I Had An Vision Of Dan In A Floppy Hat, With A Netted Shirt So I Finally Drew It Lol 😎🌴🌊⛱

I had an vision of dan in a floppy hat, with a netted shirt so I finally drew it lol 😎🌴🌊⛱ Reblogs and opinions are appreciated ♡ @danielhowell

Why "doing something relaxing” does not help your anxiety

A lot of the time when people give advice intended to relieve anxiety, they suggest doing “relaxing” things like drawing, painting, knitting, taking a bubble bath, coloring in one of those zen coloring books, or watching glitter settle to the bottom of a jar.

This advice is always well-intentioned, and I’m not here to diss people who either give it or who benefit from it. But it has never, ever done shit for me, and this is because it goes about resolving anxiety in the completely wrong way.

THE WORST THING YOU CAN DO when suffering from anxiety is to do a “relaxing” thing that just enables your mind to dwell and obsess more on the thing that’s bothering you. You need to ESCAPE from the dwelling and the obsession in order to experience relief.

You can drive to a quiet farm, drive to the beach, drive to a park, or anywhere else, but as someone who has tried it all many, many times, trust me–it’s a waste of gas. You will just end up still sad and stressed, only with sand on your butt. You can’t physically escape your sadness. Your sadness is inside of you. To escape, you need to give your brain something to play with for a while until you can approach the issue with a healthier frame of mind.

People who have anxiety do not need more time to contemplate, because we will use it to contemplate how much we suck.

In fact, you could say that’s what anxiety is–hyper-contemplating. When we let our minds run free, they run straight into the thorn bushes. Our minds are already running, and they need to be controlled. They need to be given something to do, or they’ll destroy everything, just like an overactive husky dog ripping up all the furniture.

Therefore, I present to you:

THINGS YOU SHOULD NOT DO WHEN ANXIOUS

–Go on a walk

–Watch a sunset, watch fish in an aquarium, watch glitter, etc.

–Go anywhere where the main activity is sitting and watching

–Draw, color, do anything that occupies the hands and not the mind

–Do yoga, jog, go fishing, or anything that lets you mentally drift

–Do literally ANYTHING that gives you great amounts of mental space to obsess and dwell on things.

THINGS YOU SHOULD DO WHEN ANXIOUS:

–Do a crossword puzzle, Sudoku, or any other mind teaser game. Crosswords are the best.

–Write something. It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece. Write the Top 10 Best Restaurants in My City. Rank celebrities according to Best Smile. Write some dumb Legolas fanfiction and rip it up when you’re done. It’s not for publication, it’s a relief exercise that only you will see.

–Read something, watch TV, or watch a movie–as long as it’s engrossing. Don’t watch anything which you can run as background noise (like, off the top of my head, Say Yes to The Dress.) As weird as it seems, American Horror Story actually helps me a lot, because it sucks me in.

–Masturbate. Yes, I’m serious. Your mind has to concentrate on the mini-movie it’s running. It can’t run Sexy Titillating Things and All The Things That are Bothering Me at the same time. (…I hope. If it can, then…ignore this one.)

–Do math problems—literally, google “algebra problems worksheet” and solve them. If you haven’t done math since 7th grade this will really help you. I don’t mean with math, I mean with the anxiety.

–Play a game or a sport with someone that requires great mental concentration. Working with 5 people to get a ball over a net is a challenge which will require your brain to turn off the Sadness Channel.

–Play a video game, as long as it’s not something like candy crush or Tetris that’s mindless.

THINGS YOU SHOULD DO DURING PANIC ATTACKS ESPECIALLY:

–List the capitals of all the U.S. states

–List the capitals of all the European countries

–List all the shapes you can see. Or all the colors.

–List all the blonde celebrities you can think of.

–Pull up a random block of text and count all the As in it, or Es or whatever.

Now obviously, I am not a doctor. I am just an anxious person who has tried almost everything to help myself. I’ve finally realized that the stuff people recommend never works because this is a disorder that thrives on free time and free mental space. When I do the stuff I listed above, I can breathe again. And I hope it helps someone here too.

(Now this shouldn’t have to be said but if the “do nots” work for you then by all means do them. They’ve just never worked for me.)

262K notes View Post

cheriimo

6 years ago

Dan and Phil art is here

2K notes View Post

cheriimo

6 years ago

🤤

54 notes View Post

cheriimo

6 years ago

you know it’s cold outside when you go outside and it’s cold

173K notes View Post

cheriimo

2 months ago

MEOWWW I LOVE IT

cybergirl

hamzahthefantastic x reader (fic)

1.0

[part 2]

summary: hamzah’s a horny freak and you’re the lucky camgirl who gets to entertain him.

contains: smut with plot, essentially

wc: 2.1k-ish

It's that time of the night where Hamzah has finally completed all his daily tasks and he feels a familiar twitch in his pants. As an adolescent he never understood what people meant by "thinking with your dick," but that was before he had access to myriads of internet porn at the press of a button.

