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yourlocaltreesimp · 8 months

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Falling for you, a little too literally

SS!Link x Reader

TW: Attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, implied SH, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone lives, soulmate AU if you squint.

Hope y’all enjoy, let me know what y’all wanna next! Not beta read and i’ve been up for 18 hours 😙✌️

-🌲

It didn’t take a genius for someone to know something was up. Your best friend was missing, your other (definitely not romantically interested) best friend chased after her, and you were left alone. Normally, this wouldn’t bother you too much. Between all of your classes, working maintenance at the bazaar and every other little task of life, you get busy every now and then. You appreciated a little time alone every now and then especially when things got rough. But that’s not to say you didn’t miss Link nor Zelda. No. It was quiet cold nights like this things got bad. Skyloft is tiny, suffocating, even. Everyone breathing down your neck and all the eyes watching and all the expectations…. You were the equivalent of glass beneath someone’s boots. But this time, there was no one to pick up the shards left of you. No one to cradle the broken pieces and reassure you that it’d all be ok. No one to wrap up your wrists after you searched out the proof of your humanity, proof of you not being a monster despite feeling otherwise. No. Today you were alone. And you were yesterday and you would be tomorrow. You were honestly just tired. So many sympathetic stares and questions, so many people trying so hard to make you feel seen and yet they never listen when the words finally spill. They’d tell you they cared and yet they never acted like it when you were down to the wire. With a heavy sigh you pushed yourself off the floor of your dorm room.

It took roughly 10 minutes to see everything again, sneaking through the knight’s hall, your eyes lingering on Link’s door for half a second to long. You felt a tug dragging your heart downward, your mind starting its spiral again. You passed by everything you wanted to see one last time. The goddess statue, The bazaar, The main plaza, the lake before finally getting where you needed to go. The wind pushed you to the tombstone, you kicked it to the side and watched the tiny passage open. You fell through to the wooden platform below, leaving you alone at last. Truly alone. No one to stop you from leaving this time.

Link POV:

Battered and bruised he stumbled out of the temple, Eldin’s heat causing his caramel locks to stick to his forehead. Too late. He was too late. Too slow. Not enough. Never enough. He sighed, the image of you flicking through his mind. He hoped so badly he was enough for you. Sometimes it’s all that kept him going, those funny little memories. Cooking when you’d both missed dinner, flying around on your loftwings, sharing gifts on the winters solstice, all proof he was enough. That he was loved. He hoped you knew you were loved to. He hoped so much for you both, hoped even when you couldn’t. Hoped that there’d be brighter days for you both, hoped he could make it back to you alive. Hoped that one day your eyes would meet his with the same amount of adoration. Goddesses, He hoped.

Walking up to the stone carved loftwing, a breeze of wind sent him upward with his sailcloth. He extended his arms, letting the wind greet him before whistling for Crimson. But… something was off. Crimson lunged and dived erratically, never following his directions, something Link hadn’t seen before from his avian companion. So, with hesitance, He let Crimson fly. He would’ve been impressed at the speeds he managed to gain, Skyloft no longer a tiny dot in the sky, but a quickly approaching landmark. But his heart sank quickly from its place when he realised what it was that had Crimson riled up. His other half was falling and there would be not (f/c) loftwing to catch them.

You POV:

The wind felt nice brushing past your fingertips, a (f/c) feather loosely pinched between your forefinger and thumb. Your other half. You hoped they wouldn’t be lonely when you were gone. Ownerless Loftwings usually weren’t cared for as well, not fairing well without their beloved hylian. But maybe Link and Zelda would take care of them. Maybe. Your hair was in tangles as you finally met the clouds, finally dismissing your title as burden, finally freeing those around you from needing to worry. Your weight lurched upward, stomach twisting at the sudden deceleration. You hadn’t whistled for your loftwing? Why are you?- Your fingers were met with soft carmine down, your frame cradled between familiar arms.

“Link - I…” You were breathless, perhaps the air was thin or you were too flustered to speak. He was silent, One hand wrapping around your mid to pull you closer to his front as you flew. He navigated to the closest island, a small patch of dirt and grass, a little tree near its center. He offered a calloused hand after you landed. You didn’t look him in the eye as you dismounted the loftwing, to scared the shame his stare would bring you.

“(y/n)” His voice, you’d been longing to hear it for weeks. To soft and rhythmic, a song to your ears. But now, you felt ashamed for causing him such worry, even with all that’s happened with Zelda, you still managed to make yourself a nuiscence. His hands reached for yours, taking them ever so gently, as if cherishing them. You met his eyes, the color of storms, of the bold sky, your favorite color. He looked so tiered, freckled skin slightly sunburnt, hair tousled, eyes pooled with worry. But before you could find it in you to feel worse, he pulled you close. He hugged you so tightly, as if you’d run to fall again the second his grip faltered. He buried his face in your hair, kissing the crown of your head and keeping you there, not a single word said. And it was like all the pressure on you finally shattered, you sank into him, and let yourself break. He held you so carefully as you sobbed into his tunic. He whispered all sorts of comforting things into you ears, but you get a sense of pleading urgency within his voice you hadn’t caught before.

“Please don’t leave. Don’t go. I won’t need to long. I won’t be late to save you. I’ve got you, i’ll be here as long as you need. Sky or surface, i’d find you if it ment i could have you again.” His words were a quiet promise between the two of you as he pressed soft kisses to either side your temples, eyes searching your own. You guided one of his hands to your cheek, unable to stop yourself from its warmth. He was enamoured by your actions, letting you do as you pleased so long as you’d be happy. You pressed a small kiss to the inner of his wrist and were met with a small, albeit tired smile.

“If you fall, i’ll catch you. Just maybe not that literally next time”

You both laughed lightly, he’d always made things a little lighter. And with his goofy smile you couldn’t go without seeing, you finally gave in. He kept that same wobbly smile as your lips met, content to just have one another once again? even if the situation that led you here was difficult to navigate. You looked between your childhood friend, and his loftwing that had saved you when no one else even knew you had fallen. Perhaps it was your soul that had called out. Perhaps your other half had heard your souls last weeping cry and responded. But it didn’t matter when you had your hero to chase away the bad thoughts what led you to the ledge. Not a knight or the Hero. Your knight, Your Hero, Your Link.

#legend of zelda #link x reader #link x you #skyward link #skyward sword #hurt/comfort #x reader #y/n #fir’s library

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faela404 · 1 year

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☆The Library ☆

kazuha x gn! reader

prompt: - you and kazuha attend the same university, him being a english lit major and you being a person in stem😎 your paths never crossed until that day in the library…

*this is an smau so please do expect a lot of twitter posts and messages to read, there will be proper writing too but, it will mostly be that!!*

warning! this chapter involves mentions of self- neglect, possible eating disorders, insomnia, swearing, implications of inappropriate acts (though it never happened), mentions of anxiety and biblical references (kinda? idk jesus and the bible was mentioned in a lighthearted manner)

masterlist - prev | next

☆it was a mistake ☆

i’ve been sitting here, on my phone, for over 6 hours now. this isn’t good. i’ve forgotten to eat again.

i’ve never been too good at taking care of myself, most the time i’m too engrossed in what im doing to remember that i need to eat, drink or even use the bathroom. however, recently it’s been getting worse. before, i would be able to remember by atleast 7pm but lately, i’ve been having my dinners at 12am, sometimes even later.

i suppose i should be happy i remembered just before midnight this time, but i just don’t see it that way. to me, this is still a failure.

pulling myself out of the warm comfort of my bed below me, i wandered out towards the kitchen. we never tend to have much food in, with us being university students it can be hard to get enough money for such necessities. nonetheless, i managed to find a packet of chicken super noodles (if you don’t know what these are or don’t eat chicken, just read it as your favourite type of instant noodles😌). careful i pulled open the bag and dumped the contents out into my bowl, along with the flavoured powder and some hot water from the kettle, before putting this in the microwave.

after finishing my noodles and placing the bowl in the sink to wash up another day, i once again returned to the comfort of my bed and bright phone screen.

i didn’t get to bed until 3:49am.

i woke up too late, again.

i’m going to be in so much trouble.

i wish my class wasn’t so small, then maybe the professor wouldn’t notice me as i slip through the door and attempt to make my way to my seat.

we’re doing lab work.

she notices me.

“how lovely of you to finally join us, y/n” god did she have to say it so loud. i feel so many eyes on me but, i can’t falter. i try my hardest to ignore them as she continues to speak.

“please stay behind once class is finished y/n, we need to talk” she sounds so smug. i give a curt nod and quickly scurry to my lab partner.

i must look disheveled, i can feel how red my face is, the sweat dripping down my neck- getting caught on the neckline of my shirt. mascara from yesterday is sure to be lining the underneath of my eyes.

my lab partner, lumine, looks worried. however, she seems to ignore my disgusting outward appearance as she begins to explain the experiment to me, giving me time to write down her words and the results.

class wraps up quickly. everyone begins to shuffle out, talking to eachother of their weekend plans, but not me.

i make my way towards professor ningguang. she looks angry but, she doesn’t shout.

“i did warn you there would be consequences if you was absent again, didn’t i?”

i’m so nervous, i’ve never gotten into trouble before.

“yes, professor but, i wasn’t able to get much sleep i’ve haven’t been able to-“

she cuts me off. she’s angrier than she’s letting on.

“i don’t have time for your excuses, y/n. you have been late 5 times in the past 2 weeks, that is completely unacceptable. however, with only 3 weeks left of school before winter break, i can’t give you the standard punishment for a disobedience such as this. instead, you will help out the librarian. ms. lisa has been complaining recently of the mess the library has become. for the next 3 weeks, you will go to the library after school and clean it until there isn’t a spec of dust left, do i make myself clear?”

im not sure if it was the nerves or the fear of her telling me this in such a calm way, but i made no move to object. i simply nodded and left as she dismissed me.

it wasn’t until i got back to my dorm that it truly sank in.

are. you. fucking. kidding. me?!

clean the library? everyday? for 3 weeks?!

i suppose it could be worse, but come on! i have a life, i have homework! i can’t dedicate every evening to cleaning a stupid library!

god, this is going to be miserable.

a/n - ahhhh this was so fun to create! i can’t wait for ya’ll to see the next part! i hope you enjoyed this and will enjoy the rest of the series! take care of yourselves <3

taglist- open! @kazuhaprnt

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austinsmutler · 2 years

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Dancing in the Dark | Austin Butler x Reader | One Shot

Summary: Reader is having a hard time with her mental health and Austin wants to comfort her.

