#december is always a bad time and it’s hard when i don’t have class or work as a distraction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onelittlespiral · 5 months

Note

You should definitely do a preppy boy tf!

FML: Contact

I knew I should have charged my phone before I left, but I was running late and didn’t want to miss my study session. I know, I know it was stupid. But the walk was only supposed to be a few blocks. I have no idea how I got this lost. It felt like I was wandering for hours, but I kept just going around in circles and ending up in front of this gym. Great, just what I needed before finals week. Maybe I should stop an- ugh. My bag spilled out in front of me as I wa a knocked to the ground.

“Hey, sorry bro.”

It seems like on about my third time around the block I finally ran into one of the gym’s patrons, idiot. For the life of me I will never know how those guys will walk out in shorts in December. I started to scoop my belongings back into my bag.

“Here, let me help- Ah fuck, that could be bad.” He picked up my laptop and handed it to me. Thankfully it seems that there wasn’t any real damage, but a few deep scratches were carved in the metal and the screen was definitely cracked.

“Just what I needed today! Look where you’re going next time!” I was nearly in tears. I was lost, I was frustrated, I think the fall tore a hole in my khakis, and now my computer would be busted till after finals.

“Hey, I said I was sorry. Didn’t mean to knock a shrimp like you down. I didn’t even hit you that hard…”

“Well sue me if I don’t have time to get swoll bro,” I spat, “but some of us have finals to study for.”

“Oh dang, that’s where I know you from! English 110, with Professor Kim. Yeah, you’re always in the front and answering shit.” Immediately the puzzle pieces clicked. I can’t blame myself for not recognizing him. He must have been one of the dudes who sat in the back, and they all basically acted, talked, and looked about the same. A bunch of gym rats struggling through the gen eds. I’m genuinely surprised he can to class often enough to recognize me. “Hey man, are you studying for this final later? I’m just like not getting this stuff. Like, why are they having Exercise Science majors out here studying English anyways?”

“Uhh, yeah maybe.” At this point I was past the point of caring about this conversation. It was such a simple class I hardly had even glanced over the study guide. I had packed my things and was making to get up and leave.

“Here bruh, lemme help you up,” and he extended his hand to me. I grabbed hold as a small shock passed between us. It was just a split second, but as his calloused, sweaty had grasped mine, I felt a jolt that stuck my hair on end. I hardly had time to notice as he hoisted me up. “Hey, if you do end up reviewing later, maybe give me a heads up. We could do a study session or something.” He pulled out a pen and scribbled on the back of a receipt. Grabbing my hand again, and pulled me into a bro hug before I could protest. Up close he was warm and humid, sweat cooling in the cold winter air. He left the paper in my hand when he pulled away. He smirked, “You should ask inside, they may be able to help. I’ll see you later tonight.” There was a confidence in his voice that sent a chill down my spine. Before I knew it he had booked it, and I was left with a piece of paper, a broken computer, and a sinking realization I was still lost.

With few options left, I popped into the gym my classmate had just come out of. Maybe they would have a charger I could borrow or be able to help me with directions. At least it was warm inside. I walked over to the man at the desk, asking “Hey, sorry to bother. Do you all have a phone charger? I am completely lost and out of juice.”

“You can bother me any time,” the attendant said with a wink, “We’ve got some chargers in the locker room, but management is struck about people using facilities without paying. You already a member with us?”

“No, do I look like a member with you all? Please, I’m tired and at this point I just need to get home.” I groaned.

“Well sorry bro, you’ve gotta get those gains somewhere… let’s see, a day pass only runs about $5,” he slid the card reader to me.

“Fine.” I thrust my card into the machine and grabbed my receipt, storming off towards the locker room.”

“Enjoy your time! Oh, sir. Those aren’t the locker rooms they are the changing ro-” and the swinging door cut him off. I cut to the first door on my left. The overhead lights activated as I walked in. The inside was warm, hotter even than the lobby. For locker rooms, there were very few lockers. Just cooler with some sports drinks, some mirrors, and a charging station. No one else was inside, so I sat down on a bench and set my phone down on the charging station. With the heat I quickly began stripping layers, till I was down to my sweater, but I was not going shirtless in this place. It looked like it would be a while before my phone would be charged. I tried to put the whole situation out of my mind as I laid back and relaxed, carried to sleep in the thick heat…

I woke up a while later, disoriented and thirsty. It may have been a bad idea to sleep in the sweater, the thing was practically dripping in sweat now. I began to pull off the damp thing when I was shocked to see what was underneath:

Abs. Pecs. Abs and pecs. I had to be dreaming, when did I go from a stick to having abs and pecs. Not only that, but my arms. Thick and smooth, my arms looked swollen, as though I had been working them out for years. And my legs, they felt like lead beneath me, so heavy I could hardly move them. I could crush a melon between my thighs. And my poor shoes, they were practically in tatters on the floor. My toes poked out of the remains, leather torn between my meaty soles. I looked in the mirror to get a full picture. If I didn’t see it I wouldn’t have believed it, I was a whole different man.

I grabbed my phone and booked it out the door back to the front desk. The same attendant was there, looking me up and down as I passed by:

“Well hey there handsome. How are you enjoying our amenities?”

I just about strangled him, “What the hell happened? What did you all do to me?!?”

“I did try to tell you. Locker rooms are the other side. Those are the changing rooms.”

“What’s that supposed mean?”

“Well, look at yourself. Must have gone for the muscle enhancement, eh? Not a bad look on you.” I could just about wipe that smug look off his face.

“Cut the bull crap, I didn’t ask for this. If you all changed me into this change me back.”

“So sorry,” the apology dripped from his lips, “but things don’t quite work that way. For more specialized changes you have to get a full membership.”

“That’s a fucking lie,” I shouted, “You never said shit about this. I don’t need your membership. Change me back, now.”

“Woah, calm down there hot stuff, no need to get so worked up. How about this. My boss is home for the night. I know what you looked like when you came in. I can sneak you back into one of our specialty changing rooms, and I’ll calibrate it myself. Deal?”

I was about in tears, “Deal.”

He took my hand and lead me to the changing room all the way in the back. Same set up, same bench in a mostly barren room. This one was maybe a tad smaller. His voice came on over the intercom:

“Alright, now just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.”

This time, deep red lights came on and that same heat began to fill the room. It somehow felt a bit different. The other heat wrapped around, this one felt like it pierced. In moments my body was flooded with warmth. Sweat rolled down my body as the room began having its effects. But something wasn’t right. Instead of shrinking down to my lithe self, my body felt like it was bubbling, and began to swell even more.

“Hey. HEY! What the hell! What are you doing out there? Wrong way asshole!”

He chuckled into the intercom, “What? I think it’s a good look on you.”

“You’re supposed to change me back!” I shouted

“I said I would calibrate the room. I didn’t say how. You should feel lucky, you’re getting the VIP treatment for free!”

Everywhere sweat rolled my muscles stretched as my body began writhing under the feeling of its growth. It felt… it felt… oh god it felt… so…good. But it had to be stopped. I couldn’t keep going like this. I put all my effort into standing up and lunged for the door handle. It didn’t budge, locked from the outside.

“Oh, is this not to your taste?” he teased “Well, I already did smooth jock tonight. Fine, let’s try this then.”

The red lights switched off as dull LED’s took their place. At the same time, a mist began pouring into the room. The smell made me dizzy as I slumped back on the bench behind me. The haze curled around me and stuck to my skin. It smelled like aftershave, sharp and fresh, with a coolness that made me shiver. My skin began to tingle wherever it touched. I watched as my skin turned to goosebumps, then slowly a fine layer of fuzz began to coat my pecs. It grew and curled wherever the mist lead it. It blazed a treasure trail down my abs and branched out to cover them. I could only moan as my body pushed out my new pelt. It curled around my back as a forest erupted behind me. Working it’s way up, I felt a tickle on my jaw and cheeks. It caressed my face as a five o-clock shadow pushed out from my smooth face, and in moments a full beard was pushed out. It’s curling tendrils even worked on the hair I already had. I felt the hair on top of my head stand on end before following the mist into a thick mop. It worked it’s way into my gapping mouth too, and I felt my throat stretch and adjust, my moans coming out much deeper. Then it concentrated on my groin and pits. My previously trimmed bushes grew wild, quickly becoming a tangle. As my pubes grew around, it felt soooo good. I began getting hard, but the mist only took that as an opportunity. Something else to grow and curve. It stretched 6, 7, 8, 9 inches straight out before curving distinctly up. I was in pure ecstasy, with only the thought of the man outside watching keeping me from fully jacking off.

“Wow, what a grower. I knew you had potential but, woof.”

“You… won’t… *gasp*…get away… with… with this!”

“Oh, still a little rebel in you? Maybe we can bring that out a bit.”

The mist receded, and overhead the lights began to strobe and a loud white noise began to play. The pattern was disorientating and it hurt to watch. But even when I closed my eyes I couldn’t escape. A splitting headache developed as my emotions all turned to anger. I tried to shout, to call for it to stop, but my words didn’t even reach my ears. I watched in glimpses as I began to scream, deep and primal, rage in my eyes. My arm clenched into a fist and I ran up to pound the door down. It still didn’t budge but the shock sent a ripple down my arm. In the mirror I watched as in slow motion a full sleeve tattoo stretched down my arm. I sat down in pain and fear and anger as I grew close to tears. But the back of my mind knew that I could not cry, not anymore. Then, all at once it stopped. I realized I was still shouting. I felt pissed off, aggressive. When I got out of this room, I was gonna pummel that twink into submission.

“God, that one always gets me. I love a man with tattoos.”

“Fuck OFF” I growled. I looked in the mirror at the monster I had become:

My mind was being flooded with emotions, a sense of loss for the person I was, a rage at the man who had done this to me, an animalistic horniness from my sizable new cock, and a deep terror for what else could happen. I channeled that fury and made one last attempt on the locked door. I yanked and rattled the door with all the strength this new body could muster. I felt the handle flex beneath my grip, before a loud *snap* sent me plummeting to the ground. The handle had come off the door. I banging against the door, shouting for anyone to come help me.

“Hmmm,” the attendant contemplated, “I may have gone too far with the rage this time. You’re a beast bro, but let’s reign it in. A healthy dose of this should help.”

A new cloud filled the room, this one thicker than the last. It was damp and sticky and clung to every inch of me. This one smelled rich and acrid, like an arm pit that had long since sweat through any deodorant. It was as though every patron of the gym had joined me in the room fresh from their workout. The fog was so thick I felt as though I was beginning to choke. It slid heavily down my throat and made my eyes water. That’s when I felt it begin to corrupt me. My enraged mind became calm, then addled as my brain filled with the all consuming fog. Memories flashed before my eyes as I felt them slip from my mind, replaced with false copies. I felt my college experience shift from books and classes to working out and tutoring sessions. My classes in journalism and writing were swapped for work out routines and remedial math. Then my cock began twitching as memories of hot workout sessions with my bros filled my mind, replacing my book club. As my mind relaxed and the new memories came to me easier and easier. My IQ was slipping down quickly, resting now somewhere around 75. As my mind relaxed I felt my body do so too. The cloud began seeping into my pores, filling me with its corrupting influence. My body betrayed me, greedily sucking up the cloud until the room was completely clear. I felt warm and tingly, my body pressed flat against the cold floor. I lifted my arm to get a good wiff of my funk. My cock jumped in response. God I needed to fuck. The cloud had saturated me, inside and out, soaking me in a new identity.

“How are you feeling in there big guy?” a voice was on the other side of a speaker in the room.

“Aight I guess man. I’m tired. Guess I passed out in here,” I replied. God, just waking up from a nap and I had my morning wood. The door opened, a cute bro was on the other side.

“Have you enjoyed your day pass sir?” He asked.

“Hell yeah Lil’ bro, it’s been good. This gym is stacked. I haven’t felt this worn out after a workout in a while!”

“Have you considered upgrading that day pass to a full membership? I know I would love to see you around,” he said with a wink.

“Mmm, wouldn’t mind seeing you every day. Gimme the forms.” He led me out to the lobby, I signed a few forms, and handed me a card.

“Now remember next time, locker rooms are over there,” he smirked. “Here, this is free with your sign up.”

He threw a tank top over to me. Good thing too, I think I forgot mine at home. It fit snugly over my huge chest. It made my arms look huge too. Just a shame I sweat so much after a workout, I already had some pit stains going. Shit, I was rank.

“Thanks bro, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I strolled out the door into the cold winter air. I flexed, feeling the breeze wick some of my sweat away.

“Hey, excuse me?” Some dork walked up to me, looking desperate. I felt like I knew him from somewhere, though I couldn’t place it. “Would you happen to be able to help me? I have been going around in circles and can’t seem to find my way. I have an exam in just a few hours.”

“Nah, sorry man. I’m not quite sure I’m able to help. Never been good with directions huhu,” that’s when it clicked, “Hey, you’re in my bio class aren’t you? Ah shit, is that exam today?!? Fuck, I’m never gonna pass that crap.”

He looked a little flabbergasted, but made some excuses and was about to move on when I grabbed him. I felt something pass between us, as his gaze fell onto me, unblinking, “You should check in the gym bro, I know they can help you out.” I pulled away and the moment passed. I reached into my pocket and pulled out two receipts. The first was my receipt for my day pass. I scribbled down my contact info, and handed it off to the nerd. “Here, if you want to talk about lifting with me and my buds later you should give me a call. Looking a little scrawny bruh.”

He took the receipt before wandering towards the gym entrance. I then looked at the second paper I pulled out. Oh yeah, it was that hot gym bro from earlier. Yeah, I could meet up with him for sure. His name at the top rang a faint bell. For a split second, I remembered a friend I would sit next to in class. Smart, nerdy, nothing like the man I had met on the sidewalk earlier... But just then I felt my brain pounding, and I couldn’t focus on… whatever it was I was thinking about. Oh, right. Hot jock. Yeahhh, I’m gonna go see if he wants these rank pits shoved in his face while I ride his cock.

————

Maybe not what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy anyways ❤️

#hypnosis #bro #transformation #musk #preppy tf #jockification #fml #muscle tf #changing #reality change #straight to gay #jock tf

829 notes · View notes

saiidahyunie · 5 months

Note

you are such a good writer i am genuienly crying!!!!

ykykykykyk my bday is on the 20th december. ......

like if you have time.... maybe you could write a chaeyoung fic... maybeeee....

maybe something angsty + including them as art lovers... like chae using reader as a muse and her art gets sadder and sadder from time to time...

she fits the art trope so well ugh it hurts me, so here's my thoughts on this.

chaeyoung deserves the entire world btw

it all started with a stupid semester long project for your art class. you were late and the professor thought it was a good idea to pair you up with the last person you would ever want to be with.

most of the classmates were in awe that the professor thought it would be a challenging task to pair up you with chaeyoung as you two were the best and brightest in terms of the creative minds you and her shared.

what they didn’t know was that about thirty minutes prior, you and chaeyoung were in a complete accident out of nowhere that gave both of you guys a really bad first impression.

the project itself didn’t have to be started right away, you just continued to show your talents through multiple works of sketches and paintings in your professor’s monthly competition. nobody else came close, it was always you and chaeyoung head to head as her’s were a complete contrast to your style.

“i love y/n’s works so much!”

“chaeyoung’s send a message i don’t know if you guys can see it.”

“it’s almost as if they’re speaking to each other through their art.”

you hear the things your classmates would compliment or compare, but it was never about seeing who was better no–more like trying to pry about each other’s minds and emotions.

aside from all the numerous things and assignments, you and chaeyoung somehow manage to go to an art museum together despite the bitterness when she turned you down, but she came back around only because for the sake of drawing inspiration.

i think it would’ve been a good idea to just get lost in the museum by yourself, but you end up sticking with chaeyoung as you follow her around as she studied the more sad and darker works.

eventually you and her stumble across a piece where it’s a simple machine in the middle that’s closed off by glass panes. you watch the machine clean itself of the leaking oil that’s spilling around, almost like it’s enslaved for its entire existence.

you meet up with chaeyoung at the center of the piece where it shows the name of the artwork titled: can’t help myself. you found the title to be fitting since it literally shows the machine working for its entire existence.

“we should probably go now, the museum is about to close.” you say to chaeyoung as you turn to look at her, catching a tear falling down her cheek. you would try to comfort her as it hurt to see her like this especially in public, but you decide to do nothing as you take a couple steps back to give her space.

it’s almost the end of the semester and you and chaeyoung eventually get started on your collaborative project that ends up being a sculpture. since there was a dry period of inspiration, you and chaeyoung argue over who should do what.

“we’re out of options.”

“no, you’re just not thinking hard enough.” chaeyoung retorts at you, scoffing as she continues to draw her heart away on her sketchbook.

“this was professor schick’s worst idea putting us as partners.” you shoot back as you sit across from her in the small vanity of the school’s art studio.

“i already told you i don’t want any part of this project, so this is all on you.” chaeyoung mumbles as nothing is heard except the scribbles of her pencil onto the paper.

you shuffle forward and close her sketchbook, “you said we can do the sculpture, i’ll be the model.” chaeyoung stares at your shocking proposition and contemplates on the idea, given the fact that it’s almost due and there’s no time left, it seemed the only logical thing to do.

“okay, lets do it.”

once chaeyoung got her art materials setup, you sat and took your position on the stool as chaeyoung got to work at molding the sculpture from your reference.

it seemed like torture that you had to keep yourself up for what seemed like hours, chaeyoung took her time etching in the details of your unbuttoned shirt, exposing your midriff and just stopping right before the shirt parts at your breasts.

you hear a smack on the canvas in front of you as she scooched back, facing the floor as you stepped down the elevated platform, making your way to her as you were genuinely concerned for her at this point.

