#move out but how much am i really because i can’t bring myself to schedule another tour and start searching for a new home in earnest.

[pepprs]

[spooksforsammy]

Despite my age I still need help with many tasks that my four year old niece can independently do.

I have low-medium support needs closer to the medium side, which is why just say medium support needs. I need help with some Badls and just about all Iadls

Here’s an idea on what it means for me to be medium support needs. This is a extremely simplified version of explanations

Badls:

Basic activities of daily life are

Eating (moving food to and from mouth) dressing, personal hygiene(washing, doing hair, shaving ect) , toilet, and transferring(moving from one place to another)

I need help with personal hygiene, toilet and occasional dressing

Personal hygiene: I need intensive prompting to shower, change clothes and need help with shaving. When it comes to showering, have be told multiple times, over and over and over and some days that’s not even enough. Something have to have someone turn on shower and get towel and clothes and tell me to get in.

During the school week I brush my teeth on a schedule, so come weekend and breaks have to reminded often do so. Middle school had be reminded brush teeth no matter day or week so is improvement and hopefully one day can remember do no matter schedule or day.

Washing hair is problem not only because hate water in hair and face but because how many steps are. I’m still deeply afraid to wash hair for multiple reasons and often convince sister do for me. Even times where managed do self, did wrong to point where Sister still have go in and rewash. Have thick hair so have scrub correctly and in the shower freeze up. Hard even open eyes.

Tolieting: when say need help don’t really mean emptying but getting there so can empty. Can’t tell when need use bathroom until really bad so every few hours am told go try. If not told use bathroom will hold until no option but use, so do pee self at times.

Dressing: this isn’t a huge problem of mines, but if not told change clothes will keep wearing same ones. This also because memory problems, so don’t remember if already worn or not. The only thing really allowed rewear is jackets because safe jackets always wear when out.

IADLS:

Instrumental Activities of Daily Living are

using the telephone, shopping, preparing meals, housekeeping, using transportation, taking medication(s), and managing finances. I need help with all these.

Using the telephone:I don’t need help using the telephone in sense of getting on and off phone or tablet, but when come to phone calls or staying safe (not giving out too much information that personal). My boyfriend has access to all my accounts and monitors them to make sure no one does anything weird or that can ruin my safety. My boyfriend and sister makes my phone calls, helps with emails (saying what type, what not do ect) and not able schedule things by self.

Shopping: im not allowed to leave the house by myself unless it’s to go to my boyfriend’s house or to the bus stop (both times it’s a route where either can be watched or someone family know and trust can keep eye on me. So even if along am being monitored). Im not allowed in stores alone as they are huge and i wonder. I also have low awareness and am not aware when danger is around or happening. Am allowed go shopping with others but that’s just walking around.

Transportation: this is also appart of low awareness. Can’t ride bus alone, can’t drive. Can’t even ride bike. Not fully aware world around so wouldn’t know where go. Also get overwhelmed on buses around many people and shutdown; shutdown ruin sense of awareness more.

Medication: is memory problem and can’t tell when need take. For example pain killers, can’t tell when bad enough to take or when in pain and need take. Haven’t been on prescription in years but was on, nana had bring pill to me take otherwise wouldn’t remember.

Finances: don’t know how manage money. Don’t know how much money apps work and can’t count. Couldn’t understand how much need spend how much have. When come cash, lose often because forget where place. Also struggle with saving up, so when someone in charge, can’t spend just because have. Sister and boyfriend in charge of managing for me but try help.

Meal prepping: I don’t fully understand how to meal prep and am not fully trusted around the stove, oven and knives. When using them, have to have supervision otherwise will cut or burn or otherwise hurt self. Don’t understand shouldn’t do certain things (example: made caramel, boyfriend was in kitchen watching make and was stirring wrong but didn’t know was doing wrong and burned hand and thigh). And certain things shouldn’t go certain places. Also can’t stay focused long enough do and stims and sensory issues get in way.

Housekeeping: can clean up space but once again have be told. And even if clean, one boyfriend help withe everything clean up and someone else (sister or oldest brother) have go back in and actually clean up. Am working on it but is sense of don’t understand what need be clean what okay and remembering where everything go so put in spot think belong. Prompting isn’t enough to clean up room though, to many steps involved and remember what belongs where is something struggle with deeply. Also includes sensory like having touch multiple things, sounds and smells. Stims also get in way to point where not able do.

And something didn’t include in alot of these (even if should have) is fact that sort of ‘freeze up’ when having do them. Like with bathing, get stuck like unable move when need shower. Even if want move can’t, and in some of these times can’t even move mouth or get brain think. Just stand there.

Taking baths would help but feel held down when taking them. When sit in water unable move, feel like sinking and being held down at same time. Start chocking and gasping for air like breathing not possible.

In other cases, body and mind feels like just… broke and not able do anything anymore. Will sit there unresponsive until body ready continue on with task or thought of task disappeared.

For alot of Iadls not able actually do self so someone else doing or going in and redoing for me. I’m working on some ( shopping, telephone) but even if able get down, someone else will always need be around help.

[jifanjiang0710]

Alblutio - Yan Albedo x reader

A/N: Happy Lantern Festival!

Tw for talks of death.

Entry 1. Weather: Clear Albedo gave me a journal log, to record the nuances of everyday life. I am to pen down in words my emotions and thoughts throughout the day. I am told that expressing complicated feelings onto paper will help process them. Right now, I feel hesitant. I am unaccustomed in having such a responsibility. Albedo says that this is a trivial matter, so I will not ponder on it.

Entry 7.  Weather: Clear Albedo encouraged me to write more sentences, and showed me a book. It was astounding to see how many words had been written in it. This particular type of writing is called a ‘novel’, unlike lab reports or observation logs. I asked if I could read it, but was refused. I will refrain from bringing it up in the future, but he did say that I enjoy reading. I must remember that. I enjoy reading.

Entry 9.  Weather: Heavy snow Right now, I feel cold. The wind is blowing. I cannot feel pain from it, but it is uncomfortable. I don’t think I like wind and cold, but Albedo says I do, so I like the wind and cold. Tomorrow there will be another person visiting, and I will meet that person. I am apprehensive.

Entry 10.  Weather: Snowy I accidentally referred to myself in third person in front of the visitor. They had golden hair that shone unlike anything I’d seen before. I made a grave mistake, and the visitor looked shocked. I did something wrong, so that warranted the punishment of cold. Standing out there in the snow, I thought of animals who are caught in the cold for extended periods of time. Slowly, they do not move. They fall and never get back up again. I asked Albedo is that would ever happen to me. Immediately I sensed my transgression, for he was angry and hurt. No, he said. No, I would not, because Albedo cares for me very much and would never let that happen, ever. Right now, I feel sorry for disobeying Albedo, and making him disappointed.

Entry 39.  Weather: Snowy My name is [Name]. My favourite food is sticky honey roast. I like to read, and I like to smile. My favourite person is Albedo. I must memorise them well, lest I forget and get them wrong again. My name is [Name]. My favourite food is…

Entry 70.  Weather: Sunny Today is warm and comfortable. It is my day of birth. Albedo took me out for a walk. It was beautiful, the way the snow-covered paths look in the glow of sunset. I voiced this out loud, to which he nodded in approval. I like scenery. He held out a flower, but seemed slightly aggravated by my lacklustre reaction. You like flowers, he said. But I much prefer the little animals that hop and scamper in the snow. You like this flower, he insists, and sighs. Okay, I said. I like this flower. Sometimes I wonder if I really do.

* The weather is perfect today, a convenient coincidence.

“Good morning, [Name],” he says, alone.

“Morning, Albedo!” The alchemist spares you a glance. To see you this early in the morning is surely a blessing. “Hello, [Name].” He’s almost done.

“I hereby proclaim this unique occasion a nationwide public holiday, so you should get off work for once,’ you pester. Anything to pull this man away from work.

“Is that so? What prompts this ‘unique occasion’?” Just a little more detail. He can’t seem to get your eyes right.

“Hey…” your voice trails off. “You didn’t forget my birthday, did you?” Your shoulders droop a fraction, and Albedo hastily offers his reassurance.

“Of course not. I have cleared my schedule for the day, should you wish to spend it with me.” He blinks. Tentatively, he speaks up again. “You do want to celebrate with me, right?” Careful. He wouldn’t want to lose composure in front of you.

“That’s a given. In honour of that, here you go.” You shove a bouquet of your favourite flowers into his arms. “What’s my gift?” you say, leaning over his shoulder to peek at the sketch in his hand. “Is that me? Can I look?”

“No. It has yet to be completed. I’ll give it to you once it’s done.”

How pathetic. In the end he never did finish that drawing. It was left in the drawer that hadn’t been opened for years. He is afraid to look at it again.

Everything had been kept the way you left it. Sometimes he leaves your shoes by the door, if only to give himself the impression that you’d only gone out temporarily, and that you’d arrived safely home.

His own lab is dark, the ashes have long gone cold. Today is your birthday. Happy birthday, [Name]. He clutches his chest with trembling fingers. Sometime he wished Rhinnedottir had never given him a heart, then this emptiness wouldn’t weigh on him like heavy fog. Why? Was it fate? Did everything have to culminate into it? Why did it have to leave such an impact behind? Wouldn’t it be so much easier if-

“Albedo?”

If he closes his eyes long enough, maybe he’ll wake up and see you. If he tries and believes hard enough, it will become real.

“Albedo.”

Don’t listen, don’t listen, Albedo. You’ll wake up from this nightmare soon. Wake up, Albedo.

“Albedo!”

He opens his eyes to the same blank walls of his Dragonspine laboratory. His throat is dry. “Yes, [Name]?”

“You were not moving. Are you alright?”

“I am.” He’s so tired. “Is there anything you require?”

“Ah…yesterday you said that we could go outside for a walk? Since it’s my birthday today…”

“Alright, we’ll make preparations now.” He has long since learnt to fake a smile.

*

Entry 83.  Weather: Heavy snow The golden-haired visitor came again, discreetly. Right now, I am conflicted, and guilty for having kept this from Albedo. Am I a  bad person for doing so? The Traveler says no. The Traveler asked for my name, among many other things. They asked me a lot in that brief period of time. They left with one final word of advice.

Do not trust Albedo.

How could I do that? Albedo is  I don’t think that  I am at a loss at how to word it. It’s impossible. Albedo would never do anything to hurt me. Since as far back as I can remember, he has been there. He is like family. If I were to doubt him, then who else would there be to trust?

Entry 85.  Weather: Heavy snow I can’t help but think there is something off about him. No, there must be something off with me. And I think he knows. It might be attributed to an overactive imagination, but his stares linger, and behind my back it is as if his gaze burns. While he was out, I entered his laboratory, and I stared at the cupboard he keeps locked. Do not trust Albedo, they say. And, as if possessed by some unimaginable will to do something, anything to quell the disturbance in my mind, I took the key and unlocked it. It was right there, hanging like some fruit I ought not taste.

I’m sorry, Albedo. My actions today were unforgiveable, but I will not tell him. It is not a cupboard; it is a door. To where? The answer lies in whether I will have the courage to open it. There is one more thing. Did Albedo, with his impeccable intuition, anticipate that I would do this? And if so, could he have intentionally let me discover this secret on my own? The thought is blasphemous, and I highly doubt it. I must be dreaming. I can only hope that I will not be tempted by curiosity.

Entry 90. Do not trust Albedo. Do not trust Albedo. Do not trust Albedo. I will repeat it as many times as I can until I remember. I must first calm myself and articulate my feelings, though my hands shake uncontrollably. Right now, I feel betrayed, horrified and above all, I am scared. I will not speak of today’s events at all after this.

I am almost sure that he intended for me to see what I did today. He intended for it, but there is no guarantee he knows that I went today in particular. I can only bank on this chance, and that my attempts at feigning ignorance will work, if only temporarily. Through the cupboard-door, down the corridor, and into the lab I had never seen before, I saw myself. I saw myself encased in ice, a final resting place. The ‘me’ in the ice coffin shared the exact same facial features and physique, except the sear on my forearm, which ‘I’ lacked. ‘I’ was not moving. Like those helpless animals stuck out in the cold, ‘I’ would never get up again. And on the shelves lining the walls, boxes and jars were stacked as high as the ceiling, and I daresay I can guess their contents.

I knew immediately that this version of me is not the first. I am one of many. He has been treating my predecessors and I like experiments, and one day, my time will be up.

I leave this place tomorrow, at the first stroke of dawn. Whatever he wishes to achieve, I hope it never comes to fruition.

* Number 079 has been down here.

It was careful not to leave the more prominent traces behind, but Albedo knows. In its haste it overlooked crucial details. He should have come to expect this. The ones in the 60s and 70s pried too much for their own good. A deep sigh escapes him, like a man who has not known peace for a great many years. He caresses your face preserved by cold, admiring the eyelashes that once fluttered and the lips that once curved into a smile. You are beautiful, even like this. Even if your immobile heart and still pulse commands that Albedo will never feel the warmth of your touch.

“It doesn’t scare me anymore.”

“No. You can’t say this. You never told me anything.”

“Albedo-“ he refuses to look at you, yet his grip on your hand is firm. “I couldn’t bring myself to. This wasn’t something I could’ve said easily, but I’m finally coming to terms with it. I am no longer frightened of what comes next.”

“Please,” you want to cry, because you have never heard so much raw emotion in his voice, “don’t leave me.”

And you are at a loss for words, because how does one respond to that? “I’m sorry,” is all you can do.

“You can’t go,” is what he says. ‘I will not let you go,’ is what he means. And until Celestia falls, he will make sure you stay.

