#lady divorce lawyer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvyeni · 2 months ago

Text

HE'S THE BOSS ,, 钟辰乐

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ chenle wants you and no one is gonna stop him ... not even his wife ヾ

CEO!钟辰乐・ FEM!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎1.7k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

𓂃 🎞️content warning... infidelity, oral sex ( M ), unprotected sex, public, everyone cheating

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 another ceo chenle fic im sorry im addicted😔

“she's here.”

chenle could hear the disdain in your voice as it came through the phone. “let her in.” he responded, you hung up the phone — soon the door open, his wife walking into his office. “is that her?” he rolled his eyes. “she's young , what 23?”

“if you come here to start, you can leave.” the man spat; the woman taking a seat. “i told you to come so we can settle this like adults.” the door opened. “sir.” you knocked on the door even though you'd already opened it — you did that on purpose. “what is it?” he said, the woman in front of him folding her arms. “or must you interrupt me and my husbands conversation?”

you turn to chenle who just holds his hand up telling you to keep quiet; which pissed you off. “just reminding you we have a meeting in an hour.” chenle nodded. “thank you yn.” you nodded, turning to the lady with a fake smile. “i like your shoes.” you closed the door. “bitch.” you walked back to your seat.

“she's made herself comfortable here, much like she did at our home.” the woman started. “haewon , this marriage isn't going anywhere, we both know it.” he said. “no you ended it when you fucked that slut in our bed.” she scoffed, he sat up in his seat. “yeah i did , when you were away i fucked her.” he confessed. “and what were you doing?” he asked, she sat up straight nervously. “h-huh?”

stoically he reached into his desk pulling out the folder, throwing it across the desk. “fucking your long time boyfriend according to this report that's soon to be released.” he said, watching her open the folder. “seems like you've been at this longer than i have , with many many men.”

“che-chenle i…” the woman was shocked to see the paper. “so yeah, let's end this.” he said, pulling out the papers. “lets get a divorce.” he said , the woman eyes teary now. “yo-you can't leave me.” she sobbed out. “what am i supposed to do?” he folded his arms. “you have a nice selection of men don't you?” he chuckled in the face of the woman he once loved. “or are you asking what are you gonna do without all my money?” he slammed the pen on the paper sitting on the desk. “the papers are in there as well.”

“she's the reason? we've been together for 8 years and now you want to end it? all because of that young whore out there.” the woman blew up. “you think she's not gonna use you for your money and then leave you for the next ceo who looks her way?” she picked up the papers. “im not fucking signing these.” he watched her rip them up. “im gonna take everything you have and then expose you.” she screamed , the entire office now listening in; including you.

“don't embarrass yourself.” he said coolly, taking out another copy. “sign the papers , i'll give you a million dollars as a gift and we go on about our lives.” his eyes no longer on her, but on you — his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he watched you flirt with an intern. “sign them now.” he said, getting annoyed and the conversation getting repetitive. “or you get nothing, and those photos go up tomorrow.” he said , picking up the phone, dialing your desk , watching you turn around , the intern eyeing your ass which made him angrier. “yes sir.”

“get in here now,” he said , hanging up, snatching up the divorce papers as soon as his ex-wife put the pen down. “time to go.” the door opened , you walked in. “yes sir?” you knew he saw you flirting with the intern; and you heard the conversation so you knew he was pissed. “the money will be put into your account , you can keep the house and the car , the other finances such as alimony will be handled through my lawyers.” you sat down on the couch watching it unfold. “you're really giving this up?”

chenle was silent; she turned to you. “happy you broke up a happy home?” you scoffed. “seems like it was already broken.” you waved as she stomped out screaming for everyone to get out of the way. “i thought i told you not to say anything?” you scoffed. “half the office just heard your bitch wife call me everything but my name and you wanted me to be quiet?”

“what the fuck was that about?” he said. “flirting with that kid out there.” he came from out his desk. “cute isn't he?” you smirked. “little dumb but im not looking for smarts.” he took his jacket off , sitting down in his chair. “get over here now.” he said , you stood up; making your way over to him. “get on your knees.” you sunk down to your knees, your face meeting the tent in his pants. “did arguing with your wife make you hard?” that made him snap , his hands coming up to your hair , yanking your head up. “you really are a bitch sometimes you know that?”

he let your head go, your hands came up to his thighs , rubbing them slightly grazing his cock. “am i?” you said. “yeah, a fucking slut too.” he groaned. “the whole office is out there , they saw everything and yet you're still here on your knees ready to suck my dick.” you unbuckled his pants, he lifted his hips allowing you to pull them down — pooling at his ankles, your freshly painted nails coming to his waistband of his boxers pulling them down , letting his cock free , he hissed as the air hit his length. “so hard.” you smiled , grabbing the base of his cock, stroking him slowly.

“don't fucking tease me.” he cursed. “suck me off before i fuck your face.” he groaned as your mouth closed around his cock, working your way down , fully taking him into your mouth. “fuck yes , suck my dick.” your head bobbing up and down , spit covering his cock as you gagged around him. “fuck speed up.” he groaned, you moaned around his length , defying his command. “you don't want to listen slut.” he grabbed the back of your head. “fine by me.”

he pushed your head down, holding it there. “gonna use this slutty throat.” he bucked his hips up. “oh fuck!” he cursed , your throat tightening around his tip. “fucking slutty mouth, never know when to listen but you surely know how to choke on a cock.” he grunted. “fuck im gonna cum, gonna fill your mouth with my seed.”

you moaned around his length; hand coming up under your chin to squeeze his balls , he let out a loud moan before pushing your head all the way down, his cum filling your mouth , some of his seed dripping from the corners of your mouth. “fuck!” he pulled you off him , sitting back coughing trying to recover from his attack on your throat. “show me.”

you smiled , lolling your tongue out showing that you swallowed. “good slut , now get up , gonna fuck you.” he pulled you up , basically ripping your shirt open. “asshole.” he slapped your tits , making you moan. “shut up and bend over.” he basically swiped the things on to the floor, forcing you to bend over , pulling your bra down. “look at you.” he lifted your skirt. “so ready for me to fuck you.” he slapped your ass hard , you yelped. “shut the fuck up.” he pulled your panties down to your ankles. “so wet , sucking my dick made you this wet? you're making a mess on the floor.”

pushing your legs apart; grinding his cock along your ass. “fu-fucks sake chenle put it in already.” he pushed your head down on the desk , pushing his cock into your hole , both of you moaning. “ti-tight whore, pussy already sucking me in.” he groaned , pulling out , just to slam back into you. “sh-shit chen.” he pounded into you, your ass jiggled at the force; your nipples brushing against the desk. “fuck fuck fuck!” you screamed , not caring about the employees , his cock felt so good dragging along your walls.

the man grabbed your ass , fucking himself deeper inside you. “scream louder , let them know who's fucking you , you think that intern can fuck you like this?” he gritted. “treat you like the slut you are?” your head felt dizzy, he was using you and your coworkers outside could hear. “you're mine and no intern or ex wife can say otherwise.” he pulled you against him. “chen-chenle im gonna cum.” the plap plap plap sound filling the room as his pelvis slapped against your ass. “cum , cum for me.” he commanded , feeling orgasm approaching as well. “cum so i can fill you with my seed.”

you finally let go, legs shaking as you came; he held your body up, rutting into you as he came with a loud groan , he cum leaking from inside you. “shit.” he bit your shoulder. “mine.”

he let you lay out on the couch since you couldn't leave. “i can't believe you ripped my shirt it was expensive.” you pouted now covered by his jacket. “i know i bought it.” he said. “i’ll get you a new one.” he kissed your lips. “and what about your wife.” you picked at your nails. “you sure she won't go to the media?” he nodded. “unless she wants to be exposed to and have everything taken from her.” he said. “don't worry she won't bother you.”

“now you stay here and be good while I go to this meeting and basically bribe the employees to not let this get out , the things i do to satisfy you.” you rolled your eyes. “you called me in here.” you pouted. “being jealous.”

“be lucky there's no probable cause for me to fire that intern.” you gasped. “you wouldn't.” he lifted his eyebrow smugly. “you don't know what i would do for you baby.” he said. “take a couple days off and regroup , do some shopping.” you smiled. “isn't that against the rules sir.”

“i can do what i want… im the boss.”

©️LUVYENI

#kpop x reader #kpop smut #nct fanfic #nct x female reader #nct x reader #nct smut #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #nct dream x female reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream hard thoughts #nct dream hard hours #chenle x reader #chenle smut #zhong chenle x reader #zhong chenle smut #chenle hard hours #chenle fic

358 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 month ago

Note

May I please get riddles mom and azuls mom interacting. Some thing about riddles mom being this really strict and judge mental person interacting with someone who got with their divorce lawyer is just so enticing.

