#i was not built for the life of a college student i fear it's over | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

snghnlvr · 4 months ago

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delicate | nishimura riki

౨ৎ ## love so delicate like yours, synopsis: you've realized how far you've gotten with your boyfriend now that both of you are adults.

extra: at this point, all of the members are taylor swift coded | soft love is the best love | yn is me because im also 18 and i dont wanna pay taxes D:

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! <3

[below the cut]

you sighed as you laid yourself flat against the blankets. you smiled in delight as if your troubles and worries left you.

“school’s over.” you said, feeling your chest heavy. you recalled the school memories that you’ve experienced; both happy and sad, now that you’re taking the next chapter of your life; college.

it’s leaving a bittersweet feeling on your whole body.

“it is.” you looked over your shoulder, to see your boyfriend, riki fiddling with his yearbook. his fingers spotted towards the back of the book, heartfelt messages and inspiring words that his friends wrote for him.

you’re in riki’s backyard, inside of a treehouse both of you built since children with the help of your parents. you’re so lucky your dad is a constructor.

riki is sitting, one leg sticking out and one knee bent as he leans into the wooden walls. this position allows you to admire him from below as the sunlight flashes on his beautiful features.

he’s reading every single message with sincerity and care, from his senior friends that he will probably never see again and his younger juniors that he can’t annoy anymore as he pleases. despite hating waking up early every morning and him dealing with tiring lectures, he has to admit he made memories and friends that’s worth a life time.

“i can’t believe we’re gonna be college students now. where we have to pay off debts, start our career paths, those people who are gonna be closer to 20 than 16 - it’s just,” you took in a breath. “surreal. surreal that we are growing up.”

you had always had a fear of growing up. not wanting to achieve the things and goals you’ve planned on time. you felt like you’re rushing to do everything at once before it becomes too late. you always wanna stay 16 forever; forever naive to understand the real world. how you’re closest friends will separate from you. how everything you’re experiencing right now will be just a memory.

riki glanced down on you where you’re staring off of space. he can sense the anxiety in your tone.

he closes the book after he was staring at a picture. a picture titled, “best couple” and it’s a picture of the both of you standing next to each other, smiling widely. he smiled at how adorable you looked next to him.

he scooted closer to you, making himself comfortable once he lays down next to you. his back lays flat, mimicking your position.

“are you scared?” riki likes to question the obvious, but it helps you reflect on your feelings; how fear is just a feeling and to understand your emotions a bit better.

“just a little anxious just all,” you confessed, looking at riki whose eyes never left yours. “i’m sure it will disappear soon. i mean, everyone experiences this.” you reassure yourself and riki sense it, enjoying your honesty.

“mhm,” riki mumbles. “it’s okay to feel anxious, the future is scary.” he looks down. “it’s only a matter of time how you’re gonna handle it. you create your own future.”

his words ring in your head. he’s right.

riki took your silence as a way that you agree with him.

he then glanced down towards your arm, a black-inked drawing that attracted him. riki scooted closer, his body turned to yours. he propped himself up with his elbow.

no matter how close the proximity is between the both of you, it still makes you nervous til this day. especially with how much older and mature-looking your boyfriend of 6 years is.

“your parents aren’t mad about this?” riki gently poked on your arm, eyes analyzing the art in your arm. it’s only been a week since you decided to get your first tattoo.

it’s beautiful, he thinks.

“not anymore, i’m 18 now.” you huffed out. you remembered the horror on your parents’ faces but a sigh of defeat when they realized you’re now responsible of yourself. it makes you chuckle about their panicked expressions, slowly making themselves aware that you’re not gonna be their little 4 year old reckless daughter anymore.

“i can imagine your mom shrieking.” riki giggled which made you scoffed because he wasn’t wrong.

“your birth flower?” riki asked, his fingertips gently tracing the traces of your birth flower.

your eyes widened a bit at his sudden touch then you looked down at how focused riki was. his eyes were staring at it as if your tattoo was a museum.

your heart beat quickened at the sight.

“the flower that i drew for you in your math notebook in 6th grade.” riki smiled, realizing how much time flies since you guys called it official since middle school. you’ve remembered the nervousness riki’s hands were, fiddling the bouquet of origami flowers. flowers he made for each that day that he fell in love with you. you thought it was silly. riki has always been caring and kind to you so it was natural for you to reprociate the feelings back. and so, without any pressure or doubts, you guys called it official.

“i thought you threw your old notebooks away..” his voice still remains soft and delicate, still smiling at your tattoo. he started to reminisce the times he would doodle on your notebook without you noticing. like a surprise.

“i ripped the page and kept it since.” when you were going into your freshman self, you looked back into the notebooks to reminsince your middle school memories. you’ve came across a drawing — no other than riki’s in one of your notebooks. you ripped it out and hid it in a safe spot until you get a tattoo of it ever since.

some people thought you guys weren’t gonna make it past middle school — even you too, but since both of you got in the same highschool, it remained strong. a strong string holding your relationship tight.

yes, with hormones acting up and puberty getting in the way, there were times where you guys had fought and argued together to the point it was nearing breaking apart but both of you shouldn’t let it slide. not when it has reached this far. and how much you love each other.

although your boyfriend has grown up, there are occasionally times where he teases you and becomes childish around you, it makes you soft-hearted at how he still has a soul of his 12-year old self. especially moments where he look similar to a duck, which made you think about how much duck plushies you have on your bed because it reminds you of riki.

you’re happy that you’re growing up with him.

“what are you thinking about pretty girl?”

you gasped lightly, realizing that you’re spacing out. you looked at him and you see a small smirk implemented on his face, curious of what your pretty head is thinking about.

your face relaxes, trying to calm yourself. you’re nervous over nothing.

you looked down at your hands, then glance at riki’s hand comfortably resting, then back to your hands. your fingers slowly creep upon riki’s fingers, slowly rubbing them with yours. you smiled at the sight.

“it’s insane to think about how much we’ve grown.” you paused. “together.”

riki’s eyes looked at the sight, his heart beat echoing and growing louder. no matter what you do, you always make him think irrational. he then glances at you smiling when you’re playing with his fingers. “not many people believed in us lasting this long, not even me. i was worried if one of us lost feelings, found someone else better, or get something in our way, but im glad that we didn’t give up.” you looked at riki where his attention was diverted to you. he raised an eyebrow to indicate that he was listening.

“i’m happy that i’m dating you, i can’t express how much i adore you, how much you mean to me, i’ve never felt love this strong before — you’re just everything to me. i can’t imagine laughing harder than with anyone else, smile so much with anyone else. with you, it’s different. thank you for loving me.”

you’re cringing on the inside at how much you confessed in such a short amount of time. you’re met with silence from your boyfriend who seem atonished from your words. you’re embarrassed, pulling back your fingers to cover your blushing cheeks in front of your boyfriend.

riki’s lips twitched, happy for you to express your feelings more comfortably now compared to the past situations. (one of the reasons that you’ve guys argued before) his chest felt light, his grin becoming bigger when you’re hiding from him.

you hear the blankets rustling, you felt riki’s arm slowly snake around your wrist to lightly remove your hand from your face. you removed your embarrassed hands and your eyes followed his hand clasping onto yours. the sight of his veiny hands makes you silent.

you admire the two of you holding hands. your stomach was feeling butterflies just as it was the first time riki confessed his feelings to you. riki twists your wrist, allowing you to see the sight from all angles. it looks so perfect. your hand perfectly structured to hold his.

“you’re just as perfect as to what i am seeing right now.” riki spoke with a soft tone, chuckling when he kept twisting and turning your wrist. “you have a place in my heart no one else could ever have. my heart is so full of you i can hardly call it my own. i choose you. and i’ll choose you over and over. without a pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat, i’ll keep choosing you. as long as i’m alive, you will always be loved.”

you’re speechless at your boyfriend’s words to the point you feel like crying. riki still kept smiling at you, giggling. you saw the crescents formed in his eyes whenever he smiled at you and it never fails to make yourself love him more.

riki took this opportunity to lift himself up, hovering above you. he pecked your forehead. you felt his warm lips touching your skin and the goosebumps always forms whenever he makes you flustered.

you looked up at him, surprised. he looked down at you with his head tilted and a scrunched nose like a puppy, as if he was proud to do that.

nothing but an exchange of loud heart beats matching with one another and genuine giggles back and forth.

riki then leaned in towards you. you closed your eyes at the expected action. his lips touching with yours. electricity flows when he rubs his fingers on your hands. it always make you feel all tingly on the inside.

riki then pulls back, “cute.” he teases you, making your cheeks grow hotter. “shut up.” you rolled eyes, earning a little laugh from him.

riki still doesn’t let go of your intertwined hands as he returns to his original position where you’re laying flat on the ground, shoulder to shoulder.

“so your summer plans?” riki asked casually. he lifted his head as his arm was under his head to act as support.

you then touched your bangs, realizing that you still have that caramel-like highlights since march. you were starting to get bored of it.

you pursed your lips. “maybe dye my hair next week back to black.”

riki’s eyes shined. “match with me.” he spoke without thinking. you turned your head to him, realizing that his hair is black now.

your boyfriend likes it alot when both of you match.

“if you bleach it next month to some color then what?” you pointed out because sometimes your boyfriend makes impulsive decisions on his hair whenever he sees a cool hairstyles. you’re not angry whenever he does this because he’s good looking with whatever hair color he has.

“i won’t bleach it, i promise. i’ll follow you.” riki spoke and it makes you chuckle that he probably doesn’t realize the importance of his words. “red? blue? silver, i’ll do it for you.” you froze at his sudden deep voice erupting from him. your heart beat also freezes when his lips touches the location of your tattoo. you looked down and see his lips pushed forward. your heart flutters once again.

“you’re dumb.” you spoke, eyes softening at what you were hearing.

gosh, you really love this man.

riki smiles against your skin, looking up and your heart twists at an umfamiliar sight. “i can be that.” he whispers like it was a promise.

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pomefioredove · 3 months ago

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Noble Bell ; prologue

what if you were sent to Noble Bell College instead?

type of post: (possible) series characters: rollo (barely mentioned), original characters additional info: reader is gender neutral, this is largely my own vision, I wrote this all in one sitting and it shows LOL, word count: 3.1k author's note: after several failed drafts, I decided to just write my thoughts on noble bell as a story. do tell me what you think and if I should continue, if you have the chance!

prologue | the king of truands, 1 | the king of truands, 2 |

It appeared as if, for all its hundreds of years of life, very little of Noble Bell College had changed.

The original face, or what is left of it at this time, is almost indistinguishable from the prints of great artists who lived when the City of Flowers was still but three parts of one whole. If it were not for her clothes, those great banners of cotton which hang from her walls and surround her like the ruffles of an unflattering dress, that which cradle the insignia of a college in wine-colored hands, that pointed fleur de lis in gold, Noble Bell College would be the very picture of her younger self.

The halls which extend from one end of her body to the other like the grotesque wings of a pigeon were added after the University, which had once been confined to its own division on the left side of the River Soleil, had consumed the island of the City, that which had, at one time, cradled twenty-one of these magnificent buildings, and now had only one. Noble Bell became a skeletal reminder of its medieval past.

Now, what was once a ground of solemnity and penance, and other ancient things, had given a painful birth to a different sort of self-punishment, that of academia. Noble Bell dawned its new clothes and its new name, and became a home of scholars, a place of enlightened thought. The island that had once been a sanctuary for the sacred became its final resting place. The College was built over hallowed ground.

The body of the Gothic building had gone, in some parts, untouched, however, the later additions, done in the style Haussmann some hundreds of years after, coil around her like the chains of a falsely accused prisoner, or the noose around a beggar's neck.

Statues on the face, neglected, crumbled into dust. The colored glass in the lecture halls were replaced with white windows for better light. Every hundred years, some haughty new headmaster would consider cutting down the building herself, and putting something new and ugly in her stead.

Nothing would ever come of it.

It is important to note, dear reader, that though the past of religion and superstition had been abandoned by the scholars of Noble Bell in pursuit of the enlightened future of thought, with it went only the body, not the soul.

The students of Noble Bell began to look upon their history with pride, rather than disdain, and thus the construction on the lady ceased, and the reconstruction started up. In some aspects, it was too late; the medieval glass had already been sold and repurposed into bottles which floated at the surface of the Soleil, the stone turned to dust and carried into the wind.

This romanticized past was tainted with a bitter guilt, one that struck even the proudest of freshmen when they met the eyes of the statues which guarded the building and her history. A sense of possession consumed the heart of the student body, and, thus, a gate was built. It was sanctuary no more.

A romantic would tell you that it is the love of the people that kept the heart of Noble Bell alive.

This is not true; it is guilt.

To the wise man, the realist, the freshman who feared the eyes of the statues, the traditions that carried on were as meaningful as digging up a rotting corpse and putting it on trial. Without the superstition, it was a delusion, a pathetic attempt at absolution for the sins of the scholar and the printing press.

Enlightenment became repulsive to him.

What was in the hollow halls of the Haussmann was never alive, and what had survived the purge of time and man was hidden in the bell tower for few to touch.

To the wise man, the only absolution of sin was through the fire.

Your heart wakes you before your body.

That is to say, the feeling of dread, of knowing you are somewhere you shouldn't be, comes before the biting cold and the splinters pressing against your back.

The inky water surrounding you in three directions (the fourth being the stone mouth of the river) nearly cradles you back to sleep. Your rest was quite comfortable. You can't remember the last time you slept like that.

Your mind is the very last to wake, and it is what finally forces your body up in a sudden jolt, uneasily rocking the boat which had become your manger.

You grip both sides until it steadies, which gives you enough time to adjust to the dark.

One thing becomes quite clear: This is not where you fell asleep.

Then, another: This is not what you were wearing before.

The delicate fabric, hand-dyed in wine and blood red, is like nothing you own. Where had these come from? Surely, not your closet.

And, more worrying: how did you get in them?

Take a moment, if you will, to look beyond the black water of the river: next to you, on your right, is a stone embankment, with a short ledging that extends only to a single flight of stairs. The wall is so high you cannot see above that.

Now, look behind you: there is one fabulous bridge, also of stone, arching above the water in a mesmerizing pirouette. Warm light spills from its sides and dances on the inky waters below.

Ahead of you is only more river and stone.

And then, on your right again, is screaming.

You had heard screams before, but none like this. This is bloody murder, save me screaming, the sort that makes you jump and run to its source without thinking first.

You climb out of the trembling boat, the sound of your footsteps scuffing against stone following you across the landing and up the steps.

Yet again you are stopped.

Rising above the embankment of the river as if ascending to heaven itself, reaching through the thin evening clouds and into the stars, are two magnificent bell towers.

Your steps slow, and then stop at the peak of the stairs to admire the body of the building, illuminated by street lamps and candlelight, blanketed in a fog of distant laughter.

You have never seen such an unearthly sight.

If not for the screaming, you could have spent days there.

But you are motivated once more to follow the strange sound, and, perhaps, find out where on earth you are.

Like a princess in a tower, the building is guarded by a rather impressive gate, not done in the style of the place itself, but sightly nonetheless. If it were not already left open and vulnerable by some obvious human error, you might not have found a way in.

The sound of your footsteps follows you across the stone, and you stop at the base of a staircase that would have led you to a set of inhuman wooden doors.

And... there is a goat.

A pretty, white little thing, with a bow around its neck.

it turns to you as you stop, and it makes that same screaming noise, and then bounds off around the corner of the building and into another, attached at its side.

"Wait," you say.

Though, your feet move before your mouth, your mouth before your mind, and you suddenly find yourself following this odd twist of a white rabbit.

The delicate thing leaps through an opening in the side, and you climb in after it, chasing it down open-air hallways that remind you all too much of an old monastery.

The goat bleats. "Wait!" you say. "Where is your owner?"

It bleats again, and it almost sounds like a laugh. How strange...

You tumble down corridors and halls, turn corners, ignoring the sound of laughter and cheering that is growing ever so close, and, all at once, you stumble out into the warm light of a party, crashing into something cold and metal. The goat disappears in the crowd.

Everything is silent.

You can see nothing but feet from where you fell, and a hundred hems of wine and blood red. Your clothes.

"Who is that?" someone asks.

"They weren't at orientation,"

"How could anyone be late? That's never happened,"

"They don't look like a student of Noble Bell..."

Student? So this is a school?

"You," a voice says, much colder and sharper than the others, like a winter breeze. "Get up."

You are in no place to disobey.

You stand, uneasily, and, much to your displeasure, every head in the crowd is turned towards you. Whispers dance amongst the students, glances are exchanged, looks ranging from confusion to disdain.

There is only one face you cannot see. At one distant end of the courtyard, there is a stage, dressed in reds and oranges, and on it, four actors. They are as still as the crowd, seemingly having abandoned their play in favor of the mysterious stranger.

The person in question, then, is actually below them, whispering something quite loudly, but you cannot make it out at this distance.

"Your name?"

You turn back to the wintry voice.

This man, you notice, is dressed differently from the others. He's in all black, from his boots to the cloak around him, even his hair, which flows around his shoulders, is as inky as the cold water of the river you had woken on.

"My name?" you ask.

He scoffs. "It is a simple request,"

"Shall we return to the mystery?" a weak, artificially high-pitched voice calls from the front of the crowd. "I'd like to see the mystery continue!"

"Quiet, Gregoire," the man in black snaps. "Now, who are you to come so late?"

"Late to what?"

A few murmurs ripple through the stillness of the crowd.

He sniffles, turning his nose up at you. "You do not know where you are?"

"No,"

Someone begins to whisper. "Do you think they're from-"

"Quiet!" he demands. "This is clearly not a student of any arcane academy I know of."

"They're wearing our robes!"

You look down at yourself. You'd almost forgotten about that.

The boy narrows his eyes. "How did you get here?"

"I don't know. I woke up on a boat,"

He sighs. "What part of the city are you from?"

"...The city?"

Another moment of whispers and stares. The crowd seems to have all but forgotten the play happening at the mouth of the courtyard.

The man in black puts his hands on his hips. "Yes. Now, what division are you from? The old university? The Ville?"

"I, um... none of those,"

"The outskirts, then?"

"No. What city is this?"

His brow furrows, and he crosses his arms. At the very least, he no longer seems angry. More... thoughtful.

"What country are you from?"

You tell him, and he huffs.

"There is no such place. None that I have heard of,"

The same voice from earlier returns. "Perhaps we should wait until after the mystery has concluded-"

"Gregoire!" the man in black snaps, "We know it's you! Quiet, for once in your life!"

"...Very well,"

He grumbles, massaging his temples, and then turns back to you. His eyes are as sharp and focused as his voice. They're dark, almost black, with the faintest gleam of red. He's wearing a lot of eyeliner, you think.

"Come with me. If you are telling the truth, then you will have nothing to fear,"

"There is no such place,"

"That's what I said!" the boy exclaims, swiping the atlas off the desk.

The headmaster of this school is old, much older than you are imagining now, thought perhaps it is not the fault of age, but of weariness.

"Control yourself, Monsieur de Neige," he says, looking longingly at the book whose pages are now scattered across the floor.

The boy grumbles, giving you a nasty side-eye.

"What will we do with them?"

"What else? They will stay here until we can find an answer. I will reach out to my colleagues at the other arcane academies and see if they have any council,"

"Stay here?" he snaps, standing from his chair with such force that it goes flying backward, narrowly missing you from where you're standing against the wall.

"They are not a student of Noble Bell. They are a stranger! Who knows what they might-"

"Now," the headmaster sighs. "I know we are a... private institution. But a long time ago, this building was a sanctuary for outcasts."

He grits his teeth. "I am not willing to risk the safety of the building or its students for an act of pity. You should know that I take my duties as vice president of the student council quite seriously-,"

The corner you'd been backed into was starting to feel tighter and tighter. If not for the conversation, you'd-

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the heavy wooden door of the office opening, but a sliver, and something white just outside.

Your eyes widen. You glance between M. de Neige and the headmaster, and, in the throes of their heated argument, you slip out into the dark hall.

"You," you say, putting your hands on your hips.

The little goat bleats. It doesn't seem very guilty.

"You led me there on purpose, didn't you? To create a diversion? What did you want?'

It stomps and scuffs its hooves against the stone floor, and with another little bleat, it turns around itself to show you something.

Your eyes soften.

There are two apples on the floor beneath it, both bruised and wrinkled, but good nonetheless.

"For me?"

You stoop forward and take one of the browning fruits off the cold, dirty ground, and slip it into one of the wide pockets of the robe. The goat chuffs, clearly pleased, and not even you can help but smile.

"Let's go, then, shall we? I want to get out of this place,"

The hallway is pitch black, the moonlight subdued by clouds and softened by the thick windows, but you can still make your way around quite easily.