“chae, everything alright?” you ask as you kneel down to get a better look of her face.

she’s crying.

“you have to tell me what’s going on, i don’t want to see you sad all the time.” you say to her as you try to place your hands on her shoulders, chaeyoung swatting them away instantly.

“i don’t know how you do it…” she mutters, “how can you be okay with us being like this?!”

you step back to give her breathing room, still unsure about her feelings.

“what are you talking about-”

“i wish i could see the world through you!” chaeyoung exclaims, “i don’t want to be hurt like this anymore!” her voice breaking as the tears came streaming down.

pulling her in for a hug as she cries on your shoulder, “you don’t have to hold it all in anymore chae, i don’t want us to be enemies.” you say as the sadness comes over you as well.

who would’ve thought that opposites can be attracted in the most unexpected circumstances of pain.

</3

hopefully you'll like this and thank you omg ur actually the sweetest i can't

#twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice imagines #son chaeyoung #twice chaeyoung #chaeyoung x reader #twice fluff

15 notes · View notes

laurelnose · 3 months

Text

good news! I don’t have a brain tumor 🥰

so basically what happened is

mid-december: i acquire Debilitating Migraine, 10 out of 10 worst pain I’ve felt in my entire fucking life Migraine, worse than the time I spent three weeks recovering from major surgery completely sober because I am inexplicably resistant to just about every class of painkiller I’ve ever tried Migraine. (I actually only rank the surgery experience about a 6 out of 10 on the pain scale.) we get the migraine down to Bad But Manageable by locating several new Christmas light strings that turned out to be flickering at speeds the human eye could not detect but my human brain certainly could and throwing them all out. I make a doctor’s appointment.

last week: I finally see my PCP. she prescribes me a triptan, which is an abortive med that is meant to stop migraine attacks. the triptan decreases the headache but does not remove it entirely. also, the damn thing keeps getting worse again. I try it three times over the week, which is the maximum number of times you’re supposed to take a triptan in a month. almost like you’re not supposed to have more than three headaches in a month or something?? weird. well, technically I haven’t had three. it’s all the Same Damn Headache.

this same day I also pick up a topiramate prescription, which is a preventative. i am advised i can start the topiramate even if i am not pain free. maybe if i give it a day or two it will help even if i am currently having an attack??

wednesday i see my PCP for followup and tell her i am still in pain. she offers to get me squeezed in to have an intramuscular toradol (heavy-duty NSAID) shot. this kicks in within 20 minutes and doubles my migraine pain. I was at 3-ish and now I am at 6 and unhappy about it.

i do not come back down from the level the toradol kicked me up to. i survive thursday by not doing very much of anything.

uh? holy shit? yeah, sure?

friday the pain becomes unbearable. back up to an 8, which isn’t the worst it’s been but it’s also Day Forty Fucking Two and I’m so tired. I leave work early & go to urgent care where they pump me fulla benadryl and dexamethasone. absolutely none of this is fun — the dexamethasone feels like a panic attack and the benadryl makes me dizzy and light-headed + makes it very hard to think of words? what the shit do people take benadryl recreationally for? but! the pain diminishes dramatically. after the IV’s done they get me in for a CT scan and are like hey! you don’t have a brain tumor! (I was not actually worried I had a brain tumor but it’s always nice to rule it out.) but you do have a sinus infection and a bunch of fluid buildup that’s probably triggering the migraine. (really? but I haven’t been congested?) yeah, no, it’s really deep in there. do you wanna do antibiotics and sudafed about that to clear up the fluid?

saturday morning the head pain is back but it’s mild and it feels LIKE A FUCKING SINUS HEADACHE and not a migraine anymore oh my god. Guess what kinds of headaches are fucking fixable and tend not to be intractable and unpreventable. It’s also like, a manageable amount of pain? It hurts but I feel okay?? I get thru work without taking my breaks in the dark with a heat pad? I look at headlights on the dark road coming home and am not immediately debilitated? 😭 Maybe in a week and a half when the antibiotics course is done I will actually just be Fine??

I really shoulda gone to urgent care back in December. Too bad I didn’t quite realize you could go to urgent care for migraines until I’d seen my PCP for the first time and that couldn’t happen earlier bc, well, appointments are hard to come by.

I’m wondering in hindsight if the triptan WAS kicking the migraine more effectively than I thought it was and i couldn’t tell because I had a sinus headache underneath (which kept bringing the migraine back). this also explains why I was getting decent results with Vick’s VapoRub LMAO. Like some people do swear by menthol for migraines but it was probably helping the congestion too.

anyways this is why I’ve been quiet. I will be quiet for a little while longer probably bc the sinus headache is still not fun but it is getting better. in fact i had to get up and eat breakfast to take my antibiotic but it is sunday and i don’t actually want to be awake so i think i’m going back to bed

i am never letting anyone talk me into taking another NSAID ever fucking again.

#laurelnose.txt

17 notes · View notes

gwilymz · 2 years

Text

filthy f*cking rich--part three

hey! here is part three; i made it quite a bit longer, as it’s more of a build up chapter + i have a wild couple of weeks coming up, so im not certain i’ll have time to write a lot! i hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to give me feedback; i love reading your thoughts for motivation!

Synopsis: Filled with guilt about what happened, you debate telling Rava, but don’t want to ruin everything you’ve built. But you’re certain it will never happen again, so what’s the harm in leaving out the truth?

Word Count: 5.1k

Warning: Mention of drugs/alcohol, very tiny allusion to SA if you really squint

What was beautiful about October in New York–the molting trees, chartreuses turning to ochres and the visible metamorphosis from alive to dead–was gone, replaced with the silver sleet of brand new snow, the christening of December in the city. You were cold–freezing, actually–waiting for the subway. It was a Thursday, your least favorite day of the week. The day when every menial, trivial little thing you did each day before began to catch up to you, and you asked yourself: what the fuck am I doing? Waking up at seven, class at eight, and then another, and then another. Picking up Iverson and Sophie from school, pretending you had money, privilege, the comfort of the elite family you were paid to blend into three nights a week. Seeing their life, it made you wonder why the most wealthy always seemed to be the most wracked with unfathomable stress. Was that what made them rich? Was it that seething inability to let go, that primal drive for the top slot, the make-believe ceremony into the glistening one percent?

The job was almost depressing. Depressing, because you liked it so much, and eventually, you had to go back to shitty studio apartments and bugging millenial men at hole-in-the-wall bars for free shots. It was easy; Iverson and Sophie weren’t perfect kids, but they were fun, smart, independent. That fun age where they weren’t indoctrinated into thinking everything was so dumb and embarrassing. And, they were exceptionally excited, curious. Plus, you liked Rava–no, you loved her. She was charming, funny, beautiful, charismatic: the list goes on and on. And on and on if you really thought hard about it. But that was the thing about her. You didn’t have to think hard. You could smoke a cigarette with her in the backyard, you could tell her about boy problems, and she could tell you about failed first dates, and how hard she was trying to make amends with her husband, who she iterated, was her soon to be ex-husband. You were open with her, and she wanted to be more than just the woman who paid your rent and then some.

Which is why you felt bad, arriving at Rava’s apartment that night. It was dark outside but only seven, the time of the year where you felt productivity should be a choice, a two hour obligation at most. You knocked on the door, rubbing your numbed hands together. Your fingers were prickly, but the anxiety in your stomach prickled more, explaining why you hadn’t bothered to eat all day. You had thought that burning, profound guilt in the pit of your gut would have subsided by now, at least a little. But, in fact, it had just gotten worse. Every joke, laugh, hug–everything you shared with Rava was tinged with that bitter tang of betrayal, and it felt disgusting.

Rava answered the door, pushing some dangly earrings into her lobes, long, delicate and gold. You stupidly wondered if Kendall had bought her those.

“Hey, Y/N!” She smiled, ushering you in. “I’m so sorry for taking long, I thought Sophie was answering, I don’t know where she is–fuck, I’m flustered.” She shut the door behind you, slipping the other earring in. “I’m going on a date tonight, I thought why not, you know?”

You bent down, untying your sneakers. “Hey, no judgement. If anything, it’s a free dinner. But I hope it goes well, better than the last one at least.” Kicking off your shoes, you stood up. Rava took your coat, always so hospitable.

“Yeah, no shit. Anything could be better.” She rolled her eyes, big and brown. You knew why Kendall had married her. Fuck. “Speaking of dates, I kind of went on one with Kendall. Last week.”

You tried not to give a reaction. “Oh, shit, Rava, how did that go? Should I be offering my condolences?” You quirked your eyebrows; your interest had been piqued.

“Um, it was interesting. Pretty bad,” She admitted. “Could tell he had snorted a line–or four–before; he practically begged me to come out to dinner with him, talked himself up to me for an hour and then confessed he was still in love with me.”

You were somehow shocked, yet unsurprised. The meaning of mutually exclusive seemed to not exist anymore. “Wow,” You walked with her to the kitchen, where Sophie and Iverson weren’t listening; they were tuned in to their iPads, dead to the world. “I mean, is he wanting to get back together, to scrap the divorce? He seems very unstable, all of this behavior, at least leads to the thought.”

“Unstable doesn’t even scratch the surface, Y/N.” She poured you a glass of water. “Do me a favor, don’t marry a rich guy. It seems fun, but they’re fucking insane. All the money with none of the emotional availability. I swear I never knew what the fuck was happening with him until we split up.” She waited for you to take a sip, lowering her voice. “Yeah, he does want to get back together, actually. I–don’t want the kids to know. It will get their hopes up, and Kendall is kind of fucking infamous for doing that to them–to everybody, actually. I just can’t though.”

“Understandable,” you quipped. It was. “That’s just–I don’t even know what to say.”

“Me neither, I didn’t know what to say. Or do. I just wish he could move on. I want to be friendly, of course, but I can’t deal with the whole wining and dining and acting like I owe him something. He’s barely here, and when he’s here, he’s not here, you know? I just wish he would fuck someone else, get a distraction. Like, I wish I didn’t have to be the bitch anymore.” She was flustered, visibly annoyed by him, by the ordeal, by its effect on her children. She took a sip of tap water. “Listen, I’m sorry for dumping that on you. You’re young, no need to worry about marriage and all that. Seriously, revel in your youth. I’m jealous of you.” And just like that, she shrugged everything away. Off her shoulders, and onto your own. She hadn’t meant it that way, but your back was starting to become sore from carrying the shards of unspoken promises, broken and heavy.

You laughed, trying not to let your anxiety seep through its guilty sound. “You don’t have to tell me twice. But seriously. I think the distraction is good. I don’t know if you feel guilty about the dates, but don’t. You deserve somebody new. A distraction, at least.”

Rava clutched her hand to her chest, bunching her eyebrows together. “Y/N,” She cooed. “So sweet. I seriously am so lucky to have found you. Fate’s mysterious, isn’t it?”

And then she left, huddled under the arm of a tall attorney, blond and smiley, full of laughs that sounded genuine. Kendall would probably despise him.

Resting your head on the kitchen island, you sighed. Rava had sent the kids upstairs to finish their homework, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Thus began the tri-weekly tug-of-war between whether to maintain your innocent, clueless veneer or to tell your boss-slash-friend that her ex-husband-who-stil-loves-her fucked you six weeks ago. Rava was right; fate was mysterious. And in that particular instance, you fucking hated it.

–

At eleven-thirty, the kids were asleep. Probably not, but they were in their rooms, at least. You were on the couch in the living room, working on a final paper, something simple, but time consuming. Feeling a low vibration under your butt, you fumbled to grab your phone.

“Hey,” You answered, opting to put earbuds in to quell the noise. “What’s up?” It was Libby and Amelia.

“I mean nothing, just procrastinating. You at Rava’s?” Amelia asked. You could hear her lighting a cigarette.

“Yeah, she’s on a date. I’ll probably be here ‘til one.” You closed your laptop.

“Long date.” Libby chimed in. “Listen, we are going out tomorrow. You’re fucking going.”

“No, I’m not.” You laughed, running a hand through your hair.

“Dude, why the fuck not?” She groaned.

“I’m tired, for one. I just paid rent, for two.”

“Shut up, Y/N, I know your hourly rate.” Amelia took a drag, stifling a small cough. “No need to be coy about it.”

“Can I say something? ‘Cause Amelia and I have been talking about how fucking weird you have been.”

“Since when? It’s nothing personal, I’m just tired. Once finals–”

“Okay, no.” Amelia interrupted. “Ever since, like, fucking October, you’ve been weird. And we were kind of backtracking to see if it was something regarding us, but we think it was that club.”

“Okay, you’re backtracking now?” You scoffed. “Why are we sleuthing? And what club are you talking about?” Of course, you knew exactly what club. You hadn’t even stepped within a 100 foot radius of a club since that night–a hard feat for living in Manhattan.

“The last time you went out!” Amelia responded, lighting another Camel Crush. “You went home with that rich guy, and we are concerned, is all. Not trying to pry, it just feels like maybe–”

“Maybe what?” You heard a door open upstairs. Getting up, you moved to the bathroom to your left.

“Maybe he–”

“Okay, no. I appreciate your concern, but no. It was good.”

“That’s great, Y/N, and you don’t like, owe us information, but we also think it’s weird you are kind of refusing to tell us anything about it.” Libby added.

“Yeah, I know. I haven’t told you guys anything about it but–” You sighed, turning on the faucet to drown some of the noise out. The thing was, you really shouldn’t tell them. You wanted to. You also didn’t. The best option–the logical option–was to bury it deep down, hope to forget about it, and pray that whatever force of fate which created this depraved dynamic wouldn’t be cruel enough for Kendall to figure out it existed in the first place. But, keeping it locked up felt wrong, and who would your friends tell? They’d never meet Rava, nor Kendall, nor the kids. It had an allure. “Fuck, I can’t.”

“Okay, we really don’t want to pry but now we have to fucking know. So, we’re prying.” Amelia said.

“Drop the mysterious shit right now.” Libby muttered.

“Fuck! Okay!” You needed to tell someone. Any third party. You were surrendering. Your throat was dry, and it felt like a sign for you to keep your mouth shut, to swallow these poisonous words and hope they didn’t fucking kill you. “I have to whisper. Even then, I really shouldn’t.”

“Is it actually that dramatic?” Libby asked.

“Okay, shut up.”

And then you told them. About his finger caked in coke, the flirty remarks and stolen touches at the club. The private driver, the perfect penthouse, the dirty sex, the heavily connoted name. Kendall Roy.

“And?” Libby scoffed.

“And.” You swallowed; there wasn’t a sound on the other lines. “And, my boss. Her name is Rava Roy.”

Both of them gasped simultaneously. “There is no fucking way.”

You shushed them, content on keeping the contents of the call within the safe haven of the downstairs bathroom, hidden in the cranberry candle scented air. “And I don’t need it getting out. To anyone.”

“Okay, well.” Amelia urged.

“Well, what,” You whisper-yelled.

“If you didn’t know that he was their dad and her ex beforehand then obviously he’s not very involved–”

“--Yes, meaning he is a piece of shit, deadbeat dad. And that he’s likely a privileged little slut.”

“--Also meaning, there’s like, no chance he will find out. Or that she will.” Amelia continued. “He was a good fuck; it was a coincidence. You didn’t even know until after the fact.”

Libby interrupted. “Yeah, I mean it would be completely different and fucked if you had known the whole time, but you didn’t so, just a freaky coincidence. Big whoop. It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, I mean I guess, but do you at least see why I’m freaking the fuck out?” You asked. Realizing the water was still running, you turned off the faucet, pressing an ear to the door to listen for any eavesdropping or the soft padding of socks downstairs. Sophie was keen on midnight snacks.

“Yes,” Libby replied. “Definitely.”

“Plus,” You interjected, leaning your back against the door, assessing that the coast was, in fact, clear. “Rava confides in me and tells me a strange amount about their dynamic. Last week he like, tried to fuck her and confessed he’s still in love with her and that he wants to get back with her.”

“And does she want that?”

“No, but–” you sighed. “I really fucking like this job, and Rava and the kids and the fucking money. And I’m just fucking guilty. And I feel like this means he’s like, wanting to be more present in their lives, which is good, but also sucks because I don’t want to be a bitch, because Sophie and Iverson deserve that but–”

“Okay, Y/N, take a deep breath. It’s okay.” Amelia interjected.

You sighed, taking her advice, holding your breath and counting to ten. “I want him to be better for their sake. But if I’m here three nights a week, and he’s back in their lives consistently, I’m bound to see him eventually.”

You hung up, not wanting to keep thinking it over, not wanting anyone else’s mistaken advice. You could quit, but there were practically no pros on that side of the chart. You would lose your income, have to get a job that required actual labor, and get paid a quarter of your current wage. Plus you would lose touch with Rava, and the kids.

And maybe, just maybe, the tiny little devil on your shoulder was also a little bummed that you would be further removed from Kendall. Because as much as you had thought about him within the context of Rava and your job, and Sophie and Iverson, you also couldn’t stop thinking about the way he kissed you and how the bassy sound of his voice in your ear made your back arch. And that–admitting that little pang of disappointment stemmed from a small crush on Kendall Roy–was what pissed you off the most about the entire situation.

