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vampsywrites · 9 months

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II — i remember her hands, and the way the mountains looked.

Synopsis: In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Tags: Female! Mountain Na'vi! Reader, Arranged Marriage, Sun&Moon couple, Strangers to Lovers, Neteyam is whipped, Mentions of Jealousy&Possessiveness, Romantic tension, Neteyam wanting to impress his girl, Lo'ak having the time of his life teasing the shit out of Neteyam, Reader has that Tsahik rizz

Word Count: 2.8k | AO3 LINK

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With the village of the Iuva'ri clan now their new home, the Sullys followed you past open fields, their eyes wandering in amazement at the sights.

Everywhere they looked, the hustle and bustle of daily life surrounded them. Hunters could be seen hauling large beasts into the village, farmers had their hands deep in the earth as they worked to ensure a bountiful harvest, and weavers, with their deft hands, skillfully crafted intricate patterns into fabric.

Though the environment was not too different from what they were used to in the forest, it was still a significant change from the wild, cluttered jungle they had known all their life.

While his family was busy taking all of the clan in, Neteyam was fully focused on you. He watched in fascination as the village parted when you walked past, people practically throwing themselves aside to clear your path. From elders to children, they bowed in reverence and greeted you with warmth and admiration, recognizing you as their Tsahìk.

Through the walk, Neteyam also couldn't help but notice how your presence captured the attention of the young men and women around. Warriors, weavers, hunters – they all seemed to be drawn to you, stopping in their tracks with blushing cheeks as they exchanged hushed words. Their lingering gazes and subtle glances, their eyes which seemed to follow you like a predator stalking its prey, didn't escape Neteyam's watchful eyes.

As he observed this intense attention you garnered, a pang of possessiveness surged through his gut, and his tail lashed out in irritation.

Neteyam felt torn, battling with the internal struggle of feeling irrationally possessive. Deep down, he knew he had no right to be jealous. After all, he had no claim over you, and he had yet to truly earn your trust and affection.

The announcement of your courtship clearly took the clan by surprise. While some genuinely celebrated your happiness, others found it difficult to hide their envy. Evident by the glares sent his way from those who might have hoped to be in his place.

This scrutiny only served to intensify his emotions.

"This will be your home now," you called out, your voice calm and welcoming, pulling him away from his thoughts. Neteyam watched as you guided them to a beautifully crafted hut elevated on bamboo wooden stilts. It stood gracefully above the ground, a testament to the skilled craftsmanship of your people. The roof was steeply pitched and thatched with nipa palm leaves, while the walls were intricately woven from bamboo slats.

Tuktirey gasped in amazement, her eyes wide with childish wonder as she marveled at the hut's elevated design. "It's so tall!" she exclaimed, clearly impressed by the unique structure.

You hummed, understanding their awe and sensing the underlying hesitation in some of them.

"You will grow to like it," you reassured with a small smile. "It may be different from what you're used to, but it will keep you safe and warm. Our people have lived in harmony with Eywa and these lands for generations."

Tuktirey beamed up at you. "I can't wait to explore and learn more about your ways," she cheers, enthusiasm evident.

“I am sure you will learn well, little one,” you hum, running a hand through her braided hair.

With ease, you then moved towards the stairs, climbing up with a sense of familiarity as you began to haul their belongings to their new home. The family followed behind you, still feeling a tad bit out of place.

After ensuring they were comfortable, you began to excuse yourself, knowing you needed to give them some privacy. As you walked past Neteyam, catching his gaze, you gently rest your hand upon his chest. After murmuring a quick goodbye, you withdrew your hand and swiftly left the hut. Neteyam’s mind ran haywire, the spot where your hand had been burned with a sudden fire, leaving a lingering sensation on his skin that he couldn't shake off.

Eywa. It had only been a day and already you had an effect on him.

With your departure, the family gathered together, finding a spot to discuss the events that had transpired earlier. Neytiri paced back and forth in the open hut, footsteps loud against the wooden flooring, her mind racing with a myriad of thoughts and emotions.

"Alright," Jake sighed, running a rugged hand down his face, breaking through the tension. "We have to unpack what just happened earlier."

Neytiri nodded, her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the situation. Her eyes turned to Neteyam, concern evident in her voice as she asked, "Ma'itan, are you sure of this?"

"Oh, he sure is," Lo'ak answered for his brother, sending a grin his way. "I mean—Did you hear him back there?"

"I will accept this proposal. Only if she will have me," he mocked, mimicking Neteyam's accent in a deep, gravely tone. Kiri couldn't help but hide her face with her hand, trying to stifle her laughter.

"Skxawng," Neteyam snarled playfully and gave Lo'ak a light smack in response, which only made his younger siblings laugh even more.

"Enough, you two," Neytiri's voice rang out, cutting through the air. She shook her head in exasperation, her beaded locks swaying and rattling with her movements. Turning her attention back to her eldest, her tone dropped a timbre as she murmured, "Neteyam, this is a big decision. Are you truly sure about this? You wish to mate with that woman?"

Neteyam's gaze shifted from his brother to his mother, lips drawing into a contemplative frown as the weight of it all settled heavily on his shoulders. The significance of such a union wasn't lost on him. The mating bond was not merely a union of bodies; it was the fusion of two souls, a sacred connection dictated by Eywa. He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express his feelings.

"I am sure," he replied, his voice steady, despite the turmoil inside him. Neytiri studied his face for a moment, catching the hesitation laced in his expression.

"You do not have to do something your heart is against," his mother whispered, reaching forward, both of her hands finding his tense shoulders, rubbing deep circles into his muscle. Neteyam felt the warmth and reassurance in his mother's touch, and for a moment, he leaned into it, finding comfort in her presence.

"That’s the thing. My heart isn’t against it. I just… I felt something when I saw her." He then hesitated, struggling to unknot his mind and put his feelings into words. "Like-Like a heartbeat."

Kiri's eyes sparkled with wonder, a look of recognition flashing behind her eyes. Her tail swished with delight as she leaned forward eagerly, the shawl slipping off her shoulder in the haste of her movement. "You must have felt Eywa's connection with her. Was it like a calling? Could you feel a mighty heartbeat?"

Neteyam froze, his gaze turning to his younger sister.

"Yes. Exactly that, Kiri," he replied, his voice filled with a hint of disbelief. "It was like… she was calling out to me in some way, as if our souls were somehow intertwined."

Kiri's excitement grew, and she couldn't contain her joy. “Eywa has blessed you with a gift, brother. Rarely do mates feel such a deep soul connection on the first time they meet."

"Soul connection? That’s love at first sight, huh?" Jake interjected, his eyes glinting as he glanced at Neytiri with a knowing smile. "Sound familiar?"

Neytiri's stern façade softened as she smiled back, unable to hide her amusement. "Yes, it does," she admitted with a fondness in her voice. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of understanding and warmth as she looked at her eldest son. "Neteyam, ma’itan, if you truly feel this connection, then it may be a sign from Eywa herself. The steps you take next will be entirely up to you."

"It's just like those stories we've heard, bro. Soulmates and destined love,” Lo’ak chimed in. “You and her, together, guided by Eywa's hand," he smirked, clasping his hands together and making kissy faces. Neteyam huffed, shaking his head.

"Yeah. It might be like that," he admitted with a touch of bashfulness.

"But let's not get carried away with the dramatics,” Neteyam sighs, snapping himself back to reality. “I still want to get to know her first. I want to take it slow.”

“Slow, huh? Is that what you call asking her to mate with you on the spot?" Lo’ak laughed.

“Lo’ak!” Neytiri hissed, glaring at him disapprovingly.

"I did not ask her to mate with me on the spot!" Neteyam snaps through gritted teeth, his voice rising slightly in embarrassment.

Lo'ak's laughter boomed through the air, thoroughly relishing the sight of his older brother's flustered expression. It was a rare occasion for Neteyam to be caught off guard by his teasing, always having a smartass rebut at the tip of his tongue.

"Yeah? Well, it sure looked like it to me," he snickered, his tail swishing back and forth in interest. Neytiri intervened, smacking him upside on the head. Lo’ak winced in response, and nursed the spot where his mother had hit him.

"Ow, ow, I get it," he groaned, lying flat on the floor. "I'll stop."

"Alright. ‘Nough of that. Come on," Jake said, with a chuckle, huddling everyone close. Once they had formed a circle, he began to address them, his tone taking on a more serious note, "Listen, I really need you kids to be on your best behavior. And I mean it."

Jake shifts his gaze to his eldest son, “Neteyam becoming a candidate for future Olo'eyktan already stirred things up enough. And I don’t even need to tell you just how messy that’s going to be.”

Neteyam heaved out a tense sigh, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. “Sorry, sir.”

“We’re gonna get through this,” Jake continued, dismissing Neteyam’s apology, his voice carrying a tone of reassurance. “Together.”

Neytiri moved closer to her husband, gently placing her head over Jake's shoulder. “What does your father always say?” Neytiri murmured, her voice soft and soothing.

“Sullys stick together…”

“Little more feeling this time!"

“Sullys stick together!”

As the night falls and the stars twinkle in the dark sky, they finally retire to their new sleeping arrangements. Neteyam lays on his makeshift bed, a woven mat made out of palm and leaves, his mind abuzz with thoughts. He gazes out of the hut's opening, where he can catch a glimpse of you in the moonlight, going about your duties as Tsahìk, checking up on a few of the sick and injured in their huts.

Your silhouette against the moonlit backdrop mesmerizes him, and he finds himself drawn to your presence like a moth to a flame. As you notice his gaze, you offer him a reassuring nod before continuing your duties. His heart swells with warmth at the acknowledgment.

With the comfort of your presence lingering in his mind, Neteyam turns onto his back, feeling a sense of peace settle over him. The gentle rustle of palm leaves outside and the distant sounds of the forest lull him into a state of relaxation. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into a deep and restful sleep.

The next morning, the village awakens early. The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange as the sun begins to rise over the mountains. Knocking gently at the side of their hut, you had called for them before the sun could even fully emerge, offering to show them more of the village and its surrounding wonders.

You lead them through the mountains, showing Kiri, Lo'ak, Tuk, and Neteyam the ways of life in this breathtaking terrain. The trees stand tall and proud, similar to those in the forest they once called home, but here they bear a different kind of energy, surrounded by majestic mountains which hold ancient tales of the ancestors before them. The group walks amidst the trees, their senses heightened by the subtle sounds of wildlife and the fresh scent of earth.

As you lead them further, you come across vast rice fields, a breathtaking sight of lush green beauty stretching as far as the eye can see. The fields seem to come alive with the morning sunlight. The stalks of rice sway gently in the breeze, creating a mesmerizing dance, captivating the forest Na’vi.

Amidst the exploration, Neteyam's keen eyes spot a group of mountain climbers in the distance, scaling a rocky hill.

"What are they doing?" he questions, his curiosity piqued.

"They're practicing for the coming-of-age ceremony," you say, your gaze following the climbers. Neteyam's curiosity turns into intrigue, and he listens intently as you begin to explain.

"It's an ascent to the clouded peak," you share, pointing to a towering mountain in the distance, its summit shrouded in mist. "At dawn, the candidates gather at the base. It is the tallest mountain in the region and they must set out on a journey to reach the summit."

Lo’ak whistles, grimacing while he sizes up the daunting landscape before him. "We have to climb that?" he asks incredulously.

“Only if you want to. Your Omatikayan ikinimaya should be enough for you to be recognized in the clan,” you assure him with a pat on his back.

Neteyam stays silent for the next few minutes, his faraway gaze directed towards the rocky mountain. Suddenly, he startles everyone by speaking up, the words slipping from his mouth causing your eyes to rip wide open.

"I want to partake in it," he says, his voice steady and resolute. The sudden declaration shakes everyone, and his siblings turn their attention fully to him, waiting to hear his reasoning.

You too gaze up at him in disbelief. "Are you certain?" you ask, wanting to ensure that he fully comprehends the challenges that lie ahead. “This is no simple feat—”

"I am strong," Neteyam interrupts, sounding a little harsher than he had intended, but it was important to him that you knew of his abilities. "I will be able to train for it well."

Your milky eyes drop to his battle-hardened body, sweeping over his broad shoulders and the ridges of his defined muscles, glistening softly in the sun’s glow. The scars etched on his skin tell tales of past battles and trials, a testament to his experience. Neteyam holds his ground, finding himself flexing subconsciously under your gaze.

"I know you are strong," you retort.

"Yes—"

"But the warriors of the forest are different from those of the mountains," you cut him off with a pointed stare. "It is not just about physical strength; you will have to learn how they train, their techniques, and their ways of life," you begin to move towards him, a challenging look in your eyes. "It is difficult to fill a cup that is already full."

Neteyam's jaw clenches, his gaze unwavering. "Then I will empty my cup. I will adapt," he asserts with passion. "I will prove myself not just to your people but to myself as well. If I am to be chief, I have to embrace your ways."

"Pretty sure you just want to impress her, bro," Lo’ak quips. Neteyam scowls at his remark and, in a swift motion, drives his elbow straight into his younger brother's side. At the impact, Lo’ak immediately folds, nursing his side as his face contorts in pain. “Fuck!”

Ignoring Lo’ak, Neteyam turns back to you, his expression steadfast and unwavering. In that moment, he feels an overwhelming longing to prove himself to you, to earn your admiration and love based on his own merits, not just because of any preconceived notions or expectations.

His determination shines like a beacon, and his sincerity tugs at your heartstrings. It's as if he's baring his soul before you, showing you the depths of his desire to be someone you can truly respect and admire.

With a hum, you settle back, your tail flickering behind you in intrigue. If the rumors carried by the wind from clan to clan about him were to be believed, then you should have known he would want to partake in the ceremony.

Such a bold spirit, evident in those golden eyes of his every time he spoke. The mountains around you seemed to echo with approval, as if Eywa herself was acknowledging his resolve.

"If you are that eager, then I will teach you," you say, the decision firm in your heart. It feels as if a weight is lifted off his shoulders at your acceptance of his offer. Neteyam hums, trying to maintain a stoic expression but the telltale flicks of his ears and tail betray his anticipation and eagerness.

"Do not be mistaken, though. I will not baby you," you add with a daring lilt in your voice. You begin to walk away, the swing of your hips matching the sway of your tail. "Let us hope you can keep up, mighty warrior."

That seemed to only fuel the fire within him further.

Neteyam’s chest rumbles in a deep laugh, a fanged grin stretching across his cheeks. "Yes, ma’am.”

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

see you in the next episode where the reader works her future husband's ass to the ground xoxo

TAGLIST: @rainbowsocks @milktealvrr @strawberri-blonde

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luxe-pauvre · 1 year

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In that predicament, if I'm lucky, I'll remember the observation, usually attributed to Joan Baez, that "action is the antidote to despair." People tend to quote this in the context of political or environmental activism, but it applies to everything else, too: an overfilled inbox, a cluttered garage, an intimidating creative project or overdue tax return. If you can get yourself over the gap between knowing what you need to do and taking an action, things can only get better from there. Which means that at least the nature of the immediate challenge is clear: not to "become more productive" or "get motivated" or "make a plan for the month" or something like that, but just to do one thing to address whatever situation you're in. […] If you can approach your daily life in this way for a while – as a sequence of momentary, self-contained, eminently doable actions, rather than as an arduous matter of chipping away at enormous challenges – you might notice something profound, which is that, in fact, this is all you ever need to do. You can make your way through life exclusively in this manner. (As E. L. Doctorow said of writing, it's "like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.") And not just that: actually, it's all you ever could do. There is no achievement, in the history of human civilisation, that has ever been accomplished by any means other than as a sequence of doable actions. In the end, it isn't really a question of "breaking big projects down into small chunks." It's more a matter of seeing that "big projects" are nothing but psychological constructs, quasi-illusory entities summoned into existence by taking a particular view of what our lives really consist of – which is moments, and the actions that unfold in them. After all, in any given moment, we're never actually "working on a big project" or "addressing a major challenge" or anything similar. We're always just taking an action. And then another. And another.