Consider this interaction running parallel with this one, in which Riddle consults Azul's stepfather for advice while Azul and his mom check out the cafeteria's food.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

There was something to be said about the allure of a strong woman.

Azul felt that sentiment true when he stood next to his mother. Wherever she strutted, the people would part for her, letting the savvy woman in a slick black gown peel and a golden spiral seashell necklace through. Her silvery hair was pinned up neatly and speared with a crown-shaped comb.

She meant business. Ate it, breathed it, radiated it--and every room she stepped into bended to her command.

“I think you’ll be pleased with Night Raven College’s selection, mother,” Azul commented, passing her a clean plate. He swept his other hand over the waiting buffet. “Menu items are on a rotation, but there is always a good variety to choose from. The specials change every day—I have it on good word that today’s recommendation is the mince meat pie. They’re prepared by several highly skilled ghost chefs, some of which were personally scouted by the headmaster from three-star restaurants!”

Mrs. Ashengrotto nodded approvingly. “This will make for excellent market research. I would like to sample as much as we feasibly can. A shame to be without my tentacles though.” She tested a hand, fingers curling into her palm. “It would making fetching the food so much more efficient.”

“There are two of us,” Azul said quickly. He glanced around, making sure that no one had overheard the talk of tentacles. “We can split up to cover more ground.”

“I will stay here. I’d like to receive the mince meat pie fresh—it would be the most accurate way to judge the integrity of its pastry shell.”

“Then I’ll begin with the dessert bar in the back and work my way back to reunite with you."

“It’s a plan.”

With that, Azul took off, vanishing in a swarm of students.

Mrs. Ashengrotto headed for the counter serving the daily special. The line moved quickly—but right in front of her, raised voices flares up. She cocked a brow and craned her head.

A woman in a crimson blazer and skirt, mouth painted blood red, hair gathered into a tight bun, was arguing with a ghost chef. She jabbed a gloved finger at the mince meat pie held out to her.

“You must carve this up into a smaller portion size—exactly 300 grams,” she demanded. “Surely you don’t expect a growing boy to finish an entire pie on his own. The sodium level would exceed the recommended daily intake.”

“As I’ve already told you, ma’am, it’s impossible for me to give you exactly 300 grams,” the ghost chef retorted, sounding slightly frazzled. “Can’t you take the whole pie and divvy it up at your table?”

“The kitchen scales are here,” she insisted, “so it is most prudent for the carving to occur here.”

“Please, ma’am! You’re holding up the line!!”

Mrs. Ashengrotto cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”

“Hmm?” The lady in red spun around, locking eyes with her.

“E-Eeep!!” The ghost chef shrunk back.

Here stood two powerful, poised women—like ice and fire—and he, trapped between them.

“If you would be so kind as to present me with a mince meat pie, a knife, and your scale, I believe I can rectify this situation,” Mrs. Ashengrotto suggested.

“But you’re a customer…” the ghost chef said faintly.

“A customer with plenty of experience in both the food and the business side of restauranteuring. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

The ghost chef gulped and shot off. He returned moments later with the things Mrs. Ashengrotto had asked for, sliding them toward her from across the counter.

The lady in red sent an unimpressed look her way. “… And who are you to be making such bold claims?”

“Oh, just another mother like yourself,” Mrs. Ashengrotto calmly replied, "so I understand the desire to see our children eating well."

She had placed her empty plate on the scale after zeroing it, clocking the weight as 60 grams. Then Mrs. Ashengrotto brought the knife down swiftly, so fast that her arm was a blur. The pie was cleaved cleanly. She placed half on her own plate. The whole cafeteria seemed to fall into a hush as she slid the remaining mince meat pie onto the scale.

[360.00 g]

“Here you are, then.” Mrs. Ashengrotto passed the pie to the lady in red. “Subtracting the weight of the plate itself, this meets your specifications.”

The other woman's eyes narrowed, but she accepted the offering without protest. "At least someone around here is competent," she sniffed. "Thank you."

Mrs. Ashengrotto provided her most professional smile. "Please enjoy your meal--and send your son my regards."

The lady in red nodded stiffly. The ghost chef held his breath until the she was out of sight--then he deflated like a balloon with its air let loose.

"Y-You're an afterlife saver, lady!" the ghost chef sobbed. "I was at my wit's end dealing with that hellish woman!"

“Don't mention it, dear," Mrs. Ashengrotto reassured him. "I’m used to dealing with difficult clientele at my own eatery. We're kindred spirits."

"Do you like pies?" The ghost chef eyed the cut of mince meat on her plate. "Hold on, I'll bring you one of every kind we have as thanks for that save! Apple, banana cream, coconut cream, chocolate pudding..."

"Well, if you're offering--but I couldn't possibly have the arms to carry that much pie back to my table."

"Not a problem, ma'am! I'll get some of my staff to do it for you." The ghost chef clapped his hands, summoning several other ghosts to his side. "Boys, let's serve this lady some pie!"

"Yessir! Pie, coming right up, sir!"

"Ahahah, that's much appreciated." Mrs. Ashengrotto tucked a hand under her chin and chuckled. Won't Azul be surprised when he comes back! There will be plenty of sweets for us to share.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Riddle Rosehearts #Azul Ashengrotto #NRC Family Day #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst scenarios

125 notes · View notes

burningvelvet · 1 year ago

Text

being a romantic era poet: a quick how-to guide

walk around in nature contemplating Things. start hiking, swimming, sailing, rowing, shooting, riding, etc. for inspiration

be obsessed with the french revolution and related enlightenment-era figures like rousseau, voltaire, mary wollstonecraft, and madame de staël. be more disappointed by napoleon bonaparte than you are by your own father.

speaking of fathers, your parents and most of your other relatives are all either dying or dead or emotionally abusive. if you have any siblings (full, half, step, or adopted) who DIDN'T die tragically already, then you may choose to be close to them. you also may end up being much TOO close to them. various circumstances may also ban you from seeing them.

be at least slightly touched by madness and/or some other severe illness(es) including but not limited to: consumption, horrors, syphilis, deformities, lameness, terrors, piles, boils, pox, allergies, coughing, sleep abnormalities, gonorrhea, etc. — for which you must take frequent bed rest and copious amounts of Laudanum (opium derivation)

consider foregoing meat and adopting a vegetable diet instead to purify the spirits. you may also abstain from alcohol for the same reasons. alternatively, you may attempt the veggie diet, end up rejecting it, and becoming a rampant alcoholic instead. in romanticism there is no healthy medium between abstinence and excess.

reject, or at least heavily criticize, christianity. refuse to get married in a church and consider becoming a fervent champion of atheism. alternatively, you may embrace catholicism, but only on an aesthetic basis. eastern religions and minority religions are also acceptable, only because they piss off the christians.

if you’re not a self-hating member of the aristocracy and instead have to work for a living, do something that allows you to benefit society, be creative, and/or contemplate life. viable options include, but are not limited to: apothecarist, doctor, teacher, preacher, lawyer, farmer, printmaker, publisher, editor. there is also the possibility of earning a few coins from your art. if you were cursed to be born a She, no worries. we believe in equality. you may choose from these occupations: wife, nanny, housekeeper, spinster, amanuensis (copy writer for a man), lady’s companion, divorced wife, singer/actress/escort, widow, regular escort, tutor, or housewife.

speaking of sexist institutions, try rejecting marriage entirely. Declare your eternal devotion to your lover by having sex with them on your mother’s grave instead.

if you do get married — elope, and only let it be for necessary financial reasons, or to try and save a teenage girl from her controlling family, or out of true love with someone you view as your intellectual equal, or because your life is so racked with scandals and debt that you can only clear your name by matrimony to a wealthy religious woman as your last resort before fleeing the country.

After marriage, quickly assert your belief in the powers of free love and bisexuality by taking extramarital lovers and suggesting your spouse follow suit. If they cannot keep up with your intellectual escapades then consider leaving them. Later on, propose a platonic friendship with them following the separation, or beg them for reconciliation.

If your marriage is happy, try moving in with another bohemian couple to shake things up. Alternatively, you may die before the wedding for dramatic effect.

If you beget children (whether in or out of marriage, makes no matter), do society a favor by choosing to raise them with your beliefs. Consider adopting orphan children, or even non-orphan children. If their parents are poor enough they probably won’t mind. Try kidnapp— I mean adopting — children off the side of the road if you can.