Another failed experiment. The rack of test tubes is sent crashing onto the cold floor. Number 079 is not you, and it will never be you. Then, like all the other guinea pigs, there is only one thing left to do with it. He walks out with a final glance at your body, so peaceful that you could be sleeping, and reaffirms with a one-sided promise.

“Good night, [Name]. See you soon.”

*

Entry 1.  Weather: Sunny. Albedo said I needed a medium through which I can channel my thoughts and feelings. If I ever felt overwhelmed, I can pen it down in here. Alright, then. Behold, the very first entry log from [Name] 080’s journal!

[eggnogablog]

Friendship is so underrated

I’ve been having such a great time hanging out with my new friends from work. It took me a long time to learn how to be a good friend, and to find people who were willing to be good friends back. The two people I’ve been getting to know are a girl from Kenya and a boy from Brazil. It’s also just nice to hang out with coworkers close to my age, since many people I work with are in their forties or older.

I mentioned in my last read-more post that I have a crush on my coworker, the Brazilian guy I just mentioned. He knows that I am dating someone from EHarmony (as in, we’ve had two dates and scheduled a third). Yesterday, he came to me and said, “I really want to go to this restaurant with you, since it would be awkward to go alone. But I don’t want to get in the middle of your relationship.”

See, he just got divorced, and his ex-wife was at least emotionally cheating with someone from work, if not actually cheating. So he’s very aware of the need for proper boundaries. I immediately told him, “It’s fine! I already told him about you and he is okay with us hanging out.” I started dating EH-guy around the same time that I started hanging out more with Brazil-guy.

I wish I could just transfer my crush on Brazil-guy to EH-guy. Because EH-guy is very nice! And cute. But we just don’t know each other that well yet. 

At the moment, I’m just trying to ignore the crush and never act on it. We keep boundaries up; we rarely touch each other, and if we do it’s in safe/platonic ways. But it’s harder to ignore just how much better suited Brazil-guy and I are to each other than this EH-guy is. We share the same religion, we have similar though not identical political views, we’re avid non-fiction readers, we’re passionate about our shared profession and what in it needs to change, and we’ve both lost our same-gender parent and been recently dumped. We have so much to talk about that it’s hard to find a stopping point, but silence is also comfortable. Even though English is his third language, I find it easy to understand him, and he’s a wonderful listener.

If he weren’t going through so much right now, and didn’t seem to need a friend so much, I would be trying harder to distance myself from him. I know this extra time with him will only prolong my feelings. But I am being very strict with myself about it. No daydreaming, no touching, and any thought that tends to romance I sharply cut off.

I kind of wish he would indicate an absolute disinterest in me. It might make that strictness easier. I feel that I’ve gotten prettier due to body recomp, better habits, etc. But that doesn’t mean he is or ever will be attracted to me. That’s not how attraction works. I can quietly hope for it, but I would also be so concerned if he wanted to date anyone right now. Like they JUST filed the paperwork. He’s struggling with the idea of being single again. At least he still has the cat and his work friends. We will help him move to a new place for a fresh start next month. Sadly, he’s also transferring roles at work, so we won’t be able to chat there. But maybe this will mean we can hang out more outside of work?

The thing is, I love this friendship. I have never had many friends at one time. It took me some time to make friends since moving here a few years ago. And even though he’s almost everything I’ve been looking for in a husband, I refuse to jeopardize this friendship or make him uncomfortable. I’m trying to live in the moment and focus on non-romantic goals. It’s possible that in a few months or a year, my friend will be interested in dating again, and he might consider me as an option. But I can’t bet on it, nor should I treat our friendship as a waiting stage for that not-so-likely future. 

All I can do is keep working to be good and glorify God. It’s important to bring my desires to God, so that He can purify them and remove those that do not accord to His will. That which it is not right for us to receive, God does not grant. “Desire is prayer; and no loss can occur from trusting God with our desires, that they may be moulded and exalted before they take form in words and in deeds.” (S&H p. 1:11)

[ifhymona]

٭* Not Too Late *٭

Chapter 6 | chino moreno x reader

chapter 5 ~ chapter 7 | AO3

1.2k words

life has been super busy lately. the band is working on their sophomore album. they wanted to tease the album by playing a few songs at the gig coming up. i’m not sure on what name they’ve decided on but so far, i just know it’s gonna be a hit!

i wish i could listen to them practice but i’ve been working on making sure we have enough cds and vinyls to sell, making eps to tease some of their new album and making t-shirts. i didn’t mind the work load though. it was better than being in my room all day.

stephen ended up getting a cold, of course when we have a busy schedule. so chino just told everybody to practice on their own to try and perfect their sound isolated.

i kept on with my very busy day though. i did drop off stephen some soup, just to check in on how he was doing. i didn’t have to but stephen’s my friend and i like doing nice things for people.

after i dropped off his soup, abe paged me.

‘call me.’ i wonder what this is about. i walked to my nearest pay phone just two blocks away and dialed abe’s number.

he picked up. “y/n! what are you doing today?”

“oh just busy with making merchandise for the show. why what’s up?”

“well since you’re busy, i was thinking maybe you’d want some help?”

“i mean are you sure? you don’t have to.”

“i’m sure. plus how am i gonna be in the band and not see all the behind the scenes.” he laughed.

“well meet me at this place” i give him the address.

“i’ll see you there.” he smiled.

~

“so what are we going to do today?” the room we were in was fairly small but luckily it was just me and abe. there were four screen printing machines and a table off to the side with a few chairs. there was also a fridge and a microwave on a light stand. the fluorescent lights really brought this room all together.

“well we’re going to use these screen printers to make the t-shirts. i have to make a few calls with the record label about buying cds and stuff in bulk to sell.”

“how much are you trying to buy?” i bring out a box of medium white t-shirts onto the table.

“well i hoping for around 250 cds 250 records and 250 cassettes.”

“and how much will that cost?” he gulped.

i chuckled. “you don’t need to know.”

i think he was processing how much money that would cost us. “well, chop chop. we got a lot of t-shirts to make.” i clapped my hands together and got started with work.

~

after a few calls discussing money with the the record label, i was able to start helping abe with some t-shirts.

“so, how long have you and chino known each other?” abe asked.

“chino and my brother were friends in middle school. they were a year ahead of me but i still hung around them whenever chino would come over. in high school me and chino started hanging out together without my brother and we had some good times. then we just fell out my sophomore year.” i sighed.

“yeah i remember when that happened. chino would talk about you all the time!” he rolled his eyes. “oh, y/n never called! how could she? why won’t she just talk to me?” he mocked chino pouting his face.

i laughed. did chino really talk about me? it was hard for me to believe abe. i can’t imagine myself as a conversation topic. let alone someone chino would bring up often.

“chino would talk about you from time to time but he never introduced us to you. we’d see you around at school because we’d catch chino looking at you.” he laughed out loud. “i didn’t realize you were the same girl when you came in to be interviewed.”

“yeah and i didn’t realize chino was gonna be my co-worker for a job i applied for.” i sighed. “i’m sure he moved on after a few months.”

abe scoffed. “yeah right! anytime we’d kickback and smoke and drink together, somehow at the end of the night, your name was always brought up. even after graduation, he talked about you every so often. sometimes during practice, his voice even suffered. we would have to end days short so he could clear his thoughts and get back on track. even now he talks about things you two did before you stopped talking.”

“no way. you don’t have to lie to me.” i looked away. why would he talk about me? he had no reason to.

“i’m being serious! he has like a secret obsession with you or something.” he smirked. i blushed thinking about chino. what is going on with me always thinking about chino?

“anyways i’m glad you two made up. chino’s always sounded really good but i think since you’ve been around he’s been really pushing to be perfect.”

“if that is the case, i’m glad he is. you guys are honestly my favorite band at the moment.” i said, putting my hand over my heart.

“thanks y/n. i really appreciate that.” he smiled.

“enough about me. what’s it like being the coolest drummer ever?” i smirked.

“i love it! i never thought i would be a drummer for a popular band. it’s so riveting to be up on stage playing the drums. seeing all the fans show up to see us is what gets me pumped!” he shook his fist.

“i bet! i’m excited to see you guys play live!” i enthused.

he let out an audible gasp. “i totally forgot you haven’t seen us play live! you’re gonna love it.” he looked around, despite it being just us. he covered his mouth like he was telling a secret. “don’t say anything but we just decided on a name for the album. we’re naming it around the fur!” he grinned.

“around the fur.” i repeated then smiled. “i love it! it has a nice ring to it.”

“i know right! we’re even going to go on tour after the release of our album.”

“shut up! that’s so cool! it’s gonna be so much fun abe!” i started thinking about going on tour with them. how much fun it would be to go on a tour bus all across the country. meeting all their fans and seeing them perform countless times. i’d get to create memories with them that i’d never forget.

we continued to enthuse about the tour and the album while making t-shirts.

~

we spent five and a half hours making loads of t-shirts and talking the whole time. i’m really glad i got to spend this time with abe. he told me stories from his childhood and the early days of the band. i told him more about me and my past. we both enthused about topics we were both interested in like music and clothing brands and magazines. he even told me what it was like going on tour with other artists like korn and ozzy osbourne.

“thanks for helping me today abe. next time you want to help, let me know! i can always use it.” i smiled.

“no problem y/n! it was cool hanging out with you. it’s refreshing to hang out with someone new.” he smiled.

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter ! i just wanna clarify, in case anyone is confused, abe and y/n are purely platonic. so don’t go thinking a love triangle is forming bc there’s not. they’re just gonna be an iconic duo 😘 anyways new chapter will be up next week ! lots of love <3

[thehomebodydiaries]

homebody diaries .002.

the amount of reading that i’ve been doing lately makes me think of when i first discovered booktube: i learned about all these popular books and i was broke for like a consistent year because i wouldn’t stop buying books, but i only made like $9/hr. even now, with a full-time job that pays me almost twice that much, i still don’t know why that worked out for me. it definitely should not have.

anyway, yesterday was “free comic book day” and a local comic store gave me a bag of like sixteen free comics, and then i turned around and spent $80 on more comics. it also reminded me that i had two comics in my favorite series that i haven’t read yet. so i’ve got volumes 10 and 11 of “saga,” and yesterday i purchased the first volumes of “deadly class” and “something is killing the children,” as well as junji ito’s manga interpretation of mary shelley’s “frankenstein,” and then “old man logan,” which is about an elderly wolverine (whose healing capabilities are faltering) who gets picked up by an old hawkeye. it’s what inspired the movie logan, which is objectively speaking the only good x-men movie (do not come for me, i watched those movies for the first time in release date order like last month ago, and i am lowkey way more into the x-men than i am the rest of the marvel heroes, save for like agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.). i also received a package in the mail containing the fifth book in one of my favorite series: the witchlands series by susan dennard. oh my god, and i started the wayward children series by seanan mcguire and it’s so good. and i’m waiting on two more books in the mail, both for my bookclub.

i am so content with it too. i am doing it because i love reading and it brings me joy. plus, who doesn’t love some easy escapism? same reason i love video games.

speaking of which, i gotta start a farm with some friends. there have been so many updates and i haven’t played the pc version of it in so long. maybe i’ll convince a few of them to let me stream it. that, and palworld. i’m just not sure when i should start streaming; it feels like i have so much left to do, but it also feels like i’m not doing anything at all. so i might have to try streaming for 3-4 hours on my days off, with or without friends. my problem when it comes to streaming is that i’m my own boss, so not following through with a schedule doesn’t really have any consequences. but i really gotta get that started, otherwise i feel like i’ll never get around to it. it certainly would be nice to eventually make some extra money off of it. thought i wanted to be a val streamer, but i shockingly haven’t even really touched the game since i moved into my new place.

izzy and i watched four movies in a day on friday: mr. and mrs. smith, bullet train, baby driver, and everything everywhere all at once. all of them were so good, although everything everywhere all at once was… interesting. like the whole overall message of it is great and everything, like we love old traditional parents learning how to accept the things they can’t control about their child, but like… the buttplugs. wow. what a scene. (and that is all i’ll say on that; if you know, you know.)

i’m working on a linktr.ee with all my currently active and soon-to-be active accounts, which includes tumblr, discord, snapchat, and twitch. i was thinking about making a patreon, but i feel like i should gather an audience before i attempt managing another account. i already hate social media as it is which is why i only have what i have… we’ll see where it goes.

anyway, it was a solid weekend. i’m still tired, but i did drink quite a bit at a party last night and now i’ve got five days of work ahead of me, and my coworkers alone make that exhausting. but i’ve got lots of reading and writing to do to keep myself relaxed in between moments of masking (totally gonna be the name of my autobiography), especially once the new bookclub pick arrives. i’ll try not to be too miserable by tuesday.

