this was a productive afternoon


2/100 Days of Productivity 

Spending my Saturday afternoon studying for pathophysiology. This is one of my favourite courses that I’ve taken during uni. I’m hoping I finish everything in my to do list early, so I can relax later tonight. 

Also, I hope everyone has a productive weekend! xx



friday 12.5, semester six, week seventeen

Technically, I shouldn’t be counting semesters and weeks anymore, since my last exam of the year/degree was on Tuesday. Ever since Wednesday, my life has been filled with paperwork for next year and my ‘home’, job hunting, cleaning, tidying etc… I also managed to finish two novels (The Upside of Unrequited, and Last night I sang to the monster) and two TV shows (Dear White People, and Sense8) in the past ten days, but that’s not being really productive, is it?
My plan for this afternoon is: organising my notes (because revisions time put a mess in my stuff) and packing my bag for a weekend at my best friend’s, in the city where she studies, with other friends!
EDIT: Lovely desktop by @emmastudies (that I also use in black on my phone)

The Weaver

*continues to throw things at you because Reasons, mostly to do with the fact that this is awesome*

There was once a girl at Elsewhere who spoke to spiders.

She would study their webs, snapping pictures with her cheap instant camera and, later, studiously recreate them with graphite and ink. For the first eight weeks of freshman year her roommate hated spiders, then one evening she opened the door to see ‘him’ feeding the tarantula that had taken up residence in one corner. She never mentioned the odd teeth or the hollowness of his back, and quietly moved all the iron out of the room, bit by bit (except for the bracelet she wore and the old washers she hid in her pillows).

That was when she started weaving.

As a child she had been the one who came home with muddy shoes and dirt smeared on her face and clothes, only willing to take a bath when her father (single, divorced, but still won sole custody - a rarity in 1960’s America) demanded it of her. She grew into the girl in the oversized sweaters that were as comfortable as they were ugly, the sleeves stained with food, ink, and occasionally blood, and never paid attention to what anyone else said - mostly because she never heard. The bloodstains might have been from picked pimples and accidental nicks from the whittling knife she kept hidden in her shoe, but nobody else knew that, and she was a tall girl - six feet even - with the broad shoulders of a swimmer whose father taught her how to punch and kick and scream. So when she went to Elsewhere, the textile industry was the last thing on her mind. She wanted to be an artist, to carve stories and emotion out of wood blocks.

But then, on her first day, she found a large, hairy, potentially deadly spider sitting on her not-yet-made bed when she came out of the bathroom. She shrieked, of course - the spider was nearly the size of her pillow - and grabbed for the plunger next to the toilet (school plumbing was always going to be shit, no matter what school it was). She did not, however, try and hit the spider - don’t hurt the animals, even the bugs was one of the first things the told you at Elsewhere, right after wear your iron and keep salt in your pockets.

So instead, she took a nervous step forward. “Do you need help?” she whispered.

The spider didn’t nod - couldn’t - but the feeling brushed past her face like faint tendrils of web. Yes.

She swallowed nervously. “What do you need?”

The feeling brushed past her face again. Take me.

Her face blanched as certain meanings of the phrase came to mind as she immediately tried to scrub the images away because oh sweet Jesus NO. “Where…where do you need to go?”

Under the hill.

She swore (in Latin) - but the spider rode her yellow rubber plunger to the entrance under the hill, and when she woke up the next day she found a shawl folded neatly at the foot of her bed, made of a strange, silvery material - soft as a daydream and impossible to damage.

She switched her major to textile production that afternoon, and if you needed something stitched or mended, she was always willing - for a price. When she left, she moved back home and started up her own business, taking in customers both humanly and inhumanly strange, accepting payment in oddities as well as in the swipe of a credit card. Everything is handmade on a wooden loom, and everything has its place.

Everything has a story.


Mark Imagine - Office Visit (Smut)

A/N - Before I got this request I had never imagine ceo!mark and now I have and my world has been enlightened. Thank you, sweet anon for this wonderful gift of ceo!mark

hellloo, may I please request a ceo!mark smutty imagine? it could go anywhere you’d like! thanks a lot ~

Visiting Mark in his office was always enjoyable for you. Because you were aware of when his lunch breaks fell, you could easily go and visit the office building and see him. The main receptionist had quickly learnt who you were and was more than happy to see you when you did come in. Mark’s assistant was never quite as happy to see you, possibly knowing that you only acted as a distraction for Mark. His productivity always went down in the afternoon after you spent time with him. Usually he’d take you out somewhere for lunch nearby but on his busiest days, the two of you would just eat in his office. Recently, Mark had been stressed out from a recent project. He was tense and constantly tired and exhausted. When he came home to you at the end of the day, he’d be too tired to do anything and would just want to sleep. Today you were visiting him with the intentions of helping him relax a little, right from the comforts of his own office. 