DIE but do it creatively. ideally young. ideas: prophecy your own death, lead an army into war and then die right before your first battle and on your deathbed curse everyone and demand to see a witch, write a will leaving money to your mistresses or some random young man you have an unrequited romantic obsession with, carry a copy of your dead friend's poetry and read it right before you drown so that your washed up corpse can only be identified by his book in your pocket, die while staring at your lover's shriveled up heart that you keep wrapped up in a copy of his own poetry and then be buried with it, die of the poet's illness (consumption) while your artist friend draws you and then be buried with your lover's writing, get mysteriously poisoned (by yourself) after a series of scandals and accidents and then have your family announce that you were killed by god, die from romanticizing poverty or receiving bad reviews from literary critics, die from walking or horseback riding in the cold and the rain while poeticizing, etc.

633 notes · View notes

miifu666 · 1 month ago

Text

Ive shown a bit of what Modern! Suklha would be like in Lego Monkie Kid AU :D. But i also wanna expand more on them!!

⋆˙⟡ — CW : Spoiler, Ooc characters, straying from the main plot :" im only on season 4

LMK! Suklha

An infamous Lawyer. Shook the internet from becoming a Symbol of protection and wisdom into your average money making lawyer.

Almost never interact with the cast even during LBD invasion, she was buried deep in paperworks of trials that she needed to do.

Only came up once or twice as a guidance and to tell the crew what to do incase a certain situation comes, might even give them a predictive situation that'll come to fruition

Barely anyone knows she's pursuing a divorce with Wukong, shes actively trying to chase him to sign the papers. He keeps stalling it.

Wukong never told anyone about her, including MK. Focusing more on spending his pension rather than the relationship he has. Which is the main reason she wanted a divorce, the relationship barely benefit her.

"This is your successor?" Suklha stared at the kid, circling around him like a predator. Her eyes nitpick every single scars and strand on his head, Suklha let out a small humm as she picks off a branch from his hair. "Atleast you picked a human.. they were always more eager to learn than us" her snakelike tail rattled near MK. "Isn't that right, little boy?"

"Aren't you a human?" Her voice echoed.

MK's smile drooped down, feeling his teeth chattering against eachother. This Blue toned woman is hardly giving him an easy time, unlike the TV shots and interviews he's seen. His once proud figure shrinks down, like a little boy fearing the wrath of his own mother. He knows this feeling before... the hopelessness he felt when fighting Lady Bone Demon. It was all too familiar.

"Okayyy! C'mon bud lets get you home" Wukong steps in. Putting a good amount of distance between MK and a confused Suklha. "Maybe youre not up to meeting a gal like her.."

Lmk! Suklha, who Wukong still has feelings for yet runs away from the guilt of neglecting her for far too long. He's older, wiser but he's still bad at confronting his own faults. Especially a recent one.

Remember the book that Suklha created to fuck around with? Yeah the book where it holds the knowledge to everything and anything in the universe, reading the first few sentences can break your sanity? Yeah wukong has it now. Its his now. Its probably the only thing Suklha wanted to keep from the divorce.

Wukong who always tries to talk her out of it ever since he had MK, hiding the paper before planning a meet with her. Despite knowing the words he needed to say, His arrogant attitude kept the apology still.

Suklha, who despite being his Talent lawyer. Tried to keep the relationship professional, for the sake of Wukong's image and her own. Despite joining the mortal realm and its trends, gossips is still the one thing she has an annoyance about.

"YOU!"

The clicking of heavy heels reverberated through the floor, just as the Blue toned Lady huffed out towards the Monkey king that appeared in the doorway.

"SETTLE THE DIVORCE PAPER RIGHT NOW!"

There's a quaint silence as her booming voice rumbled through the gaming room. Monkie kid stared in agape, the figure of his once singular mentor and predecessor being a lone wolf is shattered as the Lady infront of him continued speaking. Mei and the others watched in awe, realizing a dramatic moment is happening in front of their eyes.

"W-wait! Peaches i-!"

"I dont accept any delay, sign. It. Now"

MK looked at the panicked face of his mentor, seeing the once powerful sage looking so defeated was a new experience he'll never forget. Different from the many times he's seen, in amidst of battle Wukong still held hope in his eyes. Now.. its just despair and worry.

"Uh... whats going on?"

Monkey king who despite trying to fix his own relationship problem, is also spreading the words of how meeting with Suklha means "you're a target for the devil". He glares at MK everytime he talks about the news, seeing the familiar antennas and golden rimmed glasses.

Monkey king who turns into an old man who yells at children in his yard everytime he notices MK interest in meeting Suklha the supposed "secret love interest" who sends him mountains of "love" letters. Definitely not about the contract he ignored and divorce notices

He doesn't want anyone helping him in this problem, anyone who has an interest towards it is just showing him how incapable he is. His own pride is stopping him from asking for help.

Monkey king who rarely have time to train MK so he can focus on talking to Suklha, only to have his own student stepping in and tried his best to save the marriage. From sending flowers, free noodles, sharing Wukong's view and made a whole love declaration from Wukong to Suklha in the middle of her Trial.

"Lady Suklha!! Its a gift from the monkey kiing~!" MK knocked on the high tech door, using his legs to hold up the large bouquet he bought at the florist. He made sure the handwriting isn't similar to his, he even added a monkey king doodle at the end of the card.

"MK..." Suklha greeted him, the door opening to reveal a drained and sleep deprived lawyer. Holding the casefile on her other hand in a mess. Her eyes widened while she let out a gasp at the bouquet, the casefile finally meeting its end at the floor. The bouquet is huge! bigger than her!

"Seee, Monkey king kinda dumped this on me today. He said he was afraid of seeing you getting mad over him sooo!" MK grinned widely, moving the bouquet to his hips "here ya go!"

Suklha hesitantly accepted the Bouquet, a look of discomfort grazing her features. "Thank you... MK" "nonono it was monkey ki-!" "You think i dont know my own imbecilic husband's handwriting?" MK looked at the worn out Lady, her mouth smiled gently despite the harsh words coming out of it.

"Maybe if you want to give me something in place of Wukong, remember to use Peaches or Wifey. He uses that more than... ehhh.. caterpillar?" Suklha squinted her eyes, holding the card closer to make sure what she's reading. MK looked at her reaction, is it another failure? The hundredth time where she would still say no when he ask her to talk to wukong? He's been going back and forth between her house and flower fruit mountain just to get the two to an understanding!

Atleast the Monkey King said yes if Suklha di—

"Fine ill go talk to him tomorrow"

"HE SAID IF YOU- wait what did you say again?"

MK stared dumbfounded, his stupid reaction earned a tired chuckle from Suklha.

"Ill go talk to him, thank you for your efforts MK. You're a good kid." She tried to hold the bouquet in one hand, leaving the other to ruffle his hair "although not mine, you do act like a child whose parents are in a fight..."

"Hey!!"

After MK help again, Wukong and Suklha has a better time communicating with eachother. Heck, Wukong likes to stop by just to check up on her and ask her out to go somewhere. Spend a quality time, despite her busy schedule.

MK who feels proud of himself whenever he comes to Flower Fruit Mountain only to meet with a frantic Wukong thats trying to choose between his red flaming glasses or pink hawaiian shirt to pack on his trip with Suklha.

Even after fixing her failing marriage, Suklha kept her friendship with Macaque. Making sure to have a night out together just so they can sit in her garden and talk about whatever that comes in mind. Giving both a sense of relief for both of them, to finally relax after a hectic day. Having someone to talk to despite their own insecurities thats keeping them both alone walking through the path of hardships.

Lastlyy, she holds the world's most complete library. Almost the old-school version of the cloud, sometimes she even hold a slight resentment at how everyone overlook libraries nowadays but well. There's a secret bookshelf that has the portal to any timeline and anything you need, disguised as normal and boring books. Kept in a dusted shed that has more cobwebs. As long as you have Suklha's permission, the books will open itself to you. If not, even with the power of Sandy and Wukong. It'll keep itself shut.

Artwork ©️ Miifu666

Writing ©️ Miifu666

#🎨—galleria #📃—ref sheet #✍️—doodles #suklha #oc #original character #original work #sun wukong x oc #jttw oc #lmk sun wukong #lmk oc #lmk monkey king #lmk mk #lmk sun wukong x oc

110 notes · View notes

loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 2)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 1, Part 3

summary: Your new roommate has... interesting habits.

warnings: sexually suggestive, nothing explicit.

a/n: i think i've realised miggy in this fic is a combo of his movie and comic counterpart. Miguel O'Hara: part-time whore lmfaooo

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 4.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lady death, at the cradle of a babe.

You've decided: if Miguel's the Sun, then you're a black hole. Cold and dark where he was warm, to seemingly everyone else but you. Even then, the metaphor didn't carry, and O'Hara wasn't quite the shining centre of the universe you had first thought him to be.

