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mxnsterbabe · 2 months

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Male Troll/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,343 Tags & Warnings: plus size monster Part One (here) | Part Two (coming soon!) Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You’re an escort, but the last thing you expected was to fall for your favourite client.

You pause outside the sleek facade of the restaurant, the cool evening air caressing your skin. Glancing at your phone one last time, you scroll through Sorrel's profile, absorbing every detail. Sorrel, an unusual name for an even more unusual client.

Trolls rarely make their way into the heart of the city, preferring the solitude of their natural dwellings. Yet here you are, about to meet one for dinner in one of the most upscale places in town.

Your job often demands a chameleon-like ability to adapt, to mould yourself into whatever your clients desire. A laugh here, a sympathetic nod there, all performed with the ease of a well-rehearsed play.

Sorrel's request is refreshingly simple: just company, and above all, authenticity. It's both refreshing and daunting. How long has it been since you were asked to simply be yourself?

Taking a deep breath, you tuck your phone away. Your reflection in the restaurant's glass doors gives you a moment's pause—a young woman, elegantly dressed, poised on the edge of an unfamiliar encounter.

With a final steadying breath, you push the door open and step into the warm, amber-lit interior.

A pretty waitress, with a smile as polished as the cutlery, guides you through the restaurant when you enter. The beauty of the place unfolds around you; all soft lighting and hushed tones. Chandeliers cast a golden glow over tables draped in pristine white linen, each adorned with delicate glassware and silver.

The murmur of conversation blends with the gentle clinking of dishes, and soft, classical music plays. It doesn’t strike you as the kind of place a troll would like; they’re known for their love of natural living, not fine-dining.

As you take in the opulence, a flutter of self-consciousness washes over you. The elegance of your surroundings makes you feel suddenly underdressed, and you can't help but wonder about Sorrel. The cost of dining here must be astronomical; does he intend to make a statement, perhaps to showcase you as a trophy of his affluence?

As you approach the booth, you see him. Sorrel is a striking figure, a hulking presence that commands the space around him. His mossy green hair, a wild, natural crown, complements the dense fur that covers his body. His eyes, sharp and discerning, fix on you, and there's an intelligence in his gaze that belies the brutish stereotype of his kind. Despite the tailored suit that strains slightly against his muscular frame, there's no disguising the power in his broad shoulders, the soft curve of his belly. The suit, while elegant, seems almost a concession to human norms, doing little to mask his inherent, rugged appeal.

A wave of unexpected attraction washes over you, stirring a flush of excitement in your stomach. It's an odd sensation, this pull towards someone so different.

Gathering your composure, you slide into the booth, the soft leather cool against your skin. The space between you and Sorrel crackles with an energy as you offer a gentle smile.

"Hello," you begin, your voice well-rehearsed. You're acutely aware of your posture, the calculated tilt of your head, the practiced smile. Sorrel asked for authenticity, but it’s difficult when faced with such an imposing man.

Sorrel's response, however, is not what you anticipate. His voice, deep and resonant, carries a gentleness that seems at odds with his formidable appearance. "Good evening," he rumbles, his sharp eyes softening. "I hope the night finds you well."

As he speaks, the tension in your shoulders begins to ebb. There's a sincerity in his words, a vulnerability that peeks through the confident exterior.

With a smile, you turn to the menu. You hesitate, the array of exquisite dishes foreign and intimidating. There are a lot of words, and a lot of words that you don’t understand.

Maybe sensing your uncertainty, Sorrel leans in. His hands brush against yours, and the warmth of him makes you shiver..

"The risotto is my favourite. The salmon, too - it’s this one here, at the bottom."

You glance up at him, face flushed. You’ve been on countless escort jobs, and it’s always just been that. A job. Yet, as you soak in Sorrel’s warmth, his fur tickling your palm, something stirs inside you.

The words stick in the back of your throat as a waitress arrives. All you can do is nod in agreement as Sorrel makes a suggestion, and the waitress departs with your order.

There's a lull in the conversation, a moment of silence as you take in the man before you. "I must admit," you find yourself saying, breaking the quiet with a nervous laugh, "I didn't expect someone like you to be in a place like this." The words are out before you can stop them, and a flush of embarrassment warms your cheeks. "I mean, I made assumptions based on... well, what I thought I knew about trolls. I'm sorry."