[kayliethelazy]

Trying to Pursue a Dream with ADHD

I have ideas that I’m working on right now that I just can’t get started on or finish due to something called Executive Dysfunction. I have ADHD, and executive dysfunction is constant for me, even if I want to do something, I will sit around waiting for my brain to allow me to accomplish tasks that most other people could just do without needing to spend a huge amount of energy to just get started. If I start something and hyperfixate on it. Throughout the creation process, I am fully aware that there will come a time where I will be physically unable to create anymore, no matter how much I love what I’m doing, no matter how much I love the content that I create and I’m genuinely heartbroken every time. I just have to keep creating on a semi-consistent schedule until I completely forget, and move onto something else. I wish I could be different. I wish I wasn’t affected like this, I wish I could be normal and pursue my dream of creating content for people to enjoy without limitation. I’ve seen the feedback on my videos, from friends, comments, from family, and when something does well, they tell me and I know for a fact that there are people that enjoyed some of my recent content. But you know what? I can’t bring myself to do more of that style right now because I feel a repulsion to even writing the script for my next destiny video. I have so much anxiety about it because I want to create so badly, it is literally all I want to do. I want to record voice overs, I want to write scripts, I want to edit and piece together the unique puzzles that are these videos but I just cannot bring myself to even start. I know that I can, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I can’t bring myself to get started or to finish projects that have been in the works for months. I have a destiny 1 video that should have been edited months ago. It’s still on my old computer. I have ideas and scripts that go unedited because my brain doesn’t let me finish them, even though those ideas are a struggle to find. I’ve contemplated quitting entirely. Just enjoying my life and enjoying the games that I play. But the reality is, I couldn’t do that, I love making content. It’s my passion. Even if no one watches. I cried when the Clara guide hit one thousand views. I was stunned, and wanted so badly to make more. I have another video for Star Rail that already has a finished script that I’ve been sitting on for a week. Even when I have a drive and deep desire to create my ADHD holds me hostage and will not let me do what I know I want to do. Despite all these feelings, I’m not going anywhere, I’m not stopping, I’m not giving up. Because I love what I do. Even if I’m working and can’t devote as much time to it, I will still create. Even if I have other responsibilities, I will find room to create. Like I said, it’s my passion and I could never let it go, all I wish is that I could act on my passion without being limited by the biological machine that is my brain. If you do enjoy what I make, thank you, you really do mean the world to me, every one of you. In short, fuck you ADHD. I’m tired, I’m frustrated with myself, and I’m going to figure this out, so I can pursue this silly little dream of mine.

[thedawningofthehour]

Do you have an entire plot for the story written out already? Because you update quite frequently but I can’t bring myself to continue some stories. Any tips?

It's not written out, but yes I know roughly what's going to happen and have the major climaxes plotted out. Though I'm sure more stuff will occur to me as I write and the whole thing will grow-that's how it always is.

So part of the reason the update 'schedule' for Book 1 was so insane was because I legit had like a third of the story written out before I even thought about posting it. I had almost all of Donnie's Table Content done and I had written up through the point where the fam finds Donnie's battle shell. (there will forever be a stutter in my mind at the beginning of ch 8 because that's where I stopped writing for a while to polish up the first few chapters and post) And I kept writing on even as I had several chapters ready to be posted because my brain was still thinking of stuff. I did run out of this buffer eventually-I'm trying to build it back up because I liked having several chapters written out at a time and able to move stuff around as needed. But those times where there were literally three or four days between chapters? Those chapters were already done. I was just trying to space them out.

Also, keep something in mind. I am a childless adult who is currently unemployed. I'm not in school. I'm not dating. I'm actually kind of agoraphobic and rarely leave my house. I really don't have much else to do. A lot of you seem to be high school or college students, and I'd wager that many of you have part-time jobs as well. You guys are busy. You do not have the time to write this much. That's not a moral failing, that's just life.

So I'm probably not the person to ask about powering through writing when you're not feeling it. I'm awful at that. I mean, you do have to do it to some extent when you're a writer, but I drag my feet so much. One thing I'd do though, is ask yourself where your problem is. Are you just getting bored after a certain amount of time? It's possible long-form just isn't your thing.

And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Some authors write twenty book series and keep revisiting their universe throughout their entire career. Some of them think up a story idea, bang out a novella or short story, and move onto the next one. If you find yourself dropping stories a lot, you might just be the latter. That's fine! Just know your limits. If you know the story will only hold your interest for a few chapters, maybe try limiting yourself to shorter fics or oneshots. Or if you have an idea that would work way better long-form, maybe collab with another author or get a beta reader? I've never done either, but they seem to help a lot of authors get their wheel unstuck when it's down in a hole.

Another thing that I do-I don't post every story idea I have. I have many, many fragments of stories in my Google Docs that I began, wrote a few thousand words, and got bored with. That is how doth started. I had the idea of Donnie being a little shit to Draxum while in a very obvious "I'm fucked" position and just started writing that for fun. I was not planning on posting it. It was only after I kept writing and more and more ideas occurred to me that I realized I was onto something. This has generally been what's happened for most of my fics. Not every idea you have needs to be a full-fledged story. It is absolutely fine to get bored with a concept and leave it in your Docs folder. It's like pruning a tree-sometimes you need to cut away the unhealthy, broken branches in order for the good stuff to grow.

[rjthirsty]

Ikemen Princess Prologue

Based off the otome game Ikemen Prince, I've created an AU where the princes are (mostly) female, and MC is male. Several character names have been changed to suit their new gender (notes will be provided), and lore has been altered to work with the new setting and my accompanying headcanons.

Words: 2k Tags: AU with Gender Changes, My First Long Fic, Chaptered, Scheduled Release A/N: You can find this and other chapters located on my ao3 account or on the Ikemen Princess Masterlist on my tumblr blog.

Chapter Nine: The King and the Rose

“Thanks, but no thanks!” I quickly responded to Nokto’s proposal. I wasn’t really interested in being seduced by anyone, let alone a princess who is aiming to be named Queen of Rhodolite.

“Ugh, I can’t listen to another word of this!” Yves shouted. “Seduce him? Seriously, Nokto, do you have any pride or even self-awareness of your position as a princess?”

Thanks, Yves… I think. But I’m not sure you’re on my side for the right reasons here…

“If that’s how you feel, do me a favor and don’t make any moves on him.” Nokto gave Yves a meaningful look, unperturbed by his admonishment.

“And why should I have to listen to anything you have to say?” The prince huffed. I was beginning to suspect that Yves just took the opposing position to whatever Nokto said, and Nokto was aware how easily she could maneuver him with that.

“What’s that, Yves?” Jean joined in. “You’re interested in seducing him after all? You’re always so mercurial, you are.”

I was still grappling with the enormity of what I’d agreed to, and it seemed surreal to hear them talk about it so flippantly. I just stared at the three.

Is this how royalty is? Or is it because they’re related?

Whatever the case was, I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I thought running a country was a big deal, and here they were joking about it and how to “win” me over to choose them.

“He may be a commoner, but he’s still Belle. I need him to recognize that there’s no one more suited to the throne than I am.” Yves announced, answering Jean’s teasing with honesty.

“Yes, yes, you’re quite right,” Jean nodded. “Totally agree.”

“Uh–” I raised my hand to bring attention to myself. “There are plenty of other ways to do that besides attempting to seduce me.”

“Hey, could you all stop already?” The others fell silent as Lucinda stood up from her chair. “He’s right here, you’re making him uncomfortable.”

The three looked at Lucinda, and so did I. She seemed to be the only one in the room actually paying attention to me rather than talking about me. She moved next to me and I realized how tall she actually was now that we were standing face to face. “It was… Emmit, right?”

I gave a small nod. Her presence was kind of intimidating and I fought to not take half a step backwards.

“If you have any problems, you come see me, yeah?” She offered with concern etched on her face.

“Oh. Thank you very much, Princess Lucinda.”

“Ehh, don’t do that.” She grimaced and shook her head. “Just call me Lucy.”

“I don’t think–” I started, but Lucinda interrupted me.

“You called Leanne by her name, right?” She threw the question at me with a nod of her head in Leanne’s direction. I glanced over at the other woman still sitting at the table. “I don’t really like the whole ‘princess’ thing.”

My eyes moved back to meet Lucinda’s, they were warm and welcoming, offering me to feel at ease around her. She may be intimidating on her own, but everything she has said has been really comforting. “Well, okay then. Lucy it is.”

She smiled in response and made an appreciative noise, “Mmm.”

I feel like I just gained a protector. Or a big sister.

“Hang on,” Yves voice cut through that nice, comfortable feeling I was enjoying. “Aren’t you just seducing him too, now?”

“Naw, not our Lucy. She’s just a natural flirt, that’s all.” Jean grinned, pulling a lollipop out of her pocket. “But the rest of you oughta put your heart into it. Lucy will win Emmit over before you all get the chance, otherwise.” She popped the candy into her mouth.

“You make it sound like it has nothing to do with you, Jean.” Leanne glanced at the other woman.

“It doesn’t. I couldn’t give a crap about the throne.”

I was not expecting that.

“Well, I do care about the throne, so as a sign of how closely we’ll soon be acquainted, you can just call me Nokto.”

“I don’t approve of any of this! Make sure you call me Your Highness.” Yves made his displeasure known. And loudly.

“I’m not a fan of formal titles. You can call me whatever you like.” Jean shifted the lollipop’s position in her mouth with her tongue, a clicking sounded as the sugar tapped against her teeth. I was transfixed at the way the stick rolled across her lips, it was oddly seductive and I averted my gaze, feeling like I just witnessed something I shouldn’t.

I cleared my throat. “Ahem. Okay. Thank you, all of you. So, Nokto and Jean it is.”

“This is stupid.” Leni got up from her chair. She had been so quiet I actually forgot she was even here, this was the first thing she said since she introduced herself.

“Leni, you don’t have to be so cold all the time. You’ll end up with no friends, you know!” Yves was on to the next person he was scolding.

I think Yves might be a mother hen to his sisters.

“I never had any to begin with. And I don’t need them.” Leni retorted emotionlessly, avoiding everyone's gaze with her eyes downcast.

“There you go again, so determined to rush off all by yourself and– Wait! Where are you going, Leni!”

“Back to my room.”

“Leni…” Her twin’s voice caused her to stop, though she didn’t turn to look back at the group. “Aren’t you interested in the throne?”

“...That’s not even worth answering.” With that she quietly slipped out of the room.

“Really, that girl…” Yves gave a sigh.

“So, some of you really want to hold the throne, and some of you aren’t interested at all.” I hadn’t meant to say it outloud, but I did.

“We may be related, but we all have different mothers, and we’re all very different ourselves.” Leanne answered.

I turned to meet that golden-amber gaze head-on. “What about you, then? Do you or don’t you want to be queen?”

I don’t feel I really got to hear Leanne’s opinion this entire discussion. She was just watching, like an outsider looking in on the rest of the group.

Instead of a smirk like she had been showing me all day, she gave a smile more regal than I was expecting and I was almost left breathless in its wake. “I want you to decide on your own whether I have what it takes to be queen.”

I nodded and whispered “Okay.”

Leanne could really turn on the charm when she wanted to.

I was just realizing how many layers each of these men and women had, even the ones that weren’t looking to be crowned the next ruler for Rhodolite. My thoughts were whirling as I tried to get an idea of just who everyone really was. A sharp clap cut through my thoughts, bringing everyone’s attention to Suriyel.

“I apologize for interrupting your pleasant chat, but I still need to show Belle around, so perhaps we could call it a day.”

Everyone essentially gave a nod or agreed to the suggestion, and Suriyel led me out of the room. We made our way through countless other hallways, all of them looking similar in fashion to the point I was lost by the time we reached our next destination. Soon we were at another grand room, even more opulent than anything I had seen so far. Plush red carpet ran down the center of the room, leading all the way to the lavish throne that sat at the far end.

I was hesitant to even enter the throne room, it felt almost taboo for someone of my standing to get to walk through those doors. I had felt out of place since I first entered the palace, but now that I was about to visit the throne room where the king had held audiences with other foreign dignitaries… It didn’t matter if I was Belle or not, this was a sacred place where few were permitted and I felt overwhelmed at the implications that I’d be standing in there.

After only a few moments to gather my nerves and courage, I quietly followed Suriyel into the room. She stopped just before the throne and turned to face me again. My eyes wandered to the portraits of the previous kings and queens of Rhodolite lining the walls, and before making their way back to Suriyel I spotted a pedestal next to the throne. Atop it sat a single rose, sealed away inside a glass dome.

“What’s the rose for?”

“It is traditional for a single rose to be prepared when His Majesty The King passes away. And it is tradition that the next ruler must be chosen by the time the last petal falls.” Suriyel folded her hands together, watching me.

“So I have a time limit.” I eyed the flower curiously.

“That is correct. The rose is of a unique variety, and it will continue to bloom for approximately one month.”

“Month?! You said month, right?” My eyes flashed to her.

“I did.” She inclined her head. “Is that a problem?”

“What– No. Of course not. No, no, it’s fine.”

That’s eight members of the royal family I have to get to know in 30 days. So we’re talking 3 days with each of them… and I’m sure I could close the bookstore early so I have more time…

“All other matters related to the position of Belle are recorded in this covenant.” With a snap of her fingers, several servants appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

This was just like in the bookstore! Do they just follow you around and wait for you to do that?

I watched in disbelief as the servants placed a table in front of me, piling it high with pages scrawled with impossibly tiny text. Then they exited as quickly as they had arrived and I was left staring at the ‘covenant’ sitting between Suriyel and myself.

“Please tell me you don’t expect me to read ALL of this right now?” I leafed through the papers, trying to count how many there were, but a glance at Suriyel made my hand freeze in place.

You’re completely serious.

“I’m surprised to hear you state the obvious as if it were a question.”

I stopped counting and slowly brought my hand back to my side, trying to keep the exasperated and exhausted sigh that was building up from escaping.

“Once you have read the covenant in its entirety, please sign your name here.” Suriyel tapped the papers to indicate where my signature would be required.

“... I feel like I’m about to sign my soul away to the devil here.”

[keefwho]

April 02 - 2023

8:55 AM

This is probably going to sound really stupid but I don’t feel comfortable jerking off to someone if I think they wouldn’t like it. It makes me feel dirty and disrespectful. I’ve been feeling kinda like that lately because I can’t be sure the person I do it to is receptive of it. 

Its such a silly thing to bring up but it is relevant to how I feel lately. This whole side of me is in turmoil.  

