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wordsbyt · 1 year

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The delivery ( chapter 1 )

His wife took the day off. They were having the appliances delivered, and someone needed to be home. It was easier for her. She had been at her job a long time and a day off was a good thing. She could relax.

Hopefully they could get there early so she could get a drink and a hot bath.

She needed both.

Time passed, and still a no show. She called her hubby, and he said be patient. She told him her plans and he said go ahead. Have the drink. Soak awhile. They should call first.

So she did.

A stiff drink, followed by a steamy soak. She had been somtense lately. The stress of the job, her 35th birthday, just everything was too much at times. She felt like she still looked good, but did she?

Really?

Relaxing, buzzed, and nearly asleep, the door bell rings. She wakes up, shakes off and throws on a robe. It is the fucking delivery guys. No call. WTF!

“We are here with the appliances ma’am”

She said” uhm, okay” “Come on in”

She opened the door, still dripping under what was too sheer of a robe to welcome two complete strangers. Young guys, about 20 each. Tall. And looked strong.

They looked back at her. Her nipples were poking thru the robe, and the wetness made it cling to her ass and legs. The color beige gave it a see thru affect. They noticed. For sure.

She felt conscience of the stares, but liked it. She had not been alone around young men in so long, and certainly not in this condition.

Cold, wet, excited.

They moved the stuff in, and she never bothered to dress. They small talked, one was obviously the leader. He was the more vocal, while the other just stared. At her ass mainly, but her titties busted thru also. He was getting a little excited too it seemed like.

She asked them if they could move a dresser while they where here. It was in the bedroom. Too heavy for her, she wanted it to face in another direction. She laid on the bed and asked them “ move it to the right”.

“It may be heavy, take that drawer out” she added.

When they did open that drawer, the two big rubber dildo’s she has stashed, fell out of their boxes.

“Oh shit” she laughes, and as she sat up, her whole pussy was showing from under the robe.

The two laughed and said “should we put these back in?”

She said “no, hand them here.”

They stood there while she opened up her robe the whole way. This was her fantasy, the one her husband talked about while she used the rubber dick to fuck hersef and sucked his cock. The one about two guys fucking her at once. Was it really happening?

She took the rubber dick and rubbed it up and down her pussy lips. The quiet one pulled his cock out. Long and clean. The boss pulled his cock out and he was hard already. A horse cock! 9 inches at least. He was stroking it and she asked “ you two got time to help mom with this? “ and shoved the rubber dick about 4 inches in her very wet pussy.

They nodded yes. And as they knelt on the bed, the key was turning in the back door.

Hubby’s home……

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lost-in-prose · 2 years

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Character Intro

She's the daughter of a famous racer, following in the same footsteps her father did all those years ago. Now it's her turn to follow the treacherous path of a professional racer. Only problem is, she doesn't have the personality for it.

"Oppression doesn't stop just because someone finally does what should have been done all along." -Tess

Tess Margaret Janssen

Barbie, Legacy

Age of first appearance: 20

Pronouns: she/her

Nationality: 🇳🇱 (Dutch)

Quirks/Fast facts:

Has a mechanic certification

Hella secretive of personal life

Only writes in cursive

Theme song:

Appears in these books: Braking Point, Legacies, Tragedies

#original character #writing #world building #bookblr #brittbooks #wattpad #exerpt from a story i'll never write #original fiction #novel excerpt #original character #legacies #famous father #girl racing #racing #female driver #rivalry #dutchie #dutch girl #Spotify

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cagedwithrage · 1 year

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"make him talk to you willem," he says, "if he talks to you, i think you'll—i think you'll understand why he is the way he is."

Via @milainart at instagram

#intj personality #intj problems #poetry #intj female #intj facts #dark acadamia aesthetic #dark academia #quotes #spilled thoughts #thoughts #Sherlock #willem #novels #books and reading #book #excerpt from a book i'll never write #books & libraries

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cats-otherside · 1 year

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Christmas Feast: misery, served with a side of self-pity

December 24, 2022 - 7... 30p.m.?

A bit of ... pretty misery has settled in my life, the way dust seeps in through the surface of neglected furniture. To be honest ... I’m more numb than exhausted. I think I’m more prone to weak feelings on the occasional empty and quieter hours that come and go; by the time I notice, they’ve already seized some part of me, its familiar novelty like a cold wet slap. I drown in the remaining droplets of cold water.