Sorrel's laughter, rich and warm, fills the space between you. "No offense taken," he assures, his smile genuine. "I often find myself frequenting these types of restaurants. The same way the forest holds its charm, so does a well-crafted dish or a beautifully composed piece of music."

"I've not had the chance to dine in places as grand as this very often," you admit with a laugh, the restaurant's opulence still wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "It's a rare treat. You must do quite well for yourself, Sorrel. What is it that you do?"

Sorrel sets his glass down, the light catching the deep green of his eyes. "I left my clan some years ago," he begins, his voice solemn now. "We had... differing views on how to engage with the expanding human world. I believed in integration, in finding a way to coexist beneficially."

You lean in, captivated by his story, the depth of his conviction. "So, what did you do?"

"I started my own company," he says, a hint of pride in his voice. "We specialize in eco-friendly construction materials. It sounds dull, I know, but it’s something I care about."

Your chest flutters. "That's incredible," you respond, genuinely impressed. "Although, I’m sorry about your family.

He shrugs. “Don’t be, it’s been a long time since I’ve been back home.”

The arrival of the meal serves as a delicious interruption, and the garlicky, savoury smell makes your mouth water. The risotto you chose under Sorrel's recommendation is creamy and rich, with the earthy aroma of truffles enveloping you. Sorrel's salmon is presented with an artistry that matches the taste, the fish's delicate flesh flaking at the touch of his fork.

"This is incredible," you murmur, savouring each bite, your previous apprehensions about the evening melting away with the flavors on your tongue.

Sorrel smiles, watching you with a contented gaze that makes your heart flutter. "I'm glad you're enjoying it."

You smile, delving in, beginning to forget that this isn’t a real date. As you eat, the conversation meanders from the culinary arts to travel, to the hidden corners of the world each of you dreams of exploring. He’s a traveller, like you, although he’s visited places you could never dream of.

As the main course plates are cleared away, Sorrel suggests a dessert to share, a classic tiramisu that promises to be as light as air. When it arrives, you both lean in, the spoon Sorrel hands you brushing against his, sending a spark of electricity through you. You scoop a small portion, the dessert's creamy layers dissolving instantly on your tongue, and you can't help but close your eyes in appreciation.

"Good?" Sorrel asks, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

"More than," you reply, opening your eyes to find his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that quickens your pulse.

It's easy, in the soft lighting and over the shared sweetness of dessert, to forget the nature of how this evening came to be.

It's only when the waiter discreetly presents the bill that reality nudges you back into your role. Sorrel doesn't hesitate, reaching for his wallet with a grace that belies his size.

"How would you prefer the payment?" he asks, his tone casual but with a hint of something more, perhaps a reluctance for the evening to end in such a transactional manner.

The question jolts you back to the present, a reminder of the professional boundary that, for a fleeting moment, had seemed all but erased. "A bank transfer would be fine, thank you," you manage to say, your voice steady despite the way your stomach twists.

As you stand to leave, the warmth of the restaurant's ambiance contrasts sharply with the cool detachment now settling over you. Sorrel escorts you to the exit, his presence as reassuring as it is imposing.

At the doorway, you turn to him, the night air cool on your skin. "Thank you, Sorrel, for a truly wonderful evening," you say, sincerity lacing your words.

"Thank you," he replies, and something like regret flickers in his eyes.

On impulse, you rise on your toes and place a gentle kiss on his cheek. It's a small gesture, but it carries the weight of all the evening's revelations, his fur soft against your neck.

“Goodbye, Sorrel.”

“Goodbye. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

As you part ways, the night swallowing his towering figure, you're left with a warmth that no chill can dispel. The memory of the evening, of Sorrel, lingers like a sweet aftertaste, leaving you wondering just how you’re supposed to forget about him.

***

A week slips by, quieter than usual, leading you to pick up part-time shifts at a local hotel to fill the gaps. The monotony of the days contrasts sharply with the vivid memory of your evening with Sorrel, which lingers no matter how much you try to forget.

When a new request pops up on the escort site from Sorrel, your heart leaps. The anticipation, the unexpected thrill of seeing him again, infuses your routine with a newfound energy. Preparations for your meeting are made with a care and attention you hadn't realized you'd been missing.