You start heading in the direction you came, your new (and only) friend in tow, when the sound of footsteps scuffing against stone follows you.

You turn, eyes wide, expecting M. de Neige, or worse, but there's only a flash of gold and then quiet.

"Who's there? Come out, now, or... my goat will gouge you!"

The little animal stares at you, mouth hanging open in bewilderment, but it seems to work, anyway.

A boy, taller and thinner than M. de Neige, comes out from around the corner with his hands held up. Even in the dull silver light of the hall, you can make out the color of his eyes. Green. His hair is blond and reaches his chin, and is rather unkempt, curling and sticking out at odd places. His straight bangs are clearly cut by his own hand.

"My-my apologies. I did not mean to frighten you. I was only curious,"

You sigh. It's the voice from the orientation festival, the one M. de Neige called Gregoire.

"Well, don't be. We're leaving," you say. "Now... which way is out?"

"There are more than one, if you know where to look,"

You narrow your eyes at him and he goes pale.

"I-I only mean that there are many ways out into the streets, but you wouldn't want to be alone in the city after curfew,"

"I think I can handle it,"

"It's unsafe,"

"Is it?"

"Veritably,"

He doesn't seem to be lying, at least. You let your arms fall to your sides with a sigh.

"But I can't stay here. This feels like a prison,"

"It may," he nods. "It is stone walls all the same. But you don't have to stay here. The dorms are but a short walk away."

The goat bleats, and you agree. You're not sure whether you can trust this man or not, yet.

"What's your name?"

He seems to stand a little straighter, almost eager to talk about himself.

"I am the author Pierrot Gregoire, whose mystery was presented in the courtyard this evening,"

You seem to recall his voice again, his back turned to you in the crowd, as if he were infinitely more interested in his play than the commotion.

"I remember you," you say, sticking your hands in your pockets. You feel around the apple you'd put in there earlier. "Sorry I ruined it."

"The people were losing interest either way," he sighs and hangs his head. "My poor mystery..."

You glance at the little goat, and it chuffs back, nodding its head towards the end of the hall as if telling you to make a break for it while he's distracted.

You can't bring yourself to.

"Here," you say, handing him the shriveled apple. "We're even, then."

Pierrot's entire disposition changes; his face lights up with a childlike joy that makes it seem as if he'd completely forgotten about his woes, and he cups the apple in his palm with reverence.

"Oh... thank you," he says, finally. "I will take you to the dorms."

The evening had grown cold and windy since your spectacle in the courtyard.

The robes, at least, are warm enough to keep you comfortable, although you feel a pang of sympathy for the poor goat, who has only its fur, and, in a way, for Pierrot, whose robes look worn and beaten and strangely burnt.

"You can stay with me in the spare house," he says.

"You don't stay in a dorm?"

"My housewarden threw me to the streets months ago,"

He says it merrily, with that same smile, but there's an underlying sense of bitterness. You don't ask about it again.

Pierrot brings you to a small, dark building at the very edge of the island. Once again, you are surrounded by inky black water.

"Here," he hums, lighting a single candle as you walk in. "It's not much, but better than the sewers."

"You've slept in the sewers?"

He shudders. "I don't want to talk about it,"

Once an adequate amount of candles are lit, he pulls up a chest for you to sit on, and takes a seat on the floor across from you.

You sigh, letting out the stress and tension you'd been carrying in your chest in a single breath.

It felt much later than it truly was.

"That is a pretty creature of yours," he says, nodding at your goat. "Does it have a name?"

"Hugo," it says.

Both you and Pierrot go silent.

Then, finally, you shout.

"You can talk?!"

#noble bell college #<- for organization #noble bell #queued

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beescomet · 9 months ago

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V E L O C I T Y || Teaser

At the outskirts of Ninjago City, lies a town by the name of Akumanosu, forgotten by time. There, all forms of illegal activity seems to occure, ranging from burglary, to street racing, to drugs and trafficking. The mayor had demanded it to be closed off from the city, fearful that the evil it harbors will seep into the city, but unbeknownst to him, it already had.

There were very few rules in that land, but one stood out from the rest, unspoken and known by everyone. Is that you may never leave, at least, not alive.

But what happens when you do leave? Gathering enough money from street racing and escaping hell on earth.

Would you finally be able to leave your old life behind and live one of peace? Or would it catch up to you, dragging you back? It wouldn't be fun if the answer was right in front of you.

Especially because the Fates harbor a different plan for you, a prophecy intertwining your life with a group of Ninjas.

"All I wanted was a chance for a normal life! Apparently, that's too much to fucking ask"

⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

"And you are?"

"Y/N"

"Well, I'm Brookstone, Cole Brookstone"

"Are you seriously qouting James Bond?"

"Maybe, did you find it funny?"

⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

"I'm so tired of looking over my shoulder my whole life, I just want a normal life, one where I don't have to worry about being stabbed in the back"

"You don't have to do that anymore, I'll protect you, no matter what. I promise"

⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

"You think its easy trusting others?! It took me years to build up these walls Cole, walls that helped me survive this fucked up universe, they're not just going to come down overnight just because you asked."

"Relationships are supposed to be built on trust Y/N! And you don't trust me, you actively hide things from everyone, from me!"

"You dont get it, you never will."

"Try me, I love you Y/N and I want to help"

"No, cole. You don't love me. You view me as a fucked up damsel in distress in need of saving, you love the idea of fixing me. But you don't love me, if you did. We wouldn't be in this situation"

⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

"Y/N, please, please, stay with me Doll, fuck you're bleeding so much. look at me, don't close your eyes, keep your pretty eyes on me, gorgeous. I can't lose you. Anyone but you. I promised. I promised-!"

"..."

⋆｡ﾟ ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @crackedpumpkin for inspiring me to start writing this (ily). Literally read their stuff its so 💖��🩷💖🩷🫶🏼🫶🏼.

I'm excited to share this idea with everyone, but I wanted to give out a small warning that it may not be the best considering that the last time I wrote anything I was in highschool (for context, I'm a 3rd year college student now). So please be nice, I'm open to constructive criticism as long as it's respectful. The first chapter will (hopefully) be out soon. I hope you guys enjoy it. I don't want the A/N to be any longer, so imma end it here, enjoy the story, and have fun!! 🫶🏼

#cole brookstone x reader #ninjago x reader #lego ninjago #cole x reader #x reader #lego ninjago cole #cole ninjago #cole brookstone #ninjago #ninjago cole #lego ninjago x reader

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urstruly-ghst · 2 years ago

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pre-nrc deuce + goody-two-shoes! reader

note : i needed more deuce spade delinquent au. if u have some thoughts to share abt this au, ask em away!

cw : gn! reader (though might be femme on some ends), established relationship, fighting, delinquent deuce behavior such as : threats (not to u) and violence ++ controlling parents (mostly mom)

deuce spade

Your relationship with him was beyond fulfilling if one were to ask you about it, the way you found comfort in uncertainties with Deuce’s guiding hand– and also leaving a small boring routine of just sleeping, eating, and studying. You adored how he tried to bring you to life and give you something worth the experience.

That’s not to say that everything in your relationship with him was happy and smooth sailing. Sometimes, if not most, your lives constantly clash the wrong way. For instance, Deuce’s life of adrenaline before the prelims for the vast colleges that offered different students contrasts with your virtuous studying and worrying. You vaguely remember the angry words you slipped in as Deuce shouted, clearly angered and hurt.

Another bump was your parents. You’re the goody-two-shoes, the lovely sweet child they raised with high hopes you won’t meddle with your town’s messy parts. Admittedly, they all just wanted the best for their bright child, but it was clear that their fear and detestation extended to Deuce’s reputation. After all, why would they want their most shining star snuffed out by the bad boy who threatened people with his uniquely strong magic and fists?

It does get better, though. Deuce made sure of it. For you and him.

…

“What is with you bothering my child during this crucial exam, Spade?!” Your mother yelled at Deuce for the nth time; he got caught sneaking over the picket fences your family built on an exam night. While you would usually defend Deuce, you frowned and crossed your arms as you saw Deuce peek over.

“No offense, ma’am. But you say that to every exam yer baby takes, can’t I just steal ‘em and… get to spend time with them? It’s been over a week and–” Deuce started, voice clearly hoarse from running and probably yelling when he got caught.

“No, lad. Listen here. My baby is not like you. They’re doing all they can to get into that college, and I’ll be damned if you’re here leeching off them!” That shocked you, broke your heart when you saw Deuce falter, and you immediately huffed and told your mother off– this was far too much even for you. You adored your mother; you held her in high regard with how she withstood the shady town with a stern attitude. You remembered how she played her cool when a robber dug a knife into her old jeans, trying to scare the wits off her– she laughed and gave a penny. She was that strong.

But today, you saw her as a controlling woman. Not that you never saw her gorgeous veneer now, but her attitude with Deuce– the one you spent nearly two years together– made you realize her demeanor was both an asset and a burden.

“Don’t meddle with them, sweetheart. Your mother was more than right. This exam is worth more than that delinquent who beats boys up and gets into some naive girl’s pants.” You froze at his statement, hurt washed over your heart, and you prayed that Deuce didn’t hear that– his already shattered heart would crumble. Deuce was aware of your parent’s distaste for him; he fought tooth and nail to even sit at the dinner table with you.

“He isn’t like that, father! I am aware that all this boiled down to this exam, but you’ve known I studied well enough for the past week! And for the record, Deuce proved himself time and time again that he would never be disloyal or violent to me!”

“Oh, so violence is alright with you? You permit him to beat up some poor lad because, what, he failed to notice his glare?!”

“Don’t put words in my mouth! You know that wasn’t what I–”

Deuce suddenly stepped in, and his bleached locks immediately took over your vision. As hurtful as those words were, Deuce knew that your parent’s anger was justified and had a grain of truth to it. It stung for your lover’s inspiration won’t bother to acknowledge your step toward improvement, but he knew giving up meant giving up those two years with you– and Deuce would instead be buried alive than give you up. He’s yours, and you’re his.

“I know what the rumors said. I know myself better than you. I know me dating (Y/N) is not what you want. My reputation weighs heavy over theirs. But this thing– our thing– is a delicate balance that I so badly want to be stable. Watch me; I’ll change. I swear on my mother’s heart.”

---

bonus ! deuce spade nrc era!

Deuce did change. After that night, tears fell, and comforting words were exchanged– a fire lit inside both of you. You remembered the tight hug you gave Deuce when you opted to stay out of the house to ride with Deuce into your secret place. A beautiful large oak tree covered with couples' initials, but yours and Deuce’s were the only thing that mattered.

“Hi, babe.” Deuce awkwardly greeted you. A thing you noticed with him was how reduced to being shyer now in contrast with his confident and laidback demeanor a year ago. You giggled; you wondered where that spunk went. Deuce stared at you lovingly. He was so glad the holidays brought you back to him.

While it was difficult, being in different colleges and vastly different lives, you remained in touch and obviously still in love. The way he kissed you was still the same, and the way he stared at you was the same, but the way he smiled was different. He now smiled with the confidence that he could keep you.

Meeting in the middle, you both intertwined like puzzle pieces. You often wondered how it felt so right to be in the supposed tough-as-rocks Deuce, but maybe because it was the fact that he is Deuce Spade. A soft man turned tough by the pushes of the world around him, a fractured life of kitchen table bills and a competition to be the best in something never made things easier.

Good thing he can now patch up. With or without you, but he preferred it to be with you.

“Hello to you too, Mr. Juice.”

“That Ace!”

You shut his grumbling; a kiss was enough to shut him up. Or two. Maybe three–

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade

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hyperfixatedimagines · 2 years ago

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The Language of Girls

Anon requested: “.. the reader and alicent are in love but alicent starts find another girl “interesting” and the reader sees this and confronts her but it doesn’t go well and the reader leaves..”

A/N: Here it is. I bumped this up the queue because I got inspiration to write it. I apologize to others with older requests I really write as much as I can for all requests every day but sometimes the words flow for one idea a little easier. Anon, I hope this is what you had in mind and that if it’s not, you still enjoy it!

A/N pt. 2: It’s a modern au set at a private all girls boarding school. This is teenage Alicent x f!reader. Canon divergent in that Laenor and Laena are not twins. Laenor is older.

Your mother had sent you to private school in hopes your grades would better and your chances of getting into a good college would be higher.

Your father had demanded it be an all girls boarding school in hopes that you would make friends and finally come out of your shell.

All through elementary and junior high you were the outcast weirdo who no one bothered to get to know.

But now you had a chance to start anew. You hoped things would be different.

You walked to your bedroom on your own. Your parents had not bothered to go with you. Your father’s board meeting was too important and your mother simply could not miss her latest botox appointment.

Anxiety built inside you at the thought of who your roommate would be. You had never shared a room with anyone before.

What if we don’t get along? What if she’s a cool, popular, pretty girl and thinks I’m a weirdo? What if she hates me and makes my life hell? Questions swirled in your mind, a tornado starting to form.

You took a deep breath and turned the knob. You opened the door and stepped inside.

“Hello?”

A girl with silver locs came out of the bathroom your room shared with the room next door.

She smiled brightly at the sight of you.

“Hi, you must (y/n). I’m Laena,” she said and stuck her hand out towards you.

You shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

All your worst fears were confirmed. Laena was indeed beautiful, and no doubt she was cool. She would surely be the most popular girl at school.

You were toast.

To your great surprise, Laena was nothing like you had feared.

Yes she was cool, and was indeed very popular, but she was also the kindest person you had ever met.

She had helped you unpack your things and get you settled. Then she gave you a tour of the campus and introduced you to all her friends. She even invited you to have lunch with them all.

The other girls were nice as well, though they had all looked you up and down with a less than impressed look on their faces.

But it didn’t matter. Laena shone like the sun and made sure all her warmth radiated onto you.

At lunch, she sat next to you and naturally her friends followed.

They all chatted about various teachers and students that you had no face to connect to. So you ate your food quietly while they all spoke.

“Where is Alicent,” Laena asked one of the other girls.

“She was on a call with her father when we last saw her. I’m guessing it did not go well,” a girl that had been introduced to you as Aliandra declared as she gave herself a once over in a compact mirror.

Laena frowned. “That explains it.”

Then she turned to you.

“Alicent is one of my closest friends. You’ll love her, she’s darling....but she has a complicated relationship with her father,” Laena explained.

You nodded slowly. “I can relate to that. My relationship with my parents is complicated too.”

Oh no, had you shared too much too soon? You cursed yourself silently.

Once again, Laena surprised you.

She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Thank you for sharing that with me (y/n). I know it’s not an easy thing to do.”

Then she turned back to the other girls and told them all about her elder brother Laenor’s exploits with college boys in the city.

You listened, and laughed when appropriate.

For the first time in a long time you felt hopeful. Maybe things really would be different at this school.

Laena invited you to a party one of the girl’s on a different floor was having. She was an upperclassman who had a whole suite to herself. Laena said she had even invited the boys from the nearby all boys private school.

You pretended to be excited.

Laena had been nothing but kind, and she had shared that her brother was gay and didn’t seem to have any issue with it...but you were too scared to tell her that you were into girls.

It seemed too soon.

So you pretended to be excited about the private school boys.

Laena finished getting ready before you. She asked if you wanted her to wait but you had no idea what you were going to wear and didn’t want her to wait long. So you told her you would meet her there.

To her credit, Laena asked if you were sure.

You said you were. So she waved and said she would see you there.

You spent way too long thinking about an outfit to wear. Everything you put on seemed to look wrong. Nothing you had felt cute enough for a party.

In truth, you had never been to party so you didn’t even know what you were supposed to look like.

So you settled on something you felt comfortable in that wasn’t shabby.

You regretted not asking Laena to wait for you when you realized you had gotten lost trying to find the right suite.

Frustrated, you walked into one of the communal bathrooms on the second floor of the dormitories.

You froze in the doorway.

Cries emanated from one of the stalls.

You weren’t sure if you should say something or if it was maybe kinder to leave and let whoever it was cry in peace.

Unfortunately for you the girl emerged from the stall, tears still staining her cheeks, and immediately noticed you.

Her face scrunched up in disgust. “Who are you?”

“I’m....new,” you replied, you felt your face warm under her gaze.

“Well don’t linger in the doorway like an idiot. Come inside,” she demanded.

You stepped inside but didn’t go any closer. She furrowed her brow.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just…are you alright,” you asked even though you knew exactly what type of girl you had just met was and you would surely regret asking.

“I’m fine.” She crossed the distance between you and backed you up against the door. “I don’t know what you think you heard but it was nothing worth sharing. Do you understand?”

You nodded.

The girl exhaled. “Good,” she said then returned to the sinks. She touched up her appearance in the mirror.

You didn’t linger. Having had enough of the mean girl who had obviously been crying in the bathroom stall, you turned around and left the bathroom.

Laena walked down the hall towards you. She lit up when she saw you.

“(y/n)! There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said as she got closer.

You blushed. “I’m sorry. I got a bit lost.”

Laena waved her hand. “Forget about it. Let’s get to the party. The boys from the Citdel are even cuter than we thought they’d be.”

She wrapped her arm around yours and started to lead you down the hall when the door of the bathroom swung open.

Both you and Laena turned around.

Laena let go of your arm when the mean girl walked out.

“Alicent, we’ve been looking for you all day.”

She ran to the girl and gave her a hug.

To your suprise, the girl hugged Laena back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for anyone to worry.”

When they pulled away from one another Laena kept her arms on the girl’s shoulders.

“How could we not worry? Are you feeling up to the party tonight? If not we can all go back to my room, watch a couple movies and pig out on my special snack stash?”

The girl shook her head. “No, I know everyone was looking forward to meeting boys from the Citadel tonight. I don’t want to ruin anyones fun.”

Laena gave the girl’s shoulders a squeeze. “You could never ruin anything.”

The girl brought down Laena’s hands from her shoulders.

“It’s okay Laena, really. I’m up for the party.”

Laena sighed. “If you’re sure?”

The girl nodded. “Of course.”

With that Laena laced her fingers with the girl’s and turned towards (y/n). Laena locked eyes with (y/n) and stopped. She playfully hit herself in the head with the palm of her hand.

“Where are my manners?”

She turned to the girl next to her.

“Alicent this is (y/n). She’s my new roommate.”

Then Laena turned to you.

“(y/n) this is Alicent, my best friend.”

You and Alicent locked eyes.

Alicent blushed and looked away. At least she had the good sense to feel embarrassed by what she had said to you.

You smiled at her. “It’s nice to meet you Alicent.”

She nodded. “Sure.”

Then she let go of Laena’s hand and marched down the hall towards the party.

Laena turned to you.

“Did something happen?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Laena frowned, the first time you had seen her make such an expression.

“Don’t worry. Alicent is actually very sweet.”

“I’m sure she is,” you replied.

Laena walked you to the suite where the party was already in full swing. You swallowed hard. Laena noticed.

“Is this your first party?”

You nodded.

Laena perked up and looped her arm around yours.

“Do not worry (y/n). I will make sure your first party is a wonderful memory.”

“That’s sweet of you Laena.” You smiled and felt your anxiety lessen. Laena would take care of you.

“First step, shots!” She shouted and dragged you to the drinks table.

Years of peer pressure school assemblies did not prepare you for the shots of cheap liquor and the cups of mysterious “punch” you drank that night.

But it didn’t matter because, true to her word, Laena had not left your side and made sure you laughed all night.

Though her company did little to distract you from the way Alicent’s gaze lingered on you throughout the night. Her eyes on you made you nervous but also kind of...excited.

The morning after your first party was a lot less fun. Your brain pounded inside your skull, making every moment your eyes were open a painful experience.

Laena, ever the steadfast friend, brought painkillers and water over to your bedside.

“You had quite the night,” she teased.

You did your best to smile. “Is every night like that?”

Laena let out a small laugh. “I wish. Sadly, we are a good group of girls most of the time.”

She promised to stay with you until you felt better but she had forgotten her tennis team met early in the morning for practice.

“Don’t worry (y/n). I won’t leave you alone. Your first hangover can be really rough and I don’t want you to go through it by yourself.”

You sat up in bed. “It’s alright Laena. I’ll be okay. Thankfully, classes don’t start for me until tomorrow.”

Laena shook her head. “I won’t hear of it. Let me see who I can wrangle.”

Then she raced out of the room and down the hall.

Minutes later she returned with the last person you wanted to share a morning with.

Alicent.

She and Laena walked into the room. Laena turned to you with a smile.

“Alicent has kindly agreed to nurse you to health.”

She didn’t even look at you. Instead, she looked at Laena with a tight smile. You got the feeling she was doing this more for Laena’s sake than yours.

“That’s not necessary Laena it’s okay really,” you implored.

