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css1992 · 3 years

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Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

Almost three months into his new life, Peter was finally able to establish a routine that worked for him. He woke up around nine in the morning, tried to get some sort of exercise done, usually yoga or a jog around the block, then he had breakfast by himself, because both Ned and MJ had class or work before he was even up. After that, he made sure to post something on Just4fans, so people could see it throughout the day, and answered private messages and comments from the night before. Lastly, he headed to his newly created Twitter account to promote the new content and to interact with people there as well – it was a great way to get new subscribers.

That usually took up most of his morning, then he went downstairs to Ned and MJ’s apartment for lunch. He usually ate with at least one of them, except for Mondays and Wednesdays, when neither was home, but even then he ate at their place since he didn’t own any kitchen appliances yet – it was on the priority list, but not that high up, he liked having an excuse to visit his friends every day.

Later, he headed back upstairs and, depending on the day, he would take new pictures and videos or edit the ones he took the day before. Finally, at night, he posted more content on his Just4fans and chatted with his subscribers until it was time for bed.

In the last week of April, on one of his morning jogs, he noticed that just a few blocks away from his building there was a charity called the Bright Future Foundation. He thought the name sounded familiar, but try as he may, he couldn’t remember where he had heard of them. It was only after running past it a few times that it clicked – Mr. Harrington, his science teacher, told Peter to look it up.

The Bright Future Foundation helped kids who aged out of foster care get their lives together. They offered support in the form of scholarships and grants, academic and personal mentoring, and help with internships and employment readiness skills. That was what their website said, as Peter vaguely remembered from his high school years, when he still planned on going to college.

He went inside one day, not really sure why, and when the front desk lady asked how she could help him he just stood there for a few minutes, silent and nervous. She asked if he wanted to learn about their programs, but he shook his head, sticking his hands in his pockets. The woman waited patiently, a motherly smile on her face, until Peter asked if they needed any help.

And that was how volunteering at BFF became a part of his new routine – every Thursday from nine to five, starting in the first week of May. Since it was just a few blocks away from his place, he could walk there instead of taking the subway.

He liked his new routine, it was tiring but it didn’t leave a lot of time for overthinking or ruminating on the past. He never felt lonely because Ned and MJ were always around and he actually made a few friends among his subscribers, which was nice.

For the first time in a while, Peter was feeling happy. And it wasn’t an elaborate, fragile sort of happiness, where things needed to be in perfect place for the feeling to be felt, no. It was the simplest kind of happiness: he had friends, a job, a place to crash and everything was fine. Nothing was perfect, but it was fine.

A few days after he sent Tony the lingerie pictures, he decided to send him the video. He was a little insecure about it, it was 13 minutes long after editing and Peter had really lost it for a minute there, one could clearly tell. He was gone for most of the video, a moaning mess, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, begging for something – someone – that wasn’t even there. It either looked ridiculous or fucking hot depending on the person watching, and even though he was pretty sure Tony would not think it was ridiculous, he still worried just a little, but he sent it anyway. It was still early in the day when he did, some time around noon, and he didn’t expect him to answer any time soon, so went on with his day.

Tony messaged him around 2AM, as usual, but there was no text, just three videos in the chat. In the first one, it looked like he was wearing a suit, he could see the dress pants pulled down and the white shirt pulled up as Tony jacked off for thirty seconds before he came all over his hand. It looked like he was in a bathroom stall, sitting on a toilet, and Peter bit his lower lip, wondering if he was at work when the video was taken.

The second video was similar to the first, but it looked like he was in a garage or something like that – probably the workshop he always talked about –, Peter could see a black shirt bunched up around his waist and sweatpants around his thighs.

Last but not least there was a video of him completely naked, lying in bed, and the video was shot from Tony’s point of view, like he was holding his cell phone close to his face, looking down, instead of propping it up in front of him like he usually did.

They were all incredible and delicious and got Peter rock hard in a second. The boy got comfortable on the bed, lay on his back, took off his pajama bottoms and sighed when his cock sprung free, shivering a little when the chilly night air touched his heated skin. He planted his feet on the mattress and spread his legs, but didn’t do more than that yet.

“That good?” He messaged Tony, cheekily, and the older man started typing right away.

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my whole entire life and I’m 48, so yeah. That good.”

Hm, forty-eight. So Peter wasn’t wrong in his assumption. He bit his lower lip, a rush of excitement running through his veins. Tony was so much older, almost thirty years his senior. Peter supposed he must be really experienced. He wondered if he usually hooked up with younger men or if in real life he only dated women – it wouldn’t be a shock – but most of all, he wondered what he looked like. Maybe he dyed his hair, but if he didn’t, it was probably mostly gray and fuck Peter if he didn’t have a thing for that.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You broke me. I was in the middle of a meeting when you sent that video, I had to excuse myself to go to the bathroom to watch it. What have you done to me, witch?” Peter wanted to laugh, but it got stuck in the back of his throat with a moan when he slid a hand to his lower abdomen and his cock stood to attention.

“I don’t know about that, but your videos sure got me horny as fuck.” He rolled his hips a little, humping the air, and finally gave in to himself, holding his cock in one hand and the cellphone in the other.

“Is that so?” He could almost hear his voice through the phone – soft, but powerful. He always imagined Tony would sound like that if they ever talked face to face.

“Yes, daddy” And that would always be his default answer to anything he might ask with that voice. He closed his eyes for a second, quickening the pace of his strokes just a little, when his phone beeped again.

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Yes, daddy” Peter shivered, imagining Tony’s reaction to that revelation.

“Can I hear you, baby boy?”

He didn’t even hesitate, he started recording a voice message and moaned into the phone, thrusting his hips against his fist as he quietly begged for Tony’s cock, his fingers, his mouth, anything, he just wanted the man to be there taking care of him, making him cum, that was all he wanted, and he wanted it so badly.

He came in just a few seconds and hit send on the voice message before he could overthink it. As he lay there, breathless, staring at the ceiling and trying to gather his strength, he fantasized about Tony listening to it. He smiled to himself, like an idiot, then his cellphone beeped, bringing him back to reality.

“You’re gonna drive me mad, you know that? I’m actually going insane and it’s all your fault. Also, my dick is gonna fall off and that’s on you, too.” Peter had the presence of mind to laugh at the message, but it took him a few seconds to gather enough energy to write back to him.

“That’s a serious accusation, Tony, I’m gonna need all the evidence I can get, so every time you touch yourself thinking of me, make sure to send me proof, ok?”

“Oh, you don’t know what you just got yourself into.” Again, Peter could only laugh, because judging by the amount of videos Tony sent him that day, he really was in for a treat.

Days later, on Friday, Peter got up early to go for his usual jog around the block. He was a little tired from the day before, still adjusting to his new routine at BFF – it was his third week there and they were starting to realize that Peter was a quick learner and very eager to help, so they took advantage of that, which was fine with him, he was thrilled to be able to help somehow.

So after a quick, half-assed jog around the block, he went back home, showered and decided to take the rest of the pictures Tony asked for. The man was still going nuts over the video, he wouldn’t stop talking about it and every day there was a video of him finishing himself off in their chat and Peter could hear his own voice in the background, screaming Tony’s name.

It was both embarrassing as fuck and hot as hell, so the younger man also spent a lot of those last few days in the shower trying to cool down, but Tony was not making it easier.