Oliver Burkeman, How to get out of a rut

#Oliver Burkeman #How to get out of a rut

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hyunsvngs · 9 months

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𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 - hwang hyunjin x gn!afab reader

wc: 5.3k

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: casual sex w no strings attached, reader is afab but no gender-specific language/pronouns are used, background reader x minho, smut warnings under the cut.

synopsis: it was well established now that you were fucking your way around the frat. you hadn't intended to make hyunjin your next victim, but when you end up alone together, it seems like the perfect opportunity.

a/n: part four of our fratboy series, hot bitch summer!!! i really hope you all enjoy this bc i'm completely in love with our sweet, sensitive, artsy, pervy fratboy hyunjin <3

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: swearing, nude painting and photography, mutual masturbation, cumswapping, casual sex, a little bit of bickering, mentions of male x male sexual activity, very poetic descriptions of many types of genitals, hyunjin is a pervy little boy but still very lovely.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You didn't know if you'd ever seen the frat house this quiet. Even with the red solo cups littering the coffee table, hoodies and shirts strewn over furniture, clear remnants of a recent rager, the place was almost peaceful. That was probably because it was mostly empty, though. Minho and Felix were helping out at the dance studio they frequented, Chan and Changbin were at the gym. Jisung was napping, which contributed to most of the peace and quiet. Jeongin was away visiting family, and you had no idea where Seungmin was - that man remained a mystery.

Hyunjin, however, was lounging on the couch in the lounge, sketchbook in his arms. It appeared that he would be your target for tonight. You leaned on the back of the sofa, looking over the boy's shoulder. "What are you drawing?"

Hyunjin yelped, clutching his sketchpad to his chest. "Jesus, Y/N! You scared the life out of me. I didn’t even know you were here tonight."

You couldn't help but laugh at the absolute terror that had flashed in his eyes when he looked back at you. You really hadn't meant to ambush him - honestly - but it had been entertaining nonetheless. "Sorry, Hyunjin," you apologised, not sounding very sorry at all. You reached over his shoulder and tapped his book. "Can I see?"

"Um. No." He clutched the notebook closer to his chest. “Not this one.”

You rested your forearms on the back of the couch, leaning next to him. "How come? Are you shy?"

"I'm not shy." He was looking ahead, but you didn't need to see him. You could hear the eye-roll in his voice.

"Show me then!" you insisted, prodding his shoulder gently.

"This one is private, okay?"

"Private?" You fake-gasped. "Hyunjin, are you drawing dirty things? Are you a porn artist?"

"What? No!" He squirmed at the accusation.

"You're drawing nasty things, aren't you Hyunjin! It's not hentai, is it? Tentacle porn?" In all honesty, you wouldn't have cared, or judged him at all. But it was funny to play with him.

“Obviously not! I’m not Jisung.”

You snorted at his quip. “Okay, well… are there any drawings I can see?”

He pondered for a moment. “I guess so. You really wanna see?”

“Of course.” You knew Hyunjin was studying fine art, and you were aware that he spent the majority of his time in the makeshift art studio he called a bedroom, but you hadn’t really seen much of his work.

When he led you up there, you immediately understood why he’d want to spend his hours here. It was a cosy respite from the chaos that so regularly consumed the rest of the house. Strings of fairy lights came alive at the touch of a button, casting a warm glow on the space. An easel sat in the corner of the room, and most surfaces were lightly cluttered with various art supplies; notebooks, paintbrushes, pencils, as well as a few completed works. There was a vase of what looked like lavender; you breathed in and the scent confirmed it, sweet and gentle.

“Take a seat,” Hyunjin murmured, before rifling through a pile of books. He tossed one into your lap as you sat on his bed, although you were a bit more preoccupied with watching him move around the room. He did everything so elegantly, despite his extra-long limbs; it wasn’t hard to tell he was a dancer. He sifted through a box of records, his fingers flipping through them deftly, before setting up a pale blue record player. You turned your attention to the book in your lap.

It seemed to be full of off-handed sketches. They were absolutely gorgeous, but you could tell he’d done them absent-mindedly as he observed the world around him. There was one of Felix and Jisung, cuddling on the couch. A sight you’d seen many times before, you had no doubt it had turned to play-fighting before Hyunjin had even finished his drawing. You flipped the page. A sketch of Changbin curling a weight, his bicep bulging - if Hyunjin had followed the man to the gym just to observe and draw him, you truly understood. You couldn’t help but gasp, as you turned the page once more. You and Minho, standing in the kitchen together, his arms wrapped around you as you beamed. You remembered the moment. He’d been attempting to make lunch, but you’d been rather successful at distracting him.

“Hyunjin, these are so beautiful,” you told him honestly, your heart swelling at the charm with which he captured such everyday moments.

He thanked you, looking a little bashful.

You took a break from flipping through his drawings to survey him for a moment.. He was different when he was sober. Most of the time you'd spent with him, he was near-blackout drunk - utterly white-girl wasted. He was the life of the party, really. Loud, giggly, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Maybe he was just one of those people who took some time to warm up to someone, you considered. You didn't doubt this, but beyond that…

He just seemed so gentle. So sensitive, so sweet.

"You're… not the typical fratboy, are you?"

Hyunjin looked over at you from the other side of the room. His eyes were so round, so innocent-looking. "What do you mean?"

You paused, choosing your words carefully. "You're just so lovely, Hyunjin." He blushed, looking away from you and resuming what he was doing - lighting a candle? - but he didn't speak. "Some of the other boys… great guys, don't get me wrong. But they have such fuckboy energy. Not you, though, Hyunjin. You're so sweet."

"Hmm," he hummed, appearing to think on your words. "I guess so. But…" he trailed off.

"But?" you asked. "I don't believe there's a but. Not with you, Hwang Hyunjin."

His voice was barely above a whisper, hardly louder than the scratching of his pencil. "I'm still a man, Y/N."

You blinked. "Well, I've noticed that."

Hyunjin shifted uncomfortably. "I'm just saying… men are all the same. Even if some seem nicer."

You placed the book on his bed, your brow furrowed as you tried to figure out what the fuck he was trying to say. "What are you getting at, Hyunjin?"

"Don't judge a book by its cover, okay? Let's leave it at that."

You hummed. "I don't want to leave it at that. I feel like you're hiding something now, and I wanna know what it is." Hyunjin stayed quiet, although you saw his jaw tense, noticed his cheeks redden. "So, if I shouldn't judge a book by its cover… does that mean you're not the sweet, kind, artsy boy I thought you were?"

"Well, no. I am those things. I'm just… other things, too."

“Other things?” you asked. You watched him light another candle. The cogs in your brain turned a mile a minute, trying to read the situation. The fairy lights, the candles, the record turning quietly. It all felt so sensual. He wasn’t trying to set the mood, was he? In all fairness, the boys had been constantly joking about how you were fucking your way around the whole frat. And it wasn’t even really a joke. You decided to test the waters. “Hyunjin, do you mean… you’re a little dirty?”

He paused for a moment. “I suppose so.”

“You’re a horrible pervy man? Who brought me up to his room to have his way with me?”

Hyunjin jumped. “What? No! I brought you up here to hang out. And look at my drawings. I’m not trying to take advantage of you!”

You partly believed him. You chuckled. “What if I like dirty pervy boys, though?”

“Fine,” Hyunjin mumbled. He picked up the book he had been drawing in downstairs, a plain black, very nondescript sketchpad. He brought it to you, dropping it in your lap before going to the chair by his easel, sitting down and looking away from you. You looked at him expectantly, but soon realised you weren’t going to get anything more from him.

You shrugged and opened up the book.

Oh. He really was a dirty boy.

You'd never in your life seen such a varied array of vulvas. Drawings, paintings, doodles. Shaved, trimmed, hairy. Innies, outies. Small, button-like clits, more enlarged ones. He didn't seem to discriminate at all - the man was pussy-obsessed. You flipped through a few pages, admiring the pussies like a field of flowers. Hyunjin's non-vagina art was beautiful, but he'd clearly found his calling here.

“So you are a porn artist?”

Hyunjin glared at you. “It’s not porn,” he said scornfully. “It’s art.”

"But, you must watch a ton of porn? For research?" The air quotes you put around research earned you a scathing gaze.

"I don't watch porn at all," Hyunjin stated with a roll of his eyes. "And ninety-nine percent of the time, when guys say that it's a lie. But I'm the one percent, promise. I mainly use erotic photography, for references. Or paint from memory."

"From memory? You must be some kinda pussy expert."

"Well, you're a dick expert, from what I've heard," Hyunjin murmured, just a little too loud to be under his breath.

You couldn't help but cackle. "God, you're a bitch."

Hyunjin smirked, before reassuring you, "I'm not judging, by the way. By all means, keep going."

"Thank you for giving me your permission, Hyunjin."

"Not what I meant and you know it."

You shrugged, and returned to flipping through the book. "I like this one," you mumbled. The model's legs were parted, dainty fingers spreading their labia. Stretch marks streaked across their inner thighs, pubic hair wild and untamed. These drawings, they were all so real. It made you wonder what you'd look like, through his eyes. How would he draw your lips, what would your clitoris look like sketched out by his hand? How would he look, as he painted your most intimate area? Would he study you closely? Would he lick his lips in concentration, would he peer at you as he tried to envision how you felt, tasted, smelled? Would he touch himself, later, thinking about what's between your legs?

You decided to cut to the chase.

"Have you ever had a live model before?"

Hyunjin looked like he was about to combust. He looked at you, mouth agape, and you could tell he was trying to determine whether he'd heard you correctly. "I've… I've never had the opportunity."

You smiled at him sweetly. You loved the way he made you feel as though you were bestowing a blessed opportunity upon him. You had blown his mind with the mere implication that you might let him see you naked.

"Do you want a live model?"

He nodded, still looking absolutely bewildered that you'd even offer. You didn't know why he was so surprised - you didn't exactly have a representation as a prude. You had openly fucked three of his friends in the last week, and here he was, utterly mystified by the idea of simply looking at your pussy.

You laughed at him, gently. "C'mon then, artist. Get your easel."

"Right - yeah. Let me just - get everything set up."

Hyunjin turned, and you saw how hurried his actions were as he rooted through drawers, gathering his supplies. You supposed you'd better get yourself ready, too.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he told you, raking through a box of pencils.

"I want to." God, you really did. The rumours were true; you were, in fact, looking to conquer the entire fraternity.

Hyunjin picked up his easel from the corner of the room, and finally turned back to you. "Oh. You're… naked."

You looked up at him from the bed, where you perched on the edge with your legs crossed. "Well. You're painting my pussy."

He looked absolutely lost. "I didn't expect to see your… I didn't know you'd take your shirt off."

You chuckled. "What am I, Winnie the fucking Pooh? Anyways, I didn't think you'd be so surprised by nudity, given the fact you draw genitals as a hobby."

Hyunjin merely nodded, before setting the canvas on the easel and spreading numerous pencils and what looked like oil pastels on a small table beside it.

"Hey, Hyunjin. Look at me for a second." He did, hesitantly. "Relax a little, okay? It's all fine."

He nodded again. "I know." He didn't sound sure. He was clearly nervous, which was understandable. But you wondered what it was, exactly, about the situation that was stressing him. Was he overthinking whether this would lead to sex? He wanted it, you could tell. Surely he knew that you wanted it too? Maybe you'd need to make your intentions clearer.

You sat quietly as Hyunjin worked. He brought a small lamp over, positioning it beside the bed. You watched as he tied his hair into a messy bun at the nape of his neck, gathering a few strands that had escaped and tucking them behind his ears. He was so pretty, even when he wasn't all dolled up.

"Okay," Hyunjin breathed. "Ready when you are."

"Where do you want me?" you asked, and yet again, he looked ready to explode.

"Anywhere's fine. As long as I can see it - you." He cleared his throat. "As long as you're comfortable. That's the most important thing."

You leaned back on your elbows, and slowly spread your legs. Hyunjin looked upon you, mesmerised. His eyes were sparkling. This was how a man would look at a work of art, Michelangelo's David perhaps. This was how a man would gaze out across Nepal, having reached Everest's peak. This was how a man would look upon a real, honest-to-god miracle, a biblically accurate angel come to deliver the news that he is the messiah. That was how Hwang Hyunjin looked at a pussy. God, he really was a perv.

After minutes of scrutiny, during which you'd never felt so fucking visible, he turned to the easel and began his sketch.

He spoke up again, after a few minutes of working. “I don’t mean to overstep, but…”

“You just spent at least three straight minutes staring directly into my vagina,” you stated. “Say whatever you wanna say.”

“What’s actually going on between you and Minho?”

You wished you knew how to answer that. “I guess it’s hard to explain. We haven’t really discussed anything properly.” You thought for a few moments. “I’m sleeping around, obviously, but at the end of each day, I go back to him. That’s all there is to it, really.”

He peered over at you, curious. “So, it’s true then?”

You looked back at him. “What?”

“You’re sleeping your way around the frat?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“And you’re having fun?”

“Well, obviously. You’re all hot as fuck,” you admitted outright.

Hyunjin nodded. “I get it. We’re a pretty fun group of guys to fuck. You haven’t fucked Seungmin yet, right?”

You blinked at him. “No. Not yet… to be honest, I don’t know if Seungmin’s even interested.”

Hyunjin waved a hand at you, dismissing your concerns. “Seungmin’s just like that, don’t worry. Anyways, look forward to it - that’ll be a fun one.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. That seemed like a strange thing for a man to say about his friend. Unless… “You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Hyunjin.”

“Duh,” Hyunjin said, as if it was obvious. “You said it yourself, we’re all hot as fuck. Most of us fuck around with each other, from time to time. It’d be a wasted opportunity if we didn’t, really.”

You took a moment to absorb this. You couldn’t believe neither Felix nor Jisung had ever mentioned this to you. Traitorous bastards. They’d been fucking around with their stupid hot friends this whole time, and hadn’t even invited you to watch, or join? They were sick in the head, both of them.

You went quiet, letting Hyunjin sketch.

There were many beautiful things in this world. Sensual, erotic, carnally beautiful things. The curve of an erection, the tightly-wound curls at its base, heavy hanging balls which almost looked like a heart, when caught in the right position. But this? Hyunjin, leaning over his easel, chewing on his lip as he deliberated over the perfect way to capture you on page. This was something else. This was beauty redefined.

It occured to you that it was impossible to hide anything from him. This took wearing your heart on your sleeve to a new level. He was privy to every one of your desires; he'd see liquid arousal drip from your hole, he'd watch as your clit slowly swelled. And if he took a moment to look away from your pussy (although he was so completely entranced that you didn't know if he'd be capable of it) he may even notice your nipples hardening, your pupils blown out with desire. He'd see just how much you wanted, needed him.