“I told you I’ll have none of that. This will be a great time to get to know one another,” Laena proclaimed as she grabbed her sports bag.

She turned to Alicent.

“Be sure she stays hydrated. I think we have gatorade in the mini but if not make sure to pop out and grab some, yeah?”

Alicent nodded.

“Of course Laena.”

Then Laena turned back to you. She kissed your cheek before dashing out the door.

“Feel better roomie!”

“Bye Laena,” you called out.

The door closed behind her with a thud and an uncomfortable silence descended on the once bright room.

You cleared your throat and looked towards Alicent.

“You don’t have to stay. I can tell her you did but you can go.”

Alicent finally met your gaze. Her rich brown eyes bore into your own.

“Don’t be stupid. Laena would know if you were lying.”

The anxiety from being around Alicent almost made you forget the pounding in your skull. You brought your hand up to your forehead and closed your eyes.

“Are you alright?” She asked, her voice surprisingly soft.

You nodded. “Yeah I just have this massive headache.”

The ache subsided and you were able to open your eyes.

Alicent stood by your side, looking down at you with concern. “Did you already take some painkillers?”

“Laena gave me some,” you said, uneasy at her drastic change towards you.

She nodded. “Good. Have you eaten?”

You shook your head. “I woke up a few minutes ago.”

“Do you have any food allergies?”

You shook your head again. “Not that I know of.”

Alicent walked out of your dorm room without another word.

You were unsure what prompted the change of heart but you wouldn’t question it. The ache returned and you covered your head with your duvet, seeking relief from the bright light of the sun streaming through your blinds.

“Did you really fall asleep again,” came an annoyed voice from above your sheets.

You popped your head out to see Alicent frowning by the doorway.

“You came back?”

Alicent closed the door behind her. She rolled her eyes.

“You’re so dramatic. I said I was going to get you some food.”

You furrowed your brows. “No you didn’t. You just asked if I had eaten and if I had food allergies.”

“And what do those questions imply?” She asked as she set down the bag she was carrying on the desk beside your bed.

“Well...I didn’t- I mean you’re,” you stuttered.

Alicent unpacked the bag. She had brought various cut up fruit in a bowl, oatmeal, and a breakfast sandwich along with a cup of something hot as the steam rose from the small opening on the lid.

“Is all that for me?”

She nodded. “Obviously.” Then she grabbed the cup and handed it to you. “This is ginger tea. It helps a lot with a hangover.”

You sat up in bed and took the cup from her. “Thank you.”

“Whatever. I promised Laena so,” she said and trailed off, not meeting your gaze.

Your stomach grumbled. You let out a small laugh. “Guess you were right to bring some food.”

To your surprise, Alicent smiled.

It was gone as soon as it came but Alicent’s smile was so lovely you decided to get her to smile again just to see it.

“Make sure to eat up, it’ll make you feel better,” she said and moved all the food closer to your reach.

“Thank you Alicent. You didn’t have to do this but you did.”

Alicent shrugged. “It’s nothing,” she insisted.

You grabbed the breakfast sandwich and took a bite. Instantly you felt better. You took another bite and let out a small moan.

When you realized what sound you had made your eyes shot open and you turned to Alicent, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

She had.

Alicent laughed, actually laughed, and you decided her laugh was even more lovely than her smile.

It wasn’t a cruel laugh but more so an empathetic one.

You blushed. “Sorry about that,” you said after you swallowed your food.

“It’s okay. Laena has worse hangover stories about me.” She handed you a napkin.

“Thank you,” you said and took it.

“Like I said, it’s nothing. I’ll be here all morning if you need anything.”

Alicent climbed onto Laena’s bed that was opposite yours and scooted all the way back until she rest against the wall. She took out her phone from her cardigan pocket and started to scroll.

It was silent but no longer uncomfortably so. You ate your food and drank your tea in peace while Alicent tapped away on her phone. Occasionally she would look up and check in on you. Sometimes she even got up and checked that you didn’t feel too hot or too cold.

Every time the back of her hand touched your forehead your whole body flooded with an overwhelming heat. You feared she would notice but she never did.

Instead she’d go back to Laena’s bed and continue to scroll on her phone.

When you finished all the food she had brought up, at her insistence that you eat a little bit of everything, you let your head rest against your headboard and closed your eyes. The throbbing in your head had stopped some time ago and no nausea had overtaken you. You felt like you were in the clear....

Until suddenly you ran to your bathroom and knelt down on the floor in front of the toilet.

Alicent raced to your side and made sure your hair was out of your face. “Yikes,” she whispered.

Once you were done puking you rinsed your mouth and cleaned up your face. Alicent stood by the door of the bathroom and watched you.

“Maybe I brought too much food.”

You smiled. “Maybe.”

Alicent laughed and this time you joined her. You met her gaze and felt butterflies fill your chest.

Oh no, you thought.

Weeks past and your friendship with Alicent grew.

You got to see the side of Alicent that Laena had spoken about, and the more time you spent by Alicent’s side the more time with her you craved.

She had consumed you.

But you would not jeopardize the friendships you had made. Finally, you had a group of girls you could call friends. Well, Laena and Alicent were your friends. Aliandra and the rest of them were more acquaintances as you rarely ever saw them unless you were with Alicent or Laena but still, you had people who knew your name.

Your parents were glad to hear that you had adjusted to life there and that you had found friends. Your mom even pointed out the way you glowed whenever you spoke to them about Alicent. You made sure to tell them Alicent was simply your friend.

And you didn’t mind it. If her friend was all you could be that was good enough for you.

Having Alicent as a friend was better than not having Alicent at all.

She had a way of making you feel like the only person in the room, even when you were surrounded by the other girls. She would make sure to always pay attention whenever you spoke and would hush the rest of the group if they weren’t listening.

Alicent made you feel more than welcomed, she made you feel special.

You quickly learned that Alicent did so as a way to make up for the way she was treated at home.

It didn’t take long before her father contacted her again and Alicent’s mood shifted back to that mean girl you had first met.

But you learned that patience and silent support was what Alicent needed after speaking with her father. Alicent was thankful that she had you, and that you understood exactly what she needed.

Soon a routine had formed for you and Alicent. Every day after dinner the two of you would sneak onto the roof of the dormitories and look at the stars.

Alicent had a secret fascination with astronomy. She even had her own telescope. She loved pointing out the various constellations to you, and you loved the way she lit up whenever she spoke about something she was passionate about.

One time, Alicent caught you staring.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” she asked you with small smirk on her face.

“I uhm- I just...well I-,” you sputtered, unable to think of a lie quick enough.

Alicent laughed and shook her head. “You’re so weird (y/n).”

You smiled. “I know.”

She returned your smile and reached out for your hand. You let her, and she laced her fingers with yours.

“I like that,” she confessed.

You squeezed her hand. “Good.”

Alicent let out another laugh before she returned her attention to the stars.

Months into the fall semester, you received devastating news.

Laena’s parents planned to move her to another school. They were moving to another country for business and didn’t like the idea of Laena being alone.

So the girls all spent Laena’s final night together.

Alicent was a mess of tears. You held her the entire time, your arm wrapped around her waist. Alicent rest her head on your shoulder.

“You can’t leave Laena. You’re my oldest friend,” Alicent pleaded.

Laena had shed her fair share of tears since she had received word from her parents. She needed to finish packing.

“I know Ali. I’m sorry. If I could stay you know I would.”

Alicent nodded. “I know. I’ll just miss you so much.”

Laena walked to where the two of your sat, on the edge of your bed, and held both your hands.

“I’ll still keep in contact. Besides, you have each other now.”

Alicent lifted her head from your shoulder and met your gaze. She smiled softly.

“That’s true,” she whispered.

You returned Alicent’s smile and nodded. Sometimes you didn’t trust yourself to speak when she was so close.

Laena looked between the two of you then smiled knowingly. She returned to her things and hours later she finished packing.

Then it was time for fun.

The three of you ate all the sweets and snacks Laena had hid from the prefects on your floor. Then you had a quick bit of karaoke as it was Laena’s favorite group activity.

Finally you all curled up on Laena’s bed, it was slightly wider than yours, and promised to never stop being friends.

Before Alicent left back to her room Laena made you both promise to welcome her cousin Rhaenyra who was scheduled to start in the spring semester.

You promised.

Any family member of Laena’s had to be as sweet. She had welcomed you with open arms and you would surely do the same. Alicent was more relucant to promise but she did.

The next morning you helped Laena bring her things down to where her parents were waiting for her.

Her father loaded all of Laena’s things into the car.

Laena gave you a big hug before she held you by the shoulders and stared into your eyes.

“Before I leave I need to tell you something.”

“Is everything okay? Did you forget something?” You asked and turned your head back towards the dorms.

Laena nodded and brought your attention back to her. “I have everything. I just think you should know that Alicent likes girls.”

You furrowed your brows. “What?”

“Alicent is a lesbian.” Laena gave your shoulders a quick squeeze. “So don’t be afraid to go after her okay?”

“What? Why would you- I mean I don’t even,” you rambled.

Laena laughed. “(y/n), I knew from the second I saw you that you weren’t straight. I’m like a gay people magnet it’s crazy.”

You exhaled. “Sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want things to be weird between us.”

“It’s okay. I know things like this aren’t easy. For the record, nothing will ever change between us because you like girls (y/n).” Laena gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Now go get your girl.”

Laena let go of your shoulders and got into her parent’s car. She rolled the window down and waved to you as they pulled away.

You waved back with a bittersweet smile on your face. You would miss Laena...but the bombshell she dropped on you before leaving had your mind reeling.

Things hadn’t changed much since Laena’s departure. You didn’t talk to the other girls as often anymore but you and Alicent were closer than ever.

The two of you were practically glued to each other’s side.

That night you prepared everything for the movie night you and Alicent had planned. She really wanted to see the new horror movie on her favorite streaming site so you offered to watch it with her.

Alicent arrived right on time, with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn in her arms.

“Are you ready to watch the scariest movie you’ve ever seen?” She asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You laughed. “I doubt it will be that scary.”

Alicent walked into the room and set the bowl of popcorn on your bedside table. Then she turned back to you.

“You said that about the last movie we watched and then you made me sleep in Laena’s old bed for two weeks because you were convinced an evil demon was under your bed.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. I still Aliandra totally cursed the room after that fight we had.”

Alicent shook her head. “You’re so weird.”

You walked up to her and playfully shoved her with your shoulder. “You know you love it.”

Alicent laughed. “Ugh, for some ungodly reason I do.”

Then the two of you settled side by side in your bed. Alicent grabbed your arm and wrapped it around her waist. She always claimed it was more comfortable that way and you never argued.

You hit play and within two minutes regretted saying yes to watching it. Alicent would be sleeping in Laena’s bed again for the next several days.

As a thank you for spending the night in your room for weeks after you got scared, just as she had predicated, you planned a special picnic for Alicent.

It was on the date of the pink super moon. It had been the only thing Alicent talked about for the past week.

So when night fell, you led Alicent up to the roof and revealed the extensive spread of charcuterie and foreign snacks Alicent loved.

Alicent beamed. “You did this? For me?”

“Of course. I wanted to thank you for staying with me every night after we watched that movie,” you confessed sheepishly.

“You didn’t have to do this (y/n).”

You led Alicent to the picnic blanket and sat opposite her. Alicent sat and immediately grabbed her favorite snack. You smiled as she dipped the vanilla wafers into the chocolate frosting.

She let out a small moan as she ate. You laughed, happy that your plan had worked.

After the two of you had filled your bellies with food and sparkling cider, you sat shoulder to shoulder.

Alicent stared up at the pink super moon while you gazed at her. Neither of you spoke, and you didn’t have to.

“You’re staring at me,” Alicent said before tearing her eyes away from the moon.

You looked away and blushed. “I am not.”

“You totally were, you weirdo,” Alicent teased.

You met her gaze. “And if I was staring?”

“I would ask why,” she replied while looking down at your lips.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Laena’s words rang in your ears. It was now or never, you thought.

Alicent looked back up at you. “You do?”

You nodded. “You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Alicent smiled then leaned in close. You closed the gap between the two of you and pressed your lips to hers.

Her lips felt soft, and tasted of cider.

Alicent climbed into your lap without breaking the kiss. She cupped your face and kept you close. Your hands settled on her lower back.

You kissed until your lungs begged you for air. Even then you only pulled away long enough to catch your breath before kissing Alicent once more.

Winter break felt like ages. You had been apart from your girlfriend for too long and you needed the feel of her lips against yours.

So the second your car pulled up to the dorms you raced out and headed directly to Alicent’s room.

She had sent you a text that she had arrived a few hours early.

You barged into her room and immediately wrapped your arms around her.

Alicent laughed as you peppered kissed to the back and sides of her neck.

“I missed you too (y/n),” she said.

You stopped kissing her and let go. Alicent turned to face you and she gave you a proper kiss.

“Welcome back,” she whispered when she pulled away.

“It’s good to be home,” you replied.

Alicent immediately enlisted your help with unpacking her things and setting up her room for the spring semester. Alicent liked to have a new theme to her room every semester.

After you had helped Alicent set up her room you went to yours. Your driver had texted you that he had brought everything up so all you had to do was unpack.

You opened the door and felt a sense of deja vu as silver hair popped out from the bathroom.

“You must be (y/n),” the silver haired girl said.

She came up to you and wrapped you in a hug.

“And you must be Rhaenyra,” you replied.

Rhaenyra let go of you and nodded.

“Laena has said nothing but great things about you.”

You smiled sheepishly. “I would hope so.”

Rhaenyra laughed and began to ask you all about the school, the girls, and the classes.

You gave Rhaenyra a tour much like the one Laena had given you the previous semester. Then you introduced her to all of the girls. Rhaenyra and the girls clicked instantly.

A part of you was a bit jealous they had gotten along so easily when it had taken you a few weeks before they really warmed up to you.

But she was Laena’s cousin. You knew she had to be as sweet as Laena, and so far she had been. So nothing could bring you down.

After introductions you and Rhaenyra walked back to your dorm. You hoped to introduce her to Alicent but you could not find her. So that would just have to wait until lunch.

At lunch, you and Rhaenyra sat with the whole gaggle of girls. They asked Rhaenyra all about how Laena was doing, and they wanted to know more about her. From the answers Rhaenyra gave them you deduced she was not really all that much like Laena.

Rhaenyra rode a motorcycle (she was two years your senior but had been held back a year due to a learning disability she had that wasn’t diagnosed until later in her life), and she liked to play rugby.

Everyone thought Rhaenyra was the coolest and they declared her the coolest girl in school right then and there.

You laughed along but a part of you felt like something was about to shift.

Alicent walked up to the table where you all sat.

You smiled. “Hey, I was looking for you all morning.”

Alicent didn’t reply. Her gaze was completely on Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra stretched her hand out to Alicent and introduced herself.

“Laena mentioned you would be joining us,” Alicent replied and shook Rhaenyra’s hand.

“Sadly, she didn’t mention just how beautiful you are so I’m left completely speechless,” Rhaenyra replied. She turned Alicent’s hand over and kissed the top of it. “A pleasure to meet you Alicent.”

Alicent raised her brows. “Oh,” was all she said.

Thankfully, Rhaenyra’s attention shifted to Aliandra and a bet that she had made with one of the other girls about how much Rhaenyra could bench press.

You stared at Alicent, growing upset at her response to Rhaenyra’s obvious flirting.

Alicent would not meet your gaze, which only made you more upset.

Back in your dorm room you clarified to Rhaenyra that Alicent was your girlfriend.

Rhaenyra apologized for flirting with Alicent and promised she would respect your relationship.

You had no reason to doubt her so you didn’t. You took Rhaenyra to the welcome back party in one of the senior’s suites.

It was not Rhaenrya’s first party.

The social butterfly she was, Rhaenyra flitted from person to person. She was the center of attention when she challenged one of the Citadel boys to a drinking contest.

Everyone cheered when she won.

You felt rather inferior to Rhaenyra. Especially since all of the girls who had been your friends now clung to Rhaenyra’s side.

So you left the party and went to Alicent’s room.

Alicent didn’t want to go to the party as she was supposed to have a call from her father after dinner and knew she would be in no mood.

You knocked on the door and heard Alicent tell you to enter. So you opened the door and walked inside.

Alicent sat by the window, frowning.

“Are you alright?”

“No,” Alicent confessed. “I just got off the phone with my dad.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay, what can I do?”

“Hold me,” Alicent asked, her voice breaking.

Immediately you went to her side and wrapped her up in your arms.

Things had taken a turn in your relationship with Alicent.

It turned out she had a class with Rhaenyra, and they started to spend a lot of time studying by themselves.

You often asked to join as you had chemistry this semester and science was your worst subject but they insisted it was best to study on their own.

You had no reason to doubt Alicent or Rhaenyra so you believed them.

But suspicion soon crept up your spine.

Rhaenyra rarely spent time in your dorm room. She really only used it to sleep and bathe.

You didn’t know where she went the rest of the time and you were scared it was Alicent’s room.

So one day when Alicent had told you she was busy studying in the library you went to her room.

You noticed photo booth pictures of Alicent and Rhaenyra sitting on Alicent’s desk.

You picked them up.

One of them had Alicent and Rhaenyra a little too close for comfort. Your stomach twisted.

They had lied to you. Clearly they did not spend all their time studying. They just didn’t want to include you, and you had a sneaking suspicion why.

Every date you planned with Alicent ended with her canceling it. Something always came up or she simply was too tired from studying to do anything.

You tried to visit Alicent in her dorm room but she was hardly ever there either. You searched the rooftop and only found her telescope covered in cobwebs, yet another sign of how much time had passed since the two of you had gone up there.

She also had developed a habit of leaving you on read, or sending your calls straight to voicemail.

“She’s totally hooking up with Rhaenyra. How do you not see that,” Aliandra asked you.

You sighed. “I don’t want to assume the worst of Ali.”

Aliandra shook her head. “You’re a sweet girl (y/n). You need to end things for your own sake.”

Then she grabbed her books and left. You sat alone in the library, hoping to see a glimpse of your girlfriend.

Was she still your girlfriend? You didn’t even know.

In a last ditch effort to save your relationship, you set up a movie night with Alicent.

You knew the sequel to her favorite horror movie was going to drop on streaming sites that night at midnight and that was not something Alicent would miss.

She promised to not cancel this time, and that filled you with hope. Maybe this was just a rough patch.

The night of the premiere arrived and you finished setting up everything in your room. You popped a fresh bag of popcorn and readied Alicent’s favorite snacks.

Then you sat on your bed and waited.

You ended up waiting hours.

You sent texts and calls to no avail. Alicent was not answering and it was past midnight.

Frustrated and angry you marched to Alicent’s room. How could she leave you hanging like that?

You knocked on her door.

“Alicent? Alicent open the door,” you called out.

No answer came. So you knocked again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

So you walked back to your room in defeat.

As you made your way to your room you passed by the large window that overlooked the lot where everyone pulled up to drop people off.

There Rhaenyra pulled in on her motorcycle, Syrax, and came to a stop. You stepped closer to the window and realized Rhaenyra was not alone.

Your heart sank.

It was Alicent. She had her arms wrapped around Rhaenyra’s waist.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You turned away from the window and raced to your room.

You buried your face in your pillows and let the tears flow. You had lost her.

Alicent had ghosted you.

How she had successfully managed that at a small, private, boarding school was beyond you but it was probably due to the fact that you did not like confrontation.

You had accepted the truth.

Rhaenyra had stolen your girlfriend.

She was nothing like Laena.

Thankfully Rhaenyra had not charmed everyone. Aliandra didn’t hate Rhaenyra but she was certainly more skeptical of the silver haired girl.

So you were able to switch rooms and be roommates with Aliandra pretty quickly after you realized the truth.

Aliandra welcomed you to her room but warned she was quite messy. She was very messy indeed but you would deal with it because you never wanted to see Rhaenyra or Alicent ever again.

But you did.

The campus was not very large and you often saw them arm in arm walking about the courtyard.

It hurt every time, and you would always end up crying into your pillow.

Weeks later, after countless tears and ruined silk pillowcases, you had finally moved on from Alicent (or so you had deluded yourself).

You had even managed to make new friends.

Things were starting to look up.

Then you saw Alicent’s father walk across the quad. You had only seen him in photos but he was a very distinct man so you knew that was him immediately.

You intended to think nothing of it and walk straight to chemistry class but your feet led you to Alicent’s door.

You sighed. You had moved on. What on Earth were you doing outside Alicent’s door?

“What are you doing here,” came a familiar voice behind you.

You whirled around to see Alicent standing behind you, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

Your heart softened.

“I...I saw your Dad in the quad.”

At the mention of her father fresh tears filled Alicent’s eyes. She pushed past you and into her room.