–

Friday night came quickly, and you had forgotten about your ordeal, as you had so endearingly decided to call it, a shorthand for the cause of your biweekly panic attacks and the reason why therapists near me was your most recent Google search. It wasn’t by your own doing; Amelia and Libby had all but forced you to take a few tequila shots with them, a celebration of the weekend and a triumphant end of the fall semester.

“What club are we going to?” You asked, fake gagging as you handed Libby another tequila shot; a smell akin to hand sanitizer and nail polish remover wafted into your nose.

“Not a club,” She responded, slamming the shot back. “We thought it might be a little more wise if we eased you back into things.”

“Ease me back into things? So a bar?” You laughed, holding up two different tops, a silent inquiry as to which one fit better for the occasion.

“Not a bar either,” Amelia pointed to the black one, a low cut and lacy number that was somehow as slutty as it was classy. “Some guy invited us to a party at his ‘big boy house’ as he called it.”

You dropped the shirt onto your bed, confused. “What the fuck?” Pulling your t-shirt off over your head, you turned to face them. “What guy? We are not going to some random guy’s ‘big boy house’.”

“I don’t remember his name. Don’t think he gave it to us.” Amelia shrugged.

“Okay, well that’s somehow the least of my concerns right now.”

Libby shimmied into a tight dress, pulling the straps over her arm. “It’s fine. We can check it out and see how many people are there and dip if it's sketchy. No big deal.”

Amelia shrugged. “We just thought it was a different scene. If you really don’t wanna go–”

“--No, I’ll go. I’m just high strung right now. If this guy holds us hostage in his closet, though, I’m fucking killing you both first.”

“Yeah, fair,” Amelia leaned out your window, smoking a cigarette. The night was cold, the cars on the street more obnoxious than usual, thanks to the taupe sludge which lined the streets and gutters of every corner of the city. “Trust us, though,” She exhaled. “He really does not seem like the type to have it in him.”

“Yeah,” you quipped. “That’s kinda the point–it’s how they always get away with it.”

“Well then, we might as well make the best of it and have fun.” Amelia took a swig of warm pink lemonade; it was the only thing available to chase with.

“Okay, do you want to take the subway or walk? Walking is a little longer, but I’m not sure about the delays.” Libby sat next to you, pointing to where you were going.

“The Upper East Side?” You zoomed in on her screen, sighing. “I guess it’s not, like, horrifically far, but how did you even get in contact with this guy?”

“Coffee shop in the financial district. Libby was on coffee break from her internship.”

“Yeah,” Libby interjected. “I mean, he was telling a lot of people about it. It was weird, but like, we don’t have anything else to do.”

“Yes, it is weird. Very American Psycho.” You pointed to the fastest route, settling on taking the subway to conserve your energy.

“Like we said, we will see. No problem.”

You arrived at the address around one, regretting that your sherpa lined coat wasn’t draped over your shoulders. You had only had to walk a couple minutes from the station, but it was one of those sharp, heavy colds that stung your nose and pricked your skin immediately upon contact.

There was definitely a party; bassy house music seeped through the floor-to-ceiling windows, floating downwards to where you stood. Libby dialed someone on her phone; he was under the name Tall Party Dude.

“Hey,” She said. It seemed he had answered quickly. “Me and my friends are outside. Do I need to buzz, or–”

You could hear through her phone the lively chatter around him. It quickly got shut out by the slam of a door, the padding of clicky footsteps down cement stairs. “Okay, yeah. I’ll just come let you up. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Libby hung up. “See?” She shrugged, alluding to his meek demeanor.

A lanky man opened the front door, sheathed in sweat and a look of pure discomfort. He smiled sheepishly at your group, ushering you into the building. The sound inside was pure, uncontaminated; it was obvious nobody else lived in the building, although there were obviously multiple units housed inside.

“I’m Greg,” He waved, ducking down to climb up the stairs. “The elevators don’t really work right now. Not very accessible of a building, but–”

You all introduced yourselves, taking in the magnitude of the penthouse with a childish awe. The ceilings were massively high, causing the music to float and echo, bouncing off of clean, white walls. There was little furniture inside; it looked like it was barely lived in, a skeleton of a home, just for sleeping, and well, parties, you guessed. It reminded you so clearly of–

“Kendall!” Greg pushed through a small group of boys who looked to be about your age, a flock huddled around the kitchen counter.

Holy fuck. You spun around, searching for refuge: a chair, a place to blend in, the easiest exit, a balcony, even. Amelia and Libby were already smoking a joint with two men who looked to be pushing thirty-five and forty.

You could have left; the door was huge, inviting, and right in front of you. Calling to you. But you knew your friends would get worried and follow you, plus you didn’t want to ruin the night; Libby and Amelia had been over the moon when you finally agreed to coming along. Taking a deep breath, you told yourself–and the tequila-drunk devil on your shoulder–that you weren’t going to talk to him. No, you weren’t even going to look at him.

–

Greg ran a hand through his poorly-gelled hair. He didn’t think it was that poorly done, but Tom was getting fed up being Greg’s version of Mr. Miyagi for business etiquette, so he had promptly given up on the task of fixing Greg’s physical appearance. His dopey-awkward-young-man look would have to suffice, and God, that boy was lucky nepotism existed.

“Hey, Kendall,” Greg cooed, grabbing his wrist. He was after the little paper straw grasped between Kendall’s pointer finger and thumb. “Let’s just go easy tonight.”

Kendall shooed his hand away, pulling his wrist back. “Fuck you, it’s a party. I just fuckin’ gifted you this home. Let me live.” He flicked his baggie of coke, the fine white powder jumping to coat the sides.

“Yes, you’re right. But, like, you’ve already done some tonight, and I just feel like there’s a lot of people you could talk to here. Like, women and stuff.”

“Yeah, I know I’ve done some. Coke, I mean.” Kendall scoffed, cutting three lines with his credit card. It was heavy; the dark chrome shimmered under the dim, overhead lights of the apartment as he moved it languidly. “And now,” He sing-songed. “I will be doing some more!”

“Come on,” Greg attempted to take his sacred paraphernalia, but was quickly blocked by Kendall’s free hand, which slapped him away hurriedly, giving him just enough time to bend down and snort. It felt like a cat fight, like he was seven and being bullied by his much older, brooding brother. “You said you wanted–pussy,” Greg whispered. “I feel like this is a good time to go for that. And maybe to chill. With the drugs.”

Kendall guffawed, using his thumb to wipe the fallen powder from around his flared nostril. “Greg,” He slapped a hand on his shoulder. “I think it would be a better idea if we got you some pussy. You are fuckin’ ridiculous.”

“I don’t know I’m not–”

“Not what?” Kendall leaned forward, taunting. His elbows rested on his knees, sleeves rolled up. His arms were warm; he could feel his heart pulsing through his wrists; it was fast, fluttering, and seemed to coincide with the bass of whatever clubby song was coursing through each chamber of the apartment. “Cousin Greg, do you have something to tell me?” He feigned shock.

“No, I don’t, I just–”

“Greg, there are so many women here. Just, like, look around and–” Kendall gestured to the entirety of the apartment; it was organized like the sea. Schools of people weaved around each other, occupying the kitchen, the foyer, the living room where the two of them now sat, facing each other on pristine white love seats. New, expensive. Kendall’s eyes had scanned everywhere and everyone, and he had landed on who he thought was you, the pretty girl he somehow took home. The one who was profoundly clever, who sported coy smiles and outfits that wouldn’t work on anyone else. He knew it was you without even seeing your face; there was that same force he felt back in October, a hypnotic clarity, a tunnel-vision, leading to where you were leaning, back towards him, the light of your phone a halo, beckoning him to you. Kendall became stoic, determined. “Greg, see that girl in the corner?” He asked.

Greg looked to the corner behind him. “What girl?”

Kendall pushed him to look the other way. “Obviously not the corner without a fucking girl in it.”

“Okay, jeez. Yeah, I do see her.”

Kendall pushed one of his sleeves up. “Go over there. Get her to come over here.”

“Man, why can’t you?” Greg sighed, slouching.

“Because I’m fucking asking you to do it.” Kendall stared at him, unflinching. It was easy, with awkward silence and persistence, to make Greg do whatever he wanted.

“Fuck, fine.” Greg scratched his head, leaning forward. His eyebrows were permanently furrowed, anxiety tattooed in his face. “What do you want me to say to her?”

Kendall didn’t know; there was a lot on his mind. He was hot but also fucking freezing. His nose tingled. His dad hated him, and so did the rest of his family. He wanted to know why you didn’t stay, and he wanted to know why he even cared. And, shallowly, he wanted to fuck you again, fast, slow–he didn’t fucking care. He wanted a lot; that was always the source of his suffering, and why it was so ubiquitous, an infection plaguing every facet of his life, the self-fulfilling prophecy that cycled round and round forever.

He spoke up, realizing the silence had overstayed its welcome. “Um, not sure. You need to learn some fucking game. Just figure it out.”

“But–”

“I swear to God, Greg.”

“Fine.”

He strode over to you quickly; it took him half as many strides as the average person. Not knowing the right course of action, he tapped on your shoulder, making you jump.

“Fuck, you scared me.” You turned your phone off, looking up at the tall stranger whose living room corner you were getting to know so well.

“My bad,” He began. “I just–my friend over there–well, not my friend. My cousin. Slash boss, maybe? He wanted you to come over to him.”

Peering behind him, your expectations matched the man you were looking at. His legs were spread, arms behind his head, eyes closed. Sunken into the love seat, he should have looked at peace, comfortable, at least. Instead, he looked a little bit miserable. Kendall was an enigma; you knew almost everything about his personal life, from Rava, from your obsessive research after making the horrid connection back in October. But you still didn’t understand him. And you didn’t think anybody else did either.

Locking eyes with the tall man–Greg–again, you crossed your arms. “Why can’t he ask me? Plus, I’m not interested.”

“He wants me to develop my skills. Communication skills.”

“Okay, that's pathetic, and not true.”

“Why do you think that?” Greg scratched his neck, a telltale sign of his being uncomfortable.

“I just know that’s not the reason. Call it a hunch.”

“Well,” Greg gestured. “What should I tell him?”

You peered past Greg’s willowy silhouette again. This time Kendall’s eyes were open, and they were stuck on you, large, unwavering. His pupils were heavily dilated; whether it was from lust or cocaine, you couldn’t be certain. Possibly both. Definitely both.

“Tell him,” You began, eyes still on Kendall. “If he wants to talk, he’ll have to come to me himself.”

You knew he had sent Greg over as a buffer; you had practically made a beeline to the street from his penthouse that night. It was abrupt, and you never gave him an explanation. But telling him you were his childrens’ babysitter while he was strung out and you drunk–well, that wasn’t an option.

Greg had already gone back to Kendall. You could see them bickering; Kendall’s eyebrows were woven together, eyes firm on his target: you. Pulling at the top few buttons of his pressed white shirt, Kendall stood up, coming your way.

You had obviously seen him striding towards you, confident from three vodka sodas and sporting that signature look of his— a semi pout paired with his sad, furrowed brows–but you were still surprised when stopped right in front of you, looking confused. As if you owed him a curtsy and a blowjob right then and there.

“Y/N,” He began. It was obvious he didn’t know where he was going with this; rich men are always taken aback when they don’t immediately get their way, and Kendall was no different. He sort of expected you to be the obedient girl you had been in his penthouse that night, wrapped around his fingers, malleable, awaiting any and every command he gave you.

“Yes?” You encouraged.

Kendall backed you against the wall, his palm flush against the wall as he literally cornered you. “I’m just confused, is all.”

“Did I do something confusing? I thought I was clear when I left your place.”

“Clear about what?” He questioned. “It was clear you became uncomfortable and then booked it out of there.”

You pretended to think. “So, your response to that is to literally back me into a wall at a party, where you’re clearly strung out on something?”

Kendall opted to stand next to you, peeling his hand off the exposed brick. “Yeah, point taken.” He agreed. “But, I don’t know.”

“We can’t see each other.” You said. “Is what I was trying to be clear about.”

“Okayyyy–” He bit his lip, tilting his head back to look at the tall ceilings, tinged purple from whatever shitty party lights Greg had bought for the occasion. “But it’s interesting that we ran into each other again.”

You shrugged. “Maybe to you.”

“It is interesting to me.” His pointer finger dragged across your jaw, softly tilting your head to look his way. His eyes were gigantic, behind his pupils were pretty brown irises, tinged in green; the lights in the apartment had changed. “It’s also interesting that you’re still here. If you can’t see me so bad.”

You shrugged, looking down at the floor, your scuffed sneakers.

“Why can’t you see me? Why is that exactly?”

“Why do you want to?”

“I don’t know, actually.” He admitted. “I asked myself the same thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled his collar, bringing him closer. “I think it’s just the drugs and the alcohol and the coincidence that I’m here right now that’s making you feel this way. But trust me, when I leave here tonight, you’ll never see me again.”

That, of course, was extremely unlikely to be true. In fact, you didn’t know why you had said it at all. Each new day you spent babysitting for Rava was a new chance for Kendall to come by to her mossy brownstone, begging for forgiveness, an unnumbered new chance.

“Hm,” He placed his palm on the small of your back, pulling you against him. You could feel his heartbeat against you. “I guess we will just have to see.”

His thumb brushed across your bottom lip, beckoning you to look up at him. He wasn’t holding you tight, and with the movement of the party, the two of you had migrated even closer to the door. To freedom. To the chance to do the right thing.

The devil on your shoulder won, after all, because when Kendall pushed his tongue into your mouth, you moaned with a sense of relief, as if you had been in desperate anticipation of him forever. A part of you, when he grabbed your face to pull you even closer, realized you had been, in a way.

#kendall roy #kendall roy fic #kendall roy fanfic #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy smut #succession #greg hirsch #roman roy #tom wambsgans #succession fic #succession fanfic #succession x reader

189 notes · View notes

himbo-klown · 2 months

Text

Satisfaction

Warning not prof read, grammar mistakes(naw like i suck at writing lmao), this post is just for fun, i also dont know how to use tumbler so like… this kinda looks ugly lol

Theme warnings!! This post does contain themes of mental illness, cannibalism used as a metaphor for love , violence, disruption of a grave, the main character is not a good person but hes not like… a monster??!. (If yall think i need to add other things then just say so pls!!) THE MAIN CHARACTERS CRINGE PLEASE!!!

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Little bit of context: This story is a submission for a creative writing contest! The theme was Taboo romance and I decided that a horror/thriller would be fun! If you know me irl or recognize this… no you don’t lmao?!?

This story is based off of the intense feelings that i have for my partner that i feel i’m not able to properly explain at times(im in therapy do guys lols) there’s also some refs to things we like lol

October 26th, 2023

It was never hard to tell that I was different from the other boys in school, or anybody for that matter. I was the kid girls would say ‘My homeboy wants you’ to or the kinda guy that was asked out as a joke, it got old after 5th grade but never stopped. Senior year was by far the worst one of them all, his name was Keith, and he wasn’t super pretty or anything like that, he was a nerd who would walk me to my bus stop and ramble on and on about how different Pokémon gods symbolized different things. I honestly liked him and he was cute, but i more than liked him, i wanted him all to myself, i still have a few of his leg hairs lying around; i like to sniff them to try and imagine how he tastes slow cooked like oxtail.

December 15th, 2023

Nevermind he’s a weirdo and it turned out he liked Pokémon in unholy ways[someone check on his dog please], his meat was tainted so I lost interest in him. But my eyes didn't take long to wonder, there was a boy who was Canadian and he seemed rather nice, no he was beyond the kindness that any human should be able to give. He was like taking a bite of my first love [which i didn't know what it felt like, but i was guessing it was nice.] I loved talking to him honestly, he woke up around 8am and went to sleep at 12am but sometimes we went all night. I had no problem risking my sleep for him[it's not like my AP classes would be any better.] He was intoxicating, to say the least.

January 10th, 2024

I wanted him badly, like I wanted to wake up next to him, kiss him, hug him, I wanted to wine and dine him if I ever got the chance . The only problem was that well…he lived in Canada, he always talked of how he had mixed feelings about his country and I always told him that it could be worse. I mean he could be here for all he cares, but I'd never want my meat to be tainted by this land, these people[I'm such a proud American]. So I was going to go to him. I decided to save for the month. It was going to take a few overtime shifts and even snagging a couple of bucks from some buds but I was going to get the money and make it to canada.

February 10th, 2024

The plane ride was rather boring without being able to text him, and even more so because the woman next to me didn't know social etiquette, like I was supposed to care that she got unlucky with life and contracted chlamydia. There was also this brony, which I found a sin in itself, but he smelled… like bad but it also made me snicker because it just reminds me of keith.

February 11th, 2024 6:27pm

Canada was a beautiful place but I had no reason to stay and admire it when all I cared for was my own appetite. But i couldn't help but let childish implusies pull me into a store full of valentine's day sales, what caught my eyes are the matching trolls cups, i couldn't help but get them wanting to see the response he would give to the gift[I love my adult money privileges].

February 12th-15th[was… busy?]