11:02 PM

I have a problem where I struggle to believe and accept that other people are there for me. I’m sure I’ve covered this before here. But I have a strong desire to be able to accept what I have. I have friends that care about me. They think about me. I have some really nice things going on right now. Sometimes it’s obvious but other times I’m hindered by my own self view. It stops me from really taking in whats going on. Almost like some kind of joke is being played on me and the truth that I’m not actually appreciated could come out any day now. 

Being re-assured intentionally or otherwise helps but I don’t want to RELY on that re-assurance. But also maybe it’s normal to need that re-assurance from time to time. How else is anyone supposed to know how much they are truly cared for if they aren’t told? People also have different languages for this kind of thing. Love language. If you don’t know the language someone is using then you’ll just miss it. Maybe I’m missing a lot. 

Im also stuck in the past remembering too much the kind of dynamics I used to be in. Sometimes I think thats what I should be aiming for. Something familiar. But I need to move on and be more present to what is happening now. New things can be scary but are also exciting. I’d like to let go of my past without forgetting it. 

I have some basic things I want to practice

Always try new things and break my schedule a little Explore and express myself Practice true committed focus on things

These few things I know make a huge difference in my daily life if I remember to exercise all of them. Focusing is by far the hardest but also seems to have the most payoff. 

[my-life-literally]

I’m not mad. I’m pissed.

No one is here right now. No one is watching.

When no one is watching, I dream of a love made up of tiny things.

I dream of chopping garlic on a wooden cutting board. I hear the sound of boiling water.

When no one is watching, I dream of someone outside of work who knows my travel schedule.

I exclude my dad and brother from the following for the sole reason that I am related to them. And therefore see them as human.

I used to feel so interested in a man’s life. And his schedule. And his cutting boards. Now I don’t know if I can bring myself to care. I don’t care about their thoughts. I don’t care about how their ex/mom/second grade teacher/baby boomers/the guy who cut them off on the highway hurt them. I don’t care about their stupid crypto dreams. I don’t care about their stupid plans for early retirement. I don’t care about what dumb shit-for-brains man inspired them and the other feeble minded dickheads they know. I don’t care that men these day’s don’t have a public role model. I don’t care about their day, or what watch they want. Or how flannel has featured as the co-star in their dumb lives. I don’t care about what they know about car maintenance, or how much physically stronger men are on average because of women. Or how men have more life experience managing testosterone, a key reason why transwomen shouldn’t compete in professional women’s wrestling. Don’t worry ladies, they’re just looking out for our interests. Or how men are “fixers,” why don’t you fix your fucking attitude you magnificent prick. I don’t want to hear about how much they love their mother. I don’t want to hear how much they hate their mother. I don’t want to hear about how this guy they know is a “good guy.” I don’t want to hear their thoughts on what happens when you die. Or their stupid philosophies on a life well-lived. Or how much they hate dating. Or how much dating is easier for women. Or their half-baked thoughts on anti-vaxers; They’re white supremacists Kyle - and so are you, you fucking dickhead. I don’t want to hear about their irrational moods, or the dumb fucking things that make them happy, or how they went out of their empty-headed way to drive their buddies from one dumb-fucking point A to dumb-fucking point B. Or how they were raised by strong women. Or what makes them feel bad, or sad, or mad or glad. Or where The Art of War ends and their personality begins. I just don’t even care. 

I can’t even imagine talking to one. If I get asked, “have you ever been in a real fight?” one more fucking time ... I am going to set fire to the next Jiu Jitsu studio I see. 

Sir, I am a Woman of colour, living in a white-male centred, Aglo-Saxon apocalyptic fantasy world, have I been in a real fight- have you?

When no one is watching. I am a full person. I fear. I worry. I move. I am still. 

When no one is watching, I can slip into day’s of depression. I fold laundry and then fold in on myself. 

I lay in a ball feeling brown and guilty. Thinking tomorrow will be a better day: I will get up early, I will apply to that job. I will work on that report. 

When I am busier, I am happier. 

These past three days were hard. I mean like really hard. 

Older women are not helpful to talk to either. They are grumpy. I hate to say it. And they think the solution to the existence of having no-problems, is a husband, or random sex. Each articulating her idea of healing or wholeness through their favourite patriarchal lens. They say, “And have you thought about a husband?” “Why don’t you look for a man?” “You’re so very sensitive.” “Take this as an experience in life.” “I thought you would be farther along by now.” “You didn’t have sex yet? Well that’s where you went wrong,” followed by laughter. “I wanted to tell you he wasn’t good, but I didn’t know how to say it.” So let me get this straight: it was easier to say, “he loves you, I can feel it in my body, in my bones honey. Just take a chance. See him as a human. Life is about experiences and taking chances. And learning.” 

Well I don’t want to have fucking experiences. I want to buy a fucking house and die an inaccessible, incomprehensible millionaire. You don’t know the first fucking thing about me. 

“It hurts me that you’re still hurting.” Fuck off. No it doesn’t. And not a shred of curiosity. Just bullshit for days. They’re just like men actually. They’re just the men in their heads talking to each other. And then look over at me with lazy grins of people who mistake possession of horrendous levels of stupidity with Crown Chakra wisdom. And here’s a fun fact: If you have to utter the words that you have ancient womanly wisdom or insight, you don’t. If you try to convince me that when you’ll die you’ll come back to haunt me as a cat, or you and I will connect on a cosmic plain to complete our intergalactic work, I promise you, we won’t. 

I have seen this trick. Older women, seeing someone who is younger, and not loving them, but ready to try and mold and shape a psyche so it looks like theirs. “Look lady, I don’t see spending may days arguing about a 30/70 split over domestic labour in alignment with my life path. So unless you are curious about how a single male mind managed to render Middle Earth as the ultimate supporting character, and who the hell did his laundry, though I think we all know - then fuck off.” Basically, the birds of Middle Earth (who were born on the winds of unpaid labour of a woman so this man could be gifted time to have a think) bring me more fucking peace than trying to look a fucking man in the eye. 

I am conva-fucking-lescing. At least one of you was a nurse. And at one time both of you had husbands whose delicates you washed, hung and folded. Do you not recognize rest when you fucking see it? Or is that special laser-beam insight reserved for men? 

When no one is watching. I drive for miles. I stop in the middle of the sidewalk to re-tie shoe laces. I look at the clock. I boil eggs. I stretch. Spread butter. Wash berries. I watch my hair grow. I chop wood and carry water.

When no one is watching. I still smile at men. I smile at the back of their heads. We all need someone to love.

[luxsocialite]

Ways to reset for the new year!

Hello everyone!

2022 is just around the corner (thank God) and I want all of us to have very fun, happy, healthy and productive year.

So here are 10 ways we can reset and refresh for the new year:

1. Plan your year:

Start with a fresh notebook, something cute that you would love to write in all the time, and a pen.

First: design your life. What do you want your life to look like in 5 years, 10 years? What material things do you have? How much money are you making? Where are you living? How do you spend your free time? What are your hobbies? Where are you vacationing?

This video is amazing at helping you get started!

Also included in this is vision boarding especially if your a visual person. Make a collage of pictures of things you want to happen, put it as your phone/computer bg or do it on paper and put it where you will constantly see it.

2. Get your sleep schedule together

I am tired! All the time and it’s because my sleep schedule is trash lol. Definitely having a bedtime routine and sleep schedule will help with my mood levels and emotions.

Start by not using your phone in your bed because then you connect staying awake on the phone with your bed and then you’ll never sleep. Also, limit screen time after a certain time. Blue lights really aren’t conducive for sleep.

Start a night time routine. Make a sleep playlist, spray lavender spray on your pillow. Make sleeping interesting

3. Declutter

Leave everything that you don’t want following you into the new year behind. This includes clothes you haven’t worn all year, people you no longer want to associate with, texts, emails and apps you can’t be bothered with, old make up and honestly just things that don’t bring you joy (I’m in my Marie Condo era).

4. Self reflect

Going off of point one. Really ask yourself what you want from life and how you are going to get there. Recognize your coping mechanism and toxic traits, what can help you become a better you.

Therapy is great for this. I am a proponent for everyone going to therapy and working out everything with a neutral third party.

5. Start investing … in yourself

Look, I’m not about to tell you to start putting your money in the stock market because Lord knows I know nothing about stocks. But we should at least be putting any kind of money away for an emergency fund even if its $5 a month.

If you can put money in a retirement fund, the earlier you can, the better.

And not just money you need to invest. Time, emotion, etc.

Is there a business you want to start? Girl, it’s time to invest.

Beauty treatments you want? Invest

Designer items? Car? House? Relationship? Career? Experiences? It’s time to start investing in yourself

6. Show gratitude

I think it’s important to focus on the positive way more than the negative. I give myself at least 5-10 minutes a day to focus on the negativity of the day before moving on and pushing it out of my head.

I also think it’s important to write down or at least think about what I’m grateful for/what made me happy everyday.

7. Socialize

Make some time for the important people in your life. I’m not the best at texting my friends all the time. I’m a very low maintenance friend, but I do try to reach out every once and a while and keep the connection alive. We are social creatures, we are made to connect with other people.

And not just your friends, try to connect with as many people as you can. Network, be nice, you never know how that person could help you or change your life later.

8. Stop comparing yourself to others

I know this day in age, it seems like everyone is “successful” but the truth is we do not know what is going on behind closed doors or what that person had to do to get to where they are. Don’t compare yourself to others. Everyone’s timeline is different and it’s never too late.

Compare yourself to yourself. Ask yourself what you can do to become the best version of you and what you can do to have the life you want, not the life you see other people with.

9. Do more things you enjoy

If the year permits, I definitely want to travel more. Life is too short to not do things that will make me happy. I want to experience anything and everything I can, while I can still do it. That means making time and spending money on experiences.

10. Give yourself a break

Give yourself some grace. You are only human. You cannot do everything and you’re not a bad person for achieving everything in a certain timeline.

Be nice to yourself, say affirmations, build your confidence, get to know yourself, perhaps even date yourself …

And make sure you take care yourself, eat right, drink water, move your body. Don’t push yourself too hard

And remember to take a breath and live in the moment.

Happy new year!

[worldwithoutmiracles]

ADHD Coping Strategies

these are the things that have actually genuinely worked for me. I’m not guaranteeing they will work for you (I hope they do!) but I am guaranteeing I will not put “buy a planner” on this list.

okay, I know I said no planner talk, but I am religious about my phone calendar app. I put everything in there the second it occurs to me - appointments, sure, but also vague things like “call Grandma” or “post office?”. seeing it on a calendar instead of a list works better for my brain. whenever something I need to take care of within x amount of time occurs to me, it gets written down. I have stopped mid-sentence to pull out my phone and schedule “shower” for the next day (can you believe it took 28 years to get diagnosed lol). the key is not what tool you use, it’s finding one that is convenient, and then not being ashamed to use it (and never telling yourself “oh, I’ll remember without writing it down”)

let one task bleed into another, and try to separate your body from your brain. this one is huge for me, and might be tough to describe. basically, when I am avoiding a task and stuck in a phone scroll loop, I cannot get my brain to switch from Task A to Task B - it just won’t happen. so I try to bypass the switch altogether. I try not to consciously think of “starting” anything, and I bring Task A with me as I move a little. so, I’m sitting around rewatching a YouTube video, avoiding a shower (you know the mood). without thinking about the shower, I will continue to watch YouTube, but just stand up. basically, I don’t tell myself “okay, I’m stopping now” and “okay, time to start!” I just sort of...blend the two together. ease the transition. I’m still scrolling through twitter, but I move from the couch to the floor to prepare to work out. the TV show is on and I’m still watching as I move toward the kitchen. without me noticing, Task B has started, and with the worst behind me, I can finish doing it. (I can also sometimes just make my body do things physically without engaging my mind, but this might be an acquired skill and doesn’t work every day. mentally, I’m still in bed, but physically I’m now standing in the bathroom, huh weird, better start getting ready for the day.)

care about how you feel as much as you care about what you do. due to low self-esteem, I seem to think it’s okay for me to spend literal DAYS in agony because I can’t do a 15 minute task. when you think about it, it’s such a cruel and narrow way to live. why am I okay with feeling afraid and guilty all day, but I’m not okay with just giving myself permission to put this task off until tomorrow (or even just sitting down and doing it now, so I can feel happy and proud for the rest of the day)? why do I see my life as just an endless series of to-do lists instead of an experience to be lived with joy and by my own values?

separate moral judgements from your actions. this is a HUGE thing that came up for me in therapy. I am always judging myself as a good or bad person based on, like, productivity and my to-do list? which is so stupid. and I know, consciously, it is stupid. but I also, unconsciously, think about myself in these terms ALL THE TIME. my therapist started pointing out every time I used “should” or “supposed to” when I spoke, and it was almost every sentence. I’m always acting like I’m performing for some moral authority, like I’m being graded (burnt out gifted kids who were raised Catholic say ‘heyyy’). you are a good person. you need to find a way to make yourself believe that without an outside authority.

subdivide the day into smaller chunks. if I meant to get out of bed and run errands at 8 AM, and it’s now 1 PM and I’m stuck in a shame spiral and haven’t left my bed, it’s easy for me to just write the day off as fucked and give up. it’s really, really powerful if you can stop measuring time in units as large as a day. generally, I like to think of the day as split up into 4 segments. now, if I waste the morning and afternoon, that’s okay! I can turn the day around now and decide to make the 3rd or 4th part of the day better. shower at 3 PM and put on clean clothes like you just woke up. run errands at 7 PM if the store is still open. write the email at 2 AM (and schedule it to be sent at a normal time - shhh night email is my little secret). just begin again. you can always begin again, any time.

please, for the love of god, find ways to be nice to yourself, to consider the best possible scenario, to forgive yourself, to believe, truly, that you don’t deserve to be sad and scared and stressed all of the time. your life should not be something you feel you are avoiding or missing out on. please imagine a better life for yourself, and take the time to remind yourself that you deserve goodness and kindness and grace, especially from yourself. be gentle.

medication and therapy. I know this isn’t feasible for a lot of people - I couldn’t afford it for a decade. but if you have the means and have just been putting it off because “it’s not that bad”, please go. I thought I was doing “fine” because I had been worse. meanwhile, I had stopped even imagining my life could be better. turns out my “fine” was leagues below where I deserved to be and how I could feel about myself.

becoming aware of the way I think about myself has been such a powerful tool for managing my symptoms over the last few years. it often feels like my lack of productivity makes me feel bad, but the reality is my symptoms worsen when I already have something I feel fearful, anxious, or ashamed of, so thinking about the way I think has helped me tremendously.

sorry I can only write long posts. 