As much fun as that was, he was curious to see how Tony would react to the new pictures. He realized that would be the first time the older man would see him with clothes on, which sounded ridiculous, but it was true. He didn’t have many pictures on Instagram, but most of them were selfies and there were just a few where it was possible to see maybe a hint of a shirt, but that was it.

So he took the outfit he and MJ picked out and winced, remembering how much it cost, but at least he picked out clothes he might wear some day – if he had a meeting with the queen of England, for example. He put on the light gray suit by Hugo Boss, with a pink shirt with big, white dots by Levi’s Vintage underneath, black dress shoes by Brunello Cucinelli and a Gucci watch he was able to find on sale for half the original price. The whole outfit was worth around five thousand dollars, and was definitely the most money he had ever spent on – well, anything.

He checked himself in the mirror and snorted a little, he sure looked like a spoiled brat, which was probably what Tony meant by “expensive and beautiful”, so that was fine. He styled his hair so it looked effortlessly tousled, but not too much, and set his camera to take the pictures by the living room window.

He took a few pictures on the windowsill, some other leaning against the glass with his hands in his pockets, a few others looking out the window. He posed on his armchair, too, which was the only piece of furniture he had in his living room at the moment and he wished he had a decent dining table so he could pose like he was on a date with the camera, but he supposed those would do.

Once he was satisfied with what he got, he took off the clothes, put them away and went downstairs to have lunch with Ned and MJ. For the first time since he moved in with them, they both had Friday afternoon off, so they spent it together, eating junk food, watching bad TV series and playing really old tabletop games Ned had brought with him when he moved from his parents’ house.

In between a game of Monopoly and Scrabble, Peter pulled his phone out to check his messages, and was surprised to find one from Tony, sent just a few minutes earlier. He checked the time and noticed he must still be at work, so he opened it, assuming it couldn’t be anything too sexual.

“Hey, are you feeling better today? Just checking in.”

Peter frowned for a second, but a quick look at their earlier messages reminded him that he was feeling a little under the weather the day before and he’d told Tony that before he went to bed.

“Hi, Tony! I’m all better now, thanks for asking. I guess it was just allergies or something.”

He didn’t expect Tony to answer right away, but as soon as his message was sent, he started typing.

“That’s good to hear, but you need to be a little more careful with your health, kitten. Just yesterday you said you had an apple for lunch. At 4PM.”

“You’re one to talk.” Peter snorted. They always berated each other for poor eating habits. Peter was a 20 year-old bachelor living by himself and sharing meals with his equally young and dumb friends, so pizza was on the menu more often than not; Tony was a forty-eight year-old businessman with too little time to care. “Did you even eat today?”

“Don’t try to turn this around, this isn’t about me.” Peter rolled his eyes and smiled to himself. “Did you do anything fun today?”

“I took some pictures for you, it was quite fun.” He knew the mention of new pictures would get him interested in a minute.

“Don’t play with my heart, kid. When can I see them?”

“I don’t know...” He teased just a little, because he knew Tony wasn’t above begging and it was fun to watch.

“Don’t be mean to daddy, come on. He’s always so good to you.” Peter smiled, because, yeah. He was.

“I’ll send them tonight, I promise.” He decided, since they would have more time to talk then, if he sent the pictures earlier, Tony would still be at work and Peter would still be at his friends’.

“Good boy.”

“You know I am.”

“What are you smiling about? Who are you talking to?” Ned looked suspiciously at him, so he quickly put the phone down and shook his head with a nervous smile.

“Just a subscriber with a bad one-liner.”

MJ looked at him like she knew a secret, but Ned just shrugged and finished setting up the game. They ended up calling it a draw and ordering pizza afterwards, but Peter went back home early because both Ned and MJ had work the next morning.

Once he got upstairs, he went to edit Tony’s pictures and since it was still a little early to send them, he decided to check his twitter DMs. He didn’t read them very often, he already had his plate full with JustForFans, but every once in a while he checked them and answered as many as he could. Most of the messages were dick pics anyway, he just ignored those. Some others were people being nosy and asking way too personal questions, or worse, asking about Beck. He learned how to talk his way around those, but one message in particular stood out and really got to him.

“I’m so glad you’re doing okay, honey! The way Beck is with his new boy now makes me wonder if he ever even loved you. He sure moved on quickly. You’re better off without him anyway, I always liked you better.”

That sort of comment wasn’t exactly unusual, but that second part caught him a little off guard. Makes me wonder if he ever even loved you. It just – why would she say that? The way Beck is with his new boy. What way, exactly? What could he possibly be doing that made that person assume Beck never even loved him? People thought they were perfect together, they said it all the time, so much so that Peter himself was almost convinced of it for most of their relationship, so why in the hell would anyone think he loved this other guy more? To the point of assuming he didn’t even love Peter in the first place?

He was a masochist, he decided, as he opened Instagram. And not even the good kind of masochist, because there wasn’t any pleasure involved in what he was about to do, just pain. He unblocked Beck’s profiled and fucking looked. He didn’t know what he expected to find, but just looking at the first picture was enough to make him realize it was a terrible fucking idea. It was a black and white picture of him and the new guy cuddling in bed, kissing with soft smiles on their faces, captioned: “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Peter closed the app quickly, he didn’t need to see that. It meant nothing.

That picture meant nothing. That caption meant nothing. Because Beck was a fucking liar, a fucking actor, a fucking illusionist, a fucking – artist. He painted beautiful pictures, he weaved beautiful words, but none of that meant anything. Because it never meant anything when it was Peter in his arms, so why would–

Fuck, he should be over him, so fucking over him. But he really wasn’t, he would go back to that toxic environment if Beck snapped his fingers and that was scary to know. It was fucking terrifying to realize he was one text away from crawling back to him, even after all the humiliation, even after Beck just fucking up and left him with nothing – nothing – he would still go right back to his arms. He still wanted to go right back to his arms.

It made him feel pathetic and weak because he knew that what they had was toxic and abusive. And he had known that for a while, way before they split up. Deep in his soul, he knew he was living a nightmare, day after day, over and over again, but he couldn’t fucking leave. He thought Beck was all he had. He promised him forever. He promised he would always be there for him. He was all Peter had in life, and he had lost so fucking much over the years, he couldn’t afford to lose anybody else.

But he did, didn’t he? He lost Beck. He was in someone else’s arms right that second, professing his undying, fake love.

Peter took a deep breath and held it a few seconds, then exhaled slowly.

He didn’t lose anything, he was set free. He was free and he had a record to break – it had been three days since he last cried about that asshole and he didn’t plan to ruin it.

He closed Instagram and went to his Just4Fans. He posted a few pictures from a phoshoot he did earlier that week that made him feel sexy and confident, which was the opposite of how he felt at that moment, but he was going to fake it until he made it.

In a few minutes, he got lots of comments and private messages with compliments, but somehow none of them was enough to fill the empty spot Beck left when he dumped him.

Well, none except for one.

“Were you planning on giving an old man a heart attack today? ‘Cause that’s how you give an old man a heart attack.” The silly message got a smile out of him, and that was a lot considering how broken he felt.

“Lol. It wasn’t in my plans, no, but now I’m worried. Is the old man okay?” He joked, and immediately got an answer in his inbox.