The park chosen for your rendezvous is entirely different to the opulent restaurant of your first encounter. As the evening draws in, the tranquility of the park, with its towering trees and the soft murmur of the evening breeze, soothes your nerves.

You spot Sorrel at the agreed-upon spot, his imposing figure somehow at peace among the natural surroundings. Today, he’s wearing a more casual fitted black shirt that hugs his generous curves.

His face lights up as he sees you approach, a genuine smile spreading across his features.

"It's wonderful to see you again," he greets, his voice carrying a warmth that wraps around you like a comforting embrace.

"The feeling's mutual, Sorrel," you reply, your own smile reflecting your genuine happiness. "I wasn't sure if you'd... well, want to meet again."

"Why wouldn't I?" he asks, his tone laced with genuine confusion and a hint of amusement. "Our last evening together was more enjoyable than I've had in a long time. I've been looking forward to this all week."

Your heart flutters at his words. It’s your job, you know, to be liked - but hearing it from him sends a thrill through you.

"I'm glad,” you say. “I've thought a lot about our last, er, date."

Sorrel's gaze softens, the park's gentle evening light casting a serene glow over his features. "I've found myself doing the same. There's a simplicity in your company, a peace I've come to... crave."

The admission hangs between you. It's clear that the bond formed over that dinner has only deepened with time, but you have to wonder if this feels all a little too real.

"Would you like to take a walk?" Sorrel suggests, gesturing to the winding path that leads deeper into the park.

"I'd like that," you agree, and together, you begin to walk. You link an arm through his, enjoying how big and sturdy he is. It’s difficult to resist the urge to lean in close, soaking up the scent of his cologne.

The park around you is quiet, the occasional rustle of leaves and distant sounds of the city the only interruptions to the silence.

As you walk alongside Sorrel, the proximity and the gentle brush of his hand against yours send ripples of excitement through you. Each step seems to synchronize with the beating of your heart, a rhythm that echoes the growing closeness between you. The thrill of all surprises you, and you find yourself leaning deeper against his plush side.

The small talk that fills the air between you is comfortable, and you find yourself eagerly listening to Sorrel’s deep, rumbling voice. You chat about the park, and the mundane details of your respective weeks. Yet, beneath the surface, there's a tension, as if there’s something more floating beneath the surface.

It's Sorrel who breaks the veil of casual conversation, his voice taking on a more somber tone. "You know, I've always found myself caught between two worlds," he begins, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. "In the city, I'm too troll for most people to understand. Among my own kind, my views, my... aspirations make me an outsider. Too modern for my own kind, but too different for everybody else."

You listen, your heart aching at the vulnerability he's willing to share. The loneliness of his position between two worlds, becomes achingly clear.

"That's part of why I sought your company initially," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "I needed to feel understood, even if it was just for a moment, even if it had to be... bought."

The honesty of his admission strikes a chord within you, the professional facade crumbling further with each word.

"Now," Sorrel pauses, taking a deep breath, "my mother is ill. She's asked me to come home."

The weight of his words hangs in the air, heavy with the gravity of his decision. The silence that follows is filled with a thousand unasked questions, each one a reflection of the complexity of his situation and the depth of your concern for him.

"What will you do?" you find yourself asking, the question laden with more than professional curiosity. It's a question born of a connection that's deepened beyond expectation, a genuine concern for his well-being.

Sorrel stops walking, turning to face you. In the fading light, his expression is a mix of resolve and uncertainty, green eyes thoughtful.

"I don't know," he admits, and in that moment, the vulnerability he displays, the raw honesty of his predicament, draws you even closer.

You stay quiet, allowing him a moment to think.

Sorrel's gaze drifts away for a moment, lost in thought, as if he's trying to piece together the puzzle of his future right there in front of you. "I think I need to go back," he says finally, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of resignation. "I want to be there for her, help her heal. She's always been the anchor of our clan, and without her strength..."

He trails off, the weight of his responsibilities, of his love for his family, evident in the pause. "Once she's well, perhaps I'll return to the city. Or perhaps not. The truth is, I don't know where I truly belong."

The vulnerability in his admission, the open-ended nature of his future, pulls at something deep within you. You reach out, almost instinctively, your hand finding his. The touch is electric, and you let out a muffled sigh.

"It sounds like you've got a tough road ahead," you say, your voice soft but full of empathy. "Being there for your family, making sure your mother has everything she needs to recover... it's a beautiful thing to do, Sorrel. It speaks a lot about the kind of person you are."