I felt bad for him hes so nice and kind, so nice he just took me in without a second thought about how I found him or his home, we took a tour of his room and its nice it was just as nerdish as him, but i came here with a plan and i came here to execute it as such. His skin was nice, so I took some as my own and it hurt a lot. I think I splashed some blood on his favorite blanket, but anywho, why is the human skull so hard ? I thought it was gonna be like a nut and would just take a few hacks to crack it open but noooo he just had to be hard headed. I did get it open[almost breaking my wrist doing so] but I had no plans for a meal, I mean it's not every day you just cook up some brain, but we managed. I ended up using the brain for spaghetti; I mashed it all up to make meat balls and must I say they were delicious. His brain was so tender, it melted like butter, but it also had a slight chew to it, not a taint in sight. The ‘wine’ I had with it was a little thick but it was his so I drank without complaint. I was also quite proud of my cup purchase :D. Poppy was right… trolls do just wanna have fun

???, 2024 2:34 AM

My head hurt, like a lot, I thought eating my love would make me feel better and full. Yet here I stand before his grave, my arms barely mobile as I dug him out, freeing him from the pits of the afterlife without me. A month he left me alone, a month with this hunger for more of him. His stupid casket was the thing that stood between me and my love, my satisfaction of being full.

There he was, as beautiful as the day I feasted upon him. I took my shirt off to show him that I still kept a piece of him with me. I touched his skin on my chest as I looked at mine on his. Death would never do us part so long as he had me attached to him. I would go through the redemptions of purgatory to see him flutter in the clouds of heaven. It felt like a sin to touch him again, to feel him to embrace him as I laid to rest beside him. Fresh tears poured down my face as I pulled the cover over the casket. This time I am not left behind, this time I am not alone.

“W-why — Why has your body left me so full, so satisfied. Yet I am starved for your love to grace me again.” I murmured softly as I caressed his face.

——————————————————————————————————

I hope you guys liked this… cus um im super proud of it even if it didn’t win!!!

#cannibalistic #horror #tabooromance #creative writing #dont do this shit #i do not condone #pls be nice #idk how tags work

4 notes · View notes

kaija-rayne-author · 4 months

Text

I wrote something hard today. It's long. Please mind the content warnings, this one is heavy.

We Must Remember

ON DECEMBER 30, 2023 BY KAELENRHY/Kaija Rayne

Content Warnings: AIDS epidemic, queer death, queer abuse, child abuse, child neglect, mention of attempted rape, sexual harassment in the form of catcalling and whistling.

My generation of queers, the ones who came of age in the middle of losing most of a generation of our queer siblings… we don’t talk about it.

It’s got to be pretty obvious why we don’t. I can’t think of a queer person who knew they were queer who didn’t lose someone. And we all lost when it comes to some people. Freddie Mercury, for one, the lead singer of Queen. He died a day after announcing his diagnosis in 1991. He was 45 years old.

And there were so many others.

I’ve been aware of the lack of people who lived through it talking about this for a while. But it really brought it home to me when I asked my eldest, who is openly queer, if they knew what the AIDS quilt was. They didn’t. And generally, they’re interested in queer history, so tend to be better informed than a lot of queer youth about our collective history. It helps that I was a history teacher at one time and have always lived and breathed teaching it to anyone willing to learn.

So, here’s a story from a time I hope never to see again, but one which, when I look at the world, I deeply fear is coming back.

The moral panic we see now is like déjà vu for people like me. It was this exact same moral panic that caused medicine, and most of humanity, to completely ignore it as loved ones died. To treat human beings without the care or respect any human being deserves simply by drawing breath.

I grew up in the mountains in a very Christian cult-like atmosphere. It was honestly so close to being an actual cult. There really is such a minuscule difference. But it wasn’t an official cult. Just… very poor people backbiting each other any way they could. Praying like good people on Wednesdays and Sundays, but doing anything they wanted every other day of the week. You’d think with all the mountains around, they’d have anything better to do than gossip. But gossip ran as life’s blood. The internet didn’t yet exist in private homes in that piss hole in a snowbank. There were 3 churches in the town, and 6 bars. For 300 people. The closest store was a good 20-minute drive away, the closest library an hour.

Christ, it’s hard to remember these things. It’s been 33 ish years since this story happened in real life, and I still don’t want to revisit it.

But it’s important.

The memory of this day is ingrained on the inside of my skin. I can almost feel the heavy summer sun.

Sad Summer Day

I’m around 14 years old. I’m barefoot, because my family doesn’t see the point of buying shoes for summer wear. Feet toughen up just fine.

I’m wearing a fourth or fifth-hand t-shirt that is far too see-through and cut-off jean shorts. The tickling of the strings falling against my thighs as I walk is a soothing sensation to me. I’m finished with my chores, the horses are cared for, the dog fed, the abusive younger sibling has stopped screaming and throwing things at me because I wasn’t a suitable big sister and had gone to hide in her room. I’m an embarrassment to my allistic sister. I’m an embarrassment to my mother too. If she ever crawls out of the bottle long enough to give a shit about anyone. My brother lives elsewhere.

I stink. I don’t know that or understand it, but I stink. Getting clean means swimming in a scummy mountain lake most evenings. My mother hasn’t taught me anything about personal hygiene. She smokes like a damned chimney and always smells of booze. There is no way I don’t smell bad. We had bath nights once a week in the winter. The only reason I knew my period was a thing was school health class.

I hang around in the barn a lot. Or in the ancient maple tree in the pasture. Ar Bazara is my beautiful Arabian mare. Her hide is the stunning red of particularly vociferous sunsets. She often patiently lets me lie on her back with a book open on her rump while she grazes. My new goat, Esmerelda, is still adjusting to not being the house goat she was used to being. She’s miserable, mourning her friend and old life. I do what I can, but it doesn’t help very much. Goats grieve as much as humans do, maybe more so.

It’s my job, and escape, to walk to town and get the mail for my father, who works more than not, and can’t get to the post before it closes at 5pm. I have no idea when or if my mother will come stumbling in blind drunk.

I hope to see my friend, who lives at the top of the road to the post office. He hasn’t been feeling well. Wrapped up in a quilt in his mother’s rocking chair on the porch is how I’ve been finding him lately. It’s not very odd, it never gets truly warm in the mountains, so people in heavier clothes or a blanket around their shoulders isn’t uncommon. I think nothing of it.

He’s a relatively recent addition to my life. He moved into his mother’s house last year. Esmeralda had been his, but he’d asked me to take her last week and love her like he did. I really don’t see it coming, or maybe I don’t want to add up the clues.

He’s my only friend there. He looks much older to me, but in reality, is likely in his late twenties. He wears dark tortoise-shell rimmed glasses, always has interesting books to read and ideas to discuss. He’d made it out of the mountains, so has seen so much more of the world I long desperately to experience for myself. His butterscotch blond hair is always a curly mess, and he’s always running his hand through it. I hope I can sit on his porch steps, picking at splinters, while he tells me another story. I’m not supposed to talk to him. No one does in that town. We might catch it, if we do so much as look at him. But I like him, and he treats me like a combination of younger sister and wild animal. He always speaks in such a gentle, calm tone. A tone I never hear at home. Except for the day he gave me Esmerelda. He couldn’t talk through the tears he was trying to hide.

My aunt lives next to him and warns me away every time she sees me. I suppose she likely told my parents, but my parents either aren’t there or are drunk. He’s the only adult in that town other than my grandmother, who even sees me. Much less talks to me like I’m a person. My aunt is happy enough to take his money to make an extra portion of food for him when she cooks for her family every day. She drops it off on the porch and will only take the dishes back if they’re soaking in bleach water when she comes to get them.

I’m tanned dark brown. My mother kicks us out as soon as the snow melts and we’re expected to stay out until dusk. But I’ve got my summer colour, my hair is frizzy from the yearly perms, and sun-bleached. The stench of lemon juice in my hair is still strong, but I know better than to not use it every morning. Having my mother yank the black, spiral hairs out of my head hurts worse. But I hate the smell of lemon juice in my hair.

It’s a short walk to a mountain child. Though if you’d called me a child then it would’ve infuriated me.

I am still a child, a very naïve one. I only know the words gay and lesbian because I’ve read the OED cover to cover. But they’re nascent, formless concepts to me. I’m in the midst of my first crush. A girl in my class with the prettiest brown eyes and lush, curly hair. But, I’ve told no one.

There’s sand on the sides of the beaten-up tarmac of the road. I’m avoiding walking on the road itself because prickers from wild roses and blackberry bushes are vastly preferable to burnt feet.

In shade areas, the mounded sand is cool, a treat to dig my toes into, and there’s a place where rain makes interesting patterns in the sand. I stop there for a short time to look at the swirling patterns in that section. It’s different every time it rains.

The air is heavy, like a wet wool blanket, presaging another evening rainstorm. I cuss because it means I won’t get to swim that night. If I want to rinse off, it’ll be in the cold rain. Hopefully, there won’t be thunder. Loamy earth and the particular faintly metallic scent of slightly damp, lichen-covered stone coat my tongue with a musky taste. The lighter, higher sweet honey note of spreading dogbane makes the walk smell like a slice of heaven. They’re poisonous, of course, but they’re beautiful and one of my favourites. Bunchberry shows little red splashes of colour. Orange hawkweed is blossoming, and so is the milkweed. Soon there will be so many monarch butterfly caterpillars I’ll have to watch where I step. The unnatural stench of old, oft-tarred tarmacadam adds an unwelcome element of human activity to the interesting scents.

The forest sings, murmuring to each other with the slight breeze that’s the only coolness I’ll find unless it rains. And the creaks and groans of the poplar and birch trees provide a symphony. I walk by my grandmother’s house. She’s outside tending to her flowers and checking the bird feeders, so I wave instead of meandering over. My grandmother loves to talk. I’ll stop on the way back. I’m later than usual going to get the mail because of my sister’s abusive outburst.

My hands are stuffed in the far too small front pockets of my shorts. My hand is tightly wrapped around the mail key. I always hold it in my fist, my father says it’s a trust, and I don’t want to blow it. A hopped-up pickup truck with a custom paint job, jacked tires, and glass-packs roars by. The boys inside and riding on the bed cat call me, but I don’t understand it.

By this time in my life, my mother has dived into a bottle and never looked back. She taught me to drink on hanged man’s bridge when I was 11. Vodka. She’d already moved on to vodka from wine by that time. In a lot of ways, I didn’t have a mother anymore, if I’d ever really had one at all in anything other than the physical sense.

It’s 1990. Big hair is falling out of fashion, but I still have the perm that my (at the time) stick-straight hair needs to look like Bon Jovi.

It’s mid-summer, the sun is high in the sky and it won’t get dark until after 9 pm. I won’t have to go inside until 10. The voracious bugs are preferable to listening to another argument. And Gram will let me in and likely feed me. Maybe my brother will be there.

As long as I’m on my father’s or grandmother’s land by dusk, I don’t have to go inside. The crab apples aren’t quite ready, but I pick one to eat, anyway. The bitter, tart juice is still green-flavoured, but it fends off my hunger. I didn’t get to eat my food; I cleaned it up from where my sister had thrown it at the wall and took it out to the hens. I wonder if they like grape jam?

It’s not the first time I’ve been hungry. Hunger is basically my ground state. So much so that I don’t even feel it when I’m hungry.

I pause on hanged man’s bridge. Just for a moment, while I warily scan the church parking lots at the end of the road.

They’d kicked me out when I was 12, but if the minister sees me, I’ll get scolded for breathing. I’m lucky, the lots are deserted and I continue on my way.

There’s no tree cover here, but there is down by the water. The beavers are busily building a dam that the men will burn come fall. It makes me sad because I can see kits with their parents. Beaver has a lot of fat in the fall, so it’s good meat.

I turn left at the end of the road and walk past another not-so-distant relative’s house. I stop for a moment to pet the Percheron workhorses who obligingly hang their heads over the fence so I can pluck handfuls of fresh green grass for them. Their slobber on my hands is green, but it doesn’t register as anything other than something to wipe off on my butt. I love these gentle giants, but the sun is lower in the sky, so I hurry on. I pass two more relatives’ houses. I have a tendency to walk with my gaze on the ground, partially to make sure I don’t step in anything, but partially in hope of finding a new, interesting stone or a bone for my collections.

So, I just… don’t notice. I’m in my own head a lot, working on stories. I started writing 3 years before.

There’s a sharp, rattling sound I associate with caster wheels and I look up.

My friend isn’t on the porch and he can’t tell me any more stories.

The glaring canary yellow of haz-mat suits screams brightly from his faded house. They look like aliens to me. Fierce, terrifying aliens. We don’t have TV, or rather, we don’t have TV reception, so the only reason I know what the suits are is because of my long habit of reading encyclopedias.

One of them is roughly handling his body as the other wraps a second roll of cellophane around him, over and over. They’re great yellow spiders as they finish wrapping my friend in cellophane and put him on the emergency bed from the ambulance. There aren’t any lights on, it’s turned off, and the driver has his booted foot hung out the window while he looks at a playboy. He whistles at me and winks. I hear one of the aliens say the body bags are too expensive to waste on trash. One of them fetches a floral sheet from my friend’s home. They wrap him in that.

I stand there like a rock has landed on my head.

I’m mute. I can’t even make myself move to go yell at them for laughing over my friend’s body and trading slurs for him as if it’s a game. Even if I were brave enough to confront adults. Which, I am not.

They very carefully take the gurney to the ambulance, avoiding all possible touch with the cellophane cocoon. The straps are so tight around my friend’s body that if he could feel them, he would have cried.

The doors make a doubled, muffled thump and the engine of the ambulance starts. It jerks me into movement, but I’m too late. They drive off.

They haven’t closed his kitchen door. So I do it, thinking in that odd way that he’ll be sad when he comes back to find it left open. I never have seen inside his house and I don’t breach his privacy as I close the door.

I have no way to lock it, and he told me he hasn’t any family left.

I step quickly down the top of the searing hot grey metal culvert cover to my aunt’s large backyard. I’m grateful to not run into my cousins. One of whom has already tried to rape me. I can fight him off if I have to, again, but all I need is to escape. I hopscotch across the brook and into the old potato field. I leap like a yearling deer from one mound to the next before I can disappear myself into the forested lands on my dad’s property. I practically live in the forest, and my friend’s habit of treating me like a wild animal isn’t off. I am.

The next thing I clearly remember is hugging Esmerelda’s neck, finally understanding why he’d asked me to take her.

Finally understanding a lot of things a 14-year-old probably shouldn’t have to think about.

I never did get the mail that day. I had to scour the area I’d walked to find the mail key I’d always been so careful not to drop.

Years later, when I was 19, and I’d escaped those fucking mountains, I was in university and doing very well. The only semester I didn’t hit the president’s list was the semester I had mono, and I still made dean’s.

I and a couple of others had recently been thrilled to get the B added to the LG group (lesbian and gay). Bisexual erasure is still prevalent, and it was worse then.

It was meeting night for the club, and one of my friends, one of the first openly gay men I knew while understanding what that meant, had a square of heavy white cloth. He explained it was for a project to remember those we’d lost to AIDS.

I took it home to my dorm room that night and feverishly embroidered a little grey goat wearing a green collar and a shiny gold jingle bell. I’ll never know why he named her Esmerelda.

The last time I visited those mountains, just before our move to Canada… I walked over with my eldest on my hip to look at my friend’s house. The door gaped open like a missing tooth in a smile, but no human scavengers had touched anything. (In those mountains, scavenging is a way of life. It’s a testimonial to their prejudice and discrimination that his home wasn’t pillaged.) The roof had fallen in at some point, always a danger in those mountains, from the weight of snow. The porch step I’d sat on to listen to his stories had fallen off and lay almost rotted through. I stood there looking at his house for probably longer than I remember. They’d closed the post office. The workhorses had been sent to make dog food when the man of the house died and his widow couldn’t care for them. Pound for pound selling them to the butcher was more practical.

My mother sold Ar Bazara just before she left my father. My beautiful mare had died at her new owners from pneumonia not long after I’d graduated high school.

Fall asters bloomed, making shockingly bright splotches of colour around his house. No one would even go close enough to do the neighborly thing and mow the tiny area of land that went with the house. Perception was everything to those people. It wouldn’t do to be perceived as less than a ‘good Christian’. So it spoke volumes that no one had shoveled the roof or mown the lawn. The only way people survive up there is by banding together when needed. My cousins may shoot each other (true fact) but they’ll band together if someone threatens from outside.

My grandmother was gone. Still with us in the flesh, but Alzheimer’s took her from us long before she actually died. She didn’t even remember I had a kid.

My father had cut the ancient maple tree I’d loved so much for firewood years before, sometime when I was in uni.

There weren’t any horses anymore. Esmeralda had gone. She never recovered. The sweet, gentle goat I’d agreed to love turned vicious and mean. I didn’t know how to help her and no one I dared ask could help. My father made me get rid of her when she butted him in the knee.

I kissed my little one’s head when he reached up curiously to touch a tear on my cheek. I doubt he’d ever seen me cry before that. I don’t cry easy. My therapist has me working on relearning how to cry.

That isn’t a problem right now. I can barely see to type. No matter how many years pass, I can’t forget the tearing, sticky sound of the cellophane as they wrapped my friend up. I can’t forget the things they said about him while wearing those stupid haz-mat suits. Which they hadn’t even been wearing correctly. I can’t forget and it’s so bloody hard to remember these things, much less talk or write about them.

Within my lifetime, we’ve seen amazing changes in queer rights. But I, and a lot of older queers, are watching the current political climate of the world and… we could so easily lose everything we’ve gained.

Trans people are always the canaries in the coal mine; always the ones sacrificed first. They will come for the rest of us.

If you’re queer, don’t ever fall into the trap of thinking it’s ancient history. I’m currently 47. This day happened 33 years ago. Don’t fall into the morass of thinking our rights can’t be stripped from us.