Pairing: Austin Butler x Reader

Word Count: 797

What you’ll like: This one is heavy on the hurt/comfort and emotional intimacy. Austin understands what you're going through with your mental health and I hope it's healing to read.

Warnings: Big ol' trigger warning for those of you struggling with your mental health. Reader is going through a hard time with depression and anxiety in this. There is no mention of self-harm, suicide or any of that, but she's having thoughts and insecurities that go hand-in-hand with a mental health crisis. Brief mention of alcohol.

If the above is something you can't deal with right now, don't worry! Look after yourself first and read Everyday instead- it's a soft, fluffy AustinxReader oneshot with 0 trigger warnings!

A/N: Not gonna lie, my mental health hasn't been great lately. But knowing that Austin Butler can be as confident as Elvis, rolling around onstage like a ferret in heat in front of hundreds of people, and then go on Jimmy Fallon and shake from anxiety? That helps.

I hope this helps you, too.

Listening to Dancing in the Dark by Bruce Springsteen is also great.

Masterlist | Requests are currently open (Please tell me everything you want! Confess your sins! Have a good time with it!)

“What do you say to yourself, in those moments?”

Austin’s question came as a surprise. You were laying together on the couch with him watching TV and you reading a book, head on his lap. His fingers played with your hair, but stopped when you stiffened up.

“What moments?” You tried not to freak out, but your heart betrayed you by leaping to your throat. You closed the book you’d been mindlessly enjoying just a minute before, but didn’t look up to meet your boyfriend’s eyes.

“You know. Those moments.”

You did know. Those moments came like contractions, getting closer and closer together until the pain was overwhelming; but you weren’t pregnant. You were just depressed. And it was getting worse. Austin noticed it first, when you started sleeping in all day on weekends and stopped doing the little things like loading the dishwasher and folding your clothes, which stayed in a pile of clean-and-dirty in the corner of the bedroom. Other people were starting to notice the way you clung to your wine glass at dinner parties, making sure it never emptied. Work was starting to notice little mistakes that were ‘very unlike you’ according to your manager. Put simply: you weren’t okay.

“Why are we talking about this now?” You muttered, fingernails digging into the spine of your book, leaving crescent indents in the glue there. Great, now I’ve ruined the book too.

“Because I’m worried. You’ve been reading that same page for 30 minutes now.”

“It’s got some big words in it.”

Even without looking, you knew the expression on Austin’s face. The one that said, Come on, talk to me. A sigh boiled over the back of your throat and escaped, like you were an air mattress slowly deflating. When you finally met his eyes, they were soft. The same blue eyes you fell in love with. His fingers rubbed soothing circles on your scalp, playing with your hair.

“I don’t know. I can’t control it. I know it’s stupid and not true, but I believe it anyway. I’ll tell myself I’m dumb, and ugly, and ungrateful and boring. Then my brain opens a whole filing cabinet of things I’ve done wrong, everything from yesterday to a decade ago.”

You swallowed and closed your eyes, not wanting Austin to look at you. “When I was six years old, I made my baby sister cry because I pinched her cheek too hard. That’ll just pop into my mind, and it won’t leave. I’ll think, how could I do that? Why did I do that? Then I’ll blame myself for feeling guilty, because what normal person blames themself for something they did when they were still a toddler?”

Austin tilted your chin so you were looking up at him again. His expression was gentle; curious.

“In your defence, Rosie does like to push your buttons.”

You laughed, the sound coming out strangled from your choked-up throat.

“How are you feeling about your appointment?”

Therapy. You’d been before, and you’d go again- this Sunday, in fact.

“Alright.” You swallowed. The tightness of your throat was starting to ease, even if your stomach still churned like a meat-grinder. “I know this stuff isn’t meant to be a straight line.”

“It never is.” He sighed.

Austin had his own experiences- he hadn’t slept for two years while he filmed Elvis, waking up in the middle of the night and going downstairs to watch old interviews, read old books. You’d wake up and find him with dark circles under his eyes, mumbling quotes in a voice that wasn’t really his. It was haunting to watch the man you loved go through so much stress. Then the movie came out, everyone fell in love with him, but the stress stayed. Muted, but visible in the way his hands shook on Jimmy Fallon, at press events, even when you were hand-in-hand on the red carpet.

“But it does get better, right?” No matter how little sleep he’d had, Austin always seemed to deal with it better than you. Even on the days when you found him with red eyes, shaking, curled into a ball with an Elvis concert playing on his laptop, he still had remarkable control of himself. He rarely took it out on you, and he never gave up trying. He slept soundly nowadays, the two of you wrapped tight together in bed until the early hours of every morning.

“It does. You learn to live with it.” Austin leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m proud of you for getting help.”

“Thank you.” You’d been together so long it was easy to forget how much you loved hearing those words, most feelings expressed through actions and shared looks instead of words.

I’m proud of you.

#did i just make myself cry #maybe a little #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fic #austin butler #austin!elvis #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler elvis #elvis movie 2022 #austin hurt comfort fic #austin butler comfort

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husbandhannie · 2 years

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moments of domesticity

pairing: mingyu (seventeen) x reader

word count: 900

warnings: sexual innuendoes, nothing graphic

a/n: inspired by the recent mingyu photoshoot. i don't know how good these are, but i wanted to write them down so they'd stop circling in my mind xD

taglist: @itsveronicaxxx @zurikyo @husbandhoshi @kimhyejin3108 @starlightjoong

ONE: the two of you are in the kitchen, leaning against the slab and sipping tea. the toaster broke down yesterday so mingyu is making toasted sandwich on the stove.

"are you sure you know what you're doing?", you ask him again, watching as he flips the sandwich.

"it'll be fine", he reassures you patiently, "have I ever fed you anything bad?"

he has a point.

"just making sure", you place your tea cup next to his and wrap your arms around him as you hug his back, smiling when you feel him place a hand over yours.

"done", his voice is softer now, his hands pulling you to face him, "i think i deserve payment for my labor".

you giggle and kiss him, your hands tracing his soft pink robe, your smile matching his. you pull back and bump his nose against yours, watching giddily as he lets out a chuckle.

"what plans do we have today?", mingyu asks while cutting the sandwich diagonally.

"well", you pick your cup, "shower, then some home stuff at the market, a late lunch, that movie we said we'd watch, and dinner? i think that's it?"

"sounds good", he peels a banana, "we can take a shower together and save some time, try to not have the lunch so late? the dinner will be heavy".

"sure", you drawl, raising your eyebrows suggestively when mingyu looks at you questioningly.

you can't help but chuckle when he rolls his eyes, a reluctant smile forming on his face. both of you know better than to get frisky in the bathroom, especially since you like your new shower curtain.

TWO: mingyu is in the bathroom, rinsing away some sauce he managed to get in his hair during lunch. you approach him to talk about dinner, leaning against the doorway while he dries his hair.

"i know that we just came back from the market", you start, "but i just checked and we're out of rice".

"we're out of rice?", mingyu repeats with disbelief.

you wince at his surprised tone. you ensure that the kitchen is stocked and he takes care of the cooking - and the distribution has worked well for the two of you. you can't remember the last time you missed such a crucial ingredient being out of stock.

"yeah", you sound even more apologetic, "i don't know how this happened, i generally keep track, i'll go now and get it -"

"i'll come with you, just give me a few", his eyes meet yours in the mirror, "and don't worry about it, it happens", he pauses and adds humorously, "atleast you didn't break the toaster".

you chuckle. yesterday's toaster incident will stay on your mind for a while.

your eyes inadvertently focus on mingyu's reflection in the mirror as he meticulously dries strands of his hair. one might think that you'd get used to his beauty after years of knowing him so intimately, but no - it seems he just gets better-looking. god truly has her favorites.

"like the view?", he's caught you staring, knowing eyes meeting yours in the glass.

"why, yes i do", you manage to keep your voice straight, "you're very pretty".

your heart swells when you see the clear blush on his cheeks, his eyes looking down as he manages to whisper a shy "thank you".

one might think that after all this time, mingyu might be better at accepting compliments. but no - he gets as bashful as he did the first night he spent in your bed.

THREE: mingyu is in the bathroom, brushing his teeth before you retire for bed.

"bbbbmmmbbb", you hear him mumble loudly, interrupting your reading.

"mingyu?", you put down your book and walk to the bathroom door, watching as he cumsily manages to touch his shoulder to his face, looking at you meaningfully.

"what?", you're bewildered, "what do you - oh".

he's wearing his glasses. one of his hands has a toothbrush and the other is holding a towel. why he didn't put down the towel to take them off is beyond you.

"you've been wearing them for how long now? stay still", you slowly pull the glasses, folding them once you're done, "how do you still manage it?"

he gives you a puppy-eyed look, and you shake your head.

"i'll put these on the nightstand", you kiss his shoulder and leave, chuckling out a "yeah, yeah" when he mumbles an "mai-mome-moo".

FOUR: you and mingyu are lying in bed, your leg draped on his and your fingers tracing his chest. the only light in the room is from the moon through the window.

your fingers reach up to touch his face, pressing his nose suddenly.

"did you just -", you do it again, "you did", you do it again, "stop booping my nose".

"or what?", you tease, squealing when he catches your hand and pins it on the bed, moving to hover over you.

"or", his lips touch the bottom of your ear, "i'll marry you".

you bite your lip to stop the stupid smile threatening to break on your face. his statement doesn't even make sense, but the reference never fails to make you giddy.

the sapphire and platinum engagement ring sits in its box inside the bottom drawer of the nightstand, safe from being lost from your fingers - for you are almost as clumsy as your fiancè.