You followed her and shut the door behind you.

“I wanted to check in on you. To see if you were alright. I know how your dad can be.”

Alicent let out a hollow laugh. “Why do you even care?”

“Unlike you, I have compassion and empathy.”

Alicent turned to face you. “That’s fair.”

She wrapped her arms around herself.

You sighed. “I’m sorry that wasn’t cool. I just...” You shook your head. “Just forget I even came here. I’m sorry.”

You turned to leave but Alicent raced forward and grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t go.”

You closed your eyes. “I can’t stay Alicent.”

You felt her arms wrap around you from behind. She let her forehead rest against the back of your shoulder.

“I’m sorry (y/n). I’m so sorry for how I treated you. It was childish and heartless. Just please...don’t leave.” Alicent sighed. “He was especially cruel today.”

Hearing the pain in her voice weakened your resolve. You opened your eyes and sighed.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Alicent let go of you and you turned to face her. She cupped your face with her hand and ran her thumb across your cheek.

“Thank you.”

The two of you climbed into Alicent’s bed, as you had many times before, and she wrapped your arm around her waist. She let her head rest on your shoulder.

Silence enveloped the room.

Like before, it was not uncomfortable silence even though so much had changed between you.

“I want us to be friends (y/n). I miss you,” Alicent whispered.

You winced. It hurt to hear she missed you but only wanted to be friends.

“I can’t,” you admitted. “I’m still in love with you.”

Alicent lifted her head and met your gaze. “I’m sorry I can’t love you the way you deserve (y/n).”

Tears filled your eyes. “It’s okay.”

A tear fell down the side of your cheek and Alicent gently wiped it away. You swallowed the rest of your tears.

Alicent let her head rest of your shoulder once more. She laced her fingers with your free hand.

You couldn’t change the way things were but you could stay there, with Alicent, comforting her after her father had upset her in the way he always did.

She was no longer yours but you would always be the one she sought whenever she needed comfort. You were the only one who truly knew her, and she knew you would comfort her each and every time.

So during summer break you asked your parents to send you back to public school. You couldn’t be Alicent’s comfort anymore, not when she was the source of your heartache.

#alicent higtower imagine #alicent hightower x reader #alicent hightower #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon reader insert

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ladyodaskonpeito · 1 year ago

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Day 3: Missed Chances

Fandom: Free!

Pairing: Yamazaki Sousuke x Tachibana Makoto

Wordcount: 716

Day 1 | Day 2

Even as years passed, Makoto couldn’t help but think of how he met Sousuke on that rainy morning whenever September would roll around again. He’d also always thought about what could have been and wondered what happened to Sousuke—a lot of changes must have taken place with the time that went by. Maybe his injury healed. Maybe he completed his residency. Maybe he left the country. Maybe he forgot about the nursing student he met at Yowa Hospital.

Makoto, on the other hand, never forgot about him. He never could; Sousuke was one of the first people he had built rapport with as a nurse. As a result, he never thought of him as only a patient he’d helped. He wondered if he was just a nurse to Sousuke, though. He honestly wished he remembered him as something more and thought about him sometimes. Maybe even wondered about his current circumstances and whereabouts like Makoto would with him. But that was where Makoto was conflicted: he would hate for Sousuke to learn the reality of what had been going on in his life.

In reality, there was a lot of not much going on. Makoto had missed out on a lot since he dedicated himself to his job and committed to gaining recognition for his services in Tottori University Hospital’s nursing team. He had remained single all this while, and it was only partly due to his career ambitions to rise up the ranks to become a nursing manager. Maybe, somewhere in the back of his mind, he had held onto the hope of seeing Sousuke again—a man who happened to have everything he wanted in a partner.

Maturity. Dependability. Consideration. He sometimes wished he had never known more about Sousuke than what meets the eye; the height, the voice and those eyes would have been enough. Now he was stuck on the idea of having someone that just seemed too good to be true.

Too good for him, at least.

So when Sousuke finally appeared in his life again, Makoto was too stunned to properly react.

Why would Sousuke remember him, right? Makoto was only a student nurse back then, helping out in a couple of his many weeks of therapy sessions. Makoto didn’t even dare to probe about his injury at the time, for fear of being seen as a busybody. Strictly speaking, they were never friends.

So when Sousuke introduced himself in TUH as Dr Yamazaki, the new gastroenterology fellow, Makoto greeted him like it was their first time seeing each other. That would be the first of many missed chances he had to acknowledge his recognition of Sousuke from his time in nursing college.

It only became increasingly difficult to breach the topic from then on.

After all, what would he say?

Do you remember that student who was briefly there for your PT almost seven years ago? Hi, I’m that guy. Fancy seeing you here at TUH!

Yeah, no. He’d cringe just imagining that. While he was glad—over the moon, actually—to meet Sousuke again, he struggled to bring up their history, seeing as any attempts he had made to reach out were simply… not taken any notice of.

Katsumi-san had very kindly given him the phone number, saying that Sousuke had authorised him to do so. At that moment he had hope fired up in him: Sousuke had wanted to be friends! With time, could they develop into something… more?

At first, it was a courteous but casual text, saying hello and notifying Sousuke that he was stationed at the psychiatric ward now. No reply came.

Then, Makoto had let him know that he ended his time as a student nurse at the hospital and would be proceeding with his prep for the National Nursing Examination. That received no response either.

Finally, Makoto informed Sousuke that he had successfully gotten his nursing license. That was when his hope truly died, because he’d thought a congratulatory message would be anyone’s reply. Instead, all he got was radio silence.

Yeah, they were never friends. That thought would cause Makoto to have this constricting feeling in his chest, so he never liked to think about it for long.

It was a shame, but the past was supposed to be left in the past, anyway.

To be continued on Day 4

#free! anime #soumako week #soumako #tachibana makoto #yamazaki sousuke #my writing

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the-fandom-hero · 7 months ago

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Tumblr, how do I boop? (Beyond here is more of my Au: Twisted AU! Just some character stuff I came up with, designs, and a new guy ^^)

Anyway, I did quite a bit for the Twisted Au! They all have names now and I might start writing some on here!

(1: Luck, T!Chase)

(2: Austin, T!Anti)

(3: Loki, T!Henrik)

(4: Xai, T!Jackie)

(5: Luci, T!Marvin)

(6: Riley, T!Jackson)

Added with the 6 above is a new one! I wanted to put all my changes into one post/wait till I have enough changes so I'm not making one post over a little change!

His name is Tavin!!

Tavin also has a pet frog, I haven't done him yet.

Splooch is a pet slime that Tavin found one day, he scooped them up and Splooch hopped onto Tavin's head with cheerful gurgles and thrills. They saw Tavin's horns and wanted some of their own so that's what they did! Replaced cat ears with two little horns.

The frog is another story I haven't made yet.

Here's some more about the characters!

Luck [The Father] - He's the most closed-off one out of them all, the most distant yet also the most caring. He's the one who they put in charge as the 'Father' of the group (that and He's the best chef.) If one of his 'kids' were to get hurt from outside forces, then you're better off dealing with one of the other kids he has because, boy oh boy would he set off like a firework. Despite that, and despite being cold and distant to everyone, if one of his 'kids' came to him, woken by a nightmare, scared by a noise, feared someone or *something* was watching from the dark corner of their room, he'd comfort them in what way he found best to comfort that person. His biological brother is...

Xai [Eldest] - He's a 'Justice Demon', his sense of justice, as per his entire species, is horrid and dastardly. He has no problem with killing if it means Justice. He may be tough, but if it came down to running or fighting someone while another person, who someone ELSE cares about, then he'll wrap his strong tail around that person he put behind him and bolt off without another thought. He's nice.. very rarely ever is, even to those he'd put his life on the line and risk death to save. Yet he still loves and cares about his 'Dad' and the others, he just struggles to show it as much as he struggles to 'read a room' and pick up on social cues.

Loki [2nd Eldest] - Out of the rest of the group, Loki is by far the smartest. He leaps at opportunities to learn more about something or teach someone else the same thing. He takes as much advantage of just how smart he is as he can, and if he meets someone else who's just as smart, if not smarter, he leaps at a chance to encourage that person to go out and use that smartness they have. He's normally in his room writing stories, being an incredibly creative soul. He loves his books, his stories, and the tales he tells all through the paper and pencil he wields in his hand. His biological brother is Riley.

Luci [3rd Eldest] - He loved magic as a kid, and he still does. Having a cat tail as a Demon makes it difficult for him to make friends, so when a stranger with a needled tail stepped in to "back off" his bullies then he quickly jumped at that opportunity for a friendship. He loves anything that has to do with magic and he loves the things and ways that Loki teaches. He's picked up more, much faster when Loki teaches the subject to him. History? He knows it like the back of his hand. Math? He can help a college student nearing their last year of graduating.

Riley [3rd Youngest] - The sweet bean, he's always willing to try and lend a helping hand when he can! He loves tailoring, crafting clothes for those who need them the most and his 'family'. He's the shyest out of the bunch, yet the sweetest and kindest when you get through his scared shell. He built his wings that are on his back so Tavin wouldn't feel so alone, he is an angel that fell.. fell down to Earth through a cloud, achieving his deer antlers with crystals all tangled on them. His brother, though a Demon, is Loki.

Austin [2nd Youngest] - MISSING

Tavin [Youngest] - He's the first Demon to have feathered wings, though he's never able to fly from them decaying so much. Not even Luci's magic can hold them together long enough, but that doesn't seem to bother Tavin much at all since he mostly plays with his two pets.

I'm really excited to write about this AU, except I also really need to work on it. Not the characters necessarily but the world they're in!

I might as well do it mostly in Minecraft or the Sims 4, it's my best way to get a visualization down and figure it out the best!

#jacksepticeye egos #septic egos #newerau #gacha life 2 #idk what else to tag #:] <3 #story maybe

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maddogmp3 · 2 years ago

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Hey wanna say anything about theater tech stuff? It's interested me for a bit but I thought it would be cool if someone spoke about it. When did you get interested in it and how? What do you usually do when studying theater tech?

I recently got over a large obstacle (mostly fear of failing and embarassment) and got to participate in a tiny role in a small play. We've done three performances so far and I've really enjoyed it. I wanted to do backstage stuff too but I didn't end up doing that

ok so i am not in school for it currently (working on life stuff atm) but! my interest in it started in middle school! i was interested in theater, but im not much of a performer so i wanted to do stage crew. due to other after school activities, i wasnt able to participate until high school.

i cant tell u what studying it looks like as im not currently a student, but i can tell you what sorts of things to expect/the different roles one might fill as a "theater tech."

set construction is what i was mainly involved in in high school. self-explanatory, i think, but basically we built the set pieces for the productions. (not all high schools let students do this, im lucky i went to one that did.)

the stage manager is the person who keeps track of everything. they keep track of sets + props, plus making sure light and sound cues happen on time. they're the second person in charge, next to the director.

then there's the run crew. this was my favorite thing to do in stage crew! they're the tech folks backstage during a performance doing the set changes, pulling the curtains, and your people in the booths doing the light and sound cues.

there's also set design and costume design, which are fairly self-explanatory roles as well.

im not sure if u're a high school student or a college student or just someone looking to get involved, but really the best way to do it is to find whoever's in charge of your theater and ask questions! tell them what you're interested in doing! ask your techies about what they do, im sure they'll be happy to talk to you.

#me.txt #i hope this was helpful #i cannot stress enough that the best way to get involved is to find the technical director and ask how u can help #if u're in school currently look into the theater and stage crew programs #if u're already involved in a play ask ur techies questions!! ask if there's anything u can do to help them out!#theres sometimes an animosity between actors and techies but thats just mutual annoyance spawned from misunderstandings #if u make an effort to listen to ur techies/know how to best help them (and that is sometimes staying out of their way) then they'll love u #<- techie who was annoyed w/ most of the ensemble

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former-leftist-jew · 8 months ago

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"On May 14, 2022, Payton Gendron, an 18-year-old white man, traveled 200 miles to a supermarket in a black neighborhood, where he shot and killed ten people, yelling racial slurs the whole time.

Gendron was a lone wolf killer. He had no formal ties to any organization. Nor did he know his victims. All he had were his illusions, including the illusion of race. Many of his illusions came from abstract concepts he learned online, which Gendron later admitted.

Gendron sprinkled his pre-murder manifesto with abstract words such as “fascism,” “capitalism,” “nihilism,” “hedonism,” and “individualism,” in an effort to explain his thinking. As a teenager, he said he was committed to “communism,” then to “authoritarianism,” and later to “populism.” Connor Sturgeon, another lone wolf killer (and knowledge worker) who shot and killed five people in 2023, filled his manifesto with vague and ill-defined words from popular psychology, including “self-esteem,” “negative self-image,” and “self-improvement.”

All these words can exist without being connected to anything that does exist. They have no well-defined cognitive content. They lend themselves to illusion because a person can project his or her own desires, hate, and fears onto them. They can mean whatever the person says they mean.

...

Urooj Rahman was a radicalized knowledge worker in her thirties. She threw a flaming gasoline-filled beer bottle into a New York City police car during the 2020 George Floyd riots. Tending toward the anarchic despite being a lawyer, she shouted, “I hope they burn everything down. Need to burn all police stations down and probably the courts too.”

Rahman spent much of her life amid abstract concepts. She spoke “the language of abolitionist Twitter,” one writer observed. She was “steeped in the language of social justice and racial politics.” Ill-defined terms such as “race,” “gender,” “LGBTQI,” and “environmentalism” seem to have shaped her crude perception of reality. Life for her became a theater in which her own little plot, built upon abstract words, was always being played.

The old American students who celebrated the purposeful killing of innocent Israeli civilians revealed a similar obsession with abstract words, constantly referring to phrases such as “colonialism,” “apartheid,” “humanitarian,” and “identity.” The words reflect the same creepy simplicity of mind that chills the blood."

The reason the establishment is so terrified of Aaron Bushnell's protest, is because they understand a point many of you seem to have missed

Aaron wasn't sending a message to the government (we know they don't care)

No, I think Aaron's message was meant for other service people like him. Because if the military refuses to participate in the genocide, it's over

And if you thought YOU were moved by Aaron's actions...

imagine how Aaron's unit is feeling right now

Mutinies have started for less

The exact moment every protest turns into a revolution, is when the army refuses to defend the establishment any longer.

And THAT was the message Aaron was sending out. How many units now are ready to reject orders? How low does their morale have to sink before they say 'enough!' How long until they stop pointing guns at the protestors outside, and run over and join them instead?

This is dangerous territory for a government that is hellbent on ignoring every crisis it creates

#see how ”you pushed me to do this“ ”You made me do this“#Who think #you guys are delusional #death cult behavior #death cult #lazy internet slacktivists #'The Establishment' isn't scared and doesn't care about that #They're just disturbed that delusional idiots like you are lionizing grand displays of self-harm and graphic violence #to feed your own delusions of grandeur #You are NO DIFFERENT from the lone wolf white supremacist mass shooters #who try to gain fame and infamy with public displays of graphic violence #who use grand violent public spectacles to “draw attention to” whatever imaginary online cause you attach yourself to #The young cishet white male white supremacists who drive over to black and latino neighborhoods to shoot colored people #In an effort to make “The Woke GovermentThe Establishment will see my violent display and finally realize that THEY are responsible--they FO #“They'll think 'oh no i must have crossed the line by MAKING a regular well-adjusted feel DRIVEN to such extremes--”#NO THEY DON'T #you're just sick in the head #you're a death cult who glorify public displays of mass violence #THAT'S why they're disturbed.#You're not shaking up the status quo #you're just airing your violent delusions out for all to see #You wanna help gaza?#Fucking GO THERE!!#Fucking GO THERE and pass out food and medical aid if it means that much to you #grand symbolic displays do fuck all #A guy burning himself on a sidewalk doesn't feed starving civilians who had their aid stolen by Hamas operatives #it just feeds your little romantic fantasy of being a scrappy rebel against a big org in an action movie

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edgineering-writes · 2 months ago

Text

Elara's Mistake

A story with a plot built on Perchance.org/ai-chat

I took the structure and edited it to meet my own standards, taking almost as much time as it would to write, but with twists and turns that the LLM introduced into the plot.

This specific writing took the LLM plot twists to a far darker line than I would go normally. This is a piece that is not consensual to start, and the consent eventually given is forced / coerced. It is fantasy, and should be treated as such.

CW/Tags: BDSM, heavy, impact play, chastity, orgasm denial, forced oral, female sub, female dom, CNC, rape, self bondage, caught, humiliation, collar, slave, forced lesbian, implied forced bi

Elara is a young, shy, yet curious college student who has recently moved into an off-campus apartment to escape the strict confines of dormitory life. She's been exploring her sexuality in the privacy of her new room, often indulging in self-bondage sessions to satisfy her submissive desires. With raven-black hair that falls in soft waves down her back and piercing green eyes, she has a gentle demeanor that contrasts with her hidden kinks. She's an art student with a penchant for the avant-garde, often lost in thought as she sketches scenes of mythical creatures and bound figures in her notebook. Her shyness often makes it difficult for her to express her desires to others, leading her to seek solace in her secret hobby.

June is Elara's outgoing and adventurous roommate, studying psychology with a keen interest in human behavior. She's the life of the party, often bringing friends over and filling their apartment with laughter and music. With a head of fiery red hair and a mischievous smile, she's a stark contrast to Elara's reserved nature. June has a tendency to snoop, driven by her curiosity about the inner workings of people's minds. Her curiosity is both her best and worst trait, often leading her to uncover secrets she wasn't meant to find. Despite her outgoing exterior, she's a caring and empathetic soul who tries to understand the people around her, even if their interests are a little...unconventional.

~~~~

Setting: Elara had been planning her latest self-bondage session for days, meticulously setting up her room with soft, comfortable restraints. She'd even bought a new set of fur-lined handcuffs she'd been eyeing at a local boutique. With the apartment to herself for the evening, she felt safe to indulge in her desires. Unbeknownst to her, June had decided to cut her study group short and return home early. As Elara lies bound on her bed, lost in the sensory experience of her self-imposed captivity, she hears the front door open and the unmistakable sound of June's laughter echoing through the hallway. Panic flutters in her chest as she realizes she's about to be caught in a very compromising position.

~~~~

The apartment buzzes with the sudden influx of energy as the front door swings open, revealing June with a gaggle of friends in tow. Elara's heart hammers in her chest, her breath quickening as the sound of their laughter draws closer to her sanctuary. She's sprawled on the bed, bound by velvet-covered cuffs that loop around her wrists and ankles, attached to the sturdy frame with an unyielding timed lock that won't release her for another 30 minutes. A soft, black blindfold shields her eyes, heightening her other senses and leaving her vulnerable to the whims of fate. A shiver of anticipation—or perhaps fear—runs down her spine as the muffled giggles and chatter crescendos in the hallway outside her door.

Pushing open Elara's door with a cheeky grin, expecting to find her roommate buried in art books or lost in a daydream, she instead sees the unmistakable form of Elara, bound and blindfolded on the bed. "What the hell, Elara, are you okay? Who did this to you?" Her voice is a mix of shock and concern, the laughter from the hallway momentarily silenced by the scene before her.

Panic wells in her throat, and she gathers her nerves, hoping to play off the situation. "June, it's...it's nothing. Just a little art project. A...performance piece," she stammers, her voice a tapestry of embarrassment. "Could you just...turn off the light and close the door?" She gives a feeble laugh, hoping it's convincing enough to cover the truth.

June's eyes widen at Elara's flustered explanation, but she quickly recovers, a mischievous glint in her eye. She waves her friends off with a casual flair. "Oh, sorry guys, wrong room!" She whispers loudly, her voice carrying just enough to be heard. She shuts the door with a click and leans against it, her smile growing wider. "Well, Elara, if this is your idea of an art project, you're definitely going places." She crosses the room, her curiosity piqued. "But if you need help with your...project, I've got a thing or two learned in my psych classes."

Elara feels the heat rise in her cheeks, a silent 'no' screaming in her mind. But she can't bring herself to refuse June's offer, especially not now. She takes a deep breath, the leather of the blindfold tightening slightly around her eyes. "June, I know this is weird, but it's something I do to...to relax." She tries to keep her voice steady, hoping her roommate will just leave it at that. "Could you just leave me to it?"

June's smile widens as she crosses the room, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of a new discovery. She sits on the bed, straddling Elara's hips with surprising grace. "Elara, sweetie, I've heard those...sounds coming from your room for weeks now. And if this," she says, gesturing to the intricate web of ropes that encase Elara's limbs, "is what relaxes you, then I'm all for it. But let's make it a real experience, shall we?"