They can. And I fear, deeply, that they’ll strip our rights from us again. We could so easily fall down the slippery slope until all of us are disrespected as my friend was. He died alone. And I suppose I should be grateful my aunt noticed right away, that anyone noticed at all. He was a pariah. He’d come home to die after his partner did, only to face massive social exclusion by people he’d grown up with. My aunt only fed him for the cash. Even then, barter was still common. Hard cash wasn’t always easy to get.

I went to the cemetery to try to find his grave and plant some flowers on it. I found where it was supposed to be. Right on the very edge next to the pine forest. Just a slight depression marking what was likely a cheap pine coffin, if they even paid him that much respect. There wasn’t a crematorium anywhere close by. So they’d stuck him as far away from the other dead people as possible. As if the dead could catch it. We didn’t name it. It was the illness variety of the boogeyman. If you don’t name it, it can’t find you.

Starflower had grown to cover the area, so at least I know every spring he has a blanket of small, ethereal white flowers. We lost most of a generation of queers due to medical negligence and reprehensible cruelty from humans to other human beings.

But these stories shouldn’t die with us. Queer youth need to understand what we lived through so they don’t get too complacent. I’ve fought for queer rights since I was 14 years old.

My eldest can just be openly queer. Something I’ve never been able to be except for a few short years in university.

I don’t want to see us lose our rights again.

I don’t want another misunderstood, abused, hurting queer kid to have to watch as their only friend is wrapped in cellophane and denied the honour of a body bag. Denied the honour of a decent grave with a simple headstone.

We’re already losing queer rights. Please don’t be complacent.

Phew, so… I’m a sobbing mess. If my work of words touched you, please consider a tip or becoming a patron. We live in poverty. My husband is recovering from one of the likely three back surgeries he needs for his broken back. We have two autistic/ADHD kids and finding a job is impossible. I’ve been looking since January 15th, 2023. I have $50/$1220 I need for rent for January. We can’t get any government aid because I’m an immigrant.

Far too many queer creatives live in poverty. I’ll do a series of these memories as I can. They’re very emotionally difficult for me to write, but I feel they’re very important things.

http://ko-fi.com/A630KKM

https://www.paypal.me/KaelanRhy

#AIDS #aids epidemic #queer #being queer #queer history #AIDS Quilt

4 notes · View notes

motownfiction · 5 months

Text

bare

Daniel taps his pen against the top corner of his notebook. He can’t believe he’s found himself here, now, trying to write a damn poem.

It was bad enough when a clerical error placed him in Honors English back in ninth grade. Now, as a senior in high school, he still hasn’t given up. He’s in AP English Lit with the rest of the Pisces (except Sam, who should really be there in Daniel’s place, at least according to Daniel), and Mrs. Burczyk is making them write poetry. They all have to write free-verse poems about themselves – who they are, who they’ve been, who they think they’re going to be. That, in itself, sounds like a terrible song written by a guy in his garage. Daniel still can’t believe it. In a class about analyzing literature, they actually have to create it. Sounds like bullshit.

Sadie, of course, thought the assignment was brilliant. She’s been done with her poem since before school let out today. Things like that just come naturally to her. Being creative. Wiping her heart on her sleeve and letting it soak up all the blood there. Daniel knows there’s a metaphor in that, probably, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not about him. He thinks about himself and his feelings so much, it’s like they don’t even have words. They barely even have pictures.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Sadie says as Daniel crosses out yet another shitty line. “This shouldn’t be stressful. It’s a good opportunity to bare your soul.”

“Bare my soul,” Daniel says. “In front of Mrs. Burczyk for a grade. If I could pass without failing, I think I would.”

Sadie sighs. Daniel can’t be mad at her. She tries harder than anyone he knows, and there’s something to that, something wonderful. It’s why he loves her so much, even though he can’t always bring himself to say or write love, love, love anytime or anywhere. He taps his pen a little more and lets Sadie’s words echo in his head.

“Bare my soul,” he says again. “Hey, Sadie, when you say that … is it B-E-A-R or B-A-R-E?”

“The second one,” Sadie says. “Though I kind of like the idea of submitting myself for judgment before a hibernating animal. Sounds cute, in a terrifying way.”

Daniel laughs. Cute, in a terrifying way. He doesn’t know else to describe the last year as Sadie Doyle’s boyfriend, so he’ll just go with that from now on.

Really, he doesn’t know how to describe being anyone’s boyfriend at all. Since the end of his freshman year, he’s been Daniel DeLuca, the guy you meet up with if you’ve got a problem and you want to get over solving it. For about an hour, maybe once or twice a week if he was really lucky, he got to pretend like it meant something. Like they were seeking him out because he was Daniel, lover of Elvis and Gene Pitney, not because they heard he’d be a good time, an easy time. There was a rumor going around that the reason all the girls wanted Daniel to solve their problem was because he was so quiet, you could pretend he was anybody when you were in the middle of things. There was a rumor going around that Vicky St. John pretended he was Ralph Macchio, and Andie Sullivan pretended he was Charlie, as in Doyle, as in Daniel’s own best friend.

Bare his soul.

What’s stopping him? After baring everything else, what’s the matter with a soul?

He stops tapping his pen.

He’s got it figured out.

(part of @nosebleedclub december challenge -- day 13!)

#drabble #writeblr #ch: daniel deluca #ch: sadie doyle #ship: still the same #year: 1984

3 notes · View notes

legolasbadass · 1 year

Text

Office Hours, Part 19

Summary: Lorelei Browning has just secured a job as an assistant professor at Exeter College in Oxford. Naturally, she is eager to prove herself and meet every challenge sent her way, but what she does not expect is the tall, handsome stranger who will quickly become much more than a colleague…

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: E

Read on AO3

The heels of my boots clank against the ancient wooden floor as I rush through the hallway on my way back to my office after class. It’s always difficult to get back into the rhythm of university after a few weeks of rest, and only two seminars into the semester, I already long for the next break. With an internal sigh, I shake my head; I don’t want to sound so ungrateful—even if only to myself—for this opportunity which I dreamt of my whole life. But I am tired, and I know that is partly due to the morning’s stress, which, thankfully, left my body after the kisses Richard and I shared in the Fellow’s Garden earlier.

It’s raining now, large, unrelenting drops pelting against the windows like the incessant clicking of keyboards in a library during exam season. A pale, grey light fills my office as I step inside and drop my heavy books and notes onto my desk, but the atmosphere is quickly brightened by Natasha’s cheery voice as she greets me with a kind smile.

“Hey there!”

“Oh, hey, Natasha! How are you—and how was your break?”

“Not bad, not bad,” she says, nodding repeatedly. “Lots of eating and sleeping and procrastinating. You?”

“Not bad either. Oh, I finished my book—approved by reviewers and off to the printer!”

“Well, now you’re just making me feel bad about myself,” Natasha replies jokingly, causing me to chuckle. “That's amazing, Lorelei, congratulations! I’m really looking forward to reading it.”

“Thank you!” I say, immensely grateful to have the support of a colleague I look up to so much.

We sit side by side on the table in the middle of my office—which I cleared of most books and notes that had been scattered over it since December—and get to work on the preparations for our conference. We still need to select the final speakers and take care of some organizational details, but only an hour later, I can tell that neither of us is in the right frame of mind for this today.

“How can it be the first day of the term and we’re already exhausted and overwhelmed?” I muse as I rub my temples.

“Well, that’s a constant for me,” Natasha chuckles. “But don’t worry, it gets better. Your first few years are unbelievably hectic because you’re attending as many conferences as you can and writing as many papers and books as is humanly possible, but you can allow yourself to slow down with time. Trust me.”

“Thanks—I needed that,” I say with a sigh of relief.

“And when things get a little too crazy, I just remind myself that at least I’m not preparing for the All Souls entry exam.”

“Oh, God, yeah,” I reply, shuddering at the mere thought of that dreadful exam, which is widely accepted to be the most difficult in the world.

“Plus, it’s hard work, yes, but it’s not all bad….” Natasha says, leaning forward ever so slightly.

“True! I wouldn’t want to give up this job for anything!”

Natasha nods, still eyeing me intently, and I frown, wondering what’s on her mind. I don’t have to speculate over that very long, however, for she suddenly drops all the papers that were in her hands and says, “Okay, I’m sorry! I wasn’t going to say anything but I’m dying here! Are the rumours true?”

“Yes, it’s true! The vegetarian sausage roll is back at the cafe downstairs!” I answer playfully.

Natasha chuckles and shakes her head. “I meant you and Richard, silly!”

“Oh, that rumour,” I reply, then smile brightly, unable to stop myself. “Yes, it’s true.”

“Yes!” she exclaims, and her smile widens. “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you two!”

I smile along with her, but a flicker in her eyes confirms my suspicions. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

“I did….” she replies sheepishly, biting her lips. “I’ve known since Richard went to that conference in Bath—well, you know the one, you were there.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask, thinking back to that rainy December day when everything went wrong between Richard and me.

“Well, I knew you hadn’t told anyone, so I figured you didn’t want anyone to know, for whatever reason. It wasn’t my place to say anything.”

“Thank you for that,” I say with a smile.

Smiling in return, she nods. “So, how are things between you? If you don’t mind me asking,” she hastens to add, though I can tell how much she longs to know.

“Everything is good—perfect, actually,” I reply, and I don’t notice how much I’m smiling until she points it out to me.

“Your eyes light up when you talk about him,” she says, and my cheeks burn all the more. “I noticed that last semester, but I told myself I must be imagining things.”

A sudden knock on the door interrupts our conversation, and I turn around to find Richard standing in the doorway, a pile of worn paperbacks tucked in the crook of his arm as he offers me a lopsided grin.

“Ah, speaking of Prince Charming!” Natasha says teasingly, causing me to giggle and Richard to raise his eyebrows.

“I’m a bit old to be prince charming, I think,” Richard says, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. I frown, feeling saddened by his insecurity, but I don’t say anything in Natasha’s presence.

Natasha makes another joke to lighten the mood, then picks up her things and wishes us a good afternoon before leaving for her next class. Once we’re alone, Richard locks the door, then drops his books onto my desk and pulls me close, allowing me to slip my hands into his blazer and wrap my arms around his waist. The lines on the corners of his blue eyes appear soft in the pale grey light as I gaze up at him.

“Hey—you’re not too old to be my prince charming,” I say with a small chuckle despite how cheesy I know these words sound.

Richard smiles, but a frown still marks his forehead, and his eyes seem distant. I’m about to ask him what’s bothering him when he explains himself. “I overheard other professors talking and they said they were surprised to hear we were together because—well because they think I’m too old for you.”

Sighing in annoyance, I unconsciously tighten my hold on him. “Fuck them,” I say without hesitation. “It’s none of their business—and you’re not too old for me. I love you, Richard—I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. Your age won’t ever change that.”

“I know, and I’m sorry; I shouldn’t worry about that, but hearing them say it like that … I don’t know. You might not think I’m too old for you now, but what happens when I’m 70 and you’re only 51?”

“I’ll be really happy and love you even more because that would mean we’ve been together 22 years!” I reply earnestly with a smile, my heart fluttering at the thought of spending my whole life with him.

Richard’s eyes soften, and he pulls me even closer to him, his forehead coming to rest against my own. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I mean it!” I speak softly, raising one hand to caress his beard with my thumb. “And you know, I’d pick you over guys my age any day. Now, I haven’t been with that many guys, but in my experience, you are so much more kind, thoughtful, and tender than any of them … and you’re a lot sexier, too,” I add playfully, hoping to make him smile.

“Sexier?” he replies with a raise of his eyebrow as though doubting my word.

“Oh, like you don’t know!”

“Am I sexy enough to make you want to have sex in your office?”

I bury my face in his shoulder and shake my head as I laugh. “You’re impossible!” I say and step out of his embrace despite the heat crawling up my neck.

“And you’re a cruel woman,” he says, bringing a smile to my lips. “Do you want me to beg?”

“I like you begging,” I reply teasingly as I grab the books on my desk to place them back on the bookshelves, and I recognize the unmistakable heat in his eyes as he gazes at my curves and swallows hard. “But we’re supposed to be professional, remember?”

“We were unprofessional in here before and no one ever found out,” Richard points out in that deep, rumbling voice that turns my insides to jelly. I feel the warmth emanating from him as he moves to stand right behind me, the hem of his blazer brushing against the thin fabric of my blouse. Then he wraps one arm around my waist to pull me toward him, my bum flush against his upper thighs, while he lets his lips hover over my earlobe, causing me to shiver.

“What is it about my office that makes you so horny?” I question with a breathless giggle as I place the last book back on its shelf. I try to turn around to face him then, but he tightens his hold on me, and the control he has over me in this position makes me shiver.

“It has nothing to do with your office and everything to do with you and that sexy blouse you’re wearing,” he replies as he tosses my hair to the side to expose my bare neck, which I offer to his lips with a tilt of my head, but then he says, “But I guess you’re right—we don’t even have a condom, anyway.”

I can only bite my lips in response, and heat crawls up my cheeks. Richard raises his eyebrows. “In the first side pocket in my bag,” I confess shyly.

“I’m very grateful but … why on earth did you bring condoms to work?” he asks with a chuckle as he kisses my cheek before reaching out to my bag, which, thankfully, is within reach.

“Well … with our history, I thought it might come in handy.”

“My, my, Professor Browning—you really are a naughty girl,” Richard says playfully. “A very prepared naughty girl.”

I let my head fall back and playfully slap his arm as I giggle, but any retort I might have come up with turns into a soft whimper as he starts to nibble the sensitive spot below my ear, then caresses it with the tip of his tongue. Ever since we got back together, there’s been an insatiable hunger between us, and now, after only a few salacious words whispered in my ear and his hands digging into my hips, I’m already a puddle in his arms, and we both know that, despite all my best intentions, he will soon win this familiar game.

Ever so slowly, Richard lets one of his hands slide down my stomach before sneaking under my blouse to caress my bare skin, which erupts into goosebumps under his skilled hands. Then, while he continues to lavish kisses upon my neck, he carefully unbuttons my trousers, then slips his hand inside, his fingers brushing against the laced hem of my knickers.

“Richard … we shouldn’t …”

He leaves another wet kiss on the sensitive spot below my ear before pulling away, and I turn my head to the side just enough to meet his eyes. “We shouldn’t or you want me to stop?”

Damn him.

“We shouldn’t,” I repeat in a breathless voice that betrays the depth of my arousal.

“I bet the fact that we shouldn’t do this makes you want it even more, doesn’t it?” As though to prove his point, heat floods my core at his words, and a desperate sigh tumbles from my lips. He continues to tease me by toying with the hem of my knickers for a moment before slipping his hand under the fabric, and when his fingers glide along my slick folds, he smirks in triumph. “That’s my girl.”

A low moan escapes my lips before I can hold it back, and the next thing I know, Richard’s large hand covers my mouth, silencing me just as he circles my clit with his index finger, drawing another moan from me. Knowing there’s no point in denying him or my needs anymore, I roll my hips against his hand, desperate for more of the pleasure he sends swirling through me. All the titles and names etched into the books lined up on the shelves before me become blurred as Richard thrusts into me, the length of his hard body flush against mine, allowing me to feel his growing hardness pressing into my lower back, and I tightly grip one of the shelves to steady myself.

My whole body hums under his touch, and it takes everything in me not to let my moans echo against the stone walls when I manage to pull myself free from the hand on my mouth to beg for more. “Please, Richard—I want to see you and kiss you….”

He presses an affectionate kiss on my cheek before withdrawing his fingers, covered in my arousal, and spinning me around, finally allowing me to see him, and the depth of his arousal—visible in his hooded eyes, parted lips, and heaving chest—makes the muscles in my core clench with need. Yet, despite the passionate intensity of the moment, we share a tender smile when I look up to meet his gaze, and his lust-darkened eyes soften, reflecting the depth of the love fluttering in my heart. I recall the last time we were here, in this position, on that rainy October afternoon, when he confessed his feelings for me. Everything was so uncertain between us back then, and I didn’t even understand my own feelings for him. Now, however, love fills each kiss, each caress, and I know that for both of us, this is so much more than a stolen, lustful moment in my office.

Still gazing deeply into his eyes, I peel his blazer off his broad shoulders, letting it fall at our feet before allowing him to pull my trousers down my legs. Then he lifts me into his strong arms and pins me against the bookshelves, leaving me deliciously trapped in his embrace. Using his body, he demandingly spreads my thighs apart and urges me to wrap my legs around his waist, and my whimper mingles with his muffled groan when his shaft comes to rest against the most sensitive part of my body. The rest of our sounds of passion are silenced by our heated, open-mouthed kisses. Drowning in his taste and the rough feeling of his beard against my burning cheeks, I let my hands slide down his chest and slip under his shirt to caress the bare skin just above his trousers, causing him to groan in a way that sends my every thought astray.

Eager to feel his naked chest under my hands, I hasten to unbutton his shirt, and once all the buttons are undone, I wrap one arm around his neck and bury my fingers in his unruly curls while my other hand caresses his chest, lingering on his nipples and the patch of curls between his pectorals before slipping down toward his belt. I wince at the loud thud of his belt hitting the floor, but the stone walls are thick enough to muffle this kind of sound, and in any case, Richard’s groans in my ears make it impossible for me to even think about stopping now.