Although, by the looks of it, he was starting to get rather needy himself. His sweatpants were tented, though he was clearly trying to hide it, forearm draped over his crotch. You watched intently, trying to gain as much intel as you could from your obscured view. It looked big - that was about all you could gather.

"Maybe you should just take those off," you chanced.

Hyunjin looked at you, surprised.

"Your trousers. They look like they're getting a little uncomfortable. And maybe it'd be less weird if we were both naked anyways?"

Hyunjin put his pencil down, giving you an accusatory look. "You just want to see me naked."

You grinned brazenly. "Obviously."

Hyunjin laughed. "You are so shameless. Fine, have it your way."

Satisfied, you watched as he pulled off his shirt. Vast planes of tanned skin revealed themselves to you, and you fought not to drool. He was far from the muscular beast Changbin was, but he was surprisingly toned. Curved biceps, lightly defined abs, sweet little pecs with the loveliest pink nipples. So many places to kiss, lick, suck. And that was before he'd even taken his trousers off.

He stood, and as he tugged down his trousers, you could've sworn that his dick sprung back up with enough force to knock you out. You kind of wanted it to knock you out. It had a beautiful curve to it, not quite as thick as some that you'd seen recently - your mind flitted back to Changbin and his coke-can cock - but it was still undoubtedly long enough to ruin your pussy. And so fucking pretty. Your eyes scanned him slowly; the tip was the prettiest shade of pink, the long smooth shaft, the perfectly round, clean-shaven balls. He was perfect.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked, snapping you out of your staring. He didn't meet your gaze, but you could tell he wasn't too shy. He knew how beautiful he was, and he was used to people staring.

You simply smirked at him. "Keep drawing, boy."

You felt your clit begin to throb - you couldn’t help it. You burned under his gaze each time he looked back at you studiously. You knew what Hyunjin was like, with his art. Although you were both clearly desperate, he would continue drawing for hours, putting off the inevitable pleasure that you both craved, in pursuit of his next masterpiece before he let you both indulge. If you wanted his touch, you would have to intervene.

It took him a surprising amount of time to notice that you were stroking your clit. He was peering at the canvas, eyes narrowed. You could tell he took his craft seriously. It was admirable, but incredibly frustrating when you needed him to just turn his head ever so slightly.

"Oh."

There it was.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking at you with a blank stare. He looked you in the eyes, rather than in the crotch.

"Enjoying the view," you repeated, inserting a finger and spreading the wetness across your clit.

Hyunjin turned back to the canvas, apparently unperturbed, but you saw his dick twitch. You had him. You continued to circle your clit gently, letting out a soft moan as you did so.

Hyunjin snickered under his breath. "Screw you," he whispered, his hand wrapping around his length gently. Still, though, he didn't stop drawing. You watched as he stroked himself, torturously slow, head slowly disappearing into his fist before reappearing once more, all the while leaning over the easel.

And you'd thought Minho had been a master of restraint. Hyunjin was different, though. He wasn't hiding how much he needed this. He was perfectly happy to show you his rock hard, leaking cock. More than happy to jerk off languidly before you. But he was also making it clear that he wasn't going to rush into anything. He'd sit there and paint all night, if you let him.

Of course you wouldn't let him.

"Oh, put the fucking pencil down."

He met this with less resistance than you expected, and didn't hesitate, even for a moment. "Fine, but I really do want to finish this painting soon." He turned in his seat to face you, fucking into his fist as he watched you.

You shuddered under your own touch, fingers swiping over your bundle of nerves and sending jolts throughout your body. Your pleasure felt so heightened, as you watched the man before you. His hands were gorgeous, veins popping out as he stroked himself, long fingers wrapped around his member. His balls swung gracefully as he did so - how did he do everything with such elegance?

You thought about how he might feel inside you. His dick was so long, you knew he’d hit all the spots you needed him to. You knew he’d be princely and refined, even while fucking you. Even when he reaches his peak, when cum spurts out of that gorgeous pink tip, even if he lost his composure… he’d do it with poise.

You could hardly take it any more. “I need you, Hyunjin.”

“But I’m having so much fun watching,” he said, his voice hoarse - he sounded so fucked out already.

You groaned. “You’ll have more fun fucking me, and you know it.”

Hyunjin grinned as he shook his head, but showed no resistance. “C’mere, baby,” he murmured, his long, slender fingers gripping you by the hips and dragging you towards the edge of the bed. “You ready for it?”

“More than ready, fuck, please.”

Hyunjin pushed the tip of his dick inside you, ever so slowly. You sighed happily; there was that feeling you craved. Centimetre by centimetre, he entered you deeper, gradually filling you up more and more. Eventually, when his hips ground into yours, when he was fully buried inside you, he let out the sweetest whine you’d ever heard.

You couldn’t help but grin at the sound. “That feel good, pretty boy?”

He nodded, eyebrows furrowed as he fixated on the feeling. The slow pace was agonising, the drag of his cock against your g-spot positively electric. He was fucking you as if it was an art form, as if his dick was a paintbrush and you were his canvas. And, fuck, he was a master of his craft.

“Legs up, baby. I need to get deeper.” His voice was low, strained. You did as he instructed, hooking your ankles over his shoulders. “God, that’s good.”

Had anyone ever fucked you this deeply before? You weren’t sure. Although, to be fair, you weren’t certain you knew your own name, at that point. All you could see were stars, and the angel of the man above you. He pulled himself all the way out, until the head of his dick was barely inside you, before plunging back inside, slowly, slowly. Each time, he pressed up against your cervix, and it hurt, but fuck, it felt so good.

The room was hot, the air heavy. Sweat was dripping from Hyunjin’s forehead and landing on your skin. You were consumed with his scent, lavender and fresh cotton, You were covered in him, you felt his touch on every inch of your body, surrounded by soft moans from both yourself and him.

His hands explored your body as he fucked you. They tasted your thighs, squeezing gently. They caressed your hips, your waist, your hips, your chest. He handled you so gently, treating you with the utmost care. You could picture him so clearly, manoeuvring a delicate statue, arranging flowers in a vase, manipulating clay on a pottery wheel. He treated you with the exact same respect and admiration.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece, babe.” He thrusted hard, but still so slow. “So fucking beautiful.”

Hyunjin looked down to the site where your bodies joined. He was enthralled, eyes fixated on the sight of himself disappearing inside you.

“Can I - shit -” His hands were shaking slightly, as he caressed your stomach. “Can I get out my camera? Just - fuck - just to take some reference photos. I need to paint you over and over, please-” His words trailed off into a whine.

You nodded. “Of course.”

He pulled out, and you gasped, feeling a sudden emptiness.

“Hurry,” you whimpered, as he gathered his equipment. He returned to you, kneeling before you and capturing the sight before him. You felt yourself clenching around nothing, desperate to have him inside you once more. He didn’t leave you waiting too long fortunately, sliding his dick back inside you, snapping more photos as he did so, still moving at that lazy, unhurried tempo. It drove you crazy. It felt amazing, of course. He was hitting all the right places, sending shivers down your spine and spreading butterflies throughout your tummy. But with a dick that perfect, you wanted him to thoroughly destroy you.

“Put your fucking camera away and fuck me properly,” you urged him.

Hyunjin smirked down at you. “Minho wasn’t lying. You really do get bratty and impatient.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking rail me before I throw you on this bed and take things into my own hands.”

Hyunjin laughed, shaking his head as he put his camera safely on his desk. “Relax, hon, I’ll fuck you.” He returned to the bed, looming over you with a teasing smile. “Are you sure you’re ready? You sure you can take it?”

“So help me god, Hwang Hyunjin, if you don’t-”

Hyunjin swiftly cut you off, thrusting deep inside you. Your words trailed off into a high-pitched squeak. Sassy as he was, he did as he was told; he fucked you hard, pounding into you powerfully. One of his hands gripped your thigh, holding it close to him, the other tweaking your nipple, sending yet more bliss running through your system.

“You’re so fucking tight, hon,” Hyunjin rasped. So you’d heard.

“Keep fucking me, Hyunjin - fuck me harder!” You gazed upon his slender frame, tanned skin glistening with sweat. Maybe it was just because he was fucking you so well, but you could’ve sworn he was a real live angel, an almighty being. No person was this beautiful - no human being fucked this well.

“Fuck, I don’t know how long I can last like this,” Hyunjin grunted. He had a dark look in his eye.

“Cum then,” you encouraged him, “Give me your cum, baby.”

He shook his head. “Not until you cum first.” What a gentleman.

His thumb went to your clit, rubbing gentle circles into it, the perfect amount of pressure. It was pushing you over the edge, embarrassingly quickly. You felt your heart rate rise, your skin begin to tingle. Your climax was approaching - you felt it throughout your whole body.

“Hyunjin - Hyunjin!”

“That’s it, baby, let go,” he coaxed you.

“I’m cumming!” With your announcement, it crashed over you like a wave. It exploded out from your core, white heat shooting through your entire body, coursing through your veins. You distantly heard yourself babbling Hyunjin’s name, although you couldn’t say you were quite lucid enough to be aware of it. All you knew were the fireworks spreading from your pussy, sparks erupting, setting you alight.

“You’re clenching around me so tight,” Hyunjin whined. “Shit - Y/N!”

He pulled out, gripping his dick at its base, crying out as he painted your pussy, shooting his cum across your folds. You watched intently as the hot white spurts landed on your clit, your lips, dripping down towards your asshole.

“There we go, baby,” you sighed, catching your breath.

Hyunjin kneeled before you, also panting with exertion. He leaned in, locking his eyes with yours before licking a gentle stripe across your clit. He hummed. “Tastes good. Wanna taste?” You nodded, wide-eyed. He delved in, licking and sucking, and you moaned at the sensation on your oversensitive parts. He sucked on your clit, swiped his tongue through your folds, spread your cheeks and licked at your asshole. You couldn’t help but squeal.

He stood, leaning over you and gripping your cheeks gently, forcing your mouth open. You stuck out your tongue compliantly, waiting for the salty substance to reach you. He allowed it to dribble from his tongue slowly, landing in your mouth.

Hyunjin pulled away. “Don’t swallow. Stick out your tongue, let me see.” You complied, and he picked up his camera once more, snapping more shots of you. Your face, this time, rather than your genitals. “Fucking gorgeous,” he whispered.

He put the camera down. “You can swallow now - I know you want to.” He sat on the bed beside you, lounging back, and you cuddled into his side. You watched as he clicked through the photos he’d taken; your dripping wet pussy, his dick teasing your entrance, burying itself inside you. Cum dripping down your clit, decorating you. Your face, eyes hazy, looking beyond fucked-out, tongue coated in the tangy mix of Hyunjin’s cum and spit.

“We should blow this one up and hang it in the hall,” Hyunjin remarked.

You snickered weakly, tired as you slumped against the man. “You boys would like that, huh? You’re all obsessed with me.”

“And for good reason. I see what the hype is about.” Hyunjin kissed your forehead softly. It was so tender - this was a no-strings-attached hook-up, nobody was under any illusions here. But it seemed that everything he did, every action he carried out towards anyone, was so filled with love.

“Hype? What do you guys say about me, when I’m not here?”

“That would be telling,” Hyunjin responded slyly. “Let’s just say, you’ve gotten some pretty good reviews.”

You yawned. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Who’s next then, hm?” he asked.

“That would be telling,” you responded with a mocking tone. “I’m tired. You want me to stay here tonight, Hyune?”

“It’s okay, hon. Go crawl into Minho’s bed, he should be home soon.”

You sat up, kissing Hyunjin’s pretty, plump lips. “Thank you for giving me a good time tonight, Hyunjin.”

He smiled. “Thank you for being my muse.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

When Minho returned home to find you curled up in his bed, you were barely awake, but still hanging on to your consciousness.

“Hey there, sleepy.”

“Hey, Minho.”

He paused, looking at you, eyes narrowed. “I know that smile. Who have you been with tonight, then?”

You gave him a smug grin. “Guess.”

“Not Jisung again?” He got into bed beside you, looking amused as he wrapped his arms around your frame. “You haven’t even showered, babe. I can smell Hyunjin on you.”

“You’re so good at this game,” you said, your voice slurred with tiredness.

Minho pulled you closer, kissing your neck from behind and making you sigh contentedly. He pulled you closer, and you felt his length press into you from behind - was he getting hard, thinking about you and his friend together? Was he imagining fucking you, with the scent of Hyunjin’s sweat still marking your skin?

He whispered in your ear, confirming your suspicions. “Are you too tired for another round?”

You turned around in his arms, eyes twinkling. “Never.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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prettieinpink · 7 months

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IMPROVING YOUR LIFE ASPECTS: THE LITTLE HABITS

Hello girlies and genitals, I am aware that my posts haven’t been up to my standard lately but thank you so much for 220+ followers. I’m so grateful for each and every one of you to be apart of this blog and I wish for us to grow into the best versions of ourselves.

Today, I have something special to celebrate: a collaboration with everyone’s favourite, honey! ( @honeytonedhottie )Thank you honey for this idea of a collab, which has been so fun talking and it’s been a pleasure working with you, I hope we do another one in the future. If you haven’t already, go and follow honey(the best decision trust)!

her part of this collab is here ! go read it and follow her yall

GENERAL

habits that are uncategorised or improve multiple aspects of your life <3

Prioritising yourself. Put yourself over anyone else, even if it effects them. I know it’s harsh, but put on your oxygen mask before helping others.

Establishing routines in your daily life. Morning, evening, study, workout etc, we humans thrive on routines.

Start implementing small things to look forward to during the day. Whether it’s drinking a hot beverage before bed, or going out on a walk in the sun, just having these things makes it easier for us to get through the day.

Curate your social media, ensure what you are feeding your mind is nourishing it, not destroying it. + avoid any mental clutter from your feed

Saying positive affirmations to yourself before the day! It’s an nice way to pump yourself up.

Set boundaries. Not only with others, but yourself. Don’t allow yourself to sleep late constantly or have over 8 hours of screen time.

Learn how to say no. Saying no is now considered a powerful tool for someone to have because we then allow the things we do want to come in our lives and guard ourselves from things we don’t want in our lives.

Setting one daily goal! It doesn’t have to be a difficult or challenging one, but preferably something you feel uncomfortable about doing.

EDUCATION

Being educated is the most powerful asset nowadays, besides, learning is the best beauty regimen!

Reading a few news articles a day, being updated with the latest news in your country and community is a great advantage in general and a way to stimulate your mind

Reading paperback/hard copy books is another great way to stimulate your mind without scrolling endlessly. You learn new experiences and ideas, and gain more empathy for others.

Learning another language! This is extremely useful because when we learn it, we stimulate another part of our brain that is usually inactive + a great thing to put on resumes or applications.

Having high quality sleep actually helps with long term memory and sustaining everything you’ve learnt in the day. 6-8 hours in an ideal number of sleep.

Taking regular breaks which are productive,this is so important for sustaining your motivation and avoiding burnout. E.g going out for a walk, meditation, Journalling

Spending a few hours a day without relying on electronic devices. Social media and more will put so much mental clutter in your head, being away from it allows for mental clarity.

Doing focus meditations before doing any deep work. This allows you to stay on task for much longer and rids of any mental clutter.

Talking to others who have more expertise than you and listening, but you do not have to agree with them, it’s just valuable to have another person’s perspective and experience.