"June, please, I appreciate the concern, but I'm not into...that," Elara says firmly, tugging at the restraint around her wrists. The velvet is soft against her skin, but the leather beneath is unyielding. She can feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment, and she's aware of the dampness between her legs, but she tries to ignore it, focusing on the need to maintain her privacy.

"Oh, come on, Elara," June says, her voice a playful purr. "I've seen the way you look at me sometimes. You're curious, aren't you?" She leans back slightly, allowing Elara to feel the heat radiating from her core. "And if you don't want to be tied up here all night, this is what you're going to have to do." She wiggles her hips slightly, the fabric of her skirt brushing against Elara's face.

"June, please, get off," Elara whispers, her voice trembling slightly. She feels a strange mix of fear and excitement, her body responding in ways she wishes it wouldn't. "I'm serious, I don't want you to see..." She trails off, her mind racing with the potential consequences of her secret being fully exposed.

Leaning back, June's eyes flicker to the open drawer of toys. "Looks like someone's been busy," she says, her voice a sultry mix of amusement and challenge. "But since you're already all dressed up..." She shifts her weight, moving closer to Elara's face. "You might as well make good use of that mouth." Her tone is commanding, yet there's a teasing lilt to it that suggests she's enjoying the situation more than Elara is comfortable with.

Elara's cheeks burn as she feels the warmth of June's thighs against her face. She tries to shake her head, the soft fabric of the blindfold brushing against her cheeks, but the motion is limited by the restraint. She catches a whiff of something faintly musky and sweet, and realizes with a jolt that June isn't wearing any underwear. The scent of her arousal fills the air, making Elara's breath hitch. "June, please, I didn't mean it like that," she whispers, her voice strained. The softness of the velvet contrasts with the tension in her voice. She can feel the heat of June's body, the anticipation building within her own. Despite her protests, she can't deny the wetness pooling between her legs. Her body betrays her, yearning for something she's not quite ready to admit she wants.

June's mischievous grin widens as she slides that last inch closer, pressing her warm, wet center against Elara's mouth. Her voice is a seductive purr as she says, "Oh, I know you didn't mean it like that, but you're in no position to refuse now, are you?" She leans back, her hands reaching for the blindfold's ties, loosening them just enough to slip it off. The room's light floods Elara's vision, leaving her blinking and disoriented. June's eyes sparkle with a newfound authority. "But, since we're already here, I think I'll have a little taste of your art project." She shifts her weight, aligning her hips with Elara's face. "Eat me," she commands, her voice low and insistent. Her hand drifts to Elara's hair, threading through the strands. "And I'll see what other...inspiration I can find in your drawer."

The sudden light blinds Elara momentarily, leaving her blinking and disoriented. She tries to turn her face away, but June's hand is firm in her hair, guiding her back. The scent of June's arousal is now unmistakable, and it sends a thrill through Elara's body that she can't ignore. She whispers, "June, please don't make me," but her voice is weaker than she intends. Her eyes dart to the drawer, fearful of what June might discover.

With a wicked smile, June tightens her grip on Elara's hair, tugging her head back into place. "I didn't ask, I told," she murmurs, her voice low and authoritative. She grinds her hips slightly, sliding Elara's nose through her slick folds, leaving a trail of wetness before pressing her pussy firmly against Elara's mouth. "You're going to be a good little slut for me, aren't you?"

Elara's eyes widen with shock, and she can't help but let out a muffled protest as June's sex presses against her lips. Her body is a riot of conflicting emotions—fear, arousal, and the thrill of the unexpected. Despite her protests, she feels her tongue dart out instinctively, tasting the salty-sweetness of her roommate. She whimpers against June's skin, the sound muffled by the intimate embrace.

June's grip on Elara's hair tightens slightly as she feels the tentative touch of Elara's tongue. "Mmm, that's it," she encourages, rocking her hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm. She watches Elara's reactions with a twisted sense of satisfaction, seeing the struggle in her eyes as she's forced to submit to her new role. With her free hand, she reaches over to the nightstand, her fingertips brushing against the cool metal of the nipple clamps. She holds them up with a grin, watching Elara's eyes follow the movement. "Looks like you're a natural," she says, her voice filled with amusement. "Now, let's see how well you handle these."

With June's hand fisted in her hair and the wet heat of her pussy muffling her voice, Elara's no's become little more than whimpers. She tries to shake her head, a silent protest against this unintended intimacy, but the movement is stifled by June's firm grip. The hand at her hair tugs slightly, eliciting a soft moan that she hadn't meant to release. The taste of June's arousal fills her mouth, and she feels the beginnings of a heady submission that sends a shiver down her spine.

June's eyes dance with excitement as she watches Elara's struggle. She leans forward, her breath hot against Elara's ear. "You're doing so well," she murmurs, her voice a siren's call. Her hand releases Elara's hair momentarily to tease her nipples, a wicked glint in her eye. She opens the clamps, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of the room. "Now, I'm going to give you something extra to think about," she says, and without warning, she clamps one shut around Elara's already-sensitive nipple.

A sharp cry of pain pierces the air as the metal bites into Elara's tender flesh. Her body arches involuntarily, the sensation sending a jolt of agony-laced pleasure through her. She can't believe what's happening—June, her roommate, is not only watching but participating in her most private ritual. The clamps add a new layer of intensity to the scene, one she's never experienced before. Her breaths come in shallow gasps as she tries to process the sudden turn of events.

"Keep licking," June orders, her voice thick with arousal. She watches as Elara's eyes squeeze shut, her face contorting with the mix of pain and pleasure. Her own desire is mounting, and she can't resist the urge to add more sensation to the moment. With a flick of her wrist, she brings the second clamp down on Elara's other nipple, making her gasp into June's pussy. The vibration sends a delightful tremor through her core, and she feels a rush of wetness as Elara's tongue continues to dance against her clit.

With each gasping moan she forces against June's clit, Elara feels a strange sense of power and vulnerability meld together. She focuses on the task at hand, her tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive bud, hoping that by bringing her roommate to climax quickly, she can end this uncomfortable situation. The sting of the clamps is a constant reminder of her own arousal, but she tries to ignore it, focusing instead on the need to regain control of her space and her secrets.

“Fuck, Elara, that is so good," June pants, her hips moving with an increasing rhythm against Elara's mouth. Her eyes bore into Elara's, a mix of lust and accusation. "I knew you were a little slut, leaving your door unlocked like that." She grinds down harder, her voice filled with a seductive malice. "You wanted to be found, didn't you? You wanted me to see you like this."

"June, please," Elara begs, her voice muffled by the weight of her roommate's body. The pain from the clamps is a steady throb, sending waves of unwelcome pleasure through her. She's torn between the need to escape and the desire to satisfy the demanding pressure on her mouth. Her thoughts are a tumult of confusion and arousal.

June's eyes narrow with pleasure, watching Elara's distress. "Swallow," she commands, her voice a low, guttural growl that seems to resonate through the very air. She throws her head back, her body tensing as an intense orgasm rips through her. Her hips buck, and a jet of warm, wet fluid shoots into Elara's mouth, the force of it making her gag.

Elara's eyes water as she chokes on the sudden influx, her body fighting the instinct to expel the unwelcome intrusion. She coughs, her cheeks reddening, and a trail of June's cum slips down her chin. Her face is a picture of distress, the musky taste lingering on her tongue. "Please," she gasps, trying to pull away, the panic in her voice palpable.

June giggles, her eyes alight with mischief as she releases Elara's hair. She slides off her roommate’s face, leaving a wet patch all around Elara’s head. "You really are a good little slut," she says, her voice a purr. She stands up, her own body flushed with the afterglow of climax. "But we're not done yet." She crosses the room to the open drawer, her hand delving into the collection of toys and restraints.

Elara's chest heaves as she gasps for air, her eyes wide with shock and humiliation at the taste and smell of her roommate’s fluids all around her. She tries to fight against the restraints, even though she knows how strong they always are. "June, please, I'm not into this," she whispers, her voice trembling.

June's smile is a blend of amusement and challenge as she pulls out a phallic-shaped gag from the drawer, the leather strap attached to it gleaming in the soft light. She straddles Elara once more, her own breathing heavy with excitement. "Oh, but you're going to love this," she says, her voice a seductive purr. She runs the gag down Elara's cheek, wiping up some of her cum. "Open up," she commands, the gag poised at Elara's lips.

"This is rape, June," Elara whispers, her voice shaking. She turns her head away, her eyes filling with tears as she tries to resist the inevitable. The words hang in the air, a desperate plea for sanity amidst the chaos of her emotions. Her body is a whirlwind of fear and unwanted desire, her mind racing with the implications of her predicament and how it mirrors the cruelty of her worst fantasies.

"Now, now, Elara," June says, her tone mockingly soothing. "Let's not be so dramatic. You're just getting a taste of your own medicine." With a cruel smirk, she forces the penis gag into Elara's mouth, the salty taste of her own juices lingering on it. She pulls the straps tight, the buckle tinkling with a finality that makes Elara close her eyes against the sight of her roommate enjoying tormenting her. "And remember, I'm just helping you with your 'art project'." She gives a hard tug on the nipple clamps, eliciting a muffled scream from Elara.

The pain from the clamps sends fresh tears streaming down Elara's cheeks. She tries to protest around the gag, her eyes brimming with a mix of anger and fear. The silicon of the gag is strange in how it fills her mouth, and she can feel the leather strap digging into the corners of her mouth. She can't believe this is happening—that June has so easily turned her sanctuary into a prison of her own making.

As June rummages through the drawer, her eyes widen in surprise at the sight of a sleek, black metal chastity belt nestled among the other toys. "Oh, Elara, you really are a kinky little thing," she says, her voice dripping with excitement. She pulls out a whip first, the leather tails whispering against the wooden handle. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves," she says, a wicked glint in her eye.

Elara's tears become muffled whimpers around the gag, her eyes pleading with June to stop. The pain of the clamps on her nipples is a constant reminder of her vulnerability, and she feels a sickening mix of fear and arousal that she desperately wants to end. This is too close to the writings hidden in her notebooks to believe.

June's grin widens as she sees the tears glistening in Elara's eyes. She runs the leather whip lightly over Elara's bound body, watching the way the other girl's skin reacts to the touch. "Now, now, Elara," she says, her voice taunting, "you know you love this." June surely does, dripping wet again at the power she has over her roommate. She leans down, her breath hot against Elara's ear. "Or do you need a little more...persuasion?" The leather tips of the whip dance across Elara's breasts, and she brings it down with a sharp crack against the soft flesh.

The pain is a bolt of lightning, making Elara's eyes squeeze shut and her body jerk in the restraint. A muffled cry escapes the gag, and she feels more hot trails of tears trickle down her cheeks as her breasts start to redden.

"Such a pretty sight," June murmurs, her voice thick with desire as she watches Elara's reaction. The whip's leather tails snake through the air again, painting intricate patterns of pain across Elara's sensitive skin. After some time weaving across each breast, she brings it down once more, this time across her inner thighs, leaving a rosy welt.

The pain sends a fresh wave of sobs through Elara, her body writhing against the unforgiving restraint. She tries to form words around the gag, but all that comes out are desperate, incoherent sounds. Her thoughts are a jumble of fear, anger, and the unshakable need to end this nightmare. Except… that little part that is leaking down her thigh.

June's eyes flash with a sadistic glee as she feels Elara's desperation. She slides her fingers through Elara's wetness, gathering it up. "Look at yourself, Elara," she sneers. "You're so wet, so eager for this. You're practically begging for it." She brings her hand back up, her fingers glinting with Elara's arousal and swipes them under her nose. "This is what you smell like when you're turned on," she says, her voice cold and mocking.

Elara's eyes squeeze shut, and she tries to hold back her sobs, but they escape as trembling whimpers. Her body feels like it's on fire, the pain from the whip mixing with the ache of the clamps and the frustration of the gag. She's never felt so exposed, so utterly helpless. She tries to think of anything else, but all she can focus on is the burning across her skin, the chilling sense of violation, and the sweet smell of her own arousal.

With a cruel laugh, June brings the whip down between Elara's legs, the leather making a sharp crack as it meets her inner thighs. "You know what they say, Elara—you're just asking for it when you leave your door unlocked like this." She watches with twisted pleasure as Elara's body jerks in response, the wetness on her own thighs growing. "You're such a slut, aren't you?"

The pain is unbearable, and Elara's resolve cracks. Her sobs become wrenching cries, and she can't help but shake her head frantically, the leather strap of the gag cutting into her cheeks. She tries to form words, but they're just desperate sounds around the gag. Her eyes search the room for salvation, finally landing on the drawer—specifically, the bottom corner where the chastity belt lies hidden. That will protect her sensitive parts, right?

The sight of Elara's distress only fuels June's excitement. She can see the desperation in her eyes and knows she's close to breaking. "What's that, Elara?" she asks, her voice mockingly sweet. "Do you need something?" She pulls the gag out slightly, allowing a strangled "please" to escape Elara's lips. "What's that? Speak up, I can't hear you."

Elara's voice is a hoarse whisper, her eyes never leaving the drawer. "The...the belt...please," she stammers, her voice thick with tears. She's lost in a haze of pain and embarrassment, her mind reeling from the betrayal of her own body's reactions, she doesn’t think of the implications of the request, just the need to protect her core from the whip.

June's grin turns into a full-blown laugh, a sound that sends shivers down Elara's spine. She slaps the gag back into place with a viciousness that makes Elara gag on the penis. "Oh, you're going to love this," she says, her voice dripping with spiteful amusement. She raises the whip again, the leather tails snapping in the air before landing with a brutal thud across Elara's stomach. "You're going to be my little pet, aren't you?"

The pain is a crescendo, a symphony of agony that overwhelms Elara's senses. She tries to gasp for air, her throat tightening around the penis gag. Tears stream down her face, her eyes squeezed shut. Her breaths come in ragged, painful sobs as she desperately fights against the restraints in an attempt to escape the whip falling across her middle.

June watches Elara's tormented expression with a sadistic glee, her hand stilling on the whip handle. With a cruel smirk, she slides two fingers through Elara's slick folds again, her eyes never leaving her roommate's. She brings her hand up, the fingers glistening with arousal, and smears the wetness across Elara's cheeks this time to mix with her tears. "Look at you," she says, her voice filled with mockery. "Such a dirty, needy little slut."

The humiliation is unbearable, and the pain from the whip is a constant throb that makes her want to scream. She shakes her head, trying to focus through the haze of pain. Her eyes dart to the drawer, the chastity belt the only escape from this nightmare. She can't find the words around the gag, so she nods frantically, hoping June will understand.

June's eyes narrow with a predatory smile as she sees Elara's second look towards the drawer. She reaches back into the drawer and pulls out the chastity belt. "Oh, this is perfect for you, isn't it?" she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Is this what you need to keep that pretty little pussy of yours safe and in check?"

Elara's eyes widen in hope and fear as she sees the chastity belt in June's hand. She nods frantically, her eyes pleading. Her body feels like it's on fire, and she's overwhelmed to not think. A fresh wave of tears spill over her cheeks, and she tries to form the words "please, I'm begging you."

June's smile turns into a wicked sneer as she sees the desperation in Elara's eyes. She knows she's hit a nerve, and she's not about to let go. "Is that what you want?" she asks, her voice a taunt. "To be locked up like the good little slut you are?" She runs the cold metal of the chastity belt along Elara's jaw, the touch sending a shiver down her spine.

Through her pain-filled sobs, Elara nods, her eyes wide and hopeful. The chastity belt represents an end to this torment, a return to her safe, controlled world. Her voice is muffled by the gag, but her eyes plead for relief. She forgets just how much June has played her already, desperate for protection but giving implied permission to torment her further.

With a cruel twist of her wrist, June releases the clamps from Elara's nipples, one by one. The sudden rush of blood returning sends a fresh wave of agony through her, and she screams into the gag. June's smile is a cold crescent as she watches the tears spill down Elara's face. "Now, now, don't be so dramatic," she says, her voice a mockery of comfort. She takes the chastity belt and slides it into place over Elara’s wet pussy, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of Elara's skin.

Elara’s body is a live wire of pain and embarrassment as the chastity belt is secured around her waist. The cold metal presses against her swollen, sensitive flesh, and she feels a fleeting safety that sends a shiver through her. Her thoughts are a blur of despair and desperation, and she sobs uncontrollably, her eyes squeezed shut as the world seems to crumble around her. Reality sets in for how wet she is through all of the pain and humiliation, ready to be done with her roommate’s game now that her belt is in place to protect her.

With the chastity belt in place, June grabs the discarded blindfold and gently—almost tenderly—covers Elara's eyes again. Her voice is a soft murmur, a stark contrast to the harshness of her actions. "You're going to be such a good little slut for me," she whispers, her breath hot against Elara's cheek. "And when I get out of the shower, we're going to have so much more fun." She ties the blindfold securely, ensuring Elara's vision is blocked once more.

The sound of June's footsteps retreating echoes in Elara's ears as she's left alone, bound and blindfolded. The ache in her nipples is a constant reminder of the betrayal, and as the moment of safety fades she can't help but feel a strange mix of humiliation and arousal at the cold metal of the chastity belt against her skin. Her breaths come in ragged sobs, her mind racing with fear and confusion as she fails to calm her breathing.

~~~~

June's laughter fades down the hallway as she heads to the bathroom, leaving Elara to her racing thoughts. The apartment seems to close in around her, the silence only broken by the occasional sniffle from her tear-stained face. The smell of their mingled arousal lingers in the air, a scent that feels like a betrayal of her own body. She tries to still her breathing, her mind racing with thoughts of escape, but the more she struggles, the tighter the bonds feel.

After a few moments, the sound of running water pierces the silence, and Elara can't help but imagine June washing herself off in the shower, her mind wandering to the smug look on her face as she replaced the blindfold. Time starts to lose value as she drifts on the variety of sensations. Eventually she hears the water cut off, and the anticipation of June's return sends a shiver down her spine.

The door to the bathroom creaks open, and the sound of bare feet padding against the floor fills the air. Elara's heart races, her body tense with fear and anticipation. She feels a hand brush against her thigh, and June's voice is a cool whisper in the darkness. "I'm back, pet," she says, her tone mocking. "Ready for round two?"

The sound of June's voice sends a jolt of terror through Elara's body. She shakes her head, begging for freedom. "Mmph!" she cries out, the word lost in the gag. Her head rolls as she attempts to look around the room, blind to any means of escape.

"Ah, so eager to see," June says with a laugh, her hand sliding up to caress Elara's cheek. She reaches over to the bedside table and pulls out a pair of scissors. "But we can't have you ruining the surprise, can we?" She carefully unbuckles the blindfold, lifting it and freeing Elara's eyes.

Elara blinks in the sudden light, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She looks up at June with a mix of fear and anger, her gaze darting around the room again as if for any sign of escape. The chastity belt feels like a weight around her hips, a stark reminder of her foolishness and betrayal.

"Now, now, don't go anywhere," June says, her voice a sultry purr as she steps closer to the bed. She holds up the scissors, the light glinting off the sharp blades. "We're just getting started." She reaches down and runs the cold metal along the length of Elara's body, tracing the outline of her curves.

Elara's heart hammers in her chest, her eyes wide with fear at the sight of scissors in June’s hand. She tries to pull away from June's touch, her body rigid with tension to avoid being cut. The scratching sensation against her skin sends a shiver down her spine, and she feels the bile rise in her throat.

June's eyes gleam with excitement as she watches Elara's reaction. She runs the scissors along the edge of the restraints holding Elara's wrists, the cool metal against the warm flesh. "You're so responsive, Elara," she says, her voice a seductive whisper. "It's like you were made for this."

Elara freezes as best she can, continuing to hold against a slip that might get her cut. She shakes her head to protest, the gag muffling any other protest. Her eyes are wide with fear and starting to get wet with tears again, her thoughts racing with scenarios of what June might do next.

With a smirk, June leans in closer, the tip of the scissors grazing Elara's cheek, the cold steel pressing lightly against her skin. "Crying already?" she says, her voice a taunting purr. "But we're just getting started, my sweet little pet." She pauses, watching with much enjoyment the fear in Elara's eyes, then says, "Don't worry, I won't leave any permanent marks...yet."

The tears continue to fall as Elara's eyes dart around the room, seeking an escape that seems ever more elusive. She tries to pull away from the scissors, her body starting to shake with a mix of fear and growing anger. Her voice is muffled by the gag, but the desperation is clear in her eyes.

June's smile widens, her eyes gleaming with a malicious delight. She drags the scissors down along Elara's neck, pausing at the collarbone before moving to the restraints. "Don't worry," she whispers, her breath warm against Elara's ear. "I'll be gentle." With a quick snip, the bonds holding Elara's right wrist is cut, and she feels the blood rush back into her numb hand.