“He’s waiting for you to keep your promise. Says he refuses to die before he sees some pictures of you? Do you happen to know anything about that?” Peter chuckled.

“Oh, yeah, I think I know what he’s talking about. Hold on a sec.”

He selected his ten favorite pictures with the date outfit and sent them to Tony, feeling butterflies in his stomach for reasons he couldn’t explain. He lay in bed for several minutes, staring at his phone, waiting for an answer, but the older man didn’t say anything, even though Peter could see he was still online. He started to get a little anxious, worried that he had messed up somehow, so he messaged him again.

“Well? Have I finally rendered the old man speechless?”

Almost at the same time as he sent his message, Tony replied:

“I need to see you.”

Peter’s heart almost jumped out of his mouth when he read those words, eyes widening in shock. I need to see you. He read it a few more times to make sure it meant what he thought it meant. It couldn’t possibly – Tony wouldn’t want to meet him. That would be absurd. He was – well, Peter wasn’t sure, but he sounded important most of the time, he was definitely very rich, very hardworking and he seemed like a really nice guy. So really, why would he want to meet Peter. That made absolutely no sense, obviously he meant something different than that, he just didn’t quite know what–

“Please,” said the next message, just a few seconds later.

Peter bit his lower lip, feeling his face grow warmer. Just for the hell of it, he thought – what if Tony did mean he wanted to meet him? What then? Peter couldn’t say yes, that would be insane. He didn’t even know the man, all he knew were little things about his daily life, he didn’t know his last name, if he had a family, if he was married, if he was a psychopath – he didn’t even know what he looked like!

Still, he fantasized about saying yes. But that was just a fantasy. He couldn’t do it, that would be crazy.

Right?

“You won’t regret it, I’ll treat you right.”

Well, fuck. He had to go straight for his Achilles’s heel, huh.

Peter kept staring at the bright screen of his phone, breathing slowly to try to contain his wild heart that seemed adamant to burst out of his chest cavity in the next few minutes. He didn’t know what to say. No, his brain supplied, like it was obvious, because it was, right? He couldn’t say yes, yes was not a viable answer. He had to say no, it was only a matter of how he would say it without hurting the older man’s ego.

But.

Why exactly did he have to say no? He knew there were ate least 99 good answers to that question, but he couldn’t think of one, so–

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer?” Peter asked, even though he wasn’t really worried about that, it was the last thing on his mind, to be honest.

“You’ll know.” He said, plain and simple, and not helpful at all. And still, no flight response whatsoever from Peter’s brain. His stupid mind couldn’t seem to understand that that was clearly a terrible idea.“We’ll meet in a restaurant, the best in New York, and nothing else has to happen, I promise. We’ll have a nice dinner and that’s it. I just need to see you in person.”

That sounded reasonable, didn’t it? A public place, lots of eyes on them. If Tony turned out to be a creep, he could just leave. At the very worst, he’d be disappointed and lose a very generous subscriber; at the very best, he’d get a good meal out of it and who knew what else. It sounded reasonable. So it was probably reasonable.

Right?

“Can I wear this outfit?” He asked, because, well, that was all he had to wear to New York City’s best restaurant – whatever that was.

“You must, baby.” He answered quickly, and Peter smiled to himself. “So I’ll take that as a yes, then?”

He typed a quick yes, but didn’t send it right away. He gave his brain a few seconds to come up with reasons to say no, because he knew there were good reasons for that, but he really, honestly, just wanted to say–

“Yes.”

“Perfect.” He replied right away, as if he had been staring at the phone, waiting for his answer. “I’ll set a time and place and let you know. You won’t regret it, Peter.”

Peter loved all the pet names Tony gave him, they were all sweet and funny, but when he called him by his actual name, it just hit different. It felt good. Like he wasn’t just a pretty picture in a porn app, an expensive hobby, but a person. It was hard for him to remember that, sometimes.

Some other times, it felt good to forget.

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

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camillemontespan · 5 years

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the wedding date [AU. drake walker]

Just a short thing I started, might not continue this, but think this could be like a romcom fic. I watched a film with the babe that is Dermot Mulroney last night and was reminded of the Wedding Date. So.. this fic is inspired by that.

@burnsoslow @moonlightgem7 @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @pug-bitch @jovialyouthmusic @ibldw-main @sirbeepsalot @dcbbw @mskaneko @gardeningourmet @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @emichelle @katedrakeohd @emceesynonymroll @notoriouscs

*****************************************************

‘She’s getting married.’

Liam and Leo both blinked in shock as they digested Drake’s words. His voice was despondent. Sighing, he crumpled up the invitation with gold lettering and threw it to the centre of the table.

‘Dude.. are you okay?’ Leo asked.

Drake shrugged. ‘Yeah. It was expected, you know? I knew she had a boyfriend.’

‘True but it’s only been six months..’ Liam interjected.

‘Must be true love then, heh,’ Drake replied, trying to make light of it. ‘Something I couldn’t offer her.’

The three of them were sat in a bar on the corner of East 62nd Street. It was Saturday and their ‘guys day’ which had promised to consist of beer and football had become overshadowed by Drake’s announcement that his ex-girlfriend was engaged.

Kiara had wanted to be the bigger person and invite Drake, her ex-boyfriend.

Drake wished she hadn’t.

‘Are you gonna go?’ Liam asked.

‘Fuck no,’ Drake said. ‘Why would I want to put myself through that? The pitying looks. The awkward small talk The champagne. Ugh, fuck that.’

Leo smirked. ‘Maybe you could bring a date. Show her that you don’t care.’

‘I’m not even going to consider that,’ Drake said dryly. He gestured to the bartender and asked for another glass of whiskey. ‘Make it a double.’

Liam reached out to open the crumpled invitation.

‘His name is Gabriel. Like the angel,’ he said, reading its contents. ‘Ooh they’ve hired the Plaza for the wedding venue. Champagne reception and canapes. How fancy.’

‘Just like her,’ Drake said quietly. ‘She always liked that shit.’

Leo and Liam grimaced. They knew that Drake and Kiara had been ill-matched from the very beginning. Why the two of them were ever together, they would never know.

Kiara was the daughter of a diplomat. She studied at an Ivy League university - Princeton- and worked as a translator. She loved fine wine, travel documentaries and designer clothes.

Drake was the son of a security guard - his father passed away when he was fourteen and his mother abandoned him soon after. He didn’t go to university, instead working in bars when he was legally of age. He loved whiskey, boxsets and denim shirts. He had never worn anything designer in his life.

But that was just the superficial stuff. The flaws in their relationship ran deeper than materialism. Drake was often happy to go to dive bars and wind away the hours with a bottle of whiskey. He was fine with his life; not totally happy because who genuinely was, but he was fine. He liked living in New York and seeing his friends. He liked going outdoors on hikes, but Kiara didn’t. She wasn’t one for outdoor activities; she liked her creature comforts.

It had stemmed from their sexual attraction. They had locked eyes one night at the bar Drake worked. It was an up-market place and Kiara had been sat with her friends on a tall chair, her lithe legs crossed with her dress riding up her thigh. As Drake poured a glass of wine, Kiara’s gaze was fixed on him and he found that he couldn’t look away.

She was petite. Dark skin, black hair, flirty smile.

They went back to hers. Drake had picked her up and pinned her against the wall of the hallway, enjoying the groans she made as he kissed her neck. His hands had raked through her hair and pulled at her designer dress, revealing the lace black lingerie she wore underneath.