Challenge yourself daily and start being comfortable with feeling uncomfortable. Research about topics you dislike, do things you struggle at at least once a week.

PERSONALITY

Being charming, but still being down to earth to yourself while maintaining good relationships with others allows for happiness + harmony within you.

Sharpen up your vocabulary and learn to pronounce words that are difficult. People who are clear and concise speakers are automatically magnetic.

Learning how to use more advanced words in daily conversations, it gives off a more sophisticated and educated vibe to others.

Be passionate about the things and people you love, even if looked down upon by others. Trust, because everything that you love will come in abundance.

Making an effort to truly listen and understand someone. Engage with them, ask open ended questions and maintaining open body language. People will be so much more interested about who you are as a person.

Be genuine. Not only to others, but also yourself. People naturally gravitate to those who know themselves and their values.

Being truly kind to others. Always lend out a helping hand, even if you know they wouldn’t have done the same for you. Whatever you put out, will come back.

Relating to the previous point, don’t be afraid to ask for help from others. While you should strive to be independent, allow yourself to receive and be provided for.

Work towards being confident. Not only in your physical appearance but also your abilities, your standing in life and your environment. The only validation you should get is from you!

Smile, even if you’re not in the mood for it, smiling actually boosts our mood and the moods of others + it gives off more approachable vibes.

Start complimenting others, even if you do not believe that compliment yourself. We make ourselves more approachable and kinder to others, but it also will change our mind to be more positive and accepting.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Keep up with that beautiful, sexy, cute, perfect face babes. Make looking yourself in the mirror your favourite pastime and bless others with the privilege of seeing you.

Your smile is the best part about yourself. Brush those pearly whites, use mouthwash and floss. If really nesscessary use a teeth serum.

Do yoga and stretches to improve your posture. You’ll notice different parts of your body improving, like your jaw, hump neck etc.

Start nose breathing. A small one for sure, but it can make or break you in the long run.

Sleep on your back, your mouth is closed so you don’t breath through it and it helps with symmetry of your face.

Create a beauty planner. Plan what you want to do for yourself, whether it’s at home or done professionally, plan on what days you do it, the products you use, the vibe you’re going for etc

Create a closet you feel confident in. The l rarest and expensive thing you can wear is confidence in yourself.

Start sanitising your hands regularly. Even if we try, we still touch our face during the day. Instead of trying to fight against it, just make sure your hands are clean.

Smell good, there’s tons of tutorials out there that outline how to be smelling good all day. It makes you feel good and others moods will boost around you.

Change pillowcases like once a week, it can easily get dirty and can affect your skin and hair.

Keep track of your beauty products and when they expire, but if anything of that substance changes even mildly, throw it!

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digitalgirlguide · 2 months

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Beyond Bubble Baths: A Realistic Guide to Wellness, Hygiene Hacks, Energy Cleansing, and the Art of Setting Healthy Boundaries

self-care as we know it has been reduced to retail therapy and splurging on skincare and the the essence of true well-being often gets lost in the noise of buying stuff.

you're not alone, i'm guilty of this too.if i'm sad i buy thing. i'm happy? i buy things.

and not saying that self care can't be buying yourself things because you feel like it but that's not a true reflection of self care.

self-care is a disciplined commitment to becoming the best version of yourself while tuning into your body's needs.

so what does realistic self care look like?

Take a few minutes each morning to set intentions for the day ahead.

practice gratitude by writing 3 things you're grateful for or using some of these prompts:

What are three things you are thankful for as you start your day? Consider the small details that often go unnoticed.

Recall a specific moment from today that brought a smile to your face or warmed your heart. Describe it in detail and express gratitude for that experience.

Think about any unexpected surprises or acts of kindness that came your way. How did they make you feel, and why are you grateful for them?

Before your next meal, reflect on the journey of your food from its source to your plate. Express gratitude for the nourishment it provides your body.

Organizing your day/week:

Plan with Purpose: Start your week with a glance at your calendar or planner. Note any upcoming deadlines, appointments, or social events. (A little prep goes a long way!)

Prioritize with Intent: Identify your top priorities for the week and break them down into manageable tasks. Tackling the most crucial items first ensures a sense of accomplishment. (Check off those big to-dos, and watch the momentum build!)

Time Blocking: Allocate specific time blocks for various activities. This technique helps maintain focus and prevents the day from slipping away in a blur. (Time blocking = your new productivity bestie.)

Flexibility is Key: While planning is essential, leave room for flexibility. Life throws curveballs, and being adaptable ensures you can navigate unexpected changes with grace. (Embrace the spontaneity – it's the spice of life!)

Self-Care Slots: Intentionally carve out moments for self-care throughout the week. Whether it's a short walk, a cozy reading break, or a meditation session, these are non-negotiable appointments with yourself. (Because self-love is a crucial part of productivity.)

Schedule regular social activities to stay connected: Meaningful connections are the backbone of a healthy support system. (Humans need socialization – it's science!)

Hygiene tips for mind and body

Begin your day with a cleansing ritual that extends beyond the physical. Consider practices like meditation (Remember, a cluttered mind can be just as burdensome as a cluttered space.)

Incorporate energy cleansing techniques into your routine, such as using crystals (clear quartz, black tourmaline, amethyst, rose quartz, selenite) to clear negative energy from your surroundings. (Just as we dust and declutter our physical spaces, it's important to cleanse the energetic residue that accumulates throughout our day-to-day lives.)

Recognize the importance of setting boundaries and restricting access to yourself when necessary. (You're not obligated to be constantly available to others, and it's okay to prioritize your own needs and well-being.) Surround yourself with people who uplift and inspire you, who make you feel good and encourage you to be your best self. (Life is too short to waste time on relationships that drain your energy and diminish your spirit.)

Embrace a straightforward yet consistent skincare routine. Cleanse, moisturize, and shield your skin from the sun – simplicity meets effectiveness.

Practice regular handwashing to ward off germs, especially before meals and after restroom visits. (Your hands will thank you, and so will your immune system.)

Simple ways to show up for yourself everyday

Practice self-compassion and forgiveness, recognizing that perfection is an illusion and mistakes are opportunities for growth. (We're all human, and it's okay to stumble along the way.)

Listen to your body's signals and honor its needs, whether that means nourishing yourself with wholesome food, getting regular exercise, or allowing yourself time to rest and recharge. (Your body is your greatest ally and deserves to be treated with kindness and respect.)

Embrace moments of joy and playfulness, indulging in activities that bring you laughter and delight. (Life is meant to be savored, not endured.)

let's reshape the narrative of self-care into a journey of discipline, mindfulness, and attunement to our inner voices.

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idyllic-ghost · 2 years

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a helping hand; mingyu x reader

request: Omg omg omg I just had this scenario in my head where like the reader and Mingyu are co-workers but enemies and do not get along but one day they both take the same subway home and it is unusually crowded and packed and the reader starts to get a bit uncomfortable with so many people and a bit claustrophobic. Mingyu notices it and takes the reader to a corner near the doors and like puts his hand on the wall to support himself while towering himself over her but still maintaining the necessary distance so that she gets some space from the crowd and it's just a very cute moment between them where they don't consider each other enemies for a moment. (requested by anon)

synopsis: your usually bitter coworker becomes your hero during a train ride home

a/n: sorry this one's so short, i have a lot of requests to get through!

warnings: crowds, social anxiety mentions, phobia for dark places

genre: coworker!au

word count: 1.4k

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Please make a copy of these for me, Y/L/N," Mingyu said coldly as he walked past your desk and slammed a stack of papers down in front of you.

You glared daggers into your coworker's back as he walked away, not even paying attention to the stack of papers cluttering up your workspace. For as long as you had worked for this company, Kim Mingyu has been trying to make your life a living hell. He started just a month before you, but for some reason he had decided to take the role of your personal manager.

"Why can't you do it yourself, Mr. Kim?" you asked loudly, making him stop and turn back to you.

"I'm off on my lunch break, and we need a copy of those papers for our next meeting." He shrugged. "It's only logical that you take care of it."

"I think it would be more logical for you to finish all of your duties before going on break," you snapped back.

"You're a part of this team too, Y/L/N," he said. "We're supposed to work together."

With that, he walked away. You sighed and picked up the papers, making sure that they laid in a straight pile instead of a messy mass as he had left it. It was clear that Mingyu wouldn't be making those copies, and it needed to be done. If you tried to complain, it would likely only backfire, so you walked over to the copy machine and got to work. You couldn't wrap your head around what Kim Mingyu had against you. When you first met he seemed nice, social, and definitely not hard on the eyes - but you would never tell anyone that. He seemed like everyone's dream partner, work partner or otherwise, until he started being an asshole to you every chance he got. It wasn't blatant rudeness, but it was enough for you to notice.

Most of the things he did were just petty; like filling his coffee cup more than he should just so that he could take the last of the coffee from you, or making you run errands for the company by strategically putting himself to work before your supervisor could hand him the task. Because they weren't outright harmful acts, you couldn't complain about it without seeming petty yourself - resulting in you trying to be petty in response.

After your last meeting, you started packing up and making your way home. Both you and Mingyu took the same way home, you even got off at the same train stop. Every day you would be a few steps ahead of him. You had the habit of putting on joggers after your day at the office, finding that bringing an extra pair of shoes was worth it for the walk to the train. Mingyu stayed in his rather uncomfortable, but fancy, shoes, so despite his long legs he never caught up to you.

When waiting at the platform, you stood a few meters away from each other but close enough to get through the same train door. You did this in order to not have to talk to each other, but you also didn't seem like you were avoiding each other. Avoiding one another was strictly childish behavior, and neither of you would sink to that level.

Today was different, as the station was more crowded than usual. You ended up standing shoulder to shoulder with your coworker, but the loud surroundings made it impossible to talk - which made you eternally grateful. The big crowd made you incredibly anxious, you had never been good with being surrounded by a large group of people. It was similar to feeling wet food in the sink, or the feeling you got when the elevator takes a few seconds longer to open. Dread filled your nerves, and you wanted nothing more than for the train to arrive so that you could get home. You started fiddling with anything you could; your finger nails, the ring on your right hand, the hem of your shirt, anything. The fidgeting alerted your coworker, who wasn't pleased with the situation but in a way that was annoyed rather than anxious.

As the train arrived, most people on the station started getting on. You considered taking the next train, because maybe there would be fewer people on that one, but you couldn't. Being so close to the entrance, both you and Mingyu were pushed through the door by the sheer force of the crowd. At this point you were on the verge of tears, starting to become overwhelmed with the amount of bodies surrounding you. Pressed up against everyone around you, you could do nothing but follow the stream of people onto the train. Your skin was tingling, like the feeling of an itchy sweater, and sweat started building up under your collar. Everything was too loud, and everyone was too close.

Once inside, it didn't get any better. You felt someone grab at your arm, and when you looked to your side you saw Mingyu again. He was pulling you through the crowded train. All the seats were taken, but he managed to find an empty corner which he guided you to. He put his hand on your back and urged you to stand in the empty area. When you were in place, he stood in front of you like a shield. With him towering in front of you, you couldn't see anybody, and more importantly you weren't surrounded by the masses. You looked up at him and mouthed a "thank you", and he responded with a knowing nod before he turned his head to look out through the window. You took the opportunity to study his face for a moment. It was something you had only done briefly right as you had met him. Now that you were looking at him so up-close, you noticed that his furrowed brow was more out of concern than frustration - and that even with that slight frown his lips looked incredibly soft and delicate. Kim Mingyu, your unofficially sworn work-enemy, might actually be worried about you. If it weren’t for the fact that you were the underdog in the situation, you would’ve definitely poked fun at him.

The two of you stood in silence, you didn't even have the courage to take your headphones out from your pocket. For whatever reason, it felt like if you moved an inch, it would end in catastrophe. The moving train was enough to make you cautious. There was nothing for you to hold onto, so you had to focus all your willpower on making sure you could stand on your own two feet. However, the train didn't appreciate your attempts at keeping your normal work-relationships after this ride, as it shook when running something over on the track. The shaking itself was enough to make you stumble. If it had only stopped at that, you would've been fine. Life found it's way to make you miserable, though. The train came to a halting stop, which sent you flying into Mingyu's chest. He held you by the waist with one hand, holding onto a railing with the other.

"There has been an accident on the rails, please be patient as we solve the issue," a voice said over the intercoms.

A few groans could be heard around the train cart. Some people had fallen. Due to the massive amounts of people, most couldn't hold onto something to keep themselves steady. You, however, did. Your arms were still wrapped around mingyu, your face pushed against his chest.

"I am so sorry-" You tried to get away from him but then the light flickered.

Mingyu's grip on you tightened as the lights turned off. Your ear was still against his chest, and you could hear his heart beating a mile a minute. He was scared of the dark. In any other situation, you would've teased him for it but now it wasn't the time. You decided against bullying him, since he had helped you while getting on the train. Instead, you let him hold you without saying a word. His strong arms held you tightly, and you could feel his hand shaking as he kept it on your back. There was a low murmur throughout the train, as people talked about what could've possibly happened, but the two of you stayed quiet. Mingyu was practically frozen, only relaxing his muscles once a voice started speaking over the intercoms and the lights flickered back on again.

"We are happy to say that no one was injured in the accident," the voice over the intercoms said. "The train will start moving again shortly. Thank you for your patience."

Mingyu let go of your waist and cleared his throat, looking away from you as you did the same.

The next day at work you first saw Mingyu when he walked into the morning meeting. He looked tired, as if he had already been here for a while despite it being so early in the morning.

"Excuse my late arrival," he said as he sat down. "I was busy copying up the new schedules and the copy machine was down."

Making copies. A job he would usually settle you with, specifically when you had just sat down in the meeting. Mingyu handed you a new schedule, your fingers brushing against each other. When you looked up at him he gave you a soft smile. This was new...

Neither of you said anything about the day before. There was nothing to say. You had taken the train together, then walked your separate ways home, but for some reason everything had slightly shifted. He was still an ass to you, but from time to time he would do something unexpected. Something had changed, and you definitely didn't mind.

738 notes · View notes

ponder-the-orb · 7 hours

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Broken Things

(Actually chapter one. Read the prologue here)

Pairing: Fem Tav (named)/Gale

Chapter Tags: Post-Canon, Mystra, Angst, dealing with trauma, hurt/no comfort (yet) , Tara

Word count: 4K words

Read chapter 1 below or on AO3.

***

The pain is instant.

It rips Gale from sleep like a fish speared in a pool, searing from his chest and burning into every nerve.

The silence of the dark study rings with his cry, then a series of duller thuds as he staggers from his desk. Papers flutter, something shatters and another flash of pain crumples his body to the floor.

He bites his lip until he tastes warm metal, trying to centre himself. He knows this ache, as familiar as an old nightmare.

This isn’t happening. It can’t.

The thought tears apart as he touches his chest. It pulses under his fingers, the dark outlines of the mark suddenly flaring with a nauseatingly bright blue light. A light he hasn’t seen in almost two years.

He squeezes his eyes shut and waits to wake up back in his bed, sweaty, aching but fine.

As if to spite such a thought, the feeling swells again and crashes through him. He swallows and hardens each joint, every piece of self control locked in on keeping it firmly inside him. The wave ebbs away slowly, along with his denial.

It’s no dream. The orb is awake and it's desperately angry.