 As you walked through the building and greeted Mark’s assistant, you asked if it was alright to go in. She happily told you he was alone in there and that he wasn’t exactly himself.
“He’s not been right all week. He’s stressed out, (Y/N). I think Mr Tuan needs you to just help him relax a bit.”
“I’ll do what I can. He’s been so exhausted these past few days too.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. Now go in and see him, he’ll be happy to see your face instead of mine.” You knocked on the door and stepped in. Mark looked up and his face lit up.
“(Y/N), I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
“I thought I’d just visit since you’ve been so stressed and busy recently.” Mark was now stood right in front of you, allowing you to see the bags under his eyes. He hugged you and rested his head in your neck. You returned the hug and leaned in to his ear.
“Lock the door, I’m going to help you relax and the last thing we want is someone coming in.”
 "Oh so that’s why you’re here. You want to distract me from work, baby girl?“
"Of course. You’ve been too tired to do anything at home and your baby girl as been wanting to have you for a little while. It’s not fair depriving me the pleasure of having you inside me.”
“Well I suppose we’ll have to fix that then, hm?” His voice was dripping with seductive tones that had your knees threatening to buckle beneath you. Mark knew just how to make you melt right before him. And you were more than happy to let him play with you however he wanted.

Within seconds, Mark’s lips were attacking your neck, his fingers travelling high up your thigh beneath your skirt, lurking dangerously close to your aching core. Mark could sense just how much you wanted him and felt a strong desire coursing through his veins. If he didn’t take you right there and then, he might just go mad from how much he needed you. Within what felt like seconds, enough clothes were discarded for Mark to fully immerse himself in your dripping core. He was practically aching with much he wanted to be inside of you. The thought of you clenching your muscles around him as you climaxed was almost enough to bring on his own release. Not wanting to waste what little time you had, Mark pushed you against the wall and aligned himself at your entrance. He smirked, biting his lip and pushed himself into you, stretching out your tightness. It took everything within you not to moan out loudly. The walls were pretty thin and you didn’t want all of Mark’s employees to hear your moans of ecstasy while your boyfriend, their boss, had his way with you. There were some things you didn’t want people to hear.

Mark’s hips worked back and forth, allowing you feel every inch of his length as he hit your sweet spot that would normally have you screaming in pleasure. The added challenge of keeping quiet only heightened the tension and Mark was definitely feeling it too, judging by the prominent veins in his neck as his strained moans left his lips. You tried to roll your hips in time with Mark’s thrusts, both of your actions getting rough but sloppy as your climaxes threatened to wash over the both of you.
“Come on, baby girl. Cum for me,” he purred, angling his thrusts so that you had no choice but to mewl in response. You released at his seductive voice, the clenching of your muscles encouraging Mark’s desperately needed climax. His lips clamped down on your shoulder as he spilled into you, losing all sense of himself as he tried to keep from alerting the whole office with his groans. You ran your fingers through his hair as you both came down from your highs, breathing still erratic. 
“Relaxed enough now, my love?” You hummed into his ear, letting him hear every essence of pleasure you had just felt in your voice.
“Hm, I think I’ll need you on that desk, legs spread so I can feast on you before I can relax fully.”
“Well it is your lunch break, after all. You deserve a treat as sweet as me.”
“And I plan to enjoy your sweetness, my love.”

Another great little story by @blackenedyew

I hope you all enjoy it!


Dad was standing out in the garden with his shit open, rubbing his hands over his massive belly. He didn’t know I could see him from the kitchen, but that made it even more arousing. He was slowly moving his hands in circles over his lower belly where the baby was sitting and where I knew he was feeling the strongest kicks.

He hadn’t been sleeping well recently, due to the increased activity of his rambunctious baby, and his doctor suggested getting more sun to increase melanin and melatonin production. So nearly every afternoon, when he got home from work, Dad would plop himself down in the sunny garden, open his shirt, and bask in the warm rays.

I would usually bring him something small to eat when he was out there, and once I caught him idly running an ice cube from his lemonade over his massive protruding gut, his eyes closed and his dick so hard I could see it straining through his slacks, leaving a big wet spot near the head. Today was no different; when I got home from class I saw Dad out back and I fixed him a sandwich and a glass of water. When I brought it to him, though, he rested the plate atop his huge belly and the baby gave a violent kick that made him whine out and sent the plate flying. As I bent down to pick it up, I saw he had undone his pants to give his ever-growing pregnant gut more room. The kick must have been in a well-placed region because he was rock hard, and steadily leaking precum.

I glanced up and caught his eye. “I think I’d better wait until dinner,” he said, “but why don’t you get the lotion and massage this big aching gut of mine, and calm down that little beast inside?” I just grinned, and told him he could have whatever he wanted.