Kiara liked kink, Drake gradually found out. When they became official, she introduced new things to the bedroom that Drake loved. He loved that she liked bondage. He loved that she liked sex toys. He loved that she would walk to his apartment dressed in only a trench coat and heels, untying her coat when he let her inside, so the trench fell to the floor and revealed her nude form.

But it wasn’t enough.

Kiara wanted to commit. Like, really commit. She wanted a ring on her finger and declarations of love.

But Drake didn’t love her. It wasn’t her fault; the fact was that Drake Walker had never loved anyone. He didn’t know how to.

In the end, she left.

And he wasn’t surprised.

Because everyone left Drake in the end. What was one more person?

***********************************

‘I’ve signed you up.’

Drake frowned at Liam. ‘Signed me up for what?’

‘Dating,’ Liam replied, holding up his phone.

‘Oh fuck off, Li,’ Drake groaned. ‘I don’t need a girlfriend-’

‘Not a girlfriend,’ Liam interrupted. ‘Just something casual.’

‘Why?’

Liam picked up the invitation. ‘Because you were with Kiara for two years,’ he said. ‘She meant something to you. She’s invited you to her wedding. Clearly, she wants to make amends. Why not?’

‘Sounds like hell if you ask me,’ Leo said, tossing back a glass of scotch. ‘Why would he want to do that? Attend his ex’s wedding while she laughs and kisses her new husband, revelling in her new status as a constant ball and chain? Sounds like a fucking blast.’

Drake smirked. ‘Exactly.’

‘Look, you can bring a date to this!’ Liam protested. ‘You can show you have moved on. You can look like a good guy, going to her wedding to wish her well.’

‘Liam, no random girl is going to go to a wedding with a guy she’s just met,’ Drake told him.

Liam shot him a mischevious smile. ‘Not these girls.’

Drake grabbed his phone. ‘What the fuck have you done?’

Plus1.com.

‘What the fuck is plus1.com?’ Drake asked, horrified. Leo let out a laugh but lapsed into silence when Drake gave him a death stare.

Liam smiled. ‘It’s a website for people who are looking for dates for events they’ve been invited to. Your profile is shared around agencies until a girl messages you. Hence, plus one. It’s online dating for those who don’t actually want to date! The girl finds you, so it’s not creepy as it’s all in the girl’s court, and you meet up, talk about the wedding, and then you go to said wedding. Easy.’

‘I could just stay home,’ Drake replied. ‘That’s the other option. Less hassle. Makes more sense. I can just get drunk on whiskey and watch porn.’

‘That sounds fucking excellent,’ Leo quipped, raising his glass. ‘Cheers to that!’

Liam looked from Leo to Drake with a look of dismay on his face. ‘You both are disgusting.’

**********************************

Liam had emailed Drake the login details for plus1.com. The username Liam had chosen for Drake was ‘GrumpyMarshmallow’ and the profile picture was of the three of them at another bar. Drake was going to delete his profile as soon as he got home. He didn’t want to have that abomination online for another minute.

Drake got home at 2am. He lived in a dingy studio apartment over a liquor store, which Leo thought was the best location for an apartment, which meant that Drake would have to move at some point. Anything Leo approved of was bad thing.

He got undressed and pulled on his check pyjama bottoms. Sitting up in bed with his laptop balanced on his lap, Drake pulled up the plus1 website. He cringed at the profile Liam had made for him.

My name’s Drake Walker. I’m 28 years old, single -obviously- and live in New York. I like whiskey, hiking, reading and 80s rock (don’t judge). I’m fun company, if a little sarcastic and dry to begin with, but I swear, once you get to know me, I’m not all bad. I’ve been invited to my ex’s wedding and I don’t want to go. My friends have suggested I try this. It’s a champagne reception and canapes. I can’t stand champagne or canapes. Emotional support will be needed.

Ugh god, he needed to delete this asap.

He was trying to find the Settings option when he saw that he had a message. It would probably be those ‘Welcome to hell!’ intro messages for new users.

It wasn’t.

The profile picture was of a girl. She had dark hair, caramel skin and was posing in front of a white wall. It looked like a polaroid for a model on a go-see. Drake thought this started to look suspicious. Maybe Liam had missed the small print?

‘Hey there,’ her message began.

‘‘Ugh champagne and canapes, really? But hey, problem shared is a problem halved, right?

P.S. whiskey on the other hand..

-Camille. ‘

Drake stared at the screen. What was he supposed to do with that?

Delete the fucking profile.

She was pretty.

Delete the fucking profile.

Was she flirting with him?

Delete the fucking profile.

But then, he could go to the wedding and show Kiara that he was fine. He was doing good. He had a babe on his arm. He didn’t need Kiara. He had.. Camille. Camille who liked whiskey.

Delete the fucking profile.

Drake thought of Kiara kissing her new husband while everyone looked at him with pity.

Drake thought of staying home to drink whiskey and watch porn.

Drake clicked on the message and began to type.

#drake walker #drake walker x mc #trr fanfic #trr au

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coffeeselfies · 9 years

Photo

This is technically the “I think I need coffee,” selfie, but it’s been so long since I’ve posted that I figured anything was better than nothing.

I’m still trying to sleep through the inspiration of a very wonderful Bob Goff.

I. love. him.

But on to darker things, like my not-so-distant past!

Hahaha. So I was looking for an old assignment I e-mailed myself, and instead found a bunch of cryptic-heavy things I had texted one of my rarely used e-mails from my phone.

So of course I’m going to put them together, here, since I will probably just lose them otherwise. And because everyone on the internet loves reading the things I e-mail to, well, myself (WAIT, DO I NOT HAVE FRIENDS, WHAT IS MY LIFE). :p

4/12/12 - A veces no quiero hablar Por Nada con mis amigos. Solamente, "Hoy me dice ,estas loca, pero le esta loco a Juan!" Y mas Nada. Yo quiero hablar about cosas lejas. Ayer y Hoy hable con jean y veronika, solamente small talk primer. Pero despues, yo decido hablar about the things which I was.actually thinking about lately, the deeper layers. My thoughts were kind of awkward. Random. But I'm so glad I did, it lead to such good convos! As if, although my own thoughts or specific revelation (another one about love, of course), but led to true, sincere convos from the heart. Yes! Thank you, Lord. It's funny how I won't open up and ill get frustrated at the lack of depth in a conversation, yet really all I need to do in some cases is just jump right into the true issues. Ahh small talk kills me.

3/4/12 - He asked us a few questions: Who are you using?

How are you using them?

Physically. Sexually. Emotionally. Spiritually. Monetarily.

How can you restore that? Who's using you? Do you love money, and use people?

Or do you love people, and use money?

5/9/12 I think my id and superego are in conflict... I prefer that psychological term to saying that right vs wrong or my flesh is in rebellion, I guess. I just want to do all sorts of things that aren't of God, and i don't even know what to do. I think I need to just remember that life is short, and not about what I want. I'm getting too caught up in the worldly details, my visions going, my path, every time I think I'm expanding it, is getting more and more limited. Goodnight, from post Dave n busters with cartel, post umsl, going to school tmrw.

5/17/12 - "Can you keep a secret?" I should have realized by now that this question should be answered with fear and heaviness rather than curiosity.