I’m sad about new things in the same old ways, attaching meanings where they don’t belong. I just hurt in the end, wallowing in a bit of my own satisfaction at the lack of happiness; optimism suddenly seems like a chain to my inner child, and misery is a statement in recognition of my growth in the wrong direction. It’s not true, I know, but I don’t think I really want to admit it - perhaps because there is no right or wrong path; only a path. All the sadness, the blueness, they come in masks and blur and fog up illusions to arouse self-pity. Self-pity is a fool’s way of self-love.

I cannot stop overthinking... I cannot stop thinking. I cry every night to sleep, chest tight and throat raspy, satisfied at the ability to be damaged without trying because that’s all I am and do now, whether I like it or not. My voice is gone afterward, and all I do is think about the wrong people, spend time with the wrong people, blame the wrong people, and possibly love the wrong people. I am sorry for my parents for loving me, and I am sorry for it is only their existence that I want to exist for.

There is no I stand here strong, or whatever, because I don’t even know where I stand... let alone if I’m standing.

Anyways.... Anyways.

Cats-otherside

last entry scrawled in my neglected journal. i mumbled a i’m going to the bathroom to the room full of partying family members but to no one in particular as i slip into my bedroom, grabbing my journal, chest shaking and visions blurring in regret of the three margaritas i thought were a good idea hours ago; my mother visits me, whispering if i am okay, i tell her i am okay, and we return to the party like nothing has happened.

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tangledcharms · 1 year

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autumnal spice bingo

Cinnamon: a candlelit corridor

It's late night when they cross paths for the first time.

Night, their sleeping gowns fluttering in the hurried dances of the breeze, the candles lining both walls of the corridor waning and waxing to its will.

Layla holds a candle dish in one hand, the extra cloth of her gown on the other so she can sneak past the bedrooms without tripping. Her nightly trips to the library continued its secret routine and nothing could stop her from flying down the corridor to sneak another look into the world.

Joanne, whose eyes had been obscured by unruly bangs, was returning from the kitchen with a thin metal cup, one last drop of water clinging to the rim. Her throat had been parched dry by the wind, having slept by the window tonight, and it hurt to swallow.

As their feet approach one another, they look up from the carpet, its years of being trodden on visible in its deep red threads.

One corner of Layla's mouth lifts up into a smile: always ready to welcome, to brighten someone else's day.

Both of Joanne's eyebrows rise up, slow and heavy with sleep, before a small, serene smile appears on her face.

It's late night when they exchange their first greeting. There is not a single word spoken, nothing more than a glance spared to one another, but Layla walks past with a perplexed heart. Joanne seemed familiar. Something in her smile, albeit groggy, recalled a vague memory back to her: a voice, carefree laughter, a face belonging to the wisps of time.

The girl in question drags herself to her bedroom without a second thought, the door closing behind her with finality. Only when the next morning arrives and Joanne catches Layla staring at her across the dining room did she realise:

Why did she resemble her mother?

#wcprompt #writeblrcafe #writerscreed #writers on tumblr #excerpt from a story i'll never write #writing prompts fills #i did it! written in one sitting! can i do the rest in one sitting without exploding it into a full-length novel?#we'll see (rubs hands together)#my writing

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unbossed · 1 year

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Recognize the humiliation of being given a schedule.

#excerpts from the novel that i'll never write

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guerrillamydreams · 9 months

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Apparently I have an advanced case of adult-onset Jack Black.

#excerpts from the novel that i'll never write #the One True Dave

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you-are-my-neverland · 2 years

Photo

[ id: a header with a warm yellow background. in a centered square is a picture of a girl with dark hair looking at the camera in front of a projection, cast in yellows. in cursive orange-ish text reads ‘the metamorphosis of the lost’ on top, and then beneath in the same text ‘act iv: revolution / end id ]

the metamorphosis of the lost >> act iv: revolution >> summer round up

what a summer it’s been! i’m back once again with a terribly disorganized update style post about my beloved wip, the metamorphosis of the lost. as i’ve mentioned before, i had a goal of 200k for this summer (writing about 80k in total), which i surpassed, and am very pleased about. i hope to continue this success into the fall, though it’s not looking likely with how my schedule will be (i’ve sold my soul this semester and trying to make my peace with it before i have no more time left to do so). in terms of plot, i finished act iv and am now 2/3 of the way into act v, so the end is approaching. at a glacial pace, but a pace all the same.

so, tl;dr, in honor of all that i decided to post some excerpts from act iv that i positively adore.

i. emrys & mika in the aftermath of the fall gala

(things could have gone better for both of them, so they’re not feeling great. like many relationships in tmotl, emrys and mika go in circles, taking one step forward for every two steps backwards. this is both a product of bad writing and also how relationships work. the lead up to this conversation is also good, but i cut a bit to include only what i really liked.)