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and in his eyes, you see a mixture of gratitude and something else, something deeper.

"Thank you," he whispers, and there's a warmth in his voice that wraps around you like a comforting embrace. "For understanding, for... for being here with me now."

The moment stretches between you. So does the quiet. The world around you fades into the background, leaving only the heavy thrum of your pulse in your ears.

"You should do what's best for you," you find yourself saying, your words laced with an unspoken sadness at the thought of his departure. "Your family needs you, and it's clear your heart is with them, too."

Sorrel squeezes your hand gently, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in your words. "I guess I always knew my path would lead me back home, eventually."

A twinge of disappointment tugs at your heart as the reality of Sorrel's impending departure settles in. Despite the professional boundaries you should adhere to, you can't deny the longing that has blossomed between you. Yet, beneath the layers of what-ifs, you find resignation setting in.

As you both resume walking, the conversation gently shifts, weaving through lighter topics. You admit, you’re grateful for the change of topic.

You share stories of your travels, the places Sorrel has been, places you’d love to go.

"I've always wanted to visit Thailand," you mention wistfully, the image of crystal-clear waters and verdant landscapes painting your words. "The culture, the food, the beaches... it seems like a world away from here."

Sorrel listens intently, his interest genuine. "Thailand is beautiful," he agrees, "you should go sometime."

The conversation takes an unexpected turn when Sorrel, with a look of determination, insists on paying you extra for your time. "Consider it a contribution towards your Thailand adventure," he says, his tone brooking no argument.

You hesitate, aghast at the number when you check your bank account. Three-thousand dollars. The offer touching yet tinged with the finality of a parting gift.

"Sorrel, that's too generous, I can't—"

"Please," he interrupts, his voice soft but firm. "Let this be my way of ensuring you get to experience the beauty of the world. You deserve it."

The sincerity in his eyes, coupled with the depth of gratitude you feel, crumbles your resistance. "Thank you," you say, the words barely a whisper, laden with a mix of emotions. "I'll never forget this."

You don’t know what else to say; but as it is, you don’t need to.

As you stand there, on the brink of farewell, Sorrel leans in. His kiss is unexpected but fervently returned as you stand on your toes, arms looping around his wide, plush waist. His lips are firm against yours, nipping at you with a passion that ignites a fire within you, the heat of his touch searing through the cool night air.

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, the world falls away, leaving only the two of you locked together, pulse racing.

As the kiss ends, a lingering warmth remains. You stand there, caught in the afterglow, the night air now charged with longing.

Sorrel's gaze holds yours, a myriad of unspoken words swirling in the depths of his eyes. "This... This was unexpected," he murmurs, the raw honesty in his voice mirroring the vulnerability in his gaze.

You nod, a gentle smile curving your lips despite the ache in your chest. "The best things usually are," you reply, your voice soft, laced with the bittersweet tang of parting.

There's a pause, a moment suspended in time, before you lean in for one final kiss. This one is softer,, a whisper of a goodbye in the brief touch of lips.

With a light-heartedness that feels forced, you step back and offer a playful smile. "Keep in touch, okay?" The words slip out, half in jest, half in hope, even as you understand the impossibility of the request.

Sorrel's smile is tinged with a gentle sadness, an acknowledgment of the unlikelihood of such a promise. "I'll remember this," he says, his voice a low rumble, rich with emotion. "I'll remember you."

You know, from the snippets of his life he's shared, that returning to his clan means stepping away from the world as you know it. The isolation of his people, their disconnection from the modern trappings of communication, almost brings tears to your eyes.

As you part ways, the echo of his final words lingers in your heart. The night wraps around you, and you shudder.

You hope to see him again someday. Somehow, you have the feeling that you will.

#exophilia fiction #exophilia #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x reader #tag: mxf #tag: male monster #tag: female reader #tag: sfw #tag: troll #tag: plus size #trying something new bc some people like present tense??#think i'll stick to past tense tbh

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olderthannetfic · 1 year

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Book recommendation anon here

Yeah you've hit the nail on the head. But also made me question if I know what I want looool. As things stand, the books I read of whatever genre are overwhelmingly straight and it makes me a little sad. I'm not looking for tropey things and yeah, when I search for lbgt fiction that's not what I want either. I guess i just want to find the books that are about gay relationships in the way that gen books are about straight relationships. I don't even need it to be a b plot! The older I get the more it feels that anything I buy in a highstreet bookshop is set in an au in which lbgt people do not exist. Does that make sense?