5/29/12 - I dreamt that, after they thought I had left, my parents started fighting. Loudly, viciously, hatefully. I came down shouting, 'stop it, stop it!!' But their heads were already covered in blood, as I'd they were going to kill eachother. I never found out if they stopped or not, because dad called to me in real life from the other room. At first I wondered if I had really been shouting, and that's why he had contacted me, but no, it was just about bulk trash being today. Something sounds like its gnawing on something, I can hear and feel the vibrations of it through my pillow. Creepy.

6/4/12 - I have always been a compassionate person – making little houses for wounded snakes and worms – befriending the kid who’s got no one but himself for company, partnering with the girl who doesn’t really speak English. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve recognized that God has been faithful in granting me patience, mercy, and grace as well, and I know that these are not my own, but I am meant to share them with the very people God has give me a heart for – the downtrodden, broken, and outcast, and ultimately just humanity in general. This has, more or less, been my (more recent) life pursuit. To follow God’s Will for my life, regardless of where it takes me. So far that has meant giving hope to weary and often lost travelers of Amsterdam, mentoring at risk juveniles and raising awareness for human trafficking in Los Angeles, running English and Summer-School programs for Chinese immigrants in New York City, training and creating jobs for families in Haiti, as well as hosting events and creating opportunities for girls to leave brothels , learning how to run a business in Mexico while also helping out at various orphanages for disabled Children, and even just being there for my own family and friends when they’ve needed it most. It has meant months of Ministry Training schools, years of living in International Community Houses, working in roles that range from administration, to construction, to managerial, and an ever growing reliance on and relationship with Jesus Christ.I’ve been back in Saint Louis for a year now,

7/1/12 - Today started strangely, my head still a little blurry from the wine from the night before. I went to church, very late, where daren had a cupcake waiting for me. Why? Because Tuesday I had admitted I had experienced some downer bdays and he realized that it was my half birthday. Mom came, cried, we hugged, went to the church picnic.. I went home, told dad about her accident, and he just started weeping, so hard that his nose began to.bleed. I stroked his hair and.got a bit teary eyed.and then we got.on our knees and prayed... Later was feeling down and missing Luke, but jean got me out.

11/11/12 - And with your hands in the air, your feet barely touching ground, I take that smile to mean that life is finally turning 'round. And we laugh til we cry and we dance til we cant, and I feel free as can be each time I see that gleam in your eye. Then the secrets come out and its less about being blessed and more about a high. So when you're dancing I'm wondering if that's you, and when you're singing, I know you would be singing.the blues... But that gleam in your eye, well really its more of a glaze all along, I just saw what I wanted as you,strung me along.

12/20/12 -

Well the queens off her throne Hiding in a stairwell Feet strewn about the stairs Seeming barely aware That her kingdom awaits The king, divorced long ago He's crying Where's his iron fist? Seems he's traded it for sentiment "Pathetic!" He might self accuse If only his tears would let him Seems everything's a dream these days, Some hellish, some sweet But all

I used to find the idea of receiving a text in the middle of the night strange.

Now, after years of practice, I find it comforting, perhaps a reminder that I am not so alone as I would feel.

I hadn't realized this, of course, until now.

Now, when I wake up to nothing but darkness and my own thoughts.

Now, when, regardless of whether I toss myself awake at 2am or 4am, there is no message.

There's nothing to reassure me that there's another person in this world who is awake and eager to share a moment, even a small, electronic message with me.

1/11/13 - Today Gave my testimony. Adopt a block, played ninja. Eva likes hanging out with Christians. I break rules and have real convos with the disciples. Play bs. Go to angelus temple. Do food distribution. Met hosea who talked to us because he thought I was pretty, was super catholic, thought tim was my bf, etc etc etc

1/29/13 - Oh hi, I'm feeling cold and pathetic, and thought I would ... Email myself. That seems fitting. Somehow emailing yourself feels much more pathetic than just journaling. Right now I feel like I wish anyone, absolutely anyone , would sit down across from me. Even the old creepy man who, after asking a few non essential questions, left me for the warmth of the indoors, or... I don't know, a donut. Why do I feel like this.Lord? Is it because I am not so busy in school? Is it because Adam moved and despite the fact that I was barely hanging out with him last semester anyway, he was a crutch, and knowing that at 1am when I feel pathetic and lonely and confused, I can't even text someone I know would care? I mean. I know others would care. But we aren't exactly on that level just yet. What is my life? Why am I this way, and why do I want attention for it? Or why do I feel the need to find someone who would , what, save me ? From myself.? From my thoughts? Why am I seeking comfort in shallow things, the wings of friends and acquaintences and , frick, anything. Whywhywhywhy. I don't know. Is this what life is like for people? Lord, you are the one God, the only thing worth it, you are good when no one else is, am I getting caught up in things that I shouldn't, what am I even going on about? Life life life. It's all good, right

2/13/13 - (From a voice to text translator)

tomorrow I'm supposed to have an awkward cuddling session with my love scene manager and a love my phone from church I'm not sure how I get myself into these awkward situations but I definitely am good at it office tomorrow my uncle is moving in for a month but should be really awkward and I wish that I had a lock on my door and the house I'm learning that the things that I desire to have a find myself feeling empty when I do get them but I'm happy about it because it gets me clarity because it shows me that nothing else really matters is just kind of in my head really got the only thing that matters is the only thing I should pursue S I miss Adam I know you won't hang out that much before you left but now I guess I'm missing him double I don't know I don't know what I mean exactly but he's been gone a few weeks now and it's weird not having a best friend to talk to you about everything I have a lot of friends I have a lot of good friends but this is different it is different when you have someone who knows so much about you already and you don't have to tell the back story every time you tell them a new story because I already know who so I'm so is or why you feel that way or white was a bad idea that you did that so I'm also giving up ice cream and I'll call for lunch and I'm going to be time to eat a lot better subject tomorrow hopefully that I've also really just been wanting to be free of employment just live and everyday wake up and say what I want to do without help homeless people if I want to make something I want to sell another day love you babe I wanna go out with a friend I make my card I definitely don't want to spend 5 shifts a week at cartel but at the same time I don't feel like I'm self disciplined enough to not have a job I'm just getting tired of the creepers and the internet the kids off work as well as yeah I don't know ent from my HTC on the Now Network from Sprint!

8/18/13 -

Woke up really missing my dad. Go figure. Able to properly seduce emotions into a flat, shruggable denial ever since those first few days, and now, on the day I hoped to "stay strong" the most, I can't stop thinking of part of the song he wrote for Rachel, only now in regards to him - "I miss you, in the summertime.. I miss you, in the wintertime.. I miss you - all the time. I love my Rachel Sue." Only.. Daddy-o, or something. Ahhh.. Thank you, Lord, for such a kind father. Please help today glorify your name, run smoothly.. its so obvious we can't do it without you.

8/19/13 - I miss my dad. I am sad that I'll never have him burst in my room in November at three am with pancakes and lit birthday candles because he started thinking about some of the birthdays of mine he had missed, and wanted us to be able to celebrate together. I can't drink milk or even look at rootbeer without hearing him ask for some, so eagerly, and then sigh 'mmmm, now that's good,' so contentedly after his first sip. I miss that his crazy stories are not going to be things that I share in everyday conversation with my friends, because they're all old stories and it will seem out of place. who do i have to talk to about my dad? no one. it makes everyone sad. theres no one to just share his life with, aside from close family, and that will be limited. Everyone keeps telling me I'm so strong. What does that mean?I'm strong because I didn't start sobbing when I spoke? Because I'm smiling and laughing with you? Is that strength or disposition? Blake said that I was handling this better than anyone he's ever seen deal with death. What does that mean?