In the dim gloom of a little lamp on your bedside table, you’re left squinting at a crisp white document. Blank; save for a thousand tabs open, and the blue links of a half-hearted bibliography. You’ve got the bare bones of an assignment; left too late, as usual. The rest lies at the tip of your tongue; nips at the ends of your fingers like the heat of cigarette butts, and as fleeting as wispy smoke in an ashtray. To get yourself through it, you’ve resorted to romanticising it all, pretending you're a wistful poet dipping the feathered end of a quill into ink. Writing something… revolutionary; as opposed to the mish-mash of articles and studies you’ve crammed within the last hour and a half. There’s a pounding at your skull: the dull beginnings of a migraine, most likely. You squeeze at your temples, eyes shut – and the thrum matches the thud at your thin walls. Rhythmic, obscene, and it creates a cruel staccato; shaking the flimsy plasterboard that separates your room from your roommate’s.

He’s fucking someone. Loud, like it can’t be heard by half the complex. It's the third girl he’s had over in as many weeks. Not that you were keeping count. For a supposed tutor, you hadn’t seen much studying - despite the bright eyed young women that seemed to be at your doorstep most days. Perhaps you're being dramatic, but you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the kind of pupils Miguel had had the privilege to “teach”.

You remember the first time the true weight of Jia’s words became clear: whilst banging on the front door after a draining day of lectures.

You’d forgotten your keys after rushing out the morning of, and arrived to a locked door in the afternoon. You had been starving, insides churning with the thought of takeout you’d saved the night before; a greasy bag nestled in the corner of your shelf in the fridge. So maybe you'd been antsy, irritable at a stretch; fist on the door like a divorce lawyer, hungry in more ways than one.

Wasn’t Miguel already home? He had to be, you can hear the low tones of his voice leaking from the gaps at the sides of the door. And.. rustling, the shift of fabric tousled and pillows hitting the floor. It’s then that you hear another voice, higher pitched; gentle and soft where his is baritone. If you’re not mistaken; and something at the pit of your stomach hopes you are, for some reason; he’s laughing, speaking in hushed tones, whilst she giggles at something he said. You bang at the door even harder, hoping the sharp rap-rap-rap interrupts him. It feels like you’ve had half of your college’s senior cohort in the city in and out of your apartment - or, at the very least, the pretty ones. For some reason, this is the straw that breaks the camel’s back; and your knuckles sting against the lacquered wood. You’ve half a mind to shout into the keyhole, to tell him to hurry the fuck up, or else–

Miguel opens, brow tight, and wiping something from his lips with the back of his hand. It’s suspicious; he looks carefully flushed, lips plump and cheeks slightly ruddy. You notice the way his head flops onto the lip of the open door; slightly out of breath like he’s done a dozen push ups. And with the way his biceps flex and tense under his open button up; paired with some slacks in a pitiful attempt to look less slutty; he might have. The image makes you purse your lips to stop inappropriate laughter: Miguel on the floor, brows kneaded in concentration as the woman in your apartment looks on, entranced. It feels more plausible than the reality; making out on your couch, whilst her hands travel to undo the button at his waistband.

What doesn’t help, is the look he gives you; like you’ve interrupted something important.

“Oh.” He says, clearly deflated. “It’s… you.”

You flash him a sarcastic smile and push past into the front room. You’ve seen her before: the girl on your couch. Sarah, a pretty thing in Miguel’s advanced Math class, you’d learned from the last few weeks. It’s not the first time she’d been over, but she doesn’t usually stay; rather, she’d drop something off at the door and twirl her hair whilst she waited. You’d answer, because of course he was never home at the right times, and she’d crane her head in for a glimpse of him. The first time; you were struck by the effortlessness of her beauty. And on your sofa, she seemed hardly fazed; the gentle curve of her stomach and thighs spilling onto the tattered cushions, donned in a patterned sundress. Her lips are pert, curved into a knowing smile as she giggles at the scene you and Miguel make at the door.

“Hey, Sarah.” You give her a small wave as you make your way into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. However, you don’t have the energy to dignify Miguel with a response – so you stay silent. He bristles.

“You don’t have a key, or something?” You’re digging through the shelves as he calls out to you, hands on his hips like you’re in the wrong. You can’t help but hiss under your breath. He’s got an attitude, when only one of you had been left outside the door; starved and exhausted. And the other: getting off on your sofa. Poor Miguel, left with a limp dick and full balls.

"Forgot." Your answer is curt, and you don't even bother to look up. You can hear him scoff, incredulous - as if the mere idea was so offensive. It makes anger bubble up at your gut, head still buried behind the fridge door.

"That's convenient." You can't hear the words that come out after, but you're sure it's not exactly glowing praise. You lob a hypothetical grenade over the lip of the fridge door: a middle finger, crisp and clear.

Takeout in hand, and a bag over your shoulder that feels like a concrete block; you drag yourself to your room, without giving Miguel so much as a second glance. When the door slams, you're hit with the full weight of Jia's words; a moment that seems so long ago. Miguel's probably picky about who he tutors for the same reason people swipe left and right on dating apps: he's an unrepentant whore.

The thought had seemed somewhat premature, at the time. You had had little to no evidence: a string of pretty women in your apartment did not a slut make, after all. It wasn't quite enough, just a knee-jerk reaction after a bad day. The most charitable interpretations tell you that by all means, your roommate is an upstanding guy. A model student; who left his undergrad with honours and a disgustingly high GPA, head of half a dozen clubs and societies, and currently getting his masters sponsored by a prestigious biotech company in the city. He’s a chronic overachiever, more or less. All things you've learnt from the people he’s tutored, small talk in between sessions (and they’ve all been nice enough). It seems a little more than convenient that the prettiest ones end up in your apartment - in his bed. And yet, you can’t get a straight answer from the man himself. Favours for a couple of friends, he says every time you complain.

With the noises you hear from the room over, you wonder how he treats the friends he really likes.

You think he’s doing it on purpose. That’s the only explanation you’re left with as you massage your temples in desperation. A steady pounding, that makes the shared wall shudder. Interspersed with graphic moans, the higher pitched panting of his partner; Yes Miguel and Just like that; seems to blend with his groans. Sleep pulls at your eyes, and you want to scream into the pillows. It’s muffled, but you can make out his voice beyond the wall; low, hushed tones that makes desire pool at the base of your stomach. And you’d rather die than admit it; but you zone out for a moment, a little lost in the haze of a daydream. God, his stamina. It feels like they’ve been going for hours, obscene grunts and groans spilling into your room. The wide span of his shoulders, the way light is cut at his jawline - and you wonder what he’d look like on top, or the sounds he’d make underneath.