I know I can go to lbgt booksellers but I don't know how to avoid books that are centred around being gay. I guess, I feel like the real world has moved past 'gay' being a sticking point and I live my day to day life crossing paths with lbgt people just living their lives and then everything I read that's not fic is just lacking that. I know that is largely because of how new it is for lbgt life to be like this. Published fiction is 99% straight. But I guess I wish there was somewhere I could go to speak to other readers who happen to be lbgt but are readers first and for them to go 'oh I really liked this character, he was just like me or my friend or my partner'. I guess I just want background gays? Or main characters who happen to be gay but that's not the story.

Your books look fun actually! I think I'll check them out.

I'm a complete genre whore which is part of the problem lol. I'm not looking for 'gay scifi' or 'gay romance' I just want some of the books I read to represent the world as I see it. I love mystery books, thrillers, adventure stories, I'll read any kind of fantasy (not a great fan of really long series cause I either lose time and read 7 books in a few weeks or I lose interest half way), I'll read historical works. Ones set in mundane real life, ones set in created worlds. I try and avoid stories that are too scary lol as I get really taken in by them, but I do end up reading quite a few of them anyway. I do love a romance tbh but it has to be done well and I've never been able to figure out exactly what I want from them. A lot of men in het romance books are frankly terrifying, and their love interests wouldn't know a red flag if it hit them in the face. I don't like anything that's too forgiving of its characters i guess? I want them to feel real and part of that is them having the humanity to make mistakes but if I feel like the author doesn't Know they've written a Bad Person tm I get weirded out lol. Nothing better than a misguided character that the author has fully intended to be misguided. I don't need them therapised. I do like an acknowledgement from the author that people aren't good or bad and I like the characters I read to show that. I love a sympathetic bad person. And... this is telling you nothing about what I like to read lol.

I guess the main thing is that I'll read anything as long as it grips me. 'Well written' is very subjective isn't it. I want to be caught up in it, I don't want to be thrown out of the story by dialogue I can't follow or an arc which even the author doesn't seem to be sure of. I don't actually mind overly flowery writing, I love learning new words lol. But really long sentences annoy me (very hypocritical I know. My formal writing is about as convoluted as this). I'm pretty forgiving of most things if I like what I'm reading tbh. I'm not a past tense purist and I'll put up with a inconsistent character if I can see they are supposed to be like that.

I read the seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo recent-ish ly and I liked the f/f relationship in that. I've enjoyed Sarah waters books which are historical lesbian romance, so I'll def go for 'lbgt fiction' I just need other stuff going on. I need an actual story, not just a coffee shop au plunged in to a original story. Honestly if you go for space opera at all, you should read a matter of oaths, it was fab. I was guessing right till the end, did not expect it at all. The only thing I'd change about it is I'd love more tbh. A sequel would be fab. I love things with twists, so I'll read just about any kind of mystery. Anything where the narrative is untangling a story that already happened is fun. I enjoy gillian flynn, David Mitchell, honestly I'll pretty much read anything. I get a lot of my books second hand or from my libraries ebook service (this is pretty limited) so I read a lot of the award winners a few years late, where everyone bought it and now I can get it cheap. That said I've never had any interest in fifty shades or any popular ya books in the years since I've been a young adult lol. I mainly want to read about people around my age. 30s or so if it's more of a mundane life story. If the story takes you outside of every day life then I care less about ages. I've read some great stories with older protagonists.

Hmmmm I guess I don't know enough about what I'm looking for for ppl to recommend actual books which is fair enough as I'm massively picky and that doesn't work with ppl I know Irl either but like... where are you guys going for book reviews??? I'm gonna check out what ppl have mentioned in the notes of that post but yeah i think i need some go to places for reviews. Maybe that's where I should be starting.

It's definitely a problem. I'm not big on gay lit myself for similar reasons.

As far as I know, mystery has a longer history of including more queerness, though of course, the farther back you go, the more of it is tragedy.

where are you guys going for book reviews???

Frankly, nowhere.

All sources of queer book reviews I've found have been completely useless to me. Only lists of what exists have been useful, not lists that try to tell me what's "good".