12/13/13

I see a sadness in your eyes.Behind the words, another message.The weight of your world becomes tangible, heavy, a thickness that weights me like a fog rolling in with, strapping invisible bricks to my body. Sometimes it's your words, blatant and straightforward, other times it's the sighs, the eyes that flash with emotion for just a moment, Did you know that's been seen? So many words, how can they be contained? I hear things you've never said, I see

1/03/14-

I've tried reflecting on 2013.. tried finding words which could somehow, miraculously encapsulate all of the growth, struggle, joy, depression, transformation, and experiences that it contained. It will be one of the most memorable years of my life, for many reasons, but it may also be one of those years that the full impact of may be lost on me for awhile now.In the past few weeks, I've been looking through journals, photos, and letters, remembering and realizing exactly how many changes this year has brought. Led my first missions trip, felt the loss of saying goodbye to one of my best friends, discovered what living with not just my dad, but my uncle Ken, five chickens, two cats, two ducks, a dog, and whoever else decided to stay over was like, became the missions director at middletree church, became an AUNT to the most beautiful little Emelia Skye, gained a new set of amazing and wonderful friends, played nurse/daughter/friend/staff member/sister/maid/hopsicecare/barista/student/leader to the point of confused identity and exhaustion, left cartel to become part of the Caife Caife family, DIDN'T leave the country for the first time in yeaaaaars, actually had to turn down exciting travel/jobs, speaking opportunities, and a leadership position with a non-profit (rather than seek them out, like usual), spent 7 months of the year experiencing the beauty, hardship, and love of caring someone who is dying in more and more ways every day, the trauma and release of my dad's actual death, the months following that are nothing but fog, sorrow, and blurred memories, the 14-state family road trip of a lifetime, moving to the Loop with Dani, experiencing being 'home for the holidays' without any actual family to be home with, and .. I don't know.. the Sara of today, who can look back on things only a year ago and find I have a whole new perspective on them. ..I only wrote one public (well, as public as it can be when I have a total of 8, predominately inactive followers) blog post in 2013, mostly talking about overcoming fear to become the person I feel I'm called to be. It was mostly inspired by revelations from the LA Dream Center trip, and I can't tell you how nice it is to be able to look back on the goals and dreams I wanted so desperately to become a reality, and to be able to say that, even through all the changes and sorrow of this year, that they were able to come to fruition. I'm not in to new years resolutions, but I do highly recommend kickstarting your year with an inspiring, transformative experience, which can set the trajectory for how you are going to live, what goals you will meet or fall short of (but still come closer to, which is still GROWTH, something to celebrate!) in the coming adventure of 2014. No matter what 2013 held, don't let fear of who you were just last month keep you from being who you want to be tomorrow. This little blog post is nice for me to re-read, because it reminds me of my fears, and what overcoming them, even one step at a time, can lead to. 2013 was a hard year for me, but it has also brought me to exactly where I feel I'm supposed to be right now.

1/29/14 - "I'm good" I wore the reassuring words like a blanket. Cover, no, smother whatever was beneath, within. Protect yourself from the cold, vulnerable words might slip thru the holes in the blanket... exposed means they can feel temperature of your meaning. Heavy, heat from the heart. you can feel their response. Pray for a warm touch, but there's always risk of icicle daggers

2/19/14

it's just that

I have a lot of thoughts

ideas, fears, ..a lot of places that I'd like to explore

But they feel so heavy when it's just me and them

feels like there’s a lot of trees to climb before i get to the clouds

and I'd like to share them with someone

who cares about them just as much as I do,

someone with just as much to risk,

who understands each side of the story.

And sometimes, I see planets in those eyes,

but have no rocketship to get me there

And I see that depth, but there's just no way to tap in

Im searching for someone to explore with

those infinite galaxies in your mind and mine.

Someone to make sense of it,

write poetry about it

but not get so caught up that it's just us - no

Always God first.

Always seeking his planets, his stars, his truth..

and maybe that's the adventure..

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elysiaaaaan · 4 years

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it’s been a while

it’s been a long time since I’ve written on here... since I’ve written on either of my accounts. It’s been a long time where I was sitting up at 2am in the morning, and I decided to write something. A lot has changed, for better and for worse, but frankly, there’s nothing that I would change about it.

I’m happy for the first time in a really long time. Genuinely, confidently, easily happy. I am constantly surrounded by people I want to spend time with, and I get to make the conscious choice of seeing them and keeping them in my life. I’m in college now. I’m actually in my second semester of college. I survived an entire semester of college. I didn’t just survive, I LIVED. Before college, I fell in and out of love. During the first semester, I met people, made friends, took chances, got hurt, hurt people. I learned about myself, learned to be vulnerable, learned I wasn’t invincible, gave into my weakness, vices, and fears. I also learned that anything can be overcome with sheer willpower, encouragement, and support.

I learned that keeping secrets doesn’t make them go away. I learned that when you can’t tell the people you trust the most your biggest fears, nightmares, and secrets, there’s something wrong. Things can change our entire life, and we won’t look at ourselves the same way anymore. Sometimes people will see us differently because of things we did. Sometimes, those people will be the people we hold dearest to us, and it’ll hurt. The things that happen in our life have a huge effect on who we are, but they don’t define who we are. We are constantly learning from our mistakes, changing our choices, and collecting new memories to share with other people. Life isn’t going to go how we plan, but we can’t control that. We can control ourselves and who we become.

We will falter. We will fall. We won’t be perfect. We will make mistakes, and it’ll hurt. It’ll suck, but there’s nothing we can’t come back from.

I’m more impatient with other people and more patient with myself. I realized my time is limited, and I don’t want to waste it. I’m not here to be regretful and waste my life on people who don’t respect my time as much as I respect theirs. I’m kind to people, but that doesn’t make me nice. I don’t sugar coat things as much anymore. I don’t beat around the bush. I tell the truth, and it hurts, and it’s harsh sometimes. But it’s necessary, and to me, withholding the truth from them is so much more toxic and hurtful than telling them the truth in the first place. I grew a thicker skin and started caring less about what people thought. There are only two people whose opinion I really should care about and that’s God and myself. Yes, the people around me have an influence around my life and help shape me into who I am, but they don’t have to live with me for the rest of my life. Every day, I see myself in the mirror, and I have to be okay with myself, my flaws, my mistakes, my past. Every day, I see myself, and I have to be proud of who I am and who I aspire to be including all my aspirations, dreams, desires, and wishes.

Lately, I haven’t been that person, but 2020 is the year that I put myself first. I have no problem and no issue with putting others first, but now I’ve come to a place where putting them before myself has hurt me more than I have benefitted them. I have watched people listen and hear my advice and throw it out the window too many times within the last year. I have lost too many people. I have had my heart broken, tarnished, abused, mistreated, taken for granted too many times. It made me bitter, sad, angry. I took it out on the world, and ultimately I hurt myself and someone who I value and cherish.