It was a fateful day when he masturbated for the first time. What was once just a pee stick attached to his body suddenly became so much more after stumbling upon his dad's porn magazine collection in the garage. That year was full of mysterious viruses on the family computer that seemed to appear from thin air and lots of trips to his friend's houses to share his findings.

Of course, there was the eventual graduation from magazines to videos to now, God's greatest act since turning water to wine: OnlyFans.

This time, he did not simply stumble upon such a vice. Instead, he was introduced to it through a time of desperation. Covid was at its peak and quarantine was doing a number on his mental state. Or, perhaps that's just what he tells himself to excuse what he did next.

He went to one of the many models he followed on Instagram and clicked the link in their bio.

It was all too enticing, too easy. A simple hop, skip, and entering of credit card information later and he was in—subscribed. This was the first taste of a delicious new drug he would no longer be able to live without. From then on, an addictive part of his personality would take over and he'd constantly want more, more, more.

No one knew about his dirty little secrets in the taboo corner of the internet where he could explore his greatest fantasies. He wasn't a virgin anymore, but a sexual deviant with a very bad spending habit. He'd learn more about himself in this time than any amount of puberty and social interaction could have ever made clear to him in his lifetime.

And that all brings him to the current time, 11:03 p.m. on a Wednesday night, alone as per usual. The saddest part was, the porn made him feel a little bit less lonely in the onset of isolation he was experiencing since his detachment to the world. The throbbing in his pants held a dull ache as he disrobed and laid in bed in only his boxers. He pried his laptop open and typed in his favorite web address, the gateway to his favorite girl in the whole world.

You were the perfect woman in Hamzah's eyes. You'd do anything for the right amount of pay, somehow keeping the mystique surrounding you prevalent and consistently having him crawling back for more. You had fuck me eyes and blowjob lips. And last, but certainly not least, the most mouth-watering pair of tits.

Though Hamzah thoroughly enjoyed these physical aspects of you, he also felt a deeper connection with you. There was something about you that caught his attention, made him unable to focus on anyone else. He'd often find himself daydreaming about you; thinking of your grocery list while at the supermarket and unholy things you could do to him when passing the neighborhood church on walks. He was enamored by your whole being.

He opened up Zoom and went to your usual meeting room, waiting for you whilst nearly bursting through the cloth of his boxers. You were always a little late, and even though he'd been paying for these sessions for a couple months now, he couldn't bring himself to care. You could keep him waiting until the daylight and he was sure he'd still be sitting in front of the camera awaiting your entrance, having a part in his own torture as he refused to please himself until you got there.

When the notification finally sounded that you had joined, it was 13 minutes past your initial meeting time of 11:05.

"Hi, Hamzah," your sweet voice rang, "were you a good boy for me?"

"Yes." He quickly nodded, his eyes unable to separate from your cleavage.

You teasingly pouted and crossed your arms, pushing your breasts up in the process. "You're never naughty... always trying to please me, hm?"

"Always," he breathed out.

"But I want to please you, too," you whispered.

You moved your laptop camera to expose the length of your body, fully bedecked in lilac-colored lingerie atop silky bedsheets. Hamzah's hand instantly reached to grab himself with a whine.

"So eager," you giggled. Your fingernails trailed down your sternum, tracing the bow on the center of your bra. "I love how you react to me."

"I'm already so hard," he said through a grunt.

"Show me," you ordered.

Hamzah hastily pulled his boxers off, freeing his erection from its confines. He spat into his palm and gripped his shaft, lips parted.

"I wish that was my hand," you sighed, eyeing the imagery unfolding in front of you. "Don't you?"

"I do," he replied with no regard as to how desperate he sounded. It just fueled the fire in his belly. "I nearly fucked a hole in my hand yesterday thinking about you."

"What were you thinking of?" you questioned, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you unclasped your bra and slid the straps down your arms. Hamzah watched in amazement, the friction of his hand making him speechless. "Was I blowing you? Riding you?"

"In the shower," he panted. "Your face pressed against the tiles—shit—while I fucked you from behind."

You hummed, pinching your nipples for a moment before your hand trailed further down, "all wet for you?"

"Soaked," he said, tossing his head back on the wall but keeping his eyes on you. "S-Screaming my name."

"Hamzah," you teased, "such a dirty mouth on you."

"Say my name again," he pleaded.

"Hamzah," you melodically repeated. "You're not gonna last long if you don't slow down."

He whined, knowing you were right. "So good...don't wanna stop."

"I know, baby," you murmured, running your fingertips over your wetness, "but don't you want to take your time with me?"

He watched as you slipped one finger in, then another, shielded by the fabric of your panties. He grunted in frustration, fisting his dick harder.

"Let me see you, please," he begged like the sight pained him, running his other hand through his disorderly curls.

You obliged, standing from the bed and turning so your ass was in the camera frame. You slowly pulled the laced bands down your hips, bending over as they fell down your legs and pooled at your ankles. Hamzah's breaths quickened as you kicked them to the ground, fully exposed to the camera.