#seventeen fluff #mingyu fluff #seventeen #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #svt #svt fluff

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apprenticestanheight · 2 months

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All is Well That Ends Well - Lawrence Gordon x gn! afab! reader - Part IV

Annnnnnnnnd, an hour and eleven minutes later, here's part four!! the next parts will be released on the seventh and fourteenth and then, unless I can manage to get a lot of writing done in not a lot of time, there'll probably be a bit of a delay between the end of The Beginning and the beginning of The Middle (I promise better titles will be created for these sections I am just. I am just terrible at titling and pull stuff out of a hat a lot of the time) but at the latest, the Middle will start in late march-early april.

Fic type - this one is so smutty, but it's also fluffy, so it's fluff that leads up into smut

Warnings - minors,, DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT THANK YOU, oral, cockwarming, edging (kind of??) mentions of the loss of Lawrences foot + prosthetics and pain and itching associated with wearing them too long

A few days pass, and on that Wednesday, after all of your classes were cancelled from a snowstorm, you wake up at eight and make a list with Aurelie over the phone of things you need to grab, organized by room for your own convenience.

For your bedroom you need to get a nightstand, wardrobe, a lamp or two, and better sheets and blankets than the ones you’d had for a decade, which were on their last legs as it were.

For the bathrooms—of which there are two, one in the primary suite and the other across the hall from one of the other two bedrooms—you need shower curtains, bathmats, and small bins to hold random essentials like pads, tampons, Band-Aids and anything else someone might need short notice, as well as trash cans and garbage bags accordingly.

The living and dining rooms are where stuff gets pricey—you need a couch, love seat, rocking chair, coffee table, television and a stand, curtains, maybe a rug and definitely a dining table.

For one of the other two bedrooms, you require an additional bed and curtains so that it can serve as the guest space. For the other of the two bedrooms, you need curtains, bookshelves, a comfy daybed, a desk and a rolling chair so that it can act as a library-slash-office space for studying and reading.

Since you figure Lawrence is working, Aurelie helps you get most of it. A lot of it came from IKEA for the sake of your own convenience but you refused, blatantly, to buy a bed or couch or even so much as a rocking chair from there, so it was a fairly cheap trip.

You grab the bed from the same spot you got the one you’d bought for yourself six months before, when the bed you’d had got lumpy and it became clear just how old it was—a local furniture store that was a twenty minute drive out and did same-day delivery fee at no additional cost.

The rocking chair, couch, coffee table, love seat, wardrobe and daybed were purchased from a furniture store one of your bosses had recommended. It was a forty minute drive from the condo but so worth it as they delivered to your apartment for only an additional $20.

Once the furniture shopping is complete you grab groceries and are home to unload them at half past four, making quick work of it because all you want to do is lie on your couch and make a bad decision or two.

You call Lawrence, exhausted but wanting to test out the couch in more ways than just sitting on the damn thing, at five o’clock on the dot. He answers on the second ring.

“How’d furniture shopping go?” He greets.

You bite your lip to fend off a smile. “Aurelie did it with me—sorry for not calling you, I figured you were working and the places I went to for the bigger things do delivery—and now I’m just sitting, lonely. Kind of want to order take out, honestly, but Aurelie has studying to do and I’m assuming you’re still at work.”

“Just left, actually,” Lawrence says. “I can come over if you’d like? We can talk for a bit and, assuming there are groceries in your fridge today unlike yesterday, I can make dinner. Takeaway is decent but food that takes effort is good, too.”

“I didn’t come close to spending a quarter of the rainy day fund,” you say. “I told myself I’d spend five thousand at most, and I spent close to five thousand, yeah, but still. The way I see it, I have sixty dollars to blow on take out and if you really must cook me dinner, you can do so Friday night. I like things more even and unless you’d prefer that I spent the $60 on weed, I’d really like to see you.”

Lawrence laughs. “I think I’ve realized what you aim to get from me,” he says. “I thought I’d be the one making those types of calls or coming into the condo with my spare key and groping you while you read whichever book you’re reading at that point in time.”

You laugh seductively. “That’ll come up in the next few weeks, I imagine,” you say. “However, right now I am exhausted, need something in my something and this couch is way too big for one person. Grabbed an L shaped one so that I could take a nap on it on a lazier Sunday afternoon but today was not lazy or a Sunday. Today was productive and if I don’t see you in the next thirty minutes, I will drive my ass back to where I vaguely remember your house being and knock on a door, one that I can only I hope is yours so that I can make the first $2000 you’ll give me on whichever day within the next week so worth your while that it hurts.”

“You’ll get it Saturday,” Lawrence says. “The first installment.”

“Get your ass to this condo or so help me God—”

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” Lawrence laughs. “Mouthing me off is not recommended.”

“There can’t be too many punishments out there. I like it when pain gets involved. Being thrown and smacked around just gets me wet.”

“There are ways to torture you without being aggressive. Be a good puppy and wait for me, yeah?”

You roll your eyes. One sexual encounter a few days prior and he knows, already, that calling you his puppy is the quickest way to get you to submit.

“Yeah, Lawrence,” you say. “Of course.”

“Good,” he says. “You can wait fifteen minutes without touching yourself, can’t you?”

Without meaning to, you grind helplessly against the hem of your jeans.

“Mhm.”

“Good puppy.”

And then the call is done, and you’re going to your bedroom to swap your day clothes for something more comfortable—a black hoodie you’d owned since you started in the PhD program at 26 that you’d accidentally ordered around six sizes too big—and strip of everything else.

You head back into the living room, clad in nothing but a baggy hoodie. It leaves your clit, folds, and breasts open to the wintery cold updraft, which forces you to grab a throw blanket and toss it over your legs.

The ten minutes to proceed those events are spent reading a romance novel that you’d put on your coffee table for decoration, and when you hear the sound of Lawrences spare key entering the slot on the door, you grin.

He closes the door behind him lightly, grins when he meets your gaze, and you look him over.

He looks good in a way that makes you almost insatiable—navy blue button up shirt, black slacks, white doctors coat hanging loosely off his shoulders. His hair is handsomely unkempt, and he looks like the picture of laidback professionalism.

He takes the white coat off, drapes it over the top of your loveseat.

“You look cute,” he says. “Waited for me on the couch the entire time?”

You nod, standing up without thinking twice about it. “You said to wait. I did.”

He steps towards you, intentionally walking slowly. “Are you wearing anything beneath the hoodie, puppy?”

You shake your head. “I’m not. I always wear the hoodie like this—it’s comfortable for me,” it’s a lie, of course, but you just have to hope it’s not a very obvious one.

“Is it really?” He asks. When you bite your lip, he laughs.

“I don’t like liars,” he says. “If you decided to forgo anything beneath it because of me, you’re allowed to be honest. I find honesty preferable to lies, even if the way that you bite your lip and how fucking good you look makes me want to bend you over the arm of the couch and use you to my preference.”

You nod. “I wore it like this for conveniences sake,” you admit. “Was a bit warm, too, and needed to cool off, even though I regretted that almost instantly because it's the fucking winter. Figured you’d have an easier time touching me if I wore nothing underneath the sweater.”

Lawrence takes another step and is finally within arms reach.

“I’ll buy us dinner,” he says. “You can use the sixty for a nice lingerie set if you want, or maybe a few new books, but I have to get you back for thinking of how to dress in a manner that conveniences me.”

“You’re giving me four thousand dollars this month. I am not letting you buy dinner.”

“New rule, then,” he says. “Rule number four: in addition to the four thousand dollars monthly, I get to buy you dinner and gifts whenever I please.”

“You’re only doing that out of spite,” you say pointedly. “You said four thousand was the max amount you could give me while living within your means.”

“I said it was the amount I could give you, not the max amount,” Lawrence says. “Realistically I could afford close to five thousand, but I figured that spoiling you to some extent would come into play at one point or the next, so I rounded down.”

“Fine,” you nod. “I accept the rule. What’s your favorite color?”

“That’s a tie between dark blue, dark green, and maroon,” he says. “Why do you ask?”

You bite your bottom lip lightly. “While I am privy to owning a decent set to feel confident once in a while, I do want it to look so good that you can’t resist the urge to see what’s underneath. Your favorite color is the place to start in figuring that out, one would think.”

He puts one hand on your hip, a smirk kicking up the corner of his mouth. “I won’t be needed at work until nine tomorrow morning,” he says. “I’m going to make this worth it for us both, mm?”

You nod. All you want him to do is either start rubbing your clit while he kisses you, or for his fingers to be in your mouth again.

“Hows the oral fixation?”

“Still doing it’s thing,” you say, biting your lip again. “Why?”

“Be a good puppy for me and kneel, Y/N.”

You do as he says without having to think twice, becoming eye-level with his half hard cock and almost moaning as you look at it.

“What do you wanna do from where you are?” Your gaze goes to his.

Your tongue pokes out from between your lips, and suddenly thoughts of sucking him off cloud your mind entirely.

“Go on, puppy. Speak.”

“Wanna suck you off,” you whisper. “Wanna—oh my God. Lawrence please—”

“Do as you please, puppy,” he whispers. “I’m not gonna tell you no.”

You lean in, smelling him through his pants before you undo the zipper, button, and pull them and his boxers down, taking his half hard cock into your mouth within seconds.

“Good—holy fuck,” Lawrence moans. “Your mouth is amazing.”

You hum in response, tongue finding the underside of his length and setting a pace that clearly drives Lawrence a little insane. When a hand falls to your hair and he sets a pace of his own, you let him, just enjoying the feeling of his cock in your mouth.

He finishes in your mouth a few minutes later, and you swallow his cum without thinking. It makes him laugh even as he apologises for coming so suddenly, wiping what of it had dribbled to your chin after he’s helped you stand.

He presses his thumb against your bottom lip and you take it into your mouth, getting the cum off of it and grinning slightly when he thanks you for the deed.

He sits down on the long end of the couch, having pulled his boxers and his pants back up.

His gaze meets yours, and he smirks. “C’mere, puppy. Sit on my lap.”

You do as he tells you, sitting on his lap so that your thighs sit on either side of his. His hands find your hips pretty quickly, and all you want to do is kiss him, but you refrain.

“Did Aurelie offer to help, or did you ask?” Lawrence asks.