[shorkbrian]

I swear I ain’t in it for the money, but I can’t stop thinking about sugar daddy shoto. Maybe he sweeps a cute little college kid or barista of their feet, just something fun and casual. But this man starts falling harder, needing a way to lock them down to him. Money isn’t quite cutting it anymore, so he decides fucking a baby into her would do the trick. Shoto would push her down into the mattress, large frame twisting her into a sweet mating press. This way they could stay together forever and Shoto would have absolutely no problem providing for his sweet family <3

but fr tho I feel like Shouto is NOT the type for kids.

Mans will tolerate them when they babble or wave at him, but he very actively Does Not Want them.

Always uses condoms, and even though he’ll threaten not to, it’s never a legit thought in his mind to cum inside. Shouto doesn’t want to be a dad.

-----

You’ll be sittin on a park bench, fading sunset dark and pretty in front of you yet all you can do is cry. There’s not really any people around so it’s not like you’re bothering anyone - you hadn’t wanted to cry in your shabby apartment (half the cause of your worries) just in case you received a noise complaint.

“Are you alright?”

A somber, smooth voice is heard. You’re swiping at your tears quickly as you look up, trying to laugh off your state of distress. “Oh, haha, yeah I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” It’s hard to smile with your puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

The man in front of you frowns, hands in his coat pockets, scarf draped around his neck. “You don’t look fine. Mind if I sit?”

He’s already claiming the spot next to you on the bench before you can say a word, turning to you with a passive expression. “Why are you crying?”

And that’s all it takes to have you breaking down all over again, tears streaming down your face. Just one person offering to listen to the heavy burden you have to bear.

‘’M sor-sorry...” You sob, wiping at your eyes with frigid fingers, successful in doing nothing more but smearing tears around your face.

“Here.” The man’s taking off his scarf, gloved hands offering it you.

“I ca-can’t use your sc-scarf sir.” But he’s insistent, pressing it into your hands up by your face.

“I’ll just get another one. Keep it, you’re in need of it more than I am.”

The kindness makes another fresh bout of tears roll down your cheeks, but this time you're able to dab them away with soft fabric as you sniffle.

It takes a moment for you to calm yourself. When you do, you can finally engage in conversation with the man.

You tell him about your job hours getting cut, how you’ve been turned down or ignored by every single place you’ve applied at for a second job. How you’re barely affording to wash your clothes - you have to hang them or drape them across things in your apartment because you don’t have the money to pay for a dryer cycle.

And to top it all off, you’re still short on rent, despite how you scrimped and saved and even forced yourself not to buy groceries this week - you’ve gone hungry for the past three days.

“You haven’t eaten?”

You glance up at the man and his incredulous expression, shaking your head. “I’ve been trying to save money, I thought I could afford my rent if-”

“What kind of food do you like?” The man is pulling out his phone, swiping and tapping immediately. 

“Thank you, but I’m not-” looking for charity is what you want to say. Plus, you shouldn’t accept favors from strange men.

But the handsome man is waving you silent. “I’m cold, plus I’d like to grab a bite to eat before I head home. I don’t like eating alone though, you’d honestly be doing me a favor.”

You take a moment to process. Is he telling the truth? He sounds like an honest guy.

“Seems like the only place open around here is “Joe’s 24 hour Diner”.... You mind burgers?”

So that's how you end up in a booth opposite the man (”Shouto” he had told you as you both headed to the diner), munching away at warm food. It tastes so good, you hardly have time to worry about the man watching you as he eats.

You’d been shocked at his looks the moment you’d seen him in the light of the diner. Pretty two-toned hair, different colored eyes, perfect skin, expensive clothes. Why was he even talking to you? It’s obvious the two of you led very different lives.

“How does everything taste?”

“Delicious.” Is your response, and Shouto seems pleased, nodding before taking another bite of his meal.

Maybe it’s stupid... but you feel weirdly safe with this man. He doesn’t seem to bear any ill-intent towards you, nor has he made any comments about your body or let his hands or eyes stray. He seems like a gentleman.

Conversation flows easily between the two of you, even sharing a few chuckles at times. He’s some fancy rich businessman, you learn, and you share about your own life, laughing at the comparisons. Shouto can’t fathom growing up in a house with less than five bedrooms and a personal servant.

He asks for your number, and you’re hesitant in giving it - he surely can’t be interested in you? But he seems so sincere, it’s hard to say no.

When the two of you part ways, Shouto gives you a wave, “Hope to see you again soon, and under better circumstances.”

“You too! And sorry for being such a mess and stopping your walk-”

Shouto shrugs, cheeks beginning to pink from the cold air as you two stand outside the diner. “You needed help. I like to assist.”

-----

The next morning you wake to find an atrociously large sum deposited in your Venmo account by none other than a Shouto Todoroki.

Immediately, you’re calling him. “It’s too much, we just met. How can you give away that much money to some low-life?”

You hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. “You’re obviously struggling. I was wondering what your hours are this week, perhaps we could talk about this over dinner? Or lunch, if that fits better with your schedule. I’m flexible.”

It’s a few days later, days spent questioning yourself, questioning his intentions, before you see him again, both of you deciding to meet for lunch to further discuss... whatever had just happened.

“Was what I gave you adequate to cover your rent?” Are the first words out of Shouto’s mouth after you greet each other.

“Yeah, more than enough-” You squirm. “But I need to ask.... why?”

“Why?”

“Why me.” 

“Oh.” Shouto’s expression clears. “That’s easy. I told you a few days ago - I like to assist. I’m quite lonely, and it feels nice to use my money on someone other than myself. I think providing for someone brings me... I wouldn’t quite say joy, but... contentment.”

You contemplate his answer for a moment. 

“Well... you saved me with my rent, I don’t really know how to thank you.”

The man leans forward. “Well.... I know it might be a bit sudden, but how would you feel accepting me as a.... benefactor of sorts?”

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Is your immediate, blurted response. You want to slap yourself for speaking before you have the chance to think about your words, but luckily Shouto just lets out a light laugh.

“If you’d like to call it that. I’m willing to provide financial assistance for you, in exchange for companionship, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your face heats up as you drop your eyes, fidgeting nervously in your seat. “I don’t feel comfortable with a... a sexual relationshi-”

“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Shouto cuts you off before you can continue. “I wasn’t trying to insinuate a contract of that nature. I’m thinking more along the lines of accompanying me at meals, sharing experiences with me, providing company and friendship to a lonely man. If it seems that we’d like to progress further than that after we get to know each other, well, that will be addressed then. For now-” Shouto meets your eye, dipping his head a smidgeon so he can look at you directly. “All I ask for is a simple, non-intimate bond between two people.”

This is crazy.

And yet you accept.

The situation may be wild, and completely absurd, but you’d be a fool not to say yes.

Shouto is charming and handsome, respectful, courteous - you could go on and on about his positive qualities. He just seems like a sad, lonesome man swallowed by work and responsibilities, too stressed and busy to put the effort into making friends the conventional way. 

-----

Months pass by.

You’re eating at every meal, sated and never going hungry. You’re able to move into a new place, one that doesn’t smell like cigarettes and sits right next to a railroad.

Clothes aren’t a worry anymore, you have your own washer and dryer in your new apartment (Shouto offered to buy you a house, or a penthouse at the least, but you couldn’t justify it to yourself). You’re able to afford new things, and pretty dresses, shoes that are comfortable and fashionable and that fit.

You no longer have to wear clothes down until they have holes in them. You’re able to go to the doctor’s when you feel sick, able to pay for health insurance.

Life is good.

Shouto is a personable man, serious, but he can be rather funny and even crude at times.

The doubt and thoughts of “Why is he doing this for me?” and “I’m not good enough for this.” plague you, but Shouto always seems to catch on, reassuring you that you’re exactly what he needs - a friend.

And you’re more than happy to be that.

You think sometimes, that even if he wasn’t paying you, you’d still like to be friends with Shouto Todoroki.

Until he starts acting weird.

“You should just stay at my place. I have more than enough room,, it’d be easier for both our schedules. We’d get to see each other more often.”

“Uhm...” You don’t really know what to say. You like your freedom, and having your own place where you can walk around in your (expensive) underwear without being bothered.

“I think it’d be nice, don’t you? We could have breakfast every morning, you wouldn’t have to worry about traveling to and fro, we could spend more time together. We don’t see each other nearly enough.”

He’s pushing, insistent. How are you supposed to tell him no? He’s paying for your entire life. Plus, it wouldn’t be that bad to actually live with him. Shouto’s an amicable man.

So you move in.

“I bought you a few things, they’re on your bed.” 

Shouto’s striding into the kitchen where you’re making coffee, buttoning up his shirt as he comes closer. You’ve found that the man likes to sleep in nothing but boxers, shrieking and flushing an embarrassing shade the first time he’d come to wake you up with a sweet “welcome” breakfast in bed.

It’s taken a while to adjust, but you finally feel that you’re fully settled in.

“Oh, you really don’t ha-”

“I wanted to. I went through your closet - your clothes are nice, but your underwear seemed to be lacking.” He’s so matter-of-fact.

All you can do is stare at the back of his head.

“Could you pass me a spoon please?”

-----

Shouto had splurged on expensive, fancy lingerie. 

At least eight different sets were laid out on your bed. It was overwhelming. It also felt.... a bit intrusive? They were all in your size, in a complementary color for your skin tone. 

Weird.

Not as weird as the onset of Shouto’s casual touches.

You’d be reading, or drinking tea and watching cars race by on the street so far below, and Shouto would come up behind you, caress your sides before intertwining his fingers with yours on one hand. He did it as if it was a normal thing, but it felt anything but normal.

Or you’d be on the couch together, and Shouto would shuffle closer until his large body was pressed to yours, almost curled around you. The faux-cuddling was a bit more off putting. How do you tell him no?

The touches became more and more intimate, Shouto’s gifts more and more frequent until you weren’t even spending a penny, the man taking care of everything.

The arrangement was beginning to make you uncomfortable.

Shouto’s bi-colored eyes seemed to always be on you, tracing the shape of your body, watching you move, or breath, or sit. It was distracting, and you felt bad for feeling this way towards the man who’d pulled you out of poverty, but it was so unnerving.

He seemed to notice.

“You’ve been so stressed these past few days. Is something wrong?” Shouto’s rubbing a hand into your shoulder, hovering over you at the dinner table.

“No?” Is all you can manage, wiping your hands on your napkin as you finish your food.

Shouto frowns. With a sigh, his hand drops from your shoulder and the man leaves your side, heads toward the kitchen.

You clear your plate from the table, following after him so you can wash it and put it in the dishwasher before you head off to get ready for bed. 

But Shouto is rummaging in a cupboard, pulling down two wine glasses to accompany the bottle of wine that’s standing proud on the island.  It’s your favorite, a sweet wine that Shouto knows you like, always brings it out when he decides to drink whisky or bourbon after dinner.

He pops the cork and pours you a glass while you finish with your dishes, handing you the glass when you turn away from the sink, pressing it into your hands. “Let’s relax a little bit, it’ll be good for both of us.”

You’re fine with that, knowing that a little wine won’t hurt you, especially when it’s of such fine quality. You’d never dreamed that you’d be able to taste such richness in your lifetime, spend frivolous amounts of money on wine and fine eateries. Yet here you are.

Shouto pours himself a glass, barely a sip filling the bottom. The man raises it to his lips and takes a swig, grimacing a bit in his flat, unexpressive way. You giggle a little.

“Too sweet?’

The man nods, setting the glass back down. “I’m not entirely sure how you can stand to stomach it. But if it makes you happy-” He shrugs, before pulling on of the bar-stools out from under the island so he can sit facing you, long legs stretching out before him.

You look at him, and he looks at you, and then you take another sip of wine to avoid the awkwardness.

“You’re distancing yourself from me.”

The accusation is quiet, Shouto’s eyes focused on your fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass.

He’s always been straightforward with his words. “Is there a reason you keep drawing away?”

The wine disappears from your glass, sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You fill your glass again before speaking, struggling to find the right words without upsetting your... benefactor.

“Well, Shouto... I don’t really know how to...” You trail off, hoping Shouto will say something, change the subject, say it’s alright and move on to something else.

But the man stays silent, eyes appraising you.

Taking a deep breath, and another gulp of sweetness, you try again.

“Sometimes the closeness... like, physical closeness? Makes me, well, uncomfortable.”

Hopefully, that would satisfy his curiosity for now. That wasn’t the only reason you’d been avoiding Shouto seeming distant, but you didn’t think sharing the others would result in anything good.

Said man accepted your response, dropping his eyes to his lap as he mulled it over. More wine was consumed, glass re-filled. You felt nervous.

“You’re saying that my touch isn’t something you’d prefer.”