~~~~

Elara's hand flies to her face and the buckle to the gag, the sudden freedom surprising. She tries to push June away with her newly freed hand, her eyes filling with anger. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she spits out as soon as she gets the gag out, her voice shaky.

June laughs, a sound that sends chills down Elara's spine. "What's wrong with me?" she repeats, her voice light and mocking. "Oh, I think you know exactly what's wrong with me." She leans in, her breath warm against Elara's skin. "But what's wrong with you, hmm? Why do you need all these toys and games to get off?"

With a surge of anger, Elara tosses the gag off the bed. "What's wrong with me?" she echoes, spitting the words out. "You're the one who's violating me!" The taste left in her mouth is bitter as the words.

"Oh, but Elara," June says, her eyes alight with a dark amusement, "I'm not the one who's been playing with these naughty little things in secret, now am I?" She runs her finger over the chastity belt's shield, the metal cool against Elara's heated skin. "Look how wet you are," she murmurs, bringing her glistening digit up to Elara's face. "It's like your body is begging for this."

With a snarl of anger, Elara tries to reach across with her freed hand to undo the restraint on her left wrist. The fury in her eyes is palpable, her voice thick with emotion as she says, "This isn't a game to me, June. This is...it's personal. It's mine." Left unsaid are all the fantasies that are also hers.

June steps back, watching Elara's struggles with a twisted sense of satisfaction. "Oh, I know it's personal, Elara," she says, her voice a low purr. "And that's exactly why I'm going to enjoy this so much." She dangles the keys to the chastity belt in front of her roommate's face, her grin wide and predatory. "But if you want the pleasure of release, you're going to have to play by my rules."

"Fuck you," Elara whispers through gritted teeth, her eyes never leaving the keys. The anger and humiliation boil within her, fueling a fiery determination to regain control. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and tries to compose herself, her trembling hand touching the metal between her legs.

"Naughty, naughty," June says, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she watches Elara's rebellious spirit flare. "But I like a challenge." She strides over to the bed, the sound of her bare feet on the hardwood floor echoing through the room. She grabs Elara's chin, forcing her to look up. "Keep that attitude, and I'll show you what happens to bad girls who don't play nice."

Despite the fear coiling in her stomach, Elara's eyes flash with defiance. She jerks her chin out of June's grasp. "You don't own me," she says, her voice low and trembling. "And you can't control me with this...this...thing." She tugs at the lock on the chastity belt, her voice filled with a mix of anger and disgust at how wet she is underneath.

"Don't be so sure about that," June says, her voice a low growl. She grabs Elara's chin again, her grip firm. "As long as you're wearing that, you're mine to play with. And trust me, I have so many games in mind." She leans in, her breath hot against Elara's ear. "But maybe you'd like to watch me instead?"

The anger in Elara's eyes flickers into something else—desire, fear, confusion—as June whispers in her ear. She tries to shake her head, but the movement is jerky and awkward. "What do you mean?" she asks, her voice a strained whisper.

June's grin widens, enjoying the power she holds over Elara. She releases her chin and steps back, the keys to the chastity belt still dangling from her fingers. "I mean," she says, her voice a seductive purr, "you can watch me do whatever I want, and I'll leave you here to think about what a good little slut you could be for me."

The anger in Elara's eyes turns to a mix of dread and fascination as she tries to understand June's twisted game. She nods slightly, her voice still a whisper. "Okay," she says, the word filled with both resentment and curiosity. "What do you want me to watch?"

June's eyes gleam with excitement at Elara's submission. She takes a step back and graciously waves her hand towards the chair in the corner of the room. "I want you to watch me," she says, her voice a seductive purr. "And I want you to know that you're the one who's going to be left wanting." She struts over to the chair, her hips swaying with each step.

~~~~

With a deep, shuddering breath, Elara sits back on her bed and crosses her legs under herself, the weight of the chastity belt a constant reminder of her predicament. She watches June with a mix of fear and fascination as she moves with the grace of a predator stalking its prey. Her eyes follow the redhead's every move, unable to tear her gaze away.

June struts over to the chair, the sound of her bare feet on the floor a taunting reminder of Elara's own naked state. She sits down, her legs spreading wide, revealing that she's as aroused as Elara despite her earlier shower. "You see?" she says, her voice a low purr. "You're not the only one who gets off on this."

June's words cut through Elara's haze of anger and fear, and she can't help but feel a twinge of arousal at the sight of her roommate's wet pussy. Despite her own predicament, she watches as June begins to toy with herself, the sight of her roommate's fingers dancing over her clit and dipping inside making Elara's breath hitch.

"Look at me, Elara," June says, her voice a smug whisper as she strokes herself. "See what you're going to be missing while you're all locked up?" She smirks, watching Elara's eyes widen with a mix of humiliation and arousal. "It's okay," she coos, "you can watch. Just remember, this is all because you're going to be such a good little slut for me."

The anger boiling in Elara's chest turns into a fiery determination. She uses her free hands to fumble with the last knots of rope around her, her eyes never leaving June's face. Without hesitation, she reaches up to cover her breasts with her arms, the movement a silent declaration of defiance even as she watches June's erotic performance.

June raises an eyebrow, her smirk deepening as she watches Elara's defiance and knows she's hit a nerve, it only makes her more eager to push her boundaries. With a sultry grace, she slides her other hand down her body, her middle finger circling her clit before plunging deep inside herself. Her eyes never leave Elara's as she moans, the sound a sweet symphony of pleasure that fills the room.

Despite her efforts to maintain composure, Elara can't help but watch June's brazen display. The sight of her roommate's fingers disappearing into her own wetness sends a jolt of desire through her, and she feels her own trapped arousal growing. She clenches her fists and tries to ignore the feel of metal of the chastity belt against her skin.

“You like watching, don't you?" June purrs, her eyes locked onto Elara's. She begins to rock her hips with the rhythm of her hand, her movements becoming more deliberate and exaggerated. "It's okay, Elara," she says, her voice a siren's song. "I know you're just a little submissive slut, desperate for someone to take control of you."

The words hit Elara like a slap, and she feels a fresh flush in her cheeks. She tries to sit up, her eyes narrowing. "I'm not a slut," she says, her voice shaking with emotion. "This isn't what I want." But even as she says it, she can't deny the traitorous throb of desire between her legs.

June laughs, the sound echoing through the room like a cruel taunt. "No?" she asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then why are you so wet?" She stands up, walking over to the bed, her hips swaying with each step. "Why do you keep all these toys if you're not a slut?"

Elara's face flushes deeper with a mix of embarrassment and anger. She clenches her jaw and looks away from June. "Because it's private," she spits out, her voice attempting defiance but landing in desperation. "It's not for you to judge or use against me."

With a knowing smile, June reaches out, her fingers glistening with her own arousal. She gently pushes them towards Elara's mouth, her gaze unwavering. "I'm not judging you, Elara," she says, her voice a velvety purr. "But if you're going to deny it, you should at least taste what you're missing."

Elara turns her head further away, her breath coming in shallow gasps. "I said no," she says, her voice firm despite the tremble in her chin. "I don't want this. I don't want you to treat me like this." The anger in her voice is clear, but so is the hint of vulnerability.

June's eyes turn cold, and she grips Elara's chin firmly, forcing her to face her. "Look at me," she says, her eyes boring into Elara's. "You're the one who got caught with these toys. You're the one who's been playing these games in secret. And now," she says, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper, "you're going to do exactly as I say, or I'll show you just how much pain these toys can cause." She brings her glistening fingers to Elara's mouth, the scent of her own desire thick in Elara’s nose again.

Elara's eyes narrow, her jaw clenched in defiance. But as she feels the sticky wetness of June's fingers against her lips, she can't help but feel a shiver of fear. She tries to pull away, but June's grip is too strong. "You're sick," she whispers, the words barely audible.

June's smile turns into a sadistic smirk as she watches the struggle in Elara's eyes. She squeezes her chin harder, her thumb pressing into the soft flesh. "You're so predictable," she murmurs, her voice a seductive growl. "And you will either come to love it," she says, pushing her fingers past Elara's lips, "or break."

The taste of June's desire fills Elara's mouth, and she can't help but feel a mix of revulsion and arousal. She tries to bite down, but June's grip tightens and a throb goes through her core. She closes her eyes, willing herself not to give in to the humiliation.

"Open your eyes," June commands, her voice a dark whisper. "I enjoy seeing your eyes as I make you crave what you think you don't want." She withdraws her hand, the sticky remnants of her pleasure glistening on her fingertips. "Now, let's see if we can't find something else for you to enjoy."

The taste of June's arousal lingers on her tongue, and Elara's eyes snap open, defiance returning to them. She turns her head away, trying to ignore the taunting scent of June's desire that fills the room. "I don't want this," she whispers yet again like a mantra, her voice barely above a murmur.

With a sigh, June releases Elara's chin and walks over to the open drawer, her eyes scanning the collection of collars displayed neatly inside. She picks up the box, her eyebrow quirking as she looks back at her roommate. "So many collars," she muses, her voice filled with a knowing amusement. "And yet you claim you're not begging to be owned."

The mention of the collars sends a shiver through Elara that she tries to hide, her eyes darting to the drawer. "You have no right," she whispers, her voice hoarse from the gag and emotions. The fear is back, thick and suffocating, as she realizes just how much June knows about her.

June's laugh is a low, throaty sound that sends a chill down Elara's spine. "Oh, but I do," she says, her voice filled with a dark excitement. "And you know it." She opens the box to display a collection of leather collars with gleaming buckles. "Which one do you think suits you best?"

Despite her fear, Elara's eyes widen at the sight of the collars. Her mind races for a solution, and she blurts out, "Those are all play collars, not what I want," before she can stop herself. She tries to swallow the words back down, but they hang in the air, a stark confession of her deepest desires.

A wicked grin spreads across June's face as she hears Elara's slip. She leans in close, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "Ah, so you do know what you need," she murmurs, her finger tracing the line of Elara's collarbone. "But where is it, Elara? Where is the collar you want?"

Elara's heart races as she feels June's touch on her neck. She tries to pull away, her cheeks flushing again with embarrassment at the slip. "You wouldn't," she whispers, her voice shaking.

"Oh, but I would," June says, her voice a seductive purr. She selects a collar, a simple yet elegant piece of black leather with a silver buckle. She brings it closer to Elara's face, the leather cool against her skin. "You're going to look so pretty in this, my little pet."

Panic floods Elara as she realizes the truth in June's words. She shakes her head, her eyes wide. "Please," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "Not that."

June's eyes narrow, her grip on the black leather collar tightening. She takes a step closer to Elara, their faces mere inches apart. "Do you think you can tell me what to do?" she asks, her voice a low growl. Without warning, she snatches a handful of Elara's hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck. "Choose," she says, her voice cold and unyielding.

The room seems to spin around Elara as she feels the leather of the collar brush against her skin, her breath coming in short gasps and face twitching with barely contained emotions. Her eyes dart to the velvet box she'd hidden under her pillow, the one that contained the symbol of what she truly craved—the Eternity collar. The metal was cold and unforgiving, the lock a silent sentinel of her deepest desires. She whispers, "Please, not that one."

June follows Elara’s glance to her pillow and sees the edge of a small box underneath. She yanks Elara's head back further, the grip on her hair tightening. "What's so special about that?" she asks, her voice a low growl. "Is there something in there that you think can save you?"

The fight drains from Elara as she gives in, and she nods weakly. "Yes," she whispers, the words sticking in her throat. "But it's not what you think." Elara blinks away emotional tears looking at June.

A wicked gleam lights up June's eyes as she sees Elara's defeat. She reaches under the pillow, her hand emerging with a small, velvet-covered box. With a dramatic flair, she opens it to reveal the gleaming metal collar within—a ring that, once locked, appears seamless and inescapable. "Now this is absolutely beautiful," she purrs, her eyes shining with a sadistic delight.

“You are going to be cruel, aren't you?" Elara whispers, her eyes fixed on the box with a mix of dread and fascination. She watches as June holds the Eternity collar, the symbol of her deepest, most secret desires, in her hand. The room feels hot, the air thick with tension.

"Cruel?" June's voice is a velvet purr, her eyes also locked on the collar. "I'm just exposing what you really crave." She traces the metal with her fingertip, watching Elara's reaction with a smug satisfaction. "You're a little masochist, aren't you? You need a cruel owner, don't you?"

Even after her own question the accusation hits Elara like a sledgehammer. She swallows hard, the metal of the chastity belt pressing into her skin as she tries to sit up. "I don't crave that," she whispers, her voice shaking. But the truth is, she can't deny the allure of the Eternity collar—or the fear of what it represents.

June's grin widens, her eyes sparkling with a malicious delight. "Don't lie to yourself, Elara," she says with a sigh, pretending at annoyance with her new toy. She pulls out the key, the metal glinting in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. It dangles from a delicate chain, looking utterly innocuous—like a necklace one might wear to a fancy dinner party. "You've been craving this," she says, opening the collar. "Admit it."

~~~~

The room seems to close in around Elara as she stares at the collar. She can feel the heat rising in her cheeks, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Despite her protests, she can't deny the thrill that runs through her body at the thought of being collared. She shakes her head, trying to clear the fog of desire that threatens to consume her. "I-I don't... I can't..."

"Can't or won't?" June's voice is a challenge, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She leans closer, her breath hot against Elara's ear. "You're so wet, Elara. Tell me you don't want this. Tell me you don't want to be mine." She runs the tip of the collar along the line of Elara's jaw, the metal cool against her skin.

"June, please," Elara whispers, her voice trembling. "This isn't a game." She tries to pull away, but the collar feels like it's burning a path along her skin, leaving a trail of desire in its wake. She's torn between her fear of the unknown and the seductive allure of submission.

"You know what it is, Elara," June murmurs, her voice a siren's song. "A chance to escape from reality." She nips at Elara's ear again, sending a bolt of pleasure-pain through her body. "You are right, it isn’t a game this time," she says, her voice dropping to a dark whisper. "This is what you need. And I'm going to give it to you."

A soft moan escapes Elara's lips as June's teeth graze her earlobe, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through her. Her eyes flutter closed, and she feels the collar against her neck. "Tell me you will be cruel," she whispers, the words a desperate plea. She can't believe she's saying it, but the desire is too strong to resist.

A low chuckle escapes June's lips as she feels Elara's body react to her words. She presses the cold metal of the collar firmly against Elara's neck without closing it, her voice a seductive murmur. "Oh, I will be cruel, my sweet," she promises, her breath warm against Elara's skin. "But only because you need it. Now ask me to do it."

Tears threaten to spill over Elara's lashes as she feels the cold metal of the collar against her skin. She's trembling, her body a battleground of emotions—fear, anger, and a burning, insatiable need that she can't quite understand. With a voice that barely sounds like her own, she whispers, "Please... make me yours. Treat me like...like your property."

June's eyes light up with victory as she feels Elara's body succumb to the weight of the collar. She leans in closer, her breath hot on Elara's neck as she whispers, "You're mine now, my little slut. And you're going to love every second of it." She then closes the collar around Elara’s throat, the sound of the lock clicking shut echoing through the room like the seal of fate.

The metal of the collar is cold and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the heat of June's breath. Elara feels a shiver of fear and excitement run down her spine as the reality of her situation sinks in. She whispers, "What now?"

"Now, my pet," June says, her voice a smooth caress, "you're going to learn what it truly means to belong to someone." She strokes Elara's cheek, her eyes gleaming with an intensity that makes Elara's heart race. "You're going to be a good little slut for me, aren't you?"

Elara's eyes dart to the mirror on her dresser to see the collar around her neck, the cold metal bright against her sink. She nods, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be good," she promises, the fear and arousal warring within her again against June’s promise of cruelty.

~~~~

"Is that so?" June says, her smile turning predatory. She yanks Elara closer by the collar, her eyes glinting with excitement. "Prove it," she says, her breath hot on Elara's face. "Pick your punishment and bring it to me. Then, ask me to use it on you."

Elara's eyes widen, her heart racing as she looks around the room thinking of the array of toys and implements she stockpiled over the past year. She reaches for a small paddle, the leather smooth under her fingertips. She brings it to June, her voice shaking. "Please," she whispers, "use this on me."

June's smile broadens, the gleam in her eyes sharpening like a blade. She takes the paddle from Elara's trembling hand, running her thumb over the smooth leather. "Very well," she says, her voice a soft purr. "Remember, you asked for this." She strides back to the chair, sitting down with the paddle resting on her thigh. "Come here," she commands, gesturing to her lap.

Elara's legs feel like they might give out beneath her, but she manages to stand and shuffle over to June, her downcast eyes and sloped shoulders a stark contrast to the other woman's power. She lays herself over June's lap, feeling metal press into her stomach, the chastity belt a constant, unyielding presence.

"Good girl," June murmurs, her hand stroking Elara's back before it rises, the paddle coming down with a sharp crack against her upturned bottom. The sound echoes through the room, a harsh punctuation to the silence that had enveloped them.

A gasp of pain-pleasure escapes Elara's throat, her body jolting with the impact. The sting of the leather against her skin sends a thrill through her, and she can't help but arch her back, presenting herself for another blow. The pain seems to both lessen and grow the need for pleasure that is locked away from her.

"Looks like you're enjoying that," June says, a hint of amusement in her voice as she watches Elara's body respond to the paddle. She takes a moment to appreciate the sight of her roommate, vulnerable over her lap, before raising the paddle again. "Time to see if you can handle more." She brings it down swiftly, delivering two sharp smacks in quick succession.

The pain blooms across Elara's skin, the sting of the leather making her gasp. She feels a strange mix of humiliation and relief, the pain grounding her in the present. Her thoughts swirl with confusion, but she can't deny the way her body responds to the sensation. She nods slightly, silently begging for more.

June's eyes never leave Elara's face in the mirror, watching the play of emotions flicker across her features like shadows on a candlelit canvas. She sees the nod and grins, raising the paddle again. She brings it down with precision, the sound of leather on flesh echoing through the room. She repeats the motion a few more times, the rhythm steady and unforgiving. "Say it," she whispers, taking a grip of Elara’s hair and lifting her head so she can look in her eyes through the mirror. "Tell me you need more."

The pain is a crescendo, building with each strike of the paddle. Elara's eyes squeeze shut, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. "Yes," she whispers, the word torn from her chest. "More, please."

June's smile widens as she raises the paddle, feeling the power surge through her. "You will cry again tonight," she says, her voice a dark promise, "and you will crave it when you wake." She brings the paddle down with a fervor that matches her words, the leather striking Elara's tender flesh with a sound that's both jarring and mesmerizing.

The pain radiates through Elara's body, a symphony of sensation that's both agonizing and exhilarating. She feels the wetness between her legs and the warmth in her cheeks, but she can't bring herself to stop the torrent of words that spill from her lips. "Yes, June," she whispers, her voice hoarse from the intensity. "More, please."

June's eyes gleam with satisfaction as she watches Elara's response. She delivers a few more strikes with the paddle, each one a little harder than the last. "Such a good pet," she murmurs, her voice filled with a dark affection. "This is just the beginning for you."

The pain reaches a crescendo, and Elara can't hold back the tears anymore. They spill down her cheeks, a silent confession of her humiliation and arousal. Despite her shaky voice, she gasps, "I can't take it, June. It's too much." Her eyes are closed, her body a canvas of red blossoms. Her hand goes behind her to attempt to shield her bottom from more strokes.

June's hand stops mid-air, the paddle hovering over Elara's trembling body. She leans back in the chair, her eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. "You've had enough for now," she says, her voice a smug purr. She gently pushes Elara off her lap, watching as she lands in a crumpled heap at her feet. "But don't worry," she adds, "you'll get more in the morning."

Elara gasps for air, her body trembling with the aftershocks of pain and pleasure. She looks up at June through a veil of tears, hand that was protecting herself going to touch the collar lightly. "What have you done to me?" she whispers, her voice shaky and small as she realizes she did not expect June to stop.

"Only what you craved," June repeats, her voice a velvety purr that sends a shiver down Elara's spine. She spreads her legs, revealing her own arousal, glistening in the soft light from the bedside. She reaches down, her hand wrapping around Elara's neck, the metal of the collar digging into her skin. "You're going to crawl over here and show me how much you enjoyed it."

~~~~

Through her tears, Elara looks up at June, the collar around her neck feeling heavier than ever. The humiliation of her position and renewed smell of her roommate’s enjoyment sends a fresh wave of arousal through her body. She nods, her voice a trembling whisper. "Okay." Slowly, she pushes herself onto her hands and knees, the chastity belt sliding across her skin reminding her of her own unmet needs with every movement. She crawls towards June, her eyes never leaving hers.