“I called,” you laugh a bit. “Defeating the hyper independence one phone call at time, I guess. Plus, she wasn’t working and told me to call her if I needed anything. My mind has been pretty fuzzy since last night, when I tried to think of everything I’d need to buy, and I called her to avoid having a breakdown. Without her helping me figure stuff out and then going with me to grab it I would’ve cried a lot more today, to say the least of it.”

“Good,” Lawrence says. “And you called me because you were alone, horny, and needing company?”

You nod. “I know our first—encounter—was the other day, but I just—”

Lawrence nods like he understands, and part of you believes that he does. “Can I kiss you, puppy?”

“Please, Lawrence.”

And then his lips are on yours, and he’s letting you press his back against the couch as your hands cup his face and sit at the bottom end of his neck, and it’s so, so easy to get lost in it.

Lawrences tongue darts out to your bottom lip while one of his hands moves from your hip to your clit, resulting in the sound of a hushed gasp befalling your lips. Lawrence uses it to his advantage, tongue finding its way into your mouth while he rubs excruciatingly slow circles around your clit.

“Lawrence,” you moan, desperately clenching around nothing in order to avoid grinding down onto him. “Oh, Lawrence. Please.”

“Not yet, puppy,” he whispers, pulling away from your lips just enough to talk. “You got a bit mouthy earlier, yeah?”

You bite your lip, nodding slightly.

“Well, I believe I made a point about there being ways to punish you that don’t involve pain?”

“Mm,” you hum. “You’re not going to be needed at work until nine tomorrow, which means—”

“Realistically, I don’t have a need to be home until around one, which means I have you until at least midnight, which is, what? Six and a half hours out?”

“Lawrence—” you whimper. “Please, sir. Please don’t make me wait that long.”

“Aw, you think using an honorific is gonna make me take mercy? Puppy, I love it when you address me as such, but you did this to yourself, yeah? You can’t tell me what to do, sweetness. I’m the one who does the ordering. Be a good puppy for the next thirty minutes and I promise, the punishment stops and the reward begins, okay?”

You clench around air again, nod and let him go back to kissing you.

He kisses you until your head is spinning, and when he pulls away, you find that it’s only been a few minutes. Your head rests on his shoulder as you catch your breath, both of his hands returning to your hips.

“Take my cock out of my boxers for me, yeah?”

“Had you kept the pants and boxers off, it would’ve been easier,” you sass before you can stop yourself.

Lawrences response is a nod, a kiss to the side of your head. “Do as I say, puppy,” he says. “Good puppies get treats, and if you don’t do as I say, you’ll just be punished until midnight, and when I leave, you’ll have gotten a free dinner but sexually? You’ll be dissatisfied for at least another few days.”

“Sorry, Lawrence.” You lift yourself off him and pull his pants and boxers down, waiting for him to do the last of the work before you sit on his lap again, hovering just over his length.

“It’s okay, puppy,” he whispers, kissing your cheekbone. “You’re allowed to stop hovering.”

“If I don’t, then you’ll—I’ll—do you want us to use condoms?”

“I got a vasectomy in October, and Plan B pills are a thing,” he says. “You said you were clear for STIs, so I’m not worried. Go on, Y/N, but only if you’re comfortable.”

You slide yourself onto him, letting yourself be split open by his length, watching the way that he reacts to it.

The way that Lawrence reacts has to be one of the most attractive things you’ve ever seen—he rests his arms on the back of the couch, and as soon as you’ve taken the tip, his head tilts back.

When you’re close to bottoming out, a long, depraved, drawn out “fuck,” falls from his gorgeous lips.

When you do bottom out, you let yourself moan, let your head fall onto Lawrences shoulder.

“Gotta stay still, puppy,” Lawrence says. “No moving, yeah?”

You whimper, biting down onto Lawrences shoulder in order to keep yourself from doing so.

“I know, Y/N. Twenty minutes until six, mm?” He laughs, one hand slipping beneath the sweater you wear. “You can’t react, either. No clenching, no moving, nothing. Biting, moaning, and whimpering are allowed, though. You’re cute when you get needy, so it seems.”

His hand finds your lower stomach and he presses down, and you have to fight every single reactive urge to do as you’ve been told. Instead, you moan lewdly, the pressure of your bite against his clothed shoulder increasing.

“Good puppy,” he praises, his voice a whisper. “Oh, you really are a good listener. You like how this feels?”

“Lawrence,” you moan desperately. “’M sorry about the bite—I’m scared I might’ve bruised.”

You kiss the area of his shoulder you’d bitten while he laughs.

“You’re just doing as I told you, yeah? The pain wasn’t bad compared to the other stuff I’ve been through.”

At that, you remember his foot, or lack thereof, and just how long he's probably been wearing his prosthesis, which just has to hurt by that point. But no, of course you'd completely forgotten about potential discomfort when horny and wanting, though it was something you had taken account for when you'd talked in not-sexually-driven situations.

“Shit!” You curse. “I’m so sorry—I just—”

“I try not to make a huge deal of it,” he says. “It’s really no concern.”

When he finds that you still look a little unsure, he laughs and presses a kiss to your lips. “It’s all right, puppy. I promise, I'm fine. Nothing hurts, aches, or itches as far as my footless leg is concerned, yeah? Just relax for me, mm?”

You nod, still feeling guilty. Lawrence presses a kiss to your forehead and the next twenty minutes are spent with him letting you thrust once or twice every few minutes, his fingers rubbing slow circles around your clit.

When six hits, Lawrence beams. “You’re allowed to move,” he says. “But don’t come yet, yeah? Wanna spread you out on this couch.”

You do as he says, setting a pace that’s just quick enough to make you teeter along the edge within minutes but not enough to come. When Lawrence has had enough, he tells you as much, telling you to get off of him and lie on your back.

You do as he tells you, watching him take off his shirt and tie like it’s a strip show. When finally his lips are on you again, he’s kissing your thighs and making his way to where you need him most.

Once there, he presses a kiss against your clit, then runs his tongue gently through your folds.

“You’re so wet,” he laughs. “You really do get turned on easily, mm?”

Your response comes as a half-laugh, half whimper, and it just eggs Lawrence on. His tongue attaches itself to your clit and you clench around pretty much nothing, one hand finding your nipple beneath the sweater while the other grips the back of the couch like it’s a lifeline.

“Lawrence,” you moan as his lips and tongue move down to your hole. You pinch your nipple between your fingers and Lawence laughs at how desperate you sound for him.

His nose presses against your clit and you grind against him, moaning lewdly. “You're using your fucking nose—ohmygod,” you moan, having a split second wherein you don’t care about how loud you’re being. “Oh, fuck, Lawrence—”

Although he’d only gotten divorced four, maybe five months beforehand, it’s clear that he knows what he’s doing—whether it’s muscle memory from the early days of his marriage or something he’d picked up in the time since his divorce, you’re glad for it.

“Lawrence—ohmyfuckinggod—” you grind against his face and he laughs, nodding slightly.

“Use me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to your clit. “Use my mouth, yeah? Don’t worry about anything, just focus on yourself.”

You do as he says, letting yourself set a pace while Lawrrences hands move up to your stomach.

“Fuck, Lawrence,” you moan, inches away from releasing over his face. “Lawrence—I—”

“Go ahead,” he presses his tongue flat against your clit as you grind against him and that’s basically the final straw—when he buries his face in your cunt again, you cum over his face with your thighs pressing against the sides of it, holding him in place slightly.

He stays with you through the aftershocks and comes up to kiss you once all is said and done, and once again—depraved but so fucking hot because you can taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss is intense but also everything you need to relax, and when Lawrence pulls away, you tell him there are wash cloths in the bathroom and that he’s welcome to take a shower if he sees fit, but you’re exhausted and sprawled out over the couch is the way you aim to stay.

He leaves your side and is back twenty minutes later with a damp washcloth, which he runs over your exposed cunt and then himself. He helps you get to standing and leads you to the primary suite, grabbing you a pair of sweatpants and a baggy sweater after locating them easily in your wardrobe. You wobble back to the living room while Lawrence gets dressed again, plopping into the rocking chair you’ve placed in the corner of the room.

Lawrence checks the couch for stains and both of you are surprised to find that there are none, though Lawrence cleans the area anyway before he calls and orders delivery to your apartment.

“I know we said no staying post-coitus,” you murmur. “But—you have until midnight, yeah? Stay for a while.”

Lawrence nods. “I’ll at least stay for a while after dinner,” he says. You stand, sit in the love seat. Lawrence sits down next to you, wraps an arm around your shoulders. “I do want to get to know you more—I feel like we don’t know each other as well as we should.”

You smirk. “I’m entitled to my secrets, and you are to yours.”

“Yes, that is a fair point, but part of me wants to know everything about you that’s not a secret, Y/N.”

“Don’t forget one of the first rules we made—you’re not allowed to fall in love with me.”

“I wouldn’t hate loving you in the platonic sense of the word,” Lawrence says. “That’s what I aim to do.”

You hum, press a kiss to his shoulder. “’Mkay,” you nod. “Loving me platonically is allowed, says the judge of whatever the fuck this is going to turn into.”

Lawrence laughs.

For a split second, you feel the urge to freeze the moment in time, to treasure the simple domesticity of it.

You want to stay in that pocket of time forever, Lawrences arm wrapped around your shoulders, your cheek pressed just above his chest, so blissful that nothing else in the world matters to you or him, so well hidden away from the rest of the world that nothing can find you or be bothered with looking.

You brush it off quickly—the first rule of the agreement had been that you weren’t allowed to fall in love with each other. You were not going to start falling for a man you could not have, one that would not want you in turn.

#lawrence gordon #lawrence gordon x reader #saw (2004)#saw posting #sawposting

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starfall-spirit · 10 months

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Again, thank you @azrielshadowssing for hosting the Summer ACOTAR Writing Circle. Just like the starting writer, @secret-third-thing, this is my first Elriel fic as well. Just as I said in my first contribution, my cocreators are of course welcome to save and reuse my banner if they'd like to. Anywhoseville, have fun reading my first Elriel piece!

CW: None.