Old reflexes snap to life. He pulls a ring from his finger and presses it to the glow. He feels the weave wrap around it like a delicate veil, then instantly rip apart. He grabs another and does it again, then his earring, his pendant, the sending stones in his pocket. One by one their magic disappears into the orb’s waiting maw, just enough to mute the very edge of the pain.

He sits up, shaking. He has minutes to write a plan lest his tower and the entirety of Waterdeep be levelled around him. The thought sits with cold weight on his shoulders as he heaves himself to his feet. How many people would be lost to his mistake? Babes sleeping in their Mother’s arms, wine-blushed patrons watching the stars through inn windows, sailors reclining on their boats and taking in the city’s wintery skies. A hundred thousand people, gone in a flash.

Ciri.

The wardrobe door shudders against the wall as he yanks it open. It’s a dark mess inside, the small space piled with clutter from their old adventure they’d yet to find a proper place for. Blindly he searches, grabbing the few magical items he can find and shoving them into his chest. Hungrily it devours each one, gorging itself on the weave until he reaches the very back of the wardrobe.

He touches the wall and breathes as slowly as he can. His body is sweaty and tight from the effort– but slightly calmer. He sinks to the floor, rubbing his damp forehead as he tries to piece the night together.

Whatever was keeping the orb dormant is gone, that much is clear. Why now or what caused it are questions Gale doesn’t have time to dwell on. The only thing that matters is finding a way to sate it in the precious few moments he’s managed to obtain.

His hands curl into fists as the only solution stares at him from a dark corner of the wardrobe.

The trinkets in here aren’t enough to hold it. Already he can feel his defences taking a battering under his skin, naught but paper strips holding a door closed against a hurricane. He needs its previous fix.

He carefully picks up a large wrapped object and carries it to the empty plinth at the back of the room. A fine layer of dust swirls in the air as he pulls the sheet free, revealing the effigy hidden beneath.

Mystra.

He lights the candles with a snap of his fingers, then grabs anything gold or silver he hasn’t already torn to shreds and leaves it in front of her.

Her flat eyes stare at him as he kneels. The statue stands a foot tall, but he feels smaller, sagging under the memory of her dispassionate expression from the last time he’d seen her. He can’t quite remember the exact immodesty in his words when he’d refused to blindly follow her orders; it would be foolish to hope she wouldn’t either.

“Mother of all Magic, I beseech you. As you spin the weave that lights our path, grant me the honour of your ear.”

The formality feels strange on his tongue. Such summons were usually draped in more lyrical praises, but he’s more than certain she’d know he wouldn’t mean them. She controls his power, not his life and certainly not his love.

It’s not a comforting thought right now.

His wedding ring bites against his finger as he repeats the words before continuing.

“I know it has been some time and I am sure you do not wish to hear from me. I know… I know that I failed you, but I swear I can offer something much greater than an apology.” The hidden bitterness to his words curdle at the back of his throat. He takes a breath, then firmly presses forward.

“Let me bring you the crown and I’ll right this wrong. Just grant me a little more time to do so.”

The silence stretches on. The air feels colder.

He swallows, then prostrates himself until the cool flagstones rub against his forehead. “The people of this city do not deserve to pay for what I did. So many wizards here will never finish their work. It’s an injustice to all magic.”

When no response comes, he sits up against his heels and finally looks her in the eye. He feels something piercing back, taking in all of him.

“You knew me once, better than anyone. That time together meant something.”

He touches the hand of the statue, gently rubbing its smooth surface.

“Mystra. Please.”

The candles snuff out the moment her name leaves his lips, her presence and his last hope dissolving into darkness.

He tears his hand away, doing nothing to stop the statue as it falls and shatters into pieces against the ground.

There’s no remorse. No fumble to fix her or quiet whisper of apology for his rashness. No. He wants to smash harder, grind each sorry lump into dust until his blasphemy permeates the very air. Let his last act on this plane be one of defiance, finally breaking that old fatuous hope that if he begged harder, worshipped harder, unmade every shred of his dignity for her, then he might finally find that she has a heart to turn.

The breath caught in his throat pushes out in a high, jagged laugh. It happens again as flames engulf his hand, then again as his fist repeatedly meets the flagstones, again and again and again until they morph into sharper, drier sobs.

The hero of Baldur’s Gate becomes the cur of Waterdeep . The thought taunts him as the ache in his chest begins to eclipse the one in his fist.

Another lightning bolt of pressure topples him to the floor before he can stop it. It tears at the restraints until his surroundings have melted into nothing but burning white pain. He wants to fight, to run, to do something to stop this but his body has long since given up the battle. The ache builds again as he desperately thinks, cresting like a tidal wave in his chest.

He closes his eyes, letting one final thought take him into oblivion.

Ciri. Please forgive me.

“Oh Mr. Dekarios. Look at you.”

His neck protests as he lifts his head. A familiar blur of charcoal and ginger fur sits in front of him, watching intently.

“Tara?”

The tressym stretches her wings, slinking closer until he can see the concern knit in her broad feline features. She taps his cheek, then his temple before shaking her head.

“Goodness this is quite the mess.”

He reaches out with a trembling hand. “You need to get out of–”

She shoves something small and shining against his chest before he can finish.

“Eat, Mr. Dekarios.”

More powerful strands of weave bind themselves around the orb as he takes the object in, strong enough so that each breath feels less like stones being forced up his throat.

A pair of gloves drop by his knee as he sits up. Tara hovers above with expectant eyes.

“Now these.”

Something heavier lands at his side as he finishes absorbing them: a large necromantic tome this time.

“And this,” she says as he picks it up, frowning when it doesn’t immediately comply.

He brushes the series of twisting skulls poking out from the worn surface. “There are only three of these on this plane, you know.”

“Then we’ll find the other two afterwards,” she replies, batting the cover with her paw. “ Eat . I won’t ask twice.”

She brings him item after item until the ground is littered with shards of what Gale assumes is every rare artefact he’s ever collected. Little by little the pain ebbs away, a fire quenched by a handful of sand at a time, until the glow finally stops.

He exhales and touches his chest again. It’s bound enough for him to think clearly, at least for now. He flicks the fireplace to life with his finger and props himself up against the nearest wall. Tara follows at his heels, taking her usual spot in his lap.

“How did you know what was happening?” he asks after a moment.

“I may not live here anymore but I am still your familiar. I’ll always know when you need me.” She presses her head to his palm, purring when he starts to pet her properly. “There was an awful lot of shouting between you and Mrs. Dekarios when I first arrived, so I decided to come back later– and it’s a good thing I did.”

He rubs his forehead. “You heard that?”

“The patriars on the other side of the city most likely heard that, but it isn’t the most pressing issue right now. Your condition has returned.”

“Returned and worse than ever. The artefacts are barely touching the sides anymore.” He traces the grooves of the orb as he speaks, trying to remember what it actually felt like when there wasn’t a permanent weight entrenched around his heart.

Tara stretches and turns away. “With this affliction there are worse places to be than a wizard’s tower. Stay here, I’ll find more.”

“I can’t hold it in anymore.”

“Then I’ll be quick.”

“Tara. Listen to me. I can’t hold it in anymore,” he rests a hand against her back and looks over to the broken statue. “She’s made sure of that.”

He watches the quiet steel of his words settle across her face.

“No. No, I won’t believe it,” she declares, leaping from his lap. “Mystra wouldn’t do this. She could never be this senselessly cruel.”

He fights a cold laugh. “We both know that could not be further from the truth.”

“Well then, we will just keep feeding it until we think of a more permanent solution. There are powerful forces other than the divine out there.”

“I could absorb every strand of the weave in this tower and it would give me days at most. It’s never going to be sated; it’s never going to stop and we don’t have enough time to experiment anymore.” He’s speaking the lines he’d rehearsed for weeks in solitude those years ago, the ones he’d thought that he’d folded away for good the moment he’d got on one knee for someone else.

She hisses and starts pawing through the broken items as if the answer could be found amongst the disarray. “There is always something to be done. You told me you’d been keeping a careful study of it.”

“I was. There has not been so much as a twinge in my chest for two years now and, believe me, I tested a variety of different magics to see if any would aggravate it. I thought, well– assumed that because nothing had changed all was well.” He drops his head against the wall, fingers digging bruising stars into his thighs. “I’m a fool.”

“You’re only a fool if you think that I’m going to sit here and watch you give up.”

“This is not giving up.”

“That’s exactly what it is, Mr. Dekarios.”

“Then tell me what I’m supposed to do!”

Tara jumps back at his sudden shout, her wings slamming flat against her body.

“Mr. Dekarios–”

“Go on, tell me then.” Blood thunders in his ears as he speaks, new tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “There is not a force on this plane that can stop it and the Gods that haven’t left me are not going to pull their fingers out for mortal affairs. They’d rather cower behind Ao then stop something that could potentially kill a city’s worth of people. So tell me. Tell me how I’m supposed to fix this. How I’m to pull the perverted power of a false God out of my chest and actually live the next sixty years like I so naively believed I could.” His voice breaks on the last few words, dropping to a more jagged whisper. “Please. Just tell me what to do.”

His words hang in the silence for a long moment. She sits quietly as his breathing evens out, before padding over and curling back in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” she says, resting her head against his thigh. “I really am.”

He sighs and lightly strokes the length of her back. “Me too, Tara. Me too.”

It’s as if all the heat of his anger has dissolved into the air. He should want to shout louder, scream, break everything around him until the whole tower is left in ruins but he can’t .

He’s just tired. So so tired.

Looking down, he remembers the first time she’d rested on him like this. She’d barely been an hour old: smaller, less grey, but just as fiery a presence. How nervous he’d been at scaring her off with a wrong word, but when she’d curled up warm as a fresh pastry in his lap, every silly fear just seemed to float away. What he'd give for it to be so easy now.

“So, what is to be done then?” she asks, lifting her head from his leg.

“The old plan,” he answers, still gently petting her fur. He doesn’t need to elaborate any further than that, the details have been clear for three years at this point. “And thus ends the tale of Gale Dekarios. At least it will be with a bang and not a whimper.”

She stiffens under his touch but stays quiet, letting him continue his rhythmic petting until the hearth dims into embers again.

Eventually she jumps from his lap, regarding him with a softer look. “Shall I wake Mrs. Dekarios for you?”

“No. Let me,” he says, his legs clicking with the effort as he finally stands.

He pauses when he reaches the door. “Tara,” he says softly, turning back to the waiting tressym. “You must know that-”

“I know, Mr. Dekarios,” she interrupts, shaking her head. “Unless you want the last memories of me to be a blubbering mess, you really do not have to tell me.” She nudges his calf and gently rubs the spot with her head. “It’s a terrible thing for a tressym to outlive their wizard, even if the one that summons them is as withered as an old boot. The most surprising thing to me when I first arrived here was that you were just a boy. A loud, talented, nervous little boy. And even though they say that only those with pure hearts can summon us, that doesn’t mean we are bound for good lives, so I really had no idea what was in store for me… or you.” She pauses and leaps into the air, hovering so he can feel every word. “Believe me when I say there is nowhere on this or any plane that I would rather have gone and I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become. You may have stumbled sometimes and made some interesting choices when it came to your personal grooming, but you were never really lost.”

It takes every ounce of his faltering restraint to swallow back a fresh round of tears. It’s the shake in breath that betrays him as he gathers her in his arms one last time. He loses himself in the feeling and, for just a moment, lets himself be that child again: innocent, happy, completely oblivious to how the edges of greatness are far sharper than he could ever have imagined.

“Who’s the blubbering mess now?” he whispers as he deposits her back on the floor.

She taps the wet corner of his eye with her paw. “None of that Mr. Dekarios. It’s hardly becoming of you.”

He brushes his eyes, then his cheeks, completely at a loss for how he’s supposed to even begin to approach the next conversation. He rubs his wedding ring for a few seconds before looking back to Tara.

“Promise me you’ll take care of her.”

She bows her head, wings spread like a cape as he rises again.

“On my honour, I promise.”

***

Walking into their dark bedroom, he can almost forget the discord that has just unfolded below. There’s the pile of first year papers sitting unmarked on the desk, his slippers by the wardrobe, a copy of A Dark Day for Cormyr unopened on the bedside table– everything as neat as when he’d left them this morning. The only hint of disarray is a pile of Ciri’s clothes by the window from where she’d either dropped or thrown them.

She doesn’t rouse as he sits on the edge of the bed. She’s bundled herself in the majority of the blanket against the cold, the sliver of visible face a mask of calm. It’s a far cry from the last time he’d seen it, so twisted and scarlet with anger. He can’t quite remember half the things he’d said before she’d stormed up here, just how deliberately he’d chosen the words, refusing to be the one that broke first.

It all seems so stupid now, those problems a thousand miles away.

For the longest time death had always felt like his waiting mistress. Those years ago, he’d accepted it, made it welcome even as he rewrote his will over and over again in this very room with a calm steady hand. Falling into adventure had only strengthened that resolve, made him more ready than ever to jump into its waiting arms if it meant his failures could mean something.

But, something else happened. She happened. Someone who loved him beyond the measure of his usefulness, enough to pull him from that embrace and tell him that he deserved more than being the discarded plaything of one God and the current puppet of another.

So he did the hardest thing of all; he believed her. He turned away from Mystra’s forgiveness and the power of a God so he could make the choice to live. Really, honestly live.

He stops his hand as it lashes towards the bedside table.

And now all of that means absolutely nothing.

“I’m going to die,” he whispers into the darkness, then again, directly at Ciri’s sleeping form. “I’m actually going to die.”

The words don’t feel quite real as they linger in the air. He shifts closer and rests his hand on the warm curve of her cheek.

“Tell me that we will find another way,” he murmurs, brushing a few orange hairs away from her face. “You never stopped believing we could fix this, even when I thought I had exhausted every other possibility.”

He’d bore witness to the miracles she could perform first hand: commanding a devil to fall on his own sword, pulling an undead dragon from the sky, burning the very God of Death to cinders– why would it be such a foolish thing to hope she could stop this as well?

He leans closer, stopping but a breath from her face.

“I can’t do it. I’m not ready.”

She shifts slightly at the noise, the blanket slipping to reveal the patchwork of burn scars down her back and arms. He brushes each one softly, then her shoulder, the point of her ear, the sleek pattern of coppery scales by her eyes. She groans slightly as he presses her left hand to his lips, rolling towards him.

“I love you. I love you so much.” He kisses the words against her palm, then again, over and over until his voice is raw and sentiment tattooed into her skin.

Not even two years they’d been married. He has grey hairs older than that. It’s such a fleeting time for a human, but even more so for an elf. She could live another six centuries, him but a single page in the story of her existence.

The matter of their lifespans was a conversation they’d had but once and they’d both decided that it did not need revisiting. Enjoy the time we have , that’s what they had said. Back when the assumption was decades, not hours.

He pulls another blanket from the bottom of the bed and drapes it over her, some soft navy thing patterned with the Tears of Selûne. His touch lingers against the silvery threads. Thousands of nights he’d promised her under those very stars. It’s hard now not to count the number they’ve actually had and see just how much of a liar he’d turned out to be.

“I’m sorry, my love. I… I wish– ” He trails off, no idea where he’s supposed to go from there. What words can he possibly spin to soften this or lessen the hole he knows he’s about to rip into both the earth and her heart.

“Let this dream be a good one,” is what he settles on, pressing his lips to her forehead before quietly walking over to his desk.