If you want to submit a story of your own, message me! :)


[21 mar. 2016] getting ready to get down and be productive this afternoon! hopefully i can finish everything i had in mind and start this week’s bujo spread ☺️ ah! also some good news! i *almost* aced my hush test, but i did far better than i usually did on the test so i’m proud of myself :’-) i was a little worried but honestly all the work paid off! plus, today’s momentum wallpaper is absolutely beautiful haha. i hope your week started off well too! 💖

Maya Deren (1917-1961) was a Soviet-born American artist, and one of the most important experimental filmmakers during the avant-garde in the 40s and 50s. She was also a photographer, choreographer, dancer, and poet.

Her most famous film is the 1943 production Meshes of the Afternoon, seen as a masterpiece of the American avant-garde. The film won the Grand Prix Internationale at the 1946 Cannes Film Festival. She left behind many other films, as well as influential essays on film theory.

Sweater Weather (Ninette)

Pairing: Nino/Marinette

Rating: E (sexual situations) 

A/N: Late for Ninette Week but right on time for Think Outside the Lovesquare Month! 

Designs tucked under one arm and a bag of groceries dangling from the other, Marinette fumbled with her keys for a full minute and a half before the door swung open of its own accord and a wave of tomato and basil wafted out to meet her.

“Open,” Nino said, holding out a spoonful of brimming tomato sauce for Marinette to sample as she waddled in, passing him the grocery bag as she did. Marinette arched up on her tiptoes, thoughtfully smacking her lips as she sampled the sauce.


“More basil, right?” Nino said, reaching down and wiping sauce off the corner of her mouth with the corner of his apron.

“Yeah, that should do it,” Marinette said, dropping her bag on the kitchen table as Nino fished the roll of “French” bread out of the grocery bag with one hand while sprinkling some more dried basil in the sauce with the other.

“Little wine too?” Nino said, pulling out the bottle of merlot and looking over the rim of his glasses at the label. “Nah, this is too good to cook with; we should break out the-”

Marinette took the bottle from him, jabbed a steak-knife into the top, and yanked the cork out in one fluid motion. Nino’s eyebrow arched over the rim of his glasses as she took a long drink straight out of the bottle, wiped her mouth on her sleeve, and offered the bottle to Nino.

“So it was one of those Fridays, was it?” Nino asked, taking a sip out of the bottle and passing it back to Marinette.

“You have no idea,” Marinette sighed, ripping off a hunk of bread and dunking it in the pot of sauce on the stove. “Two finals due in two days and the workrooms at school are packed.”

“Yeesh, you gotta work still?” Nino asked.

“A little bit,” Marinette said, taking a huge bite out of her sauce soaked bread with an approving nod. “Perfect.”

“Thank you,” Nino said, giving the sauce a stir as Marinette filled a second pot with water and placed it on the stove. The chill of the evening was beginning to sink in, the heat from the kitchen steaming up the windows as the skies outside darkened.

“Gabriel isn’t giving you too much of a hard time?” Marinette asked, fishing a packet of spaghetti out of the bag.

“Nah; just a couple of shoots in the afternoon and some post-production touch up work,” Nino chuckled, pouring himself a glass of wine. “I think I’m getting better at Photoshop than I am at taking pictures at this point.”

“Don’t tell me it’s only taken you a year to get jaded with the ugly world of fashion,” Marinette chuckled, bumping Nino’s hip and wineglass with hers.

“It’s a wonder how you and Adrien don’t get burned out,” Nino said, taking a thoughtful sip of wine. “I mean, how do you deal with the fact that your designs might-”

Nino trailed off as his and Marinette’s phones buzzed simultaneously. Sharing a glance, Marinette checked her phone with a small groan.

“Don’t tell me,” Nino sighed, turning his sauce off and covering it. “Our friends are at it again?”

“Uptown,” Marinette groaned, taking another long sip of wine straight out of the bottle. “Police are on the scene…god, I so did not need this today!”

“Do we ever need it?” Nino asked, putting two fingers in his mouth and whistling. “Pfaau! Shake a tailfeather, dude, we got work to do!”

A small blue figure crawled out from under a blanket on the couch, squinting at Nino as he affixed the fan shaped charm to his belt buckle. “Must we? I just got comfortable.”

“Join the club,” Marinette said, as Tikki flitted out from her bag. “Dinner when we come back?”

“Looks like we don’t have much of a choice,” Nino sighed as Marinette donned her black and red supersuit. “Five Deadly Venoms…more like Five Deadly Pains In My Ass.”

“I know they can’t feel pain, but I’m gonna hit em extra hard today,” Ladybug groused. “You okay doing the press release again?”

“Sure sure,” Nino said, now clad in the blue and black coat of the Peacock Miraculous.

“Thanks; I’m bi a lot of things, but lingual isn’t one of them,” Ladybug said, blinking. “Wait…did I just say that out loud?”

“Fraid so,” Paon chuckled, opening the window as the cold New York evening blew into their apartment. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Ladybug sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

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