Part I // Part 3 // Full Ao3

Elain learned a few things very early in her stay, first and foremost that despite having a few spare bedrooms, Feyre and Rhys were far too accustomed to living with only one another the past few months. She never felt the need to knock on a swinging kitchen door before, but she had no desire to catch her younger sister with her hand down her boyfriend’s pants that early in the morning ever again.

Elain was still a little red-faced when Feyre knocked on her bedroom door, coffee, eggs, and bacon in hand. The best apology her sister could muster while trying to contain her amusement. Yes, Feyre was a very different woman since deciding to run off to art school at nineteen.

Rhys somehow managed to balance guilt and smugness, apologizing to Elain before wrapping himself around her sister from behind and whispering something that had Feyre bright eyed and squirming against him.

Despite the scandalous morning, Elain was happy for her little sister. She could still remember the day Feyre called her out of the blue to tell Elain about how she just met the most beautiful man to ever walk the planet earth, bemoaning the fact their first meeting was the tragedy of Feyre spilling hot coffee all over his dress shirt when he was already late to a morning lecture. “And he was the professor!” Feyre had cried. His ‘preferred dry cleaner’s address' turned out to be a little dinner bistro he was staking out. And the rest is history, as they say.

That spontaneous conversation was the first time they had talked like sisters in a fair decade and Elain was thrilled to be bonding again, finding herself picking up the phone anywhere between two weeks or two days to catch up on whatever had been peeving or pleasing her sister. Nesta took a little longer to familiarize herself, despite making her way to town before Elain. But they all came to realize soon enough that their lives could be better, mending bridges. So here they were, Nesta dating Feyre’s unofficial big brother and Elain flying in to lick her wounds in the company of family and new friends.

Except after her introduction at the gallery the day before, Elain wasn’t feeling quite so down in the dumps. Unlike her sisters however, she wasn’t the type to dive in on a whim. But maybe the summer could change that. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. The child in the middle, mediator and princess of the family, good for soothing squabbles. What if she wanted some sort of Hot Girl Summer too?

That of course brought her mind back to yesterday’s introductions. One in particular, she supposed. She found her eyes rising from the gallery’s computer as a reserved chuckle met her ears. “When did you get so meticulous, Feyre?” Azriel was teasing her sister.

“I’m sorry, Az. I can’t paint outside with the rain clouds coming in so I want the pieces in place before I start painting so we only have to deal with the tarps before the showing.” A half-dozen buckets of paint as well as brushes and rollers of various sizes were already scattered on the tarp beneath the wood forms Feyre had ordered for the showing. “This should be fine, actually. Thanks for helping shift things around.”

“Of course. Anytime, you know that.”

Rhysand’s friends and family certainly seemed to take a liking to Feyre. Realizing she was bordering on eavesdropping rather than overhearing at this point, Elain returned her focus to the desktop, triple checking the spellings on the guest list to be certain the tags she needed to print for the event would be without error.

“Elain,” her sister called. “Thank you for putting in so much work yesterday and today. I appreciate it.” She opened her wallet and slid a card free. “You two should go out and do something. Lunch or some summer fun going on. There’s all sorts of stuff around this time of year. I’m sure Az can show you.” They both started to argue. “No. I know you’re a pair of people pleasers who don’t expect anything, but I want to pay you back somehow. Even if you go buy a couple of hot dogs and chat for an hour. We’ve got four days until the showing. There’s plenty of time for all of the technical stuff to get done. Go take a break.”

Elain narrowed her eyes, trying to determine if her sister was really just offering them a break on her dime or if she was at some game. She’d heard Nesta mutter a time or two about Feyre’s enjoyment in matchmaking when it came to her and Cassian. “Go. The other people helping with the painting will be here soon and you two will just be in the way anyways. So shoo. Go. Lunch. Now.”