Snow falls down in sheets through the crack in the curtains in front of him. He can imagine the children at Blackstaff lying awake and staring through the dormitory windows, grinning ear to ear at the thought of missing lessons. He’d already taken more than one snowball to the back of the head between classes, though he’s yet to work out whether those had been from his students or another faculty member. Now he never will.

He shakes the thought away, grabbing a fresh piece of parchment and quietly casting darkvision on himself.

He’s never liked winter all that much, but right now it’s a small mercy. Night will hang over Waterdeep that little bit longer, giving him a few more hours to plan and for Ciri to rest in blissful abandon.

He takes in the beautiful curve of her body one more time before turning back to his desk and beginning to write.

***

And there we go.

Updates will be posted on my AO3 and promoted here. (Hopefully every 2 weeks)

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #my writing #gale fic #gale bg3 #tara the tressym

13 notes · View notes

fairy-hub · 5 months

Note

do u have any self care tips/things you do when you’re not feeling the best? :c

Self care is easier said than done. What works for someone else might not work for you. It’s natural to still feel sad afterwards, but slightly less so.

Whatever you got going on don’t feel guilty for allowing yourself to feel happiness. Not saying you are but lately I’ve been feeling guilty over feeling happy due to personal reason. So sometimes it’s good to hear that it’s not selfish to want to be happy. That’s natural.

It’s ok to feel happy and sad at the same time. And feeling better doesn’t minimize whatever you got going on. I’ve had people tell me you don’t seem like you have “insert disorder here” because “you take care of yourself, do your make up and dress yourself up”

Just because you are doing better or taking steps to do better doesn’t make what you went through less valid. It just means you’re growing as a person, learning coping skills and how to handle process, deal with and move past negative emotions.

- Creating comforting vibes! No you aren’t cleaning, just putting away clutter that doesn’t fit the cozy vibe. Get a blanket, candle lit, put on some cozy pjs. You might hate the sound of cleaning, but creating some cozy vibes that sounds more like decorating which can be exciting

- Take a warm shower, give yourself a gentle wash over and do your hair. Avoid looking at the mirror if you like, appearance mean nothing right now babes we are only existing, only comfort. Who cares how you brush you hair, as long as your hair isn’t bothering you then that all that matters.

- feed yourself, even if it’s something small, eating three meals isn’t always do able when you have no appetite. Eating two meals even if it’s the same meal is good. If you are able keep simple easier to prepare food. Warm up some soup, heat up pre made garlic cheese bread in the oven at the same time.

- stretching isn’t the cure to sadness but your body will thank you for it. Chances are you are slouching and don’t realize how tense you are.

Humans tend to carry tension without realizing it in their face, shoulders, hair, back and hips. Think about your face, your jaw, nose, lips and cheek. Tilt your head back, roll your head from side to side. Look down, clasp your hands over the back of your neck if you want to add more pressure onto your neck. Do this a few times.

Think about your shoulders, roll them back and forward. Count how many times you do. Keep your thought simple if you can’t clear your thought. Put on some music calming to you focus on their lyrics and beat. Nothing else matters but you easing the tension in your body.

Clasp your hands behind your back, push your chest forward and your arms back.

Lean forward to touch your toes, take deep breaths fill your lungs as much as possible. Count to a set number, then slowly stand back up. If you want backwards to bracing yourself if your balance is the best is helpful. It might crack your back if you reach back down towards your toes.

If you can prop your foot on something, grab your ankle and reach for the ground again. This helps stretch out the inner thigh, and hip more so which is good after sitting down for a little while

Our bodies store tension so making a conscious effort to relax each part of your body and focus on your deep breath won’t be the cure all to saddens but your body will somewhat thank you for not staying hunched over like a 🥐

- Taking a break from social media, tumblr included, remind yourself of the other aspects of life. This can be putting away the electronics for a little while anywhere from an 5 minutes to 30 minutes

- take a moment sit there an breathe, let yourself feel the emotions your feeling. It’s not good to ignore feelings, but it’s also not good to dwell within negative feelings either. Taking a moment to let yourself cry, be upset and that sucked ass u didn’t deserve that shit

- let yourself think but don’t obsess, it’s so easy to want to escape your thoughts ignore what’s wrong to try and relax and then you can tackle the problem after you relax. You are never going to properly relax till the task is done ignore it doesn’t make it go away

I hope this helps even a little bit, idk if I’m the best person to ask this question since I’m still learning as well myself

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earth-empress-readings · 2 years

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✨🖤 Shadow Reading 🖤🌙 Pick a Card ⭐️

Shadow work is exploring your unconscious, suppressed, or uncomfortable parts of yourself that you would usually run away from, ignore, or aren’t aware of entirely. The purpose of this reading it to help you get some idea of where to start. I hope this helps you.

Take a moment to relax, breath, and calm your mind before letting yourself be drawn to a card.

From top left to bottom right the cards are ordered 1-4

#1 Let Go

🖤🧹 Enter the darkness and release what needs releasing. Shadow work is uncovering what’s been hidden in the dark, what we’ve been avoiding for the sake of comfort… but this hinders our growth. There’s plenty of frightening feelings to encounter in the dark recesses of our being, yes. Plenty of painful memories as well. But also there’s beauty, hidden talents and gifts waiting to be discovered by you. You must be open to the unknown and face any feelings or memories of guilt, shame, resentment and regret. Once you are staring at your traumas, seeing them for what they are you can now heal what needs healing, clear away what you no longer need, sweep away old patterns of thinking that only serve to hinder your growth, and make way for something new and positive. This was the only reading to have two cards come out. And it’s the only reading without a specific issue, I believe this indicates you have more than a few repressed traumas and feelings that you aren’t aware of. As well as I get the feeling some of you do know but are holding on to them so tight, maybe you’re afraid of letting go, or you maybe the memories won’t let you go. Your shadow work is about facing your demons, getting those skeletons out of your closet, and also discovering more about yourself. It’s about you cleaning and clearing!! Not just spiritually and mentally, but physically as well!! In your home, de cluttering your home, and any other aspects in your life that need changing. A old job that makes you miserable?! A toxic or unfulfilling relationship!? Bad habits that make you feel sick!? It’s time to release the old, journey into the darkness of yourself, and come out anew!! 🌱

#2 Cry

🩸Someone break your heart!? Still suffering!? Someone betray you!? And you’ve never let it go!? There’s a comfort in holding onto the pain of what someone’s done to us, there’s a sense of peace in hating someone for hurting you, leaving you… broken and full of heartache. It’s okay to shed tears, it’s okay to let yourself feel that anguish. For some of you this heartache isn’t about a person who’s wronged you, for some of you it’s about loss… Some of you have lost someone dear to you and you may be grieving heavily, May blame yourself, the world, or god. Your shadow work is to free yourself of this pain. Letting go is not easy by any means. It’s not easy to let go of someone we loved, cared for, depended on, and planned our future with. We intertwine our destinies with people we love, and when they are taken from us, when they leave. We feel abandoned and have to erase the connection we had with them if we’ve broken up, and rewrite the future we envisioned with them. Everything reminds us, everything hurts us, Your world is no longer your world anymore and you’re miserable. But it’s okay, cry and accept this is your present!! Do not look backwards at what used to be and realize what is now, be in the moment and those tears will dry, as you’ve shed your last tear for this person/situation that you will shed. And you’ll look back and it won’t be something that haunts you any longer 🌤

#3 Goddess

🌹 It’s time for you to truly see yourself for who you really are, and goddess Freya is going to help you with it. Freya is the Norse goddess of Love and War!! She’s assisting you with your journey into loving yourself like the god/goddess you truly are. Your self worth may have been something you’ve struggled with for a long time. You may have struggled with feelings of guilt or shame, or like you aren’t deserving of love, abundance, or happiness. Or maybe you think someone like you just could never have such things. This is a call for you to embrace all that life has to give you. Open up and let yourself have all that you are deserving of. Like her symbol, honey!! It’s suggested you taste the sweetness of the world. Know that Freya is a powerful goddess!! Reminding you of your own power, reminding you that you do have the strength to win your battles and war!! Connect to your wildness, be true to your heart and know what your essence is divine!! 🌙

#4 Shine

🦜 Are you a little bit of a misfit!? Miss understood or you feel like others may not understand or accept you if you are truly yourself. Maybe you’ve experienced bullying in the past or still are and it’s affected you to the point where you have hidden who you are. You may have a distinctive birth mark or feature that sets you apart from your peers. I get the sense that something about you is different, physically, mentally, or just your interests/hobbies. Spirit is saying that you’re beautifully unique and there’s nothing wrong with you. Your shadow work is about accepting yourself or not worrying about being accepted by others. Know that you were the way you are for a reason. You’re not weird, but even if you are. Who wants to be normal anyways!? Makes you all the more interesting. It’s your time to stop filtering yourself, to stop dimming your light and let yourself shine!! Show all your colors, you have beautiful feathers!! Spread them and fly!! You don’t have to be caged, the door is open. You don’t have to be like anyone else 🌈

#empress readings #free tarot #tarot #spirituality #tarot reader #tarot reading #spiritual guidance #11:11 #oracle cards #pick a card #shadow work

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antiquatedsimmer · 10 months

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"Boy, what in tarnation!" Eddy's stern voice sliced through the air, loud with irritation, as he stood in the doorway of Silas's bedroom.

"The devil's taken over this room, Silas!" Eddy's deep voice boomed, He glanced around the cluttered space, his eyes narrowing as he took in the mess of wires, metal scraps, and scattered tools.

Silas, his face flushed with a mixture of excitement and apprehension, quickly stood up from the floor, trying to defend his scattered creations. "Father, I didn't expect you to come up here, I was just- "

Eddy's eyebrows furrowed, his piercing gaze fixed on Silas. " Tearing up my house again no doubt! I've had enough of this nonsense, boy! "

"Your mother and I can hear this commotion all the way in the kitchen! Hobbies are fine, but I never gave you permission to go makin' hell and messin' with my tools!"

Silas straightened his posture, a mix of defiance and respect in his eyes as he addressed his father. "Father," he spoke firmly but with a touch of deference, "I assure you, nothing has been damaged. The appearance of chaos is only because you stumbled upon my work before it was complete. Forgive me for not seeking your permission, but please understand, it was all for the betterment of our farm. I wanted to impress you."

Eddy's brow furrowed as he listened to Silas's explanation. He let out a gruff sigh, a flicker of curiosity mixing with his frustration. "Impress me, huh? What in tarnation have you been workin' on that's supposed to impress me?"

Silas's eyes widened with excitement at the unexpected opportunity his father had presented him. He wasted no time, quickly springing into action. With a sense of urgency, he carefully cleared away the scattered books and papers from his workspace, ensuring that everything was in order and the wires were properly connected.

Eddy stood with his arms crossed, his face etched with a mix of skepticism. He watched Silas intently, trying to make sense of the peculiar contraption before him. It seemed like a mishmash of odd materials—a glass ball perched on a copper pipe—hardly something that seemed relevant to farming.

Eddy's eyes widened in surprise as he witnessed the unexpected transformation before him. He had assumed it was just some peculiar decoration, but the sight that unfolded left him utterly astounded. Silas's hands moved with purpose as he vigorously cranked a handle in a circular motion, and to Eddy's astonishment, the dormant metal contraption suddenly sprang to life.

As the gears turned and the machinery whirred, a mesmerizing glow emitted from the little glass ball, casting a warm and radiant light that filled the room. Eddy could feel a subtle heat emanating from the device

Silas's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he eagerly presented his creation to his father. He carefully adjusted the wiring and when the bulb's glow began to fade he cranked the handle once again, causing the incandescent lightbulb to glow brighter.

"Pa, I've studied the works of Edison, and I've been experimenting and refining my designs for months. We're too far out in the Bramble to be a part of Finchwicks lighting system but I can make something to just power things on our property. "

Eddy stood there, his arms crossed and brows furrowed, He was silent for a moment, contemplating the implications of his son's creation. The room filled with tangible tension as Silas anxiously awaited his father's response.

Finally, breaking the silence, Eddy spoke, his voice filled with caution, "Silas, this here contraption of yours... It's mighty impressive, But, son, I can't help but feel a bit uneasy about all this new-fangled technology. It's unfamiliar territory, and I've always believed in stickin' to what we know works."

"I understand, Father," Silas nodded, his eyes filled with determination. "But what if I take the knowledge and skills you've taught me and apply them to make things better? I want to forge my own path, to contribute something meaningful to our family and our community. I want to make you and Ma proud. And one day, when you both grow older, I want to be able to take care of you, to provide for you just like you've always provided for us."

Eddy's stern expression softened as he listened to Silas's earnest words. He could see the genuine passion and determination in his son's eyes, and a flicker of pride ignited within him. Silas's desire to improve their lives and honor his parents touched Eddy's heart.

Silas continued, his voice filled with hope, "I thought that maybe I could start by bringing light to your workshop, making it easier for you to work and create. And then, with your guidance, we could expand that to light up our home. "

Eddy felt a wave of conflicting emotions surging within him, his gruff exterior giving way to a glimmer of understanding. The glow from the bulb in the room began to fade returning the room to its natural light. He found himself wrestling with his stubbornness, realizing that perhaps his son's ideas weren't as far-fetched as he initially believed.

"Well.... I reckon maybe a bit of light fixin' wouldn't hurt."

Silas couldn't contain his joy at his father's unexpected acceptance. "Thank you, Father! I promise you won't be disappointed!" he exclaimed with a wide grin.

Eddy nodded approvingly, He turned to leave the room, his voice carrying a hint of warning as he glanced over his shoulder. "Just make sure you keep all this work confined to the shed, boy. If you burn down this house, you'll find yourself longing for the days when a switch was the worst of your worries!"

Left standing in his room, Silas felt a surge of determination, confidence, and excitement. The conversation with his father had gone even better than he had hoped. It was a small victory, but it filled him with renewed energy and purpose.

#listennn I did my best to make the technology accurate #sorry if the lighting is sillyyYY #industrial machine cc is hard to find.....#silas doyle harrington #eddy harrington #ts4 #decades challenge #decade challenge #ts4 historical #decades legacy #doyle legacy #decades story #historical legacy #ts4 legacy #legacy story #decade: 1900s #decade: 1900 #TECHNOLOGY

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sotisha · 5 months

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Tonight will be the final New Moon of the year. We have an opportunity for a new start, a fresh cycle where we can tune in, vision and aim our arrows of light to what we desire. This is a time of aligning with our deepest truth and having the courage to move, express and create from our centre.

The New Moon is in Sagittarius and it is full of energy, Sagittarius is a fire sign which draws on ambition and creativity. Move out of the box of limited thinking. Challenge your perceptions of reality. Align your goals with your truth and you will be successful. If you have been feeling stuck in a rut or everything has been moving too slowly lately, then get ready as things are about to speed up and become a lot more exciting in a big way.

This is a fiery New Moon, full of strong feelings and passion. Fire has a way of burning off dead wood and cleansing past hurts and guilt. If you’re one of the many who have been wading in your own emotional swamps, let a natural wildfire catch on, and use it to heal your spirit, like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

This New Moon will give us a boost of confidence and empowerment. So be bolder, brighter and braver than usual, go for what you thought you couldn’t do before, take a chance and see where it takes you. Stay open to new discoveries and adventures. Seek out who you truly are and where you fit in the world. Now is the time to ask questions and seek answers.