Biting your lip, you soften at his confused expression, at the hint of sadness swimming behind his eyes. “Kind of. I don’t mind you Shouto, you’re really kind, and you’re good company, and a wonderful friend. I just don’t think the.... the intimacy is for me.”

Shouto raises his head, stares at you with those pretty eyes, lips parted as he comes to terms with your words. 

“It sounds like you don’t trust me. I would never hurt you, you know this.”

You scramble to assure him. “I do! I do trust you, and I know you wouldn’t.” (at least you hoped) “But I guess I just... Coming into this agreement I wasn’t ready for that type of... thing. I don’t know if I ever will be.”

The man rises, shakes his head as he steps closer to you. “Don’t worry, I remember our first conversation about that aspect. I see that for you, that type of relationship would only begin after you really cared for the other person, trusted and wanted to see them happy, am I correct?”

“Oh, Shouto-” You rush. “No, I care for you, and I trust you, and of course I want to see you happy. I think it’s just, y’know, my last relationship like that went really bad, and it sucked. I don’t want to go through that again.”

Shouto nods, understanding. “I see. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me then.”

A smile crosses your face, and you feel relived that he accepted your rejection with grace and understanding instead of violence or anger. “Thank you, it means a lot to me.”

The mood of the room shifted, from tense and uncomfortable, to easy and light, and you poured another glass of wine, laughing a little at how worried you were about the conversation with Shouto, only for it all to turn out fine.

“I’m going to go drink some of the liquor that’s kept in my room. I could mix a few drinks for you to try, you might like how sweet they are. I know hard alcohol isn’t quite your thing.”

You beam a smile, nodding your head eagerly. Before, you’d feel apprehensive about going into his room with him to drink alcohol. But with the conversation the two of you just had, you knew - things would be fine.

-----

The room was spinning and you felt giddy and light. You were definitely tipsy.

“You can lay down on my bed, you’re getting wobbly on your feet.” Shouto had offered, and you’d gladly accepted, flopping down onto his comfy bedspread with a laugh at how the motion made butterflies rise in your tummy.

Shouto leaned against his dresser, swirling whiskey in his glass as he watched you, a half-smile across his face. You smiled back, before closing your eyes, a little bit tired as you realized that you might be a bit more than just tipsy.

Shouto had mixed quite a few drinks for you, and you’d drank each one eagerly, impressed with how little alcohol you could taste in each one. You don’t remember how many you had, but it didn’t really matter.

The next thing you know, hands are on your waist, scooting you further up the bed so your legs no longer hang off the edge. Cracking open an eye, you’re met with the visage of red-and-white, eyes soft and warm as they regard you, Shouto’s face tinged a bit pink from the few drinks he had consumed. The man had never been too good at holding his alcohol.

When those hands started to slip beneath your shirt, you wiggled like a little worm, not really comprehending the situation. Maybe it was a dream.

Your shirt was discarded, then your pants. It felt much more comfortable now, and you mumbled a “thanks” to the man helping you settle for bed. He was so nice, Shouto took such good care of you. You still kind of couldn’t believe the turn your life had taken with him, the good luck pushed into your path.

Someone was kissing you.

With a grunt of surprise, you kissed them back, meeting their feverish pace and trying to keep up, soft lips puckering and pushing against your own with intent. Kissing felt good. You liked kissing.

Then a hand was cupping your face, stroking tenderly over your cheek before it began sliding down, down your neck, into the valley between your breasts, trailing over your bra. It felt funny.

Pushing back for air, you gasped when the hand on your chest started squeezing at you, eyes flying open with the startling, sudden sensation.

Shouto was hovering over you, lips puffy, panting as he stared at you with lusty eyes, an uncharacteristic look on his face. This... this wasn’t supposed to be like this. You knew. Hadn’t the two of you just talked about something... important? Was it important?

You didn’t feel panic until a hand cupped your sex, feeling your skin through your panties.

This wasn’t right.

Alarm bells were ringing, dull and far away, but you didn’t think that Shouto should be touching you in such a way. you should be going to bed.

“Mm, Sho, can you stop?” But your words felt funny on your tongue, and Shouto didn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t hear you.

His hair tickled your chin as the man bent to mouth at your tits, pulling the cups of your bra underneath them so he could feel your hot skin, let his saliva drag slick and wet against your chest. 

Your hands instinctively rooted themselves in his hair as you gasped again, not expecting such a move, tugging lightly at his head to pull him up. Shouto just groaned, teething gently at your breasts and not moving an inch. His hips were grinding against the bed though, as he stood between your spread legs.

Before you knew it, your panties were gone, bra clumsily unclasped and discarded, and you were completely bare. Shouto was undressing before you, struggling with the buttons on his shirt before giving up, easily ripping the fabric of his body with one tug, grumbling.

You didn’t feel so tipsy anymore.

“Shouto, what’re we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this, we need to stop-”

“Stay down.” Was his firm command, a hand splayed across your naked chest and pushing you back into the mattress as you tried to sit up. It made you breathless, the growl in his voice, the dominance emanating from the man. You stayed still.

“This’s gonna make us a stronger couple.” The man slurred, eyes dark and hands wandering, effortlessly keeping you pinned against the bed as he ground his hips forward against the edge. You were getting scared.

“Wait-”

You fell silent as one hand pushed down his pants, his underwear going with them, pink cock bobbing free. He was so pretty down there, and it made sense, all of him was pretty, but you suddenly realized the weight of the situation, what was happening.

“Shouto, no, oh my god. We gotta stop right now, we’re drunk, we’re-we’re-”

“Don’t care. Not gonna let you hide away from me this time.” Shouto shook his head, taking his cock in one hand and giving it a long, slow pump, flushed tip weeping precum and wetting his hand.

“No, no, this is wrong. I don’t want this, I could get pregnant!” You cried, beginning to panic for real, pushing against the one strong hand anchoring you to the bed.

Shouto just chuckled, letting go of his cock to crowd against you, getting up in your face to press a wet finger to your lips, the salty taste of his precum threatening to slip into your mouth unless you kept it shut. “Shhh, shh. If you stay nice and still, if you do what I say, I’ll use a condom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears.

“You’re gonna listen to me, you always do.” The man nodded to himself, once again dragging his cock against the bed between your legs, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “Or else I’ll fuck you raw.” The finger was pulled from your lips, only to be wagged teasingly in your face. 

You couldn’t believe how he was acting.

“Be nice.”

Shouto tapped your nose with a neatly manicured finger, before groaning as he heaved himself upright, red cock bobbing against his stomach, desperate for attention. The man gave you a look, as if to say “don’t move” before he took his hands off you, heading for his dresser.

Once you saw him pulling out a strip of condoms, you were on your feet, stumbling toward the door.

Although panic had sobered you somewhat, you were still struggling with the effects of the alcohol, so your reaction time was maddeningly slow. Slow enough that you weren’t able to truly fight against Shouto when he grabbed you from behind toned arms wrapping around your middle and heaving you into the air, only to throw you back on his bed.

You were almost sick on the bedspread, world spinning and stomach protesting, but you were able to calm yourself.

But then Shouto was on you, flipping you onto your back, a soft hand pressing against your throat threateningly. 

“You want to have a baby? Want me to cum in you so you’ll get all fat with kids? Hm?” He was so intense, almost choking you, straddling your waist and keeping you pinned. It was too much

You were able to manage a tearful, desperate “No!” despite the hand around your throat, and Shouto backed off, releasing the pressure to instead stroke his hand against the sides of your neck.

“Stop acting like this, it’s the next logical step for us. You said you cared for me, wanna make me happy. This’ll make me happy. I won’t be like the last guy.”

His cock was pressed against your stomach, and you could feel it twitching. Shouto clambered off of you, letting go of your neck so he could grab the condoms he’d tossed on the bed before snatching you up.

“Do what I say and I use these.” He waved them in your face before tearing one off, beginning to open it. 

You stayed still, gazing at him blearily, limbs feeling fuzzy, mind feeling the same.

The condom was rolled onto Shouto’s cock, the man spitting into his palm and giving the latex a few rubs to make it slick before reaching for you.

He dragged you to the edge of the bed - the perfect height for him to fuck you - and you didn’t fight, terrified of his threat. You couldn’t stand the thought of a baby.

(You didn’t know, but neither could he)

“Wanted to do this since I met you.” Shouto mumbled, pushing your panties to the side with a few fingers so he could guide his tip to your hole. “Want you so bad.”

You didn’t know what to think of this side of Shouto. This unreserved, uncareful, slurring mess of a man that loomed before you, gaze dark and wild, limbs everywhere as he groped and squeezed and appreciate the shape of your body.

But he must’ve gotten impatient, because then he was pushing inside.

It hurt, stinging pain rippling up your back and you keened, causing Shouto to pause. One of his hands darted down to wrap around your calf, hauling it up on the bed so he could lean forward and press it to you chest, sinking his cock a few inches deeper.

“You’re gonna take it.” He hissed before messily kissing you, pressed so close together that it was hard to breathe. “I’ll make it feel good after you do.”

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Nine)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Smut, Domestic Violence, Angst

Words: 3,064

Please comment and interact...it's what keeps this blog going

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

Almost a week had passed since you stayed with Cillian at his unit in Galway and, despite the fact that he was away, things had further developed between you as emotions grew with every day.

He was different to any man you had ever been involved with and, whilst your involvement with each other stemmed from purely sexual lust and hunger, you had evolved from this to something different entirely within a matter of days.

Of course, you knew each other for years and, whilst you had a crush on Cillian for as long as you could remember, you never thought that it would be like this and, for Cillian, this feeling had never been mutual.

Whilst he always considered you to be attractive and very intelligent and kind, he never felt any emotional connection or sexual attraction towards you, at least not until that weekend when you visited Denise, which was also the first time he saw you again after six months had passed.

On that night during which you slept with each other, he let his sexual hunger take over his reasonable thinking mind after he saw you, in his kitchen, making pancakes and you had since, quite openly, talked about it. He saw sleeping with you as a mistake but, ever since that night, he couldn’t get you out of his head.

For you, things weren’t just sexual anymore and you began to feel strongly for Cillian which worried you especially since he was open about the fact that he didn’t know where things were heading with you. The fact that you are his daughter’s friend and much younger than him clearly bothered him and he sometimes admitted to you that he felt strange about building such a strong connection with you. A relationship was not what he wanted but he liked you, a lot.

As such, during the past week, Cillian called you every day after he finished filming and you were talking to him more frequently than you were talking to Denise.

During his breaks, he would also text you and check in on you as you were in the middle of exams. He always remembered when you had a test and asked you how it went and, when you told him that you didn’t feel confident with your results, he reassured you that you probably did well and, even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. According to him, a pass is a pass and you needed to lower your expectations of yourself just a little.

To your surprise, he also remembered appointments you had scheduled and things that bothered you which meant that, unlike other men you had been with, he was actually listening and was interested in what you had to say.

Some nights, you had spent hours on the phone or Skype, joking about things you had encountered that day or talking about books, literature and music, which is something you both enjoyed.

Politics and social issues were other matters you could discuss endlessly and, even when you were of different opinions, you would be able to argue in the most satisfying way. Cillian always treated you as an equal and even opened up to you about his divorce from Denise’s mother recently.

Another thing you learned from Cillian was that Denise was brining along her friend Amalie to Manchester to stay at his apartment and, when you gave him a warning about her and her intentions, he reminded you that he only had eyes for you. In fact, he always showered you with compliments and all of his compliments were genuine and came natural to him, helping you immensely with your self-consciousness.

Unfortunately, whilst you enjoyed how engaging Cillian was with you every day, like a teenager in love, with the constant text messages and calls, your father soon got suspicious and confronted you about.

****

“Dad, I am almost 22, you don’t need to be spying on me” you said somewhat frustrated as he asked you who you were talking to every day.

“You live under my roof and you answer me young lady” he said harshly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes just as your mother stepped in, trying to calm him down. Your father was much older, approaching sixty and fairly old school in the way he expected you and your sister to behave.

“A friend…I am talking to a friend” you explained and your father asked again, telling you not to lie to him because he would know.

“And this friend of yours, you can’t meet him…you just text and talk? You can’t bring him to our house and introduce him?” your father asked along with a million other questions.

“No, I can’t. he lives in Dublin and I, most certainly, wouldn’t bring him into this…” you said somewhat irritated by the interrogation.

“Dublin, huh? So, you met him when you visited Denise?” he asked and you nodded.

“It’s not her brother, is it? Because I really don’t want you to get involved with him. I don’t like this family and their views” your father said harshly, causing you to chuckle.

“Their views?” you asked somewhat surprised and your father nodded.

“Yes, their views on what’s right and wrong. If I recall correctly, this girl you call your friend was going out with someone of the same gender for a while. God didn’t tell us to do this but her parents obviously didn’t have an issue with it which, apparently is called new age parenting. Everything is pro choice and lets their children decide what is best for them even if they lack experience” your father went on to say and you couldn’t help but shake your head at his absurd commentary but, he continued and you soon learned what had happened between your parents and Denise’s parents many years ago, before which your mother had called Denise’s mother her friend as well.

According to your father, Cillian had voiced his opinion to your father when it was found out that your sister was pregnant following a short affair with a man she had met through university.

Cillian’s ex wife had told your sister that she had options, causing your father to get rather angry with her, which is when Cillian stepped in, supporting what Denise’s mother had said.

She had offered your sister help but your father considered this to be a betrayal and, whilst your mother maintained contact with Denise’s mother for a while, your father refused to get involved with Denise’s family thereafter.

Cillian’s often all so public views angered him and he made this very clear. He didn’t want you to be involved with his children and you couldn’t help but laugh about the irony of it all when you found out about this incident.