“I’ll be in the way behind the reception desk?” Oh, this was most definitely a set up. And she hadn’t quite decided if she was ready to walk into it.

~~~~~

Azriel hadn’t been sure if Feyre had caught him sneaking glances towards the front desk between shuffling the wood forms around the room, but with the way she practically shoved them out the door the moment the sets were in place his uncertainty was quickly cleared up. It was a big fat, “Please be more obvious you’re into my sister. Here’s some money, now go woo her.”

Of all the times for his mask to slip, it had to be in front of the meddlesome matchmaker.

Elain was quiet. Almost as quiet as himself, though he wasn’t sure if she was shy or just feeling awkward about being shoved out of the gallery with her sister’s credit card. Azriel had been the one to take the card in the end. Though he didn’t know much about the middle Archeron yet, he’d seen enough between Feyre and Nesta to know there were enough scars on their past to make taking money from one another difficult.

As small a purchase as lunch may be, here Feyre was once again being that provider. Azriel wasn’t stupid enough to open the conversation with those suspicions. “So, are you settling for good?” he asked instead. “Here in New England?”

“For good, I’m not sure. But at the moment I don’t have much choice. Feyre and Nesta are the only family I have and my ex’s name was on my apartment lease back home.” Feyre had been in a mood when she heard about why Elain was breaking things off with her boyfriend. Az could understand wanting to stick by family while Elain got her feet under her. “It seems like a nice town, but…”

But she was the sister who wanted to take flight. “Feyre said you wanted to travel.”

“We weren’t in any position to see the world as children or teens. And then I invested in the store and never bothered with vacation time. I was a co-owner in a florist’s shop, but my partner knew what they were doing well enough to take on the load.”

“There’s a space open for rental in the square,” he found himself nearly blurting. “It just went on the market about a week ago, but I don’t think they’ve accepted any offers yet.”

Elain was silent at that, eyes rising to the overcast sky. He kicked himself as the tension returned. He didn’t want to guilt her into staying, but his only substantial argument was her sisters’ happiness that Elain was joining them here and a potential business investment. The honest truth, he wanted her to stay so he could get to know her. He’d heard enough about her since Feyre reconnected with her sisters just as she met Rhys. He had been intrigued then, and their meeting yesterday had only piqued his curiosity, clipped and formal as their conversation was.

He cleared his throat softly. “There’s a great hole-in-the-wall pizza place around the corner if that sounds better than hot dogs.”

“Pizza’s good. Great.” He nodded, taking the next turn and holding the pizzeria’s door to let her through first. “Thanks.”

With the food down in front of them, conversation was lulled back into small-talk more than anything personal, but he sensed enough intrigue about the town to justify taking the scenic route back to the gallery, swinging by that empty shop beside Emerie’s. Elain’s eyes lingered a second too long.

“I think… I think I might take some time for a summer trip soon. And then think some more about what happens next.” To stay or fly some more. Take control of her fate one way or another. “You wouldn’t happen to know who I could call to ask about that space, would you?”

Azriel smiled. “I might have a name.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @goddess-aelin // @acotar-fanns // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiyawhitethorn // @azrielslight

#elriel #elriel fanfic #acotarwritingcircle #acotar #part 2 #fanfiction #read on ao3

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dearmrsawyer · 11 months

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am decidedly not leaving bed today!! i feel like i've been run off my feet the last few weeks and i don't need to go anywhere or do anything today so i will not :) yesterday i hosted a fundraiser for the Cancer Council, an Australian org that does tonnes of things like fund research, offer support services to people with cancer, educate and train educators. Last year i hosted it with one of my colleagues but she did a lot of the heavy lifting. This year she's on maternity leave so i did it myself and it was v successful!! We raised over $500 :) So i am feeling v pleased and tired.

i have been thinking about my general state of being and that although i often feel like there is a LOT going on in my day to day i do think that so far this year i've been in a good place. last year was mostly about sitting in a ditch of despair sdfklkdl but the composition of my life this year has been such that i haven't been in that place. what a treat! also my house has not flooded 3 times in the last 6 months so that is certainly nice!

i've had a bit more regular contact with some of my close friends. every month i Zoom with Ellen, my friend from Norway. She's my OG online friend, we met in a Lost forum when i was like 14 LOL, we started doing regular Zooms during covid but have had a good run going lately. Although we did miss the last one because she's hecticly working on her thesis, but regardless it feels like we've been built such consistency and its so good to have that monthly check in. I've also started going out to dinner once a month with my IRL best friend, who i think i saw a grand total of 3 times in 2020-2022 lol, and THAT has been so nice. Human connection outside my household! Who would have thought!!

Also i have not been to so many live events within a 6 month period since like 2018?? All those postponed showed finally caught up with me lol. In Feb i saw Harry with my best friend and the Vamps on my own (i love a solo concert experience), in March I saw MCR with my best friend, in April I saw an Aussie comedy duo called Lano and Woodley with my family (they're like the root of mine and my brother's sense of humour) and in May i saw Kisschasy with an old highschool buddy that I still talk to a lot when i get my act together and reply to his whatsapp messages rip. So much to do!!!! I think of all the shows, my fav night this year was definitely with the Vamps, i just love them. They are so fun to share a room with, their show was so small and at a venue i love/feel comfortable at, and it was their 10 year greatest hits tour so they played all my old favs :') I love them. I do feel like i need a rest from 'events' for a bit now 😂 but it was so nice to have things on the horizon and to get dressed in clothes I haven't worn for 3 years and even to be overwhelmed by uncomfortably large events in the company of friends lol.

Oh I also finished preparing my garden! I haven't planted anything because timing-wise it just worked out that i didn't finish until a couple of weeks ago, and with winter around the corner i don't particular want to set up my garden right now. But it's all dug up and ready to go, so i've laid tarps over it and it will be ready when Spring comes :) I'll need to order some good soil and then pull out my seeds that I have from before we moved. I'm not sure they'll still be good? But we'll see what happens! I can just buy new ones if necessary. So i'm really excited that the second the season is right i can just GET GOING!! No more waiting around for the rain to stop so that i can pull out the forest of weeds, no more STUPID rose bush roots in the way, it will be go time babey.

I have been reading a lot this year, I don't think it is a coincidence that my mind has been more able to manage absorbing books now that i don't feel i am in a ditch of despair lol, my 2023 brain is like perhaps we CAN do more than passively absorb shows we've watched twenty times. i mean we are still doing that in spades for sure, but looking at words on a page for recreational purposes does not feel like too much work! our weekly afternoon tea's at work are currently book-focused too, each week someone picks a genre and we all talk about a book in that genre that we love. Me and one of my colleagues are compiling the list of books mentioned every week and sharing them on Teams as a record, its been soooo fun. The last 2 weeks were scifi and fantasy (aka what i care about) and I chose the long way to a small angry planet and The Princess Bride. Next week's topic of biography though so my run of luck has come to an end sjkdgjkdf but its been vvv fun to basically have a blook club every week! I'm hoping i get picked in the next couple of weeks so i can choose LGBT+ books a) bc it will be Pride month and b) bc i recently read that is how it always is and LOVED it so much and am v interested in what recs my colleagues will have in that genre, but there are a couple of other people that i reckon could choose that if they're picked first (which i am ay-okay with) so my backup genre is books that have adaptations (so i can talk about six of crows 😈)

anyway its chilly and i will be reading fic in bed with Sawyer for the remainder of today, what more could one want

#just taking a bit of stock of my year so far! have been feeling reflective this week #tp

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marixrose · 8 months

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Julian Devorak - Tolerable

Words: 1130

Song to listen to while reading: tolerate it by Taylor Swift

I had been working as an apprentice for Julian Devorak helping him find a cure for the Red Plague. I had been working with him for about three months now, and everyday I see a change in him.

I bring him coffee every morning because he hardly sleeps at night and he’s going to need something to keep him doing his best. At first he was grateful, always smiling when I handed him a cup. Now he just waved me off with his hand.

I make us dinner every night because we work so late stressing over this cure. He used to be happy eating what I made, but now I watch him not take a bite and throw it all away in front of me.

I just brushed it off saying he was just stressed. We both were. I didn’t push him away anytime he tried to do something generous for me, then again he never did anything for me.

The more I look back on our time together the more I realize everything was one sided. It was always me giving him coffee, making dinner, cleaning up after him, making sure he rests, giving him reassuring hugs.

It was only me putting effort to make sure he was doing alright and in the process I lost myself. I forgot to make sure I was doing alright. I wasn’t.

I slowly began to stop doing everything that had become a regular routine for me, and started to focus on myself. One thing that made me decide to stop trying to please Julian was that I had contracted the Plague.

I tried to tell him, “J-Julian,” I tried to say, holding back a cough. My vision was blurry, tears brimming at the edge of my eyes.

“God Y/n do you ever just leave me alone?” He shouted not looking up from his book.

I was taken aback by his actions, he never yelled at me before. Sure tolerating my acts of kindness is one thing but yelling at me was something else.

“Fine.” I managed to say with all the strength I could muster.

I went to my office and locked the door. I was sick, better to die alone than get everyone else sick.

I get to die not knowing the cure, all my efforts in vain.

I get to die knowing that I wasn’t important to anyone and no one thought to take care of me, it was always me taking care of them.

I grab paper and a pen and begin to write a letter for Asra, my best friend. Suddenly I'm hit with a sense of sadness knowing Ill never be able to see him again.

Dear Asra,

By the time you read this letter, I will already be dead. Thank you for always being my best friend. We’ve known each other for what, 8 years? 9? Seems like just yesterday we met.

You have given me the best life experiences, thank you for that. I’ll gladly bring those memories with me to the other side.

I’ll miss riding the jelly fish and traveling to the other realms. I’ll miss the beautiful view from the castle's library, much better than the dungeon where they hid us.

I wish I could have the pumpkin bread one last time. I wish I could see the shop and see how far you’ve come with it.

I won’t miss the smell of this place or the restless nights wondering that if you sleep you’ll miss the key to the cure.

Tell Faust that I love her and that I'll miss her. Same for you, my happiest memories were with you. If only we had more time together.

One thing I will regret most is spending most of my life trying to catch the attention of someone who never wanted it. I thought that maybe if I tried hard enough then maybe, just maybe, he would see me the same way I see him. But to him I will always be his apprentice that he can only tolerate.

My time with Julian wasn’t all in vain however, I will miss the nights where we were both stressed but we calmed each other down by starting conversation. I will miss those nights, the only time I didn’t feel like I took up too much space or time.

Thank you Asra, for everything.

Don’t miss me too much, Y/n.

I fold the paper, tears threatening to fall and ruin it. I focus my magic on the letter and try to find Asra’s aura. With a swift snap my letter disappears off to find Asra wherever they may be.

I cough violently into my hand, only to find a trail of blood after I pull back my hand. I know I don’t have much time.

I sit at my office desk thinking of everything I’m going to miss out on now that I’m dying. I let out a sob as I curly myself up into a ball. The pain is unbearable.

After a half hour, I stood up, almost falling over from how dizzy I was. I opened my door to find a bed to die in.

I opened it to find Julian about to knock on my door with a concerned look on his face, which quickly changed to worry once he saw my state.

“Y-y/n you're sick, but you didn’t- when did this- I could have-” He started to panic, wide eyed. It would have been nice to see him care for me like this without me on the verge of death. I guess it's true that people only care once you're dead; or in my case about to die.

“I did. I meant I tried but you got angry and yelled at me to leave, so I did.” I say softly, not having enough energy to be angry.

His face flashed with guilt as he began to frantically speak, “Y/n I never meant to yell, I was just-”

“Stressed. I know. We both are, but I never yelled at you.” I cut him off, I’d be damned if I’m going to spend my last moments arguing with the man I love. Loved.

Heartbroken over a love that never even existed.

He looks hurt by what I said but doesn’t push it. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too.” I whisper, starting to feel the world fade away.

I smile slightly at Julian before whispering my last words, “Thank you for tolerating me.”

-Time Skip-

“I’m sorry, Y/n, if only I was there for you like you were for me.” Julian said sadly as he watched my body get dragged into a boat to go to the Lazaret.

Words, how little they mean, when you’re a little too late.

#julian devorak #julian arcana #the arcana #the arcana apprentice #julian x mc #julian x apprentice #julian x reader #Spotify

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slunch · 11 months