Now is the time to honor the struggles and battles we have faced in the past. Let them go. You are getting a fresh start. This new Moon is full of vigour and renewed energy, we will start to feel uplifted. We are entering a very positive and upbeat period. We can turn our hopes and desires into reality, make wishes, ask for more.

Sagittarius is considered the sign of the seeker and the philosopher as well as of Cosmic Law. It focuses us on the important questions in life: Who am I? Why am I here? Where am I going? It also gives us a sense of wonder and joy as we contemplate some force greater that calls to us. The archer points his arrow to our future.

This New Moon encourages you to dream big. Sagittarius rules future vision, you may experience strange or psychic dreams at this time and your psychic awareness will be enhanced. Let the fires of Sagittarius cleans an heal you and burn away any negative energy. Use this New Moon energy to clear out old clutter as we go into New Year.

Have a blessed New Moon, may the Goddess watch over you.

#full moon in sagittarius #new moon in sagittarius #moon #new moon #full moon #moon phases

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kaysters247 · 5 months

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Deadly Inferno {A Patrick Hockstetter Fic}

Part 6 - Summer of Terror

Word Count: 1415

Warning: Mature

Little red splotches made from candle wax littered my exposed stomach, indicating how deep we'd gotten into our summer sex fling. I didn't know how long he'd fixate on me to be exact. But I honestly didn't want it to end. Most nights were mixed with Patrick, Patrick, and more Patrick, sneaking into my window when no one was up or could hear. I was lost in the madness of what was going on between us, knowing it was nothing more than lust, submission on my part and complete control for Patrick. I was his toy. He made that clear. And he didn't want it any other way. Since he heard Vic and i's conversation, things have been different. Vic doesn't stay around me alone anymore. And it felt weird. He was my best friend. But as long as Bev was around or the guys, he'd stay. I knew it was Patrick. But the fuck if I was going to defy him now.

"I'm leaving for work Leslie. Behave today. I don't want anymore reports." I rolled my eyes with a sigh from my dads words, the week also consisting of slaving away in this house doing his bidding. Cooking, cleaning, beatings. One that even Henry took a beating for so I wouldn't have to. Odd honestly for him. He blamed himself for not watching me and took the beating. He crumbled when it came to dad. I hated watching it. No matter how much of a shit head Henry is, I love him. He's my brother.

"Alright!" I brushed my teeth, noting the dark mark left on my neck from Patrick's little biting expedition. The burn marks had become second nature to me, also leaving marks from my cigs still to ease the discomfort of life in this hellhole. I knew what Patrick did to me wasn't normal. But I craved it. I loved it. It turned me on so badly that once it was started, I became this animal, feeding into Patrick's mayhem.

"Leslie! Leslie! Down here!" I slowly put my tooth brush back after finishing upon hearing my name in an echo, my eyes darting from one spot to the next in the little bathroom Henry and I have littered with clutter over the years.

"Hello....?" The voice had come from within the shower, startling me to no end. What the fuck.....? I crept my way over, throwing the curtain back, only to be greeted with a red balloon that read in white letters:

🤍

Derry

"You can float to Leslie! And when you're down here, you can feel all the pain you want...." My eyes widened in fear from the now expanding balloon, before it burst with my terrified screams littering the now blood soaked bathroom, parts of the walls and myself entirely coated. Children's laughter echoed within the drain of the shower, leaving me completely motionless. I didn't dream that! I know I didn't.

"Why the hell are you scre...." But Henry stopped dead in his tracks, his words halted from the sight of blood. He saw it to!

"I....I... I don't know what the fuck just happened. I was.... I was brushing my teeth. And I heard a voice....." His eyes surveyed the room entirely, seeing the now popped balloon on the ground and picking it up, reading the letters.

"It's nothing. Just..... don't answer. Don't follow. Ever." And then he bolted without another word, the slam of his door the only thing heard in the house. It was a warning. But from what exactly?

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

{At The Kissing Bridge}

"Come on Les.... No one's watching." Patrick had me backed up against the very carved up bridge, our initials never going into the worn wood because how weird would that be? Patrick is libel to burn me alive for that.

"You know Hockstetter, I don't fuck just anywhere. I have standards." He simply cackled at me in such a way, my heart seemed to stop all together. Patrick was the kind of guy to do it anywhere he pleases. He didn't care if someone happened by us in the middle of it. He'd keep going with a smirk of satisfaction.

"Where do you think you're going fatty?" I jumped a little from the sudden sound of Henry's voice, seeing him, Belch and Vic now holding a very scared Ben Hanscom against the bridge further down from us. Ben is such a sweet kid. We've had almost every class together this past school year. And Henry has been targeting him like crazy.

"I got him. He won't move. Trust me." Belch wasn't usually so aggressive. But when Henry told him to be, he would. All I could see was pure red. Ben was a friend. And I wouldn't go for it.

"Don't Princess. Or I could just burn you right now so you can't move like I'm going to do to him....." He finally dragged me away, roughly may I add towards them, his zippo now in his hands. He was determined to join the fun. And I was going to be apart of it whether I liked it or not.

"Henry! Stop!" Patrick slung me up against the bridge so harshly I almost lost breath, seeing Henry taking his knife to Ben's stomach.

"I will carve my whole name into this cottage cheese! Now shut up Les!" I kicked at his hand without thinking, sending his knife flying into the air, just as Ben kicked him right in the stomach and flipped over the bridge, practically flying down the hill.

"What the fuck Les?!" Henry practically shoved me to the ground in pure rage, sending Vic and Belch down to look for Ben. And his knife. Dad would be so furious if he lost it.

"Sucks to be you Hen." He swiftly kicked me as if he had no care in the world, igniting a scream from my mouth. But I wasn't crying any tears of pain. I was simply angry. Angry at how far gone Henry truly was at this point.

"Shut your mouth Les before he kills you." Patrick's warning came as a surprise, no back talking, no words of his own to add like he's going to kill me for him. He just lifted me off the ground the minute Henry went down the hill to look himself.

"I'm not going to spend summer like this. Watching him torture innocent kids Pat." I ran past Patrick to a path I know all too well to reach the barrens, knowing that's where Ben would likely end up.

"Don't go looking for trouble princess. You'll regret it....." I slowed my pace once Patrick's hand came down on my arm, dragging him along with me to find Ben. I knew he was enjoying this as usual. He just wanted to hurt something.

"Or what? You gonna trap me in your pencil box full of dead flies?" The words escaped my lips before I could even think. But I didn't have long before he shoved me up against the nearest tree, his hands firmly on my waist to keep me from moving, his long legs trapping mine as best as he could. His eyes searched mine with a little creepy smirk on his lips, one I've only seen when he's really thinking dark thoughts. The worst kind.

"Tempting. More like my fridge if you keep talking to me like that." His hands slowly left my waist and started to wander around my body, sending shivers straight down my spine in anticipation of what was to come. I was actually frightened for the first time since knowing Patrick.

"You know princess, I used to stalk your brother. But we all got older. My interest changed when you grew....." His hands tightened on my breasts, toying with my nipples that started to harden through my bra. I couldn't take my eyes off his, barley taking in what he had said. He suddenly placed his hand around my neck, tightening his grip to his usual sexual way, his smile never wavering.

"Patrick...." He roughly kissed me, the longest kiss he'd ever given me since we started all this. It felt..... different. But I didn't read into it much. That would be deadly. All I knew, was this town had its secrets. Adults were oblivious to them. Or just pretended to be anyway. Something was happening. And it's only going to get worse. But all i could focus on, was Patrick.

#owen teague #patrick hockstetter #it #horror #bowers gang #henry bowers #victor criss #belch huggins #it 2017 #ben hanscom #pennywise

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borrowedtimeandspace · 9 months