“Jesus Dad, that was years ago and not everyone has to have the same views as you” you said before confirming that you weren’t seeing Denise’s brother.

“No, they don’t, but I am just looking out for you and, instead of acting the way you do, throwing yourself at guys with new age ideas, I would much prefer if you met a nice young catholic man” your father explained, causing your mother to fume in anger with him.

“Throwing myself at guys? Listen, I am not sure what slut you think I am but it’s nice to know that you think so little of me” you said before storming upstairs and into your room.

Having to deal with this crap bothered you and you knew that, when this semester came to an end, you could be moving out now that you saved enough money for a bond and rent.

*****

As the evening went on, you spent all of your time in your room, reading a book until, finally, at around 9 o’clock you saw a notification on Skype.

‘Hey Beautiful’ Cillian said as you picked up and popped in your headphones.

Cillian apologised for calling through so late and informed you that he was finally able to speak to Laura, the woman he was seeing before you.

He knew that you wanted to know about it and he had no problem telling you what you needed to hear while telling you that you had absolutely nothing to worry about.

It was Laura’s first day back on set after a week-long break and Cillian told you that she wasn’t exactly impressed when he stood her down.

‘She probably likes you…I can understand that’ you said calmly but Cillian told you that he was pretty clear with her about what this was between them.

‘Well, in retrospect, I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her’ he went on and you were quite happy to change the topic by this point and told him that you were aching for him.

‘Well, I am not sure that I can help you with that’ Cillian chuckled.

‘We could have Skype sex I suppose’ you giggled.

‘Skype Sex?’ Cillian laughed before telling you that he didn’t think that this would be a good idea since you were at home with your parents and you had previously complained about the thin walls of the house.

‘Oh Jesus Cillian, my father already thinks I am a slut, so I personally don’t care if anyone hears me getting myself off. I’ve got my earphones in and am the only one who can hear you and my door is locked’ you chuckled.

‘Your father thinks that you are a slut? Do you want to talk about that?’ Cillian asked concerned but you shook your head.

‘I rather not. You met him and know what he is like’ you explained.

‘I do. He takes God very seriously’ Cillian said before continuing on. ‘But, if you have problems at home you need to tell me please. You can stay at my apartment. I can get my house keeper to meet you there with the key’ he offered.

‘You said you were going to stay out of stuff between me and my parents just as I would stay out of matters between you and Denise’ you then said, reminding him on the conversation about your respective roles which you had three days ago.

‘Yes I did, but I can’t if I have to worry about you’ Cillian said firmly.

‘There is no need to worry Cillian. I promise’ you reassured him. ‘Well, actually, I need you to worry about my sexual needs right now’ you then went on to say with sly grin.

‘Through Skype?’ Cillian asked again somewhat concerned.

‘Yes’ you said with a cheeky smile as you settled more into your bed with your laptop.

‘Alright then, show me what you are wearing” Cillian said as he cut straight to the point.

‘Can you see?’ you asked as you adjusted the cam and showed Cillian your dark blue lingerie.

‘Very nice…but…I think you would look even better if you were naked, don’t you think?’ Cillian said somewhat nervously and you nodded in agreement.

‘Well, I suppose I should strip for you and you should strip for me’ you giggled as you seductively took off your bra slowly, showing Cillian your perky breasts through the camera.

You heard him inhale sharply as he watched you and took his t-shirt off at the same time, leaving him in nothing but his CK briefs.

Without words you then scooted back on the bed and removed your undies, allowing him to watch before you sat down on the bed, spread eagle and naked, giving him a good view of your mound.

‘Jesus Y/N, you are so fucking beautiful and sexy…touch yourself for me, nice and slow’ Cillian breathed out and you let his soothing voice wash over you, knowing what he was trying to do and happily helping him succeed.

‘Like this?’ you moaned as you began to run circles over your clit with your fingers.

‘Yes, just like that babe’ Cillian groaned as he shuffled down his briefs and you were finally getting a good look of his hard cock.

‘Oh god, I want to stroke your cock so badly’ you moaned as you seductively opened your pussy lips with your fingers, opening yourself up before reaching for the black vibrator you kept in your bedside table.

‘Well, someone's particularly horny tonight’ Cillian chuckled as he watched you play with your pussy, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You mumbled a small "mhm," and he laughed.

‘Good, that's exactly how I like you, so naughty and needy’ Cillian said as he slowly began to stroke his hard member.

You barely registered his words enough to answer with another "mhm," but your subconscious managed it. Your weak answer elicited another delicious chuckle from the other end of the line.

"Why don't you show me how this little toy of yours works?” Cillian then asked as he watched you eagerly.

“I was just waiting for you to ask” you giggled as you began to run your fingers along your stomach and back up to your chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps their wake before reaching for the vibrator and turning it on.

“Put into your sweet pussy babe, let me see it” Cillian groaned and you moan in response, barely processing his words but still understanding enough to answer and do what he asked.

"I bet your pussy is already dripping” he said as you slid the vibrator into you slowly. He was right, you could feel your wetness pooling.

“I am so fucking wet and I wish it would be your cock inside me” you moaned as you began to stroke the toy in and out of you.

Cillian was groaning on the other side, his eyes full of lust and desire for you and you let out a quiet moan as you watched him with the same desire and hunger while you were pleasuring yourself.

“Good girl, keep going…” Cillian tells you and you moan again hearing it.

“Tell me how much you are aching for my cock” he then said you moaned again.

“I want your cock so badly, fuck…I want your cum inside me, dripping out of my wet little pussy” you moaned, eliciting a groan from Cillian as he began to stroke his cock harder and faster.

“Such a naughty needy girl, aren’t you? I can’t wait to be inside you again and make you cum over and over again” Cillian said with a laboured breath and you are barely listening at this point.

“I want you to cum for me and show me this dripping pussy when you do…I fucking love hearing your moans, so fucking sexy…common babe….let go” Cillian said, knowing that you were close and your orgasm rolled over you as soon as the word 'cum' left his lips, and although your sensitive clit was screaming at your hand to stop, you couldn't.

‘Oh god fuck, yes…’ you moaned as you came hard and fast.

“That’s it babe, don’t stop” he instructed as your moans continuously spilled from your mouth, and you were not even sure what you were saying or if you were forming words at all. The only thing in your head is a deliciously heavy fog and Cillian’s voice guiding you to do what he wanted.

“Don’t stop, keep fucking your sweet little pussy babe” Cillian ordered as he knew you weren’t done and, just as he did, you let out a high-pitched moan, bordering on a scream, as an even stronger orgasm washed over your body.

‘Cum for me babe…I want to see all this cum’ you moaned in return, focusing on the delicious image in front of you as Cillian was stroking his cock and, just when you finally come back down you heard Cillian groan loudly.

“Fuck” he groaned as he stroked his cock hard and fast you watched rope after rope of cum spurt onto his stomach.

‘Oh god, what a waste, I want to lick your cum off your skin so badly” you breathed out as Cillian came down from his high slowly and used a tissue to clean himself up.

‘Stop saying those things or you have to stay on the line for another twenty minutes at least’ Cillian chuckled as he could feel his manhood stir again.

‘Well, I think you shouldn’t cum again until you come to visit me in Galway the weekend after next…I want you to save it all for me’ you said, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow as he pulled his briefs back up.

‘Fat chance babe’ he chuckled, knowing that going without an orgasm for nine days would be rather difficult for him.

Eventually, after a lot of begging, he agreed to try but he wouldn’t be able to make you any promises to this effect.

***

The following day, you went to work and then university thereafter but, when you eventually returned home, your father was in a worse mood than ever before.

‘Can you explain this to me?’ he asked angrily as soon as you walked through the door and you couldn’t help but gulp when he pointed to a white box which he had placed on the living room table.

‘You went through my personal belongings’ you huffed out as the box contained some lingerie and intimate items, including toys, that you were hiding in the bottom of your dresser.

‘Again Y/N, this is my house, my rules and I don’t want my daughter to own filth like this’ he said, after having heard small pieces of your conversation with Cillian on Skype the evening before.

It was obvious to you that your father was appalled and you were outraged that he had been snooping through your room and, as you would later learn, had even tried to access your computer.

‘I can’t fucking believe you dad. These are my personal belongings and you have no right to go through them’ you huffed out and, just as you did, you could feel a sharp strike across your face.

‘Get this shit out of my house and talk to me with some respect’ he said harshly, leaving you speechless and in tears as he walked away, leaving your cheek burning red.

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@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​

[mintmatcha]

ukai keishin - grumpy

amy!!!! ty so much for the request- i really admire your writing and i hope you like this!!!]

Summary: just a snapshot of your relationship with keishin

Contains: NFSW, 18+, no reader pronouns, reader has a vagina, new relationship/established relationship, soft smut, slight mention of relationship issues.

ukai x reader

word count: 4k

cross posted: ao3

The woody vine digs into the pad of your thumb as you pluck another pepper. The repetition has dug a noticeable indentation into the skin, one that makes you wince every time you harvest a vegetable. In the low light of pre-dawn, sun still tucked behind the mountains, you can't see the bruising on your fingers, but you can feel how it pulses. Popping the digit into your mouth, the warmth of your tongue is automatically soothing, so much so that you can ignore the soft taste of soil on your skin.

“I told you to bring gloves.” Keishin chides, barely looking up at you. He’s squatted a couple feet away, elbows resting on his thighs as he works. The rubber boots, with his oversized overalls crammed into the top, squeak every time he shifts. Pick, squeak, pick, squeak. You open your mouth to tease him, but the way his eyes meet yours, steeled and firm, tell you he’s not in the mood. Cinching his teeth around the worn leather, he pulls his hand from the glove and leaves it dangling from his mouth, lips curled to avoid touching the dust directly. Even in his goofy attire, there’s something about his focus- the downward cast of his eyes, the hint of his canine over the leather, the steadiness of his hands- that makes your heart flutter. Wordlessly, he takes the glove out of his mouth and tosses it your way. You catch it with a fumble.

“Are you sure?” you ask as you pull it on. The tips of the glove gap above your fingertips, bending outward as you clench your fist.  “What about you?”

He shrugs and returns to work. Even in the darkness you can see his scowl. “I guess I’m not as delicate as you.”

You didn’t blame him. He doesn’t mean to be this… grumpy. This was the worst time of year for Keishin; harvest season overlapped with volleyball preliminaries. The late nights he had been pulling with the team after work on top of these early mornings at his family’s farm had to be draining. It was no wonder that date nights had become nearly nonexistent. It didn’t help that your work schedule often led to you working on the weekends, meaning that between the two of you there were no free days. Sleepovers are far and few between; both of you still live at home and, despite the fact you are both well into your twenties, your parents weren’t too keen on your sleeping next to someone while unwed. No free days, no free nights.

Again, you didn’t blame him. It wasn’t like he was trying to avoid you, three jobs was a lot for anyone. It was hard to ignore your concern for his well-being, but he was always quick to dismiss your worries. ‘I’m an adult.’ he always insisted. ‘I can balance myself.’ 

Was it selfish to miss him? Was it selfish to wish there was an extra hour in his day for you? 

“You didn’t have to come.” Ukai says, matter-of-fact. “You should be sleeping right now.” 

“I want to be here.” you insist. It’s almost a lie. Do you really want to be here, squatting in the dirt, picking vegetables at 5:30am? Of course not, but you wanted to be here for him. With him. 

The metal thermos at your feet wobbles as you adjust, the deep squat you’ve been sitting in starting to ache deep in your thighs. Dropping forward onto your knees, the gravel of the path digging into your kneecaps, you wrap your hands around the metal, pressing it against your chest to feel the ambient warmth. The blonde doesn’t turn from his work, but he does tilt his head towards you, a small sign of his attention.

“You gonna hold it or drink it?’ 

You huff before taking a delicate sip, trying to avoid burning your lips. “I’m savoring it, ‘Shin.”

“ ‘Savoring it.’ ” he repeats. The grit of sleep still clings to his voice. He sounds weathered, tired. “Are you gonna let me ‘savor’ some of that?”

“Maybe.” you take another sip before placing the cup back down, this time closer to him, a silent invitation. It’s like trying to feed a stray cat, luring him in with the promise of something tasty. “If you’re good.”

A long moment passes and he doesn’t move, he just studies you. There may have been a flicker of a smile, a hint of a good mood hiding underneath the surface, but it's gone before you can process it.

“You know.” he says, “I don’t know how you do it.” he continues working with bare hands and, even without protection, he works so much faster than you. You can tell he’s been doing this for years; every twist of his wrist seems practiced. It’s something you try and emulate each time you’re here with him, but it only slows you down more. 

“Do what?”

Keishin finally stops. He chews his cheek for a moment, eyes flickering across your features. He opens his mouth, then shuts it with a sigh as he weakly gestures to the thermos at your feet. “The coffee. How do you make the coffee?”

You can’t help but sigh as you fall back onto your seat. You cross your legs as you grab the thermos, taking a deep pull. Again, you savor it with a hum and Keishin snorts at your antics. He picks from the row of plants once more before standing. Hands on the back of his pelvis, he stretches slowly, popping his back with the same care an old man would. It reminds you of his grandfather, but you keep that remark to yourself. 

“ ‘Shin, you make yourself coffee every day- probably the same way I do.” you say as he plops himself next to you. The cup is already waiting for him when he reaches for it.

“But yours is always better.” he doesn’t say it with the sweetness of a compliment- he says it like a fact. It shouldn’t make you smile this wide, but it does. He blows over the lid of the mug, watching the steam twist into the air for a moment before taking a drink. It was your coffee, but  you had made it for him- just a splash of cream, a crazy amount of sugar: just the way he likes it.  The crinkle at the corner of his eye as drinks tells you that he notices. 