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The beach was crowded when I went yesterday. I don’t think anybody saw me.

I didn’t do much there, though. I just walked up and down until I got tired. I was mostly looking at my phone. My friends were getting into an argument about the different kinds of cereal and which ones were better. There’s a small brand that I like, but they only like the big ones.

On the train, a homeless man went down the aisle asking for money. Nobody saw him either. I was reading about a new game that was coming out next year, and my friends were telling me it looked really good. I didn’t think so myself but tried to understand why they thought so, and I think I succeeded, which I felt pretty good about. I like to think I’ve gotten better at empathy.

When I got back to my apartment, I wasn’t sure what to do with the rest of my evening. I didn’t want to think about work tomorrow, so I watered the plants according to the schedule and stared at my cat, who glared back at me. She ran away when I tried to pet her, but I think by this time next year she’ll be better around me.

I debated it for a while, but eventually downloaded a new dating app while I waited for my dinner to warm up. I was surprised that I got a few likes from some attractive women, but then again I have been taking better care of myself lately. I got an app that tracks my sleep patterns and rings my morning alarm at the optimal time to not disrupt my sleep cycles, and I recently put a little light on my water bottle that will flash and remind me to drink from it while I work.

None of the women on the dating app seemed very interesting. I chatted with them a little bit, but they either barely said anything or said a lot about nothing.

Then I read some of a textbook I’d downloaded onto my tablet. Higher education always intimidated me, and I liked the stability of my job, but I liked to also see what else is out there sometimes. I was currently in the middle of a linear algebra textbook. Tonight I was skimming the section on linear transformations - a way to translate something in one vector space to another vector space. I had forgotten what vector spaces were because it’s been a while since college, but, confident that I’d learned something new, I turned off the light and got into bed.

Before I slept, I looked through some more dating profiles but didn’t see any that interested me. After a while, people started to look the same. Maybe it was the new makeup trend some of my friends were talking about. I tried to find it in our chat archives, but it was too far back and the search wasn’t working. I told them good night and placed my phone under my pillow so it could listen to me breathe and decide when to wake me up.

The next day at work, my team got a new project. We talked about it over video call and then standard messaging for a while afterwards, because it seemed like we were pivoting to something new and there were a lot of little details to discuss. I didn’t mind, because I always like to broaden my skill set. The department’s priorities were shifting this quarter, which must be good.

My coworkers' teeth were all really white on camera when they were talking, which was really interesting because they've told me how much coffee they go through in a month. I use the same brand, and it’s pretty weak but tastes good. I'd have to ask them what whitening treatment they used, since I was a little self conscious about mine. I remembered in college when my friends were studying early AI, they said to count teeth and fingers because those were the hardest to generate accurately.

My manager's smile glinted on the screen.

I had some moments last month where I privately wondered if what we were working on really mattered, but my coworkers were really invested in this new project and I tried to mirror that energy. There might be some way to get promoted working on it, too. Sometimes it just seemed like we were working on things that nobody would use in the real world. But it takes all sorts. I looked at my phone case and wondered how many engineering hours went into it. Maybe we could linearly transform our work into something more concrete, take a feature we made and translate it into something that would write a book. Or at least just tell me what to say to my cat to make her finally like being around me.

I was a little distracted that afternoon because they were coming out with a new version of a laptop I had. I wasn’t sure when the news would drop so I kept checking my feed, but I had some good conversations with my friends about whether it’d be worth the upgrade. It turned out that most of them were planning to pre-order it, so I might do the same. I felt like I’d earned it.

I was having trouble focusing, so I checked out of work half an hour early. That’s one advantage of working remote, my teammates are all spread out between different time zones so nobody notices if I leave. My manager says next year we’re going to arrange a conference and meet each other in person.

After work, I played some video games with the guys. The in-game voice chat wasn’t functioning due to some server outage somewhere, so we just played in silence, which was kind of boring. Someone on the other team called me a bot and we got into a pretty heated argument in the match chat. It’s always the worst when they don’t listen to anything I say and keep tossing the same insults.

I left early and let them play the new DLC my friends all had (despite their protests), since I was still on the fence about buying it for myself. I was a little distracted during the game since a woman I’d connected with on the new dating app was messaging me a bit more. She was pretty and seemed interesting, even though she didn't actually say much. I didn’t mind talking about my job though. With some people, you have to carry the conversation for a while.

Around sunset, I decided to go on another walk. I passed the library, which reminded me again that I should apply for a library card and work on my backlog of books I’d been meaning to read. A bunch of my friends on Goodreads were really into this new series about a guy fighting to save an empire.

There was a restaurant I’d heard was good that had just opened a few blocks over, but I had the new subscription meal box coming tonight and wanted to have the first meal from that when it arrived.

A woman wearing headphones at a bus stop caught my eye, just for a moment as the last of the sun lit her hair gold. She was okay, but I had seen prettier women on the new app. I guess that's where all the attractive people are these days. She looked tired, plus her face was slightly asymmetrical. She had nice headphones though, I recognized them from the video calls with my coworkers. They were the old model of the noise-canceling ones they wore. I made a mental note to check out that model when I got back, since it was probably popular for a reason.

My cat hissed at me when I got back. I might have been petting her wrong. She doesn’t like being in the apartment all day, but it’s not like I can let her out. Plus she has me for companionship, since I get to work remotely. Not like she takes advantage of it. I asked my pet-owning friends how to approach her more, but they didn’t have much advice for body language that I couldn’t find with a web search. Maybe I would switch her food to the nicer brand.

I lay in bed trying to sleep, but had the eye twitches that came from staring at a screen too much. I checked out a new app that one of my friends had mentioned to see if that would relax me a little bit. It used AI to turn your face into a landscape.

I played around with it for a while, trying different angles, and they all produced different types of generated landscapes. The AI was really good, but there were just constant ads. It was okay though. I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring those.

#fiction #short fiction #mine #i remember writing this one winter weekend i just felt super depressed #touched it up a bit tonight and here we are

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thessalian · 5 months

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Thess vs Ancestral Views on Cabbage

Welp, it was all the usual mess, and the usual tricks from the rest of the team. Everything from leaving the long ones for "later" (read, until I did them during overtime, assuming I got to those) to taking a whole bunch of dictation, dawdling through the short simple ones, and dumping the slightly longer and more complicated ones back into the queue towards the end of the day. So by time everyone was done working (except me, obviously), there were 405 bits of typing in the queue. I'd done just over 100. (New Girl had done 48, over a longer period of time, by the way.) There were still over 80 from yesterday still in the queue. A good dozen of these were longer ones. Two of those topped out at fifteen minutes.

I cleared all of the really short ones and most of the mid-length ones. But when it hit 10:30pm and I'd been at the overtime for three hours, I decided enough was enough. I'd cleared 75 bits of dictation out of the 80+. Scruffman said "anything I can do to help". Anyone else can bite me.

Oh, and if my maths seems off, there was a bit of an incident with dinner. See, yesterday I took the ground pork out of the freezer with a view to making cabbage rolls, and so it had to be eaten today. So despite the pain, aggravation, stress, etc, I tried to make cabbage rolls. And found out the following:

I don't have a large enough pot to blanch a cabbage

I don't have the manual dexterity to manage pulling cabbage leaves without tearing them in my current state (that or I fucked up coring it or didn't leave it in long enough, whichever)

I cannot cut the vein out of a cabbage leaf without fucking it up in my current state

I do not have a large enough pot to actually cook cabbage rolls to the first recipe I found online (there may be other methods; I have no idea)

So there I was, an hour after I'd started, with a whole lot of ruined cabbage leaves, a kilo of ground pork that I absolutely had to at least cook today, a litre of chicken stock I had no idea what to do with, the feeling that my Polish ancestors are very disappointed in me, a shitload of overtime waiting for me to get around to it, and the knowledge that this was going to mean that said overtime wasn't going to end until very late. Also hungry.

And then I thought ... "Fuck this. Yeah, I have a good chunk of Polish in my ancestry ... but I've got a fair bit more Irish and can therefore get a lot of mileage out of some pork and cabbage".

Chopped the cabbage leaves, dumped basically everything into my big skillet, and simmered that for awhile also boiling potatoes. After a few minutes, drained most of the juice out of the pork/cabbage mixture, back on the heat while the potatoes were finishing. I could have stood to do the potatoes longer, honestly, but it was getting late. So I ended up with this pork / onion / cabbage hash, which I had over potatoes. Turned out okay, though I'm going to want to spice the leftovers up more, and make more potatoes.

If all else fails, throw it in a skillet and pray.

So now I'm going to heat up the tuna broccoli pasta from yesterday (mostly so I have a decent-sized container to store my pork cabbage hash in, since my parentals still have my other big one from when I gave David some of my cheesecake - I should ask for that back), then have a bath and hope I feel better soon. Like, before tomorrow might be nice. It's more of the same tomorrow, except more potential for leftovers. ...I remember I did mean to have the leftover tuna broccoli pasta for lunch, but I never got a long enough break for that so I stuck with my emergency calorie go-to of peanuts and fruit (a pear).

If I'm still hungry after tuna broccoli pasta leftovers, I'm making myself a mug cake. Damnit, I deserve a mug cake.

#Thess has a day job #Thess cooks

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whentherewerebicycles · 8 months

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goooood afternoon. I spent 7:30-12:30 drafting this program proposal for my boss, which was a ton of work but also means I can take most of Friday off for the wedding without using vacation time whoohoo. I had another frustrating meeting with her last week and am still steaming about it a little… I am going to refrain from delving into work drama in my public diary but hoo boy life is just offering me so many illuminating examples of Different Management Styles this year lol. I can feel my blood pressure spiking just thinking about it so I am going to SET THAT ASIDE and try to switch now into relaxing/recharging mode. this week is going to be my personal hell (3 days of high energy interactive conference programming from 8am-5pm with an hourlong commute in rush hour traffic on both ends) but I am going to try my best to approach it with calm resignation rather than active full-body dread. hoooo boy. relax recharge recuperate jes do not think about what lies ahead!!!!

mmkay I have ~6 hours before possible goodbye dinner with bec tonight. I think I am going to eat leftovers for lunch, read fic in bed for a bit, and then haul myself up around 2pm to do a long walk with the dogs. these poor critters have been so underwalked the past two weeks with so many guests in and out!! mm maybe we will drive to the first trail then walk through the neighborhood to connect with the larger trail system. I’d like to try to walk for an hour as I am also very underwalked lately lol. also my body kinda feels like crap after eating badly and drinking too much yesterday… I really don’t want to drink a ton at the wedding this weekend but am not very good at moderating my alcohol intake in social settings esp with grad school pals. bleh we’ll see. maybe reading a lot about the impact of alcohol on fertility before will help me resist the sense of social pressure lol.

ok ok. lunch! reading! long walk! lie around some more or maybe go grab soil and repot these plants! shower by 4:30/5ish for possible dinner plans! try not to fall into a despair about the long & trying week ahead!

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whatdoesshedotothem · 1 year

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Monday 9 December 1833

1 ¼ pm

11 ¼