"Fuck," he cursed, desperately reaching for his laptop to pull it closer and get a better view of you. "You're so..."

You crawled back onto the bed and parted your legs so you were out in the open for him, pussy glistening with your desire. Your fingers retraced their destined path as you reached down and spread your folds. He watched with hungry eyes.

"I'd kill to get a taste of you." He panted between his words.

You giggled and slipped teasing fingers in and out, never all the way. "Tell me how you want it, angel."

He moaned louder at the pet name. "All fours, p-please."

You flipped onto your knees, arching your back so your chest was touching the bed and you were looking over your shoulder at him.

"Touch yourself," he demanded.

Your cheek pressed on the mattress as you sunk your fingers deep within yourself, adding a third to fill you to the brim. Your mouth fell agape. The room filled with slapping sounds as you and Hamzah pumped your hands simultaneously.

"My god," he puffed out, his bare chest reddening with the fervor of his movements. "Just like that."

"So tight," you whimpered, feeling yourself clench around your fingers. "I'm dripping for you."

"I can almost f-feel you," he groaned as he pictured himself inside of you. "Fuck, the things I'd do to you..."

"Yeah?" You egged him on, getting restless. "Would you pound into me? Stretching me more than my fingers ever could?"

"Until you're bruised and sore," he promised breathlessly.

His hips began to lift from the bed as he fucked into his left hand, steadying himself on his right forearm. It was impossible for him to lift his jaw closed with the way he felt, his eyes nearly rolling back into the back of his head. Your free hand groped your breasts as your skin burned from his words.

"Are you close, Hamzah?" you asked, familiar with his signs. "Don't you dare cum yet, baby."

"I'm trying," he said through gritted teeth. "I never last long when you're l-like that."

"I love it," you gasped as shocks of electricity coursed through your veins. "Such a mess, all because of me."

"'Cause of you," he echoed, incapable of forming his own thoughts from the pleasure.

The both of your moans filled the air, pushing each other closer to completion. Hamzah's quivering voice, ever so expressive, shouted expletives as he slowly came undone. The pain in your neck went ignored as you took in the pathetic state of him, cumming into his fist and all over himself. His eyes were screwed up as his hips jolted in unison with every spurt of white that left his glossy tip.

Your climax took place soon after he came back down from the clouds, allowing him to watch as your thighs were saturated with your own arousal. He tirelessly pumped his shaft, wanting to ride out every last bit of satisfaction he could from you calling out his name. When your eyes opened and saw him, you shook your hips side to side, letting him ogle you a little longer.

You crashed to the bed and brought the laptop up so you could observe the way he cleaned himself up with a tissue from his nightstand. Your chests rose up and down, trying to oxygenate your lungs after being so breathless for so long. His happy trail was dampened, lying flat against his skin as he swiped away the last bits of moisture from his stomach.

Silently, you rose with trembling legs to grab the closest cloth to clean up your own mess. When you began wiping your inner thighs with your bunched up panties, Hamzah groaned. You bit your lip and bent over to shake your ass, your reddened pussy on display.

"Is it bad I wanted to lick my screen?" he exhaled as you sat back down, not bothering to put any clothes on.

"Stop," you giggled.

"Mail them to me."

"What?" You were still trying to catch your breath.

"Your...panties." The word sounded more obscene leaving his lips.

"I'll have to wash them first—"

"No." He shook his head, resting his hands on his sweaty torso. "Just send them."

"You're filthy," you gasped, grabbing the moisture-laden garment up from the carpet and holding it up. "What do you want them for?"

His cheeks suddenly flushed and you smirked, twirling the lace in your fingers. "You know."

A lazy smile spread across his face as he leaned his head to rest on his bicep, exhaustion beginning to hit him. It was a really fucked up ego boost—having him so obsessed with you—but up until then you’d never actually felt the rhythm of your heartbeat falter from his words. He didn’t know his words affected you that much, and even less did he know that he was the only client you actually managed to orgasm with.

“Five hundred.”

“Dollars?” Your brows shot up.

“No, pesos,” he joked, eyes half-lidded.

“Do you know the things I’ve done for that kinda money?”

“I don’t care.” He shrugged.

Behind a screen, he was different. Something like an alter ego would be unleashed, an audacious character he certainly didn’t behave like in public spaces. He didn’t have to worry about being found out because of his digital anonymity (as anonymous as you can be with your whole face and dick out). In the real world he was an introverted loner, but here, in the darkness of his room with only the LCD screen illuminating his figure, he was free to act as he pleased.

Besides, in the presence of you, he was basically a saint.

“Okay,” you finally said.

“Okay?”

“I’ll send them over.”

“Can’t wait.” There was a twinkle in his eyes from the acceptance of his offer.

“Try not to look so smug, angel.”

The call ended abruptly and as the light in front of him dimmed, he realized he was getting hard again in anticipation of receiving the parcel.

a/n: i’m realizing i can just post whatever i want on here so here’s this lil idea ive been hiding away for a while!! hope u enjoyed freaks <3

536 notes View Post