Shaking your head, you try to convince yourself: it's the lack of sleep that makes you think of the way his hands would feel on your waist.

~~~

The honeymoon stage, if there ever was one, was well and truly over.

In the morning, you’re woken up by the thud of the front door. Laptop cracked open on the covers, you shift to wipe the drool crusted on the side of your mouth. The good news: you remember getting down a couple thousand words before fitful sleep. Not to a great standard, of course, but as your deadline approaches, you’re grateful for whatever you can scrape together. Stretching, your back creaks with the memory of last night: hunched over your laptop, barely able to concentrate. Still in pyjamas from last night, you pad into the front room, looking for water to satisfy your dry mouth.

The bad news: you’re met with Miguel on the sofa, splayed out on the cushions lazily. There’s a mug of something on a side table, which he’s clearly neglected; eyes closed, and an arm drawn upwards to expose the tan skin of his chest. He’s wearing nothing but loose plaid pants, hair a mess and frustratingly peaceful. For once, he’s not wearing the perpetual frown you’ve been subjected to for the past few weeks, and he looks five years younger as a result. You tilt your head to the side – like a mere 90 degrees would make him look any different – and you can’t believe this was the man who was terrorising you the night before. He looks… cute. Innocent, almost.

The sight makes you scoff. You snatch a glass from the cupboard with a clink-clink, and he stirs. You watch him stretch as you fill it; a mop of brown peeking over the back of the couch. He peers over, groggy and seemingly confused.

"....When did you get back?" His voice is gravelly, heavy with last night's sleep – or lack thereof. You ignore the feelings it stirs up; pleasant and comfortable and domestic.

"Good morning to you too, " You say it under your breath but he hears; catches it and holds it at his chest like a songbird. One hand over his heart, he smiles, wide; a lazy, sarcastic grin, but it still makes your face heat up. It's too damn early for this, you think. "I wasn't… for fuck's sake… I came back last night."

"Oh." He frowns, sweeping into the kitchen, and opening up the cupboard.

"I couldn't sleep." Miguel's not stupid, and you wait for him to take the hint. "There was… too much noise last night."

"So that's why you're up early." He clicks his tongue. "You don't have a lecture to be late for?"

"You don't have another girl to fuck and ignore?" Without missing a beat, you snap at him – too tired and annoyed to entertain it.

"Ouch." It's blaise, thrown over his shoulder without a second thought. He doesn't even look at you, head buried and eyes scanning the shelves – looking for his morning coffee, no doubt. He finds it, opening the packet and elbowing you in the process, and you give him a glare. Did he have to do that right next to you?

You catch the ghost of a smile on his face.

"...Miguel?" You say; quietly, because you can't quite find your next words.

"Hmm?" He hums, fiddling around with the machine; a ritual you've only caught glimpses of.

How do you tell your roommate you can hear him have obnoxious sex through thin walls? Well, probably by opening your mouth and saying it, but anything resembling your true feelings dies in your throat.

He doesn't prompt you to finish the question, choosing to let the silence wash over you both. The clattering of a spoon against ceramic is the only noise in the little kitchen. It's not something you hear too often - never waking up at the same time as Miguel through a combination of coincidence and sheer willpower. Naturally, your routines are asynchronous - a half step, half-hearted jig to crashing music. That is to say: if you and your roommate were partners in a… ballroom, perhaps: you’d be stepped-on-toes and two-left-feet on the dancefloor. Disastrous, to say the least.

And yet, half-asleep, you watch as he pads around the kitchen; poking into cupboards and bringing out the ingredients to a hearty breakfast. Eggs and chorizo and tortillas; your stomach rumbles at the thought of a proper cooked meal. Ever the stereotypical college student, your usual food has mostly been instant noodles and leftovers. Maybe you’re just tired, but he makes the drawers and fridge shelves seem bottomless. It’s clear Miguel eats and he eats well – because of course he does.

“Could you…” You jump a bit when he places a gentle hand at your waist, moving you to the side as he reaches for a chopping board on the counter. “Sorry. Do you mind?”

It’s brief, but the fleeting touch fucks with your head as he cooks. Flashes of the night before run up your spine, electric. You watch his deft fingers fly on the chopping board; slender, a wide palm covering the span of a large pepper. How would they feel on your waist – properly – at the crook of your back, or at your thighs? Sighing, you chew the inside of your cheek and lean your head back against the wall. You feel the whispers of another headache. It's much too early for this.

He puts a pan on the stove. Shirtless, despite the heat of the spitting oil, and he pops a piece of a bell pepper in his mouth with a little smile that makes you roll your eyes. It's smug, somehow, like he knows something you don't – like he knows exactly what he did yesterday (or rather, who) and he’s enjoying your reaction.

Except: you’re exhausted, and he’s giggling like you’ve caught a kid with cookie crumbs on their face, empty jar in hand.

It’s a quiet he sits with, comfortable; moving around the space with the kind of familiarity that comes with time. It makes you wonder just how long he's been here, which other roommates he’s terrorised over the years. Maybe, Miguel’s got a reputation, and there’s a Yelp review sitting somewhere you’ve neglected to read.

“Did you see her leave?” He still doesn’t look at you. Instead, his eyes are trained at the eggs on the pan, onions and veg making a lopsided smile in the runny yolk. Even his food seems smug.

“Her?” You frown, not quite following.

“...Katie?” He says it like it’s obvious, as if her name alone should set off half a dozen bells in your head. It’s Katie, this time - not Jia, or Sita, or the slew of other girls he’s been fucking in the past few weeks alone.

Your eye twitches. Involuntarily, of course, but it feels like your body is physically rejecting his bullshit.

“I didn’t know she stayed the night.” A lie, obviously. You heard her well enough through the walls, not even a couple of hours ago.

“S’okay,” He shakes his head, nonchalant. You trace the curve of his shoulders and gentle slope of his plump lips. “I would’ve called her an Uber, or something.”

“You’re a gentleman, Miguel.”

And he laughs, a deep rumble that rings off the tiles. Admittedly, you like the way it sounds, and the way his eyes crinkle up into crows feet. He’s pretty, you think. In an annoying kind of way.

Oh, fuck him. You get closer, and stick a fingertip into the rich red of the pan. Wrapping your lips around it, with the heat of Miguel at your back, and yes, it's fine. Okay, fucking incredible – you know, nothing you haven’t tasted before.

Making eye contact, you watch him blink in surprise. It’s the first time you’ve seen him unsure of himself; not dripping with the arrogance of a few minutes ago. Not wanting to give anything away, you keep your face steady.

"Needs salt, I think."

The spell is broken and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. "I've seen the crap you shovel into that big mouth of yours… ¿mi mamá no me enseñó a cocinar para que vengas a decirme que sabe mal…?"

[My mom didn't teach me how to cook so you can come here and tell me it tastes bad…?]

It's your turn to smile at the sweet taste of revenge. Not enough to fuel the next couple hours of essay writing, but a small victory nonetheless. You flash him pink tongue, and watch as his gaze drops to your lips for a fraction of a second.

"More salt?" He scoffs. "You wouldn't know good food if it bit you on the ass."

It's childish, but he chucks a tea towel at your head; and you narrowly miss it.

"Asshole." You spit out, frustrated. Your stomach grumbles, loud, and you watch his face crack, amused.

His lips curve into a shit-eating grin. "Idiot."

Face tight, you storm out of the kitchen.

You're holed up in your room for the rest of the day; only leaving for snack and toilet breaks. Luckily, Miguel doesn't disturb you, except for a full plate left outside your doorstep in the morning. It tastes delicious; warm and homely, but you'd rather pull your teeth out than see that stupid fucking grin on his face. Instead, you give him a grudging thanks, shrugging as if to say: it was somewhat edible.

And when you hit send on your essay, with a whole 11 minutes to spare, you sigh in relief. You got through it, eventually; even though your roommate is trying to kill you, your new apartment is falling apart and you're failing half your classes already. But you're through the day, and approaching the end of the week with minimal emotional damage. Key word: minimal.

In the warmth under the covers of your bed, it makes you think. It can't get any worse, right? It won't – it can't.

Something shifts. Like a rip in the space time continuum or a malevolent god, the universe snatches up that thought; ripe and ready to spit you back out onto the fire.

~~~

You wake up and something feels off, already. For one, light streams in through the blinds, a slight chill from the open window. It’s peaceful, and the first thing you hear is the song of morning birds just beyond the glass, instead of cars and clattering garbage trucks.

But it’s a Friday, and you’ve got that 9:00am; the one you were insane enough to sign up for at the beginning of the semester. What you should be hearing is the call-for-war of your alarm; the one that slaps you square across the face and wakes you the fuck up. On time, of course, but still the kind of sound that strikes fear into the hearts of grown men. Groggy, you wipe the sleep from your eyes. And then you frown. The lilting chirp of songbirds (well-fed pigeons that shit all over your windowsill, large enough to be classed as biological weapons), instead of your alarm…?

Your hands go cold, and dread creeps in. Reaching for your phone, you click it on and it shuts off just as quickly. You’re met with the red icon of a dead battery. Fuck.

Leaping out of bed, you rush into the hallway. From there, you see Miguel; out of his workout clothes and flitting in and out the kitchen. Except usually, at this time he’s just coming back from his run and banging at the door to hurry you out of the shower. He spots you and furrows his brow in confusion.

“Aren’t you meant to be…?”

You don't let him finish, and call out. “–What’s the time?”

He looks at his watch. “Uhhh… quarter past 8?”

“Fuck!” It erupts out of you, and you bite down the rest; opting to dart back into your room.

Miguel gets closer, pops his head towards your door; in the careful kind of way someone might approach a sleeping bear.

“Are you–”

When you open it in a robe and toiletries bag in hand, he’s there; tentative, and slow, and in your way. A beat passes and your eyes widen, incredulous. Like a fucking lump of coal, he’s slow on the uptake.

“...Move.”

You push past him into the bathroom and he throws his hand up to surrender. You’re the oddest person he’s had the pleasure (?) of sharing an apartment with, he thinks. Mostly harmless, but hard to read.

The shower sputters to life, changing from hot to ice cold in a second. You grit down a scream, powering through it until the suds wash off. Sheer resolve makes you towel off and change in record time.

You’re grabbing your bag and chucking whatever you can find in the fridge onto bread. Whilst making a crude sandwich, you’re distracted – going through the calculations in your head. You’ve got a train to catch in about 20 minutes, and if you keep a brisk pace you can make the walk in 15. When you switch subway lines to get across town, it’ll be tight, but you can make it up by cutting across the barriers and keeping those elbows sharp on the stairs. God forbid you miss the transfer, because you’ll have to wait another 15 minutes for the next one and–

Miguel watches by the doorway, a little amused. So caught up in your own world, you don’t notice. He takes a sip of a mug of hot coffee, and you look up. Your face, cute and all scrunched up as you concentrate; but he can’t help but enjoy the flash of displeasure on your face.

“Don’t want to hear it.” You’re spreading butter aggressively, if there was ever such a thing.