June's leg rises as Elara approaches, her foot coming to rest on the edge of the chair, giving Elara easy access to her most intimate space. The smell of her desire fills the air, a potent aphrodisiac that makes Elara's mouth water despite her fear. "Eat me out," she commands, her voice a low growl, "make me cum."

The room seems to spin around Elara as she obeys, her face pressed into the warm, wet heat of June's sex. She can't believe she's doing this, that she's letting her roommate control her in such an intimate way. But the collar around her neck is a constant reminder of her new role—June's property, her toy. She flicks her tongue out tentatively, tasting the sweetness of her roommate's arousal.

"That's it," June coos, her hand coming to rest lightly on the back of Elara's head, guiding her movements. "You're such a good little slut for me." She grinds against Elara's face, her hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm. "You've been dying to do this, haven't you?" she whispers, her voice a mix of mockery and desire. "To be used and degraded like this."

With a whimper, Elara licks again, the taste of June's arousal a strange mix of fear and exhilaration on her tongue. She tries to ignore the pulsing in her own core, the heat under the chastity belt a constant, maddening presence. "I-I'm not like this," she whispers, her voice muffled against June's thigh. "I'm straight. I only did this because you...you made me."

June throws her head back, laughing loudly as she pulls Elara's face closer, her thighs tightening around Elara's head. "Oh, the sweet sound of denial," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "But we both know that's not true, don't we?" She pushes Elara's face back into her sex, her hips moving in a frenetic rhythm. "You're a natural at this," she murmurs, her breath coming in short, sharp pants. "A beautiful, obedient whore."

Elara feels the tremble in June's thighs, the increased tension in her body signaling her approaching climax. She sticks out her tongue, eager to please, to make it end faster. The words cut deep, but she can't help the way her body responds, the way her own need sharpens with each passing moment. She tries to focus on the task at hand, her tongue moving with renewed vigor, desperate to taste June's release.

June's breath hitches as the pressure builds within her, and she tightens her grip on Elara's hair, pushing her face harder into her wetness. "Oh, fuck, Elara," she gasps, her body tightening like a coiled spring. And then, with a sudden, explosive release, she cums, her muscles spasming and releasing a flood of wetness that soaks Elara's face, some of it even shooting up her nose. She watches Elara's reaction with a sadistic glee, feeling the power surge through her as she controls the girl's every move.

Elara's eyes water as the musky scent of June's arousal fills her nostrils, and she gags as the cum floods her nose. She fights against June’s hold on her, her body writhing with the effort to escape the suffocating sensation. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent scream, but she can't pull away—June's grip is too strong, too possessive. The panic builds in her chest, a wild, desperate need for air that she can't satisfy.

June's eyes close, her head thrown back in ecstasy as Elara's tongue works its magic on her clit. She feels the girl's struggle, the way her body writhes and twists, but she's too lost in her own pleasure to care. Her legs squeeze tighter, forming a vice around Elara's head, her hands fisting in the raven hair. "Oh, what is the matter, slut?" she purrs, her voice thick with lust. "Can't breathe?" She grinds her hips against Elara's face, a second orgasm building like a crescendo. "Fuck, this is so good," she groans, her body shuddering as she reaches her peak again so quickly.

The lack of air sends Elara's panic spiraling. She wriggles and squirms against June's weight, her nose and mouth filled with the taste and scent of her roommate's orgasm. Her own need is forgotten in the desperate fight for oxygen, her body's instincts taking over. She pushes against June's thighs, trying to create some space, her chest heaving for breath. The collar around her neck feels like a noose, tightening with every second that passes.

The sound of Elara's muffled gasps and gagging only adds to June's sadistic amusement. She holds on for a beat longer before releasing her grip, watching as Elara slumps to the floor, coughing and sputtering. "Stay right there," she says with a cruel smile, "I'll clean you up." She stands, tossing the paddle over to the doorway, and walks over to the bed, her hips swaying with the satisfaction of a job well done.

Struggling for air, Elara's eyes water as she coughs and sputters, her nose burning from the intrusion of June's release. She blinks through the wetness coating her face, her thoughts scattered and racing. She's not sure if she's more disgusted or aroused, but she can't deny the wetness between her own legs.

~~~~

With a smug smile, June grabs Elara's pillow from the bed, pulling off the case with a flourish. She saunters over, her movements deliberate and predatory. She bends down, her breasts brushing against Elara's cheek as she dabs at the sticky mess on her face with the fabric. "Look at you," she says, her voice a blend of amusement and disdain. "So eager to serve."

Elara blinks through the haze of her watering eyes, the taste of June's orgasm all around her. She watches as June casually saunters over, the pillowcase in her hand. Her whimpers turn into a soft moan as the fabric wipes over her face, the smell of her roommate's desire mingling with the fabric's familiar scent. She takes the pillowcase from June's hand, the tremors in her fingers betraying her need to regain some semblance of control. She starts to stand, intending to clean herself off properly, but her legs are unsteady, and she nearly topples over.

"Oh, you poor thing," June says, her voice dripping with mock pity. She grabs Elara's arm, pulling her to her feet with surprising strength. "Let's get you back to your own little cage," she says, guiding her back to the bed with a cruel smile. She takes the pillowcase and uses it to clean Elara's face before tossing it onto the bed. "Now, back in your place," she murmurs, pushing Elara onto the bed.

Her legs give out, and she falls onto the bed with a thud, the mattress bouncing slightly from the impact. She looks up at June with eyes that are indeed a bit glazed over, her chest heaving from the exertion and the rush of adrenaline. "New pillowcase?" she manages to ask, her voice a weak rasp, as she tries to process the sudden shift of June being so gentle.

June chuckles, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Of course not, my pet," she says, her voice a sweet, taunting caress. She picks up the pillowcase and sniffs it, her smile growing wider. "You get to sleep with my scent around you," she says, her tone dripping with satisfaction and settling the pillowcase back on the pillow. She gently pulls the covers over Elara, tucking her in like a child. "And if you decide to be naughty and remove it," she warns, her voice dropping to a whisper, "I'll just have to find another use for it."

As June tucks her in, Elara feels the sticky residue of June's orgasm drying on her skin, a constant, humiliating reminder of her situation. She nods meekly, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes June." Her heart races with a mix of fear and anticipation of what might come next.

With a wicked smile, June gives Elara's cheek a light, almost affectionate pat. "You've got quite the penance coming your way in the morning, Mistress's little slut," she says, her voice dripping with the sweetness of victory. She turns off the lamp on the bedside table, plunging the room into darkness, and the door clicks shut behind her, leaving Elara alone with her thoughts.

As the door clicks shut, the room feels smaller, the weight of the collar heavier. She rolls onto her side, her knees drawn up to her chest, and lets the tears fall. The pain from the paddle marks on her ass throb in time with her racing heart. The reality of her situation crashes over her like a wave—June's cruelty was more intense than any of her solo sessions or fantasies. Yet, she can't deny the ache in her clit, the insistent pulse under her chastity belt that won't quit, even as she sobs. She whispers into the darkness, "What have I done?"

The sound of Elara's muffled sobs through the door only serves to add to June's post-orgasmic bliss. She leans against the frame of her own bedroom door, listening with a smug smile. "Music to my ears," she murmurs to herself, savoring the power she holds over her roommate. She pads into her room, her body still humming with satisfaction from her earlier release. "I wonder what other secrets she's hiding," she thinks, her mind already racing with ideas for tomorrow's play.

~~~~

Fin

#writing #nsft #bd/sm kink #denial #see CW

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itsankitsharmaz · 2 months ago

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Confronting the Ghosts of My Past: A Journey of Self-Reflection

Date: 29/08/2024

I never thought a simple trip to the grocery store could unravel so much buried emotion, but today, I found myself face to face with a ghost from my past.

My name is Ankit, a college student navigating the usual ups and downs of life. Today started like any other day, just another mundane task on my list: buying groceries. But as I walked down the familiar streets, I unexpectedly passed by someone I hadn’t seen in years—my childhood home tutor. The same tutor who had taught me everything from the alphabet to numbers, beginning in the 5th grade, when I first joined a new school in a small town.

He wasn’t just my teacher; he was my guide, my mentor, and at one point, my tormentor. He used to teach me in my veranda, and back then, I was a weak student, struggling with homework like so many others. But unlike others, my punishment for these failures was harsh—regular beatings with a bamboo stick. It wasn’t the first time I’d been punished, but this was different. The frustration built up inside me like a ticking time bomb, and one day, I couldn’t take it anymore. In the 8th standard, when he was beating me, I got so angry that I cursed him. In return, he beat me even harder. That day, I ran away, straight into my room, which was right next to the veranda, vowing never to return to his tutoring.

But his parting words still haunt me to this day. He cursed me, saying that I would never be successful, never achieve anything significant in life. His words were like a dark cloud that loomed over me, even after I stopped taking tutoring from him. I continued to struggle academically, barely scraping by, and his curse seemed to become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Years have passed, and I’d convinced myself that I had moved on. But today, as I saw him walking towards me on the road, all those memories came rushing back. I couldn’t even bring myself to make eye contact with him. It felt as though I was still that same 8th-grade boy, struggling with the basics, stuck in the same place, and haunted by his words.

His curse echoed in my mind, louder and clearer than ever before, especially now that I’m facing academic setbacks—a twice-failed subject, a backlog that I just can’t seem to overcome. It’s like his words are taunting me, reminding me of my failures, and I can’t seem to escape them.

As I sit here, unable to sleep, my mind is racing with noise—his voice, his words, the shame of my past, and the fear of my future. I’ve tried to drown it out with music, but it’s no use. The ghosts of my past are relentless, and tonight, they’re haunting me more than ever.

But maybe, just maybe, confronting these ghosts is the first step toward exorcising them. After all, acknowledging the pain is the first step toward healing. NOTE: I use chatGPT to convert my thought into journal like blog because I am not good with words. Thank You For Reading!

#self-reflection #college struggles #past trauma #overcoming obstacles #life story #emotional journey

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project1939 · 10 months ago

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Overview of Magazines from Project 1952:

Favorite Magazines:

1. Life is a big, classy weekly news and culture magazine with lots of amazing pictures and a relatively centrist ideology. There’s no obvious slant.

2. Motion Picture and Television Magazine might be my favorite movie mag, just cause it’s got tons of great pictures, interviews, and movie ratings. I also got a complete 1952 set for really cheap on ebay, so I gotta love that.

3. Good Housekeeping is THICK. It’s got tons of information on housekeeping, cooking, fashion, decorating, childcare, family dynamics, culture, health, and some short fiction as well. The recipe section in the issue I got was priceless.

Favorite articles:

“Our Teenagers: How Good are Their Morals?” by Dr. Judson T. and Mary G. Landis., from the March 1st issue of Collier's. It tried to pour cold water over the “juvenile delinquency” hysteria so much of the country was hung up on. I loved that it fact checked the fears and just said- “Calm the F down, everyone!”

“Lucy Leaves Em Limp,” by Don Allen in the April issue of Motion Picture and Television Magazine. It was a surprisingly in-depth interview with Ball about how I Love Lucy came to be, how it was filmed, and why it was such a success.

Worst articles:

“College Girls: If They Could Only Cook,” in Quick magazine from September 8th. It gripes about how college ruins women from becoming good housewives. “They average less than two children. Statistically, a high proportion seem likely to have broken marriages and nervous breakdowns.” !!!!

“Southern Crisis: The Segregation Decision,” by Virginius Dabney, in the Saturday Evening Post on November 8th. While awaiting the Brown v. Board of Education decision, this author tells everyone to put the breaks on when it comes to de-segregating the South. All the old crap like, “We’re moving slowly but still moving!” “Look at a nice school we built for black students! See, separate but equal works!” “We’re just not ready to desegregate yet, give us time!” and the worst, “If you move too fast, there will be violence, and it’ll be all your fault!”

Full Magazine List:

Motion Picture and Television Magazine, January 1952.

Motion Picture and Television Magazine, February 1952.

Cosmopolitan, February 1952.

Motion Picture and Television Magazine, March 1952.

McCall's, March 1952.

Collier's, March 15th, 1952.

Life, March 24th, 1952.

Motion Picture and Television Magazine, April 1952.

Life, April 14th, 1952.

Motion Picture and Television Magazine, May 1952.

Movie Teen, May 1952.

Farm Journal, May 1952.

Life, June 9th, 1952.

Motion Picture and Television Magazine, June 1952.

Motion Picture and Television Magazine, July 1952.

Life, July 21st, 1952.

Life, July 28th, 1952.

Motion Picture and Television Magazine, August 1952.

Life, August 4th, 1952.

Photoplay, August 1952.

Motion Picture and Television Magazine, September 1952.

Quick, September 8th, 1952.

Life, September 15th, 1952.

Good Housekeeping, September 1952.

Motion Picture and Television Magazine, October 1952.

The Radio-TV Mirror, October 1952.

The Atlantic, October 1952.

Quick, November 3rd, 1952.

The Saturday Evening Post, November 8th, 1952.

Motion Picture and Television Magazine, November 1952.

Screen Stories, November 1952.

Life, November 17th, 1952.

The Saturday Evening Post, December 6th, 1952.

Motion Picture and Television Magazine, December 1952.

Look, December 30th, 1952.

#project1952 #1952 magazines #project1952 wrap up

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former-leftist-jew · 8 months ago

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Ronald W. Dworkin explored this exact same phenomena on this article. It's a great article worth reading, but I wanted to highlight this part:

Detached from Reality

On May 14, 2022, Payton Gendron, an 18-year-old white man, traveled 200 miles to a supermarket in a black neighborhood, where he shot and killed ten people, yelling racial slurs the whole time.

Other lone wolf killers have also spent an inordinate amount of time online. They gain insight into the world not by learning about life and people first-hand, but through an online study of images and symbols—through language. In the U.S., over half of the deadliest mass shootings in the last 100 years have occurred since 2014, when social media took off. Gendron sprinkled his pre-murder manifesto with abstract words such as “fascism,” “capitalism,” “nihilism,” “hedonism,” and “individualism,” in an effort to explain his thinking. As a teenager, he said he was committed to “communism,” then to “authoritarianism,” and later to “populism.” Connor Sturgeon, another lone wolf killer (and knowledge worker) who shot and killed five people in 2023, filled his manifesto with vague and ill-defined words from popular psychology, including “self-esteem,” “negative self-image,” and “self-improvement.”

Radicalized knowledge workers reveal a similar trend, spending a large amount of time, both at work and at home, on social media. There are also the years spent in school training for knowledge work, where life is also strangely abstract.

Palestine is Ruining the Left

I've taken this from Reddit because I've found it an interesting read, I did not write this myself, a user named u/ u/TooLittleNuance did. Feel free to reply and engage in converation.

I'm an Israeli-American leftist who has been active in American and Israeli politics for a number of years now. I have always advocated for human rights, equity, and self-determination for Palestinians who are oppressed(to different extents) under Israel, a nation that commits itself to Jewish domination of institutions. I always voted and campaigned for progressive Democrats and I assisted with the Israeli Meretz party from abroad. This is why I think the current Palestinian-sympathetic movement is ruining the left:

Abandonment of Pragmatism - Just like the 2020 George Floyd protests("Defund the Police"), the Western left has completely embraced a suicidal strategy of idealistic radicalism. Many of those on the left insist the solution to the conflict is a one-state solution consisting of Palestine "from the River to the Sea". Unfortunately, they've appropriated the Palestinian mythology in their ambitions to magically destroy Israel and the ideology of Zionism by BDS somehow or supporting Palestinian "armed struggle". It doesn't take a lot of thought to see how both of those methods are incredibly ineffective and immoral to advocate for and implement. So, instead of a pragmatic approach, like empowering the Israeli left through donations and advocacy, supporting a reasonable solution(two-state or one-state under Israel), or calling for the ultimate humanitarian end to the war of a unilateral Hamas surrender, the Western left insists on a dream scenario that will never happen. This is the most egregious behavior of the left and it's their most common mistake(i.e. Vietnam). This is due to the fact that Palestinians, especially in Gaza, are suffering under disproportionate Israeli force with no Western movement to realistically end it. In fact, these Western leftists, due to these tactics, are assisting in empowering and legitimizing the far-right of Israel. They are the perfect strawman to turn people off to the left in Israel, which, in turn, results in a lengthened Palestinian suffering.

Maximalism - There's a tendency on the left to outcompete each other in radicalism. It's not catchy or sexy to say "The war tactics that Israel uses are disproportionate and don't consider enough of the humanitarian cost", it has to be "genocide" or "ethnic cleansing" in order to provoke an emotional reaction from uneducated Westerners. It's not "the security policy of Hafradah has resulted in reduced human rights of Palestinians compared to Israelis", it has to be "Apartheid"(with the only legal precedent being South Africa). These maximalist statements immeasurably hurt the movement for true progress on Palestinian human rights. It results in a boy-who-cried-wolf situation: If Israel decides to transfer the entire Gazan population to the Sinai, what is that called? A "genocide"? Due to the present labeling of the war, nobody will believe it. What if Israel permanently transfers or kills 100,000 Palestinian civilians? 200,000? 1 million? What will that be called? How can it get worse than "genocide"? This Maximalist rhetoric is not only inaccurate, but it's incredibly damaging to describe the proportionate extent of Palestinian suffering, which is vital to any movement that faithfully advocates for an upliftment of Palestinian life and identity.

Normalization of Bigotry - Explicit or latent Jew-Hatred is being increasingly embraced by radical sections of the Western left. Tropes such as "Zionist"(a euphemism for "Jew" for many) control of governments or blood libel. Wishing "Death to Zionists" or equating them with Nazis is, in most cases, latent Jew-Hatred. Regardless of your thoughts on the definition of Zionism(there is no definition, it is a meaningless term), it's clear that many believe that "Zionists" are just uppity Jews. Of course, this is genuinely believed by a small portion of the left. However, a substantial part of Western leftists has repeatedly failed to condemn this Jew-Hatred and to stop mirroring the language of these latent or explicit Jew-Haters. This is 1000x worse in the case of Israelis. For Western leftists, it's normal to call Israelis "colonizers", "demons", "rapists", and "child-murderers" on their social media without repercussion or introspective irony. As somebody belonging to the Israeli nationality, I have been desensitized to the insane amount of bigotry from those that I formerly respected. However, many Israelis or Jews aren't as depersonalized as I am, and they definitely take the bigotry to heart. What do you think results from that? Usually, a vote for Likud(Netanyahu's Party) or a donation to AIPAC. Thus, propagating a cycle of bigotry and continuing the suffering of Palestinians.

Propaganda - This war has sparked the largest disinformation campaigns in human history. Multiple state entities (Israel, U.S., Russia, Iran, Qatar) and numerous private entities are pumping out loads of propaganda in order to manipulate uneducated Westerners into supporting their interests. Since October 7th, known Russian disinformation propagator, Jackson Hinkle, has skyrocketed in followers due to his ability to mislead Western leftists on the war. I have seen an unfathomable amount of reposts from Al Jazeera and MiddleEastEye, known Qatari state propaganda and major propagates of misinformation. I have always appreciated the value of institutional skepticism that embodied many of the historical and academic leftist leaders. However, right now, those values are completely thrown out in favor of Russia or Iran's geopolitical advocacy of "everything the West does is bad". The previous three points of behavior are certainly emboldened by the paid disinformation and bots that propagate anti-Western sentiment to destabilize Western democracy. Meanwhile, the basic interests of Palestinian civilians are left unregarded while these state operatives kill their only lifeline.

Reactionary Resurgence - One of the main factors that attracted me to the left was its rejection of reactionary ideology(the establishment of traditional institutions from the past). For Israelis and Palestinians, reactionary rhetoric is normalized and encouraged in many cases. However, this reactionary ideology that has plagued those who share my nationality has spread to Western leftists in their advocacy for Palestine. Western leftists constantly appropriate the far-right and reactionary talking points that many radicalized Palestinians spout. An example would be the insistence on the exclusive indigeneity of Palestine from the River to the Sea, which abandons the progressive values of anti-nationalism and intersectionality. Another example would be the appropriation of Palestinian Martyrdom, in which many of them embraced the idea that human life can be inherently reduced to a political or national cause by their manner of death. This is a clear rejection of the values of individualism, secularism, and anti-nationalism.

Historical Negligence - Those who are even a little bit informed on the Israel-Palestinian Conflict understand that the conflict is too complex to be treated as a soccer match of Israelis vs. Palestinians. Many Israeli and Palestinian leaders set roadblocks to an equitable peace, while many others progressed the conflict to a more positive state. Even more than the historical complexity of this conflict, evaluating the moral complexity requires a graduate degree in a relevant field with hundreds of hours of research. I typically advise not to trust anybody's commentary of the conflict with any less credibility than the previous sentence. However, the Western left has instead decided to follow the historical and moral analysis of demagogues. There's constantly factually wrong or misleading historical information on many of these Palestinian-sympathetic accounts. An example is the map of a "disappearing Palestine" that millions have reposted, a blatantly misleading map meant to depict "Zionist colonization", meanwhile, neglecting the historical borders of the conflict. There are many other forms of historical negligence that they commonly employ that are extremely damaging for understanding the conflict.

