you this time. You love it when I'm mean. And you love it when I'm nice. You love it when I flip back and forth between the two. You love not knowing. You can never get enough, and your little brain can't handle it. So it's probably a good thing that I call the shots...otherwise you'd probably just be a tiny, indecisive, blabbering little mess.

I open my mouth as if I'm about to say something, then I pause for a full thirty seconds, knowing that it makes you crazy and that the suspense is killing you. You bite your lip as you enjoy being towered over, knowing that the tower is probably about to skyrocket even higher. Your eyes get big as I lower my face to almost touch yours and I say:

"You're going to lose height every time you blush. Every time your face flushes. Not a LOT of height...just a little bit each time."

You feel your cheeks get warm, and you immediately shrink. Looking up, you guess that you've lost about an inch. You realize what's happened, and you fight the urge to cover your face with your hands. You shrink again. Just a little bit.

"Don't fret, my little one," I tease you. "I'll take care of you no matter how small you get."

You imagine how small you're going to get, and you shrink again. I laugh, then hug you and hold you close to me. Then I put my hand under your chin and tilt your face up toward mine. I lean in to kiss you...and my lips land directly on your eyelid. You know I did that on purpose.

"Oops!" I continue taunting you. "I missed! Sorry, it's just that I'm used to your lips being higher off the ground! You're really throwing off my aim here..."

Another shrinking spurt.

"Ah, well. No kisses for you! I guess you're BENEATH me now."

Shrink.

"You know what I've always wondered?" I ask. "What is 'fun size' anyway? Like, what's the cutoff point for fun size? How small does a girl have to get before she becomes fun to play with? This calls for a scientific experiment! I'll let you know when I'm having fun!"

"Yes, sir!" You smile up at me. "I want to be fun for you! I don't care HOW small I am. Or how small I get. I consent!"

You stand on tiptoe and try unsuccessfully to kiss me, deliberately emphasizing your decreased height. Then you jump up and try to reach my lips.

"Aw, crap!" I respond. "It's no fun if you consent! Way to ruin it! I preemptively revoke the 'fun size' designation that you WOULD have gotten. If you had been a good girl."

You stick out your lower lip and pout. You slowly scrunch up your face to look more pitiful.

"Gahhhh!!" I recoil. "Those facial expressions of yours aren't normally so startling! They usually look so much more subtle. But that's probably because EVERY facial expression is a lot more subtle when it's on a face the size of a grape!"

Shrink.

I pick you up underneath your shoulders and hold you above the floor. "I'm just going to hold you like this and watch as your feet get farther and farther away from the ground. Struggle as much as you want, you little bitty thing."

Shrink.

Shrink.

Shrink.

You wiggle your little painted toes helplessly as you look down at them and watch the world expand around you. You sometimes wonder why you even bother painting them, since they're usually too small for anyone to notice the paint job.

Stop blushing, you tell yourself. Just enjoy this feeling for a little longer.

"I think I'm just going to carry you around like a stuffed animal for the rest of the day," I continue. "And squeeze you every so often. That'll be fun. My little teddy bear. Teeny bear. Tadpole bear."

Shrink.

"Please! I need hugs!" You start to beg.

"It's pathetic how completely whipped you are," I say. "You're SO easy to mess with! This is going a little TOO easily."

Shrink.

"I wonder if I should slow down the rate of shrinking, so that I can reeeeeally drag this process............"

Shrink.

"......"

Shrink.

"......out."

Time passes. Some time later, you've gotten smaller, slowly and surely. You're no bigger than any of my fingers. I'm sitting at the table, holding you between a finger and thumb, treating you like a little plaything.

"My dear, it seems like your face is getting entirely too hot! Let me help you cool down."

I dangle you over a glass of water for dramatic effect, then drop you into it. You shriek.

Taking my time, I lift the glass and drink from it.

You feel yourself shrink again. The rate of your shrinking has slowed considerably as you've gotten smaller and smaller. You're definitely not losing a full inch of height each time, like you were at the beginning. By now, there's a lot less of you, which means there's a lot less of you to shrink. The amount of height you lose with each downward adjustment seems to get proportionally smaller along with you.

I continue drinking the water around you, then finally move the glass away from my mouth, hold it upright, and peer down into it. You topple into the bottom of the glass, into the little bit of water remaining in it, which is about half an inch deep. (That's half an inch from the giant's perspective...but much deeper from your tiny perspective.)

I absentmindedly slosh the water around in the glass, and you along with it.

I call out to no one in particular, and the surface of the glass around you amplifies the sound of my already huge voice. "Waiter? One 'mar-tiny', please! Sorry, I meant 'martini'. Shaken, not stirred."