Mika cracked a smile, turning away, but there was nothing humorous in his stare when he looked back at her.

“Fuck off,” he said, enunciating the words clearly. “I don’t fail, Flint. The Black Saint? I’ll kill him. The Bowman? She’s not my business. The Dragon? He doesn’t matter to me. I don’t need to be invincible, I just need to be faster and cleverer. My mother taught me that.”

“You’re not your mother,” Emrys shot back, realizing a second too late that it was the worst possible thing she could have said. Somehow, her emotions had crept into her tongue, and she had ended up spitting out one of the most hurtful things she could think of.

The effect was instantaneous. Mika didn’t reel back, but he did go perfectly still, statuesque in the light. The sunlight caught on the ends of his hair, sparking in his eyes. His face was bloodless, stare absolute and unmoving.

“Mika—” Emrys started.

“No,” Mika cut in. “Go ahead. Say what you want to about my parents. I’m sure you’ve been holding back.”

Silence descended upon them. Emrys swallowed. There wasn’t much of a height difference between the two of them, but their shadows seemed to loom, threatening to overcome them.

“You might worship the ground they walked on,” she finally found the courage to say. “But they weren’t gods, Mika.”

“And what would you know about it?” Mika spat out viciously.

“Nothing!” Emrys cried, quickly steadying her voice and meeting steel with steel. “I never met them, Mika, but I’ve met you. I know how you grew up. Sure, your mother was a hero, but she raised you to be—to be a fucking martyr!”

Mika’s face went through several expressions, before finally hardening.

“You don’t know anything about her,” he hissed. “Or me. All my parents wanted was for me to be great.”

“Yeah, sure.” Emrys laughed jaggedly. “That’s the epitome of parenting right there. I’m sure that’s what all the training was for. There’s a reason that you’re so…you’re so you, you know.”

Mika’s face flattened out. “Just because my parents didn’t love each other like yours did, or raise me like yours did, doesn’t make them bad parents,” he said. “And, really, who are you to judge me? Your parents are fucking dead too.”

Emrys blanched, angry tears rising in her eyes. “This isn’t about my parents,” she said. “So don’t you dare bring them into this.”

Mika scoffed. “Quid pro quo,” he retorted. “Don’t taunt the beast if you don’t want to be bitten.”

ii. belladonna, nightshade & crow in a back alley

(love love love when june (and rhys) have the chance to interact with the other vigilantes, which is very rare. two parallel paths converging, if you catch my drift. in this instance, crow has approached them during one of their outings, and helped them fight off a number of men from the organization. also vin is so often written from other people’s eyes, so i like to play with that perspective.)

“You said that you can recognize our cause,” she echoed, feeling that old, familiar fire rise in her veins, the one that always came right before she made a kill that rid the world of another Snatcher, Surgeon, or Sponsor. The one that said The Organization was coming apart at the seams, and June was the one tearing through it with scissors, cutting it to pieces.

“Then why haven’t you done anything? Why won’t you?”

“We would have done something if we were aware of its existence,” Crow said tensely. June had the feeling she had struck a nerve, but it was impossible to tell; all she had was her own intuition, as Crow gave nothing away to the eye.

“You’re blind if you didn’t,” June retorted, even though she knew that no one knew of The Organization. It was why it was her duty to take it down. Because it lived in the shadows, in the deepest, darkest parts of the city. Kevla swallowed it whole, and June had never understood why, why The Organization was almost protected by a city that should have despised it.

Although now it was like Kevla was giving it back to her, piece by piece, stone by stone, child by child.

Crow smiled. It was devoid of any feeling, a simple movement of lips.

“Children vanishing or being trafficked is nothing new in Kevla,” he said. “Which I’m sure you are aware of. I’m regretful that we were unaware of this organization, as you call it. You cannot fathom the regrets I have.”