When Richard finally enters me, he praises me in a heated whisper as I bury my head in the crook of his neck to muffle my whimpers. He allows me to adjust to his size, one hand wrapped around my waist to hold me tight against him while his other hand caresses my bare thigh, the tenderness of the touch causing me to shiver and clench around him. Richard groans in my ear, and without any hesitation, he begins to move. Instantly, he finds the perfect angle, and as he thrusts into me, he moves his hips in a circular motion so that with every thrust, he brushes against that sensitive spot on my inner walls, and my head spins with the nearly overwhelming pleasure coursing through my veins. I follow his rhythm as much as I can in this position, abandoning myself to the burning passion flowing between us, responding to his physical declaration of love with equal care and eagerness. Richard devours my lips sloppily to silence the moans he knows I cannot hold back, but when my climax washes over me, I whimper his name in his ear, and that’s when he hardens further inside me and follows me over the edge with a muffled moan.

For a long while, our laboured breathing and the pitter-patter of the rain against the window are the only sounds in my office. Then, slowly, Richard lifts his head to meet my gaze, and we both giggle as we share a series of tender kisses.

“I quite like breaking rules with you, Professor Browning,” he says cheekily, his nose brushing against my own.

“The feeling is mutual, Professor Armitage,” I reply in an equally teasing tone. “But—”

“I know, we shouldn’t be doing this,” he finishes my thought, and I bite my lips. “And I promise; I will behave in the future.”

“You’ll behave?” I chuckle in disbelief. “I’d like to see that!”

In response, Richard playfully spanks my bum, and I have to bite my lips to stop myself from moaning. “Careful, or I’ll have to punish you.”

The low rumble of his voice makes me clench around him, and he groans against my lips. “Is that a promise?” I say softly and lick my lips, knowing he cannot resist that look.

After a few more kisses, Richard pulls out and carefully sets me back on my feet. My legs shake, and I have to steady myself by leaning against my desk, causing Richard to smirk. We help each other get dressed, and once I’m tying my boots back on, I look up at Richard as he fixes the collar of his blazer. Apart from his unruly hair and the soft, satiated smile hiding under his beard, no evidence of our stolen moment can be seen in his appearance—unlike me, with my wrinkled blouse and reddened cheeks. But I don’t let my haggard appearance distract me; for a few days now, I’ve been considering something, and now seems like the perfect moment to bring it up to Richard.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he leans against my desk and reaches out to hold my hand. “You seem distracted.”

“I think I want to go on the pill.”

“Oh,” Richard says in surprise. “If that’s what you want, why not?”

“It would make things easier,” I point out, and he chuckles.

“Well, yes, it definitely would, but there’s other options we can consider. I know the pill has a lot of nasty side effects, and I certainly don’t want you to suffer just to make our sex life more convenient.”

His words stir a wave of affection in my heart, and not knowing how to express how much his consideration means to me, I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him. He wraps both arms around my waist, squeezing me tight as he presses a soft kiss atop my head.

“Thank you,” I manage to say after a short while. “But I don’t mind going on the pill. I really don’t. I was on it years ago and it was fine.”

“Oh, I assumed you weren’t on the pill because you didn’t want to or because it wasn’t the right solution for you,” he says while rubbing my back.

“No, I wasn’t on the pill anymore because I was single for so long my virginity was growing back,” I joke, and the low rumbling of Richard’s laughter brings a smile to my lips.

“You don’t have to make a decision now,” he goes on after a while, “but if going on the pill is what you really want, then I will support your decision. Not that it’s any of my business what you do with your own body, though, obviously,” he adds, and I smile. I know he doesn’t say that because he knows it’s the right thing to say but because he genuinely believes that, and I love him even more for it. “You don’t have another class, do you?”

“No, I’m done for the day.”

“So how about I drive you home so you can change and then we can go out for a bite?”

“That sounds perfect,” I reply, and we share another tender kiss before I grab my coat and bag, and we step out of my office, though not without making sure that the hallway is clear first. A few minutes later, we walk across the misty courtyard, huddled under my umbrella, as a few rays of sun pierce through the clouds and cast their golden rays over the sandstone walls of the college.

Taglist: @lathalea @linasofia @mcchiberry @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome @laurfilijames @swoopswishsward @quiall321 @dianakc

Let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from my tag list or tagged in future chapters! 💙

#richard armitage #richard armitage fanfic #richard armitage x oc #richard armitage x reader #richard armitage x you #professor au #office hours

18 notes · View notes

herofics · 1 year

Note

Hello! Can I request a comfort scenario for kirishima (as a student) with a s/o that has been taking antidepressants for the first time in her life and is struggling with dealing with the side effects (feeling anxious/jittery, urge to SH, brain fog, drowsiness, stuff like that). Sometimes things feels worse than they did before going on meds, and s/o is scared the meds will turn her into a whole different person.

Only if you're comfortable with that ofc! Thank you!

I’ve been on antidepressants for so long, I don’t even remember how I felt when I started them. My psychiatrist changed my antidepressants in December of 2021, but since I’ve never had any bad side effects from them, I didn’t really have any of this. I tried to write this how you described and I’m sorry this took so long to do

You were spacing out for like the third time in class that day. Kirishima had of course been glancing at you occasionally, and he’d noticed you didn’t really look like you were paying attention.

“Hey (Name)” he whispered and poked your shoulder.

“Hmmm?” you snapped out of it and looked at him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine” you shrugged.

“Okay…” Kirishima said, but you could hear the doubt in his voice.

He knew you weren’t as okay as you were trying to assure him, he was pretty sure because it was of that new medication you started taking, but he couldn’t be sure.

After the school day was over and you had returned to the dorms, you sort of just shut yourself in your room. Kirishima had noticed you had been doing that quite a lot lately. You hadn’t really been shutting him out, but you weren’t really interacting much with anyone else, and you seemed to be having a bit of a hard time in general.

Kirishima went to change out of his school uniform and into some more comfortable clothes, before going to knock on your door. He was getting worried about your state of mind as of late, you seemed to be spacing out quite a lot and you just seemed like you were in a fog.

He knocked and waited for you to let him in.

“Who is it?” came your voice from inside the room.

“It’s me” Kirishima answered.

You came to open the door and let him in. You sat on your bed and Kirishima sat on a chair opposite of you.

“How you feeling?”

“I’m okay… I guess” you sighed.

“Are you sure these meds are good for you? You’ve been pretty out of it lately, and what we talked about last night…” he trailed off.

“You mean the self-harm urges and the constant drowsiness and anxiety? Yeah, I don’t really enjoy those” you scoffed.

“I know you don’t, but I’m sure it’s not gonna be like that all the time” he smiled, trying to cheer you up.

“But what if it is? What if taking these meds is going to keep me in this state? I don’t even feel like myself right now, I feel like a different person and I don’t like it” you grumbled.

“It’s just the meds babe. You’re the same person you’ve always been, you might feel different, but you’re the same person that beat me at mario cart like a million times in a row, the person who’s kind and warm to everyone, because they don’t want anyone to feel the way they do. You’re the person I love” he said and grabbed your hand.

“Am I though? What if this doesn’t pass? What if I’m gonna be in a fog for as long as I take these meds. I know these pills aren’t a miracle cure, but I also know something like this can really help me if it just didn’t have these shitty side effects” you grabbed the bottle of pills and rattled it, before throwing it at your pillow.

“Hey, I know you’re frustrated, but it’s gonna be fine, I’m sure of that” he squeezed your hand.

You sighed, but you had to admit, you liked his optimism. You were having a hard time with seeing the bright side of pretty much anything right now, but it helped that he was able to.

“Thank you, Eiji” you said and raised his hand to your lips, kissing his knuckles.

“No problem” he smiled widely.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #kirishima eijirou #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #comfort #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

19 notes · View notes

snezfics-n-shit · 2 years

Text

Sicktember Day 8: Intense Coddling

Fandom: Ace Attorney Characters: Raymond Shields, Gregory Edgeworth

Notes: Raymond has always been aware of Gregory’s paternal instincts since the day he started working at Edgeworth Law Offices. For the most part, it’s not so bad, but when Gregory stops by after learning Ray has called in sick, it might just be the first time he needs some room to breathe. (Also this was actually really hard to find balance because I thought it was a cute concept but I don't think it would be in character for really any character to get into the "Intense" part, so I didn't have Gregory go too overboard, just a little too wrapped up in his paternal instincts. Just enough for a 'hey man you can relax a lil bit' ya know?)

Raymond wasn’t sure how he survived his only class for the day. The congestion in his head made it nearly impossible to absorb whatever his professor was saying; he didn’t even feel up to eating the notes he had taken (after he returned home, of course, he wasn’t going to have anyone staring at him with his strange habits and destroy what little of a social life on campus he had) which meant he definitely was in no shape to stop by Mr. Edgeworth’s office. Not even Coldkiller X was doing a good enough job, after all the good he had to say about it during the investigation for Mr. Master’s case. How could he face Mr. Edgeworth knowing the good words he put in were all proven false?

And so, he bit the bullet and called in sick, ready to spend the rest of the day watching TV on the couch. Since Piece Of Cake wasn’t airing anything new, at least until Mr. Master would surely be proven Not Guilty in the trial in December, Raymond wondered if it was worth a shot trying out that Signal Samurai show Mr. Edgeworth asked him about a few weeks ago. He seemed pretty excited about it and how much his son liked it; it must be pretty good if the kid he remembered only watching whatever adults were watching liked it so much.

Raymond channel surfed for a good five minutes without a single appearance of anything resembling a signal nor samurai. He groaned and just gave up on this search, opting to just fall asleep instead of pushing himself any further, that is, until there was a knock on the door that forced him to get up and answer.

“Mr. Edgeworth?” Raymond managed to croak out something close to a greeting. He blinked, unsure if he was dreaming. “What are you doing here?”

“You called in sick for the first time in, well, as long as you’ve been my assistant.” Gregory explained. A look of concern made itself at home on his face. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’ve been better.” Raymond shrugged.

“Hmm…” Purely instinctively, Gregory felt Raymond’s forehead. “You're pretty warm, Raymond. Why don't you get yourself into bed and I'll make you some tea."

Raymond was rather surprised that Mr. Edgeworth was so quick to make such a generous offer, but it didn’t strike him as uncharacteristic of Gregory. After all, he always made sure Raymond was well-fed whenever he showed up at the Edgeworth residence (usually uninvited, but Mr. Edgeworth never seemed too bothered by that). Raymond quietly made his way to his bed, and while there was no TV or anything particularly entertaining for his easily-bored college student brain in his room, he had no complaints as long as Mr. Edgeworth was around.

It wasn’t long before Gregory stopped by Raymond’s room, too early for the tea to be even close to ready.

“Just checking in!” Gregory announced with a smile. “Have you eaten anything?”

“No, not yet. I haven’t really been hungry.”

“Hmm,” Gregory frowned, “even if you don’t have an appetite, you still need to keep your strength up.”

Raymond couldn’t even object before Gregory left. Always on top of things, wasn’t he? Raymond sighed and tried his hardest to prepare himself for whatever Gregory intended to cook for him, even if he wasn’t hungry, it still wouldn’t be very polite to reject his mentor’s cooking.

He closed his eyes for what felt like a half hour, but was really less than ten minutes. Mr. Edgeworth was setting a steaming cup of tea carefully on a coaster that wasn’t on the bedside table this morning.

“Here. There’s honey in it, for your throat, and I let it cool so it won’t burn your tongue.” Gregory smiled, proud of his efforts. “The soup is cooling right now, too. It’s a recipe an old friend of mine taught me.”

"Thanks, Mr. Edgeworth." Raymond sat upright and took a sip of the tea; it didn't burn his tongue at all, just as Gregory said. “Are you sure you want to hang around here? I’d hate to hold you back from anything important.”

“What do you mean? The office is dead quiet, and Miles is still at school for another couple of hours.”

“Huh,” Raymond thought the office was a lot more exciting before his shifts there, always with something he felt like he was missing out on. Slow day, he guessed.

“Can I get you anything else? That medicine you like so much, maybe?”

“I already took some.” Raymond took another sip, pondering what would make this tea help him better than the pills he took earlier. Maybe a mentor’s tea was like a grandma’s cookies? He then wondered if Mr. Edgeworth knew how to bake cookies, and soon found himself spaced out as he continued drinking the tea.

He might have never realized when the mug became empty if it wasn’t for Gregory’s proud announcement that the soup was ready. Where did he get that tray from?

“Here you go. I got you a smaller serving to start with, but there’s plenty more left.” Gregory placed the tray carefully over Raymond’s lap.

“Wow, thanks!”

The soup looked amazing, and with just one spoonful, Raymond knew it tasted just as good as it looked. He couldn’t help but be quick to eat more.

“Woah, woah! Careful there. You’ll make yourself sick.” Gregory warned.

“I mean, I already am, aren’t I?”

“Well, you’ll feel worse if you make your stomach hurt– oh, hold on.” Gregory had that look of instinct again and wiped Raymond’s cheek with a napkin, thinking nothing of it while Raymond had a growing expression of embarrassment.

“Mr. Edgeworth, um, I really appreciate you doing this for me, but…” Raymond hesitated, not wanting to hurt any feelings. “Maybe you could tone down, you know, um, that?”

“‘That…?’” It took Gregory a while to process what Raymond meant before he looked equally as embarrassed. After nearly a decade of being a father, and a single one at that, paternal instincts had embedded in his personality without him even realizing it. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. You’re right. I came in uninvited and I started cooking… I’ll be sure to buy back the ingredients and pay you back for them as well.”

“No, no, it’s not that, I promised! I come over to your house all the time and raid your fridge without asking…” Raymond chuckled sheepishly, as did Gregory. “I just mean, you know, the napkin thing. I’m an adult in college, I promise I can clean my face myself.”

“Oh, of course, that too.” Gregory decided against pointing out all the times he’s spotted Raymond with frosting on his face when he’d raid the fridge for dessert. “I’ll give you some space to rest, okay? I won’t interrupt or anything, I promise.”

Gregory got up to leave, but Raymond called out to stop him.

“Hey! Wait, Mr. Edgeworth?”

“Yes?”

“If you make more tea, I’m totally fine with you waking me up, okay?”

“Just get some rest for now.”

#snez attorney #sicktember 2022 #my writing

6 notes · View notes

down-in-dixie · 9 months

Text

Fill in the blanks

Basics

What’s your name: Lauren. Do you have a nickname: No. Do you have a middle name: Nicole. Do you like your name: I do. Do people often mispronounce your name: It really isn’t that hard to pronounce. Do you like the meaning of your name: It's okay. When is your birthday: December 10th. How old are you: I'm in my 30s. Do you like your age: There's nothing wrong with it. What’s your zodiac sign: Sagittarius.

Appearance

What’s your hair colour: Dark brown with just a hint of red that's barely noticeable. Is your current hair colour your natural hair colour: It is. Do you dye your hair: No. I feel like it would be too much of a hassle. When was the last time you had a haircut: I had it trimmed a few months ago. What length is your hair right now: It hangs a little ways past my shoulders. Do you have straight, wavy or curly hair: Slightly wavy. Do you have frizzy hair: It does get a bit frizzy when I’m out in the humidity. Do you use a curling iron: No. Do you use a hair straightener: Only on my bangs. Do you braid your hair: I do when it’s long enough. What’s your eye colour: Bluish-gray with green. Do your eyes change colour: It seems like they do but I can't say for sure. Do you wear contacts: No. I can’t stand putting stuff in my eyes. If so, do you use colour contacts or regular contacts: Do you wear glasses: No, but I need to buy a pair. My eyesight isn't as good as it used to be. Do you have naturally long eyelashes: They’re not that long. Do you wear braces: I’ve never had them. Do you have dimples: Nope. Do you have moles: One, right in the middle of my chest of all places. Do you have outstanding cheekbones: I don’t know. No one has ever said anything about them before. Do you have freckles: No. Do you have piercings: Two holes in each ear. I'm thinking about getting a third. Do you have tattoos: None as of right now. Do you wear make up: Yes, but it's always the bare minimum amount. Do you paint your nails: Sometimes, and the color is usually either black or a dark burgundy color. Do you wear jewelry: All the time. Are you happy with your height: I am.

Personality

Would you consider yourself outgoing or shy: I'm definitely NOT outgoing. Are you sarcastic: Me? Sarcastic? Never… What’s your guilty pleasure: Animation. Are you religious: I could care less about religion. Do you get along with people easily: I think so. Do you cry easily: Not really.

School

Do you go to middle school: I’m old enough to be a teacher at a middle school. Do you go to high school: See above. Do you go to a private school: I went to public school. Have you graduated from school: I graduated YEARS ago. What grade are you in: I JUST told you that I’ve already graduated… Have you skipped a grade: I WISH I had skipped a grade, but I wasn’t smart enough for that. Have you been held back a grade: Thankfully, I was never held back. Have you ever failed a class: I failed Algebra 2 my Junior year by one point (math was my weakness). And I wasn't happy about it. Have you been sent to the principals office: I was sent there once but it wasn’t because of bad behavior. Have you skipped school: I skipped quite a few times. Have you cheated on a test: I did once, got caught and never did it again.

Family

Do you get along with your parents: Most of the time. Do you tell your parents everything: They don't need to know everything. Do you have strict parents: Thankfully, they were never strict. Do you have siblings: One younger brother. Are you the oldest: Well, if I only have one sibling who is younger than me, then that would make me the oldest now wouldn’t it? Are you in the middle: See above. Are you the youngest: See above the above question. Are all of your grandparents still alive: They're all dead.