I slosh the water in the glass one more time for good measure and look down at you.

"Also...waiter? There seems to be a FLY in my soup! Water is basically soup, right?"

You shrink, and shrink again.

I put the glass down on the table with a decisive "thud" and stare at you with a smug smile on my face.

"This is just way too cute," I say. "I should keep you like this and put you in a glass all the time...so I can admire your tiny beauty."

You feel hot, and the most intense blush you've experienced so far washes over you. You feel yourself shrink. This isn't fair! Your giant REALLY knows how to push your buttons.

More time passes, and some time much later, you're lying on the table, completely worn out. You're desperately trying to catch your breath, after the emotional day you've been having, and then you see a huge white thing appear in front of you. It's a giant tube. Your eyes follow it up and up, all the way up to the giant's mouth. It's a straw. After all this time, you're now tiny enough to fit inside a straw. The opening is wider than you are tall.

You scream as the straw moves toward you, and you're immediately sucked up into it. You scream louder as your journey through the straw suddenly stops, and your whole body hits something soft. It's happening almost too fast for you to process anything, but you think you're against my lips now. I must have sucked you up and closed my lips just enough so that you didn't fly into my mouth.

I hold you in that position for a second, tilting you upward so that gravity holds you directly against my lips. Then the white plastic disappears from around you, and you shriek as you fall into my hand that's waiting underneath you.

"That was a kiss," I say. My titanic voice causes your bones to shake. "You were pressed against my lips, so technically, it was a kiss. I decided you had earned it."

You cover your face with your hands as you feel yourself shrink. You wouldn't mind doing that again.

"Now, my dear little one," I continue. "My adorable little speck. How many kisses would you like? And how many different ways should I do it?"

You shiver all over, and you're shrinking again. And there's a small part of you that hopes you never stop shrinking.

(Question for my tiny readers: how many times did you shrink while reading this? 😉)

[serendipnpipity]

#WADGALA Meetup

Hello, internet! My name is [Ser]. (lol sorry, Dan...)

I started watching Dan (and Phil) in spring 2018, lucky enough to catch the last PINOF and the start of the hiatus (whoops). Back then, I didn’t realize how much these two random British YouTubers would impact my life, but I knew they were a source of comfort and could make me smile on bad days. None of my friends knew about them at all, but I remember one sleepover, making my best friend huddle around my tiny iPhone 5S to watch “My Bahamas Travel Disaster” at 3am because it was the funniest thing in the world. The joy it brought me had to be shared. I still think about it every time I go through the TSA. 

And maybe there was something about Dan’s airport mishaps that really spoke to me, or maybe it’s just his knack for engaging storytelling that also made “I Nearly Blinded Myself” cement itself into my brain as *the* standard for narrative construction. The amount of times that goddamn pistachio muffin has crossed my mind while writing college essays, applications, even my own stories, because goodness that’s clever usage of a narrative callback for closure. (Side note: the pipeline from trying a pistachio muffin to loving anything pistachio flavored ever now is very, very real. Anyway.) Through that video and countless others, the hot mess of my existence looked less like the end of the world (ha) and more like a trove of stories worth laughing about and learning from. I could safely store my embarrassing memories in a drawer for later instead of locking them in a box and throwing away the key.

Of course, speaking of locked-up secrets in boxes, I could go on for quite a long time about how much BIG and June 2019 healed the baby queer kid just barely starting to allow others to see and accept her… but a lot of us have been on similar journeys, so I’ll spare you the extra ten pages. I will say that it will forever be funny to me that Dan came out almost exactly a month after I came out to my mom, though. That definitely made me feel less alone.

Fast forward five years later, I’m still here. Lucky enough to coincidentally hop back onto tumblr on the day of the great gaming channel comeback after a year of being away and just in time to watch We’re All Doomed with all of you! All those years ago, I didn’t realize two random British YouTubers could have such an impact my life. But looking at all this…

I’m so glad they did. 

Thank you, @danielhowell!!! Joke all you want about consistent uploading schedules, you have literally been a constant in my life since I was thirteen. I've never met you, yet somehow you've made me smile again during some of the roughest times of my life, and isn't that pretty darn amazing? I hope you know how much you've impacted the world, 'cause you've surely impacted mine. Thank you for that.

[existencebringsonlypain]

tag system below! any other info you need is in my description.

#existenceunrelateds - posts not directly related to the Owl House (most content lately)

#reblog - my reblogs. used in conjunction with other tags.