June stared at him, unsure if she was being mocked or confided in. Both seemed equally impossible.

“However,” Crow continued, voice deadly soft. “You wanted to do this alone. I know you’re in our network. I can tell you’re intelligent and deadly. You have a hacker on your side, someone on the other end of that comm.” June resisted the urge to touch her comm, as if she could bring Kit to safety with it, even though she knew he was on another line, following the path of the children. “You could have come to us for help at any time. You didn’t. I know.”

June bit back whatever response she could have said. I know. What did he know? I know you. I know what you are. I know how you operate.

She had been read, June realized, read and analyzed and understood, at least to some degree. The thought made her skin crawl. It made her think of the gazes she had felt on her every single time she had been brought before another masked Sponsor, the looks of the Surgeons before she had faded into the haze of anesthetic, the times she had been given it at all. The looks that said they recognized her, looking at her with that warped shade of love, the way a god might look at their creations.

June did not want to be understood. It was better to be a force of nature, incomprehensible.

“You don’t know,” June said, because it was the only thing she could ever say to someone who thought they knew anything at all.

iii. vin, anele, and four a.m. nights

(i was torn on what to include from this chapter because it is all anele pov and i love it SO MUCH! but i really loved the interactions between them especially, so i had to showcase this in the end. i was so far from normal about them before they even existed, and i cannot do them justice in a novel as big as this, but i try my best to.)

“About earlier tonight,” Anele started, and then hesitated. Vin was looking at her, eyes dark and expressionless. The warm light of the lamp made his eyes seem darker, pupils pooling into irises. Anele took a breath and steeled herself, wondering why she suddenly felt nervous.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she managed to say quietly. “That wasn’t my intention.”

Vin’s eyes flickered, shuttering a little bit, and then he turned away so that she was looking at his profile and he was looking at the wall, unadorned in front of them. They had started painting some of them, a long time ago, but never got around to finishing, because of the lack of time, but also due to the fact that they hadn’t been able to agree on a color as a group.

“You didn’t upset me,” he said, voice just as quiet.

“Yeah,” Anele said. “I did.” After a long pause, she quickly added, “No offense.”

She saw his lips twitch, as if a smile had caught him by surprise.

“I know I did,” she amended. “Even if you won’t admit it.” Silence. Sighing, Anele pushed forward. “But I don’t think I was wrong. I know you don’t ever want to talk about yourself, Vin, and I know that you think differently about, well, everything, but you do care. I know you do. I see it. I saw it. Even if you can’t see it yourself, why can’t you accept that I can?”

Vin was silent. It was a heavy silence, the words sitting unheard in the air between them, bearing heavy shadows. Anele worried her lip between her teeth, instantly feeling as though she had spoken too much, but also somewhat relieved to have gotten it out there. Her feelings, usually a ball in her chest, a weight in her heart, now left her, making it easier to breathe.

“You don’t,” Vin said after a long moment.

“Don’t what?” Anele shot back, suddenly unwilling to let her mind finish the sentence. “See you? Know you?”

Vin paused, as if taken aback by her sudden words.

“You are the only person who has ever come close to understanding me,” he said. It wasn’t a direct answer, but Anele knew it was the only answer he would give her that wouldn’t undeniably hurt. A kindness, then.

“And you,” she said quietly. Vin turned to her questioningly, and Anele rephrased, “You understand me. Even when I wish you didn’t.”

Vin smiled. It was a small, delicate thing, a private little half smile that only made their interaction—in the hushed darkness of night, with only the lamp, couch stretching between them both an ocean and a crack—seem more intimate.

taglist (scream to be added or removed!): @cannivalisms @sunshineomeara @thepixiediaries @muddshadow

#writers on tumblr #my writing #writeblr #wip: tmotl #wip: the metamorphosis of the lost #excerpts #my writing excerpts #writing #no cool section titles this time idk #anyways there is so much more i wanted to post but at that point might as well publish the novel lol so i held back #i know...no india and june interaction but i already gave you guys a lot of them #also a bright header finally! i know!#i will miss this summer...all i'll be writing is notes from textbook readings in the fall :skeleton face:#hope you guys can understand the basics of this story even with these random excerpts #and also the character profiles i'll never get around to posting #also please interact if you see this. even if you only read a little.

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