Relationships

What’s your relationship status: Happily single. Have you ever been in love: Once upon a time. Do you believe in love at first sight: No. I think you have to get to know a person before you can truly be in love with them. Lust on the other hand… Have you ever been in a relationship: Yes. Have you ever had a secret admirer: Yes, although it didn't remain a secret for very long. Have you ever been asked out on a date: Yes. Have you ever been kissed: Yes. Have you ever been cheated on: Not that I know of. Have you ever been proposed to: Yes, but it was done in a jokingly manner. Do you want to get married: I’m enjoying the single life too much right now to even consider it. Do you want kids: Hard pass. I prefer to keep what little patience and sanity I have left.

Country

Where were you born: The United States. Where do you live right now: The United States. Have you ever been out of the country: No, but I would LOVE to get the hell out of here. Do you prefer country or city: The country where it’s nice and quiet. Do you like sightseeing: Yes. Is one or more of your parents from another country: They’re both American. What places would you like to visit: I wouldn't mind traveling all over the world. Are you fluent in more than one language: I’m only fluent in English. What languages can you speak: Not fluently, but I’ve picked up a few words and phrases in French, Spanish, Korean, Japanese, and Russian.

Health

Do you have any allergies: I'm allergic to pollen and I think I'm starting to develop an allergy to grass as well. Are you lactose intolerant: No. Have you had surgery: Never. Have you had stitches: No. Have you broken a bone: No, just a few sprains. Do you exercise a lot: No, but I need to start doing it again.

Experiences

Have you ever had a near death experience: Yes. Have you ever been on a plane: No. Have you ever pulled an all nighter: I've pulled so many all nighters over the years that I've lost track of the amount. And I still do it. Have you ever been to school/work after a sleepless night: Unfortunately. Have you ever been in a physical fight: Yes, but it was always with my brother. Have you ever been to a wedding: Several, and I’ve also been IN one. Have you ever been to a funeral: Sadly enough, I’ve been to more funerals than weddings. Have you ever lived in a different country: No, but I would like to. Have you ever been drunk: I don’t drink enough to get drunk. Have you ever been trick or treating: Of course, I was actually young once. Have you ever been in a school play: Yes. Have you ever been to a camp: I went a few times when I was younger. Have you ever driven a car: Yes, and I don't like it.

Skills

How many languages are you fluent in: Haven’t I already answered this question? Have you ever read a book in another language: I’m only fluent in English, remember? Can you roll your tongue: Yes. Can you braid hair: Yes, but I can only do a regular braid. I never learned how to do a French braid. Can you do a handstand: I used to be able to do one when I was younger. I don’t know about now.

Habits

Do you crack your knuckles: Yes, but I should probably stop doing it. Do you bite your nails: I haven’t done that in years. Do you bite your lips: Sometimes.

Favourites

What’s your favourite movie: Don't What’s your favourite TV show: Make What’s your favourite book: Me What’s your favourite song: Choose. I hate getting these types of questions… What’s your favourite colour: Black, purple, blue, turqoise and red. What’s your favourite animal: Cats(big and domestic), dogs / wolves and horses. What’s your favourite season: Fall.

This or That

Summer or winter: WINTER. I hate Summer. It's too hot and humid around here. Day or night: Night. Cats or dogs: I’m more of a cat person, but I do like dogs as well. Rain or shine: Both, but I only like the rain when I don't have to go out in it. Coffee or tea: Tea, although I will drink a mocha frappuccino every once in awhile. Reading or writing: Both, although I read more than I write. Humorous or serious: Depends on the mood / situation. Brown or blue eyes: Both. Single or group dates: Depends on the person / people. Texts or calls: Text. Driving or walking: Walking, but depends on the distance.

Last

Last phone call: My boss. Last text: Mom. Last song you listened to: Black Velvet by Alannah Miles. Last thing you ate: Caramel Creams candy. Last thing you drank: Sunkist. Last purchase: Some new watch bands. Last time you cleaned your room: Yesterday. Last time you’ve been on a date: It's been almost twenty years. I've basically given up on dating.

0 notes

waitingformyfavoritesongs · 1 year

Text

25 February 2023 Saturday 12:07 pmpdt

I guess incubus is right. That I’m terrible. I m very tired 💤 from the pain & difficulty breathing. I will be glad if I can have a quick end to my life. I think 💭 about 12:09 pmpdt

2:17 pmpdt incubus hit me with a lot of acid covering my whole throat it was painful 😖 created a pilled feeling probably that I feel at the back of my mouth 👄. Severe pain acid burn 🔥 2:20 pmpdt. Why is it that I’m tested? But Q isn’t is she? If all the stuff I wrote here is actually evidence that she was up 🆙 to something to intentionally hurt me w/o evidence that I actually did something to deserve this, if she & incubus were lying 🤥 & putting on an act, if she didn’t actually have endometriosis & they were both pretending w/ a little sacrifice now & then to convince me otherwise Bcz why does incubus tattoo stuff ? To deceive me? He & his family try to deceive me? Make gios eye 👁 brown last minute? At least I tried to be Q’s friend. I tried to like Q. Then I stopped hanging out with Q Bcz I could not feel what I needed to feel to see her again. Why test me? W/ Q? You can read minds & know I was already mad & annoyed w/ Q. Why push it? Leave me alone! 2:28 pmpdt you like to aggravate me. & then claim to test me? Sure it was bad but you have weird things & potions 🧪 & make super sized chicken 🍗 legs 🦵 that they I heard can’t even walk normally? We’re you experimenting with my head intentionally to make me mess up 🆙 your test? 2:30 🕝 pmpdt 2:31 pmpdt I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ what I am really like. Sometimes I hear 👂 people say homosexuality is from the devil 👿. Is that Bcz incubus puts love 💕 potion 🧪 to fall in love with man 👨 into mans brains 🧠? Manipulating me & every body? 2:33 pmpdt diarrhea 😖😭😤🥵😖😭

3:24 pmpdt incubus is still burning 🔥 my throat w/acid. I don’t think I can win an argument against the incubus. He had been hurting me a lot probably all my life & making me ram 🐏 my head into hard objects & making other people punch 🤛 me. He gave me a lot of strong head pain in the end of 2016 when I yelled at the tv 📺 calling him a thief for taking the idea 💡 of the voice away from me & talking to me through the tv 📺 & probably intimidating me when he told me b4 waking up as if he was in my room talking into my ear 👂 that he’s going to eat my eyeballs 👀, sometime btwn march 2011-November 2014. & coming to blossom hill to walk by me with a disgusted look 👀 on his face, as if he thought 💭 I was disgusting. 3:31 pmpdt I’ve had a sh*tty life, didn’t feel great or normal after hitting my head a lot, sometimes I felt I had no control over what I did. & didn’t understand why I felt this or that way. I was usually rejected 🙅‍♀️ by people at first impression or ignored. I lost friends easy. I had some nice friends for a short time. 3:35 pmpdt I always messed up 🆙. 3:35 pmpdt maybe 🤔 I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ I don’t think 💭 I can win an argument with the incubus. I feel phony & bad. He’s hurting me a lot. I would have never noticed him & Q flirting through pictures if he didn’t bother me. 3:37 pmpdt I accused incubus of stealing Bcz that was too similar to what I did in class, & I thought 💭 those were my ideas 💡 & he stole stereo heart ❤️ lyrics from me that I sang in the shower 🚿 out loud in my apartment & I thought 💭 he stole the way I sang in the shower 🚿 & my whistle & put it in moves like jagger (head pain 3:40 pmpdt) incubus was messing with my feelings & my mind for years b4 I did what I did to Q. Maybe I should not have done ✅ that & posted those links & ranted about the best friend thing, but he was I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ sorta asking for trouble 👿. 3:42 he already I think if I’m not mistaken about the chronology incubus was already hurting my body the end of 2016 I think I felt them pull something from inside me that I thought 💭 maybe 🤔 was an abortion? Was that December 2016? Or early 2017? Maybe I m wrong completely . I wish I wrote it down. 3:45 pmpdt

3:47 3:48 pmpdt neighbor terry suddenly aged quickly b4 we moved out. I remember once when I sang in the shower 🚿 one of the neighbors applauded my efforts. 3:49 pmpdt

3:54 3:55 pmpdt I never had an abortion, but Bcz I remembered the weighted down feelings in my sleep 💤 maybe someone was on top of me? Not sure 🤔 & I felt someone touched the inside of my vag & quickly touch my lips 👄 probably 2015? There was also a time I gained weight & could not zip up my pants 👖 probably the same year? & then I lost the weight. I remember when woke up 🆙 I saw 👀 tiny bruises on the inside of elbow left arm. I had wondered if I was injected with some thing.. the hangers swung one day in my closet after I woke up 🆙 & it scared 😱 me & I jumped up 🆙 & ran out of the bedroom. I think 🤔 that was when I started (acid pain throat 4.01 pmpdt ) incubus wants me to acknowledge that I feel like I am a horrible selfish greedy person 4:02 pmpdt) paying more attention to the cutout in the floor of wcloset. 4:03 pmpdt maybe I am a bad person & unworthy. I felt unworthy all my life! Why name me something that might mean worthy in Greek ? (Dipthong transliterated & read backwards 4:04 pmpdt) & have me learn this b4 making my body absurd? 4:05 pmpdt a lot of screwing w/ my head. That one time, it felt like they pulled a rope of flesh downwards inside of me - which I had a feeling might have been an abortion Bcz I think 🤔 I might have been recalling those 2015 memories (right ankle pain 4:08 pmpdt) I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ what it was, it didn’t feel good. 4:08 pmpdt

4:10 pmpdt Greek word worthy is a guess (acid burning 🔥 pain 4:10 pmpdt) from looking up 🆙 a similar looking word on wordhippo. I should probably look 👀 it up again & try to find a different website to translate Greek. 4:12 pmpdt

5:08 pmpdt I want to be a hermit. I can no longer trust people. I want nothing to do with the world 🌎. 5:10 pmpdt I don’t feel like a good person at all. I don’t like my feelings that I have. I have been hurt a lot. 5:11 pmpdt

5:12 pmpdt if the flesh rope pulled feelings was an abortion, how did I get pregnant 🤰? Why would it feel that way? I guess I need to look 👀 up 🆙 what an abortion feels like. If so, who was the father? Incubus or assistant gigolo? They like sticking their 🍆into the closest vags Bcz they have power to spoil themselves? 5:15 pmpdt sample here sample there sample every where. 5:16 pmpdt

6:24 pmpdt incubus burned my throat & probably vag - felt pain & hips. I remember the “eat your eyeballs” line the voice sounded ... sinister? Creepy & intimidating & scary & horrorifying. I remember I think Q mentioned she liked scary movies? But I don’t remember if I saw 👀 one w/ her. 6:28 pmpdt

6:29 I probably did not feel safe. When my cousin was 9 & tried to sleep 🛌 in the bottom bunk she woke up probably 3 times? Started screaming Bcz of the shadow of my long coat 🧥 hanging in on the closet door 🚪 I thought 💭 that w/her imagination 💭 was scaring her. Maybe 🤔 she saw 🪚 the incubus? She slept with my mom after that. 6:32 6:33 pmpdt. Head brain 🧠 pain

7:37 pmpdt I guess I’m being faked out. The world 🌎 doesn’t need a martyr. Those who are perfectly intact are perfect. & I’m not. I’ve been too mean & cruel & (autocorrect said: rape death cousin acid brain is 7:39 pmpdt) & I guess I’m too much of a backstabber... I will have to review how I have been. 7:40 pmpdt it seems a theme is backhandedness. 7:40 pmpdt

8:55 pmpdt I don’t like incubus he’s violent & he glorified violence in harder to breathe 🧘🏻‍♀️ 8:56 pmpdt he’s misleading when he says a girl 👧 who cries in the face of a monster 👹 who lives in her dream 😴 (right hip stab bone 🦴 pain 8:58 pmpdt) that’s himself he’s talking about Bcz incubus gives people nightmares. 8:58 pmpdt (acid eating stomach wall pain left hip pain 8:59 pmpdt). Incubus appear at night to rape women. The night has to be dark so literally incubus is there in the darkest nights map 🗺 song 🎵 incubus are animals who are you’re enemies 9:01 pmpdt

Maybe I’m the mollified evil 🦹‍♀️ will Ferrell is talking about in that computer 👩🏻‍💻 animated movie 🎥. I don’t feel loved 🥰 I feel lied 🤥 to by incubus. Not something any god should lie about to a woman 👩🏼 but he justifies it. A lot like the rape his parents probably justified of Jaycee dugard & then he continued to justify it for them. 9:04 pmpdt I don’t want to ever see Q or incubus again. I think 🤔 they’re both disgusting for what they did to Jaycee dugard. 9:06 pmpdt I don’t want to be associated with incubus. He disgusts & disappointed me every day. 9:06 pmpdt

Q can have every man who. Is like (left 👁 eyeball pain 9:07 pmpdt) like the incubus demon lord. I don’t want him. He’s filthy. Yucky. 9:08 pmpdt

9:38 pmpdt I don’t think 🤔 Q would have defended me? I m hesitant to believe that Bcz of how things have been going for me the last 5 years. Imagine, Q loving 🥰 the incubus & probably attacking me secretly? How many big fish 🐠 bad guys she let go do whatever they wanted Bcz she listened to incubus & loved 🥰 incubus. 9:41 pmpdt same as the police 👮‍♂️ investigating garrido’s house 🏠 & not searching (≈9:41/42 pmpdt pain stab bone 🦴 pain above butt bone 🦴 area) the sheds in the backyard. 9:42/43/44 pmpdt

9:48 pmpdt call me crazy but I think 🤔 if you are a kind person then you do kind things. If you are a wife beater then you do wife beater things: cut off her ability to breathe 🧘🏻‍♀️ & walk/cut off her legs 🦵- I have the tendency of getting physical if I do you will need a miracle, unnecessarily critical, not fit to tread the ground I’m walking 🚶🏿‍♀️ on = wife beater words. Duh 🙄 9:52 pmpdt

10:22 pmpdt I guess I’m the mollified evil 🦹‍♀️ Bcz I didn’t do more to oppose my mom’s decision to kick 🦵 my aunt & cousin out. I don’t really understand my mom sometimes though, how she would easily fold after she said we had to move in together, & I think I told her I should have not yelled at my aunt that I shouldn’t have been so mad about it? Explosive about it? But that didn’t help I guess Bcz my aunt was convinced I was a bad person Bcz god said so. She said god is angry at me. She told me that b4 my mom kicked them out. So, I know god the incubus says stuff to people about me. & he probably told Q, & she probably wanted to see him again after going to maroon 5 concert 🎵 in 2007. I believe I remember I was invited but I said it’s too expensive, so everyone went without me. 10:28 pmpdt

10:29 pmpdt incubus is now correcting me it was Dave matthews band. Whatever. I thought it was maroon 5 distinctly.... hmmmm well I guess I will have to wait & see if I’m wrong 😑. But she did give a thumbs up 👍 on his back tattoo back at the end of 2017. So there’s a chance that it was maroon 5... 10:31 pmpdt

10:32 pmpdt I don’t believe I will have a happy ending if I lose a body part. Incubus broke into my jaw bone 🦴 it was the most horrifying pain. If I have to get my jaw bone replaced I will hate him forever ♾ & ever. 10:35 pmpdt looks like he f*cked Q w/ his 🍆. 10:35 pmpdt mile high club. Pilot 👨‍✈️ costumes. 10:36 pmpdt

10:36 pmpdt incubus is a big ugly disgusting jerk for what he did to me & little girls like jaycee dugard. He is a monster 👹. 10:36 pmpdt

10:39 pmpdt incubus is gross & Q is gross by association. 10:40 pmpdt

10:43 pmpdt they probably went to both concerts Bcz they got money 💰 Bcz they hoooooooes. 10:44 pmpdt

11:46 pmpdt incubus used strong acid too close to an organ it’s making me feel crazy. His use of acid inside of me is wicked. 11:48 pmpdt I don’t recall ever burning 🔥 anyone with acid in my life. 11:49 pmpdt

11:51 pmpdt incubus is a wicked witch 🧙

0 notes

happyhappybios · 1 year

Text

Nuriko Lernae

This page contains mention of death and blood.

Danger scale: Docile

Key notes: Teacher, Royalty, Sweetheart, Lonely, Big Sister

📚Nuriko's mood📚

Name: Nuriko Lernae

Age: 11.54 sweeps (25 y.o.)

Height: 5'11 (180 cm)

Blood colour: Violet

Wiggling day: 5 December

Symbol: Hydra

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Orientation: Bisexual

Occupation: Teacher - Boarding High School of Her Imperious Condescension (HIC)

Place of residence: Big castle under a water - near the the cliff - a tip of the castle could be see in the water

Lusus: MotherHydra (Giant size)

Hobby: Reading geology books and collecting crystals, rocks and jewelry

Hemoloyalty: As a teacher of boarding high school, Nuriko doesn’t allow herself to separate her students by castes

Fetch modus: Multi-thematic. Each items can be put in the category and can be freely pull out

Strife specibus/Weapon: Sticks/Stick Kind

Troll Tag: commonsensicalAward [CA]

Typing quirk: replaces о with О and put \ / on on both sides as fins. Smart words put between《》

Typing quirk example:

[CA]: \I’m afraid but i dOn’t knOw the term Of this wOrd./

God Tier: Sylph of Mind

Ancestor: The Great Governess

Dancestor: Hydrae Lernae

Personality:

Nuriko is a nice troll with a goal to teach younger trolls something new everyday. She is a kind, intelligent and understanding troll, but strict, demanding and stubborn at the same time. Nuriko always loved teaching others, explaining in detail subjects that are hard to understand, showing something new everyday and so on. She loves sharing her wisdom, experiences and discoveries to other trolls, showing there is more to the world than just one place. Nuriko just loves to share things, even if sometimes it can be dangerous.