2019 put me through the wringer. It sucked me up and spit me back out. It took everything I thought I was and told me that I would never amount to that. I took a plunge into the deep end during 2019 and fell into a hole of self-loathing, hatred, and neglect. I didn’t realize this until the new year, but all the times I didn’t take care of myself was because I didn’t think I deserved to be taken care of.

2020 is a new year. 2020 is a year full of big things. 2020 will be full of healing, forgiveness, and grace. Not just to others, but to myself. 2020 is the year that I take my life back into my own hands and do what I need to do to be healthy again, to love myself again. 2020 will be the year where I’m no longer self-destructive.

2019, you have taught me lessons I wish I did not need to learn. You take away people that I didn’t think I would lose so soon. You pretty much sucked through and through, but the moments of revelation and exceptional happiness that I experienced, they were and will be cherished forevermore. The sweetness of those moments of excellence and victory will be the ones to continually motivate me and ultimately give me hope.

To 2020.

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daveywankenobie · 7 years

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In front of me as I start this post is an ice cold pint of Diet Coke and some rather nice looking daffodils. In all honesty I feel like today (more than most days) I really deserve this drink.

This morning I was wide awake at 2am.

I’m not sure if it was the neighbours having a row that woke me up or whether them shouting at each other only kept me awake – but eventually all I could do was write off the night and get up.

This wasn’t altogether a bad thing though. The clocks had changed and I’d had an early night so it wasn’t the end of the world.

As I sat awake I started looking for places that I might go for a walk today. I was at a loose end for the majority of Sunday, so getting a head start on some exercise seemed like a good way to begin my morning.

Workouts will be especially important to me this week. I have extra motivation thanks to my slower than usual weight loss last week. I want my twelve and a half stone certificate next Saturday, and to get it I need to lose 2.5lbs.

After a little browsing and researching I settled on the Malvern Hills.

I’ve been meaning to go for ages and have suggested it to lots of people but for whatever reason it’s just not happened or the weather has been miserable. Today however the forecast was excellent.

I see the Malvern Hills as a great way to test my limits. I’ve not been challenged by inclines on this level since I started losing weight. If I eventually want to do Snowdon I had to see what my stamina ceiling is.

It was totally dark when I got in the car, but by the time I arrived at my destination the sun was just coming up – and the car park (British Camp) was mostly deserted.

I guess in some respects this location for parking could be considered cheating.

It is after all a good half way up the full height of the hills, and designed for tourism with a hotel and a cafe nearby. According to the online guides however this route is a pretty steep incline and clearly is intended for fitter walkers. Initially I was going to go for another location which was ‘easy access’ with gentler inclines and smoother paths but as I passed British Camp I thought ‘What the hell! You don’t know until you try!’

Although the route I took to the summit wasn’t particularly far the steep slopes and killer steps meant this took me a little while – but nowhere near as long as I expected. I have to say I’m pretty impressed at how long it took for my legs to tire. Although I paused a few times for a breather I was at the top in a surprisingly quick time and admiring the view.

It was pretty windy when I got there so by the time I was standing at the top I really wished I’d bought a scarf as I suddenly had a totally frozen face and I really missed my beard. On the plus side thanks to the exercise I was nice and toasty everywhere else!

The main issue now though was – I was on the top – but what should I do next?

I looked around and quite a way away in the distance I could see a tiny stone column on top of another hill, so I thought I’d see if I could make my way toward it. Before long I’d travelled up and over a few more peaks and found myself at a stone signpost that was pointing at my objective.

Whatever it was it appeared to be on Midsummer hill, and the obelisk was called…. ‘obelisk’.

Descriptive. Clearly at this altitude there’s no need for further explanation.

No matter. An objective is an objective.

The path led through mud, sheep and some light woodland, but just over an hour after I’d left my car I was there! According to my watch I’d walked was just under two and a half miles – but truthfully it had felt quite a bit further.

Although I can clearly now do such a walk with relative ease (and even I felt I was rather brisk given its undulating nature) I’m not used to this kind of terrain at all. My knees really felt the strain on the downward sections.

I’d like to say the monument was a revelation and that revealing it’s secrets was worth the workout – but apart from being an impressive pile of bricks I can’t mislead you. The inscription was possibly interesting if you’re are a local Malvern historian, but otherwise… not so much.

The view from beside it however was fabulous! The hill that I stated at was now teeny tiny (it’s the lump in the middle on the left!)

At this point I thought I’d set my Apple Watch to a walking workout and go back the same way I came to see if I could do it quicker and get my pulse rate higher. The route was almost completely deserted when I started out – so even if I was a sweaty mess very few people would see me if I collapsed in a dripping heap.

I actually ended up getting a little sidetracked however.

I took a slightly longer route back (at least it seemed to be) because of this sign.

A frikkin GIANT’S CAVE?!!!!

How could I pass that up?! It was a cave – big enough for GIANTS!!! I immediately took the alternate path and headed for the underground cavern of wonders.

When I arrived there were already some giants standing at the cave mouth.

However – when I got closer I realised that they were actually a boringly normal family of people with a disappointingly small child and a cute dog.

Furthermore my cave of wonders was SIX FOOT DEEP AND SIX FOOT HIGH.

As the family left they said ‘there’s a giant hand print at the back!!! As they walked away throwing sticks for their delightful pooch I ventured in to see the GIANT HAND PRINT.

So it’s fair to say that Malvenians (or whatever the people who live in this area like to call themselves) are a whimsical bunch like to be understated when describing their monuments and overstated when describing their cracks in rocks and daubing on walls.

It was a good workout though and I can’t complain!

The views were superb and all the the paths were well maintained, clear and easily navigable (if sometimes a little rustic). Sadly though by the time I sat down in the hotel nearby where I’d parked (after travelling back down the really steep slopes at the start of the day) my knees were killing me.

This was a bit annoying – as I felt like I hadn’t done a whole lot. My leg muscles felt like they had way more in them, but my knees (particularly tendons I think) were screaming – a pain I’m not used to at all.

After sitting for a while to let it wear off I decided that since I’d already paid for the all day parking that I’d just take it slow, carry on and walk down the path alongside the road to the bottom of the hill.

I had originally planned to walk the rest of the range of hills behind the hotel as well, but when it came down to it although I wasn’t phased by the prospect of the climb I couldn’t face any more ridiculous downward inclines. The road too was downhill – but nowhere near as bad as the walk I’d just done.

Plus – at least if I walked to the bottom of the hill I’d just stood at the top of (and back up) at least I could say I’d walked completely from the bottom to the top!

As I was heading down with this new objective in mind I noticed toward the bottom of the slope people were leaving a really nice looking church after a morning service with daffodils clutched in their hands. While stepping around them as they got into their cars I noticed that I was standing next to a famous grave.

Sir Edward Elgar was buried in the cemetery, so I thought that while I was there I might as well take a look.

Compared to the cave and the monument this at least delivered on the promise of being a grave. I couldn’t fault its ‘graveness’ and since I’ve never before visited the grave of someone that was famous I think I can tick this off my bucket list.

‘Visited the grave of Elgar.’

Tick.

Thats one more thing I don’t have to do before I die!

At this point my already painful knees were now really really painful so I decided to walk back up the hill to my car and make my way home.