#re: tags or #re: prev - I'm responding to the tags from the previous reblog. Open their reblog to see what I'm responding to. Also, if a tag is prefaced by ←, that means all the previous tags are from the prev reblog, and all tags following it are mine. I may on occasion forgo the previous tags altogether, and if so, just hit previous reblog. If there are two, prev also uses this system.

#nutdealer posting - posts about or relating to undertale or deltarune, cuz my brain decided it wants to fixate on those. Dw, toh's staying, they just share room in my head, and the nutdealers are taking priority. This tag will not be used in conjunction with #existenceunrelateds, so if you only want owl house content, you can block both. I just don't want to complicate things for myself

#existence is unhealthily obsessed with queso - I rate queso for some reason. Mostly going to be chains within just Florida, or southeastern USA.

#cephaloposting - I just HAAAD to go out and learn splatoon lore and now I'm in fairly deep. tag works the same as nutdealer posting, pearlina is adorable, I'm team Callie, Order and Future, and if Frye doesn't get another win before the game stops having splatfests I'm gonna be pissed. that being said, I like bread best

#carbohydrate before you carbodiedrate - my new mutual/shenanigannery tag. don't ask. I'll almost definitely forget this a ton, so a general rule is if I'm reblogging to talk to mutuals or other people a lot within a short period of time, it'll be there. or if i'm replying repeatedly in the tags. or if spectator brings up bread again.

#negative - this one's been in effect for some time, but it was infrequent enough that I didn't think of adding it. This is not necessarily ANY negative post, more posts that could seriously affect someone reading them. Because of this, a good chunk of Palestine-related posts are tagged with it. Not all of them, though, only the emotionally devastating ones.

#personal shit - Personal shit. Usually doesn't apply to the occasional vaguepost or question, more complaining about situations happening in real life or asking for advice.

#geek figuring stuff out - I'm still pretty young. I won't tell you how young, but young enough that I don't know myself all too well. This tag may contain Gender Confusion, Romance Confusion (Or Lack Thereof), Sexuality Confusion (Or Lack Thereof (??)), Inability To Visualize Confusion (See: Aphantasia), and Medical Confusion (Dehydration, Malnourishment, and More!). Additionally, this is where most nsfw content will go, if it's not body positivity or sex ed. Or me reblogging thirst traps for my lesbian followers.

alright so I'm entrenched in undertale and deltarune, which means I also tend to get homestuck content. I have no idea what the fuck homestuck is about but I know a lot of people love it and a lot of people hate it, so I jokingly tag any posts relating to homestuck with #cw homestuck. this is a joke and not intending to belittle any homestuck fans- I'm an undertale fan, I can't judge.

speaking of, any time I'm tagging posts with warning, I'll usually do two to four variations on #cw [xyz thing here]. I use cw much more often than tw, since it feels more inclusive to any reasons one might not want certain content on their dash. make sure if you've blocked the tw version of the tag, block the cw version as well.

Regarding accessibility and related things, I try to alt any image I post that is more than like. a cat photo for just my mutuals to see. If you would like me to add an alt to any of my posts, just ask!

I also tend to mess around with unicode a lot, to make fun emoticons or ᵗⁱⁿʸ ᵗᵉˣᵗ (plaintext: tiny text). I'm guessing screenreaders don't appreciate that, so I can plaintext my posts for you if you'd like. Usually these things will be in my tags, though, so it's not too important.

Related: If you notice I've somehow typed a comma in my tags, it's not magic, it's unicode! There's a unicode character called single low-9 quotation mark (U+201A) that displays like this:

‚

It looks exactly like a comma, and it works in tags! Feel free to copy and paste at your leisure, or add it to a keyboard shortcut like I did.

also sometimes I'll use whitespace characters to fine-tune spacing in my posts, for example to make italics look better than whatever tumblr's got going on. for example:

uncorrected: I don't like this (space between don't and like is too short, between I and don't too long)

corrected: I don't  like this (using varied lengths of whitespace characters, spacing is fixed)

tell me if that fucks anything up

[perplexingluciddreams]

Old phones!

I ask mum and dad to have all old phones and dad bring the box! I love to play with these as a kid (just pretend, don’t really turn on). A lot have missing batteries or charger cables or is just broken/dead. But some I get to turn on and charge and work! It is funny that the very very old Nokia phones still work but the much newer Samsung ones is completely dead.

[image description: a chaotic picture of many old phones, some smartphone, some flip phone, some with buttons and only tiny screen, all scattered on the floor. There is a box with a mess of cables that is partly in the photo at the edge. End ID.]