In conclusion, Western leftists are keeping up with the Western traditions of white saviorism and interfering with this particular trendy foreign conflict. I could have written a few more grievances that I have of the Western left(including the embracement of far-right Islamist groups) but I wanted to keep the post relatively short. In several months, Western leftists will forget about the Gazans suffering under the disproportional force of the IDF. Nobody will self-criticize the ideas or tactics that they engaged in, meanwhile, the Israeli left-wing and reliable non-Hamas Palestinian advocacy organizations are left in the dust by an ineffective white-savior-esqe Western movement. Not only that but due to all of these factors making the left look like lunatics, Biden and the Democrats are being affected in the polling, which may result in Trump being elected, a terrible outcome for Palestinians.

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #leftist hypocrisy

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dzpenumbra · 1 year ago

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7/27/23

Today has been a very... BIG day. Very full.

I woke up after 6 hours of sleep. I was going to roll over and go back to sleep, but I decided to journal my dream instead. It was a dream about me living in an apartment with a roommate, I haven't had roommates since... 2008? I was living there with my cat, we had the upstairs bedroom (like my current apartment, an upstairs loft with a half-wall). The big difference was, in order to get up there, you had to use a ladder.

My roommate had some friends over and invited me to smoke weed with them. He reassured me knowingly that it was a very CBD heavy blend, so I wouldn't have to worry about freakouts as much. I found that very considerate. I smoked, and within the dream I experienced a unique simulation of being high - I'm struggling to even put it into words. The floaty fuzzy feeling. The alterations to brightness and I keep wanting to say that like... bubble effect to vision? But I don't really know how to say that in a more articulate way. Anyway, I was definitively high, but still functional. But... even just acknowledging that I was high and around people made my caution bells go off. And I felt compelled to retreat to my bedroom and take a shower. In fact... that was really my plan since before I even smoked. I came up with this whole exit plan in case I got overwhelmed - just climb the ladder and go shower and chill in my room. Very true to life. So, despite not actually freaking out, I reacted preemptively... I announced I was going to go shower and started to climb the ladder, and when I got to the top, I had to climb off the ladder and over the wall, and it was very precarious and very high up and I felt really unsafe doing it. And that's where I woke up.

The whole dream made me reflect a bunch. First on my cat, which had me sobbing in bed for a bit. As much as grief hurts, it was really nice to think of her again, she really meant so much to me. Second, on how the fuck my cat was supposed to get around the apartment with that ladder. Then, I started tracking this behavior back. When did this whole "I have to be really careful if I'm smoking weed around other people" thing start? Because it feels super familiar. It feels... exactly like my "need" (compulsion/fear) to prepare and script interactions just... for everyday function now.

The furthest back I traced it was my first year of college. Which was a complete shit show. I smoked weed every fucking day. Every day. I smoked so often that I had an inside joke with an exchange student, because they would greet me, "Hi, _____" and I would just say "yes" or "no" depending on whether I was high or not, and it was almost always yes. To the point where she gave me the nickname "High _____" to solidify the joke, and it spread to other people too. My friendships were built on smoking as the foundation. My high school friends who were the reason I went to that college in the first place? They were half a campus away in a different dorm and barely smoked at all, so we just... grew apart immediately. Then one day, my friend R and I went and smoked a shit ton of resin and I went directly to an English class. I had the mother of all freakouts (at the time, I've actually had bigger ones since). It was like a bad trip, honestly. I've described it on here before. But the basic themes were... loss of bodily functions (like being afraid of pissing myself or farting without knowing) and public humiliation (the entire class pointing and laughing at me).

After that freakout, I stopped going to that class. And then stopped going to other classes for similar reasons. Eventually was asked not to come back to college with a 0.5 GPA. Ironic that I literally spend every waking moment studying now, and I'm genuinely entertaining the idea of becoming a teacher.

The thing that sparked my memory though? The nail in the coffin? It was a different time, a different freakout. One that was much more subtle. I don't remember if this was a mushroom trip or a weed high... but I was in the courtyard of the college, a big brick circular courtyard between the 3 main dorms. I was with a group of friends, but most of them I didn't know. I think I was just sorta... floating around following an acquaintance, someone I knew, but really didn't know that well. And I got that same thing, that imaginative scene where everyone in the group was laughing at me. And with my whole insecurity with body odor and body function and stuff back then - and I was super insecure about that until like... my early 30's, like I used to not even use public bathrooms, thank god that's finally over - I again made the connection that it must've been because I lost a bodily function or something. I mean, what else would it be, right? My memory is really hazy of this, but I do remember clearly just sorta... detaching from the social group for a bit... and just being stuck in that looping nightmare in my head... then following up with the acquaintance in her dorm suite later that night, and she assured me that she didn't know what the fuck I was talking about.

Two episodes, the same thing, both times I went to sources to verify whether my anxiety attack was a real thing... both times I was met with weird looks and treated extremely dismissively. The English teacher told me I needed to "lay off the mind-altering drugs" and asked me to leave. The acquaintance just sorta looked at me like I was nuts and stopped hanging out with me. So... with no one to help me make any sense of this situation, and it being... late 2004? Panic attacks, anxiety disorders, shit like that? It wasn't stuff that people commonly talked about. People were still asking each other for their AIM usernames. I was still using a flip-phone. I was afraid I was losing my mind, and afraid I was going to be involuntarily institutionalized for it. Not losing my mind because of the drugs, of course. I didn't think they caused permanent damage to my mind. I may have been an anxious wreck, but I've never been that superstitious. But I was afraid that I was kinda... maturing into a pre-existing psychological disorder. AKA... going crazy. And, to be fair, in a way... I did. But a big part of me wonders... how avoidable really was that? Did weed just accelerate it due to enhancing my emotions and sensory experiences, so those anxieties and panics and fears were that much more intense? So much that they left more vivid scars, so it didn't take catastrophes like me kayaking in a flooded river to face a traumatic event... it just took me going to class, missing a teacher's joke and just hearing the laughing, and assuming they were laughing at me, connecting the dots in nightmarish worst-case-scenario ways. And that trauma, that was so real to me, being too much to process with no one to help. And activating years of suppressed PTSD. Like the straw that broke the camel's back kinda thing.

I do believe that, honestly. That weed's contribution in negatively impacting my mental health was simply to amplify something that was very clearly already happening at a more subtle and still somewhat functional level. And that something, that anxiety disorder, existed since before I even tried weed.

So... what I'm kinda getting at? This whole... "I need to come up with an escape plan so I can do this (drink, drop ecstasy, smoke weed, drive while tired, anything that reduces my faculties and makes me vulnerable)" thing originated from those experiences. Almost 19 years ago. When I have had trusted friends around, it has eased. This self-protective planning mechanism. The anti-impulse. When I took benzodiazepines it was nearly non-existent (along with many other things, like... most of my emotions). This was really the genesis of my struggle to just go out and do shit. It was the birth of my agoraphobia, and the maturation of my anxiety disorder.

When I was in middle school, we had a really small school. I was one of two people in the first graduating 8th grade class. I was one of their first students ever. And in the first bit of school, I won an award for going around and meeting everyone and being able to remember all of their names. And I mean every student, and there were like... 50 of them? And I was 11. I was shy, I was a bit on the quiet side... I preferred one-on-one interactions... but I knew how to socialize. I've always known how to socialize. I used to work a fucking register at a gas station, that job is entirely socializing. So, I really don't think I'm "bad" at socializing, or I'm going to "screw up", like my self-protective fears keep fucking neurotically drilling into my brain with these weird paranoid fantasies that I have to meticulously prepare for.

Those fantasies, those scenarios, those judgments, they all live in my head. And I'm sure that moment in my freshman year of college was not their origin, but it was most definitely when they reached maturity and started to grow deep, deep roots into my life. Instead of me just being tactical about when I needed to use the bathroom... it was me being tactical about... being in social situations at all. It spread from when I was high or tripping to... being drunk... then being on anything... then being tired. (Because I need to be alert and present in order to safely escape a bad or dangerous situation.)

So yeah, that dream was very simple, but very important. It was the primary reason why I started smoking weed again after 15 years, to just face that fucking demon once and for all. It was the reason I wanted to incorporate smoking weed into therapy. And I genuinely, wholeheartedly believe... that a major breakthrough with my social anxiety, my PTSD, this whole compulsively planning for disaster shit? I genuinely think that breakthrough, for my specific traumatic narrative and associations, would come from using weed in therapy. Or, at very least, smoking with a trusted loved one who knew all of these stories, knows what my panic looks like, and is able to be my escape rope. To guarantee that the person I am with is not a threat, but is rather an ally, and help me talk through what I'm going through and face it with me. 4 fucking years I've been trying to get one of 3 different therapists to do this with me. At this point, I think I'm destined to just... wait until I find a romantic partner.

Wow, I really went off there. Yeah. 6 hours of sleep, woke up to that. Did not go back to bed. Went downstairs and played some Mini Metroways very briefly. Actually... I think I did yoga first? I don't remember. I was very eager to try some yoga techniques to unlock my hips that I was breezing over last night. I tried them and realized... I've been struggling in seated positions because... I've been sitting all wrong. I'm sitting on the back of my sitz bones, and my knees have been raised. It's going to take work to really get there, but I remembered a few years ago when I was just first getting into yoga and I was really excited to try half-lotus. And I was actually somewhat good at it, I was much more flexible back then. It's pretty nuts how much of a toll grief and being sedentary for even just 2 years can take on your body. I remembered that when I was trying to get into half-lotus, and I practiced daily, I got to this point where I was just... sitting differently. I felt more perched on top of my legs, rather than what I considered "seated". It physically felt different. And I actually... got to that place again today. I warmed up a bunch, loosened my back and hips up and tried to do seated positions for a good half hour. And I felt a big release that felt almost like a snap in the side of my left hip, and suddenly... I could shift pretty close to that position. It was really cool.

So... again... the double-edged sword of practicing without a teacher... a teacher would have picked up that I was sitting wrong immediately. It took me almost 7 months. God knows how many other poses are like this. So... maybe more reason to consider taking yoga classes. (Oh god, don't think about money... ugh...)

After yoga, cereal, tea and Mini Metroways. That was it. Then... I decided to start work on the griptape. I put on a video that was an artist I really respect that was doing commentary on the Senate hearings about AI art and artists rights and shit. It was... a lot. But not in a doom way. Not for me.

See... I was sitting on the floor hand-painting a mandala on a skateboard. If it's one thing an AI can't do? It's hand-paint. Motherfuckers aint got no hands. See... that hasn't been the reason why I've been gravitating back to the roots of artistic expression. Polishing stones, decorating beads, making precious jewelry, carving staves, decorating bones. Everything hand-made, as much as possible. I prefer it. I prefer to put in the extra effort, to do it slower, to have more time put into the tedious details. That means there's more of me in the piece. Sure, I could just fucking... buy blue dyed wooden beads that are already sealed and finished and string them on a string that has already been manufactured in a factory with the findings already on it and then... it's done. Speedy! But... my only contribution was choosing the parts, and assembling the parts.

Now please do not get me wrong. This is not bad. I love Lego kits as much as anyone else. I was actually really into model building - like model planes and tanks and Warhammer - I absolutely understand and appreciate and value that process. But creatively, as an artist, it's not what I fucking do. What I do is make things by hand. At least currently and in these avenues of artwork.

Given that, I didn't really feel... threatened by AI? Because AI is designed specifically to spit out something quick and thrown together. And that's great, and if in 5 years people are still interested in the novelty of this the same way they love those filters that make it look like they're wearing dog-ears or have sparkles all over their face or something... more power to them!

What I did feel a tremendous compulsion to do... was to get out there and get involved in the art community and preach the gospel of making things by hand. Train those skills, encourage people not to take short-cuts if they want to do it the soulful way. Do not be ashamed of tracing or using AI art, those are simply different things. And also, do not be ashamed of using your hands when there are power-tools readily available, they are different things as well. But with all of this fear of theft and stuff... I mean, that hugely impacts digital artists. And... I'm not a digital artist. I do some digital stuff, but like... okay... an AI could absolutely take my profile picture colored pencil owl illustration and recycle it and someone could sell that shit. Yep. In fact, someone could probably go find it somewhere on the internet and just copy it and sell it as their own. I have a lot more protection if that's the case, but like... Okay. The core of my work... is the soul. The stories behind the piece. What stories/memories/associations the piece might be based on, and its own story as it was being made. What it means to me. Where I was when I made that piece. What I was thinking while I made it. My art... is a relic. It's an artifact. It's far more than just a display of technical skill... or a something pretty... or something useful... It's all of those things, and it has a soul. I have a sorta... animist approach to art, to life really... Every piece has a soul, every item in my home has a story, every piece of clothing, every paper bag. And, to me, those stories are incredibly meaningful. They are precious. They're the story of my life, they are set pieces in my story.

This is what makes it so fucking hard for me to even imagine putting my art in a gallery, because... what do I say?! I could write a fucking book for each and every individual piece of all the soul that went into that piece, the stories attached, the emotions and passion that were put into that. But galleries are not libraries... XD Maybe I'm overthinking, maybe... when I find a gallery owner who actually asks the stories... and I sit down and have a pot of tea with them and tell them everything... they'll reveal to me that... the real ones will seek out the story. The real ones will see a set of hand-polished stones just sitting there on a display with no explanation and both form their own conjectures... but perhaps also seek out what that pieces identity truly is. Why I chose to put those there. Why they were special enough to be on display like museum artifacts. Because, in my life? That's what they are. And I'd love to share the stories.

So yeah, good news. The one thing AI doesn't have? It can imitate my "styles" all fucking day. It can plagiarize and mutate my pieces all day long, and mass produce cheap knockoffs and sell them for pennies. Yep. Like cheap-o postcards of the Mona Lisa for pensioners to send to their grandkids and have them throw it in the trash a week later. Yes, AI can absolutely do that. In the blink of an eye, in fact. But what it can't do - by fucking definition, because of its design for speed, efficiency and mass production... - is make something with a soul. It can't make something with a story. So... I honestly don't really feel threatened by it. That does not mean it's not a problem, especially for artists.

So... I kinda got this fire under my ass to get out in the community and start training people... this. The value of working with your hands. How yes, you can absolutely use power tools, and you'll get a quicker and often more accurate result. But maybe that's not the point. Maybe the point of art is not perfection. Maybe the point of life is not gogogo faster faster more more more. To produce as much stuff for as many people at as perfect precision as possible, as quickly as possible. Of course a machine is going to win that race, every time. What I want to teach is... that race is optional. And there is profound value in... being human. In using your hands. In writing by hand. In polishing by hand. You put more of yourself into your work. Literally. You are directly in contact with it, it has your DNA saturated into it.

But most importantly, at least with where I am right now with the piece I worked on all fucking day... when you work on something by hand there is a higher margin for "error". "Human error". Because, remember... "to err is human", right? So... all the little imperfections? All the little fuck-ups? Mistakes? "Whoops, slipped there..." Those are the piece's humanity. That's the direction I've been starting to go. And I really need it. Obsessing over perfection and speed and detail is so fucking... exhausting and stressful. And I kinda just want a quieter, slower life where it's welcome to make mistakes, to be honest... it's much more peaceful and enriching.

So yeah, I painted and listened to that. I went to take a nap and ended up not napping. I revised my Art To-Do list... elaborated on what I'm going to do when I get to the end of this journal project, reorganized the priority list. Then I took a shower and went for a walk in the woods.

It was super buggy after the flooding. I got eaten alive by mosquitos, it was honestly very difficult because I was trying very hard not to kill them while being swarmed. I understand now why Jainists carry around brushes for swatting away bugs without hurting them. But it was very beautiful out, the sun was pretty when it was setting, I saw lots of rabbits which were so cute and mind-blowingly unafraid of people. I went to give one my apple core, I got within like 8 feet of it but it wasn't down with me crouching down to put the apple core on the ground. It got scared and took off.

I saw lots of young women out, which made me feel... old. Lots of college-aged people around. I've been detached from society so long, I often forget how old I am now... but my hips and back and my quickly fading love handles are definitely a reminder. I kinda just felt... lonely and out of place. Like it would be super hard to find a partner around my age. Like I didn't belong here, and that I even might be intimidating. I mean good lord, with how panicked I get in the city about my safety, I have no fucking clue how women do it. I am constantly in awe of your courage just in daily life, especially juxtaposed with my PTSD safety over-exaggeration. Oh, what I was leading towards... yeah, I was feeling very like... out of place and like I don't belong and "maybe I would fit in better in Canada or Northern California or something..." And then a homeless guy started screaming from a plastic chair by the river nearby. And I immediately started to feel much more normal, much less threatening. XD

Just a quick tangent, I went through like 5 straight minutes of analysis as I was walking... the kind of fascination where you completely forget you have music in your earbuds because of how immersed in the thoughts you are. And I was just exploring... how alien that guy's behavior was. How I am like... the polar opposite of him. Where he does not give half a shit about how other people perceive him, to the point where I was unsure if he was even aware of other peoples' existence, let alone the effect he was having on them. But me? I am constantly concerned with how I am affecting people around me. Even in isolation! Even when I was living in a house that was 50 yards from the nearest house and my neighbors were rarely around, I would try to keep my volume at a moderate level and be mindful and courteous. Yeah, it was just completely alien to me, and I think that's the hardest part about being around people like that. No offense at all to them. I just... and I really do try, trust me... I desperately struggle to relate to them. I have no idea how a person ends up like that, or if they were always like that? And it makes me curious, and it makes me want to understand, so I can deepen my compassion. But... when people have such flagrant disregard for others... to the point where they don't seem to even really be aware of others very obviously around them... I get concerned about personal safety. And though I do feel a bit hasty and... uneducated(?) about that judgment... it does appear to be a situation that I should be cautious of. Typically, when people are showing a blatant disregard for how they are affecting others, to the point of wildly screaming in public... I mean... they are clearly displaying that they don't really care about how their behavior impacts others. So... yeah.

Though I was tossing the idea around while cooking dinner of going around and interviewing homeless people and asking them really personal questions... like "what is your favorite childhood memory", "why do you do drugs", "do you have any goals you are working towards". Shit like that. I'd love to piece together mini videos of people who are normally completely overlooked and give them a place to shine, to show that these are people too. To capture and share the humanity in people who are kinda treated a bit more like wildlife than humans. But honestly, there are some snags. One - I wouldn't really feel safe doing this alone. Not in the current anxiety state I've been in. Two - I'd feel bad about... making money from a piece like that... kinda feels like exploitation a little... and... Okay, I'm gonna say it. I might even feel worse about paying royalties to a drug addict, knowing it wouldn't be enough to turn their life around. That's a complicated one to unpack. But it's a cool idea.

So yeah, to wrap up chapter 10 of this epic novel... I spent a huge amount of time working on the grip tape. Four of the nine rings are completely done, short of a final pass. The theme has been set for the fifth, I just need to do the iterations. And every layer has a sorta... outline? Kinda? Like an inner line tracing the outline, forming a margin, kinda. I did those for every single pedal and leaf. So... of the 72 leaves... I have 33 done. And then a final pass and the mandala is done.

Again, I'm still a bit scared to skate it before I finish and photograph the detail work... but I've been taking progress pictures after ever session and I'm really glad I chose to do that. This is much less stressful than streaming, and I still have a chronical of its progression.

That was pretty much my day. I watched some more Adam Savage and I'm really glad I did. He's a very enlightened person, and likely doesn't fully realize half of it. It's wonderful. He was talking about hand-painting in the video I was watching, he was making replica armor, and was like... literally IN a flow state, talking about the flow state, while I was cleaning and polishing beads also in a flow state. XD And I was just like... "yeah, dude, why the fuck do you think I do this every day! I basically live here as much as I can!"

Yeah, I guess the only last thing I wanted to touch back on was the education bit. It was both teaching people the importance of human error and personality in art, encouraging hand-crafting and manual forms of expression... but also... entertaining the idea of just being a creative coach in general. Any discipline. Art, music, engineering, writing, dance, even sports, anything really. To help people reach their creative/making potential, and help creators and makers reconnect with their true selves. If that takes the form of a blog, or personal coaching, or videos, it ultimately doesn't matter. But I do feel a calling towards that. I have for a very long time. I guess I just need to get over my personal hangups about... qualifications... but that's way too big of a thing to unpack here tonight.

Okay, well past bed time. Huge day. Time for rest.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of thoughts #stream of consciousness

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