Again I set my Apple Watch workout to capture what I was doing. Although the lower part of the gradient was gentle it was continuously uphill for over a mile (with 288ft of elevation) and became quite a bit steeper the closer it got to the British Camp car park. My heart rate was continually at 138/140 bpm toward the end and I still felt I could keep going.

I didn’t have to stop once and I actually really enjoyed feeling the burn!

By the time I’d reached my car I’d walked a total of almost nine (pretty punishing) miles around Malvern. During them my watch considered 112 minutes of my movement to be exercise/cardio. I burned 1750/4099 active/total calories – which should help towards the weight I want to lose next week!

Now I’m home and I’m absolutely knackered – but today has been a big step. I’ve experimented and I’ve found yet more places I can go and more things that I can do.

I have walked up and down gradients that not so very long ago I simply wouldn’t have been able to – and regardless of my knees I loved every minute of it!

A year ago internet I wouldn’t have even gotten out of the car. I’d have driven past and looked at the view from within my comfortable little bubble.

Thats never, ever, ever, ever going to happen again.

Davey

Malvern Knees In front of me as I start this post is an ice cold pint of Diet Coke and some rather nice looking daffodils.

#Fitness #Health #Positive Thinking #Slimming World #Weight loss

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thepandashrine · 7 years

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Burden

It’s been months, and I’m still made of glass. Months of trying to heal my relationship with Cam, followed by months of trying to rebuild myself from the destroyed heap I had become in his wake. At the writing of my last post, I thought he was gone for good, but I was wrong. I met a guy soon after that and agreed, after many consecutive days of him asking me out, to a date. The day before this date, I sent Cam the first text in a week to tell him my parents knew we had split and that oh, by the way, a boy asked me out. Part of this was to poke the bear and see his reaction, and part was because if we had switched places, I would rather know than not. This opened the floodgates and we talked for several hours. When Sam picked me up at work the next day, Cam was a mess. He spent my whole date texting me and having anxiety at home, freaking out. He hated that I was out. I loved it. I loved feeling important to him, even if it was just jealousy and possessiveness. I never saw Sam again, but this led to months of Cam and I trying to maintain some hideous falsified level of normalcy and couple-ness, reaching its apex with a trip to Kelowna to visit his parents, and culminating the day after I graduated university when we finally split for good. From August to November 23, we built a house out of bullshit and called it a home. December 5th he got a new girlfriend. I was crushed and furious and horrified.

It’s now March. I don’t live in constant pain anymore, and I haven’t self harmed since August. I don’t cry every day. I sleep well at night. For all intents and purposes, I’m okay. Well, I thought I was.

I spent the first half of December mourning my loss, grieving for the life I thought I would have and the person I thought I would share it with. The second half of December I fucked 3 guys in 10 days. In early January, I started doing porn, of non-traditional sorts. In mid January, I met a boy.

I assumed that since I was breathing again, living my life and laughing and going on adventures and open to possibilities that I had healed. I stopped checking his instagram account from my roommates profile and didn’t bitch about him to my friends anymore. I felt fine, considering. I felt level and semi-stable.

Mitchel and I started talking- he was sweet and funny and clever, and he always replied quickly to my texts. He consistently gave me compliments until I almost believed them. We met on Tinder of course, and corresponded through messages and texts and Snapchat for quite a while before meeting. By the time he finally showed up at my door (after switching his flights, lying to his mum, and jumping through so many hoops to get there), I was sold.

The situation was perfect. He was set to move in a few months, meaning 0 commitment necessary. He made me feel good about myself and could handle my attitude. We were both half blind, left wing, feminist, tree hugging nerds and when we talked it just fit. It had all the perks of a great relationship without the when-will-it-end anxiety. I planned to take this gift and run with it. cramming the coming months with as much positivity, fun, sex, and romantic bliss as I goddam could. I wanted to lay in bed together, have sleep overs, go for breakfast at 2am, take him to the End of The World to see the stars and lights, walk our dogs together, go to the water park, see movies, go on drives, fuck in crazy places, go for weekends away, get drunk on Whyte Ave, hang out with our friends, eat dessert in nice cafes, go for long walks, see beautiful views, play board games, and eat pizza in our underwear. I wanted to learn him inside out and eat his perspectives and knowledge and experiences for dinner.I felt open and comfortable with him and with myself and wanted to revel in this until the day he got on that plane. and then I could watch it end with 0 regret and know I had these few months of positive energy and joy with another person. I joked about moving to London with him, but that isn’t something you do on a whim and definitely not something you do for a random boy you barely know/ Having an end date was part of the magic- it took the pressure away.

One thing I didn’t count on, however, is how fragile I remain. I know I am not healed, but I thought that I was still doing pretty alright.

As the first month came and went, things started dying down. Immediate text replies became replies an hour or two later. Sexy snapchats stopped being a thing, as did dirty talk and flirting. Hanging out twice a week or so became once a week, and only when I planned it. Most of the time we just laid in bed and watched Netflix (still using Cam’s account), or ate food. I dragged him out for Valentines Day and we had a blast, but it took some pushing to get him to agree. Each individual instance was generally understandable, but overall I stopped feeling the rush of the possibilities that appear when you meet someone amazing, and instead started feeling like I was on another sinking ship. Like with Matt or Cam, I got the feeling I was just too much trouble to be with, that he had better things to do and better people to occupy himself with. I felt like a chore.

I could shrug it off when he wasnt available due to work or plans with other people, but eventually the plans I was being bumped for became “laying in bed” and “staying in”. I was being out-prioritized by napping and television and it cut me deep. Again, my glass started to crack and I was feeling myself come apart. It hurts to feel like I’m regressing, but maybe I’m just taking off my fake happy mask to reveal how I actually am- sad, broken, and weird. I just spent 3 months allowing Cam to make me feel like anything aside from sex was a pain in the ass for him to deal with, and now here I am, feeling like a pain again. I did talk to him about it, and his response was an apology and to immediately drive to my house to visit me. A week later I felt that way again and ended up back in the Dark Place. I was so miserable and felt so alone... I felt like a burden to everyone, like I would be lonely forever because I was just too much to handle, too needy, too weird, too broken and unstable. I was a mess all day at work, but the thought of going home afterwards and sitting alone in my room was unbearable. Mitchel unsurprisingly didn’t want to come over, so I went back on tinder for the first time in a while to try and find someone to make me feel less ugly and alone. If my options were to sit home alone and cry, or invite a stranger over and fuck him for warmth, I chose door #2. To his credit, when Mitchel found this out, he once again drove to my rescue. Twice in a week he showed up for me, but not because he wanted to be with me. Even though it was a kind gesture, that still soured it to an extent. In that situation though, I found being with someone because the feel bad for you is still better than being alone.

I guess I foresaw something more exciting, more adventurous. The time limit lit a fire under my ass to create these experiences with him, but it seemed to discourage him from trying. Maybe the excitement is gone for him. Maybe he doesn’t really like me anymore. I don’t know. The fun guy who travels the world and takes me away for weekends by the lake seems to have been replaced by a guy who texts me during his lunch break at work and between naps, and would rather watch tv than go out or come over.

I’m at my ropes end at this point, because I just dont have it in me to chase him. I’m exhausted and beaten and it’s a waste of my time. If he doesn’t want me, I’ll walk, thats fine. I just cant stomach feeling like a burden again, I can’t handle feeling like I felt last year. I won’t survive it.

#dating #tinder #boys

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