I find cute kid pictures of me (and my sister, but I don’t post those), here is a few of just me. It is a bit funny that so many things is the same, like my posture! I hold my hands the same positions and same hypotonia (low muscle tone) posture in the third picture still today. (It looks like exact same as picture you get on Google when you search “hypotonia posture” and it is cartoon image of a child sitting like me in third picture 😂).

[image description: Ezra at about four or five years old, sitting in car seat with pink long-sleeve top with big purple spots, bumblebee over-ear headphones that have yellow colour with black stripes on ear parts, and chunky bead necklace. Picture is very zoomed in and pixelated, because it is from old Nokia phone. End ID.]

[image description: very zoomed in and pixelated picture of young Ezra sitting with his hands up at shoulder height and wrists floppy so hands bend in towards each other. He have a bit of popcorn hanging out his mouth. He is wearing a pink short sleeve top. His teddy bear, Marmalade, sits on his lap and there is a pillow behind him with blue bubble pattern pillowcase. End ID.]

I still have those bedsheets!! On my bed right now, in fact. They are so soft and I love them. And of course still have Marmalade, but he is a bit older looking now!

[image description: very zoomed in picture of young Ezra sitting in slouched position, with hands together in between his legs and feet pointing downwards because his toes only just reach the ground. He is wearing a pink flowery top, grey leggings, and pink shoes with Velcro straps. His hair is shoulder length tied back in a low ponytail with a flower clip at the side. His head is turned away from the camera, and his back is very curved because of his slouched posture. End ID.]

I remember these shoes vaguely. I think they were sparkly.

[image description: young Ezra, about five or six years old, eating a hot dog with ketchup. He is holding it in a napkin. He has pink butterfly face paint, and is wearing a pink short sleeve top. His hair is messy and windswept and has a blue clip at one side to attempt to keep it tidy. It is not tidy at all, and one piece of his hair is almost in the ketchup. End ID.]

[image description: a very pixelated image of a very young Ezra, about three years old. He is wearing a long denim skirt, pale purple long sleeve top, and a flowery headband to hold back his hair. He is kneeling on the ground next to a bookshelf, and tilting his head with a slight smile, biting his bottom lip. His hands are clasped in his lap, holding something that is not clear in the picture. The image is extra unclear because of the light from the window behind. End ID.]

Those are the cutest pictures I could find, there is more but that is only what I want to share.

Unfortunately when I go through one of the phones that used to be mine, I find old pictures and things that is scary and upsetting and I get very scared. Mum have to come and help calm down. It remind of bad memories and make brain very loud. I need to go and change it and delete things (like old wrong name, and bad pictures and videos with bad people or at bad place or at bad time in my life) from that phone at some point, but not today, too much overwhelming.

[livelynumbskull]

@musesbykai

It had been a long day for Neophytos.

A nearly ten hours drive all through the south of California, from San Francisco to the state of Nevada, the final destination being a small town near Las Vegas named Blue Diamond. Really tiny town, population less than 500. From what Maüka could tell him about it, the locals are pretty friendly and there were plenty of trails to hike. Old mining town, not a lot to do there but the views are amazing.

A perfect place for a shady deal to happen, if he was honest about it. Apparently, to develop the latest project of Vale Corps, the brains behind it needed a rare component that hasn't even hit the open market yet. He wasn't given too many complicated details, being only an errand boy, but Maüka assured him the project would be a good thing for society, and not meant to harm anybody.... Or so they claimed.

The ones with the patent to the component were from Denver, Colorado, a small group of rowdy nobodies who were trying to become real top dogs. If the project was successful, they'd be given a share of the incomes, which would allow them to start their own thing. If not, well, boo-hoo.

Reaching the town was pretty easy, but maneuvering through it? Neophytos had fun watching wild burros come and go across the street, taking a moment to enjoy the beauty of nature behind the wheel of a borrowed old gray Chevrolet. Heck, there was even a sign telling people not to mess with the animals, which he appreciated.

The meeting area was an old, abandoned shed -- classical and cliché, decided by the newbies. He'd seen so many movies that this type of thing was expected of those who didn't know how real things worked. It'd be an easy job: get there, introduce himself as an errand boy, pick up the thing and go home. So, he did.

Maüka, however failed to mention one last bit.

"I seriously didn't know about your deal with Maüka, I'm just here to pick up the component and go." A half-lie, but anything to get them to point their guns elsewhere. Neophytos stood there with his gloved hands in the air, switching looks between all five of them.

Maüka didn't mention they were supposed to have a down payment. At all.

He silently cursed them as he heard them demand the payment once again, one of them even picking up their cellphone to call his parent. Shit.

Long day. A veeery long day that he wished had ended in a good note, and not his possible death.