He shrugs. “...I didn’t say anything.”

“I can hear it, Miguel. You’re thinking out loud, and…” Wrapping up your meal in tinfoil, you stuff it into your bag. “...I don’t have the time to tell you to fuck off.”

With a little gasp, he clutches at hypothetical pearls. He gives you a sarcastic grin before you’re off – slamming the front door in your wake.

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #eventual smut #angst #kat_writes😼#rigor mortis 😼

1K notes · View notes

lawyerkarunasharma · 2 years ago

Text

Who bears the brunt of divorce?

#divorce lawyer #advocate #advocate karuna sharma #lady divorce lawyer #advocate near me #advocate in delhi #divorce #divorcelaywerindelhi #best divorce lawyer #divorce lawyer near me

0 notes

poirott · 3 months ago

Text

Agatha Christie's 'Towards Zero' tv series: First Look

The BBC has released the first pictures of Towards Zero, based on the classic mystery by Agatha Christie.

England, 1936. After a scandalous celebrity divorce, Nevile Strange and his ex-wife Audrey make the unthinkable decision to spend a summer together at Gull's Point, their childhood home and the coastal estate of Nevile's aunt, Lady Tressilian.

With unfinished business between the former childhood sweethearts, plus the presence of Nevile's new wife Kay, tensions are running high. Add to this a long-suffering lady's companion, a mysterious gentleman's valet, an exiled cousin with a grudge, a venerable family lawyer, an inquisitive orphan and a French con man, and soon there will be murder. A troubled detective must rediscover his purpose to untangle a toxic web of jealousy, deceit and dysfunction. Can he solve the crime before another victim meets their death?

The new pictures give a first glimpse at Lady Tressilian (Anjelica Huston), Inspector Leach (Matthew Rhys) and British tennis star Nevile Strange (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) - seen in the pics with the two ladies in his life: ex-wife Audrey (Ella Lily Hyland) and new wife Kay (Mimi Keene). The series is also starring Clarke Peters as Mr. Treves, an old friend of Lady Tressilian, Anjana Vasan as Mary Aldin, another party guest caught up in this disastrous mess, Jack Farthing as suspect Thomas Royde, Jackie Clune (Motherland), Grace Doherty (Call the Midwife), Khalil Gharbia (Mary & George), and Adam Hugill (Sherwood).

Towards Zero is expected to premiere on the BBC over the 2024 holidays and arrive on BritBox in early 2025. It's been adapted for screen by BAFTA-nominated Rachel Bennette (NW) and directed by the Olivier Award-winning Sam Yates (Magpie).

Source: BBC, Agatha Christie Official Instagram - October 1 2024

#towards zero #agatha christie #period drama #anjelica huston #matthew rhys #oliver jackson cohen #ella lily hyland #mimi keene #jack farthing #clarke peters #anjana vasan #can't wait for the newest christie show!#no trailer yet but should be soon!#director called the story 'psychological'#the love triangle is described as 'explosive'#there is no superintendent battle like in the book #but his nephew inspector leach is #i love the name :D #let's hope for a great christie christmas <3

142 notes · View notes

sammy8d257 · 2 months ago

Text

Saved Messages - AvA Sticktober 2024 Day 17

Written by Sammy8D257

Part of the Watered Down Hot Chocolate: A Melted Marshmallows Side Story

Word Count: 2123

CW: Angst & Hurt No Comfort, Swearing, Parental Sickness (Purple's Mom), Character Death (Purple's Mom), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

Summary:

You have 17 saved messages To listen to your messages, press 1 To send a message, press 2 To change your personal options, press 4 To disconnect, press * - [1]

[AvA STICKTOBER 2024 LIST]

[Ao3 ver.]

(LMAO- FINALLY POSTING THIS 2 WEEKS PAST THE END OF STICKTOBER, in my defense, I got busy and my attention was captivated by minecraft smp RP, RIP o7

I will preface this with a warning, this ficlet can get a little intense with the angst so take note of the CWs and take care of yourself! 💜)

=o=

You have 17 saved messages

To listen to your messages, press 1

To send a message, press 2

To change your personal options, press 4

To disconnect, press *

[1]

First Saved Message

Sent: March 2004

From: My Flower 🌸

"Hi baby! Hee-hee, I know you're just across the room but a certain someone is veeeeery excited about the new phones and wants to leave a very special message to test out the voicemail system."

[sounds of rustling]

"… okay now make sure to hold the phone like this- And speak clearly into here-"

"Hi papa! I have a super duper secret message to tell yah!"

[a pause before sounds of running feet across the floor]

"Wah-?! Purple my phon-"

[a door slam]

"Mama hid the cookies on the top shelf!And I love you so much!! You're the best papa in the world!!"

[the sounds of shuffling and the door opening]

"There you are my little sprout. May I have my phone back please?"

[giggling]

"Thank you Purple. How about we go see if your papa gets your message. And yes Blue, I can still see you laughing even if you hide behind the door frame. So here's my message! I love you my dear."

[END OF MESSAGE]

Second Saved Message

Sent: March 2004

From: My Flower 🌸

"Hello my love, do you think you could do me a huge favor and pick Purple up from school today? The ladies at the boutique are running a lot later than expected and I'm afraid I'll be holed up here for another hour."

[a muffled greeting can be heard]

"Oh hello Jewel, it's always a pleasure to see you today! If you give me one moment, I'm just finishing up a message for my husband!"

[a muffled affirmation]

"Thank you darling, I'll be with you in one moment!

Ah, duty calls! I have to go but oh! Before I forget, remind me to have our discussion later tonight. You know I'm not as knowledgeable when it comes to the whole stick figure fighting scene and if you're so keen on Purple to learning, I'd like to get more details."

[the sound of a doorbell alert rings]

"Oh hello! Welcome!

… I have to go, I love you Blue, see you and our little sprout at home!"

[END OF MESSAGE]

Third Saved Message

Sent: August 2011

From: Orchid

"..."

[a sigh]

"Listen, I know I'm probably one of the last people you want to talk to right now but whether you want to talk to me or our lawyers, we still need to discuss this."

"My lawyer stated that there are two routes we can take for this. Either we get fully divorced or we can do a legal separation. It is at the behest of my lawyer that we come to a decision soon and I'm inclined to agree."

"..."

"If you don't want to talk to me, then fine. Get your lawyer to talk to mine. I just… I just don't want to drag this out any longer than it needs to be."

[another sigh]

[mumbled] "... shit I need to check on Purple again…"

"Goodbye Blue."

[END OF MESSAGE]

Fourth Saved Message

Sent: June 2013

From: Orchid

"... Hi Papa. It's been a bit.

I uh, mama let me have her phone to play the tetris game and I clicked on the wrong thing, by accident! But it was the place with all the names and numbers and I found your name and it's been so long and I thought…

I turn 14 in a month. I think maybe, if you want, you could com-"

"Purple? Little sprout who are you talking to?"

"No one mama! I was-"

"May I have my phone back?"

"Yeah hold on let me just-"

[END OF MESSAGE]

Fifth Saved Message

Sent: June 2013

From: Orchid

"Don't talk to Purple."

"Do you hear me? Don't you ever talk to them again."

"We don't need you."

"I'm giving Purple a phone for their birthday and when I do, I will text you their number."

"Block them."

[END OF MESSAGE]

Sixth Saved Message

Sent: July 2013

From: [BLOCKED NUMBER]

"Hi Papa! It's Purple. Mama gave me a phone for my birthday."

"I got your number from Mama's phone so now we can talk again! Ah, or you know, whenever you have time."

"..."

"Mama got mad at me for calling you last month. She's still upset about you and I-"

"..."

"I don't know how I feel. It's my fault. I should have been better. I know I messed up. I just…"

"Uh! Eh, I apologize. I shouldn't worry you with that stuff. I hope you're doing well! I tried texting you but the message said it didn't deliver? I'll have to ask Mama if I messed something up again."

"But I'll call you again soon! Or maybe text? Uh, we'll see!"

"Umm… bye!"

[END OF MESSAGE]

Seventh Saved Message

Sent: May 2015

From: [BLOCKED NUMBER]

"Pap-uh… I mean, uh… Dad. Sorry. I'm sorry. I-"

[Three deep breaths]

"I'm sorry for calling you. I know you don't want me to. No one ever does but I don't know who else to call and I just-"

[another breath cut off by a short distressed whine]

"Mama she's- fuck, sorry I'm sorry. Mama is, we're, we're at the hospital. She collapsed and and and-"

"I'm scared. Dad, Papa, I'm scared. I don't-"

[A grunt followed by a hiss of pain]

[muffled] "Get a hold of yourself!"

[A deep breath]

"The nurse said to call someone in case Mama needs to stay overnight and I know you don't like me but- !"