“Are you savoring it?” you ask. He just closes his eyes and sighs.

"I guess I am."

Even without looking, his pinky finds yours, looping together gently. It's the gloveless hand, finding yours. Bare skin against bare skin, warmth against warm. Your body prickles with warmth as he squeezes; something about him pulling you closer, even if it’s just a finger’s width closer, makes your heart jump.  It’s funny how the smallest gesture makes you melt. Keishin didn’t always have a lot to give you; your relationship was a collection of these small moments together, settled between his jobs and yours, but it was enough. 

Every moment together is restorative.

“Cinnamon.” you press a kiss into his shoulder as you snag your cup back. He peeks at you through one open eye,  “I put cinnamon in the coffee.”

Keishin leans into you, resting his head against your shoulder. He nuzzles into your sleeve, drawing in a deep breath, before pulling away to sit up straight again. Reaching back into the row of plants before you, he plucks one carefully before dropping it into the bucket. “Nah, that’s not it.”

You blink. “Uh, yeah. It is.”

“Nah. It’s because it’s made with love.” he smirks.

You pretend to think for a moment. "Actually, I didn't make this cup with love- so you're wrong."

He rolls his head back to watch you. "Oh yeah?"

"I made it with hate." 

"Really." he tilts his body, chest pressed against your shoulder.

"You didn’t taste my loathing?" you tease.

The tip of his nose grazes your ear, nudging you softly. His breath warms the side of your face, lips just a moment from your skin. He’s patient, waiting for you to come to him. You try and resist for just a moment, but he nudges you with a huff. 

You can’t help but crumble.

 There’s a hint of a chuckle as you finally turn to meet his lips. The kiss is off center, connecting at the corner of your mouth. You try to pull back to correct it when a leathered hand grips on to your jaw and he holds your face steady, squishing your lips with sheer force. Ukai doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping your lower lip before dipping into your mouth. He tastes like coffee and cinnamon, sweet and bitter. With every movement, he savors you, pulling you deeper and deeper until the both of you are twisted into each other's embrace. 

When he pulls away, it’s too soon. It’s not until he’s panting against you that you realize your own lungs are burning for air, almost as if your hunger for him had outweighed your need to breathe.

He hums thoughtfully. “I dunno, tastes like love to me.”

You roll your eyes, trying to bite back your smirk as you lean in for another kiss. “God, you’re the worst, Shin.”

This time, he doesn’t connect. Instead, he pulls away, mouth downturned once again as he stares back into the sea of green. It’s an unfocused stare, focused more on his thoughts than his surroundings. 

“Yeah, I kinda am, aren’t I?”

“Hey, what-” you struggle with what to say. “Don’t be like that.”

“I mean, it’s true.” he shrugs. “This is our first date in, what? 3 weeks? And we’re working on my fucking grandpa’s-”

Your elbow cracks against the soft of his ribs, a bit harder than necessary. He wheezes slightly as you knock the air out of him. “Negativity be gone.”

He whines a bit too dramatically. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with you? Did you learn that from Sugawara? I’m never letting you watch a game ever again.”

It’s hard to hold back your smirk. “I mean- it worked! I’m not going to let you ruin the moment with your nega-!”

“Shut up for a second!” he says and this time he’s the one throwing an elbow. “I’m trying to apologize for being a shitty boyfriend!”

“You shut up!” you mirror him, but he’s ready this time. His response is quick, catching your arms against his. You two continue, poking back and forth roughly, laughter bubbling up. “You don’t need to apologize for being busy!”

“Well, I’m going to.” he grabs the edge of your shirt, leaning into you once again. “Come here and accept it.”

The gravel shifts under your feet as you scramble to stand, pulling out of his grasp. He watches you in confusion as you back away, but his look quickly transforms into something playfully predatory. The shift is wordless, but both of you understand the game that’s about to unfold. 

“Come. Here.”

“No way.”

You turn on your heel and run. Keishin’s quick, grunting with effort as he throws himself forward. The sound of his shoes, squeaking against the rock, is faster than you anticipate and you have to force your legs to pump quicker. The  cool morning air burns your throat as you barrel down the row, the dew covered leaves brushing against your arms and leaving wet stripes. Something about the simple act of moving dissolves all your tension, all your worries. 

You turn your head to check in on your pursuer. Keishin is behind you, running with just as much force as you, but he’s grinning ear to ear with breathless laugh. It’s not his usual mischievous grin, but a soft one. A relaxed one. His baseball cap is halfway off of his head, caught by the wind, but he doesn’t reach to save it. He’s too busy reaching for you.

Everything is quiet except the two of you, laughing breathlessly as you chase each other like children. The sun has just started to crest the mountains, illuminating the sky with a blur of pastels. The pink of the sky reflects in his hair, catching in the glint of his eye as his gaze meets yours, and something in your brain tells you that you’ll remember this exact moment for the rest of your life.  You want the moment to freeze, to stay  in this childish bliss forever-

-but, of course, it doesn’t.

The rubber toe of Keishin’s boot catches a rock, sending him tumbling forward into a slow fall. He stumbles, catching himself for a moment before falling onto his knees, then his face. With a wince, he rolls on to his back, arms and legs spread eagle in defeat. Oversized pants, chunky boots, a stupid baseball cap: he looked more like an exhausted toddler than an adult. You slow to a jog, trying to pretend his fall wasn’t absolutely hilarious, but your stomach is clenching with the repressed laughter. Backtracking, you join his crumbled form.

“You okay?” you’re panting much harder than you should be. God,  shouldn’t the smoker be less athletic? 

“No, I think I’m really hurt.” 

“Where? Your knees?” you drop to your knees immediately and reach for him, taking his hands in yours. The palm of his non gloved hand is scraped, but there’s no sign of blood. 

“My ego.” he groans, “I think I bruised it.”

You  let out something that isn’t quite a sigh or a groan. “You jerk.” you lean down and place a kiss on the bridge of his nose, right over where it crinkles when he smiles. “You had me worried for a second.”

He cranes forward to press his lips against yours, but only going as far as to brush his lips against yours. Every movement of your lips is a ghost against his, each breath more present than the feeling of skin. Each kiss is just a tease, barely a taste, and it makes you feel hungry. His hand circles your waist before drawing a line up your spine and your hunger deepens, burning deep into your core.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately.” he says against your skin, hand guiding you closer to him. You lay down next to him, resting your head on his bicep. It should feel silly, to be laying in the dirt, in the middle of the field, but there’s something so natural about being with him that makes you forget about your surroundings. There’s something natural and unadulterated about being quiet with each other.

“It won’t be like this forever, I promise.” he’s the first to break the silence. “One day, we’ll see each other every day. Just- be patient with me.”

You kiss his shoulder. “You’re worth the wait.” you place another one a few inches upwards. “I miss you, but you’ll always be worth the wait.”

Ukai rolls, throwing a knee over your hips to loom over you. His bangs tickle your forehead as he kisses you. It’s short. “I miss you.”

He places another peck on your lips. “Every day.”

Another kiss catches you off guard. “Every night.” 

Another one. This one is long enough for you to kiss back. “Constantly. I miss you constantly.”

You hook a leg over his ass, fingers starting to fiddle with the buttons holding his overalls up. “Prove it.”

He hesitates. Tilting his head up, he holds his breath as he scans the row, searching for any signs of movement in the distance. Until now, you had forgotten that other people even exist. The air is still, only the distant sound of crows cutting through the silence. His muscles relax against you after a moment, gaze returning to study your features. 

“I missed you.” he leans in and breathes into the shell of your ear before sinking his canines into the lobe. The sharpness sends you keening in surprise, pressing yourself farther into him. He takes the opportunity to tuck his arm under the arch of your back, using the angle to hold your hips against his, his forming bulge pressed right against your core. Your hands are still twiddling with the clasp on his overalls, your proximity to him making the simple task much harder than it should be. Every one of his movements is pulling you into him, like he can’t get you close enough to be satisfied. He sucks on the soft on your neck finishing the hickey off with a bite.

“Why’d you wear these stupid, ugly pants?” you huff as you finally free a button. Ukai breaks away from your neck to laugh before tracing his tongue across the bruise. The warmth surprises you and you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. 

“Fuck off.” his free hand easily unclinches your pants before shoving them down. The denim digs into the plush of your thighs as he struggles to place himself between your legs. The ground is cold and coarse against your bare skin, but you can’t focus on anything other than the heat of his breath trailing down your neck.

“Fuck- I missed you.” he repeats as you finally unclasp his overalls and slide them down. They hang off his hips, just low enough for his erection to hang over the fabric, his dooling cockhead resting against your stomach. Firmly, he taps his cock against you with a soft thwack, watching the translucent strings of precum connecting you stretch and break. It dribbles on the hem of your shirt and you want to admonish him for it, but when your eyes meet, his blown out pupils take your words away. The way he watches you, eyes hazed over with lust, is borderline feral. All you can do is kick down a pant leg, freeing your leg and allowing it to fall farther open for him.

Keishin slides further down you, greedily dragging the spongy head of his cock through your folds, gathering your slick. Each pass across your clit makes you twitch, thighs squeezing around his hips.  With a wolfish grin, he splits your cunt with his free hand and whistles at the sight. 

“I missed this pretty little pussy.” he pressed forward unceremoniously and the head of his cock squeezes into you with a pop. The stretch aches, but something deeper in you is burning for more. “Fuck, look how wet you are… “

He’s quick to bottom out, slamming his hips into yours as if he can’t hold back any longer. His eyes are struggling to stay open as he rolls his hips against you faster, struggling to continue watching your poor pussy struggle to take him. The weeks without him have left you desperate, hips uncontrollably bucking against his. The rhythm is off, your bodies struggling to keep up with each other and just ending up slamming against each other unevenly. It’s wild,  it leaves you breathless but your approaching high is so painfully close, neither of you can slow down to gather yourselves.

“You’re so good, fuck, so tight…” his head lolls forward, eyes fluttering closed, “You… so good… so hot… fuck, I missed you.”

Your hands wander up the front of his shirt, nails scraping against his chest. “Ple-ase, Keishin.” you beg, too breathless to say anything else. The sound of your voice makes him crumple over with a whine, fingers digging painfully hard into the fat of your hips as he struggles to pull you impossibly close. His cock twitches, spilling pulse after pulse of hot cum deep inside you. 

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” he murmurs, hips dragging out of you slowly. The movement makes you feel sloppy, the mixture of his cum and yours spilling down the crack of your ass. The sheer lewdness of it makes your core clench with desire, but the fading heat in your core makes you feel borderline nauseous. 

As you begin to untangle yourself, trying to hide your disappointment, he pulls you back in.

“Don’t.” he whispers into your chest. “I’m not- I’m not done with you.”

Ukai’s headband has slipped backwards, barely hanging on to the back of his head. The mess of blonde, half of it plastered to his forehead, tickles your cheek as he kisses your cheek. The edge of desperation is gone, replaced with something gentler, as he rolls back into you. Every bit of friction has been replaced with the slick, warmness of his cum. 

“I wanna wake up next to you every day.” Something about cumming has made him sappy. His hand dips low to circle your clit, tracing those practiced patterns you love so much. This time, instead of a fast, dangerous rise, the heat inside you pours slowly, like magma flowing through your core. 

“I’m going to buy you a big ol’ house.” he mumbles into your chest, looking up at you through his eyelashes. “And a pretty little ring. And -oh fuck you feel so good-  and, and you’re never gonna miss me again.” 

God, the term making love is corny, so impossibly cringey, but as he whispers those promises into your skin, you understand it. It’s more about the need to feel closer, the need to hold and be held. It’s three weeks of emotions that neither of you can vocalize.

Fuck, you feel so full. Physically, emotionally. Every caress is tender, delicate and appreciative. Your thumbs trace over his crow’s feet and for the umpteeth time this morning, you savor the moment. 

“I wanna be with you forever.”

Everything feels in focus- the friction of his jeans against your knees, the fabric clinging to your stomach, prickled with sweat, the ministrations of your lover’s lips against your skin as he whispers sweet nothings into you- but everything fades as you cum. Your orgasm hits slowly; you don’t even know you’re there until your legs are kicking out uncontrollably. Fingers tangled in the cotton of his shirt, you keen one last time. In the blur, you’re faintly aware of him joining you, his words dissolving into whines.

It takes a heartbeat for everything to still again. Keishin tilts his head up, studying you for a moment before speaking. 

“‘M so tired.” he essentially collapses on you, knocking the air out of your lungs. The lay he goes immediately slack in your arms would have been cute if whte weight of his body wasn’t pressing our bare skin into the gravel under you.  “I’m gonna nap.”

After quickly ruffling his hair, you press him up, gentling encouraging him to get off. “Come on, sleepyhead, your grandpa’s gonna start looking for us if we’re gone for too long.”

Keishin grimaces, propping himself up onto his elbows as he withdraws from you. The air against the mess on your thighs makes you shiver. “Please don’t mention the old man while I’m still inside you.”

He falls back into his heels and leaves you laying there. Before adjusting himself, he takes your bare leg by the ankle and tries to slip your pant leg back on. The hem gets caught on your heel and he fumbles.

“I can dress myself, Shin, you don’t have to.” you sigh, even as you adjust to make it easier. Denim sticks to your wet skin and he continues to work, completely ignoring your protest. As you lift your hips, letting him slide it past your waist. “Did you mean it?” 

He hums a question, buttoning your pants.

“You really wanna spend the rest of your days with me?”

Ukai looks up at you. “Well. Yeah, of course.” he smiles, “Who else is gonna put cinnamon in my coffee?”