terrible night - tremendous window and rain could not sleep for the noise of these and the water dashing against my head and the vessel striking every now and then against the wooden breakwater - the wind still high and rain continued till just before I got up - so late, had no breakfast - washed a little the first time save dipping my hands yesterday - a turn or 2 on deck and then dinner from 2 20 to 3 20 - R.N. lieutenants and midshipmen know nothing about managing vessels - the master always manages a man of war (i.e. works the ship) - the naval officers are only for frightening - all the steamers lost, were commanded by R.N lieutenants or midshipman except the Erin (commanded by an East India company’s officer) which founded in the Bristol channel - our captain (Corbin) was on board of her the night before she sailed from the Thames - an E. Indian of 1400 tons had sometime before run against her and struck off 10ft. of her stern which had been temporary repaired for her to go to another voyage before being laid up for thorough repair - probably this temporary work had given away – 510 miles English from Hamburg to London – 64 miles from H- to Cuxhaven – 30 miles from C- to the sea – 600 miles from Harwich (government sailing packets with the mails every Saturday) to Gothenburg – voyage ordinary of 4 or 5 days – longest known in 3 weeks – worst weather often in the spring in April – 20 hours by steam from Gothenburg to Copenhagen – speaking of my liking to go to Iceland, the captain said the Copenhagen vessels were a long time in going – did not care how – best hire an English fishing smack, fishing for cod between there and Newfoundland in winter – accustomed to those seas – but having little to do in May June and July (there no night in Iceland) and he knew of a very nice one, the Sarah Mary, 60 or 70 tons, of Deptford, for £80 or £90 per month crew about 7 men – I should be as safe in [?] as in my own house – should besides have to provisions to find for myself and servants and perhaps £10 or £12 to lay out in making the cabin comfortable – it might hold 4 or 5 ladies – but I should find myself and servants enough – In this way, for £300, in 3 months might [visit] the Orkneys, Zetland islands, Faroe ditto and sail round Iceland – the smack would come round for me to Hull, and I must allow her for time back to England if I was left anywhere else – Captain John P. Corbin always to be found at the general steam packet office 69 Lombard street London and would be glad to arrange for me about the smack or do anything for me he could – he knows a gentleman Mr. Seebright [Sebright] (son of Sir John Seebright [Sebright]) and now in Sweden whom he has also advised to hire a smack for Iceland instead of going in another way – only 2 steamers since they began to run on this station have put into the Texel because no coals there - we (the Columbine) can carry 75 tons of coal exclusive of cargo - took in 6 tons yesterday - in fine weather burn a ton an hour - in bad weather (because of resistance so great the engines cannot make so many revolutions) ¼ ton an hour (25 cwt. = 1 chaldron) - the Columbine draws 10 ft water - cost £22000 building - about 5pm the Harlequin (Captain Corbin’s elder brother commanded by) came into the roads from London and threw up a blue light to announce her arrival it being almost dark - the steward says the voyage from London here is generally better than from here to London because westerly winds prevail 9 months out of the 12 - walking on deck from 3 ½ to 6 - the deck wet and my shoes wet thro’ - looking at maps and reading a little - tea from 6 ¾ to 7 ¾ for our American gentleman passenger and I talked for the 1st time and the captain seemed more communicative – American money is dollars (=4/. English) and cents i.e. a dollar/100 – our Captain says our P. office must gain a great deal by this last arrangements (since last August) that the Rotterdam and Hamburg mails are conveyed by the steam company’s boats for £13000 a year for letters which used to be 10d. are now 1/8., and the P.O. saves the overland from London to Harwich, the packets at £1000 a year each from Harwich to [Helvoetshirs] and the overland from there to Rotterdam, and the packets from there to here (Cuxhaven) and the overland from here to Hamburg – tho’ now thro’ the interest of the corporation of Harwich there are 6 sinecurists (all Harwich men?) on board there steamers in the persons of 6 mail-guards at £100 a year each who have nothing in the world to do but take care of the mail-bags – nothing to do with the captains nor the captains with them – Before this arrangement the captains were allowed to bring letters, as ship-letters, at 2d. each (much paid then better than they are paid now) and were capable of taking care of these in an open and of perhaps ½ a million of property entrusted to them (for the mails often went without a single letter) but now that the government seal is put on the bags, there must be a man a guard on purpose to take charge of them – on board the Kings’ packets (from Dover etc.) there is no guard – our captains’ salary is £160 a year and he finds his own provisions – the captains of the government packets have £500 a year – till ten years ago, the Falmouth packets were contracted for from the mercantile interest who built vessels in purpose conveyed the mails for 1/3 of the present expense and there never was an instance of a packet being lost – now that the government has taken this in hand and made it a naval establishment, 4 vessels (16 gun brigs – long vessels for speed, that have gone straight down and foremost) and all hands have been lost – our American has been in all the W. India islands except Jamaica, St. Croix (Santa Cruz, he calls it) the finest – St. Thomas’s likewise belonging to Denmark a free port – passage to America 30 guineas and thence to India £100 – Captain Corbin says we shall get from London to India for £100 after next April when the trade is thrown open – and says one may go in a merchant man from London to Cadiz provisions and everything found for £20 (packet passage from Falmouth £40)

say once a fortnight every voyage of the Columbine to Hamburg and back costs about £300.

crew = 21 at £50 a week wages exclusive of the captains’ £160 per annum

carpenter has 28/. a week and men 21/. a week – find themselves which costs them 5/. a week Don Pedro paid the company £50 a day for the use of each steamer

from 8 to 9 ¼ wrote all the above of today - fair this afternoon and wind abated a good deal this evening - some hope of better weather - F47 ½° now at 9 ¼ in my cool cabin - terribly rainy and stormy till about 1 pm today – our captain went on board the Harlequin – she left English land at five am yesterday – and was here at 5pm today i.e. in 35 hours – very heavy gale last night – saw the Sir Edward Bankes (that left Hamburg last Wednesday and that I was too late for) at 70 miles from England (from Lowestoff) yesterday – the chances are she will reach London – if she has not coal enough must return here or to Heligoland [Helgoland] where the steam co. has also a depot - wrote 13 or 14 lines more to M- (small and close dated tonight) saying we had broke from our moorings and lost our bowsprit on Saturday night (at midnight) etc - raining again now at 10pm till 11 reading the times newspaper of Friday the 6th inst. - do not hear it raining now, and there does not seem to be very much wind.

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millionairewifey · 2 years

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my sunset vent.

being a high value wife to an important and influential man is almost always as exhausting as it is glamorous. I adore my husband and I know he also adores me, let’s be honest I’m his world- everything he does is for me and our family, our future children and he makes a conscious effort to consider establishing a long term multigenerational legacy for them. He is a good and wonderful man, on a night like tonight when I’m watching the sun set into a deeper star filled night, I can’t help but hope for a time when work no longer separates us.

My week consists of maintaining the house, attending events, managing both of our households and their accounts, finding time for friends, family, and of course appearances and upkeep. My mother has done a wonderful job raising me for this position in life and often reminds me that while my husband may “be the head” I, as a wife, am the neck, the support and what keeps the head on track and in tact. Tonight we had a homemade pizza and games night planned, but alas after one bottle of sparkling Shiraz and three or four pours of the Woodford Reserve, my husband has fallen asleep. In fact, he fell asleep about 3 hours ago.

I’m a little disappointed but all I can think about is how tired he must be. The company is expanding and he has bigger goals for the last half of the year; this week alone he had six calls during breakfast and three during yesterday’s dinner. He viewed eight new properties and two job sites and also did quality checkins for last quarter’s sites. Should I really be that bummed because, I ordered a movie put on a cute outfit and set out for a night of tipsy UNO? Realistically, yes- if I’m upset I’m not gonna hide it, I won’t lie about it or mask my feelings. But as I’m now in year three as a wife, I find myself more understanding of what it might be like for him.

I see a lot of posts from other high maintenance women or girls seeking a luxury lifestyle with a wealthy partner. While we’re all finding our niche it’s important to remember this person is your partner, in most cases for life. The affirmations and beauty routines and gifts and material aspects are always fun...but the reality is, there is a man behind that wallet and sometimes that means sitting your beautiful ass in your deck chair on your high rise balcony, sipping a wonderful wine and listening to the distant sound of exhausted snores. Remember to be kind to him, give a back massage or let him fall asleep in your lap and use the time to watch an episode of your favourite show or read a chapter of your preferred book.

One of the lessons learned from my past relationships also with a multimillionaire was to be present. I was so spoiled and expected so much all the time that he eventually became cold toward me and gifts that were once his pleasure to give, later came with a tighter fist and harsh comments. “I’m not your ATM” being one of his that rang so loud, in a sense it changed me. I guess I’m all over the place but I feel like if you’re reading this you get what I’m saying. I’m just venting a little.

Bottom line, be kind to that man. If you’re really in the high value, hypergamy game- you’ll learn kindness, sweetness and gentleness is the most magnetic aura. You yourself are the gift, not another bill. I’m off to have a light snack and prep for bed with a rose-milk mask before it gets too late. I have a ladies brunch in the morning and an evening event to accompany him to. Good night.✨

#in my feels #high maintenance #spoiled wife #lessons learned #personal #millionairewifey

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i-love-fantasy-geography · 2 years

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I started to write a book yesterday. It’s named ‘Ugly Sobbing’.

Content warnings for violence, kidnapping, swearing, and trauma. These apply for the chapters ahead, too.

Chapter one

The sun shone through the blinds, and a piano tune rang through the air to wake up the short boy sleeping inside the comfortable bed. He sat up, and stretched slowly, enjoying the moment. He rolled out of bed, and stood up, already wearing the clothes he needed for his shift at the small coffee shoppe, his work. He enjoyed it. It was calming, and the free drinks were always nice, too.

He walked down the spiral staircase from the attic, and into the small kitchen, where he had prepared a snack for himself before taking a nap before his shift. He looked at the LED clock, and realized that he was late. Grabbing the toast, he brushed past his mother, who had left her office when she heard him walk down the stairs.

"Be careful, Liam!" She yelled after him, and he waved to her just before slamming the door shut and running down the driveway.

Springtime was always the best time of the year in Liam's opinion, with the flowering trees and the perfect weather. School was almost done, too. Liam ran across the street, which was painted yellow in protest of littering on sidewalks. He ran in front of a quaint bookstore, and waved to the owner. The owner, who was shelving books, waved back.

Once he arrived at the store, his manager walked up to him, annoyed that he was late. He apologized profusely, and went into the back room to grab his white apron. It didn't remain white for long, as his coworker spilled a drink she had just made on it. Liam just laughed, as that happened a lot, so there wasn't a point at being angry at her.

The sun was setting in the sky, creating a picturesque view from the shop, which was on the third story of a building. People started building up when the seas started to overflow, and when you looked down at the sidewalks which stood level with the blue water, it wasn't so bad after all. You just couldn't be clumsy.

Liam brought home dinner for him and his mother, and they sat down at their dinner table.

"Have you talked to your manager yet about having someone cover your shifts? You have a lot of stress on you, and you don't want to add anymore before university," Liam's mother said.

"I have not yet." Liam twirled the pasta around his fork, but didn't eat it.

"You need to ask her! It's important! Do you want me to walk down there and talk to her for you?"

"No, please don't, Mamma."

"Then talk to her yourself! You have a good future ahead of you, and you don't want to become stressed and ruin it!"

"I won't, I promise." Liam stood up, took him and his mother's plates over, and washed them off. Once he was done with that, he went upstairs and read until well after sunset.

He rose from his chair, set his book on his desk, and walked over to his wall of pictures. He smiled sadly at one. It was him and his childhood friend, Nicholas. He had disappeared years ago, and Liam greatly missed him. He looked at the photo of his mother when she was younger. She didn't look as tired back then as she did now, which Liam knew was mostly his fault.

He crawled into bed for the second time that day, and set an alarm for sunrise. He turned on his side, and fell asleep quickly.

Chapter two

A boy sat in his small cell. It was his because no-one had sat in it for years but him. He leaned forward to adjust his pants, but the chain around his neck choked him, causing him to gag and lean back. That was still relatively new in his ten years of being trapped. He had no idea how much time had passed since he had been thrown in the black van that drove for days until it stopped. He didn't remember anything except for pain.

"Wakey wakey! It's time to play!" A man walked into the cell, causing the boy to shrink into the corner, which was a futile attempt to stop the pain. The man chuckled, and took a step forward. That was all he needed to be able to grab the boys wrist and yank him up off the ground, causing the boy to strangle himself on the chain.

"Thought you would know a bit better than to resist by now. Of course, it's so much more fun if you do." The man threw his head back and laughed. It was a sickening laugh that made the boy's stomach churn. He almost puked, but he hadn't been fed anything in almost a week, so what would have thrown up?

"Well? Are you going to respond?" The man reached into his pocket and grabbed a key and a lighter. He unlocked the metal collar that hung around the boy's neck like fancy jewelry, and he ripped off the boy's canvas gag. The boy, hyperventilating, tried to take a step back, but to no avail. The man clicked the button, causing a small flame to hover above the small metal box. The boy struggled and screamed, having never gave up hope that someone would come to save him eventually. Unfortunately, he was in the middle of nowhere on a mountain range, so no-one would hear him.

Only one person would hear his tortured screams, and that was his kidnapper.

#my writing #writers on tumblr #writers #original content #original story #original character #cw #whumpblr #whump writing

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