[the sound of door opening]

[muffled] "Are you Ms. Orchid's child?"

"Yes, yes! Is she-?"

"Your mother is okay. The doctor is coming soon to look her over and she requested you to be present in the room for it."

"Okay okay, thank you, thank you. Let me just-"

[END OF MESSAGE]

Eighth Saved Message

Sent: May 2015

From: Orchid

"Why did you call me?"

"No actually better question, how did you know I was in the hospital? I swear to Cursors Blue if you talked to Purple I am going to-"

[frustrated sigh]

"Look, it doesn't matter all right? I'm…"

"Well, it's nothing that concerns you anymore."

"If you really want to talk, call me in 5 hours. Purple will be in bed by then."

"Goodbye."

[END OF MESSAGE]

Ninth Saved Message

Sent: February 2017

From: Purple

"Hello sir."

"I apologize, I probably caught you at a bad time but before you close this message completely, please hear me out."

[a pause and a sharp intake]

"I need you to increase the amount of alimony you send per month. Not by a lot! I got a part time job recently so that should help a lot with the problem but I'm still concerned."

"..."

"Mama she… Orchid's treatments aren't working. Well they're not making things worse but she's not getting better either. We've been fine up until now with paying for medical stuff but there's a new treatment that I want her to try but it's a little more expensive. I just worry…"

"All I'm asking is at max an additional 5% of what you're already paying monthly. And I know how much that is because I do the taxes now."

"... Please. I just want her to be okay."

[END OF MESSAGE]

Tenth Saved Message

Sent: February 2017

From: The Man 🕶️

"Hey hey hey, Big Shot! Wasn't expecting a call from Mr. 'Killer Cobalt' himself on my day off. Sorry I missed yah the first time, you know how busy a man can get."

"But regardless! I listened to your message and I'll see what we can do about getting you that increase in pay. Gotta talk with the bigwigs. In the meantime, if you really are in need of more dough, your best bet is to find some additional gigs to fight at. I might be able to sign you up for a tournament if you want?"

"Eh, we'll hash out the details later, preferably tomorrow. You know what they say, 'All work and no play makes Granite a very dull boy'.

Heheh, alright catch you later Blue."

[END OF MESSAGE]

Eleventh Saved Message

Sent: March 2017

From: Purple

"Thank you."

[END OF MESSAGE]

Twelfth Saved Message

Sent: March 2018

From: Orchid

[a muffled steady beeping]

"..."

"You know, despite it being months, no years of this happening to me, I still can't believe this is it."

[a shaky chuckle]

"I was hoping for you to be in the middle of a match to call you just so I didn't have to have this conversation in person. But now that I'm here, I wish I could hear your voice again."

"I wish I could hear you say you love me again… It's pathetic…"

[a wet laugh]

"Heartbreak. That's what I was diagnosed with. Heartbreak that developed into an actual heart condition because of my animation origins. Can you fucking believe that? All of this because I came from a drama animation."

"I don't know why I never told you… That's a lie, I know why. My pride. My pride didn't let me. I didn't want to believe you leaving had any effect on me. I didn't want to believe anything was wrong. I wanted to believe without you, everything could just go back to normal."

[a sob bit back with a laugh]

"Instead, I messed everything up. We failed them. I failed them. I failed Purple. I kept it all hidden until it was too late. What parent has their child to look after them like this? They just turned 18 a few months ago. They're still so young. And now I'm never going to see them grow-"

[sobbing]

"It's not fair. To any of us. I wish it didn't have to be like this. I wish you weren't such an asshole. I wish you didn't leave. I wish we never met. I wish I didn't still…"

"..."

"Goodbye Blue. I wish I didn't miss you."

[END OF MESSAGE]

Thirteenth Saved Message

Sent: April 2018

From: Purple

[sobbing]

"FUCK FUCK- BLUE- DAD- PAPA PLEASE"

"SHE'S DYING! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-

I KNOW YOU HATE ME! I DON'T CARE I DON'T CARE!

SHE'S DYING

IF YOU CARED ABOUT HER, IF YOU EVER CARED AT ALL, YOU'D BE HERE-

YOU CAN HELP HER

I CAN'T- SHE'S-

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

I DON'T WANT HER TO DIE

MAMA-

[sobbing and a thump]

Mama…

[END OF MESSAGE]

Fourteenth Saved Message

Sent: April 2018

From: Purple

"Fuck you. FUCK YOU"

"I hope you rot in hell. I hope there isn't a day where you don't regret your fucking actions and I hope you suffer for it."

"I hate you. I hate that you did this. I hate that you aren't here. I hate that I wasn't enough. I hate this. I hate you. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU-"

[sounds of sobbing, a frustrated scream and then loud crash]

[END OF MESSAGE]

Fifteenth Saved Message

Sent: April 2018

From:

"Thank you for calling Obelisk Funeral Services, I'm calling to confirm that full payment for the funeral of Orchid Grove has been handled by one, Blue "Killer Cobalt" Stick Figure, instead of the previously listed Purple Grove Stick Figure. All parties will be informed once the transaction goes through. A list of details will be emailed to all acting parties. If you have any questions, please call the call back number at the end of this message.

Obelisk Funeral Services appreciates your time, thank you."

[END OF MESSAGE]

Sixteenth Saved Message

Sent: April 2018

From: The Man 🕶️

"Hey Big Man, I got your message."

"Yeah, I get it yah know. A death in the family is always rough. Don't worry about nothin'. Take as many days off as you need."

"Heh, Cursors know it's been a minute for you."

"Just keep me updated on a time frame and we'll be right as rain."

"Take it easy buddy."

[END OF MESSAGE]

Seventeenth Saved Message

Sent: May 2018

From: Purple

"..."

"Thank you for paying for the funeral. I didn't see you there but…"

"I saw the flowers you put on her grave. They're lovely."

"..."

"I've made a decision. I'm leaving. The house and its belongings are yours to do as you want. Store it or sell it. It doesn't matter."

"I'm going to a place where you won't be able to find me. Do not try. I do not want to be found."

"..."

"If you care… just know I will be safe."

"Goodbye Blue."

[END OF MESSAGE]

End of Messages;

To listen to your messages, press 1

To send a message press 2

To change your personal options press 4

To disconnect press *

[1]

#Sammy8D writes #alan becker #ava sticktober 2024 #ava sticktober #animation vs minecraft #AvA fanfic #avm shorts #AvM Fanfic #AvA Cobalt #AvA Regular Blue #AvA Orchid #AvM Purple #AvAM Watered Down Hot Chocolate #AvAM WDHC Melted Marshmallow #AvAM WDHC MM #AvAM WDHC #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

66 notes · View notes

rebecca-arielle · 5 months ago

Text

hello have not been on here in literal years and reactivated simply to post my modern bridgerton hcs that came to me as i was falling asleep would not let me go until i wrote them down! enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~

the entire family is still very much british upper class - they regularly interact with the royals and attend all the family event like wimbledon and ascot. they are regularly featured in the pages of the tabloids much to their annoyance. they also went to either oxford, cambridge, or st. andrew’s (franny)

- anthony - still who he is, took over edmund’s position in the family business. huge company either a law firm, business like real estate or holdings. he’s ceo and damn good at his job. still viscount but it is really in name only.

- kate - still very much who she is, i can see her either going very much a lawyer or the artist route but i like to think of her as leaving her art as a hobby that she does simply for the pleasure of it.

- benedict - artist can do either painting or photography but has become very famous for it, initially it was because of the family name but then people started seeing his talent for what it is. his photos have been featured a bunch of times in british vogue and he is one of their go to photographers.

- sophie - very much a primary school teacher because of her experience with araminta as a child she was determined to not let that happen for other children so she makes damn sure that while they are at school in her class they know some one is looking out for them.

- colin - travel writer. he works for some magazine and has his own column. the magazine is owned by like some big media company that has their own building.

- penelope - pen works for a different magazine that is owned by the same parent company as colin’s so they work in the same building when colin is not on assignment. she secretly still runs lady whistledown that is like deux moi and once she gets outed she starts her own mini media empire. still besties with eloise.

- daphne - she is very much the perfect socialite philanthropist that is so perfect she seems like she would be a bitch but truly is that nice. is still married to simon after they fake dated due to some media scandal. lives her absolute best WAG life and has the season down to a science.

- simon - is a huge sports star, think david beckham. technically was still the duke but officially gave up the title to piss off his father. this man was born to be girl dad.

- eloise - once she realized just how much privilege she has, she put her money where her mouth is and is constantly going to protests much to anthony’s annoyance (not because he doesn’t agree with the cause just because she is giving the family a bad name in the press, he actually super proud of her.) el went to school for a degree in women and gender studies and is super involved in academia when not getting arrested.