I'll google "gay werewolf FBI" and then judge for myself what's garbage and what's at least up to the level of bad fic I'd read anyway. I've found plenty I've liked well enough to read. I haven't found so much I'd unequivocally rec, especially if someone is looking for high quality prose.

And horror of horrors, a lot of authors I once liked seem to have reacted to pandemic stress by taking all of the conflict out of their books.

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moinsbienquekaworu · 2 years

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Who wants to learn about morphosyntax? Nobody, that's who, but unfortunately I have an exam on this tomorrow, so I'm going to explain it in painful detail to you because I don't want to get a bad grade. (morphosyntax is grammar and it's boring)

This is an exercise where I try to explain it off the top of my head to see what sticks and what I need to check again, unless you're interested in the content of my shitty grammar classes you're free to skip honestly I don't want to inflict useless grammar on poor bystanders

First chapter, time, tense, and aspect. What are those? Good question.

Time is when a sentence would be put on a timeline, either in the past, the present, the future, or the irrealis use, which is for events that haven't actually happened (if I were rich, I wish you hadn't eaten my cookies, you get the idea.) Tense is the tense of the verb, ie past or present really, because there's no future in your language, it's just a modal. Generally, they're the same, unless it's future/irrealis.

Aspect is - well I had to go looking through my notes for that one and I don't see what the point of that one is tbh. It's if the action is finished or not? Like, is it going to start (prospective), still happening (progressive), finished (perfective), or it keeps happening (iterative). I think the way we're evaluated on that is making little timelines so I'm good. I can also see - oh yeah. For the present you can have four aspects, continuative, resultative, existential and hot news, and for the past it's either continuative, resultative, or irrealis. Don't know what that is lol I'll just ignore it.

Second chapter is much worse, it's all about clause structure.

Definitions first: a sentence is what you call a sentence, capital letter + end-of-sentence punctuation at the end. A clause is a group of word with a verb, a sentence can have one (clausal sentence) or multiple (compound sentence). A phrase is a group of word around a head verb, you can have multiple types (noun phrase around a head noun, verb phrase around a phrase, preposition phrase around a preposition...) "You are such a bitch why do you eat my cereals?" is a sentence, "you are such a bitch" and "why do you eat my cereals" are clauses, and "eat my cereals" is a verb phrase around eat.

Now, say hi to the thing that traumatised me in latin & greek and is the reason I hate grammar, functions. Clauses/words have functions in sentences, which sounds easy when your sentence is "I hate grammar." (I is subject, hate is the verb and grammar is a direct object) But like, it's just such a pain for my brain, it simply Does Not work like that in my head and I hate it. I mean, object, subject, sure, but a predicative complement? complement of preposition? all those adjuncts? Fuck right off.

Speaking of adjuncts <3 adjuncts add meaning to the sentence but can be safely deleted and the sentence still means something. There's adjuncts of time, manner, place, duration, frequency, degree, condition, purpose, result, concession, and cause/reason. Useless bullshit but apparently I have to learn that.

Arguments are - things the sentence needs to work? "The cat sleeps." has one arguments, the cat, but "He invited his mom." has two, he and his mom. That's a verb's valency btw, the minimum number of arguments for the verb to work in a textbook example sentence. Usually you need to arguments for listen (I listen to music) and even if "he never listens" has a single arguments and is a proper sentence that's an exception not a rule.

Backtracking, there's also this thing called constituency tests, to see if the thing is a constituent (what are those, good question), which are replacing that part with it and asking what, and if you can then it's a constituent (in "how you behave is important", how you behave can be replaced by it and you can ask "what is important?" so it is a constituent) What is it if it fails the test? Fuck if I know.

Lastly I will say that syntax trees exist but 1) I'm not getting the graphics tablet out for that and 2) they just use what I explained here so I'm good.

Okay now that was (not) great but it could have been worse, see you next time I need to study for a test!

#consider yourselves grateful you're getting top dollar education for free!#(this is like 170 bucks per year. these are not incredible classes. you can get those lessons online for free too.)#anyway thanks for helping me beat the executive dysfunction tonight!#i have more stuff to do but at least this is done #i need a tag for when i trick myself into doing things by posting on here #hmmm......#look at me doing things #that'll be the achievement tag #wow i have a ramble tag now

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