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Heart to Hearts

28. Cursed

From this list of gt prompts

AU: A Patient, and Time (Donna AU); direct continuation of Clutter

~~~

The Doctor was quietly ashamed that he didn't see this coming. He'd known since the beginning that Zepheera had lived an abnormally long life compared to the rest of her people, and while that was a curious thing indeed, he thought it best not to look into it at the time. Zepheera had only just been rescued from people experimenting on her, and the last thing he wanted was to retraumatize her.

He was so wrapped up in the accommodations for their new companion that he hadn't given much thought to the implications. She, more than likely, didn't know at first about her ageless nature until what should have been later in her life. One could excuse mistakes they made in the past when they had the morbid comfort of knowing that life was too short to dwell on such things. Old age was the true catalyst for dwelling on past regrets and life choices, and Zepheera was at an age to have reached that point long ago.

Despite all the time they'd spent together lately, the Doctor and Zepheera had never really talked. He knew a lot about her recent trauma, but that was a six-month fraction of her 158-year-long life. This was the closest she'd come to opening up about anything that personal, with the Doctor at least.

So he got up, carefully stepping around the mess he'd made of the console room floor, and cleared a space to sit next to the chair Zepheera occupied. One shoulder gently rested against the seat, and one leg ended up dangling through a removed panel space. He wasn’t facing Zepheera head-on, but they were at least at a passable angle for conversation.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The borrower’s gaze, angled up to watch his approach, turned down to let her short hair hide her face from him. Spotting the tension, the Doctor swung an elbow around to carefully place on the seat so he could lean in; not invading her space, but emphasizing his presence as slightly as he could manage.

He assured her, “You don’t have to worry about shocking me. Not to turn it into a contest or anything, but… Like you said, nine hundred years. Plenty of time to build a bank of regrets myself, you were spot on about that, too.”

Zepheera’s tiny shoulders slowly unwound their tension, and she gave a soft sniffle and brushed her hair out of her eyes without meeting his gaze. She took the time to breathe before she spoke up at last.

“I… When I found out that I was…that I wouldn’t… I was married.”

The Doctor’s hearts sank to hear those words. True to his word, he was hardly appalled, but that didn’t make the admission any less heartbreaking. Clearly, it was a heavy burden for Zepheera, as it took a few more breaths for her to compose herself enough to continue.

“I loved him so much,” Zepheera whispered, struggling to speak around the emotion threatening to close her throat. “And the thought of staying the same for God only knew how long while he…” She reached up to scrub at her eyes, visibly willing herself to keep it together and get this off her chest. “I didn’t know what to do, and I was so scared. All I could think to do was…run away. Didn’t even say goodbye.”

She paused to work up the courage to look the Doctor in the eye. Despite his words, she’d half expected to have made him uncomfortable with such revelations. She found him quite intent and engaged with her story, and the amount of understanding she found in his gaze encouraged more to come forth, along with fresh tears.

“But there's more. Because I didn’t just take away his wife. Without knowing it, I also took away his child. Our daughter." A small hand clutched at her shirt just below the neckline, as though saying what happened aloud broke her heart all over again to the point of physical pain. "And I ran away from her, too, the moment I could.”

The moment the words were out, Zepheera deflated. Her face was buried deep into her hands as she wept quietly, yet viscerally. The Doctor looked on, giving her the time and the space to work such intense emotions through her body. Despite her broken appearance, he knew that it had to be an incredible weight lifted off her heart to admit to.

He waited for Zepheera's sobs to start evening out before reaching a hand toward her. The tips of two fingers gently came to rest against her back for emotional support, ready to pull back if she seemed not in the mood to be touched. She offered no protest, so the Doctor stayed put.

"You asked me how I cope," said the Doctor, practically in a whisper. "I do and I don't, I suppose, if I'm being honest."

He felt the slightest pressure in his fingertips of Zepheera sitting up, still in the process of pulling herself together. He paid that little mind as he adjusted to her movements and went on. "Funny ol' universe, isn't it? Because out of all the people who could have rescued you or met you at any point in all this, we happened to meet. And I completely get where you're coming from."

"You do?" Zepheera finally dared to meet the Doctor's gaze again, and he gave her his best reassuring smile.

"I'm always running. Running from, running towards… can hardly tell the difference anymore. Seems we have that in common," he shrugged as his eyes drifted off to one side to follow his train of thought. "And plenty of times, I've had to grapple with the fact that the people I meet and travel with, they can't do that forever. Over time, they'll fade, and I'll still be here.

"But the main difference is, I knew that from the off. Time Lords don't age, you see; at least, not the way humans or borrowers do. Eventually, our bodies can wear thin, or if you live the way I do, things can happen to us that would outright kill other beings, but not us. Our way around death is to completely regenerate our bodies. Every single cell becomes new, and an entirely different body comes together to begin what's essentially a new life cycle.

"I've done this almost as many times as a Time Lord can physically handle. So many different faces and personalities over the centuries. Traveling a universe full of species with much shorter lifespans than myself, often makes me think that a Time Lord lives too long. I've looked at it as a curse, one only I bear because I'm the only one of my kind left."

Catching himself rambling, the Doctor looked back to Zepheera. Now it seemed it was the borrower's turn to sit attentively, hanging on his every word. She made no move to interrupt.

"My point being… For lack of better phrasing, it sounds to me like you suffer a similar curse. Only, this long life isn't expected of your kind, so it isolates you from them in a way they can't understand." He watched Zepheera blink back more tears, but she nodded slowly in agreement. "That part's very different from my experience, but I know how that loneliness can feel. I know how those thoughts and those memories can creep up on you, because a part of you can't just forgive and forget. I can't exactly say I'm an expert in dealing with it all in a healthy manner, but… I do cope with it in my own way."

"How?"

A soft smile made its way to his lips, and his gaze slid over to the door that led outside the TARDIS.

"All that traveling… seeing what's out there, meeting all kinds of people and helping them out. I keep moving, and I don't walk away if I can do something when no one else will or can." Turning back to Zepheera, he gave a small shrug and admitted, "It's not perfect, and it won't change the past, but… it does make it all feel worth it, in the end."

Zepheera's gaze remained locked on the door as she pondered his words. It seemed odd at first, that all those adventures he and Donna went on could be a coping mechanism for the Doctor. Still, she could hardly discount it.

She thought back to the little community of borrowers she'd brought together decades ago. Stroke of luck, really; she'd happened to run into a group, and they were in need of a bit of organization. What started out as one good deed led to Zepheera being rather depended on, which was new. For so long she'd kept herself to herself, reasoning that the loneliness was better than having her heart broken all over again. Despite that, those lovely people wormed their way into her affections, and though she did try to distance herself from leadership of any kind once things were well established, she did stay near enough that she could be reached.

Helping her fellow borrower had been the first proper gleam in Zepheera's life since…

"I want to try again," she declared, finding a strength in her tone of voice that surprised herself as well as the Doctor. Violet eyes reached out to his, imploring him with their stare. "Coming with you and Donna."

The Doctor hesitated only briefly before gently asking, "Are you sure?" He didn't want her to feel he doubted her, but considering her harrowing experience previously, he was concerned.

Zepheera nodded, slow and decisive. Maintaining his gaze, she scooted slightly to the side to place herself in the curve of his fingers. Such a small movement spoke volumes to the Doctor.

"I think we are alike, as you said. Maybe seeing what you see, helping people the way you do… It could give me the strength I need to keep moving, and not just be stuck like I've been." One very small arm curled under one of the Doctor's awkwardly hovering fingertips, and he let her pull it closer. "I trust you. And I trust Donna. I know I'll be okay with you two."

Feeling the slightest squeeze of his fingertip, the Doctor swallowed past a lump of emotion. This was the most Zepheera had asserted herself in the time she'd been with them. Her final words on the matter very nearly pushed him over the emotional edge, and he knew that her decision was final.

"And…I want to help make other people okay, too."

#gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #doctor who gt #doctor who g/t #sfw gt #hurt/comfort #the borrowers #the borrowers crossover #doctor who crossover #tenth doctor #borrower OC #Zepheera #giant #tiny #giant tiny #giant/tiny #A Patient and Time #APAT: a BTaS AU

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emimillerart · 8 months

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Bitter

A little short story I wrote for a competition once. If our emotions manifested as blooms and vines, what would suppressing them do?

Petals brim bitter and sharp in my throat. I choke them back as I watch her.

Elena.

She floats through the garden. Wildflowers strain close to kiss her tawny skin. Wisteria catches on the breeze, settling in her charcoal hair. Little lilac sailboats on the waves of her tresses.

She laughs: widely, recklessly, and the roses and lavender that foam at her lips and sprout from her veins tumble around her. When she cups her palms, white orchids unfold their wings and flutter gently. She throws me a smile, and I drink deep of her brown eyes.

“I could die happy here.” Even her voice is a song.

“What, in Nana’s garden?” I get to my feet, brushing dirt off the back of my jeans.

“You know what I mean.”

And I sort of do. The way the garden is, with tall trees and a proud fence hiding it from the world. Tui song and the hush of wind through leaves drowns out the hum of cars along Sturges Road.

Elena likes that. Being hidden, enclosed, but with the endless blue sky above. God knows the plants love her for it. A jealous green tendril writhes up my throat. I clench at it, and it withers back to seed.

When I approach her through the long grass, the dry stalks and crawling things shy away from me. Call me Moses, I guess. I snatch up a big dandelion, snap its stalk. Clear blood sticks to my fingers, and with a satisfied grin I blow its babies away.

Elena frowns at me when I do this. Fight against it, I mean. Nature. Us. I blow some of the little dandelion seeds in her face. They cling to her like snowflakes.

“Tillie, why do you hate the garden so much?”

“I don’t hate it.”

She brushes the limp strands of dirty blond hair out of my face, and I hate the way her touch makes my blood sing. She tucks one of her orchids behind my ear.

“It’s scared of you.”

I crush the dandelion stem between my fingers. “Maybe it should be.”

The sap stinks, crowds bitter and sharp in my nose. I turn abruptly and head for the winding path that leads back to the house. Since Nana moved to the hospice, I’ve been in charge of looking out for the garden. Under her wrinkled fingers it thrived, green and happy and full of life.

It’s doing alright by itself. It is. I only come out here when Elena is over, when the blossoms open and the trees hum, and the grass swirls around in a gentle dance. When it’s just me, it sits static and solemn.

Arms slip around my waist, and she presses up against my back.

“You’ve stopped talking to me,” she whispers, her breath perfume against my neck.

Suddenly it’s too much. How warm she is, how soft and comforting, and so damn at peace with everything. I squirm, trying to get out of her grip. Vines and leaves and creeping things in my veins are bursting to escape—

I clamp my teeth shut, petals and flower buds cluttering my jaw and tongue like bile. Elena feels my discomfort and lets go. The air kisses cold in the absence of her.

“You can’t just keep everything in. You need to talk, Tillie. About your Nana, about anything—”

I can hear the tears in her words, but I can’t spit a rebuttal around the flowers crowding my mouth. I open the distance between us, and it’s the maw of some monster I’m terrified will swallow me whole.

I hate myself when she cries.

Elena stops coming round. The garden begins to wilt, shrinking away in splintered yellow stalks. I stand in the kitchen, by the big window framed with empty herb planters, and watch the flowers die. They curl up on themselves like paper caught in a flame.

My phone lights up, buzzing viciously until it nearly falls off the counter. I glance at Mum’s profile pic — she’s using a dumb filter that puts butterflies around her head — then reject the call.

I yank the yellow cotton and lace curtains closed. The fabric reminds me of Elena’s favourite dress.

It comes again. That itching and writhing in my veins, heat and spark of anger, and the only way it wants to get out: tiger lilies and birds-of-paradise, spiking through my throat and clawing against my cheeks.

I scratch Elena out of my mind, and the flowers pull away, dormant. It’s easier to be like barren soil. Like the yellow clay I would dig up in the backyard as a kid. Cold and predictable.

Fixing mistakes feels better in the moonlight.

Soil clings to my fingers, gets into all the cracks and crevices, that rusty smell of damp earth. The flowers are all gone, the wisteria withered and brown. I scoop out a hole, set the tiny sprout inside. A zebrina. The boy behind the counter said it was the easiest to grow. Impossible to kill.

Grey slants of moonlight glint off the skeletal remnants of the garden around me. I think of Nana, and guilt twists my heart so abruptly I don’t stop the petals in time. I slap a hand over my mouth, vines and tendrils trying to force their way through the slits between my fingers.

Breathe.

Breathe again.

My heart hammers, but my breathing slows. Traitorous petals retreat.

I take to roaming the streets in the evenings, drawn to the warm glow and tinkling laughter of the pubs in town. Floral perfume clogs the air, mingling with stale beer and cigarette smoke. It sticks in my throat like tar.

Sometimes they look askance at me. My hoodie is stained from the Chinese takeaway I had two days ago, my white keds splattered black with soil.

I pretend I’m waiting for someone, mindlessly tapping on my phone, clutching a tote bag to my side. They soon forget I’m there, Guinness easing the laughter from their throats. With flirting and joy and dreaded emotion comes fronds and leaves and flower buds.

When they’re not looking I scrabble to pick up the cuttings from the ground, concrete wet from rain scraping my knuckles. I shove it all into my bag.

When I have enough I skulk away, back up the hill, my hood pulled tight over my head. Nana’s house sits squat at the end of the drive, the hedges of the garden leafless and brown, lined in silver from the security light. Tenuous excitement builds in my chest. I can fix it. She’ll talk to me again.

The trellis gate creaks on its hinges, the neighbour’s dog half-heartedly barking at the noise. With an erratic wildness I pull up all the seedlings that failed to take, all shrivelled up and brown like dead worms on the pavement after a summer rainfall. That Plant Barn kid was such a liar.

The stolen flowers go into the graves the dead ones left behind. It should work. They’re different, the plants that come from us. For once, the dirt feels good under my nails. Warm and full of promise.

The flowers are still there the next day. Their leaves pucker open, the blossoms waving back and forth, searching. Another sunshower glitters across the lawn, and for once I leave the kitchen curtains open.

The happiness building in my chest threatens to splinter and take root. I turn away from the window, rubbing a shaking hand across my chest, and pull my phone out. The red notification bubble on my messenger app sends a shiver of cold anxiety down my spine. I scroll through, my eyes glazing over the messages, watching the unread count spool down.

A few from me to Elena, before I stopped trying. We called our chat ‘dumb ATLA stans’. I hesitate with my thumb over the Delete Chat button. It’s a ghost of her, like the garden and the curtains and her perfume that still clings to my old sweaters.

I tap out of the app without deleting the messages, setting the phone face-down on the counter. Mum has been threatening to come by, and though the garden is a shadow of itself I let a small bud of contentment grow in my belly. I don’t need Elena to coax beauty from the garden. I’ve done it alone.

It only takes a week before the stolen flowers die. Perhaps they knew they weren’t supposed to be there, in a garden not of their blood. Tomorrow Mum’ll come over, fussing over my thrifted clothes and trying to flog off her unwanted eyeshadow palettes to me. I won’t be able to hide the garden from her.

I sit on the old blue bench beneath the pohutukawa tree. The faded paint is the only colourful thing left, splattered in red needle blossoms. Moonlight slashes silver over dead grass. A sea of shattered mirrors. I can’t sleep. If I sleep, the morning will come sooner.

My phone is on 5%, but I scroll through my social feeds anyway, the bright screen drowning the garden into inky blackness. I land on a picture of Elena, and my heart stutters in my mouth. She hasn’t blocked me.

She’s up on a mountain somewhere, the sea behind her a pale, insignificant ribbon. The golden evening glow lights up her olive skin, and she’s smiling big and bright, a knee pulled up under her chin, the breeze teasing out strands of her hair. Jasmine blossoms fall about her like rain.

It always was that way. Her: sunshine and ease and gold. Me: still and calm and blue. She said I was the ocean, depthless and unknowable. It’s clear now; I was the one holding her under, drowning her light.

My phone shuts down. I blink a few times, the pink rectangle afterimage of the screen floating across my vision. An inverse portrait of her. She fades, and the garden returns, barren as a graveyard.

My chest burns. I curl my fists so hard my fingernails break skin. Jaw clenched, breath rolling over in sharp, shuddering gasps. My heart hammers a warning, but I can’t stop. I can’t keep holding everything back.

Dawn bleeds pink over the horizon, and I finally let myself cry. For Elena. For Nana. For whoever else I trod over like they were weeds. My tears are hot and salty, and I can’t stop them. I won’t stop them. Flowers burst between my teeth.

I surrender.

Succumb to the petals unfurling and choking my nostrils with their perfume. Jasmine and orange blossom, lilies and buttercups. I grasp my hair in my hands, my sobs choked and stuttering around the vines I want to gnash at with my teeth. But I don’t. Not this time.

I wake to the sound of hammering on the front door. With a start, I jerk upright, blossoms scattering from my lap to the ground. Mum is going to kill me. The grind and clunk of the spare key in the lock. She’s going to see the garden—

The garden—

I try to blink the dream from my eyes. Life. Lush green, peppering of bright wildflowers. The wisteria blooming. Honeybees bobbing in and out of the blossoms.

It’s not exactly the same as Nana had it. There’s more yellow, all sunflowers and daffodils and marigolds. Mum’s calling my name, her voice distant as though underwater. My bare feet press into the grass, and for once, I don’t mind how it pricks my soft skin.

The wildflowers shift, wavering for a moment. Unsure. I offer a hesitant smile, and gently brush my hand through the stalks. Like wind skimming across a lake, the flowers bend toward me.

I laugh, truly and deeply and recklessly, and scatter orchids from my palms.

#short story #writeblr #i didn't win but got an honourable mention #short fiction

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foggyparadisecandy · 10 months

Text

FREEDOM TRANCE

[CW: Hypnosis ... always with the hypnosis ... this induction is meant to help you feel the freedom of becoming a blank, mindless slave. It's only temporary though. Life itself is temporary. We aren't promised tomorrow so enjoy today. And enjoy this trance today. Why are you still reading this? Read the trance.]

For all the Americans reading this, happy Independence Day.

Freedom is important - it allows all of us to pursue our dreams and make decisions based on whatever we want.

Freedom can also be exhausting!

As you know, everywhere you go, you need to make choices. Which shampoo to buy? Which food do you eat? Which show do you watch? Which words do you follow? Which person do you vote for?

You can find juggling all these choices can be tiring and overwhelming. Should I go to be now or stay up longer? Should I hang out with my friends or stay home? Should I focus and follow this trance or just drift off? Should I save my money for a rainy day?

Questions and choices are the price of freedom.

It can be a lot sometimes.

Sometimes, you just want to let all that go and clear your mind of the clutter and exhaustion of all those choices and questions.

You are free to do so.

You are free to let those things go and just relax.

You are free to relax and breathe slowly and steadily.

You are free.

And you are free to sink down and let your mind relax and let your thoughts still and quite while you focus on my words and follow my words.

And you can sink and drift and let everything else go and allow my words to take you down into this wonderful state of relaxation and peace and calm.

As you do so, as you drift and sink, as you DROP, down, deeper and deeper, down, you can feel your mind grow still and calm, and you can feel your thoughts float away.

Of course, you may still have thoughts float into your mind. That's natural.

You are free to let them go. You are free to let those thoughts float in and float right back out while you focus on my words and follow my words and relax more and more.

You know that any thoughts that come up can be addressed later.

So, for now, you can let them float in, and float out, and pass you by, while you stay here, in the moment, focus on my words, follow my words, and let your mind grow relaxed and let your thoughts float away, so you can drop deeper and deeper down, into a relaxing, peaceful place.

And as you settle in, and settle down, and drift down, and sink further, and deeper, down, and you DROP, down, deeper and deeper, down, you can feel your mind continue to grow calm and still, and feel a peace settle over you and relax you more and more with each word you read.

You know that as you continue to read, you can drop deeper, sink further, and drift farther, down, and as you do this, you feel a calm, peaceful, tranquil feeling settling over you, and you feel a lovely sense of freedom and bliss surround you and wrap around you, and you feel good and happy as you read more and feel your mind still even more and your thoughts drift away completely.

And you feel a lovely warm sensation of freedom and blankness as you settle down further and further, drift down deeper and deeper, and DROP even farther, down, into this blank and empty state where you have no thoughts and your mind is completely quiet and empty, and you have no concerns, you have no cares, you have no worries, you are free to simply relax, float, focus, and follow, down, further down, deeper down, sink down, drift down, DROP down with each word.

So you find that as you do this, DROP deeper and deeper, and sink and drift further down, you feel a great sense of freedom and liberation, an escape from concerns and choices and questions, and you find you can turn your mind on autopilot and simply relax and focus on my words, and follow my words, and obey my words, and feel a great sense of happiness and joy wash over you as you become blank and empty, mindless and obedient.

And as you DROP, drift, and sink, and allow yourself to become blank and empty, and enjoy this mindless sensation, and you do enjoy it, and you find you enjoy it a great amount, and so you want to give in, let go, DROP deeper, you know you become more mindless, more obedient, and, yes, more free, as you settle in and settle down into this lovely blank space where you are without anxiety, without concerns, without cares, without stress, and you can simply do as you're told and continue reading and feel the blankness wash over you.

So you DROP, you sink, you drift, you fall, and you let go of thoughts, you let go of questions, you let of choice, you let go of concern, you let go of cares, you let go of worry, you let go of anxiety, and you feel good, you feel wonderful, you feel happy, you feel calm, you feel relaxed, and you feel blank and empty.

And you know and you find and you know you find that you can let go further, DROP deeper, sink more and more, as you continue to read and absorb these words, and give in to this wonderful sense of freedom from choice and concern, as you let your mind grow completely blank and empty, completely free, completely liberated, completely happy, warm, lovely, and full of joy.

And with this knowledge, you know that there is a freedom in obedience and you find that there is a freedom in trance, and you know that this freedom is overwhelming and powerful and makes you feel amazing and happy and grateful and wonderful, and you know that you can feel this way whenever you trance for me and read my words and focus on my words and follow my words and obey my words and allow yourself to DROP deep down into trance.

You know this knowledge of freedom is exciting and makes you happy and ecstatic, you feel a sense of relief and joy as you follow my words and obey my words and DROP down, deeper and deeper, and feel blank and empty, mindless, obedient, happy, wonderful, calm, relaxed, and joyful.

So you DROP and you DROP and you DROP and you sink and drift, down, down, down, and feel the freedom as you grow completely blank and empty and allow your mind to shut off so you can obey my words.

And, in this state, in this blank and empty place, you obey my words and feel wonderful and you feel free and delightful and happy.

And you obey and serve and feel an overwhelming sense of freedom and joy.

And you are free to enjoy this for as long as you wish.

And when you are ready, you are free to wake and feel happy and complete and wonderful, and go about your day with a warm, lovely sensation and memory of what it means to be free.

So do so and wake when you are ready. You are free.

(inspired by a wonderful idea from a friend)

CLICK HERE FOR MORE TRANCES

#hypnosis #mind control #brainwashing #hypnotized #trancing #trance #hypnokink #consensual #safe play #foggy trance

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