- phillip/a - a botany professor at the university where el is based out of. still has the kids from their previous relationship with marina but they were able to get a divorce because it is the 21st century and co parent the twins quite well. their gender honestly doesn’t matter for this, they love plants and eloise - the order of that is not important.

- francesca - autistic, it is important to me that you know that. she is a film composer, she loves getting to create the score for movies and that it doesn’t require that much human interaction.

- john - still unfortunately passes away, but prior to that was some kind of finance guy. was generally the nicest guy and loved fran with his entire heart.

- michael/michaela - hot. like the most beautiful human being you have ever laid eyes on. they work as an actor because it’s fun but secretly are insanely smart and like build computers for fun.

- gregory - anthony’s mini me and he wouldn’t have it any other way. he works for the family company and loves it. generally small bean like but is insanely tall, like taller than benedict much to everyone’s annoyance but no one more than hyacinth. he worships the ground lucy walks on but they only have three or four kids because they have access to birth control.

- lucy - a mini kate. also a lawyer who’s family firm got bought by kate’s and then started working under her where she eventually met greg when he was visiting his favorite sister kate for their monthly lunch date. has ocd.

- hyacinth - a child prodigy, started university at like 15 (which she never lets greg forget) works as a ta (or whatever the uk equivalent is) for agatha who is an old family friend through whom she meets gareth. her field is like archeology or some other super niche thing. (agatha does not have to teach, she does it because if she doesn’t how else will the new generation ever be taught the right way to do things)

- gareth - is so fucking chill but absolutely matches hyacinths freak. no one is quite sure what he does, he has explained it many times but no one truly knows even hyacinth.

- violet - was besties with princess diana (old money england) she unfortunately passes around the same time as edmund and she just loses it. luckily it is the modern days was able to get help but it took a little while. though once she is back on her feet she is a force to be reckoned with. she runs the family foundation which focuses on mental health and allergy awareness.

thank you for reading this! i will take no criticism at this time but welcome any addition thoughts!

89 notes · View notes

avlegal · 2 years ago

Text

BEST FAMILY LAWYER IN DELHI – CONTACT US :- 9953470048

As a family law firm, we provide legal assistance to families. As a leading family law firm in Delhi, we have a proven track record best lady divorce lawyer in Delhi

We provide family law consultations and representation in court for our clients.

In all six district courts in Delhi, we serve clients with a robust team of lawyers and a wide network. As well as District Courts and High Courts of India, we serve the courts in the NCR regions.

Read More :- BEST MOTOR ACCIDENT ADVOCATES IN DELHI — CONTACT US

How can we help our clients as family lawyers ?

Family law consultations are free online

We offer free online evaluations of family law cases

In court representation of clients

Settlements or mediations

Who are our clients and why do they choose us to be their family lawyer? Fair and impartial views

– Excellent legal advice.

There may be a lot of complexity involved. The importance of listening to the client cannot be overstated.

We listen to what you have to say. A practical solution is developed based on legal criteria.

Paperwork or documentation should be in order

Family law and matrimonial law services that are effective

Read also :- BEST LADY DIVORCE LAWYER IN DELHI INDIA — ANITA VARMA

Honouring Clients’ Trust

There are problems with the client. The solution is not available to him. The vision that leads to a solution may not be in his head.

It is the responsibility of professionals to provide clients with solutions that are in their best interests. To give him a clear view of what needs to be done.

The trust you place in us is respected.

Confidentiality

Clients share their issues with professionals. Client information may be contained in these issues.

Client confidentiality is respected by us.

Are we providing family law services in any of these locations?

Our clients can take advantage of these services in the following locations:

-Delhi

– Noida

– Greater Noida

– Gurugram

– Faridabad

– Ghaziabad

Our FAQs section can answer general questions.

We can be contacted if you have specific questions about family law:

– Fix an appointment

– Email. [email protected]

– Call : +91–9953470048

– Whatsapp message

– Instant chat

– Contact us :- 337, East of kailash Prakash Mohalla, New Delhi-110065

Source:- https://avlegalalliance.com/view_blog.php?link=best-family-lawyer-in-delhi-contact-us-9953470048

#best lady divorce lawyer in Delhi

0 notes

copperbadge · 8 months ago

Text

I went to the library this afternoon, intending to get a study room and do some work on the novel, but I got distracted and ended up spending the two hours working on a short story instead.

Georgie has said that Michaelis hired her after she rescued his friend's child from a kidnapping, and it was suggested to me recently that the friend could be Oliver McAllister, Michaelis's old school mate from Pirates of the Riviera. I was skeptical because the timing didn't quite work out, but I couldn't stop thinking about the idea, so I decided to try making it work.

And let me tell you, these messy bitches.

In 2015, Michaelis is deep in his Kingbot 3000 phase so he doesn't have to Have Feelings, and Gregory has coerced him into taking a vacation by threatening a coup. Meanwhile, Olly is fresh from his second divorce, from a woman who just tried to kidnap their child. Georgie is the most together person in the room and she's an unemployed twentysomething who just beat three men unconscious to prevent said kidnapping.

And the most amusing part to me is that because of how I set it up, Michaelis is just trying to be friendly but inadvertently keeps coming across like he's trying to seduce Georgie. Which also makes Georgie joking about trying to marry him for his money in Royals/Ramblers even funnier.

"Ma'am, the police would like to take a statement," Lael said to Georgie.

"I can have Lael find you a lawyer if you want," Michaelis added. She gave him a sardonic look.

"All right, let's get it over with," she sighed. "There goes my visit to the Musee D'Orsay."

"We'll give you the room. Olly, why don't you go in with your boy, so the police can speak with you if needed. Lael and I will be at the cafe next door when you've finished."

Georgie nodded, but he stopped as he passed her and put a hand on her arm.

"Come see us when you're done," he said quietly, ducking his head so the police at the doorway couldn't see their faces. "And cancel your job interview in London."

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Stay in Paris. You can see the museum this weekend. The palace will cover your lodging and food."

"I...don't want to offend," she said slowly, "but I'm not -- "

"I'm not flirting with you," he said, realizing belatedly how it might seem to her, and taking his hand from her arm. She looked faintly relieved. "I'm going to spend the time you're giving a statement assembling a job offer for you with my security office. Any young woman who can spot a kidnapping before it happens and soundly beat three grown men should not be leaving Askazer-Shivadlakia to do a job she hates in London. Now, regardless of that, and I say this as a concerned friend, not as king or employer: be honest and helpful with the police, but...economical."

"Just the facts?" she asked.

"Exactly." He gave her an approving nod and followed Lael out. They were silent in the hallway and lobby, until they stepped out into the street and Lael exhaled.

"That was impressive," he said. "Young lady has a great right hook."

"She's certainly very alert," Michaelis agreed.

"It's been a long time since I've seen someone throw a punch like that."

"Say it and you're fired," Michaelis said good-naturedly. He'd known Lael since the head of security had been a young palace aide during Michaelis's first days as king -- if still years older than the king himself -- and he knew what was coming.

"Not since our last trip to Galia," Lael said, voice full of relish. "That time a young hothead punched Duke Tomas in the face."

"Utterly fired. I've found your replacement. I'm putting you out to pasture with no pension."

"You think she'd make a good successor to me?" Lael asked. He was joking but, simultaneously, he was not -- they were both getting older, and Lael was as aware as Michaelis that when a new king was elected in a few years, whoever it was, they would need someone younger, someone who could more easily keep up with them.

"You tell me," Michaelis said. "You're the expert."

"Oh, I've been fired, clearly my opinion isn't wanted," Lael said, as they settled into a table at the cafe, Lael with his back to the wall, eyes always scanning behind Michaelis. There had never, at least as far as Michaelis knew, been an attempt on his life, but he'd become used to never getting direct eye contact in public from the man whose job it was, after all, to watch his back.

"Fine, I withdraw your firing. I suspect purely on her ability to sass me, she is your equal if not your better," he added, as the waitress approached. He ordered coffee and pastries briskly, then turned back to Lael.

"Well, it's difficult to tell on two minutes' acquaintance," Lael replied, "but actions do speak louder than words."

"Agreed. Perhaps a contingent offer? She has a law degree; she could likely earn more than we could offer her for a job like yours, but I think she's looking for the right job, not the right pay. Say three months of probation with guaranteed six months of pay to ensure she takes it, and a firm permanent offer at the end if you approve? Conditions non-negotiable but a bit of wiggle room in the salary, I think."

Lael considered it, then nodded. "I suppose it's paranoia to imagine she might have arranged all this to get into the Palace employ."

"As what, a spy? I love a thriller novel, Lael, but they are fiction," Michaelis replied, amused.

#shivadhverse

136 notes · View notes