Nuriko is a pretty busy troll with her job as a teacher in school. She barely has any free time to enjoy, always preparing lessons for her students, but she doesn’t regret it as it helps her to be organized.

Nuriko could be seen as a nice and kind troll at the first sight, and she is, but whenever she is in a teacher mode, she becomes strict and demanding. She brooks no distractions, loud chatting and bad behavior in her class, giving warnings to anyone who broke the rules.

Nuriko rarely can accept the fact she is wrong in some subjects. It will take her so long to correct herself or accept it that sometimes she can be a bit salty towards anyone she disagrees with.

Likes:

Reading

Books

Teaching kids

Sea

Jewellery

Swimming

Rocks

Doritos

Dislikes:

Uncivilized trolls

Dirt

Lies

Stereotypes

Insults

Cold weather

Mess

Being alone

Trivia:

Nuriko has very bad eyesight (-6). She wears contact lenses, but sometimes she can wear glasses when her eyes get tired.

Nuriko is sharing her lusus with her little sister, Hildri.

Surprisingly, Nuriko is good at taking care of grubs. She was shocked when she found out about it, after she helped Phecda in the cave once.

Nuriko works in a boarding high school where she teaches the history of Alternia.

Nuriko has a big collection of crystals and rocks that she has been collecting since her childhood.

Nuriko doesn’t have much clothes, so you could see her in the same outfit more often.

Relationships:

Matesprit - Open!

Moirail - Open!

Kismesis - Open!

Auspistice - Open!

Out of quadrants

Younger Sister - Hildri. She wished her sister could be less reckless about things as she is tired of being worried about her every time.

Old friend - Phecda. They were pretty good friends in the past and have a lot in common. Unfortunately, they stopped seeing each other and lost the connection. Nuriko really misses her and her wonderful cakes.

Old acquaintance - Seyfer. They didn’t talk much with each other, but she knew him as Phecda’s husband.

Ex-student - Crucis. Crucis was one of Nuriko’s students. She is very proud of her and very sorry for what happened between her and Hildri.

Old friend - Gienah. He was one of her friends who supported her and cared about her well-being. She really misses him and their time together on a shopping spree.

Old acquaintance - Pavoni. Nuriko knew them as Crucis's and Hildri’s babysitter. She doesn’t know what they are doing right now, but hopes they are ok.

Acquaintance - DJ Cupcake. Nuriko recognized her once in the spaceship. They talked about some stuff and got along pretty good. Later she saw her leaving the ship from a distance and it made her a little upset.

Neighborhood/Acquaintance - Squati. She always sees them spending their time at the beach from her hive. They talk with each other from time to time and get along pretty well.

Backstory:

Nuriko and Hildri became sisters early in their childhood. Nuriko was around 3.23 sweeps (7 y.o.) when her lusus adopted young fuchsia.

It happened when MotherHydra was training Nuriko how to fight. They were training in the open ocean, improving her fighting skill. Nuriko personally didn’t like their training as it wasn’t something she wanted to do in the future, but she couldn’t oppose her lusus at that time.

As the training was coming to end, suddenly both of them heard a cry of help and sounds of drones flying around. Confused, Nuriko and MotherHydra rushed to investigate the scene. When they both approached the place - it was a place surrounded by rocks with a cave near it, the only thing they saw was drones flying away, then much later it was followed by another cry for help. MotherHydra figured out it sounded from the cave, so she rushed inside with her daughter.

Nothing was strange about the tunnels, but as soon as Nuriko’s lusus noticed a bit of blood on the ground, she immediately covered her daughter’s eyes and told her to look away. Nuriko was confused about it, but followed MotherHydra’s instructions.

Following the trace of blood, soon, MotherHydra reached the end of the cave and her heart broke into pieces. She saw a heavily injured lusus, protecting a small grub with her whole body and it touched her huge heart. The other lusus looks similar to MotherHydra, but a bit smaller with less heads.

MotherHydra promised her to protect her grub and in return other lusus told her name - Hydrus and the name of the grub - Hildri. Then Hydrus died with a small smile right in the cave.

It was heartbroken to witness for MotherHydra. She couldn’t believe such a tragic event happened to the poor grub and later took a grub under her wing, adopting her as her second daughter.

Meanwhile Nuriko didn’t understand and was confused by that at the moment. She watched her lusus take care of the grub, wondering when she’ll find the grub a new lusus, but when MotherHydra was too busy to feed the grub for some reason, Nuriko helped her with it…

… and only after that did she realize what her words meant.

Nuriko and Hildri become sisters.

Nuriko started to care of Hildri and helped her with anything she asks, trying to be a good older sister. It inspired and motivated Nuriko to become a teacher in the future and teach young trolls about Alternia.

As Hildri grew up, Nuriko worried more and more about her well-being, her behavior and actions. Of course, she couldn’t control her actions, but it still made her stress out whenever she saw Hildri with bruises and scratches on her face.

And one day, Hildri brought a homeless troll with her lusus and introduced her to Nuriko as Crucis. Nuriko was shocked by this, but when she found out about the Crucis and MotherChameleon’s condition, she immediately gave the poor girl some food and medicine for her lusus. Unfortunately, because their hive was underwater, Crucis couldn’t stay, but Nuriko asked her friend, Phecda, to let Crucis to stay for a while. Thankfully, Phecda agreed and took care of the poor girl while her hive was under construction.

Nuriko and Hildri helped Crucis whenever they could and gave some things such as laptop, phone, food and ect, so Crucis could feel comfortable living a new life.

Nuriko even took her as her student when Crucis asked to teach her, assigning her to the school she was working at.

Nuriko had a pretty steady life with new friends and her sister, not worrying about anything. It seems as if everything was okay…

…but unfortunately, something went wrong.

Nuriko got a letter from a Seadweller Council where it stated that Hildri is a candidate for a throne. She got scared by this news, knowing well even if Hildri doesn’t want to fight for the throne, she would be forced to. Nuriko tried her best to shield Hilri from this news, but soon enough Hildri got her own letter.

Hildri disappeared the next morning and only left the same letter and the note:

‘Sorry, sis, but I have to go. If they really want me to fight over the stupid throne so bad, then i’ll deliver it in my own way.’

Nuriko was terrified. She didn’t know what to do, but back in her mind, Nuriko knew she needed to follow Hildri and protect her from whenever she faced.

She is an older sister.

She promised MotherHydra to protect Hildri.

She is responsible for her.

Nuriko rushed to the place (spaceship) where there was a meeting and just in time, she noticed Hildri going to the spaceship. She immediately stopped her and tried to convince her to think twice before entering a tournament. Unfortunately, Hildri didn’t listen to her older sister and went to the reception desk. Nuriko felt hopeless at that moment.

The only thing she could do is wait for Hildri as drones wouldn’t let her enter. While waiting, Nuriko met a famous DJ with whom she had a nice conversation. Sadly, their conversation ended early, but it was still nice to meet a celebrity for Nuriko.

After a few hours, she saw Hildri coming back, but something was wrong. Hildri was quiet, too quiet and her head was lowered. And Nuriko asked what’s wrong, Hildri just rushed to her and hugged her, crying. It shocked Nuriko very much to see her little sister cry for hours. She carefully listened to her story and just hugged her in return.

She can’t leave her with such baggage in her life.

Nuriko stayed by her sister’s side.

After that, Nuriko gathered (rigged) documents about her being Hildri’s lusus, so she could travel with her sister to help/support. It was a VERY risky move, but thankfully, no one seems to notice a few corrections here and there.

Then both sisters packed their things in a few days and later on they left Alternia in the spaceship without telling anyone.

Sadly, Nuriko couldn’t watch over Hildri all the time as lususes were placed in a different location. Nuriko was pretty worried while watching her sister, but supported until the end. She knew Hildri would win.

And so she won.

When the tournament ended, Hildri and Nuriko reunited and returned back to Alternia where they decided to contact their old friends.

Nuriko is just glad to finally be home.

#Lernae Sisters #Bio

0 notes

fleshbloodcomeundone · 1 year

Text

December 26 2022 4:10 AM

I’ve always known I was depressed. And that I do suffer with anxiety. Diagnosed or not. I’ve had it way too long for me to believe I have a stable way of processing things. I’ve been with a number of people, both romantic and platonic, for me to compare the way I process things with them. And I know I am unorthodox. I have long accepted that. Self-diagnosing isn’t all that bad. Especially when things are this obvious. I think there are things that need clinical diagnosing. When it gets so specific that you stop knowing what name to give it. Anxiety and depression go hand in hand. You usually have one when you have the other. And vice versa. But when it comes a more specific way of anxiety and depression in your system, that’s when you need a doctor.

Anyway, I do not want to talk about that right now. Not about anxiety or depression. I’ve had that conversation countless of times. There’s nothing else I need to add to it.

Lately, I’ve been juggling with the thoughts of having ADHD. I’ve always known the symptoms of having ADHD. But to read about it and hear it from people who have it, I relate a little too well with it. In a way I’m not proud of.

I’ve always wondered why I never did well in school. I used to think I was stupid. Or lazy. I just never found it interesting enough to excel in. I wanted to excel in other things. I’ve always been into whatever I was into. Normal academic criteria has never impacted me. I called myself a trouble maker. Just so I had a label for it. But now with this knowledge of ADHD, I could finally admit that I could actually never concentrate well in class. No matter how hard I tried. And trust me, I did try. I could never understand whatever they were talking about. I could always tune them out. I almost had selective hearing. I was interested in other things.

I could never truly call myself stupid. Especially now that I know so many things. And I know I do. I have too many interests. I read articles and books and look up things I fixate on. I look up everything about whatever I fixate on. I have so many things to talk about. I could talk about whatever I could talk about. I can’t be stupid or any of these would not stick.

Gian told me that I have symptoms of ADHD. Similar symptoms. But diagnosing ADHD on grown women is a peculiar case and takes so much more time than diagnosing a man with ADHD. Off the bat, I know I can’t afford that.

But lately, I’ve been thinking of something else. I’ve been thinking of autism.

With my knowledge of autism now, I know that autism is a spectrum. And if everyone on earth could get clinically checked out, we’d all obviously have a piece of something. (Honestly, I don’t believe anyone is safe from a mental disorder. Therefore, it can’t be a disorder. They’re just labels on what kind of brain you have)

Sometimes I think I have autistic tendencies. These are traits I found I relate to:

Being able to learn things in detail and remember information for long periods of time

Being strong visual and auditory learners

I remember everything in detail. Like they happened yesterday. And I get so easily upset when others don’t. Which I find strange because nobody remembers anything the way I do. I remember things in great detail. And they say that trauma makes you forget things in detail. But I remember every single thing that happened to me. I can replay them in my head. The things I forget are the things I forget on purpose. But I remember things so well. I remember learning the meaning of words as a child and I remember learning how to do things for the first time. I remember a lot of my firsts as a child. I don’t think anyone tries to remember them. I don’t try to remember them. But I do remember them. I remember them in first person. I could draw it out for you if I had the skill to draw.

Being strong visual and auditory learners? Yes. Unconsciously. I find patterns every where. And I follow them. They are ingrained in my mind. How I remember things is through patterns. I don’t really know how to explain it. But that is how I tend to remember or memorize things. Through patters. Whether it be of color or of sound. I am really good at timing them too. I don’t know how. I just excel at that.

Sometimes, I even know things through patterns and context clues that others don’t. I am surprised when they don’t because to me it seems obvious. I know things without knowing them.

Also, I do not know how to handle my emotions. Everything is always at the extremes for me. No matter how hard I try to conceal them. It always feels like the worst is happening. Like I am going to explode. I am 25 and I still feel that way. I do not know how to keep my cool. I end up feeling so small at the height of it.

These are just things I notice about myself. And I have no idea what it is. But I know my brain is wired differently. I just don’t know how.

0 notes

justkeepdancing-nemo · 1 year

Text

Failing Nemo || Romo Texts

Summary: On the last week of the term, the stress from uni becomes too much for Nemo.

Part One of Finding Nemo: Uni Arc

tw: anxiety, depression

DECEMBER 13

Nemo Bae

hey heeeeeey hi what r u doing rn are u studying? [deleted] pay attention to meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee [deleted] im losing my mind haha

Robbie

Hey Yeah, I'm studying for my anatomy final which is kind of boring but I swear they added more parts to the human body since I last learned this Nemo Bae

ahahh there are like a tonne of bones thats so weird tho ur a vet student shouldnt u learn about animal parts

Robbie

I think that comes next when I get into more specialized stuff ugh so many bones though you're right how are you though

Nemo Bae

missing youuuu come hang out with me

Robbie

How is studying for finals going? Last time I came to see you we didn't study at all. I failed you

Nemo Bae

thats bc i dont wanna study lol its pointless but hanging out with uuuu isnt

Robbie

Studying isn't pointless Why do you think it's pointless

Nemo Bae

i just cant do it lol i try and i cant pay attention and my back always hurts too much to like sit in one place but if i lay down i fall asleep bc its so boring my grades suck anyway

Robbie

aw that's probably not true I'm sure your grades don't suck I could come over and help you for real this time I can quiz you and stuff

Nemo Bae

they do robbie im not smart like you. i cant write like you. my grades are really bad and ive gotten incompletes in my fellows class because i havent even turned in stuff

Robbie

Hey you're smart don't say that

Nemo Bae

but its true im not smart okay im not cut out for this i dunno i feel like it was just a mistake and im gonna fail anyway so

Robbie

like going to school was a mistake? Nemo you're smart and you can do it. I know you can. You just have to keep trying. it sounds like you're giving up

Nemo Bae

yeah i am ahah ive TRIED ok i keep trying to study for my finals and i cant do it i tried all semester but all i did was hurt myself so i couldnt even dance i have to write final papers in my ballet and contemporary classes now thats two more papers im just gonna go back to the hollow

Robbie

Nemo I can help okay it's not the end of the world and it's going to be fine

Nemo Bae

no its not you dont get it because tis easy for you

Robbie

it's not easy I still have to study like everyone else That's just how school is And if it looks easy it's because I had a lot of years to learn a lot of things But those were years where I had to try and study hard and put in the effort it doesn't just happen for me

Nemo Bae

well i shouldnt distract you from studying then

Robbie

Nemo

Nemo Bae

what? thats what you're saying you say you gotta study and all im doing is getting in your way you dont have time to help me anyway esp when it doesnt matter and its too late Robbie

We can talk about it more don't just pull away. That's not what I'm saying it's not too late we can work on it together

Nemo Bae

and then when i fail anyway????

Robbie

then you pick yourself up and try again You can replace those grades if you really think you're going to fail You can retake the class

Nemo Bae

i dont want to. i DONT. its too much and too stressful theres a reason not a lot of fairies go to uni esp not from a hollow im so tired of sucking this much

Robbie

You don't suck

Nemo Bae

how would u even know how much i suck robbie youre not in my classes do u want me to send u pics of all my shitty papers lol then youll realize im a lost cause

Robbie

I will never think you are a lost cause

Nemo Bae

i dont even see why we're arguing about this its not even your business

Robbie

Oh its not? im not supposed to care?

Nemo Bae

i just dont see why you do this much

Robbie

You don't see why I care about you and your life this much

Nemo Bae

i dont see why you care about whether or not i go to school if you cared about me then youd say ok nemo i love you but apparently i have to be a freaking genius for you too

Robbie

Because you wanted to go to school? Because you want to take all those dance classes?

Nemo Bae

but i was wrong okay? and it sucks and i spent my appa's money and he's gonna be disappointed in me and clearly you're disappointed in me

Robbie

im not disappointed I just think you're being too hard on yourself

Nemo Bae

i feel like quitting is actually finally letting myself chill but ok

Robbie

im just afraid you'd regret it and I really don't think it's as much of a lost cause as you think it is But I can butt out I guess im sorry

Nemo Bae

its my fault its fine i'll let you get back to studying [deleted] this conversation felt really bad, im sorry i was.. i didnt mean to make it sound [deleted] maybe we can try it, you helping me deleted] im sorry, robbie

Robbie

Yeah, if you wanna talk later just text me

Nemo Bae

okay

DECEMBER 13, SEVERAL HOURS LATER

Robbie

hey i just wanted to check and see how you are doing and say i'm sorry for upsetting you

Nemo Bae

you really dont have to apologize. im the one. i know i lashed out at you and took a lot of my frustration and stress out on you and im really sorry about that. i shouldnt have said a lot of the things i said. i know youre just caring about me. im feeling a little better now though

Robbie

That's good! If you want me to come over I can. I want to see you

Nemo Bae

oh im actually uh i kinda left lol i'll be back in a couple of days though! i wanna see you then

Robbie

You left?

Nemo Bae

yeah i think i needed to get out and clear my head and i already feel a lot better

Robbie

Oh okay that makes sense. Did you go to the hollow

Nemo Bae

no im going camping with tae

Robbie

camping?

Nemo Bae

yeah there's this campsite we went to in the summer its got little cabins too tho we might just sleep in the car

Robbie

aren't your finals and stuff...are you gonna miss them?

Nemo Bae

probably? i told you though, im gonna fail anyway and seriously as soon as i decided to go it was like a huge weight off my shoulders i'll work on my papers maybe a little while im gone idk

Robbie

okay I love you be safe please

Nemo Bae

we will! i love you too robbie i really do wanna talk when i get back

Robbie

ill be here

#romo #text #eek

0 notes